Blood of heroes

by Andrew Keith

  He was aware of the chain of command, but the Legion's freewheeling style didn't generally make much of an issue out of it . . . except, obviously, in Dumont's outfit.

  "I regret any appearance of impropriety, Captain," Alex went on, choosing his words with care. "However, I'd appreciate it, in turn, if you'd keep in mind the need for flexibility in this operation. I won't always be able to consult with you on every decision I make." He cut the channel before the battalion commander had a chance to reply. Then he keyed the commlink again, switching to the channel reserved for the technical staff and breaking in on a conversation between one of the crew chiefs and the battalion's senior technician, Captain Almonte. "Status report," he said when the tech was on the line.

  "Eight 'Mechs on-line, Colonel," Almonte told him. "The four recon 'Mechs, two from the fire lance, and the two belonging to you and Cadet ... er, MechWarrior DeVries. The rest of the fire lance will be ready to go in another five minutes."

  "And the ETA for the whole unit?"

  "Twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes," the technician said. "Less if we don't run into any problems. We've been lucky till now, so I'm not going to count on it. There's always at least one problem ..."

  "All right, keep at it. Concentrate on speed. If you hit a snag, go to the next 'Mech and leave the hard stuff for last."

  "Yes, sir," Almonte said. After the exchange with Dumont, it felt good to be dealing with someone who didn't sound as if he had an outsized chip on his shoulder.

  Alex called up the tactical map. The feed from Montclair's infantrymen showed the four enemy 'Mechs within a kilometer of the Bridge of Benmor, and that was uncomfortably close to the legionnaires. Something had to be done about them before they became a major threat.

  But Alex was even more concerned, right now, over the things that didn't show up on the battle map. None of the Gray Death infantry was in a position to overlook Sheolport any longer, and the marching lines of ridges concealed whatever his opposite number might be doing out there. They'd spotted two Union Class DropShips and a Leopard on the ground, enough to carry a short battalion of 'Mechs. That wasn't quite twice what Alex had with him, but enough to make the odds damned uneven. Particularly since Vargas and his four fighters, though scrambled and ready to come to Alex's assistance, were no match for the enemy air cover.

  They couldn't afford to let the enemy threat develop further. The Legion had to strike quickly, but first they needed to know just what they were up against.

  How had Murphy referred to it? Time to go walkabout, to scout out the enemy instead of staying here and letting the bad guys seize the initiative . . .

  He switched to the general commlink channel. "This is Ghost Leader to all units. New orders. Lieutenant Murphy, prepare to move out on my command. Lieutenant Obote will move the fire lance up to relieve the recon lance at the head of the pass. Ghost Lance and Dingo Lance are going out to probe toward Loch Sheol and see if we can deal with those enemy scouts. Captain Dumont, you will take command here, deploy all available BattleMechs, and take whatever defensive measures you consider necessary to secure the unit until the reconnaissance is completed. Captain Montclair's force to draw back to support the 'Mechs here. Any questions?"

  There were none. Alex breathed out a small sigh. If McCall had been there, he probably would have argued against Ghost Lance participating in the recon effort, but Dumont was probably glad to have his inexperienced CO out of his hair for a while. He suppressed a twinge of guilt at the thought of McCall's likely reaction. Alex needed firsthand information on the enemy before he could plan the next move. And there was also the question of how reliable Dingo Jack Murphy was likely to be if given too free a rein.

  But at the core of it, he knew that his real reason for going in was his reluctance to send the recon 'Mechs into unknown danger while he stayed back in safety and waited while his men started dying again.

  * * *

  MechWarrior Feldwebel Hermann Franke paused his Wolverine and checked his long-range sensor array. According to the aerial recon reports, there were enemy Gray Death BattleMechs beginning to deploy along the high ground of the Benmor Pass fifteen hundred meters to the south, but his readings were inconclusive. The high metal content of these mountains obscured the magnetic anomaly detectors, while the high atmospheric temperatures that prevailed in these volcanic uplands brought infrared scanners to the verge of electronic nervous breakdown. And without MAD or IR to go on, even a hulking metal monster like a BattleMech was damned hard to spot if it didn't want to be seen.

