Minobu almost laughed at his protege's renewed use of the honorific. “This is hardly the time to let your rebellious streak show.”
“There may not be another time.”
Minobu's amusement evaporated. “Then you feel it, too. That this will be the last battle.”
“Hai, sensei.”
There seemed little to say.
“Fight well,” he enjoined Michi.
“I am samurai, sensei. It goes without saying.”
Michi's words pleased Minobu. The young man's inner strength had grown. He was no longer the unformed boy whom Minobu had taken on as an aide. Minobu reached out to touch the other man's shoulder. Looking down into Michi's dark eyes, he said, “I hope that each of my sons will grow to be as honorable a samurai, Michi Noketsuna.”
“Your sons should follow in your footsteps rather than mine, sensei. It is a path of great honor.”
Minobu restrained his emotion. “Enough, my young friend,” he said, dropping his hand. “There is a battle to fight and your place is out there. Go now.”
Michi bowed, deeply and respectfully. Minobu returned the bow, with proper consideration to his own superior rank.
Michi bowed again before pivoting on his heel and vanishing into the heatlock.
When next Minobu saw him, Michi was an anonymous figure under the bulk of cold-weather gear and goggled breath mask. Minobu watched through the transplex as Michi braced against the wind, heading for his 'Mech.
Like all the Kurita 'Mechs, the red Ostroc was battered, and the hasty repairs necessary to keep it fighting showed in patches of armor coated only with dark antirust sealant. Battle and the harsh climate of Misery were taking their toll. It was small comfort to learn from the scout report that, even with their superb technical staff, the Dragoons were showing the strain as well. A month of constant skirmishes and several pitched battles had worn them all down. Neither side would be able to endure the pressure much longer.
Things might have been different if Samsonov hadn't deserted them. Twice after the disastrous first battle, Minobu had maneuvered Wolf into committing his whole force. Twice the signal for Samsonov's attack had gone out. Twice the Warlord's regiments had not arrived, and Minobu's command had barely extricated themselves before being overwhelmed.
The first time might have been an accident, a missed signal. The second left no room for doubt. The Warlord had betrayed them, abandoned them to the mercy of the Dragoons. More, Samsonov had betrayed House Kurita. The Draconis Combine could ill afford the damage the Dragoons were inflicting. Even if the Dragoons were finally put down, the cost had run too high.
Samsonov would not be allowed to escape justice this time, as he had after Galtor. There could be no pardon from the Coordinator. The crime was too blatant, Samsonov's hand in it too visible.
But that did not improve the current situation. Minobu was still bound to follow the Coordinator's orders, still committed to destroying the Dragoons. When Samsonov did not arrive with additional troops, Minobu had no choice but to make do with what he had.
Now, for the first time in weeks of struggle, there seemed to be a hope of achieving that end. Many of the 'Mechs taken out during the trap at Opdal Glacial Fields were back in the line, having been repaired with parts from other machines crippled in subsequent battles. The Kuritans were stronger than they had been since that terrible day on the glacier. Even so, this was a last gasp, their final chance at an offensive action against the Dragoons.
Wolf's main body had been maneuvered into position. Minobu's own forces were also in place, awaiting word from the Eighth Sword of Light, who should have reached their jump-off points two hours ago. Any minute now, Minobu thought, they would signal that they had begun their assault.
As if on cue, a commtech approached. He bowed deferentially and presented a message flimsy. “From Sho-sho Torisobo, Eighth Sword of Light, sir.”
Minobu ignored the outstretched hand and its paper. “What does he have to say?”
“He reports success, sir. The Dragoons are moving down onto the plain. He reports all is proceeding according to plan.”
According to plan. Such a simple phrase for something so complicated. If Torisobo's message was accurate, the Dragoons, surprised by the Sworders' assault, would be moving in front of the Ryuken and the Galedon Regulars' hidden positions. Unaware of their enemy, the Dragoons would be exposing their flank. In the usual morning snow-storm, visibility would be low. The Dragoons would move close without realizing their danger, and short-range fire would devastate their ranks. The Kuritans would be among them in the first rush. The battle would be brutal, but it would reduce the Dragoons' advantage of trained gunners, giving the Draconis forces a chance to win.
