Mercenary's Star

by William H. Keith

  "Yes?"

  "Be careful." What did he hear in her voice? Regret, perhaps? He wished he could talk to her, but there was no time. They had to move now. Time enough for talk later, when they were safely back in camp.

  "Always am, Lori. You know me. Keep your circuit open. I'll be calling."

  He gave the order, and the ‘Mechs moved forward.

  The sentries at the supply dump fence saw the rebel ‘Mechs as soon as they appeared above the crest of the ridge. There were scattered shots, and a machine gun began hammering from the cover of a low pile of sandbags and dirt off to the right. Grayson could see men scattering off into the woods and brush that surrounded the base.

  "McCall!"

  "Aye, Cap'n."

  "Mount guard here and give us cover." The Rifleman had the heaviest firepower of the raiding party. "The rest of you, hit the fence."

  Traxen's Locust reached the perimeter fence first, crumpling the wire mesh flat with one huge metal foot. As the other ‘Mechs rushed through onto the poured ferrocrete slab, the hammering machine gun abruptly went silent.

  The base was deserted, its workers and astechs fled into the brush. Much of the land in this part of the Southern Highlands was swampy, fed by the broad and sluggish Vorma River to the north. Grayson wondered how many of the Loyalists would die in those swamps. Except for that, it looked as though this raid would be remarkably bloodless.

  "Lori!"

  "Here, Captain."

  "We're secure here...but I don't like it." Considering it was the only Kurita supply dump they'd round anywhere outside of Regis itself for weeks, the place was too lightly guarded. "Get your boys and girls in here, but don't plan on staying long."

  He eyed the horizon. How long would it take a force of Kurita ‘Mechs to arrive from the nearest government outpost? He knew there were no ‘Mechs in the village of Blackjack itself. Rebel scouts had been watching it ever since they'd learned of the supply dump's existence. Indeed, there was no armor in the area except for a pair of Centurions, and even those weren't in evidence today. If there were ‘Mechs at Tyssedal, 50 kilometers to the northeast, they would need at least forty minutes to reach Blackjack, even if they had a strike force ready to go on an instant's notice.

  Where were those Centurions? On patrol, evidently...but patrolling what?

  Clay's Wolverine and the rebel ‘Mechs with hands began moving among the piles of supplies, stacking up what could be easily loaded and carried away aboard the hover transports. Whatever they could not carry, they would destroy.

  Grayson's external pick-ups shrilled with the whistle of an incoming missile. It landed close beside Dace's Phoenix Hawk, smashing a wooden crate in a whirl of splinters. Grayson checked his Hawk's instrumentation almost before realizing they were under attack. The sonic scanners traced the incoming LRM from the south, but his Magnetic Anomaly Detector showed distinct traces of movement to both the east and the north.

  The Phoenix Hawk dropped the heavy canister of coolant fluid it was carrying and brought its heavy laser up to the ready. Traxen lowered her Locust into a deadly crouch, the barrel of her laser protruding from beneath her ‘Mech's cockpit like the snout of a cornered animal.

  "Heads up!" Grayson barked. "MAD traces north and east! Make that north, east, and south! We've got company, and lots of it!"

  The first Kurita Archer broke through the underbrush three hundred meters from the eastern edge of the base perimeter. A second followed close behind. Grayson's MAD readouts were giving fragmented warnings now, so rapidly were they picking up approaching masses of fusion-driven armor.

  An Archer weighed 70 tons, ten tons more than the heaviest of Grayson's ‘Mechs. It mounted 20 long-range missile tubes in each of two enormous launcher packs set over its shoulders, and carried a medium laser in each arm as well. Two more lasers were set into its torso, directed toward the heavy ‘Mech's rear to protect it from attacks from behind. The Archer was an old BattleMech design, but it was a highly respected one, valued for its ability to lay down sustained, long-range bombardments.

  Grayson counted four Archer's in sight so far, two to the east, one in the north, one in the southeast. Those monsters could pound his tiny raiding party into fragments before any rebel ‘Mechs could get close enough to be certain of scoring a hit.

