The hovering VTOL spent several dangerous seconds following Raul's directed fire, punched a gauss slug through the carrier's weakened armor and then spun around to race back south and west.
Both Schmitts pounced, tearing into the carrier's interior even further, and did not shy away until an ammunition magazine ruptured under their hard-hitting rotaries. The Jess's sides bulged outward and then burst. Flipping side-over-side, the disintegrating hulk rolled up against the retreating Behemoth and added impetus to their temporary retreat.
For just that moment, Raul found himself with no viable targets and a nearly open run between the militia line and spaceport tower.
"Best chance we'll ever get, Colonel." He shoved his throttle forward to its stop, lumbering the Jupiter forward at its best speed of fifty-four kph.
Blaire wasted no time doubting Raul's word. "All units, swing echelon left."
VTOLs pressed forward, and a laser-equipped Cyrano fell under the flak-assault from another JES carrier, while most skirmishers dropped back and pulled into their new position. Stealing a quick- march on the Steel Wolves, the militia line swung around in a ragged but effective arc, following Raul's lead and closing the spaceport off from River's End. Their line now held back-to-back with Tassa Kay's smaller force, giving her safe refuge.
Raul toggled his private channel to Tassa Kay, in case she was not already falling back. "All right, Tassa. Lead them out." A waste of breath, as she first sent her damaged vehicles crawling for the safety of the militia lines and then followed in the borrowed Legionnaire. Raul turned back to the battle in time to count up the cost of their maneuver.
His Rangers had overtaken and overturned one of the Shandra scout-runners, but not without losing one of their own to a salvo of concentrated laserfire. Raul had also traded one of his tactical Jessies for a Steel Wolf Scimitar-hardly equitable-and enemy Pack Hunters had nearly cut Captain Diago out of the militia formation. He escaped back to the safety of their formation, but minus a great deal of armor and losing one of his Legionnaire's arms-severed at the elbow by a Hunter PPC.
And worse, Star Colonel Torrent in his Tundra Wolf was left pressing forward right into the weak middle of the militia line. Frustrated with Raul's evasion of any straight-up match, now the star colonel took it out on a nearby APC. Breaking the Saxon in less than ten seconds, scattering its load of Purifier infantry with well-placed kicks, he then turned his heavy firepower on the militia's mobile HQ, and Colonel Blaire.
Blaire had organized the enticing weak middle in case Torrent went for it early on in the fight, allowing the militia to encircle and neutralize the Steel Wolf commander once and for all. Up to and including the arrival of Tassa's force at the city edge, that might have worked in their favor. Now it threatened to unravel their final maneuvers, should Torrent manage to split the militia line.
"Fill that gap," Raul ordered. "They break though, and we're done!" They had to hold. Hold and wait, as Tassa lured the Swordsworn out of the city's edge.
Their modified ForestryMech made an attempt, stalking in between Torrent and the Tribune.
Autocannon chipping away some of the Tundra Wolf's armor, the pilot managed to draw Torrent's attention long enough for the HQ to fall back a safe distance. Before Torrent could vent his full ire on the Forestry Mod, however, Raul stalked forward of the formation and lined up a long-range shot, carving one of his particle cannons into the Tundra's flank.
It worked. Torrent shifted his BattleMech's weight and turned it for the Jupiter. "Raul Ortega.
You have deviled me for the last time."
Raul swallowed dryly. "If you can't keep up, don't blame me. Hold on and I'll call off the dogs." Switching over to the militia's all-hands frequency, he ordered, "Lay off the Tundra. Let him come." Then a dozen missiles cratered his Jupiter's lower legs, and Raul once again fought to remain standing. Recovering, he back-pedaled, returning to his place in line and drawing the star colonel after.