Minobu had placed all of his hopes on that slim chance.
There had been no brushes with Dragoon reconnaissance for two days. He was sure that his forces had reached their positions undetected by enemy scouts. Surely the plan would succeed. Why then, he wondered, did he feel this tremendous sense of impending disaster?
Brooding would do no good, he decided. With the Dragoons on the move, his place was in the commcenter, where he could coordinate the Draconis forces. His step was firm as he walked the corridor to the center.
The first unit he checked was his own former command, the Ryuken-ni”. It took some time, but he got Chu-sa Earnst on the hard line that kept the Dragoons from intercepting Ryuken communications. The Chu-sa's voice was confident.
“The morning snow has arrived as scheduled, Tai-sho. Visibility is less than fifty meters most of the time. No sign of ... wait.” The empty line hissed slightly. Earnst was back in a few seconds. “I see ... yes, they are ... BattleMechs, Tai-sho. The Dragoons are walking into our trap this time.”
“Commence the attack at your discretion, Chu-sa. Make it count,” Minobu urged.
“Understood, Tai-sho. We'll ...”
Earnst's words dissolved into static.
Minobu knew that the hard line they were using would not turn to static unless it had been cut.
Something had gone wrong.
“Break radio silence,” he ordered the commtechs. Communication with his officers was now vital. “I want all commanders in the net.”
The commtechs looked up, surprised by the vehemence in his voice.
“Move, sluggards! Open the net right now!”
The commtechs reported heavy traffic on the net. It took them several minutes to override and break in. “Ryuken-ni,” one announced as a voice came up on the speaker.
“Negative! Negative! Fire forward!”
“Where is Chu-sa Earnst?” Minobu demanded.
“His 'Mech is down. We've lost contact with him.” The voice had taken on an hysterical edge.
“Calm down! This is Tai-sho Tetsuhara. To whom am I speaking?”
The authority in Minobu's voice seemed to reach the man on the other end. He gobbled a couple of times before responding in a slightly steadier voice, “Chu-i Benedict Kerasu, sir.”
“Report, Chu-i.”
“It's the Dragoons, sir. They aren't fleeing. They're heading straight in on us, attacking. I don't know how, but they know our position. We haven't fooled them.” The hysteria returned to his voice. “We're being slaughtered! We're being overrun! There are Dragoon 'Mechs everywhere!”
The transmission broke up.
“Get him back,” Minobu ordered brusquely.
After several tries, the commtech reported, “Enemy jamming is blanketing Ryuken-ni's position. We can't punch through.”
“Keep trying.”
While Minobu was trying to get sense out of the distraught Chu-i, his staff had been laboring feverishly to sort through the garbled reports from the front and to update the situation map in the holotank. The link to Kerasu lost, Minobu turned to inspect their labors.
“It is very bad, Tai-sho,” Saraguchi announced. “We have break-throughs throughout the center. All Ryuken Regiments are reporting heavy Dragoon assaults. Twenty-First G
aledon is completely out of touch.”
“What about Seventeenth Galedon?”
“They report their sector quiet.”
“Well, we can't afford to let them sit idle. Have them move to back up Ryuken-go. If we can stabilize that flank, it may give Sword of Light time to come to our relief again.”
Minobu didn't really think that was likely. Things had gone too far.
He spent the next two hours ordering shifts in the Kurita dispositions. Each time he thought he had gotten a unit across the enemy line of advance, a Dragoon unit would show up on the flank or in the rear, rendering the new position untenable. It was as though Wolf were reading his mind. The Dragoon assault began to seem unstoppable.
Suddenly, the command post shook with the violence of a nearby explosion. Around him, men pitched to the floor. Beating a constant tattoo under the sound of missile detonations came the familiar vibrations of high-speed 'Mech movement. Explosive thunder echoed hollowly within the walls of the center.
A nearby salvo ripped a hole in the commcenter's back wall, and the blast floored everyone in the room. When he had regained his feet, Minobu rushed to the hole, hurtling over the shattered remains of the holotank. Heedless of the frigid wind, he stared out at the BattleMechs assaulting the compound. At their head was a blue and gold Archer.
A Kurita Panther appeared from nowhere to contest the passage of the Dragoon 'Mech. The Archer bore down on the defender, crashing its full seventy-ton mass into the lighter 'Mech. The Panther's PPC flared, a puny beacon against the gathering storm clouds. The Archer smashed the Panther with its right arm, toppling the Kurita 'Mech, which crashed into a workshed and out of sight.
The Archer strode into the main compound as though it were master of the place. Following behind, its lancemates continued to pour destruction on the compound. The Archer loomed over Minobu and halted. Its next step would have taken it into the flimsy prefabricated structure that was Minobu's headquarters.
Time seemed to stop.
Man faced machine; neither moved.
Minobu, tiny against the 'Mech's mass, looked up, searching for a glimpse of the pilot behind the cockpit screen of the silent BattleMech.
The 'Mech suddenly rocked under triple explosions on its left shoulder. White-hot fragments of ceramet showered down, forcing Minobu to take cover within the hut.
The Archer pivoted and ripped off a volley from its undamaged right-shoulder launcher. The rockets screamed wide of their intended victim, which was too close for the Dragoon ‘MechWarrior to target effectively in the little time he had. Laserfire scorched the air around the Dragoon 'Mech, and several pulses caught it cleanly.
Damaged, but still far from imperiled, the Archer backed up. The Dragoons were outnumbered by the sudden appearance of two Kurita lances of heavy and medium BattleMechs. They moved into a mutually supporting formation and withdrew from the compound.
Minobu risked a glance outside the hut to learn who were these new arrivals. The red Ostroc in the lead was very familiar.
54
Trolfjel Highlands, Misery
Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine
20 May 3028
The effect of Michi's rescue was short-lived. In minutes, Dragoon 'Mechs renewed the attack on the command center. The blue and gold Archer was not among them.
A quick look at the shambles in the hut's interior and the smoking wreck of the holotank told Minobu that there was little point in remaining. He scrambled across the field to his Dragon. Michi's ‘MechWarriors provided cover while he climbed aboard and powered up. Secured and ready, he opened the taccomm.
“Form on me. We will try to punch through to join the bulk of Ryuken-go.”
“What good'll that do?” asked an unfamiliar voice.
“Little. But we should then have enough force to fight our way to the bunker line. Once there, we should be able to hold till the Dragoons tire.”
The Dragon began to move as Minobu spoke. It lumbered past Michi's Ostroc, picking up speed. Half a dozen Kurita 'Mechs fell in behind it as Michi ordered them into a loose wedge formation.
Fire from the attacking Dragoons was light at first, for only one or two of the pilots had seen the Kurita machines start out. As soon as the Dragoon commander got word of the Kuritans' movements, however, he ordered a shift in his line of attack. BattleMechs that had been pounding the facilities of the command center moved to intercept the Kurita machines. In the sharp firelight that followed, the Kuritans lost half their number. Five of the Dragoons' own 'Mechs were smoking when their commander pulled back and let his opponent go. Only desultory long-range fire followed the Kuritans as they headed away from the command center. The morning storm finally closed in, and swirling snow hid them from view of the marauding Dragoons.
As soon as it seemed safe, Minobu ordered a standard cooling halt, which would not take long in Misery's chill climate. He really wanted to take stock of the condition of his troops and to attempt contact with Sederasu at Ryuken-go.
Minobu's Dragon had seen less action than those he had joined. Though his 'Mech had come through the skirmish with relatively light damage, he had already used up a fourth of his autocannon ammunition. He knew that the others had to be even worse off.
He looked around at what had become, by default, his Command Lance.
Michi's red Ostroc was the heaviest of the other 'Mechs, and it had suffered more damage in the last fight. The housing for one of the Fuersturm lasers dangled from its chest, shattered. Michi reported all other weapon systems functional, but did not mention the 'Mech's left arm, which hung loose and dysfunctional. Daylight showed through much of the shoulder assembly.
