Текст книги "Decision at Thunder Rift"

Автор книги: Уильям Кейт

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

It was for this reason that Tor's mission was coordinated so precisely with Grayson's forces on Trellwan. The Lancers would be in position to attack the spaceport at the same time Tor's DropShip approached the Invidious.The ground attack's first target would be the spaceport control tower, which housed the communications relays to the commnet dish antenna that could warn the enemy warship of the assault on the Invidious.

Too, the ground attack could not be launched before the DropShip reached the freighter. If it were, someone in the tower might alert the warship, and the warship's officers might become suspicious of the timing of that lone DropShip approaching the freighter. A laser's flare could end Tor's mission just kilometers short of its goal.

Tor looked at the computer screen on his console, which showed the elapsed days, hours, and minutes since launch. Their burn time had been carefully adjusted so that the DropShip would arrive at the Invidious'stationkeeping zone at precisely 55 hours, 30 minutes after launch.

T plus 55.5 hours was the jump-off time for both attacks. That was if everything had gone according to plan  on Trellwan. Tor and his men were about to risk their lives on the assumption that it had.

* * * *

More than 50 hours after local sunrise, Trell had crawled clear of the horizon and was hanging low and to one side of the black silhouette of Mount Gayal. The swollen, mottled red disk could still be looked at without discomfort, but the red light had thrown the entire western face of Gayal into shadow so deep Grayson could not make out the Castle; The temperature was already several degrees above freezing. The faint and distant sussurration the 'Mechs were picking up on their external mikes was the first roar of falling meltwater from the depths of Thunder Rift.

The assault force was approaching from the west this time, making use of the rugged and water-tortured ground to shield the 'Mechs from enemy radar and other remote sensors. Grayson was in the newly captured Shadow Hawkseveral kilometers from the rest. He had found another arroyo southwest of the port, and he'd moved the Hawkinto the shelter of an undercut bank. A computer display on his instrument console flickered with the passing seconds. Fifty-five hours, twenty-eight minutes had passed since the DropShip's launch. In two minutes, the attack would begin.

The Lancers' assault of two days before had caught the Combine forces off guard, allowing Grayson and his men to retire to their hiding place in the Rift without being pursued. The enemy had managed to launch only one missile-firing helicopter, and that had been brought down by a salvo from one of the Lancer's missile-firing hovercraft

There was no way to achieve such surprise a second time. In the past 50 hours, Combine forces at Sarghad had offloaded and readied two full 'Mech companies – twenty-four BattleMechs of various models and sizes. Two Lances, totalling eight 'Mechs, had been deployed in the city around the Palace grounds, and another Lance had moved into the Castle shortly after Grayson's escape with the Shadow Hawk.The remaining company of twelve 'Mechs stood sentry at the spaceport. Eight were patrolling constantly while the remaining four were being serviced.

There was also at least one other 'Mech at the port, Lieutenant Vallendel's black and grey Marauder.Grayson wondered if Duke Ricol's own red and black Marauder,the Red Hunter, were also on Trellwan, though he'd seen no sign of it.

The Red Duke's forces also included ground troops, at least 250 soldiers equipped with a variety of hovercraft and light tracked vehicles suitable for rough mountain terrain that air cushion craft couldn't manage. These troops were armed with an impressive array of assault rifles, man-portable lasers, and shoulder-fired missile launchers.

A direct attack against such a force was clearly hopeless, but an attack was the only way to knock out the communications relay tower. Grayson looked at another screen, whose image was coming to him from a small camera at the top of the wadi's wall. The antenna of the relay system was a 20-meter mast topped by a shallow, wire mesh dish five meters across, which was canted low toward the southeast horizon. That was the direction of the nadir jump point, the place where – if everything was on schedule – Tor should be approaching the Invidiousin the captured DropShip at this very moment.

The tower was Grayson's special target. The other 'Mechs of the Lance, the 20-tonner Locust, Stinger,and Wasp,would be attacking the base, which was patrolled by at least thirteen heavy 'Mechs. With the odds they faced, the Lancers' battle plan would require a careful use of strategy.

The plan called for the light 'Mechs to attack the hydrogen tanks once again, then flee. They expected most of the 'Mechs on hand to pursue the Lancers as they retreated toward the hills. Grayson was sure the Combine forces would be determined to trap the raiders this time, chase them to their camp, and destroy them once and for all.

