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: 9 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

‘They heard the same rumor we did.’ Wanabe moved closer to the opening.

Toshira shook his head. ‘Whoever they are. they were given wrong information.’

Mannimoto brushed off concrete dust. ‘Only one man here is the Prince's height.’

Everyone turned to Naiku, who looked surprised, then showed his wide smile.

‘More likely it's me,’ Gudmansen snorted.

Toshira stood up. ‘Since we can't tell which of you is the real Teddy Kurita, I guess you'll both have to stay here.’ He staved off protests with a raised hand. ‘We need you to set up things anyway. We'll just go waste some time playing with the 'Mechs until you're ready.’

While Naiku and Gudmansen started preparations. Toshira. Wanabe. and Mannimoto found one of the giant machines by the sounds and moving lights.

Mannimoto moved a block in front of the Marauderand sprayed a man-sized image on the concrete wall near a doorway. He waved a flashlight down the street, hoping to attract the Mech's attention. Then he ran to the corner and sprayed another wall.

At the same time, Toshira and Wanabe climbed stairs to the top floor of a building across the street. A twinkle near the window caught Wanabe's eye. She moved to the opening and kneeled. ‘Sergeant, shell casings. Others fought from here.’

‘Let's hope our attack plan meets with more success.’ He prepared his grenade.

They heard crunching as the Mech strode down the street. Toshira sprayed the window area with isotherm to wipe out any heat trace.

The Marauderrumbled forward, passing under the window where Toshira and Wanabe hid. The 'Mech closed on the heat-painted doorway, rotated its autocannon, and fired a burst into the building.

Wanabe, Toshira knew, had never actually seen a weapon of that size fire, and the power startled her into a crouch. Throwing a paint grenade was the furthest thing from her mind ‘Lords of the House!’

Too busy to reply. Toshira used the autocannon burst as chance to lob his grenades.

As the concrete wall crumbled from the 'Mech's onslaught, the first canister of paint hit. A blue blotch, deep and oily-looking in the low light, blossomed just behind the Marauder's canopy. Paint dripped down the sides and headed to heat sink openings.

The Mech stopped firing. It hesitated, scanning.

Two more small packages flew out the upper window and spread paint across its surface.

The Marauder fired again. A blue stream sizzled down the street and crushed the corner where Mannimoto had used the thermo-chem the second time. A red laser bolt from its other arm passed through the window above Toshira and Wanabe. Chunks of ceiling fell free and dust filled the room. A thumb-sized piece of concrete ricocheted off Toshira's helmet.

‘Maybe this thing isn't so bad after all.’

They sidestepped debris and ran to the door. ‘Ready? Now!’ Toshira called out. They pivoted, threw another grenade blindly through the window, then started down a hallway toward the back of the building.

The 'Mech outside spotted the third volley of paint. It moved its left arm slightly and the PPC spewed a neon-blue stream through the window.

The ceiling collapsed. covering the room with rocky debris. Dust poured out the window, spectral smoke in the moonlight.

Then came silence. The Marauder stood still in the street and waited.

Mannimoto scrambled up a rubble pile to the roof of another warehouse. Toshira and Wanabe quietly picked their way through wreckage down a back stair to the street. A tew minutes passed, and the Kurita mice taunted the cat again.

With paint grenades, Toshira. Wanabe, and Mannimoto harassed the 'Mechs throughout the night. Whenever the Maraudersclustered, the Kuritans set off two or more diversions at once: small fires in the streets using broken cigarettes for timing fuses, thermo-chem graffiti, burning rags dragged on long ropes. Anything to make the Mech move.

Gudmansen released the barrel she held in the claws of the industrial exoskeleton. The formed plastic rumbled down the ramp, picking up both speed and pitch. There was a doinkas it impacted another barrel at the bottom of the mechanic's pit.

She repeated the exercise several times, then clumped over to a pallet of plywood sheets and hauled them to the pit.

Toshira and Wanabe, exhausted and paint-spattered, ducked through the opening. ‘Where's Aragi?’ Wanabe leaned carefully over the edge of the pit and peered down.

