Mercenary's Star

by William H. Keith

  "How long do we have?" Tollen asked, his voice harsh.

  Grayson remembered the rebel's outburst on his return from Scandiahelm, and shuddered. Tollen Brasednewic now seemed to be a man whose emotions were held tightly in check, but only just barely. The trust between them had vanished, as if it had never been.

  "Half an hour until things get hot on Fox Island," Grayson replied. "Figure ten, maybe fifteen minutes after that until it's our turn."

  Racing across the Bluesward, six BattleMechs, fifteen hover transports, and two dozen skimmers carried a total of nearly two hundred troops. The ‘Mechs maintained a steady, ground-eating pace. Though moving at less than full speed to keep heat build-up to a minimum, the machines devoured the ground in five-meter strides, Grayson knew that, off to the west, the newly-arrived Kurita Drop-Ships squatted in the Regis spaceport, but he spared no time looking at them. The plan required that they cover the forty kilometers' between the Li Plantation and Regis as quickly as possible.

  The chances were good that the Dracos would not observe their approach. House-sized boulders and patches of forest broke up much of this section of the plateau, offering abundant cover. What's more, the chance of a spy satellite searching their small part of the plain at that moment was relatively slim.

  Hearing a rush of distant sound over his external pick-ups, Grayson swiveled his Shadow Hawk's head in the direction indicated by his instruments—a hair south of west. "Here they come, boys and girls," he said. "Freeze! McCall! Be ready!"

  The column came to a halt, remaining motionless among the boulders and a scattering of trees. McCall's Rifleman assumed a combat-ready stance, its quad weapon barrels searching the western sky.

  A trio of black dots raced northward across the sky, almost touching the horizon. They moved rapidly, slipping behind the spherical shadows of the DropShips at the spaceport In the space of three heartbeats, they'd crossed the distance from Regis to the low, gray-black line of forest marking the Basin Rim and the Silvan jungle beyond. Only McCall's ‘Mech moved, its torso swivelling slowly as its weapons tracked.

  'Tha' laddies missed us, sair," the Caledonian said.

  "Right you are." The dots had vanished below the Basin Rim. Grayson thought about Ramage and the others waiting out the Kurita assault beneath the jungle canopy. "Step it up, everyone! We have to get in place, fast!" The remaining kilometers dwindled, and a view of Regis began to fill the ‘Mech's cockpit screens ahead.

  The airfield was right where Li Chin had said it was, beneath the northeast walls of the University itself. The Kurita AeroSpace Fighters were gone, flying combat cover for the raid on Fox Island. Through telescopic imaging, Grayson could make out the ground crew and Techs moving among the buildings and stacks of supplies. The field itself was a crude affair, little more than a leveled stretch of bulldozed ground. The heavy construction ‘Mechs that had plowed the strip were still sitting in the shadow of the University wall. A Crusader walked sentry go. There were also human guards pacing narrow strips in front of the stockpiled caches of fuel and ammunition. Behind the airfield, a gate under the main University tower stood open. Small hover vehicles moved between the gate and the newly erected military barracks along the airstrip, and a platoon of Regis Blue militia marched in, precision-step out of the city.

  It still looked as though the merc-and-rebel force had not been seen.

  Grayson used BattleMech hand gestures rather than risk having his orders picked up by nearby receivers that might happen to be tuned to their combat channel. ‘Mechs and transports dispersed through the bluegrass. While the ‘Mechs lowered themselves clumsily to their hands and knees in the concealing vegetation, the troops alighted from the vehicles. They were now less than two kilometers from Regis, with the walls and towers of the University rising above them against the sky. Grayson knew they couldn't hope to remain undiscovered for long, of course. It would take only one Blue Militia sentry idly looking down from a parapet to notice the heavy gray forms of BattleMechs lying in the brush a kilometer away.

  They wouldn't have long to wait, however. As Grayson lowered his Shadow Hawk into a prone position, he switched his communicator to the relay channel. He didn't transmit, of course, not this close to the enemy's stronghold. What he could do was listen for a signal.

  It came less than five minutes later.

  "Strikeforce! Strikeforce! Clear sky and green!" The message repeated three times and would be repeated again at intervals. As Grayson switched back to the combat channel, battle thrill was already charging his heart and mind. At once familiar and disturbing, the fearful thumping of his heart was tinged with excitement.