But while the main 'Mech force was chasing the three raiders, Grayson would slip into their rear and destroy the antenna. The Lancers' hovercraft and troops were deployed in rugged, defensible terrain halfway up the mountain slopes toward the Rift A stubborn defense might allow the Lancers' light 'Mechs to escape, and discourage active pursuit.

Might... might... might... Grayson rubbed his hands over his face, and tried to dispel the fears that plagued him. There were so many unknowns here. Was Tor really in command of the DropShip? Would he be able to take the Invidiouswithout interference from the Combine warship that must be somewhere in that same area? Could three light 'Mechs and a handful of half-trained troops survive an all-out attack by three full Lances of medium and heavy 'Mechs?

Once before he had mapped out a daring battle plan against superior odds, only to watch that plan dissolve in blood and fire as the Repair Bay door crashed shut behind them. Given the cunning and resourcefulness of Duke Ricol, it was entirely possible that Grayson was leading his people into another trap, one even more deadly than they'd faced before.

His first suggestion at their council of war had been that he slip into the port alone. A knapsack packed with high-velocity explosives might bring the radio tower down.

Might... might...

His men had vetoed the idea. The attack against the tower HAD to succeed – and succeed immediately. If the Duke's people managed to get through a warning to either the Invidiousor the Combine warship, they would blast Tor's DropShip into meteoric fragments. Only the Shadow Hawk'sfirepower, consisting of medium laser, autocannon, and short-range missile clusters, could guarantee a successful strike on the tower.

Tor was depending on Grayson, who, in turn, was depending on Lori, Garik Enzelman, and Yarin to buy him the time he needed to get close to that tower.

30

The final seconds ticked away.

And then it was time. Grayson's external mikes picked up the swoosh of missiles, as Enzelman's Wasploosed a barrage of SRMs with smoke charges behind their warheads. They arced low and flat across the port, exploding into clouds of impenetrable white smoke. As the Duke's men returned fire with savagely interlacing beams from grounded DropShips and defensive bunkers, the air shrieked with the multiple concussions of exploding warheads.

Grayson's camera zoomed in on the low-hanging drift smoke. He could barely make out the strutting bird-shape of Lori's Locustas it moved across the screen. Somewhere, a heavy autocannon yammered and howled, and pinpoint flashes erupted close by Lori's 'Mech. The enemy would be aiming by radar in that soup, which was not as accurate as an optical or laser lock, but deadly enough at close range. He winced as a pair of bright flashes scored on the Locust'shull.

More missiles arced out of the smoke as the Wasplaid down a second barrage. A sharp, piercing tone sounded in his ear, indicating that the Lancer's ECM program was running. If the ECM did not succeed in jamming the enemy's targeting radar, all three Lancer 'Mechs would be swiftly hunted down and destroyed.

Grayson detected another movement, heavy and lumbering off to the right. He swung the camera back to the east and hit the extended zoom. There! Close by the squat shapes of the grounded UnionDropShips were a pair of 'Mechs lurching toward the smoky field. The near 'Mech was a Rifleman,a 60-tonner with paired, over-under lasers and an autocannon mounted in the place of arms. Grayson shivered as he realized that one Riflemanweighed as much as Lori's entire, three-'Mech command. And beyond the Riflemanwas the 55-ton bulk of a Wolverine,with the odd protuberance of a laser turret built high up in its massively armored chest, and a heavy autocannon carried on the right arm. In the air, the lean, shark's shape of an attack helicopter swooped down from the distant Castle.

The smoke cloud was laced with flashes and stabs of light. The DropShips seemed to be firing at random into the cloud, unsure of their targets. The radar-jamming seemed to be working in the same way as the smoke cloud to block the Combine forces' use of laser targeting. It did not matter much that the Lancers' targeting countermeasures also prevented them from targeting effectively. It was no part of the plan for the Lancers' three 20-ton 'Mechs to stand and tangle with the heavies that were thundering across the ferrocrete landing area now.

Grayson's helmet crackled, then erupted in sharp, . electronic tones on the Lancers' combat frequency. "Lancer One, this is Lancer Three! I've got infantry movement on our left! They're circling behind us!"

"Roger, Three. Start your retreat,"

"Lancer One, this is Two. Three 'Mechs on this side, at 300 meters and closing! PBIs in support. Two... make that three HVTs!"