  "What's the matter, Sarge?" MechWarrior Ryser asked. Her Cicada was on the left flank of the loose, diamond-shaped patrol formation, with her teammate's Whitworth off to the right. Franke had taken the point position himself for this patrol, leaving MechWarrior Jaten and his Dervish to bring up the rear and provide fire support if they ran into trouble.

  So far, all they'd spotted were a couple of parties of infantry hastily falling back toward the pass, plus a fast-moving Saracen hovertank that had skittered away out of range before the 'Mechs could target it. He had expected a more active resistance from the vaunted Gray Death Legion, and the fact that it hadn't materialized yet was starting to make him edgy.

  "Just a feeling, Ryser," he said. "Look, increase dispersion by fifty percent. Ryser, I want you to advance to the crest of the hill off to your ten . . . Hill Two-one-five, according to the map. You should have a pretty good view of the river valley and the two bridges from there. If those mercenaries are planning to fight at all, they'll be covering the bridges so that their troops can cross over the gorge there." He paused. "But for Blake's sake be careful. If they've got heavy stuff— LRMs or PPCs—at the mouth of Benmor Pass, you'll be in range. So be ready to fall back if you come under fire."

  "Don't worry 'bout me, Sarge," Ryser told him, sounding cheerful.

  Franke would have liked to feel as nonchalant as she sounded.

  * * *

  "Colonel Carlyle, I can see those four 'Mechs now. Another couple of minutes and they'll be in sight of the bridges."

  Sitting in Benmor Pass in the cockpit of his Archer, Alex acknowledged Lieutenant Elphinstone's signal. Her platoon was drawn up on the slopes of Ben Mor west of the mouth of the pass and high enough to command a good view of the road from the bridges all the way to the outskirts of Loch Sheol, though the port was hidden by intervening high ground.

  He hesitated for an instant. The enemy 'Mechs were closer than he'd thought, and that put everything at risk. If they decided to destroy the road where it spanned the Sheol River, it would almost certainly render a Legion attack impossible. The river wound through a steep-banked gorge nearly forty meters deep where the road and maglev bridges crossed, and neither infantry, hovertanks, or 'Mechs without jump jets would be able to cross. A battle here could prove disastrous.

  But it was still possible to change the equation, provided he acted in time.

  "Murphy," he ordered urgently. "I want you and Bodnar to use your jump jets to drop down into the river. Stay tight against the north bank to avoid being seen, and make your way along the river to a point behind the enemy column . . . say, five hundred meters downstream. Royale, Lovell, you two are with me." He hesitated. "You too, Caitlin."

  Like his Archer and Caitlin's Centurion, neither Royale's Commando nor Lovell's Raven were equipped with jump jets. With the river as cover the other two could maneuver without being spotted, but the less mobile 'Mechs would have to play the role of bait in the interim.

  Alex shifted to a flat-out run and thundered across the bridge, with the Raven and Caitlin's 'Mech close behind and Royale bringing up the rear in the tiny Commando. Once across, he veered sharply to the left. His rear monitors showed Murphy and Bodnar descending into the gorge, out of sight.

  They had just to hope none of the enemy fighters came in close enough to spot them from above.

  "Ghost Leader calling Dragonslayer," Alex said, switching commlink channels. "Vargas, I need a diversion that'll keep the
ir fighters busy for a minute or two. Can do?"

  "Can do, Colonel." the squadron leader acknowledged without hesitation. "Let's see how serious they are about keeping us out of the DZ."

  Four remaining fighters matched up against twelve or more Free Skye craft, odds that made Alex shudder. This time Vargas wouldn't be able to count on the elements of surprise and confusion that had netted him all those shoot-downs over Dunkeld.

  "Enemy in sight," Mech Warrior Royale warned.

  Alex glanced at his screens, saw the Cicada clambering into view on a hill a few hundred meters north and on the other side of the road. "I've got him. Lovell, it's time to give them a little symphony, don't you think?"

  He could almost hear the anticipation in the man's voice. "Hope they like the music," Lovell said. "And a one, and a two . . ."

  The Raven was a scout 'Mech designed especially for electronic warfare. It carried sophisticated sensors and a wide range of special targeting systems, plus an array of jamming gear. Though no form of ECM could defy computer-driven redundancies and switching systems for very long, the Raven's ability to break down an opponent's command and control for a few crucial seconds could be a tremendous advantage in a firefight.