‘Waiting at the site. Should be ready. Took the last load of sprayers out a long time ago.’ The metal ramp scraped across the floor as Gudmansen tugged it into a corner.

Toshira flexed his jaws, ears aching from the shrieking sound. ‘Ann! Maybe we could just make them listen to that until they surrendered.’

‘Who's surrendering now?’ Mannimoto appeared in the doorway.

‘Ooop!’ Wanabe. startled, spun around and slipped in an oily mess under the pit edge. She teetered briefly, then regained her balance. ‘Don't do that!’ She glared at Mannimoto. who smiled.

Toshira and Gudmansen exchanged surprised glances. The Sergeant looked at Mannimoto suspiciously. ‘Why are you in such a good mood?’

‘I'm having...’ Mannimoto scrunched up his face thoughtfully. ‘I'm having fun.’

Toshira nodded ‘Better than being shot in the desert?’

‘So far.’ Mannimoto moved to the wash facility. ‘What's this doing?’ He pointed to a hose pouring water into a rubble heap.

The exoskeleton legs made short scraping noises before they thudded into the concrete as Gudmansen trudged over. ‘Just an addition to the plan.’

‘Let's go. Mannimoto. Aragi's probably going crazy waiting.’ Toshira grabbed a quick drink and headed out.

On top of a three-story building, Naiku watched the glow of the coming sun. He fidgeted and peered over the edge at the alley below. He'd finished setting his equipment two hours earlier and his biggest battle now was with his own patience. An hour earlier, he'd even tried his hand at haiku. After painting his first line on the rooftop– ‘The struggle of men’– he decided that he had no gift for poetry.

A rock skittered behind him on the rough roof surface. A signal from Mannimoto to be prepared Naiku crouched ty the large vehicle batteries lined up a meter back from the roof's edge. Wires sprouted from both the battery terminals, those from the positive leading to an assortment of switches scrounged from the repair shop and arranged in a long row. The thick collection of wires from the negative terminal gathered with the bundle from the switches and disappeared down a hold punched into the roof.

Naiku looked at the switch to his left, then to his right. ‘Ah, but which way will it come? Which switch first?’ He glanced again, then picked up the one on his right.

He heard the whine ot a power plant behind him, followed by the distant thud of footsteps. He sprawled out facing the alley, keeping his profile low. Anticipation pumped up his heart rate and made his breathing shallow.

A rock bounced on the roof and came to rest less than a meter to his left. ‘He did that on purpose,’ Naiku hissed, then he crawled across to pick up the switch farthest left.

The noise from the 'Mech increased and then split into two. One swelled in volume and closed from behind and left. The other jumble of sounds moved perpendicular to the first, behind Naiku and off to his right He heard the crunching of Mechs stepping on rubble. Lighter sounds of movement came from the alley below.

Naiku's breath came faster. He inched toward the building's edge. The fingers of his left hand curled over the corner and he slowly pulled so that he could see the alley.

A burst of fire from below and right nearly made him trigger the first switch.

It was one of his own, he realized. ‘Fake out,’ he whispered, trying to calm himself. He considered going back to the batteries and using them to restart his heart. Instead, he took a deep breath and peeked over, prepared to watch the powerful machine enter the trap.

The Marauderturned the corner and Naiku stifled a laugh. Instead of the sand and olive tones he'd expected, the Mech was an explosion of brilliant colors. Splashes of blue, orange, and red cascaded down the machine and disappeared into its heat sinks.

As the prismatic 'Mech stalked down the alley, Naiku remembered why he was sprawled on the roof. He triggered switches, activating paint sprayers to release a fine mist in front of the parti-colored MarauderA shortage of acid meant some sprayers contained thermo-chem.

The 'Mech left a swirling trail as it moved rapidly through the spray. Two-thirds of the way through the alley, it slowed, rotating side to side. Its sensors, paint-covered, couldn't maintain images and had to constantly reacquire them.