"Okay, Two. All units, pull back. Stick to..."

Lori's transmission was cut off by a savage burst of static. The smoke cloud lit up blue as a charged particle beam stabbed through its heart. Grayson swung the camera back and forth, trying hard to find the 'Mech that had fired. It had to be a big one to mount a PPC. For one horrible moment, he thought the beam had caught Lori. Then, the shrieking static of charged particles faded, and he heard her transmission again.

"All units, keep spread out! Watch your rears!"

Grayson had lost track of their position now, though more smoke rockets were lofting down into the smoke screen to keep the heavy grey-white cloud spreading across the field. He could make out the shadowy silhouettes of at least five heavy 'Mechs moving through the smoke, heading west and north.

Grayson felt a twisting sense of guilt, lying with his 'Mech camo-netted and well out of the line of fire. It could not be otherwise, but that didn't ease his soul at the moment. He had to sit by while his friends were being hard-pressed by vastly superior numbers.

The sounds of combat grew fainter within the smoke, but the electronic chatter among his Lance mates continued. Grayson could sense a growing note of urgency in their voices even through the filtering of electronic reproduction.

"This is Three! This is Three! That was Yarin in the Stinger,facing his first 'Mech combat. "Temperature's up and I've got a shutdown warning!"

"Kick in your overrides, Three, and stay cool. All units, zero check. Repeat, zero check."

Grayson reached for his controls, bringing the Shadow Hawkto its feet in an explosion of camouflage netting and sand. "Zero check" was the prearranged code to let him know that the Lance had reached the rough, boulder-strewn rise that led up the slope toward Thunder Rift. It was time to launch the next phase of their plan.

* * * *

The wind was stronger high on the slopes of the Rift mountains, and was dissolving the smoke screen as quickly as Enzelman could fire his smoke rockets. The three 'Mechs had to draw in closer, too, for the rise toward the Rift was a dried-out alluvial fan that began broad and flat, but quickly narrowed as it rose. Lori mopped sweat and strands of dripping hair from her face. The action had already been going on for almost an hour with no sign of let-up, and the internal temperatures of all three 'Mechs were rising to critical levels.

Lori watched as a shape materialized from the smoke 250 meters below her. Then, the targeting crosshairs of her main imager centered on that shape. Her computer read mass and power plant emissions, while a glowing, wire-outlined image appeared on her screen. It was a Wasp.Though certain Garik was behind her and to her left, she punched the IFF receiver to be sure.

The Wasp'slaser fired in the same instant she read the transponder ID. Superheated rocks exploded near the Locust'sleg, the fragments clattering across her hull. She squeezed the firing trigger convulsively, and saw orange flame fork from the Wasp'storso armor, leaving a blackened scar across its chest. Though the 'Mech twisted away from the beam, it was trailing smoke, and Lori could see blue lightning flickering in the ragged wound.

She fired again, and again. Two hits more! The Waspwas having difficulty standing. One leg seemed frozen, and apparently the pilot was having trouble keeping the 'Mech balanced. Lori urged the Locustforward 30 meters, then stopped and fired again. Fire gouted from the stricken Wasp'storso and there was a splatter of molten metal.

The Wasp'shead exploded in smoke and light as the pilot ejected. The huge hull of the machine keeled over backward, leaving a curved trail of black smoke as it went down.

Another missile blast near the leg of her Locustsent Lori back up the hill. The boulders were thicker here, many of them the size of a house, and the battle became a game of sight, fire, and dodge among the sheltering rocks.

"Garik!" she called on the general combat frequency. "Yarin! Where are you?"

"This is Garik! I have you in sight, Sergeant. You're 200 meters below me, and to my right. Four 'Mechs – three lights and a Wolverine– are making their way uphill about a hundred meters to your left. Do you read them?"

She scanned in that direction, and saw only boulders and drifting smoke. "No!"

"Better fall back before you're cut off.”

“Moving!"

She edged farther up the slope, the dry soil crumbling beneath the scraping claws of the Locust'sfeet. On either side, the ground was rising more sharply, creating a wide ravine that restricted movement and – worse – visibility. All three 'Mechs had to be in the first defensive line before their pursuers got there.

