by Andrew Keith
Neither shot penetrated, but they pitted the Wolverine's thick chest armor enough to give the pilot something to think about. The Archer outmassed and outgunned the other BattleMech, but only if Alex could keep his opponent at a distance so that his LRMs could take their toll.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lovell's damaged Raven trading shots with the Cicada and apparently getting the better of the fight. If they could just get those hidden missile batteries beyond the ridge out of the picture, the odds were still in the Gray Death's favor . . .
Caitlin DeVries reached the top of the ridge and surveyed the valley below. The enemy 'Mech was right out in the open, a Dervish standing still to conserve heat while it fired as quickly as its missile launchers could recycle between shots.
The Dervish was only slightly heavier than her Centurion, though the design was better armed and included jump jets that would make it a slippery opponent. But this time she didn't hesitate. Arming her own missiles and the Centurion's autocannon, she started down the slope with guns blazing.
Almost immediately the Dervish pilot reacted, jumping eastward and shifting its batteries to face the new foe. Missiles streaked toward the Centurion, but went wide in the enemy pilot's haste to shift from indirect to direct fire. Her autocannon stitched a line of shell craters across its armored torso.
And then, abruptly, the scene was transformed. In an instant the Dervish was bracketed by two more BattleMechs bearing the crest of the Legion settling down on pillars of fire on either side of the fighting machine. Murphy's Wolverine opened fire from close range with a battery of Harpoon SRMs, and a moment later the Jenner added its vote with four laser beams all aimed straight at the target's cockpit.
As the Dervish toppled, Caitlin's only thought was of how she had made the wrong choice. She had left Alex to face the enemy alone, though Murphy hadn't needed her help here to deal with the Dervish.
She only hoped her bad judgment hadn't left Alex Carlyle to die unaided.
* * *
Alex fired off his missiles and swore once again as the Wolverine jumped away. The speed and maneuverability of his target just about made up for his own advantages of size and firepower, and the result was little short of a stand-off. That other pilot was good, damned good, and Alex was beginning to think he'd never be able to pin him down.
At least the missiles from the far side of the ridgeline had stopped falling. It looked, too, as if Lovell had finally found the Cicada's weak spot and hammered it hard enough to put the damaged 'Mech out of action for good.
If only he could put an end to his own duel the same way.
Alex traded LRM shots yet again, missing the target but taking more damage of his own. This whole operation was turning into a debacle. An Archer should have been able to take out a comparative lightweight like a Wolverine without even running up its heat levels too much.
Alex was trying to line up another shot when Murphy and Bodnar appeared on the crest of the hill where they'd first spotted the Cicada. He felt like cheering, but he also felt like a fool, being bailed out by the recon lance because he couldn't deal with the enemy himself.
The Wolverine's pilot finally recognized defeat when Caitlin's Centurion materialized on the road. He popped the cover on his canopy and ejected, leaving his 'Mech standing like a brooding war memorial in the middle of the devastated field. Bodnar's Jenner touched down nearby to take the man prisoner before he could fade into the underbrush and attempt an escape back to his friends at Loch Sheol.
Loch Sheol . . .
For all the fighting, for all the sacrifice, Alex was still no closer to learning what awaited them at Loch Sheol.
38
Loch Sheol
Glengarry, Federated Commonwealth
11 April 3056
Hauptmann Ison-Price frowned as she checked the cockpit scanner readouts. This pesthole she'd drawn as her station in the general's Operation Trident made most of her sensors unreliable, but some deep instinct told her that the enemy wasn't far away.
Damn Franke and his lance! she thought bitterly. A single message, heavily laden with static, had reported the patrol lance taking fire near the head of Benmor Pass. After that, silence. Company B was operating in the dark, and Ison-Price didn't like it one bit.
She let out a sigh of resignation. The general's orders had left no room for initiative or second thoughts. With the patrol lance out of touch, it was her duty to take her troops out of Sheolport and engage the Gray Death as soon as possible.