His fury unleashed, Torrent made his earlier displeasure known by keeping up a sustained rate of heavy fire as he stalked down the militia line. Missiles, laser, missiles again. With the militia units leaving off the Tundra Wolf as a target, the star colonel ignored all but Raul. A distinction of sorts, and one the MechWarrior might have felt better about had not the Tundra's place at the center of the militia line not been filled almost immediately by the PPC-toting Pack Hunters. The Steel Wolves fielded too many 'Mechs for the militia to keep them contained much longer.
In the meantime, Torrent advanced. And with him, drawn in his wake like filings to a lodestone, came the Steel Wolf line.
Fighting side by side with Tassa now, their BattleMechs facing different directions as each concentrated on a different enemy, Raul checked his head's up display and saw that the two of them formed the point of a new, thin wedge. Squeezed in between the Swordsworn and Steel Wolves, Tassa sniped at Erik Sandoval while Raul held up under Torrent's determined assault. Only a slender line of militia forces connected them back to the spaceport's northwest corner. It was time.
Such orders should be given with dramatic presentation. Some kind of timeless oration that would stand up to history. Or so Raul had once thought. Now it was with a strange mixture of relief and disappointment that he opened up a channel and simply said, "Tassa. Now."
Like a steeply pitched tent with its supporting prop yanked out from beneath it, the militia wedge folded back in on itself as Raul and Tassa herded scurrying infantry and wounded vehicles before them. Raul opened up his general channel. "Retrograde maneuver," he ordered. Colonel Blaire seconded the command, and began handing out the secondary assignments, which would pull the entire militia force back into a strong, secure fist.
The idea was to swing the Swordswornand Steel Wolf line into close proximity. One errant missile, a laser stabbed in at their former enemies: it wouldn't take much. But first they had to maneuver into close range.
Tassa was the first one to notice. "Raul. It's not working."
Raul rocked back three hurried steps as Torrent sliced a small laser beam across the shield protecting the Jupiter's cockpit. Molten ferroglass streaked down and recrystalized. Raul blinked to clear his vision of the ghost image temporarily burned into his retina. "Give it time."
As the militia continued to fall back, too often leaving a body or the fire-gutted shell of another vehicle behind, the Swordsworn and Steel Wolves were drawn forward, ever closer to each other. At the base of the collapsing formation, in fact, retreating soldiers reinforced each side, spreading the wings out in a north-south push that shoved the factions into three wedges of an asymmetrical pie
The Steel Wolves were still the largest, but it was the militia who fought on two fronts. So far
"Ortega . . ." Blaire's warning growled in Raul's ears.
Someone else not privy to the officer's worries noticed yet another problem. "The Wolves are getting up aerospace fighters."
That was true. With the militia finally pushed completely away from the taxiing strip, a squadron of four fightercraft rolled out from beneath the protective wings of theTriumph -class DropShip. Once in the air, with daylight to gauge their strafing runs, the Steel Wolves would heap more misery onto the militia's plate.
"VTOLs!" Raul knew he was sending good men and women to their deaths, but knew as well that Achernar wasn't quite done demanding its sacrifice. "Forward and harass the fighters. Buy us time." Two Yellow Jackets and the one remaining Cyrano thundered forward. The Cyrano never made it over the enemy formation, swatted down by a Catapult's multiple missile barrages.
Still the Swordsworn and Steel Wolves pressed in, close to fighting side-by-side now and hardly acknowledging each other's presence. An SM1 nipped in and cut a leg from their ForestryMech, sending it crashing to the tarmac. Diago cut in on the senior officers channel. "Raul, maybe we should think about-".
"It'll work," Raul promised, cutting him off. "Give it time." He dropped crosshairs over the Tundra Wolf's outline, lashing out with PPCs and
running another ton of molten armor over the field ferrocrete. It had to work. Achernar was out of choices, and out of time.
River's End/San Marino Spaceport
Achernar
Erik Sandoval-Groell had nearly given up on the Legionnaire, counting it and the rest of the raiding party as lost once it cleared the capital's southeast industrial sector ahead of him.