  Grayson thought fast It was obvious now that the supply dump had been bait for a trap. The arming of the trap was less obvious. His guess was that the Kurita ‘Mechs had been carefully hidden in the woods and swamps around the Blackjack site before the establishment of the supply dump, so that they would go unnoticed by rebel scouts. He punched up a computer map projection on his main console screen. Data was spotty for this area, but he could see large patches of swamp in every direction. Those Archer's may even have been submerged in the swamps, with nothing showing but their flat heads and missile bins. Rotating crews out of the supply base or from Blackjack could have kept them constantly manned and ready, certain that the rebels would attack this base sooner or later. It was a neat trap, and it showed every sign of working perfectly.

  Grayson's mind raced. His force of light and medium ‘Mechs would not last long in a slugging match with Archers. He directed his ‘Mech's computer to overlay the map with MAD readings and the four Archers that were already in sight. The display showed a ragged ring of amber lights three-quarters of the way around the cluster of lights marking his own command. There was an empty space to the west, but the ridge they'd been hiding behind was in that direction and could well be shielding the approach of enemy ‘Mechs. He and his men were being herded toward the west. Missiles were flashing and banging throughout the supply dump now, but so far with little effect The only option other than staying put was to fight off the closing of the ring. If he ordered his raiders to scatter toward the west, they might escape the Archers' inexorable advance.

  If this was a trap, the trappers would have foreseen that move. Grayson's mind flashed across the various intelligence reports he'd read, the statements taken from enemy prisoners and Verthandians who had deserted the Regis Blues to join the rebels. There weren't that many Archers on Verthandi. He knew of one company-Company A of the 3rd Strike Regiment—that had four of them. Four Archers were what he could see right now.

  Company A, First Battalion of the 3rd regiment was a typical mix of light and heavy ‘Mechs. Grayson put himself in the enemy commander's boots. If he were laying a trap like this, he would hold his heavy machines somewhere where they wouldn't be seen right away, then make noise everywhere else to drive the prey into the waiting heavies' grasp.

  The ridge. Those Archers were herding his raiders toward the ridge. The enemy heavies must have moved up behind it while the rebels were advancing into the supply dump. They'd be waiting there now for the rebel machines to come up the exposed eastern face of the ridge.

  "All units!" he shouted. "Move south! Stay tight, and watch your flanks!"

  Dace protested. "I'm getting heavy MAD readings that way. Captain! It's clear to the west!"

  "Yeah...that's what they want us to think! Now...move!" He switched frequencies. "Lori! Are you there?"

  "We're here. What's the matter?"

  "It's a trap... an ambush. We're breaking out. Tell the hovercraft to scatter...and you take off with them. We'll rendezvous at Point Delta!"

  "Can I..."

  "You can't! We're facing heavies! Run for it, now!" The thought of Lori's 20-ton Locust facing Archers or the other heavies of the 3rd was chilling.

  Grayson, Clay, and McCall formed their three ‘Mechs into a wedge with Grayson's Shadow Hawk at the point, the Rifleman behind and to his left, and the Wolverine on his right. The rebel ‘Mechs clustered behind the three Gray Death machines, moving south in a shambling run punctuated by the bursts and mushrooming pillars of smoke marking the fall of incoming missiles. Dace's Phoenix Hawk took an LRM hit in one arm, and Sonovarro's Wasp was limping. The wedge slowed to allow Sonovarro to keep up.

  Something moved in the woods dead ah
ead. Grayson triggered a burst of autocannon fire, shredding trees and tearing up great clumps of ground vegetation. It was a Crusader, the same one they'd faced that day below the walls of the University. Grayson recognized the patches of new armor where his autocannon fire had hit the enemy machine in the earlier battle.

  The Kurita ‘Mech blocked the way to the south.

  "Keep moving!" Grayson shouted; The Crusader could only stop one of them if they all kept moving. A quick glance at his scanner readouts showed that the Archers to the north and east had closed in and were at the supply dump now. There were MAD readings from the ridge to the west, too—big ones. Grayson's computer identified a Marauder and a Warhammer at the crest of the ridge.

  He fired his laser, smashing and clawing at the Crusader's upper torso. McCall's Rifleman added a hail of laser and autocannon fire to the volley. The Kurita ‘Mech staggered back a step under the assault, but recovered quickly. Short-range missiles cleaved the air, smashing into Grayson's ‘Mech with savage accuracy. Next, the enemy ‘Mech's arms came up, and laser bolts hammered into Clay's Wolverine. The rebel ‘Mechs behind them wavered, their pilots uncertain. Warning lights rippled across Grayson's instrument boards.

