She'd been daydreaming too long. The alerts in the 'Mech's cockpit yelped at her, warning that she'd been locked on by hostile fire control. A moment later, a volley of long-range missiles leapt out toward her. Red lights flashed in the cockpit.
"I know, I know," she said aloud, and put the Pack Hunter into a run toward the Jupiter. She cut to the right, faked left, then halted, braced, and aimed with her micro lasers. Accuracy, she thought, don't fail me now. At the same time she keyed up the mike and broadcast on frequency 136.2, "Heya, big guy. Happy to see me?"
"Delighted," came the response. "You know I'm a sucker for a pretty face."
"Of course you are." The missiles he'd fired exploded harmlessly, but close enough that the fragments spattered against her 'Mech's exterior armor. She sprinted forward again, this time at a diagonal. The Jupiter turned to follow. Another battery of missiles sprang from the big 'Mech's torso- mounted boxes, left and right.
Good, Bishop thought. Keep going like that and you'll use up your long-range stuff while I'm still out here.
She backtracked. No sense being predictable. Even once the missiles were expended, he'd still be carrying two particle projector cannons to her one.
Missiles incoming. Lasers up. Shoot. Two of the missiles in the battery vaporized as the laser beams hit them. The others went wide, sending shock waves through the air around her but missing the Pack Hunter itself. Either I'm better than I ought to be at dodging those things, Bishop thought, or Jack Farrell is a really lousy shot.
The running and the laser expenditure, however, had sent her heat gauge up a bit. Nothing close yet to redline, but enough to register.
"So that's your game," she muttered. "Get me all hot and bothered."
"And easy pickings," came the answer over the radio, and she realized that she'd left the private 'Mech-to-'Mech frequency open. "Care to dance?"
Another battery of missiles inbound. She dodged and ran, using her 'Mech's agility and speed to take her out of the way of the missiles' ballistic trajectory.
"Don't go too far!" came Jack's voice. Even over the scratchy connection, she could tell that he was laughing at her.
"Not much chance of that," she said. "I'm having a good time right here."
She set her lasers on continuous fire, and concentrated on her shooting. Then she spotted another battery of missiles inbound and jumped, straight up, at maximum burn. The missiles exploded below her. She landed hard, going down onto one knee.
The Jupiter was continuing its forward stroll. Now its extended-range particle projector cannon started firing-and about damned time, Bishop thought; if I were riding a Jupiter I'd have been chewing up the landscape with my PPC from the moment the enemy came in sight.
The cannon's hot particles burned a fiery path through the air from Farrell's 'Mech toward hers. Well, she'd see about that. She ran toward him, bobbing left and right. The particle beam crossed her legs with a thud she could feel. Then she was jumping, taking herself up and over, and coming down feet first with a shouted war cry, making herself into a thirty-ton battering ram heading straight down onto the Jupiter's head.
"Hey!" Farrell said. "That isn't in the tactics manual for a Pack Hunter."
"Neither is surrender," she said. "At least not in mine."
She was behind him now, and she set her eight microlasers to firing at a single spot. The spot that she chose was the back of the fighting machine's left knee. She remembered her old unarmed- combat instructor explaining to the new students, "You can always reach a knee."
Her own PPC added to the scrum. The Jupiter started to turn. She turned with it, staying behind, working to keep herself out of reach of the weapons mounted on the larger 'Mech's arms and torso.
She could keep this up forever, she thought, jumping and firing and dodging out of reach to fire and jump again, shooting at Farrell until she burned through his armor, or until the heat overloaded him so much that his 'Mech had to shut down to cool off.
She let a brief fantasy cross her mind: the Jupiter frozen, herself dismounting her own 'Mech to walk across and take possession. Hauling Jack Farrell out into the open, maybe killing him, maybe letting him go. Then getting aboard the Jupiter, picking up her Pack Hunter, and walking back to the Countess of Northwind with a fine gift.