On a private channel Erik railed at Michael Eus, who had set the entrapment the way he saw fit rather than as Erik had directed. The operations manager had many hidden talents, and even more hidden loyalties, but military planning did not rate highly among them. He had tried to close the net with slower-moving, tracked vehicles, thinking that their heavier armor would mitigate any losses.
Even a first-year cadet understood that one used fast-response craft to pin an enemy in place, then rolled in the heavy guns to obliterate them.
Erik's rage was short-lived, however, the heat draining from his face when he gained the city's edge and found his forces holding off repeated attempts by the Legionnaire to regain the capital.
Adding his own autocannon into the defensive enfilade, the young noble concentrated on the Legionnaire or one of the modified IndustrialMechs whenever possible. After he personally laid out the converted LoaderMech, his crosshairs found no other target than the Legionnaire.
As that BattleMech pulled back from the city, joining the rest of the militia force on the outskirts of the San Marino landing field, Erik cautiously followed rather than be denied his due after the treacherous attempt. Between his Swordsworn's carefully laid fire patterns and the brute-force cascade of firepower spreading out from the Steel Wolves, slowly they hammered the Republic's wedge flat and then caved it in. Likely they could have continued on until little was left of the Achernar militia but memories and a ready garrison post for Swordsworn forces to occupy.
Might have, in fact, except for a daring Shandra scout vehicle that shied too close onto Erik's flank in trying to avoid a passing Yellow Jacket gunship.
With casual need, Erik ordered up a pair of hoverbikes to birddog the Shandra, run it off. Light weapons fire stitched dark holes in its side armor, and was returned with interest as twin, ten- millimeter gatlings burned one driver from the hoverbike's seat.
Setting his jaw, teeth grinding together at the death of another Swordsworn warrior, Erik felt the warm flush return as he leveled his powerful Imperator autocannon at the Shandra and shattered its rear drive train with a long, deadly burst of hot metal.
And Erik might have let it go at that. He had not wanted to waste a precious amount of his dwindling ammunition supply on the Shandra, except that it had demanded some response from him as their leader and-when necessary-avenger.
He tensed when the alarms wailed their warning blast only seconds before the missiles hit all around his position. A half dozen smashed into the side of his Hatchetman's elongated head, rocking it to one side like a prizefighter caught by a series of left hooks. The cockpit shook violently, body- checking Erik against his harness straps until a seam ripped and Erik slid half out of his command couch.
Neurofeedback works two ways: for the MechWarrior, when he can use his own sense of balance to help a stressed gyroscope; against him, when any personal dizziness or faulted equilibrium is translated into a signal that is then used to alter the gyro's normal function.
Erik's vision swam and his gut clenched up as the Hatchetman toppled over. He heard the shouts of alarm on the comms system, could imagine his warriors turning quickly to his aid, and opened his mouth to countermand their likely actions.
Then the BattleMech struck against the ground, keeling over on its side and jarring Erik most the rest of the way out of his seat. Scraping along, it rattled the hapless MechWarrior against his faulty harness. The world dimmed to gray tones and blurred angles. Not long. Only for a few seconds.
And by the time Erik had fought his way back to full senses, it was already too late.
San Marino Spaceport
Achernar
Star Colonel Torrent heard the alarm, that the Swordsworn had also turned on his warriors.
Heard it, noted the expected treachery, and filed it away for future consideration.
Chopping the Jupiter down to size filled his entire consciousness, and he pursued that goal almost to the exclusion of all else. The militia tactics hardly mattered, and even the threat of two Yellow Jacket gunships thundering after his vulnerable aerospace fighters did not drag him away from his personal challenge.
Then his Behemoth crew reported that they had felled Sandoval's Hatchetman, and Torrent was forced to take notice if for no other reason than to confirm that one of the Steel Wolves' primary opponents on Achernar was finished.
Erik Sandoval was down, though far from finished. And Torrent himself became personally involved a few seconds later when two Swordsworn Jessies layered four score long-ranged missiles over his position. Blackened, smoking gravel pelted his 'