Текст книги "Natural Selection"

Автор книги: Michael A. Stackpole

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36

Arc-Royal

Federated Commonwealth

11 September 3055

 

Harry Pollard's shining moment of glory ended when the returning Roguelaunched thirty long-range missiles at his Valkyrie.First he saw his own medium laser actually hit the landing OverlordDropShip and his LRMs scatter flames over its hull, then his world erupted into flame. His head slammed back into the command couch and stars danced before his eyes as titanic forces shook the Valkyrie.

Warning klaxons blared inside the cockpit and Harry tasted blood on his upper lip. He felt his 'Mech spinning and saw the Valkyrie'sright arm whirl away through the fire curtain around him. The left-arm armor had also been breached, but the chest armor still held. Loss of the right arm meant that his laser had gone the way of his compatriots.

I still have missiles!Harry clung to that hope as his Valkyrietottered and fell. Extending the 'Mech's left arm, he tried to post off the ground, but the machine had become too unstable for him to accomplish such a miraculous maneuver. He did manage to alter his fall so that he did not land face-down. Ican still punch out!

The Valkyriehit the ground with the considerable force that might be expected of a thirty-ton object propelled by copious amounts of high explosives. Its most important yet fragile component rattled around in the command couch like a lone pea in a can. Before he could hit the ejection system, Harry's head slammed again into the command couch, hitting with enough force to crack the neurohelmet and the skull beneath it.

Harry Pollard died in a cage, but he died happy.

Nestled in a dark room, with the bowl of the sky simulated above him in glittering detail, Nelson Geist heard the Kell Hound aerofighters scream skyward from the Old Connaught base. His fingers curled into fists as a needto be part of the fight burned in his veins. They deny you the chance to fight, but they will need you yet.

A bright rectangle opened on the horizon and Nelson recognized Bates's silhouette. "Kommandant Geist, we've got direct gun-camera feed here. They've got Red right where they want her. Want to see the end to it?"

The gaunt man shook his head mechanically. "No, thank you. They'll need my work when she escapes."

"She's not escaping. We have three regiments to oppose her one. She can't get away."

Nelson waved the door shut. "When she escapes, they'll need my work."

Bates shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He closed the door, leaving Nelson in his perforated darkness. "I am." He hit a button on the keyboard of the computer display unit he was using and constellations shifted as he centered himself on another world. Just because they won't let me help them doesn't mean they don't need me. And it doesn't mean, when the time comes, that I won't be ready to help them.

* * *

The forty kilometers from Old Connaught to Denton passed in 3.25 minutes for the Kell Hound fighters. Caitlin would have preferred flying higher and faster, but remaining on the deck gave them a shot at surprise. The foothills, though not terribly high, provided enough of a radar-shadow that fighters with their radar in air-to-ground mode might not notice them until too late.

A minute and a half out Raven Flight shot over the Kilkenny. Caitlin used the bridges as a check against her computer-generated map, smiling to see that they were dead on course. As the land sloped back up toward the foothills, she nudged the throttle forward. Only thirty seconds from Denton she began to pick up passive radar tracks from the enemy fighters.

She flipped her weapons-control on and saw all four of her lasers and the PPC in the nose go green. All dressed up and someplace to go!The secondary monitor showed another flight coming in behind her and she knew from the designation that it was the Clanners. "Luck, Carew," she breathed cautiously. Opening her radio channel she brought her Stingrayup and over the foothills. "Go, Ravens, go!"

Caitlin dropped her crosshairs on the boxy shape of a Roguerising lazily out of a strafing run. Kicking her rudder right she slipped into his six and let him have it with everything her Stingrayhad to offer. From his lack of movement she knew she'd hit him before he knew he was hunted.

The PPC strung a blue line from the Stingray'snose to the ship's fuselage. Starting just behind the cockpit and ripping back along the craft, the hits bisected the stabilizer between the halves of the split tail. One medium pulse laser pumped more fire into the scar while the other chipped away at the armored engine cowling in the aft. One of the two large lasers pulsed a green energy rod into the left wing, melting armor into a ceramic rain that fell on Denton while the other cored the engine.

A brilliant shower of sparks shot out of the engine as a drive unit failed, sending the Rogueinto a slow roll that marked its loss of power. The craft began to pull back to the starboard side, then it simply disintegrated. It happened so slowly and carefully that it almost looked to Caitlin like a computer diagram being exploded to show what the Roguelooked like inside.