Another Waspstepped out from among the boulders, up the hill from her position, and between Lori and her friends. She didn't need to trigger the IFF for this one. It was scarcely 50 meters away, but its paint scheme was totally unfamiliar. The orange-black tiger stripe camouflage was designed for jungle warfare, and created a stark contrast with the greys and browns of the boulder field. Her shot caught the Waspby surprise, a clean hit on its right arm that sent the 'Mech spinning back to slam into a rock. Its arm and the laser it had held lay twisted and torn in the sand.

"Good shooting!" Lori didn't know whether that voice was Enzelman's or Yarin's. She fired again, missed, then saw a lone HEAP warhead catch the Waspsquarely in its back. The enemy pilot managed to stabilize his 'Mech, though, and turned to face Lori head-on. A pair of short-range missiles spat from twin launch tubes set on the 'Mech's left leg. They missed as Lori strode forward to 30 meters' range and fired her laser again. The beam savaged the Wasp'shead, leaving a twisted, smoking, half-molten ruin where the pilot had been sitting only a second before.

Lori didn't have time to gloat. Her external mikes were picking up the grinding thud of another approaching ‘Mech off to the right. She nudged the Locustinto an ungainly but brisk trot up the hill, anxious not to be cut off from the Rift again.

Lori's 'Mech crested the top of the rise. There, it opened into a broad ravine that angled across the hill face toward a steeper, more rugged slope with vertical cliffs of striated red and ocher rock. Beyond, cliffs that were only half visible from below opened wide. They soared above her on either side of the valley, which grew narrower as its walls continued to rise like a vertical gash across the face of the mountain.

She scuttled the Locustback among the boulders, and found a place with a good view of the slope below. Then, she lowered the 'Mech into a leg-folded crouch, with the hull less than two meters above the ground and the long snout of the laser cannon protruding from beneath the cockpit. On either side of her, several hundred meters off, she caught glimpses of the Waspand the Stingerlying prone among the rocks with their lasers extended. There was other movement here, too, as ground troops and hovercraft weapons carriers edged forward among the barricades, falls, and fire traps hidden across the ravine.

Lori's mind rapidly assessed their position. They'd knocked out two 'Mechs, both light scouts. That left ten, possibly eleven enemy 'Mechs. Ah... there! Two more scout 'Mechs, a Stingerand another Locust,advanced into the open at the bottom of the ravine. Behind them came two more, a Riflemanwith its odd, twin-barrelled arms, and the ponderous lurch of a 55-ton Griffin .

Lori bit down hard, triggering a com circuit. "Sergeant Ramage!"

"Here, Sergeant!"

"Are you ready?"

"All set, Sarge. Give the word."

Lori waited, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she studied the unfolding situation. Two more 'Mechs had appeared behind the first four. They were too distant for her to make them out by sight, but her battle computer tagged them as two more Wasps.The range to the nearest targets was just over half a kilometer. The attackers kept moving, struggling up the loose-packed slope, but moving quickly.

The Duke must really be anxious to catch us, Lori thought. She zoomed her telescopies in on the lead 'Mech, a Stingerwith a dull grey camou pattern and the black and red Kurita dragon bright against its chest. She had already spotted a pair of boulders designated as markers at the base of the ravine. Only a few meters farther...

"Okay, Sergeant! Now!"

Explosions drew a curtain of hurtling rock and black smoke across the entire breadth of the ravine. They lifted the enemy Stinger,and hurled it with a mighty push. Meanwhile, the ground rippled under the Locust,creating waves of dizziness in Lori through her neural helmet. The wall of debris collapsed on itself like the tumble of an ocean wave, raising lighter-colored dust, and revealing a second 'Mech, the Rifleman.It lay on its back with the twin barrels of its right arm wrenched apart and bent back upon themselves by the force of the blasts.

The other 'Mechs were in full retreat. It was only too bad that the explosion represented nearly all the Lancers' small supply of explosives.

Someone was yelling in her helmet phones, a rolling, unending litany of "We won! We won!"

"Silence on the commline!" Lori snapped. "They're just regrouping." She could see the movement of men and 'Mechs through the air clearing much farther down the slope, perhaps two kilometers away. By the way they were deploying across the ravine, she could tell they had no intention of returning to the port. The Lancers were in a good defensive position, but it would not take long for a determined push by overwhelming numbers to climb back up the ravine and overwhelm them.

"Come on Gray," she said with unexpected fervor. "Stow that antenna, and then get the hell up here."