"Move out, people," she ordered sharply, and swung her Crusader around. With the rest of the company command lance following, she led the way toward the bridge to Loch Sheol, where the four 'Mechs of the fire lance were already waiting. As she started over the bridge, the driver of the Hetzer wheeled assault gun guarding this section of the port perimeter waved nonchalantly. She envied the infantry and armor in the landing force. Their job was easy—secure the port perimeter and wait for further orders.
But easy or hard, she had her duty, and Hauptmann Ison-Price intended to see it carried through to the end.
* * *
"That's only four more, Colonel Carlyle," said Dingo Jack Murphy over the command channel. "I can't believe we could've missed an entire company or more. If we've overlooked so much as a deserter taking a crap behind a tree then it's time I give it up and go back to hunting 'roos for a living!"
Alex Carlyle nodded slowly, but of course Murphy couldn't see him. His commlink was back on line, after a fashion, but it would take a full overhaul before he'd be exchanging voice-and-image messages. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said, frowning at his monitors.
Following the battle with the enemy recon 'Mechs, Carlyle, Murphy, Caitlin, and MechWarrior Bodnar had continued their interrupted scouting mission, leaving Lovell's Raven to wait on the road for Dumont to start bringing the rest of the Legion force across the river. The battalion commander had managed to imply that Alex had run a whole range of unnecessary risks in the fight by the bridge, charges that had done absolutely nothing to improve Alex's mood.
That had been more than an hour earlier. Since then Murphy had shown Alex and Caitlin a shallow slope down to the riverbed that he'd discovered during his flanking attack on the enemy lance. On Dingo Jack's suggestion they'd decided to conduct their probe along the river rather than using the more exposed road. The river had the advantage of cutting straight through the rugged terrain between the pass and the port facility, so it was almost as good as a highway for the four BattleMechs as they probed the unknown territory in search of the enemy.
They'd been lucky so far. Vargas and his pilots were still playing cat and mouse with the Free Skye fighter cover, but none of the enemy aerospacers had overflown the winding river since the scouting party had started using it. Meanwhile, the heat and magnetic disturbances continued to play merry hell with onboard sensors. Though Alex was exasperated at not being able to use them, he knew his force would never have been able to work their way this close to the enemy DZ otherwise.
Now Murphy's Wolverine had advanced to a position where he could hide behind a tumble of rocks and actually watch the Sheol port bridge, while the rest of the party waited further back and studied the situation from video signals relayed to them from the Wolverine's cameras.
They'd visually identified only eight BattleMechs around the port. Were the others lying in ambush, waiting for the Gray Death to walk into an ambush? Or were they still aboard ship, delayed in unloading for some reason or other? Or . . .
"Murphy," Alex said with sudden urgency. "Can you get a visual on any of those DropShips from where you are?"
The scout didn't answer right away, but the video image blurred as he tried to swing his cameras to view the port. Alex cursed under his breath as he realized there just wasn't an adequate line of sight . . .
Then, suddenly, the monitor image went wild. It took Alex several seconds to realize that Murphy had just triggered his jump jets and leapt upward, out of the ravine
. "Damn it, man, what are you doing?" he shouted.
"Just gettin' you what you wanted, mate," came back the imperturbable reply.
The Wolverine had touched down on the port tarmac, landing within a few meters of a Galleon class light tank and a cluster of surprised-looking riflemen. Murphy's weapons were already blazing, but even as his autocannon slammed round after round into the Galleon, his cameras were zooming in on the massive DropShips across the open surface of the landing field.
"Bodnar, Caitlin, get up there and give him some support," Alex snapped, angry at having this new fight suddenly forced on him, yet grudgingly admiring Murphy's freewheeling initiative. No wonder Dumont had sounded so disapproving when talking about the recon lance commander.
