“Tallyho!” he shouted, switching to another target.
“Get moving, Dorn. I just picked up something on long-range sensors. Let’s dust the rest of these and get out of here.”
Roderick watched as Kroff’s rear guard crossed the Auburn Bridge over the Zanzibe River. It had taken hours to get everything in place, especially since the operation had unfolded under the cover of night. Now they were on the same side of the river as the Duchy’s Regulars—and they were on the move.
“All right, Savage One. Let’s begin our move to the north and east.”
“Roger, Sword One,” Kroff confirmed. He could see her Violator outlined by the first rays of the dawn light. In silhouette, it was hard to see how damaged it was. Frost knew she had taken a lot of hits over the last few days—he’d seen all of the replacement armor plates. He was pleased that she’d kept her word: she hadn’t lost her ride since they’d landed.
He marched next to her at the front of the column. He felt grim satisfaction at the knowledge that the Duchy’s elite Regulars were going to be reeling in a matter of hours. He didn’t smile; the battle wasn’t won yet. He spared a moment of worry for Trillian. She was somewhere out there on the run, probably still hiding in Zanzibar. It had to be hellish, with the entire local population looking for you. He knew she was tough: as a child, she had beaten him at most games. But that was years ago, and this was not child’s play. The game was now much more dangerous.
Keep your head down, Trill. . . .
“Sir?”
He shook his head. Jeez, I said that out loud. “Nothing, Jamie. Just keep your units tight behind us.”
The raiding force was small and moved fast over the tops of the rolling hills. Trace was running the show, since his BattleMech was temporarily out of the fight. There were at least three other MechWarriors who could pilot his Stalker when it was ready to go, but at the moment, this force needed its CO’s leadership. There was no room to sit. Trace simply held on to the back of the driver’s seat.
His stomach pitched as the Maxim Mk. II transport pitched down the hill. He could see the Gnome troops in the back reflected in the console, squeezed in so tight that they couldn’t fall over despite the speed. Hovering only thirty meters overhead, he could hear the Cardinal and the MHI Crane transport VTOLs. There was a rhythm to the thumping of their rotors that seemed in synch with the butterflies in his stomach.
He leaned forward over the driver. “Range?”
“Two klicks and closing,” he said.
Trace Decker activated his microphone. “All troops prepare to debark,” he said. The massive armored troops gave no reply, though one gave him a thumbs-up. He nodded in acknowledgment.
“We have company,” the driver said. “I am picking up a Locust and a Stinger on the perimeter.”
“You know the plan,” Trace said.
The driver stretched his neck side to side. “I do,” he said into his throat mic. “That doesn’t mean I like it.” The Maxim thrummed louder as the driver throttled up the reactor and began a wide turn, aiming for the Stinger.
Trace braced himself. He turned on his mic one more time. “We’ve got Regulars on the border, two light BattleMechs. We’re going to do this just as we planned, so grab on to something—it’s about to get bumpy.”
As they crested the next hill, he saw the Stinger. It stood facing away from them, as if it hadn’t picked them up yet. If it hadn’t, it would in a moment. The driver of the Maxim II did exactly what he was supposed to; he aimed his hovercraft right at the Stinger and gave it full throttle. The VTOLs above him broke formation and headed toward the supply dump, but the Goblin transport followed the Maxim’s lead and headed for the Locust.
The Stinger twisted its head and seemed to look right at him. At their speed, though, Trace saw the head for only a second. Then the Maxim II slammed into the treelike legs of the Stinger, causing a horrible grinding noise—the sickening sound of ripping metal. Trace lurched forward into the seat back in front of him, his shoulders nearly wrenched out of their sockets.
There was a hiss and a rush of air and light from the rear of the transport as the doors opened. The Gnome troopers jumped out, weapons blazing away at the Stinger. The Maxim was badly damaged but still operational. It pulled back a meter, then moved past the Stinger’s legs. Trace could see the caved-in plating where the hovercraft had crushed the armor, exposing myomer bundles.