The next heaviest 'Mech was a Panther. Steam leaked from a gash in the side of its cockpit. The shredded and warped armor plates distorted the shape of the head, changing it from a hunting cat's snarl to a leering, half-decayed skull. The pilot said that he was experiencing excessive heat buildup, but that otherwise his 'Mech was functional.
The fourth of the Kurita 'Mechs was a heavily scarred Jenner. Its non-humanoid shape showed fresh damage almost everywhere. The only thing that seemed intact was the pilot's armored dome, which sat on the boom projecting from the base of the body. The ‘MechWarrior, incongruously cheerful, recited a list of ‘Mechanical failures and half-functional systems that left Minobu wondering how the machine had managed to get this far.
Survey of his tiny force complete, Minobu tried to contact Sederasu. The storm that hid them from pursuit also disrupted what little long-range communications the mountain peaks allowed. Minobu could not get through.
The commcenter was destroyed, disrupting Minobu's contact with his command. He had hoped to use the Tacticon computer and powerful communications equipment on board Sederasu's Cyclops as a substitute. If he could call together the scattered Draconian forces and lead them to the bunker line west of Hamar Valley, the Dragoon momentum might be broken, giving the Kuritans a chance to recover.
Minobu ordered his lance into motion. Each time they crested a rise or cleared the lee of a peak, Minobu tried to reach other friendly units, but the contacts were too brief or garbled to be of any use. Finally, the wind shifted, blowing back the covering curtain of snow. Minobu hoped that it signaled a break in their luck.
It did, but not in the way he wanted. Instead of giving the Kuritans a chance for communication, the storm's capricious shift brought them a company of Dragoons.
Without conscious thought, Minobu aimed and triggered his long-range missiles at the oncoming 'Mechs. The Dragon belched fire, but the enemy was already spreading out into an attack formation. His rockets roared past the leading pair, a white Griffin and a dark blue Shadow Hawk, and delivered their payloads to their target. Clouds of steam and smoke erupted around the shadowy shape of an Ostscout, which had been advancing cautiously in the trailing slot of the lead lance. The 'Mech staggered under the barrage and stumbled back, its upper torso savaged and one sensor arm amputated. The machine's sophisticated s
ensors had tracked the Kuritans, even through the blinding snow and the magnetic field distortions of the mountains. Guided by his ki, Minobu had canceled that advantage with his first shot. Now his troops had only to contend with the BattleMechs that outnumbered them three to one.
Surprise lost, the Dragoons opened fire. The Kuritans returned it.
Minobu concentrated his attacks on those enemies furthest away because his Dragon was the best equipped to engage those targets. Any Dragoon 'Mech that he could take out before it closed to its own effective range was one less enemy to hurt the lance. He trusted Michi and the others to deal with the remainder of the leading Dragoon lance.
Minobu slipped into mushin, thought and action becoming one. He was the Dragon and the 'Mech was the mighty Dragon of Kurita, breathing forth destruction on its enemies. He moved with a fluid grace, myomer pseudomuscles shifting his armor-clad body no more and no less than necessary to dodge enemy fire while setting up his own shots. The Dragon was deadly. Several of the lighter Dragoon machines collapsed or withdrew from combat.
Having exhausted its long-range missiles, the Dragon turned to the closer-ranged fight and found that the odds had not improved. The Jenner lay crumpled, its cockpit dome still strangely untouched. Of the Panther, only scattered pieces were to be seen. Michi's red Ostroc remained standing, locked in a hand-to-hand struggle with the Griffin.
A blast from the Ostroc's chest-mounted lasers sent the Griffin staggering back, one hand raised as though to shield the exposed inner structure from further damage. Its foot slipped and it went down heavily.
The 'Mech's fall gave its partner the opening the pilot had been awaiting. The staccato roar of the Shadow Hawk's autocannon drowned out the sound of its missiles launching.
The pilot was a good shot. The Ostroc shuddered as armor sprayed from its surface. Under the steady pounding, it jerked and shook.
The Dragon's own laser hit the Shadow Hawk, breaking the pilot's concentration. The Dragoon cut his fire and rolled to cover.
Wolves on the Border Page 37