He started aiming his missile batteries to give Murphy covering fire; but his eyes were on the video images while his finger played over the keyboard. His own comm panel had already been programmed to record the images from the Wolverine, and after a moment he switched from the live feed to a playback. As one of the Union Class ships filled the screen he froze the frame and zoomed in.
Alex remembered that ship. The name, Anastasia, had been partly blacked out by the scorching marks of a missile detonation, but the computer verified that the registry numbers below were the same as the ones on the ship he'd attacked at Dunkeld.
It was theoretically possible to transfer 'Mechs between DropShips in orbit, but it was a long, laborious process and not something to be undertaken lightly. Odds were that the DropShip had touched down empty, since none of her 'Mech contingent had escaped the first landing.
He hastily checked the Leopard, and felt a sinking sensation deep in his gut. It was the other refugee from Dunkeld. Two empty DropShips . . .
The whole landing here at Loch Sheol had been a decoy after all. One company of BattleMechs lightly supported by ground troops, enough to simulate a major effort and draw a disproportionate number of legionnaires north to face them.
Which meant the real landing was yet to come.
"Those explosions are coming from the port!" Hauptmann Ison-Price stopped her Crusader and turned to head back toward the battle that had suddenly erupted behind the little 'Mech column at Loch Sheol. "Damn them! It's like fighting an army of phantoms!"
Her commlink crackled. "Trident One, Trident One, this is Asgard." General von Bulow's voice was curt, abrupt. "We have reports of fighting in the drop zone. Confirm."
She switched to the frequency of the ground-to-orbit relay. "Affirmative, Asgard," she reported. "They must have come in up the river and attacked as soon as they knew we were moving out. I have no details to report, but I confirm firing around Sheolport. More to follow ..."
"I am ordering Anastasia and Raven to lift, Trident One," the general told her. "And the other two DropShips will move to the designated emergency retrieval point, since you can't cover the port itself. Your priority at this point is to keep the enemy engaged as long as possible, then withdraw to the retrieval point and pull out with whatever forces you can lift out. Do you understand your orders?"
"Yes, Herr General," Ison-Price grated. With almost a quarter of her force already lost and an oversized Gray Death company in the field, the chances of breaking off the action and getting aboard DropShips was narrow at best. "Request; you release fighter support to assist us, sir."
"Negative, Trident One." The simple words sounded like a death knell in her ears. "Trident Two is commencing operations now and requires the fighters."
"But—" Ison-Price bit back the protest. As of now, her company had become expendable. As long as they kept the Gray Death contingent occupied here, von Bulow had no particular need to support them. "Orders acknowledged, Herr General," she said mechanically.
The channel went dead.
Hauptmann Ann Ison-Price considered her options. She could surrender now or she could fight on, with little hope of bringing more than a handful of her troops out alive.
She had always prided herself on upholding the honor of her regiment, on obeying orders and carrying out her duty no matter what. And others in the regiment were depending on her to fulfill her role at Loch Sheol and pin down the enemy while the rest of the Operation Trident unfolded.
But the force the Gray Death had sent north was already committed, wasn't it? A losing battle here would buy no more than a few hours' time and a few extra Legion casualties. In the long run would that really be enough to make a difference in the rest of the campaign?
She reached for her commlink board and switched channels to one of the frequencies reserved for diplomatic contact. Ison-Price had never let her troops down before. She didn't know if what she was about to do would change all that, but it was the only choice that made any sense to her now.
* * *
"Gray Death Commander, Gray Death Commander, this is Hauptmann Ann Ison-Price of the Tenth Skye Rangers. I wish to discuss terms of ending this . . . situation."
Alex heard the incoming message, but could hardly believe what his ears. For a sickening moment he wondered if he had made a fatal mistake, missed additional enemy 'Mechs on the ground after all. Perhaps the scout force was already surrounded.