Trace heard the SRM launcher on the top of the transport fire its twin-pack of missiles. This battle was far from over, but it sure as hell got started with a bang.
The Duchy of Tamarind’s First Regulars Regiment was attempting to force its way across the Zanzibe River under withering fire from the tree line on the far bank. Roderick could see the troops of Saber Company blazing away from the far side of the river as Duchy ’Mechs rose out of the water. They were putting up a good fight; it was about to get better.
At the moment, the Regulars had no idea he was on their side of the river. They were about to learn the hard way. “Ready, Jamie? We rush to the river and assist Saber Company by cutting off their second wave.”
“Just give me the word, sir.”
He knew it was taking all her restraint to not rush in right now. Roderick watched a Duchy Raven II crumple as it came out of the water, caught in a broadside salvo. Now is as good a time as any. “Leutnant Kroff, go shatter that assault so we can link up with Saber Company.”
“Yes, sir!” She switched to a broadband channel. “Savage Company, form up on me. Head for the river and let’s cut these bastards in half!”
Roderick cleared the brush and fired at a passing Bellona tank. He caught it by surprise, hitting it in the thin rear armor plating. The autocannon rounds tore up the back of the hovercraft and several shells plowed into the rear-mounted large laser. Sparks flew from torn circuitry as the shocked driver pivoted to face the threat. At the same moment, a barrage from a Long Tom across the river rained down on top of it. The Bellona disappeared as the artillery rounds reshaped the landscape around it.
Kroff’s Violator had closed to point-blank range with a Regulars Shadowhawk. The Duchy BattleMech fired one laser blast, then turned to run. The sudden appearance of the attack force on their flank and rear shattered the unit’s resolve. Jamie was able to get in one sweeping attack with her anti-’Mech drill, shredding some of the armor on the arm of the Shadowhawk as it turned. The ’Mechs just entering the water turned to face the new threat. Some were caught in the cross fire from both sides of the river. Others followed the lead of the Shadowhawk and tried to flee.
Roderick watched an SM1 tank destroyer bank out over the river and head to the rear. Warrant Officer Dewery’s Firestarter blazed away with its massive flamethrowers, setting the hovertank on fire as it fled. It left a trail of burning ooze as it rose over the embankment and headed back toward Zanzibar.
Frost gritted his teeth. A platoon of Regular infantry dug in along the marshy land near the riverbank only held out for a few salvos before fleeing. The Duchy attack had been shattered. Now I need to find out, just how successful were we?
25
Upper Poughkeepsie
Danais, Marik-Stewart Commonwealth
6 December 3137
The pair of enemy Vultures emerged from the tree line, disgorged their wave of long-range missiles and faded back to the dense woods for cover. The hover infantry and the ATV support forces charged out from the road toward the enemy. It was a gallant move, but folly against two BattleMechs.
Marik missiles hit the two J-37 transports. The J-37 carried armor equal to several sheets of reinforced cardboard. They were not front-line combat vehicles, but were designed for transporting munitions and supplies to the front lines. The long-range missiles twisted in flight and slammed into the tracked transports. The explosions instantly ripped into the internal storage cells, and there was a resounding secondary blast from each vehicle.
As Duke Vedet arrived on the scene in his Atlas, he could see the treads
of the transports still in the mud, but the rest of the vehicles were gone, nothing remaining but a black blasted smear on the thick clay roadbed. He cursed, loud and fluently.
“I want those Vultures,” he said through gritted teeth.
“We’re on it, sir.” A Guards Hatchetman and Arbalest entered the dense growth from which the Vultures had suddenly appeared. The tree branches snapped back behind them, making them invisible in the thick forest growth. “I am getting new readings, sir. They apparently are moving along some road that is not on our maps. It’s going to be hard to get at them,” reported Hauptmann Klein.
“How in the hell did they get into our rear area, Hauptmann?” Vedet bellowed furiously.
“Unknown, sir. We did not know about that road. Even our fighters didn’t pick it up. The forest was supposed to be impenetrable. Our own probes into it supported that theory. I had a squad lost for over an hour in there. The enemy was able to stage this ambush because they had better information.”
One part of the duke’s mind noted that Klein had taken responsibility for his failure. But what was the price for that failure? He knew Klein’s family; he had funded him at the academy. Now Klein had failed him. He wanted to bust him in rank, verbally castigate the man—but doing so would end up hurting his own interests in the long run. Down the road, I’ll need men like him on my side. He kept the memory of the artillery attack that had taken down his Atlas fresh in his mind as a warning.
“We needed those supplies.” The duke left it at that.
“I understand, sir.”
The worst part of the whole cluster was the identity of the enemy forces. It was not the planetary militia, the Daredevils of Danais. No, this was a lance of the Silver Hawk Irregulars, possibly more than a lance. They had landed three days ago and had done nothing but snipe at the Hesperus Guards ever since.
Their first day on-planet, his Guards had seized the capital, Breckenridge, with only light resistance. It seemed like the assault on Danais was going to be easy. By nightfall, that impression had changed. The Daredevils and the Silver Hawks had struck, taking out a patrol lance. They came in company strength, three-to-one odds. Only one of his Guards survived, and he was badly injured, his BattleMech a shell. It was obvious he had been allowed to live to bring word of their defeat to Duke Vedet and to spread fear among the other Lyran troops.
It almost worked.
Breckenridge offered nothing they needed. For supplies, he was forced to have his infantry break into retail stores and take what they needed. The Marik-Stewart Commonwealth supporters had sabotaged every facility that could be used for repairs or rearming. It was obvious to Duke Vedet that the city had become flypaper for his Hesperus Guards—they had taken it, and now were stuck with it. It possessed no military value, and capturing it had not demoralized the resistance. In fact, it had become a rallying point for the rest of the population.
We need to retake the initiative here . . . but how? The duke briefly considered gathering his officers and asking their opinions. They were supposed to be the experts in warfare, but what had they accomplished? These so-called experts had let the Silver Hawk Irregulars slip from their grasp time and time again. He ignored his own contribution to events on Bondurant—that was Bernard’s failure, not his.
Duke Vedet quickly convinced himself that the military officers knew no more about fighting this war than he did. He could see that he needed to go after them in force, and to keep Breckenridge. If the Marik forces recaptured the city, it would turn the entire population actively against us. And I want those Silver Hawk Irregulars, once and for all.
To achieve both objectives he was going to need ample supplies for an offensive operation and some reserve troops. Two companies of Bernard’s troops had been placed in reserve for whichever commander needed them. Bernard wasn’t likely to need them on Tamarind. Roderick Frost would fight hard and lose, but in the process he was bound to badly injure the Tamarind defenders. Tamarind should be a simple mop-up operation.
The duke, on the other hand, needed those troops and supplies.
Two Days Later
The attack had come from a lone Spider. The fast-moving light ’Mech wore the silver and purple eagle of the Silver Hawk Irregulars. It had taken two well-aimed shots at the patrol, one of which hit the duke’s Atlas just below the cockpit.
They pursued it. The Spider broke off and burst into a full-speed run. Hauptmann Klein calmly suggested that they were bound to be heading into a trap. The duke wanted the Spider, so he ignored the warning, even though he knew Klein was probably right. His only response was, “Look sharp, everyone.”
The road ended on the shore of a small blue-green lake surrounded by pine forest. The moment he saw the lake, he gave the order to halt. The Spider continued along the shoreline to the far side. Duke Vedet stopped his column on the narrow forest road, embraced by the shade of the massive pine trees that made even the BattleMechs appear small.
“The lake,” he warned.
“I’m not picking up anything on MAD other than the Spider on the far side,” Leutnant Schnell replied cautiously, almost whispering. “We should be able to pick up ’Mech reactors even if they are hiding underwater.”
Hauptmann Klein cut in. “Sir, we should get off this road, move along the flank. For now, let that Spider go.”