A wall of heat hit her. She glanced at her auxiliary monitor and saw the heat spike up into the red zone and remain there despite her heat sinks coming on line. She shook her head to fight off the desire to faint in the heat and she overrode the fighter's computer-mandated desire to shut down. Too much, too fast. Gotta watch it, kid.

She pulled up and came over in a looping turn that let her bleed off some heat and build up some airspeed. Gotta be more careful, Caitlin.She smiled as she saw the Rogue'sfragments continue to fall. But that was one hell of a first impression we made.

* * *

With the fighters' arrival imminent, Dan Allard gave the order for the Hounds to move forward out of the

Clonarf bunkers. Huge doors cranked open and the 'Mechs best suited to antiair operations came out first to take out any unwelcome bandit pilots on a strafing run. Once they had secured the canyons and draws where the openings to the mountain bases had been hidden, the scout units headed out.

Phelan headed his Wolfhoundstraight north, and saw from ground level what had been fed to him from watching stations on top of the mountains. One Overlordhad grounded on the edge of Denton, while the other had moved out toward the foothills and the M5 leading north to Old Connaught. As the first of the fighters withdrew, both ships disgorged their armies. One flew north, beyond the foothills, while the other shifted south and landed in Denton.

Phelan started a search program on his onboard computer, and it locked on to a target in the furthest group of bandit 'Mechs. He ordered up magnification on his holographic display and was rewarded with the image of a scarlet BattleMaster.Punching up a tightbeam radio configuration, he focused it on that 'Mech.

"In the name of the ilKhan of the Clans and in the name of Prince Victor Davion, I order you and your people to surrender now. If you do not, your command will be destroyed."

The return message came immediately as a picture filled his secondary monitor. He saw red hair splayed out over the shoulders of a cooling vest and bright eyes peering through the triangular viewport of a neurohelmet. "Those better than you have already tried, wolfling."

Phelan shook his head, "There are none better than I am. There are none better than the Kell Hounds. We outnumber you three to one. Surrender."

"Only a Wolf would offer surrender, and only a Wolf would accept it." Her eyes narrowed. "Though you do not deserve it, I will grant you a warrior's death."

Her confidence, though strong and angry, seemed unnatural to Phelan. She cannot believe what she is saying. She is covering surprise, but how solid is that cover?"I do not offer you surrender for myself," he started slowly, "but I offer it at the request of Nelson Geist."

Her eyes widened for a moment before the image went dead, that hit home!He shifted over to Tac One. "Colonel Allard, it's a fight to the finish. No quarter asked or given."

"Never expected it to be anything else." Dan's voice began to fade as more frequencies were opened. "Defend your home, Hounds."

* * *

Chris Kell's Thunderboltled Alpha Battalion from its position in the west and out into the sunlight. He had the northwestern flank of the Kell Hound position, his battalion serving as a screening force to pick up the bandit unit near the foothills. Chris knew the Red Corsair had grounded a force there to defend against troops coming down from Old Connaught, which was the most logical location for reinforcements.

As his troops moved out, Chris saw the battle plan that Phelan and Dan had outlined beginning to unfold. The foothill group of bandits, designated the Sidhe, began to withdraw into the hills. The other group, the Baile, moved into Denton. Though it looked as though the Sidhe were abandoning the Baile, to make their way across the plain north of Denton and into the town, or out of it, would have meant marching across a killzone and the death of the bandits making the trip.

Chris opened a radio channel to Dan Allard. "Colonel, the Sidhe are into the hills. Alpha is in position and awaiting your order to pursue."

"Roger, Major. Stand by."

Chris saw a long line of the red and black Kell Hounds 'Mechs form a semicircle around Denton to the south and west. The BattleMechs to the south, with a star of black 'Mechs from the Wolf Clan at the far end, began to move forward. In Denton, the scarlet and gold bandit 'Mechs spread out and assumed defensive positions that promised nasty urban fighting.

"Alpha Leader?"

Chris nodded. "Yes, Colonel?"

"Go. The Sidhe are yours."

* * *

Caitlin pulled back on her stick and pointed the Stingray'snose at the sky. She punched her feet down on the overthrust pedals and felt gravity pull her down into the command couch as she rocketed away from Arc-Royal. The keening sound in her cockpit told her the maneuver had not shaken her pursuit, and as she dropped her crosshairs into her aft arc, she saw the range between them dropping off.

Damned Hellcat can out-climb me. Still, it's a flying wing. Yaw has to be a problem!"Raven Leader, I have a Hellcatin my six. Who wants him?"

"I will oblige you."

Caitlin smiled as she heard Carew answer her call. "Okay, he's yours!" She jammed her stick forward in a maneuver that started her in a loop that put her cockpit on the outside of the circle. She began to see red as the forces of gravity rushed blood to her head. She knew, as did every pilot who had ever flown, that the loop she had started was slow and stupid and almost guaranteed to make the pilot "red-out."

Before she could lose consciousness, she cranked the Stingrayaround in a tight roll centered on the left wing-tip. Pulling up on the stick, she regained some altitude and managed to flash past the nose of the Hellcat.Twin green laser beams passed through a point on her six, but they missed her by a hundred meters.

"Get him, Vulture Leader." Caitlin popped her Stingrayinto another roll and lined a Tridentup in her sights.

* * *

"Wilco, Raven Leader," Carew growled as he pulled his Visigothup into a steep climb. His aerospace fighter had nowhere near the power of the Hellcat,or the Stingray,for that matter, but it packed more weaponry than either of them. Closer in shape to the flying wing design of the Hellcatthan the Stingray,the dual rear stabilizers and the elongated weapon pods running parallel to and in front of the fuselage eliminated the faster fighter's yaw problem.

The Clan pilot watched the Hellcat'snose begin to dip. as the Stingraywent into the negative-G loop. He smiled as she inverted and shot back up in a teardrop loop above the Hellcat'snose. The Cat'spilot rolled to get back on Caitlin's tail, and started a long dive to pick up air speed. When he saw Carew, he punched his overthrusters, sending long flame jets out the back of the Hellcat'stail.

In his panic, the Hellcatpilot hit one pedal a second before the other, giving the fighter's engine a momentary burst of energy before the other engine kicked in. In most aerospace fighters this would have resulted in the start of a power turn, but in the Hellcatit created another problem. The leading edge of the right wing began to inch forward as the fighter started a rotation around its vertical axis.

It took a second or two to correct, and in that time Carew rolled his Visigothin right behind the Hellcat.When Carew punched his thumb down on the stick's firing stud, the nose-mounted particle projection cannon loosed a bolt of synthetic lightning that chopped into the Hellcat'sleft wing and nibbled away at the vertical stabilizer. As Carew also hit the missile launcher, the Hellcatjuked to the left, pulling the wing out of harm's way.

Thirty LRMs streaked from the Visigothand peppered the Hellcat'sfuselage. Carew saw two green-gray clouds from missile clusters that told him heat sinks had been destroyed. One set of missiles had pulverized thrust vector nozzles while another three LRMs had blasted away at the armor over the engine. None of the hits were fatal in themselves, but taken as a whole, they doomed the Hellcat.

The flying wing, unable to use the port thrust vectors, remained flying straight and level for what must have seemed an eternity to the pilot. Carew, riding close behind the craft, felt time slipping away incredibly fast, but his heat monitor showed the Visigoth'stemperature dropping back to normal ranges, so he fired again.

The PPC's blue lightning raked through the armor over the fuselage, and another heat sink exploded in a spray of greenish liquid. A pulse laser lanced red darts into the engine cowling and another blew more armor from the fuselage, again destroying thrust vector nozzles.

Carew glanced at his secondary display. The Hellcathad lost three of its fifteen heat sinks. The armor on the fuselage had been damaged but not breached. The pilot had to want to disengage, but his thruster damage prevented that and the loss of his heat sinks meant overthrusting would make him overheat. Still, the fighter was operational and—as the laser from the after turret reminded Carew—it was still dangerous.

How much damage will you take before you die ?Carew dropped the crosshairs on the plane's outline. And how long before one of your comrades scrapes me off your tail?

* * *

Phelan hit his radio as he brought his Star up at the extreme edge of what was likely to be the bandit's range. "Ragnar, we have to let them know we are serious. We need an example. Try the DropShip."

"As you will it, my Khan."

Phelan's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the OverlordDropShip sitting on the pristine ferrocrete of the landing pad. A reality of warfare in the thirty-first century was that it had become incalculably expensive. Over the previous three hundred years the Inner Sphere had managed to all but blow itself back into the Stone Age. Recovery of a memory core from the Star League era had begun a renaissance that brought with it more factories to produce the materiel of war, but most BattleMechs were still being cobbled together from bits and pieces salvaged after battles.

The Kell Hounds had been rebuilt after the battle for Luthien from just such salvage. The bandits would be stopped, but if the Hounds could convince them to surrender before their machines were destroyed, not only would it save lives on both sides, it would also enrich the mercenaries above and beyond the compensation promised by Victor Davion.

The DropShip Lionesswas a masterpiece of lostech– the Inner Sphere term for any item whose technology had been lost for so long. The robotic factories in the Inner Sphere turned out less than a thousand DropShips a year, making each one incredibly valuable. While the OverlordClass ship represented a staggering sum of money if it could be captured, it also represented the Baile's only way off Arc-Royal.

The ferrocrete of the landing pad had been poured over a metric quarter-ton of plastic explosive shaped in a cylinder and centered beneath the circle at the heart of the pad. When Ragnar hit a switch on the command console of his Viper,the plastique detonated. It blew up and out with a force that would have registered 5.2 on the Richter scale, vaporizing the ferrocrete and shooting a fiery plume half a kilometer into the air.

The Lionesshad landed somewhat west and north of center. The explosion crumpled the aft-starboard quadrant, rupturing the vessel like a hammer smashing a naranji.The ship lifted up off the ground and started to tumble, then came down again, bounced through a building, then started to come apart. Weapon magazines began to explode, spraying out armor and weapons, then the ship landed on a second building, creating an explosion that ripped the OverlordDropShip apart.

Phelan felt the Shockwave of the detonation and steadied his Wolfhoundagainst it. In Denton windows shattered and 'Mechs toppled. As he watched, most of the machines got back to their feet and braced themselves for the Kell Hound attack.

Phelan saw a light start to blink on his radio control panel and he punched the button beneath it. A bandit stared up at him from his secondary monitor. "Treacherous dog. Come to your monument and we will show you how real warriors die."

"If you werereal warriors, I would." Phelan's green eyes narrowed. "You are bandits. You will die like bandits and you shall be remembered as bandits." Then he broke the connection and reopened his link to Ragnar. "The school, then the municipal building. Drive them south so they won't harass Alpha Battalion."

* * *

When the plan was first proposed, Chris and his people had not liked the idea of being sent into the foothills after the Sidhe. The hills were a bonus to the defender, both because the aggressor had to attack uphill and because the defenders could arrange ambushes by lying in wait. The Red Corsair might be leading bandits, but in that terrain, even bad pilots could amass kills.

A blue light flashed on Chris's command console as telemetry began to scroll up his secondary screen. He opened a radio channel and sent the data out to his fire support lances. "The fix is in. Fire at will."

* * *

Deep in the foothills, hidden halfway down a wooded ravine that ran north to south, Evantha held the laser built into the right arm of her Elemental armor steady on the Vindicator.The bandit 'Mech's red and gold color contrasted sharply with the surrounding foliage, but it did not matter because she watched him on the infrared setting of her armor's holographic display. In addition to the normal heat radiating from the charging coils of the PPC that replaced the bandit 'Mech's right forearm, a small dot rode on the junction of its torso and right hip.

It came from the invisible infrared beam of her laser. She had not been at all comfortable with the idea of sacrificing one of her main weapons for a spotting laser, but the Khan had approved the plan, so she accepted it. Each of the five Elemental Points had one member acting as spotter, with the rest ready to pick off any survivors.

She saw a blue flash at the lower corner of her view-plate. Incoming.Holding her arm rigid, she braced herself for the blast. She knew it would not be long in coming and would be devastating when it hit.

To Evantha it looked as if a volcano had opened up beneath the Vindicator'sbroad feet. One moment the 'Mech was walking through a forest and the next it had become a black silhouette in the center of a fire spout. Missile after missile pounded the Vindicator,crushing armor into sharp ceramic shards, stripping the right arm of armor, and mangling both the shoulder and elbow joints. The PPC twisted out of line with the 'Mech's flank and pointed down toward the ground.

Amazingly, as the smoke cleared and burning trees toppled, the Vindicatorremained standing. The armor on its body and both legs had been damaged, but the pilot had managed to keep the war machine upright. Evantha knew that meant he was very skilled—better than any bandit should be.

Evantha kept her laser trained on him. Glancing at the row of icons beneath her holographic display, she triggered one and sent out another burst of telemetry. Hit him again, Chris.