But the four DropShips at the port were all lifting off, and except for some desultory resistance from the tanks posted around Sheolport there was no sign of an enemy counterattack. His scanners showed nothing, nor did a quick look around him using eyeballs and video cameras, the only reliable sensor gear he had left.
"Gray Death Commander, please respond," the call went on after a moment. "I wish to ... I wish to surrender my force to save further unnecessary bloodshed."
She was surrendering ...
Then those other ships had been decoys, and the 'Mech landing at Loch Sheol a diversion.
Or his opponent was trying to trick him.
He switched to the diplomatic channel. "Free Skye Commander, this is Colonel Carlyle, commanding the Gray Death Legion." Maybe if they thought Grayson Carlyle was on Glengarry after all, the invaders would be less inclined to debate matters. Certainly they might rapidly change their minds in favor of a fight if they knew that they were up against a half-trained cadet pretending to be the famous Colonel Grayson Carlyle. "If you're serious about surrender, then call off your infantry and armor immediately and recall those DropShips to the ground. And bring your BattleMechs and fighters back to Sheolport where I can see them." He hesitated, unsure of how far to push the bluff. "Any further sign of hostile action will result in the destruction of your entire command."
He shifted channels quickly. "Ghost Leader to Chevalier One. Dumont, get your forces moving toward Loch Sheol ASAP. Ghost Two will update you on the situation. Caitlin, you've been monitoring?"
"Yeah ... Do you think they're serious, Alex?"
"I don't know. We'll soon find out." He switched back to the diplomatic channel just as his opposite number replied to his transmission.
"Colonel Carlyle, I have instructed the forces at Sheolport to suspend hostilities provided your troops do the same. But I have no authority over the aerospace forces, and cannot control their actions. My 'Mech company is preparing to cross the Sheolport Bridge. Do I have your guarantee of a truce until we conclude negotiations?"
Alex didn't reply right away. If it was all an elaborate deception, he could be leaving his exposed force open to disaster. But a chance to finish this confrontation without further losses was something he just couldn't pass us.
"You have it," he said at last. "My word of honor that we will only renew the battle if attacked first. Good enough?"
"Grayson Death Carlyle's word is good," she said. That made him wince. Was it bad faith for him to let that misconception stand? He didn't see that he had any choice. Not yet, at least.
"Very well," he said. "I will reestablish contact when I'm sure our terms have been met. Carlyle clear."
He paused to order Murphy to withdraw from the port. The scout returned to his previous position, with MechWarrior Bodnar's Jenner posted close by. Then he is
sued more detailed orders to Dumont, and listened gravely to a report from Vargas that indicated the enemy fighters had abruptly broken off and headed south and west, away from Glensheol.
"What are your orders, Colonel?" the pilot asked when he'd finished.
"For now, I want you flying cover here. If you pick up any sign of trouble, let me know. Ghost Leader, clear."
"Dragonslayer, on the way."
Then, and only then, did Alex make the call that he'd been wanting to make for what seemed like hours on end. "Ghost Leader calling Glengarry Command. Put me through to Major McCall."
"This is McCall," the major answered promptly, sounding harassed. " 'Tis aye guid tae hear your voice, laddie . . . Colonel. We've got troubles ... big ones."
"Another landing?"
"Aye. Ainither four ships hae just changed their delta-vees. Computer says Coltbridge this time.'.'
"The landing here turned out to be a diversion, Mac," Alex said quietly. "Two empty DropShips and a reinforced company that was nothing but bait. Von Bulow seems to have cut them loose pretty thoroughly now that he's launching the real attack. We've knocked out four 'Mechs and some infantry and armor in a couple of skirmishes, and now their CO is talking about surrender."
"Sounds like you and your lads and lassies hae been busy," McCall said, sounding impressed. "But by taking you north tae Loch Sheol, the enemy's got what they wanted whether their decoys surrender or not. The more time you spend there, the worse it is for us doon here."
"You're mobilizing Hannibal's Cannibals to head for Coltbridge, aren't you?"