No rifle fire taunted it to move on. The Kurita soldiers were content to let it stand in the corrosive alley. Finally, it exited. As the Marauderrotated its torso left, rifle shots pinged off its right side. The 'Mech stepped right, trying to turn its torso and arms to face its attacker while it moved.

The combined effects of heat and acid had peeled and bunched the metal in the rotation ring like mud in front of a skidding tire. The gyros attempted to compensate, but the torque forces propelled the torso forward. The pilot tried to use the 'Mech's arms for balance, but the arm movements were also impaired by the corrosion. The Maraudertook two staggering steps and fell canopy-first into a concrete warehouse.

With a metallic screech, the canopy jumped its track. Twisted open and held on one bent hinge, it vibrated briefly as the engine sounds died away.

The street was silent. Then, the patter of feet closing on the downed giant echoed through concrete canyons. As the other three soldiers cautiously approached the 'Mech, Naiku called from his high vantage point, ‘The pilot's trapped, but his arms are moving. He's reaching for something.’

Wanabe broke away from a covering wall and positioned herself to see the pilot She raised her rifle and sighted. ‘Whatever it is, doesn't look like he can get it.’

Mannimoto scrambled up the torso of the downed 'Mech. ‘He's taken something.’

By the time Mannimoto reached him, the pilot was already dead.

Wanabe moved to the cockpit area and peered inside. ‘No insignia. Even the normal manufacturing information is missing.’

First checking both ways. Toshira crossed the street to join them at the Mech. ‘Thank you, Miko.’

Mannimoto finished his search. ‘Nothing on the pilot’

Toshira scanned the cockpit. ‘Miko, can you tell what he was reaching for?’

‘Something down here.’ She pointed below the canopy rail.

Naiku arrived and stared over Wanabe's shoulder He reached inside, fingering a switch and following a wire harness. ‘Might be a destruct switch.’

‘What? That's not standard.’ Wanabe looked at Naiku, then to her Sergeant.

Toshira motioned to the Recruits. ‘You two check on how Gudmansen is doing.’

They hesitated, then jogged down the street. Mannimoto nodded at the pilot's form. ‘An honorable man. Knew his duty.’

‘An honorable man. Almost like a good Kurita soldier.’

‘I see you had a similar thought, Toshira.’ Mannimoto checked the brightening sky. ‘No insignias.’

‘Clean 'Mechs.’

‘High-priced operation.’

Toshira pulled off his helmet again and absently rubbed his bald spot ‘But mercenaries don't usually commit suicide.’

‘And in such a hurry.’

‘Don't follow you there.’

‘They haven't rested. At least, not long.’ The Corporal stood and paced. ‘As no other 'Mechs have been sighted, it appears these hit the base andthe armored column. And then came back here and kept coming at us all night instead of moving off.’

‘Maybe a deadline.’

Mannimoto reached out his hand to help Toshira up. ‘I don't know. But it will make interesting conversation when we get back.’

‘When we get back?’ Toshira grabbed the hand and pulled up. ‘Why. Corporal, you're becoming an optimist.’

Three blocks from the repair shop opening, a Marauderrose from behind a rubble pile, facing their direction.

‘Move!’ Not waiting to see if Mannimoto would listen. Toshira pushed the Corporal through the entrance. ‘Hurry up. everyone. About one minute to company.’

The 'Mech charged down the street, stopping in the middle of the block to scan with its clogged Dalban HiRez.

Inside the opening, his back against the wall, Toshira struggled to stay put and monitor the 'Mech. ‘He's still got some sensors.’ He snapped his head right, looking expectantly at Naiku. ‘Ready?’

Naiku frantically worked on the trigger and shook his head.

Toshira, trying to buy time, picked up a sprayer and filled the opening with an isotherm mist.

The Mech set one giant metal foot onto the rubble and shifted its weight forward. The footing held and the Marauderwaded into the debris.

Everyone heard the crunching sounds. Mannimoto mouthed, ‘Move.’ and waved urgently at the Sergeant. Toshira started inching away from the opening.