Without warning, the Jupiter fell over backwards onto the ground. What? she thought. Gyro error? Overheated in the midst of walking and stumbled over his own feet? Time to get fancy. She darted forward, swinging the ponderous bulk of her Pack Hunter into a thirty-ton handstand, and from there into a somersault. She ended by sitting a thwart the chest of the fallen Jupiter, its arms pinned to its sides by the knees of her 'Mech.
With her knees pinning the Jupiter's arms so that its deadly autocannon couldn't come into play, provided she could keep him down long enough given that he had a seventy-ton weight advantage . . . she switched to the Highlanders' general frequency and called, "Get me a squad with boarding tools out here pronto!" Then she switched back to the private 'Mech-to-'Mech frequency, even as she leaned forward so that the lasers on her chest pointed directly into the viewscreens of Farrell's cockpit.
"Surrender, Farrell?" she whispered. She flipped the lasers on, a brief pulse, a warning. His faceplate glowed crimson with the effect. Her 'Mech's powerful gripping hands were pressing down on his shoulders. "Or I'll make you do dreadful things."
He kicked up with his legs, both at once, trying to buck her off. She rode him, sliding down to press the Jupiter's hips to the pavement while still keeping his shoulders under the Pack Hunter's hands.
"Naughty," she said. She flipped on the lasers again- a bit longer burn this time- and gave him a brief burst from her PPC. "I can get angry."
"I'm not worried," Jack said. He didn't sound worried, either.
"Then let's cut for it."
"Let's."
He rolled to the left. She was under him now, and he was pressing her down. She felt the hot blast of his extended range PPC firing, the particles boiling chips off of the concrete beside her face.
He's playing with me, damn it, she thought. You'd think he wanted that one to miss!
"Enough," she said. She reached up with her arms and pulled him in close, firing her cannon and all her lasers with their apertures pressed against his armor. She fired them continuously until she felt the Jupiter's body stiffen in her grip, the big 'Mech's inferior heat dissipation unable to keep up with the energy release.
The Jupiter relaxed its grip and fell off her to her left with the sort of ground-shaking concussion that only a hundred-ton heavy could make, and lay on its back unmoving. Bishop rolled to her right, got one of the Pack Hunter's knees under its torso, and pushed herself up to a standing position.
"Do you surrender?" she asked.
"Not yet," he replied. "My troops are heading here right now."
"How many more of the Highlanders are there left to get through the lines?"
"Just yourself," he said, "and those stalwart lads with the can openers, if they get here in time.
The rest of your people ran away as if they were experts. And you're in no condition right now to take on the whole of my mercenary force."
"I took you on," she pointed out.
"True," he said. "But you had functioning weapons then. Now you have melted steel all over the fronts of your lasers. They won't fire. And your cannon doesn't look very good either. So what'll it be? Do you want to be captured, or run?"
"I still beat you," Bishop said.
"Yes, yes," Farrell agreed. "We cut the cards and you turned up the jack of spades, just like you did before."
"Just like I did before- Damn it, Jack Farrell, you threw this fight!" "Bright girl. You figured it out. Now I'm about to give the order to close the corridor. So get moving."
Bishop ran. The infantry squad with its boarding tools saw her coming toward them, and turned and ran as well. At over a hundred kilometers an hour, she didn't take long to reach her lines, on the other side of the city
from the DropPort.
The whole way there, Jack Farrell laughed in her headset.
49
Castle Northwind
Rockspire Mountains
Northwind
February 3134; local winter
Will Elliot had seen plenty of pictures of Castle Northwind in his life. The massive gray stone structure was a popular subject for posters and for glossy pictorial volumes about the scenic glories of beautiful Northwind. The tourists he'd used to guide through the northern Rockspires had often been quite put out to learn that the photogenic castle they'd come so far to see was set in the middle of a large expanse of private land and wasn't available to gawkers. He'd certainly never expected to find himself sitting at a table in the castle's lesser hall, drinking tea with the company Captain and his fellow Sergeants and waiting for word from the Countess.