  "Ready!"

  Three dots appeared in the northern sky, vectoring almost directly toward the ‘Mech strike force. The first of the dots grew into the shape of an SL-17 Shilone, its landing gear down as it dropped toward the runway. Its two companions, delta-shaped Slayer's, arrowed across the field and off over the city, breaking left and right to begin their own landing passes. Grayson watched carefully. There was no telling how much fuel or ammo those three fighters still carried. The assault could not begin until all three craft were on the ground.

  As the Shilone rolled to a stop, Techs and astechs were already gathering around, checking for damage. Someone braced a ladder against the side of the cockpit. The whine of the Slayers descending to the runway grew in the distance.

  Grayson kept his attention focused on the runway. Then.

  "Go!" he said sharply.

  Six BattleMechs rose as one from the brush and bluegrass, and sprinted toward the airstrip. The distance to the field seemed suddenly far greater than it had a moment before, when every meter nearer the University walls had seemed to offer more chance of discovery. Now the remaining ground seemed endless.

  Ground crews continued to work with the fighters. The Crusader pilot had turned his ‘Mech to watch the bustle of activity. Even the sentries on the walls above were momentarily diverted

  When someone looked up and saw the advancing BattleMechs, there was a shout, a warning. Grayson saw Techs gesturing wildly, saw the 65-ton Crusader turning ponderously, its left and right arms bringing laser and LRM batteries to bear. Grayson checked his instrumentation. The Crusader was 300 meters distant, well within range, while the nearest of the fighters were to one side and beyond, too far to be good targets.

  "Keep going, everyone!" he shouted into the command circuit "I'll hold the sentry!"

  Grayson changed course slightly, swerving his Shadow Hawk to run directly toward the larger Crusader. The Kurita ‘Mech outweighed Grayson's Hawk by ten tons, but Grayson did not expect to stand and slug it out for long.

  Five long-range missiles arced on twisting contrails of white smoke from the tubes set in the Hawk's right torso. He saw one impact then another, and another, solid hits high up on the Crusader's chest. An alarm shrieked of incoming missiles and he sidestepped to the left, fast. Explosions rattled gravel from his ‘Mech's hull as he followed the missile salvo with a rapid-fire volley of laser bolts, then broke into an all-out lumbering run that hurled his ‘Mech across the remaining meters.

  Something slammed into the Hawk's torso, low and to the right The explosion staggered him, but he kept the ‘Mech on its feet and moving. Other explosions bracketed the ground around him, and laser fire glanced from his left arm. He triggered the twin SRM tubes mounted on the Hawk's head, the roar of the departing rockets thundering in the narrow cockpit. Smoke swirled in battle fog, momentarily so thick that he lost sight of the enemy. Changing direction, he lurched to the left. He considered triggering his combat radar, but quickly abandoned the idea. Using radar would give away his own position as readily as it would locate the enemy. The smoke thinned, and he stepped into the clear.

  Grayson was close beside the end of the runway, the University walls above him. Flashes along the parapets showed where troops were hosing the attackers with machine gun and recoil less rifle fire, and bullets whanging off his hull armor reverberated through Gr
ayson's ‘Mech.

  McCall's Rifleman had stepped all the way out onto the runway, twin autocannons and twin lasers flashing destruction and thunder into the hull of the Shilone only 250 meters away. Grayson saw part of the cockpit splinter in the flash of an autocannon shell, saw fragments of armor Vaulting into the sky. A hundred meters further on, one of the Slayer's burned as Clay's Wolverine plied it with bolt after deadly bolt Techs and astechs scattered wildly before the onslaught. A few, braver or more foolhardy than the rest, had stopped and were blazing away at the BattleMechs along the field with rifles and hand lasers, but to no effect.

  "Ain brred'ach! Sassenach!" Grayson heard the words over his battle circuit rather than through his external pick-ups, but the Caledonian's intent was plain enough. His Rifleman advanced, weapons blazing, and the ragtag defenders threw down their weapons and fled in abject panic.