* * *

As Carew covered the Hellcatwith his crosshairs, once more, the warning klaxon started to blare. Someone has a lock on me!He glanced at his display and saw a Tridentswooping down on him in his four. He rolled his Visigothover on its right wing, then pulled back on the stick and came up into an Immelmann. As he headed back toward the Tridentand passed beyond it, he again hugged the stick to his stomach and completed the full loop.

The Hellcatcame up into his sights again, so he punched the PPC off and added in twin medium pulse lasers. The PPC blasted away at the engine cowling while one of the lasers smoked another heat sink. The second laser ripped up the armor on the right wing, burning away some of the paint job.

Carew blinked as the Hellcatcame up and over on its left wing. As it whirled away to his port, he got a good look at the insignia previously hidden by the bandits' burning red and gold paint. No, that could not have been! No one would be so bold. No one would be so insane.The flames consumed the insignia, but Carew could not forget it.

Before the true import of what he had seen could sink in, the warning klaxon again sounded in his cockpit. DamnedTrident! Carew fixed it with his rear lasers and was about to trigger a blast when three energy beams shot up from beneath the Tridentand raked through it like shrapnel through fog. A PPC beam opened the fuselage from nose to tail like a giant blue can opener, while twin large lasers scissored through the right wing. The wing folded up and in toward the cockpit, then snapped off and dropped away as the smoking fighter began to spiral down toward the ground.

"Eagle Leader says thanks."

"Not a problem, Eagle Leader," he heard Caitlin answer him. "Just returning a favor."

* * *

Under the cover of his fire support lances, Chris and the rest of Alpha Battalion entered the foothills. The paths left by the bandits were easy to follow. Radio messages from the Elementals made locating the enemy 'Mechs easy, and the first ones he saw were the burning, smashed hulks of those the LRM-equipped 'Mechs were destroying from afar.

Bringing his Thunderboltaround a hillock, Chris saw an improbably slender BattleMech move into the meadow from another little valley off to his right. He swung the Thunderboltto the right and centered the crosshairs on the Ostsol.He kept the sights on the 'Mech's torso, and when he got the dot confirming a weapons lock, he fired.

The large laser mated to the Thunderbolt'sright forearm sent needles of green energy through the Ostsol'sright arm armor, stripping it completely and even chipping away at the ferro-titanium bone beneath. But Chris knew better than to take comfort in that damage. The Ostsol'sarms were used only for balance and, apparently, absorbing damage that would have been more harmful elsewhere.

The trio of medium lasers mounted in the Thunderboltdid more damage. Two melted away armor in the Ostsol'schest, and the third savaged the left leg armor. Another shot or two in those places and he could cripple the enemy 'Mech.

The Ostsolgave back better than it got, however. The twin large pulse lasers mounted high in the torso superheated armor over the center of the Thunderbolt'schest and on the left arm. One of the medium pulse lasers in the 'Mech's belly added more damage to that on the Thunderbolt'schest, reducing its armor to 40 percent of the original, while the other one burned a nasty gash in the armor on the Thunderbolt'sleft thigh.

The Ostsolhad burned off more than two tons of armor plating, and the Thunderbolt'sgyros sought to compensate for the weight loss. Chris managed to keep the 'Mech upright, tracking the Ostsolwith his sights. The assault had left him running hot, but he could see that his enemy had also pushed his heat high in hopes of scoring a crippling blow.

In a split-second Chris decided not to push his heat again. He knew his 'Mech was better-suited to a slugging match than the Ostsol.He triggered his three pulse lasers and felt a heat spike gush hot air into the cockpit. Sweat covered his exposed flesh, but he was concentrating too hard on the damage his shots did to worry about heat.

The medium pulse lasers all hit, but they failed to punch through the Ostsol'sarmor. Two continued his assault on the center and right sides of the chest, but the third burned armor from the 'Mech's vestigial left arm. The pilot kept his 'Mech upright and returned fire with a vengeance.

The Ostsolpilot had decided to take no chances. One of the two large pulse lasers he directed at the Thunderboltmissed high, but the second burned almost all the way through the armor over the 'Mech's heart. A medium pulse laser followed it up and melted away some of the center torso's internal structures. Warning klaxons screamed throughout the cockpit, then more of them sounded as the second pulse laser blasted into the Thunderbolt'shead, vaporizing virtually all the armor.