Lexa McIntosh appeared to agree with him. She poured more tea into a porcelain cup from the big silver teapot and added a lump of sugar with the silver sugar tongs. "It's a long way from Barra Station to a castle in the mountains. Life is good."
"With only three platoons?" Jock Gordon said. "It's not that good."
Will shook his head. "With three platoons we can fight off any scouting forays until the main body arrives."
"That's all very well," the company commander said, "but just in case the good life decides to give us some nasty surprises, I want to wire everything in sight with demolition charges. Starting from the cliffs by the uphill drive, right the way back to the public road."
Lexa's gaze drifted over to the windows as the company commander spoke, and Will saw her eyes narrow. He followed her glance. The long uphill drive to the castle's front entrance ran briefly in view of the windows, but the road when he looked showed nothing visible, either on the pavement or in the snowdrifts to either side.
"What was it?" he asked. Lexa had a sharpshooter's keen sight and noticing eye, and if there'd been something moving on the road a moment before, she'd have seen it.
"Messenger," she said. "On a fast motorcycle. None of your damned hoverbikes."
"Looks like the good life's over with," said the company commander. He set down his tea cup.
"I believe that the three of you should go see what the postman has for us today."
Will and his two friends hurried down to the castle's front entrance, arriving in time to stand together on the granite steps as the motorcycle came into view on the last curves of the uphill road.
The bike was faster than safe and leaning into the curves so hard that it seemed to be lying on its side.
The rider was a man in the uniform of Northwind.
"Message for the company commander," said the messenger.
"Kinda figured that was it," Lexa said. She'd had her laser rifle sighted in on the final curve, and grounded it as she spoke. "Let us have it and we'll carry it up."
The messenger pulled out an envelope with a string seal on it. "I'll need the commander's answer," he said.
"We'll make sure you get it," said Will. He took the envelope. "Wait here. Jock, Lexa-you stay with him."
He carried the sealed envelope back through the castle great hall to the lesser hall where the company commander waited, looking out of the windows at the snowcapped Rockspires and stirring his cup of tea.
"Messenger from central command," Will said with a salute.
"Thanks, Sergeant," the company commander said, returning the salute. He opened the envelope, read the flimsy inside, then put it down. "Please ask the other sergeants to come in. And give this reply to carry back to the Countess and General Griffin. 'We understand." ' "Sir," Will said, saluted again, and left.
A few minutes later he returned with Jock and Lexa. The company commander, who'd been looking out the window at the Rockspires again, turned around to face them.
"This is where things get interesting," he said. "I've just been given some information, and an order. The information is that the main body of the Highlander force will not be coming here after all. I expect that the reason is this: there's only one way in; there's only one way out. If the main body came here, they could be bottled up by anyone holding the end of the pass.
"The order is very simple. We are to prevent the Steel Wolves from taking Castle Northwind.
All means are acceptable. Questions, comments, suggestions, or observations?"
"Blow it up now," Jock said. "With three platoons, we can't hold it."
"We don't want to blow it up until we have to," Will protested. "How about this? Hold it as long as possible, make the Wolves spend time, troops, and materiel, and then blow it."
Lexa nodded agreement. "A fight's a fight. Here or somewhere else. If we destroy the castle, and the bad guys don't show up, then we'll have done it all for nothing, and the Countess will be pissed."
"How do you know that?" Jock asked.
"Because if it was me, and it was my castle, I'd be pissed."
"I'm thinking much the way you are, Sergeant McIntosh," the company commander said. "But all of the solutions involve the possibility of demolishing this structure at one point or another. So we can start by wiring it. Later, other things. But for right now-" "Captain," Will asked, "your message. Did it say when the Steel Wolves would get here?"
"Six hours, maybe eight."
"Doesn't matter," Lexa said. "They won't attack until dawn."
"What makes you say that?" the company commander asked.
"Call it intuition. Anastasia Kerensky is a bitch's bitch. She won't stand off and let her troops take our Countess's own castle in the dark- she'll want to be here to watch the flags go down."