  The Archers were closing rapidly from behind, and it would be only moments before the failed ambush at the ridge would re-form and sweep down on the struggling rebel band. At the moment, though, the three Gray Death ‘Mechs outweighed the Crusader with a combined 170 tons against its 65. If they hesitated, they were all doomed. If they forged ahead...

  "All units!" Grayson yelled. "Charge!"

  Autocannon fire chopped and shredded at the Crusader's torso. Laser pulses flashed across the narrowing range and seemed to sink into thirsty metal. Grayson triggered a salvo of five LRMs and saw four of the five shriek into the heavy ‘Mech's midsection.

  All seven rebel ‘Mechs were running at full speed now. McCall yelled something unintelligible, a Scots curse or battle yell, Grayson guessed. His own head sang with battle thrill, an exultation that overrode his fear in a blinding surge. He triggered his Hawk's jump jets and vaulted the final 50 meters to the Crusader, landing with a momentum that hurtled him squarely into the Crusader at full speed.

  The roar of colliding tons of metal momentarily drowned out the crash of explosions. The Crusader, already off balance in the withering fire from its opponents, went over backward in an ungainly sprawl. Unable and unwilling to check his Shadow Hawk's charge, Grayson went down on top of it in a tangle of metal limbs and weapons.

  Grayson's Hawk was on its feet first, but he was too close to use his own weapons effectively. Instead, he kicked savagely with his ‘Mech's right leg as the Crusader struggled to rise. The heavier ‘Mech fell back once more. Grayson had an instant's warning as he saw the SRM pack covers set into the Crusader's legs pop open. He twisted aside as twelve SRMs streaked into the sky, narrowly missing him. Missile reloads dropped home into the empty tubes, but Grayson was already bringing his hand down on his ‘Mech's jump jet controls. Backpack rockets fired, a throaty roar arrested almost before it had begun as Grayson chopped off the power as quickly as he'd cut it on. The Shadow Hawk rose three meters, seemed to stagger in mid-flight, then dropped from the sky, a 55-ton sledgehammer that caught the prostrate Crusader squarely in its already gouged and cratered chest.

  Coolant fluid exploded in mist and steam. Miniature lightnings arced and stabbed from shorted circuitry cables and power leads. Armor tore, peeling back like shredded metal foil as he extracted the Hawk's legs from the ruin of the larger ‘Mech's torso.

  The other rebel ‘Mechs arrived at that moment, still running. Grayson brought his ‘Mech's leg back a second time. "For Piter," he said, and the leg snapped forward. From the looks of the Crusader's ruined head, he had no doubt that the pilot was already dead

  The rebel ‘Mechs were outside the closing ring of ambushers now, racing south. Grayson's move had caught the enemy by surprise, and they seemed to be in confusion. The jaws of the trap had snapped shut—on thin air.

  Grayson rapidly gave his orders. There was only desert to the south, untold thousands of hectares of Verthandi's most inhospitable terrain. They would have to work their way to the west and then north to make it to the rendezvous. The enemy did not seem to be pursuing them. Perhaps they could cut through the woods behind the ridge above Blackjack. The Kurita forces would not expect them to cut so close to the site of the failed trap. If there were other enemy units in those woods and swamps, they would be looking farther afield.

  Clay called Grayson's attention to a rising column of smoke well to the west of the supply dump's location. 'Trouble, Captain. That could be our hovercraft convoy."

  Cold fear took Grayson's heart, replacing the exultation that had gripped him during the hand-to-hand fight with the Crusader. Lori! He urged his Hawk into a lurching run, ignoring the heat overload lights already beginning to wink and flicker on his board.

  Lori must have been trying to shield the hovercraft in her charge when the Kurita ‘Mechs had burst down on her out of the woods to the east. Grayson saw the flaming wrecks of a trio of hover transports scattered across the clearing, but no sign of the others. Perhaps they'd made good their escape.

  Lori's Locust Was on a low knoll, crouched hull down, its laser spraying the woods eighty meters away. The Locust was hideously damaged, the left leg smashed and twisted, the radio antennae reduced to tangled wiring and blackened scars in the cockpit armor. Four Kurita ‘Mechs advanced from the east, a Griffin, a Stinger, a Phoenix Hawk, and a Wasp. Those four were the recon lance for the 3rd Strike Regiment's A Company. While swinging west from the failed ambush to try to block the raiding force's retreat to the north, they must have stumbled into Lori and the hovercraft convoy.