  Alex programmed his fire controls. "Let's let 'em know they're not welcome," he said, and tightened his finger on the firing stud of his joystick.

  His port-side LRM battery fired, sending a swarm of missiles arcing toward the exposed 'Mech on the hill. "Lovell, Royale, split up and take cover," he ordered, firing the starboard-side battery hard on the heels of the first volley.

  As the missiles began to fall around the Cicada, Alex broke into a run again and headed for the partial cover of one of the thick ferrocrete pylons that supported the maglev line. He was willing enough to risk damage there, if it would draw attention away from the bridge. Even if the Legion lost at Loch Sheol today, the invaders might finally make their own job more difficult if they ended up wrecking the maglev line, thus paralyzing their own logistics capacity.

  Explosions rippled all around the Cicada, but the pilot withdrew before Alex's BDA sensors could determine how much damage the strike might have done. That particular model wasn't very well-armored, and with luck those missile hits might have rendered the 'Mech useless or nearly so. He hoped so. This battle had to be short and sharp, over before any of the enemy's other assets on the area could come up and join the fight.

  "Here they come," Caitlin reported.

  Through a gap in the undulating terrain on either side of the road, Alex could pick out the loose skirmish line of 'Mechs moving forward at a trot. A Wolverine ... a Whitworth . . . and the Cicada, with a ragged hole in its right torso and. obvious internal damage, but still moving, and still potentially dangerous.

  And all three were heading straight toward the bridge, ignoring the Gray Death 'Mechs entirely.

  37

  Glengarry, Federated Commonwealth

  Skye March, Federated Commonwealth

  11 April 3056

  "I don't know! First the jamming cut in, and then I was under fire! I didn't see where it was coming from!"

  MechWarrior Feldwebel Franke cursed under his breath. Ryser's voice was ragged with static, but even the distortion caused by the Gray Death jammer couldn't hide the thin edge of panic. "Easy, Ryser," he said. "We know they've got positions up on the ridge. All we have to do is flush the bastards, then let Jaten work a little of his counterbattery magic on them."

  From their position near the Bridge of Benmor, the three 'Mechs left Jaten's Dervish behind, moving past the hill where Ryser had come under fire. Franke felt every nerve, every muscle going taut within him. It was times like this, when the enemy's positions were close by but unknown and with no way to predict how much firepower might rain down at any moment that a MechWarrior often regretted his choice of career. These metal mountains, heavily armed and armored, might be the kings of the battlefield in a stand-up fight, but in a situation like this they felt more like incredibly slow, incredibly large and lumbering targets just begging to be smashed by incoming fire.

  "Full speed!" he shouted. "Run for the bridge!" That was the best way to draw a reaction. Once the scout 'Mechs were over that bridge, they'd be able to take advantage of the rugged mountain slopes beyond, and jump jets and high maneuverability would compensate for superior enemy numbers until they could pinpoint their opponents' dispositions and call in support from the Dervish or the covering fighters.

  It would be the best way to draw a reaction, but also the best way to commit suicide, if they didn't move fast.

  "Damn!" Alex spat out. "Lovell, Royale, attack now! We've got to divert the bastards!" His whole strategy was falling apart. "Caitlin, circle left in case their fourth 'Mech is coming in over that ridge on the other side of the maglev line!"

  He stepped out from the cover of the pylon near the Bridge of Benmor and lined up his shot, aiming for the Whitworth this time. The enemy 'Mech was slow, but well-armed and equipped with jump jets, and in this kind of fight probably the most dangerous 'Mech out there.

  As Alex hit the firing studs on each side of his joystick simultaneously, both LRM launchers roared as one.

  "Incoming! Incoming!" Feldwebel Franke shouted as his sensors picked up the missiles arcing in from the right flank. "God damn, those mercs are already across the river!"

  He wrenched the Wolverine to the right, nearly losing the 'Mech's footing on the slick surface of the road. A Raven, its elongated cockpit giving it the beaklike head of its namesake, sprinted from cover with both arm-mounted lasers firing. One beam caught his lower leg, but didn't penetrate the armor. Franke triggered his jump jets for a sideways leap, unloading a full autocannon ammo cassette as he landed. Shells tore into the Raven's stubby left arm.