  A blur of motion near the barracks on the far side of the field caught Grayson's eye. Lasers flashed, and one of the barracks took fire, throwing black smoke into the clear sky. The farthest Slayer came under a fusilade of fire that riddled wings and control surfaces, smashed at the cockpit, and pocked the hull with heat-charred streaks and craters.

  Three for three. If the Kurita fighters weren't destroyed, they would be out of commission for a long, long time to come.

  "Round up!" Grayson called. "Let's move out!"

  Khaled's Stinger stood side by side with Lori’s Locust, spraying the parapets with laser fire. The defenders on the walls had scattered, but those two continued to lay down covering fire to protect the rebel hovercraft. Debrowski's Wasp moved northward, watching for foot soldier assault teams waiting to ambush the ‘Mechs as they withdrew.

  "Way's clear, Captain," Debrowski reported. Grayson acknowledged and signaled the others. With their weapons still covering the city walls, they began to fall back to the north.

  Explosions sent gouts of dirt and rock into the sky. Clay yelled a warning. "Watch the Crusader, on the right!"

  The Crusader was 200 meters away to the east and closing, but there was nothing to block the Gray Death's retreat back toward the jungle and safety.

  Grayson checked his forces, suddenly worried. All the other ‘Mechs were accounted for, but where were the rebel troops? After their sweep through the far side of the airfield, they should have been well to the north by now. Yet they were nowhere to be seen. He swung his Hawk around, searching, and went cold inside. A pitched battle had developed close by the gate, where Brasednewic's troops had dismounted from their hovercraft and were forcing their way into the University gate. The carefully orchestrated plan was threatening to unravel before Grayson's eyes as the Verthandian rebels stormed the University tower.

  Autocannon shells smashed into the Shadow Hawk's left side. In the east, the Crusader was advancing. Through the smoke and rising dust, Grayson could make out at least two more full lances of Kurita ‘Mechs in close formation less than a kilometer away. A churning dust cloud behind the ‘Mechs marked a small fleet of racing hovercraft, each loaded with Kurita line troops and Regis Blues.

  The plan had definitely gone wrong.

  32

  "Brasednewic! What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

  "The way's open. Captain!" the rebel commander replied. "We can push through to the University grounds!"

  "And be trapped in a bottle...or can't you see that army approaching from the east?" Grayson didn't wait for an answer. "McCall! Clay! Help me hold off the Kurita ‘Mechs! Lori, Debrowski! See if you can help Brasednewic!"

  Grayson's autocannon was delivering its rapid-fire thunder as he spoke, the shells smashing into the Crusader's head and torso in a steady stream. McCall joined him, catching the enemy ‘Mech in a deadly autocannon crossfire. The range was too great for precisely aimed head shots, however, and the enemy ‘Mech too large to be felled quickly by a few lucky hits. The Crusader stopped its advance, took a few steps backward under the withering fire, then straightened as though in a heavy wind and began to advance once more.

  Grayson saw that the enemy ‘Mechs alongside were lighter machines, a scattering of Wasp's. Stingers, and Commandos, probably members of the Kurita Light Recon lance they'd encountered in the raid to free the Verthandian prisoners. They did not seem anxious to advance into the sleeting fire the three Gray Death ‘Mechs were laying down, even though most of it was concentrated on the larger Crusader.

  "We're pulling out, Chief!" That was Lori's voice, and a quick glance at the gateway under the University towers showed the last of the hover vehicles pulling off on sharply tilted fans; sending rooster tails of dust high into the air behind them. The ferrocrete under the gateway arch was littered with bodies, blue Loyalist uniforms mingled with the greens, browns, and grays of the rebel troops. More blue uniforms were spilling through the gate as he watched. Lori's Locust backed away, her machine guns raking the advancing mob until it wavered, broke, and tumbled back in disorder.

  Grayson turned back to face the BattleMechs. The Crusader was much closer now, less than two hundred meters. This was going to be tricky.

  "McCall! Clay! Fall back, but be ready to give me cover!"

  The Rifleman and the Wolverine turned and lumbered north behind the Shadow Hawk. Laser bolts flashed and burned to Grayson's left. The recon ‘Mechs had spread out in a rough semicircle, and some of them were working their way to the north in an attempt to cut off the Gray Death's retreat.