The Mech jammed its arm into the opening. The metal-on-concrete noise filled the repair area.

Toshira stared into the muzzle of the Hellstar PPC. felt the radiating heat. He'd never been so impressed in his life. The instant seemed to stretch in time, with all going in slow motion.

The effect broke as the 'Mech lifted its arm and cleared away concrete.

Toshira leaped sideways, caught his balance, and streaked for the rear opening. ‘Ruuunnn!’

Mannimoto pulled back and headed through the destroyed warehouse.

Wanabe dragged Naiku through the opening. ‘He doesn't want to use his weapons. His sinks are clogged!’

Snickering, Naiku regained his feet.

Concrete shattered and fell off reinforcing bars.

Pale and out of breath, Toshira scrambled up the rubble. He slipped halfway though. ‘Gudmansen out? Ropes ready?’

The obstruction finally split in half and toppled to either side.

With help, Toshira got to his feet. ‘Aragi. go back so we can pass the signal to Gudmansen.’ He crouched beside Wanabe and peered back into the repair area.

Emerging from the dust, the Mech entered the repair shop and stood there. Only a dripping sound could be heard as liquid trickled from the hoses of the wash tanks.

Mannimoto continued running, passed by Gudmansen and the ropes, and left the ruined building.

The 'Mech thudded another step into the room and stopped, easily spotting the gray-painted plywood covering the pit. The Marauderstarted around the obvious trap.

Toshira waved his arm at Naiku, who passed the signal to Gudmansen.

Ropes slithered backward through the exit. Two figures armed with infernos popped up at the far corners of the room.

Reacting to the sight, the Marauderswung its arms and fired both PPCs. Bright blue lanced into the corners, obliterating the stuffed clothing and empty weapons.

The 'Mech staggered back. Toshira and Wanabe could see waves of heat rise from the machine.

Paint-blocked heat sinks were unable to deal with the intense build-up. The temperature in the cockpit shot up.

‘I don't see how the pilot can breathe,’ Wanabe whispered.

The Marauderbrushed against wash hoses designed for water only, not the solvent pumped into the tank by Gudmansen. A flame danced across the 'Mech's left arm and leaped to the hoses. Rubble interfering with its backward steps, the 'Mech pivoted to spot the opening.

Wanabe, mixed emotions obvious in her voice, pulled on the Sergeant's tunic. ‘He's going to make it out!’

There was a burst of rifle fire from the far doorway. Streams of liquid poured out of the tank onto the Marauder.A blue tunnel of fire, like a slow burst from a tiny PPC, darted from the 'Mech up to the storage tank.

Toshira and Wanabe ducked as the explosion engulfed the Marauderin flames.

Miko, unable to control her curiosity, lifted her head enough to watch the 'Mech stagger backward. ‘He's not going to eject.’

The Marauder'sleg thrust to the rear, trying to stop the momentum. The tip of the foot scraped concrete, flattened, and put its weight on burning gray plywood. The machine crushed the covering and toppled into the mechanic's pit.

Wanabe turned away as 75 tons of Marauderlanded on a -dozen brittle plastic barrels filled with thermo-chem.

Sitting on top of the broken Hunter at the main gate. Toshira cupped his hand over the old communicator's mouthpiece. He shook his head at Mannimoto. ‘This is typical. Headquarters wants to know it we'll need transportation back.’

An eyebrow-less Mannimoto shrugged. ‘Gudmansen and the others should be back soon. They seemed confident that they would come up with something. They’ve got some talent’

‘That they do.’ Toshira smiled and removed his hand from the phone. ‘We're—’

A familiar engine note and thudding sound stopped conversation. Both soldiers straightened.

Toshira whispered into the communicator. ‘Stand by.’

Mannimoto cocked his head, then turned away from the gate. ‘Toshira,’ he said. ‘Back here.’

A Marauderstalked slowly up the street, dragging an engine-less APC. Canopy gone, its body stuck facing left, arms frozen, the paint-splashed 'Mech looked more like an amusement park statue than a war machine.