  Grayson hit his autocannon controls once, then savagely hit them again. A red indicator glared back at him from his console with baleful urgency. The autocannon was jammed in its mount, possibly destroyed. Whether the damage was the result of enemy fire or his collision with the Crusader, he couldn't tell. The loading mechanism stubbornly refused to feed. He checked his LRM packs, then triggered the controls, which slammed in his last reload for the long-range tubes.

  "Quick time!" He struggled to keep the desperation out of his voice. "McCall, Clay! Rush them!"

  Lori's Locust was still six hundred meters away and the Kurita ‘Mechs slightly further. Grayson felt as though he were trapped in the horror of a slow-motion dream. Step after lumbering step brought his Shadow Hawk no closer to the tableau of Lori's BattleMech, crippled and alone as she exchanged fire with the four Kurita ‘Mechs.

  The 55-ton Griffin was in a half-crouch, its right arm heavy PPC leveled at the light scout ‘Mech. Blue lightning blasted through the space between them, and Grayson saw fragmented control packs and the power leads to the Locust's medium laser scatter in flaming wreckage across the knoll.

  Five hundred meters.

  He triggered a salvo of LRMs and watched the missiles arc into the enemy Griffin. The Griffin took no notice of this new attack, but continued firing bolt after searing bolt into Lori's ‘Mech. The Locust was burning now, black, oily smoke coiling into a sky already darkened by the funeral pyres of the wrecked hover transports.

  "Eject, Lori! Eject!" With her reception antennae shattered, he knew she wouldn't hear him, but Grayson found himself willing her to blast the escape hatch clear and to eject from the burning hulk. Perhaps it was already too late. Perhaps the ejection mechanism had fouled. Perhaps the Locust's power was dead. Perhaps Lori was already dead...

  Four hundred meters.

  There was a flash, and metal panels hurtled away from the burning ‘Mech. Before the fragments hit the ground, another flash sent Lori's control chair rocketing into the sky on flaming thrusters.

  Missiles arrowed through the trees, exploding in front of the charging rebel ‘Mechs. Grayson's ‘Mech stumbled as craters opened in the ground ahead. He checked the Shadow Hawk's charge and turned to face a Kurita Marauder smashing
through the trees two hundred meters to his right An enemy Warhammer and a pair of Archer's now stepped into the clearing between him and the battle around Lori's ‘Mech.

  His last salvo of LRMs snapped into their tubes in the Hawk's right torso. Ignoring heat overload warnings and the rattling impact of shrapnel against his ‘Mech, he brought the HUD crosshairs of his sights onto the enemy Marauder and triggered the missile controls. He had no doubt at all that he had the enemy Regimental commander in his sights. Missiles slammed into the Marauder. One struck the egg-shaped hull squarely where the cockpit screen mated to armor. The enemy ‘Mech froze in position. A hit! A hard one!

  With rage, grief, and frustration boiling in him, Grayson started forward. A metal-armored hand on his Hawk's arm stopped him. "This way. Captain," Clay said, without emotion. "We've got to retreat! There's nothing we can do for her now."

  Through a haze of tears and anguish, Grayson could see brown and orange-clad foot soldiers closing on the spot where Lori's ejection seat had landed, not far from the shattered, blazing wreckage of her Locust.

  The Rifleman staggered under the impact of a pair of LRMs from one of the Archers. More enemy ‘Mechs were arriving, rushing past the immobile form of the Marauder. He'd crippled the leader, but the fact brought no relief or thrill of victory. Lori!

  "Pull back." Grayson scarcely recognized his own voice. "Scatter to the west, and rendezvous."

  But Clay and McCall stayed with him as they broke free of the ambush and made their way west and north. Behind them, the smoke from Lori's shattered machine continued to stain the sky.

  34

  A Regis Blues deserter told Grayson that the Dracos had taken Lori alive, but under close guard, to the University's Central Tower the next day. The Kurita high command was jubilant, having immediately realized that they'd managed to take one of the offworlder mercs who had transformed the rebel army into a combat-experienced, efficient fighting machine.