The duke paused. “Fine—damn it! Everyone, move into the forest to the east side of the road.”
The line of BattleMechs stepped off to the side of the road and walked up over the shallow embankment, where they stood on a sea of dead brown pine needles. The forest spread densely in every direction. The low branches were dead; the massive pines opened like umbrellas just at the top height of the BattleMechs.
“Move out quickly. Watch your sensors,” the duke commanded. The four BattleMechs fanned out. On long-range sensors he could still pick up the Spider. It seemed to be still moving in the same direction, out of visual range, out of weapons reach. It was still out there, though, one light BattleMech against four assault-class ’Mechs. That he would stick around made little sense, and that made the duke nervous. He must know something we don’t.
Two kilometers into the forest, there was still no sign of vehicles or other BattleMechs—only the Spider , which seemed to shadow their movement. Duke Vedet found himself getting more anxious, more frustrated. They were wasting time because of a little paranoia. One quick rush would put them in range of that Spider. If they hit it once or twice, it would slow down, enough to fall to the rest of the lance’s firepower. He reached out to activate his comm system and tell Hauptmann Klein his idea.
Suddenly, the world around him changed completely.
The deep shade of the dense forest lit up all around him. At first, it looked as if they had reached the edge of the forest and sunlight was pouring in. But the light was too dull, too orange and red. Fire! The entire dry forest was on fire, in front of and behind him. A hot, soot-filled wind battered him from all directions.
We walked right into a trap.
“Hauptmann Klein,” he said, an edge of fear in his voice as he watched how fast the flames were spreading.
“I see it, sir. We need to dump our explosive ammo right now and wade into the fire, heading back toward the road. The ’Mechs may overheat, but if we move slow we’ll most likely make it out.”
Duke Vedet didn’t want to run. He wanted to stay and fight, but there was nothing to fight. The Irregulars or the Daredevils, one of them had tricked him. He now knew exactly how Bernard must have felt. He had been so concerned about hidden ’Mechs in the lake that he had failed to recognize the real trap.
“Sir?” Klein pressed.
“All units, dump your ammunition and make for the road. Watch your heat levels, but don’t stop, keep moving.” He watched a pile of autocannon rounds pile up almost knee-deep to First Leutnant Howe’s Blade. He released his own short-range missiles, which clanged and rumbled to the forest floor near his Atlas’ feet. He stared at them for a moment,
hating the waste of ammo his troops could ill-afford to lose.
I am going to bring in the reserves and supplies I need. These Silver Hawks and the local garrison are going to pay for this!
He waded his Atlas off to the west. Within seconds he was surrounded by roaring flames, drenched in his own sweat. The Atlas tried to vent the heat but couldn’t. By the time he reached the road, the other ’Mechs of the lance were there, all seared the sickening black color of cooked paint. Some had damaged weapons. All were so hot that they literally had smoke rising off them.
They will all pay for this!
26
Zanzibar, Tamarind
Duchy of Tamarind-Abbey
6 December 3137
She heard the gurgling sound and felt the man quiver under her, fighting for his last breath. That breath, its heat, its smell, jarred her. Trillian abruptly sat up, drenched in sweat, eyes wide. Even the wadded-up cloth coat she used for a pillow was soaked with her sweat. The alley where she slept was quiet except for the stirring of a few other homeless people who lived there. The nightmare again. It ruined her sleep on a regular basis.
Looking across the alley, she saw the half-raised head of Klaus Wehner, one eye open to look at her. The nightmares kept him awake as well, because he was her guardian. As with Roderick, she could count on Klaus. He never told her how he got away from the policewoman who had apprehended him. He knew how she had escaped.
Trillian lay back down on the cool, wet pile of cloth and pulled the ragged blanket over her. The chill of the Zanzibar night seemed to make her joints ache, but most of that came from sleeping on a piece of packing cardboard for a mattress. She had camped out before, but never like this. They survived, one step ahead of the law, by living with the lowest caste in the city—the beggars.
Fire at Will Page 21