She turned her eyes to a monitor that looked up the hill toward the vapor-wreathed opening of the Rift two kilometers behind her. Through her mikes, she could hear the muted thunder of its waterfall. Their three 'Mechs and the hovercraft defenders were rapidly running out of room to run.

31

Tor let the computer direct a last correcting burn that reduced the DropShip's closing speed to just over a meter per second. The freighter Invidiouswas large on the bridge screen images from aft, under the DropShip's tubes.

Like most JumpShips, the old freighter was built around the needle-slim dagger of a central drive core. Those clean lines were broken, however, by an unsightly clutter of cargo modules, the stubby, rounded prow of the pressurized crew section, the off-center bulge of the Invidious'second DropShip still strapped to the aft cargo compartment, and the menacing, misshapen blisters of the ship's meteor defense particle cannon and lasers. Tor's practiced eyes searched for signs of damage or incompetence, but found none. The stationkeeping drive appeared to be functioning, though the only sign of that was the LED traceries on the DropShip's console instruments registering a magnetic flux. All the same, he had calculated this path to keep the DropShip well clear of those particle streams, which, even at a thrust measured in thousandths of a G, could kill.

Aft, far aft of the freighter, the red disk of Trell now appeared as a crescent of light caught in a black circle that seemed to be devouring the star. It was an artificial eclipse, Tor knew, brought on by the Invidious'jump sail ten kilometers aft

There was a burst of field-induced static from the bridge speakers, and then a man's voice speaking. "DropShip on vector four-five, reduce speed to point five meter per sec, over."

Tor touched a button, fed a correction into his computer console. There was another, almost imperceptible nudge. "Complied, freighter."

He'd kept ship-to-ship chatter to an absolute minimum on the approach for fear of giving something away. So far there had been no challenge, no order to change course or kill vector. The freighter's deck watch must be satisfied with the DropShip's IFF broadcast

The last sliver of Trell sun was swallowed by the black jump sail, and the DropShip plunged into shadow. The hull of the freighter was only a few hundred meters distant now, masked in shadow, but outlined by the glimmer and steady-paced blinks of acquisition and running lights. A green beacon pulsed at the screen's crosshair-marked center, where docking latches were blossoming open to receive the DropShip stern to.

Tor touched a console key, and a flashing red light appeared on the screen well off to one side, against the backdrop of stars. That was the Kurita warship's location, 12,000 kilometers away. There was still no transmission, no indication that anyone suspected anything was wrong.

He opened the ship's intercom. "All hands... stand by. I'm going to tell them who we are."

The freighter normally carried a crew of fifteen. Three of the original crew had gone with Tor to Trellwan and died there. The memory was still an anguish of guilt in Tor. He did not know how many of the remaining twelve of his crew were still alive aboard the Invidious,though it was unlikely – or so he prayed – that so many trained starship hands would be casually wasted.

A bigger question was how many guards might be standing watch over the ship. Tor couldn't even guess at that, though conditions would be pretty cramped with more than ten or twelve passengers.

He glanced at the screen, which was recording time. It read 55 hours, 30 minutes exactly, with the seconds flickering away to the right of those numbers.

There were a number of ways to attack a JumpShip in space. If it was unsupported, there were several positions a DropShip could take that would threaten the vessel – aft of the jump sail, for example, or close forward of the stationkeeping drives, assuming the defensive weapons had been neutralized.

If the DropShip opened fire on the Invidious'weapons blisters, the Unionwarship would detect the radiations and investigate. If the freighter suffered any damage at all – perhaps a torn sail or an explosion in a weapons pod – the warship would investigate. Or, at the very least, it would try to raise the freighter on a ship-to-ship frequency to find out what was happening.

Tor had been prepared to try such an attack if their approach had been discovered, but his primary plan was still on schedule so far. He knew that one or more of the ship's officers would meet them at the docking lock. If he and his men moved fast enough, they might be able to storm the ship and take it before the Invidious'deck watch could get off a yell for help.

Might. If the watch officer was awake and on the ball, he would have at least enough time to get a message off to Trellwan. The warship might pick up a general, nondirectional broadcast, but unless the two ships were in active communication, with the frequency open, it was more likely that the warship wouldn't pick up the message.