Recruit Miko Wanabe sat in the pilot seat, showing a huge grin. ‘Need a ride, Corporal Mannimoto?’

Chewing his lower lip, Mannimoto turned to Toshira. ‘You know, there are some things I regret saying.’

Toshira started to point at Wanabe. then couldn't think of an appropriate reply and merely waved his hand aimlessly.

‘Edith figured out how to get it on its feet and Aragi bypassed the start sequence.’ Wanabe indicated the top of the APC where Naiku and Gudmansen sat. ‘So. Sergeant, want a ride?’

Toshira pulled his helmet off and wiped his bald spot. A squawk from the radio brought him back and he lifted the handset to his ear again. ‘Oh, sorry. Yeah, transportation? Ah, let me get back to you.’

THE RACE IS NOT TO THE SWIFT

–Bear Peters

‘... St. George... Three... incoming...’

The snarl of the radio faded, inaudible amid the rattle of falling shrapnel. Encased in his Shadow Hawk,Captain Cyrus St. George did not fear the flying debris, only the incoming missiles that caused it.

He cut from the command frequency, on which he had been alternately requesting and demanding close air support, to his tactical link with his Lance Sergeant Major. ‘Say again, Sergeant. Your transmission's garbled.’

‘Captain St. George, we've got a problem with Swords Three.’

‘Sergeant, can you nail it down? I'm trying to pry free some fighter support from H.Q.’

‘Sir, I don't think Swords Three can wait. Their CO. was taken out over 20 minutes ago. There doesn't seem to be any real command over there.’

The Captain looked out over the terrain that separated him from his right flank, not liking what he saw. The rolling ground provided too much opportunity for the enemy to form up beyond a ridgeline for a counterattack. The good news was that there were no Steiner fighters in the steel-gray sky for the first time today. ‘What's their active strength, Sergeant?’

‘They have three 'Mechs still operational—a Wasp,a Hermesand a Stinger.C.O.'s gone, and they're being hit on the front by long-range stuff, same as us. We will fall back on your position as soon as I can reach Swords One.’

‘Aye, sir. We'll be there. Count on it’

As the Sergeant's Wolverinemoved away from Swords Two's perimeter, Captain St. George muttered to himself, ‘Just buy me a minute or two to form up the company, and find out what's going on.’

Ever since the Solaris strike force had deployed, things had seemed to get progressively worse. Though the disguised DropShips had reached the landing field unscathed, the trouble began as soon as the troops had reached their primary targets. That's when the hammer fell. The Lyrans counterattacked, first with fighters in relatively weak strength, then with huge unreported concentrations of 'Mech forces. The regiment, the 33rd Marik Militia, took it on the chin for about three hours. When the Lyran attack seemed to slacken, Colonel Drinkwater, the 33rd's CO., dispatched the 131st Battalion under Force Commander Sen Sho Keshii to strike into the suburban hills. Where went Keshii's 131st, so went the Captain's 'Mech Company, The Swords of St. George, with its Swords One, Two, and Three lances.

They had been successful at the onset, but soon bogged down after they had left the city proper and penetrated the rolling countryside. After the first hours, it became obvious that the Lyran forces were winning the air war. First, the Marik fighters became scarce, then completely unavailable. Without air support, the thrust had ground to a halt. While St. George was talking to the Sergeant, Regimental had come on his command frequency with word that there was no available air support in the 33rd's theater of operations.

‘Swords One. Swords One. This is Swords Leader. What's your status? Over.’

‘Swords Leader, Sergeant Harris here. We are holding on to this front for now, sir. Where's our fighter support? We're being cut to ribbons.’

Sergeant Harris?‘Where's Lieutenant Tragg?’ St. George could not keep the worry from his voice, for his command structure was unraveling fast.

‘The Lieutenant had to punch out, sir, That last fighter wave hit us with inferno cluster bombs. His Maraudercouldn't take the heat. Reactor overload.’ The Sergeant sounded wretched. ‘He didn't make it. sir.’