Chris reflexively shied away from the brilliant head-shot, and his Thunderboltrecoiled with him. It stumbled and went down to one knee. Chris jerked forward, held in his command couch by the restraining belts, then arched his back and pulled the Thunderboltupright. Its right leg kicked out to stabilize it—dirt clods flying and trees falling as the foot dug into the dark loam for solid traction.

My chest armor is breached!Chris looked at the glowing circle of red on the auxiliary monitor's picture of the Thunderbolt.He knew a shot there or to the head with anything the Ostsolcarried would finish his 'Mech and likely kill him. He swung his large laser over to cover the enemy 'Mech, prepared to trigger everything. Now is no time to be cautious.

As he dropped the crosshairs on the Ostsol,he noticed it was not moving at all. Shifting his holographic display over from vislight to infrared, he saw the machine glowing like a supernova. It's overheated. The computers shut it down.

He tightbeamed a message to the pilot. "Pop your canopy now and surrender. The fight is over for you."

Chris got a reply, but not the one he expected.

As he watched in horror, the canopy exploded outward in a shower of smoky glass fragments. A fireball ignited in the cockpit and he expected to see the command couch shoot out on an ejector rocket. He knew that ejecting into the woods was suicidal because the trees would crush any escaping pilot against their boles before the couch could correct its course. Instead of the command couch and pilot, the fire spat out bits and pieces of both. The spherical head plumped at the edges, then the top of it blew clean off.

The Ostsolfell forward, spilling burning sparks from its cockpit like glowing coals bouncing from a toppling barbecue.

Chris's mouth went sour. He knew that what he had seen couldhave been a failure of the escape rocket to ignite properly, or else the failure of restraining bolts to pop free on the command couch. Deep down he hopedthat was what he had witnessed, but he knew it was not.

That pilot committed suicide to avoid capture.Chris swallowed hard. We've always known these bandits were unusual. Just how unusual we underestimated by a parsec.

* * *

Phelan acknowledged the radio call from Dan Allard with a nod. "Roger, Colonel, the Sidhe have broken and are heading north. I will have Conal's people move in and cut them off from the DropShip out there to pick them up." Phelan twitched his right hand and brought his crosshairs onto a Riflemanlining up a shot at Ranna's Warhawk.He punched his thumb down and sent a large laser beam slicing through the Rifleman'sexposed knee joint. The beam melted away the ends of the ferro-titanium bones, pitching the big 'Mech to the right and spoiling its aim at Ranna.

The Clan Khan keyed his radio to Tac Three. "Star Colonel Ward, the Sidhe are headed in your direction. Stop them."

"They will not pass, my Khan."

Conal's reply bothered Phelan briefly, but then a bandit Vindicatortook notice of him. The 'Mech's PPC swung into line with the Wolfhoundand let fly with a bolt of cerulean electricity. The energy whip flayed all the armor off the Wolfhound'sright arm and started to work on the pseudomuscles and bones. Phelan rocked back in his command couch and felt a static tingle over his arms and legs.

A glance at his auxiliary monitor told him that the 'Mech's arm still functioned and that its large laser mounted was still useable, but not whether the Vindicatorhad hit it again. Can't take that chance.He gritted his teeth and spitted the Vindicatoron his crosshairs.

The combination of the Clan targeting computer and Phelan's steady hand kept all the Wolfhound'sweapons tight on target. The green beam of the large laser punched into the left side of the Vindicator'schest, reducing more than 60 percent of its armor to vapor and liquid droplets. Then the trio of medium pulse lasers sent a hail of red energy darts through the armor steam. Flames jetted back out through the quintet of LRM firing ports in the 'Mech's left breast and a greenish tinge in the smoke told Phelan that a heat sink had been blasted away. The 'Mech's left arm sagged as the shoulder girdle evaporated.

The sheer violence of the assault against it twisted the Vindicatoraround and dumped it on the ground. As the pilot tried to lever the 'Mech back up, pushing off the ground with its PPC, two green energy spears passed through it, one reigniting the fire in its chest and the other obliterating its head. Decapitated by the beam, the 'Mech flopped onto its back, with twin smoke plumes drifting upward.

"Thank you, Ranna," Phelan gasped as heat shot into his cockpit. His heat sinks labored to purge it, and brought the temperature down quickly, but the burst of heat from his attack left him breathless for a moment. "Good shooting."

"It would not do for the Khan's Honor Guard to allow him to die."