  "I'm hit! Christ, Sarge, I'm—"

  MechWarrior Anuskiewicz never finished his last transmission. Missile after missile had slammed into the right torso of the Whitworth, blowing away armor in huge chunks and exposing the skeletal internal structure underneath. Then a new wave of explosions rocked the 'Mech, the fury of the attack detonating LRM warheads still in their loading rack. The Whitworth swayed for a moment, then collapsed in a heap of useless, twisted metal and half-melted plastic.

  * * *

  Alex Carlyle barely noticed the effect of his fire on the Whitworth as he shifted his targeting cross hairs toward the Wolverine that had shattered Lovell's starboard laser, but the voices on the commlink were quick to respond.

  "That's one for the Colonel!" Mech Warrior Royale whooped. "Give 'em hell, Legion!"

  Royale's little Commando raced across the open terrain between the maglev line and the road, trying to close the range with the damaged Cicada before the enemy pilots could recover from the sudden onslaught. But at that moment a cloud of missiles arced over the hills from the north, and the MechWarrior's shouts turned suddenly to a wordless cry of fear and pain. Another wave of missiles fell on the Commando, and this time multiple warheads slammed repeatedly into the cockpit.

  Mech Warrior Winston Royale never ejected.

  Alex swallowed sour bile and fired on the Wolverine, but the fast-moving 'Mech was already bounding backward on flaming jump jets. His missiles didn't even come close. He muttered a curse and started to set up the targeting program again.

  A warning alarm shrilled. Alex glanced at his status board, saw the traces on the tactical monitor that showed incoming missiles targeted on his Archer. He took a few steps forward, but too late to clear the target zone. The first two warheads were near misses, the force of their explosions making the Archer stagger as he fought for control, barely keeping the 'Mech upright to the sound of whining, overloaded gyros.

  Then a missile slammed into the Archer's left arm. The blast only scored the armor plating above the elbow joint, but the force of it shook Alex up. He lost track of the rest of the strikes, but at least three more struck the 'Mech.

  And as abruptly as it had started, the barrage was over. Alex shook his he
ad to clear the ringing in his ears, then wished he hadn't. Through a haze of pain and disorientation, he squinted at the damage board. There were no red lights, but his comm board was showing an amber warning signal that indicated partial failure of the commlink systems, and he'd lost a lot of armor from the damaged arm. A few more bombardments like that one would send him down the same grim road Royale had just traveled.

  Still groggy, it took him a long moment to recognize the motion outside his cockpit as the Steiner Wolverine, now bounding toward him on its jump jets, ready to take advantage of his weakness . . .

  "Alex! Alex! Ghost Leader, respond!" Caidin DeVries almost screamed into the commlink mike. Her rear monitors had caught the missile attack on the Archer, and though the hulking BattleMech didn't seem too badly damaged, it was neither moving nor firing, and Alex wasn't answering . . .

  She hesitated. Her Centurion was near the crest of the ridge Carlyle had ordered her to cover. According to the computer's counterbattery tracking function, she'd have a clear shot to engage whatever was firing those missiles once she reached the top.

  But Royale's Commando was gone, and the Raven was damaged. And neither of those light 'Mechs would be much good supporting Alex Carlyle against the Cicada and the Wolverine working together.

  Another volley of missiles arced straight overhead. If somebody didn't do something about the LRM battery on the other side of the ridge, Alex wouldn't have a chance anyway.

  Grim-faced, Caitlin DeVries continued climbing.

  * * *

  Alex Carlyle forced himself to shake free of the lassitude that had gripped him since the first missile attack. More LRMs were coming in, but their targeting was off this time and they hit fifty meters beyond his position, kicking up dust and debris with each impact. Sluggishly at first, but then with increasing confidence, he backpedaled slowly over the uneven ground and tried to line up his targeting reticule on the fast-moving Wolverine. Trading his missile batteries for the Archer's two arm-mounted lasers, he opened fire just as the enemy 'Mech was finishing a jump, catching the enemy squarely in the center torso with both pulses.