Take charge, Sergeant. You're in command over there. Now report. What opposition are you facing?’

‘We've got a lot of long-range stuff coming from our front, but nothing that's a real problem.’ The Sergeant paused. ‘Unless those fighters come back.'

Harris's unspoken question hung in the the static-filled air: What happened to our fighters?Captain St. George wished fervently that he knew.

‘Swords One, fall back behind that ridge to our rear. Sergeant McHaigh should be digging in there with Swords Three. I'll be providing cover for you both.’

‘Captain, does this mean we're pulling out? What about the...’

‘Sergeant, fall back to the ridge. That's an order.’

For the moment, the Captain's communication link was silent. The Steiner forces would soon begin to notice the fall-off in counterfire. Before his position lay a row of foothills stretching like a washboard up to a line of mountains in the distance. The enemy fire was coming primarily from the ridgeline just ahead of his position, and from a forested ridge to his right. Swords Three had reported a light lance probing his flank. If he took his Shadow Hawkand Upescue's Crusadersharp right into the light lance, he just might avoid most of the long-range fire. It might also convince the Lyrans that the company was trying to wheel right for a breakthrough in that direction. If nothing else, it might confuse them.

‘Lippy, move over here. You and I are going to look for a little trouble on our right. Bryant, take your Wasp,and fire at random from all along our perimeter. I want you to fire, then move, trying to act like you're a whole company. You got that?’

‘Yes sir. Captain. Fire then run. all along our front.’

‘That's it. Shoot at everything that moves on the Steiner front for about fifteen minutes, or until they get mad and come in after you. Then run like hell for that ridgeline behind us. One and Three will be there to back you up.’

‘Gotcha, sir.’

‘Give'em hell, kid.’ St. George knew it was no time for trite phrases, but Regimental had not left him much else.

‘Ready. Lippy?’ he said. ‘Follow my line ahead, and we'll give them the old bait and switch.’

The two large units moved off in the direction of the tree line to the right. The terrain consisted of fields covered with grain up to the 'Mechs' ankles. There were no houses to be seen, and any indigs must have fled hours ago.

He could still see the shocked faces of the populace as the Swords had raced through town. They had overrun the defenses at the power plant and then dug in. Then came the counterattack. Though the rest of the 33rd was taking heavy casualties, the 131st battalion did not lose a 'Mech. They had been ordered to drive into the countryside in an attempt to draw off the heaviest forces until reinforcements arrived. The 131st had struck out from the power plant in waves. One company would go out until it stalled. Then another would thrust through its predecessor's position until it, too, ground to a halt. The waves continued one after another, deeper and deeper into the enemy positions, until the Steiners gave up and fell back. Holding the power plant and the 131st's rear was a mercenary lance. Seguin's Strikers. The rest of the 131st was spread out on either side of a corridor about three kilometers wide and thirteen long, with The Swords of St. George at its point. Then the whole Marik drive stalled. Instead of drawing off the heavy forces hammering the rest of the regiment, they had drawn down the wrath of the Lyran air arm. Meanwhile, the 33rd's counterair continued to shrink.

Moving his Shadow Hawkinto the trees, St. George left the missile barrage behind.

Watching his readouts with eager eyes, he wondered if Swords Three could have been mistaken.

Suddenly, a Locustmoved out from behind a dense thicket, probably masked from his sensors by the foliage. When St. George let loose a volley of short-range missiles, the light 'Mech's pilot sprinted straight away from the advancing Shadow Hawklike a frightened rabbit. The missiles hit near the right leg assembly, -but the Locustjust kept on moving.

‘Lippy, I've got one dead ahead. Find some cover, and be ready for my return.’

‘Roger. Cap. That thicket might do if I scrunch down and think tiny thoughts.’

The Captain charged on, opening up with both his autocannon and his laser. The Locustrolled its machine guns back around to the rear firing position, but it was a move of sheer desperation against the thicker armor of the Shadow Hawk.