  Missiles smashed into the Shadow Hawk's right arm as red lights flashed across Grayson's control panel. He brought the right arm laser into line, punched the firing control, and bit back a savage curse as the weapon refused to fire. He triggered his SRM tubes instead, and watched his last two missiles arc across the narrowing range and into the Crusader's chest.

  He looked to the north. Lori was in a close-range duel with a Stinger, and Clay and McCall were exchanging shots with enemy ‘Mechs hidden by a patch of woods. Where was Debrowski?

  SRMs from the Crusader smashed close beside him and sent his Shadow Hawk into a lumbering run. Grayson knew the slower Crusader wouldn't be able to catch him from behind. That left only the light scout ‘Mechs ahead to worry about.

  Where was Debrowski? "Strike Force Five, this is Strike Force Leader! Where the hell are you, Debrowski?"

  There was no answer. He brought the Shadow Hawk alongside Lori's ‘Mech and joined her in blasting at the enemy Stinger until the scout ‘Mech turned, fired its jump jets, and broke free.

  "Has anyone seen Debrowski's ‘Mech?" Grayson asked on the open band. "Did he get clear?"

  "Captain!" Lori said. "Look south!"

  Grayson spun his Hawk. The smoke from the burning Aerospace Fighter was lying low and heavy between the Gray Death ‘Mechs and the University, but Grayson could see a giant figure emerge from it, reaching forward and down. The Kurita Crusader had not followed Grayson after all, but had sought out another target.

  Debrowski's Stinger lay full-length on the ground some distance to the east of where Grayson had held the line with Clay and McCall. Perhaps the Stinger had gotten lost in the smoke and strayed in the wrong direction. Perhaps Debrowski had been navigating through the smoke by a compass whose reading had been jarred by weapons fire. Whatever the cause, his Stinger had taken hits that left his ‘Mech's left leg in tatters and smashed the laser mounted on its right arm. Now Debrowski was trying to drag his helpless machine clear of the looming Crusader. Even from a range of six hundred meters, Grayson could see that the Stinger's radio antennae had been sheared away from its head. That explained Debrowski's silence.

  The Crusader outweighed the Stinger three to one. One massive fist rose, paused, and descended. Lori gave a soft cry as the Stinger's head splintered like a crystal egg.

  Numb, barely able to speak, Grayson somehow managed to give the order.The surviving Gray Death ‘Mechs withdrew from the field after their hovercraft, which had long since fled north.

  The Kurita ‘Mechs made no attempt to follow.

 
* * * *

  The two men faced one another, eye level with eye. Rebels and Legion members alike surrounded them. "We barely escaped with our lives," Grayson said "Piter Debrowski didn't make it at all. And it's your fault!"

  After a long and grueling trek over little-used jungle trails, the Strike Force had returned to Fox Island to find that the commando forces remaining behind had been victorious. Two full companies of BattleMechs, twenty-four machines, had raided the island, zeroing in on the small encampment that Grayson had ordered manned by a handful of volunteers. The lead Kurita ‘Mechs had blundered into the booby traps reset by Ramage's Techs, and the ordered battle formation had dissolved in chaos. Ramage's commandos had struck from the surrounding jungle, bringing down a Phoenix Hawk and a Centurion and badly damaging three more light and medium ‘Mechs.

  The Kurita pilots, already nervous about operations this far into the jungle, had withdrawn. Overhead, the Slayer and Shilone had circled helplessly above the jungle canopy.

  Montido's rebel Warrior recruits had ambushed the withdrawing enemy ‘Mechs along the Rim Road as they were withdrawing from the island. They managed to claim a damaged Stinger and a pair of Commando's. Grayson's plan to destroy or cripple the fighters as they landed at their base below the University walls had succeeded as well, though at the cost of Debrowski and his Stinger. All in all, the day had gone heavily in favor of the rebel forces.

  Crowding near their leaders, no one could understand what had set off the confrontation.

  Tollen Brasednewic scowled back at Grayson, his dark eyes locked with the younger man’s gray ones. "And it seems to me you’re going too far telling us how to run our war! The council that hired you isn't around any more. Why don't you people go back where you came from, and leave us to settle our own affairs!"

  Collin Dace stepped between the two men. 'Tollen, no! We'd never have made it this far without Captain Carlyle, and you know it!"