It would take only a little over five and a half minutes for a beamed message to reach the spaceport's ground antenna at Trellwan. From there, a message would instantly go out to the warship, which would be alerted within the five and a half minutes it took a radio signal to travel back from Trellwan to the jump point. That was the greatest danger, and only the Lancers' attack on the spaceport antenna offered a way around iL

Then again, if the Duke had discovered the deception with the computer manifest, Tor might be met by a squad of marines with drawn guns.

The computer made a last-minute correctional burn. The DropShip's bridge rang with the clear bell tones and rattling thumps of magnetic grapples swinging home, of docking flanges clamping down to secure the vessel to its berth on the freighter's hull.

"Docked," he announced over the intercom. "Stand by, boarding party, main ship lock!"

The next few seconds would spell failure or success.

* * * *

As soon as Lori's coded message had reached him, Grayson brought the hidden Shadow Hawkto its feet and began moving along the wadi. He was headed toward a place where the bank had partly collapsed, offering a natural ramp up and out of the gully and onto the flat ground southwest of the port. The port itself was still masked by smoke, but the ground com antenna stabbed up out of the haze two kilometers away. Other shapes were gradually becoming clear – the squat saucer of the control tower, the four parallel rows of liquid hydrogen tanks farther to the east, the grey shapes of the grounded Combine DropShips.

And 'Mechs. Grayson was getting moving radar images of at least eight of them, though the continuing ECM jamming was scrambling his images and making it impossible to get a hard fix. All the 'Mechs seemed to be moving toward the north end of the field, and none were closer than two kilometers away. From the look of things, the plan seemed to be working.

A light haze of smoke was drifting across the southwestern perimeter, dispersing before a light northerly breeze. The Shadow Hawkreached the chainlink fence at the port perimeter, and stepped over it to the ferrocrete apron. A hovercraft weapons carrier whined through the smoke a half-kilometer ahead, heading north, but it ignored Grayson.

He'd been counting on that. Though the Duke's men knew all too well that Grayson had made off with their captured Shadow Hawktwo days before, there was still a company of 'Mechs in the area. Any casual observer would most likely assume that the battle-scarred machine moving across the southern edge of the port was friendly. The field officers who would know differently would be at the Castle monitoring combat communications, or in the field piloting their 'Mechs and with other business on their minds.

The sounds of continued combat drifted down the rising ground to the north. If the Lancers' three 'Mechs could hold out just long enough for him to destroy the antenna, he could join them by attacking the Combine forces from behind. With surprise and confusion, they might all be able to pull back into the Rift and disengage from the enemy.

After that, the Lancers would have to make their way through Thunder Rift to a prearranged landing site on the shores of the Grimheld Sea. If Tor was able to recapture the Invidious,one of the freighter's DropShips would meet them at a beacon they planned to set two standard days from now. They would have to abandon their 'Mechs to make the passage through the Rift, because the waterfall had begun in earnest now, making any passage by water impossible. In case of his death, Grayson had hand-drawn maps to help them pick their way through noise-blasted paths to the north opening, then down through rugged terrain to the Sea.

Once aboard the DropShip, they could make their way to the Invidious,and from there to the nearest Commonwealth outpost Grayson could find. Those of the Lancers who wished to remain could survive for 30 standard days on the supplies the DropShip would leave them, then make their way by hovercraft back to Sarghad as soon as it was dark again.

And there they would wait, with the promise that Grayson would return again with a Commonwealth force large enough to smash the Combine invaders.

Grayson tore his mind away from the plan. Looking at it overall, he saw too many assumptions and premises and outright guesses, and too many little details that could so easily go wrong. He remembered another of Kai Griffith's maxims. "If something can go wrong," the Weapons Master had said, "it will. Keep your planning simple, because the plan's certain to get a lot more complicated in practice than you thought it'd be."

Grayson didn't see how he could have simplified it any further. With so few 'Mechs against so many, only a complex plan gave him the options and flexibility he needed.

He triggered a switch marked HUD on his console, and the green targeting bullseye and characters of his heads-up display snapped on at eye level. He centered the antenna mast in the target circle, and read the range as 850 meters. Then he made a weapons check. The autocannon was still at rest, but fully loaded and ready to be brought into action. His forearm medium laser was charged and ready, and the missile launchers – a battery of LRMs set into the 'Mech's left torso and a pair of twin-tube SRMs mounted on either side of its head – were on line, loaded, and showed a display of green lights on his weapons board.