St George's laser fire began to tell. The right leg servomotor on the Locustflared in a cascade of sparks, and the fleeing Mech spun, off-balance, to a halt. Then the autocannon zeroed in and began to hammer the lighter 'Mech's body. Its pilot tried frantically to bring to bear its medium laser, the only weapon that might be effective against the Shadow Hawk.It was no use. though, for the beams stabbed ineffectually into the surrounding trees. With the damaged leg, all the Locustcould do was churn the ground where it stood.

St. George launched an SRM volley into the torso armor, and the explosion touched off the Locustsremaining machine gun ammo. The light Mech sagged down on the damaged leg, smoke pouring from every vent in its torso.

‘Got one, Lippy. Be ready. This should really set them off.’

All hell broke loose around his 'Mech as the missile fire resumed in force. With their own Mech gone, the Steiner forces weren't holding back. Captain St. George lunged forward, avoiding the worst of the barrage by moving in the one direction they would least expect.

He burst from the cover of the forest onto a plain, the unseen far side of the ridge in front of the Swords position. Moving up the plain were seven Mechs. To the rear was an Atlasfiring LRMs blindly into the forest. To the left was a Warhammerand a pair of Wasps.To the right and moving up quickly was a Rifleman.In front of his Shadow Hawkand screening him from the fire of the rest were two Cicadas.

Without hesitation, he let the closest Cicadahave it with his whole weapons array. His autocannon tore into it, while the medium laser drew a blazing red scratcth down one of the Steiner machine's legs. His SRMs meanwhile scored a direct hit on the enemy Mech's torso. The injured Cicadareeled back in shock and surprise. The Captain took his opportunity, and dove back into the cover of the now smoldering forest.

‘Look out, Lippy. We're only going to have one shot before we fall back. There're two lances out there and they look confident of support, so make it good.’

‘What are we looking at, Cap'n?’ came back the Crusaderpilot's voice.

‘If we're lucky, a Cicada,but after the surprise I just gave one I met back there, look for a Rifleman.He was almost as close.’ Sweat was pouring down St. George's face. Weapons fire and rapid movement were sending his 'Mech's heat up to the danger point.

By now, the LRMs had stopped firing. The huge Assault Mech that had been supplying the fire was no doubt moving up to support its smaller fellows. St. George decided to take this opportunity to charge straight back up the path. It seemed a long time before he passed the smoking wreckage of the Locust,its torso now glowing a dull red. Despite the relative dampness that seemed to pervade the area, the 'Mech's burning had ignited the surrounding foliage.

‘Here we come, Lippy. Heads up!’ the Captain called out.

‘They'll never know what hit 'em!’ Lipescue's voice sounded eager.

St. George gave a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods there be that his company had at least a few veterans to leaven the kids. If they hadn't, this attempt to fall back would have become a rout.

The Captain's Shadow Hawkthundered past the ambush position. Lipescue's Crusaderwas barely traceable through the thick shrubbery and the background of smoldering underbrush.

‘I'm going to hook back up the path a bit. If it is the Rifleman,you'll need a little help to finish it off quickly.’

‘Don't turn too soon, sir,’ came the Crusaderpilot's reply. ‘We don't want him to think you're going to make a stand before he gets to the party.’

‘Roger that, Lippy.’

As the Captain moved up the path, he contacted the lonely Wasphe had left in the Swords's old position.

‘Trooper Bryant, Trooper Bryant. This is Captain St. George. Come in.’

‘Bryant here, sir.’

‘What does the front look like?’

‘I can't tell too much. Over where One used to be. there's some movement, but they seem cautious about the center.’

‘After our original breakout drive, I'm not surprised. They probably think we're loading up tor another thrust. Lay down some fire in the direction of One's old position. Then let the front have about a two minute fare-thee-well, before you fall back. Lippy and I should be done here by then.’

‘Yes, sir. I'll keep them guessing.’ Bryant's voice was excited.

‘Don't be late. When we come out of the forest over here, there will be two very angry lances on our tail. I don't want any part of my company cut off. Not even a measly Wasp.Ya got that?’