"If there's a good chance she'll show up in person-" "Let me see to my rifle," Lexa said. "If she gets within a mile of me, she's mine."
"Very well," the captain said. "McIntosh, your squad has the road leading in. See to its defenses. Gordon, you have the exterior defenses, as soon as the interior is wired. Elliot, you have interior defense. Help Gordon with the demolition charges, then everyone get some rest. This may be a long night coming."
"Who does he think we are?" Will muttered to Jock as the three sergeants headed down the stairs to give the good word to their platoons. "We already know to sleep every chance we can."
50
Castle Northwind
Rockspire Mountains
Northwind
February 3134; local winter
"As I came in by Fiddich side, on a May morning. . . ." Lexa McIntosh hummed under her breath as she lay on the top of a cliff overlooking the road up to Castle Northwind. She was looking to the south, not silhouetted against the sky, invisible to the road, her laser rifle at her shoulder. The large telescopic sight she'd attached to the front of the rifle showed, in great detail, the line of scout vehicles, armor, and infantry moving up the valley toward Castle Northwind. Lexa ignored the scouts and the infantry troopers; she would only have one shot from this position, and she wanted to make the target worth her while.
All right . . . the tank coming into view around the curve was a Condor, with a full-scale Star Colonel, through the telescopic sight she could make out his rank insignia, standing up in the opened top hatch. She tracked him in her sights, a kilometer and a half away, moving at thirty kilometers an hour. If she'd chosen to use one of the Gauss rifles, she'd have had to lead him a bit, so that he and the projectile would arrive at the same point at the same time. With a laser, she didn't need to, and from this point of vantage, on a clear day like today, she didn't need to worry about leaves or fog interfering with the laser's deadly light. Life, she thought, was all about choices, and this one was going to ruin the Star Colonel's day for him.
"Turn again, turn again, turn again I pray ye. . . ."
She took a breath, let half of it out, held what remained. Her finger tightened on the trigger. The laser's beam flashed out like a reddened spear.
"For if ye burn Auchidoon, Huntley he will slay ye."
The Star Colonel twisted and slid down in the hatch of
his tank, half of his head burnt away.
Lexa closed her eyes, then looked through the sights again. Another vehicle was rounding the bend.
The first tank had slowed and turned off the road.
Time to move to another location.
Lexa rolled away from the edge of the cliff, careful not to skyline herself. As soon as she was out of sight from the road, she rose and moved rapidly away. She was still humming.
"As I came in by Fiddich side, on a May morning, Auchidoon was in a blaze, an hour before the dawning."
In her field headquarters at Tara DropPort, Anastasia Kerensky watched the real-time display on the big tri-vid as her troops drove up the road toward Castle Northwind. With the Highlanders now in full retreat out of the city and scattering into the mountains, she had been able to detach a special armored column and give them specific orders: fulfill her angry promise to Tara Campbell by seizing Castle Northwind and claiming it for the Steel Wolves as spoils of war.
Now, in the first light of early morning, the column had reached the cut leading up to the castle.
Their progress was relayed back to those watching at headquarters by a camera in the third tank back from the head of the column-progress that in the past few minutes had slowed to a crawl.
"What is the reason for the delay?" Anastasia demanded. "And where is Star Colonel Ulan?"
The face on the video terminal replied, "The Star Colonel is dead, Galaxy Commander."
"What happened?"
"We have been taking sporadic sniper fire, Galaxy Commander."
"Has there been any serious resistance, outside of the sniper fire?"
"None."
"Then carry on."
The Warrior saluted, and shortly afterward the column began moving again. The picture in the headquarters display was impressive, even through the flat pickup from a single camera. The castle lay before them, cradled in its glacial valley, its gray bulk touched with a pink glow from the sun rising beyond the mountain peaks. Tendrils of fog rose from the lake at the castle's foot, and the banners of Northwind and The Republic snapped crisply from the upper towers.
The camera shook as the main gun on the Condor fired.
BattleTech MechWarrior Dark Age 05 Truth and Shadows 2003 Page 19
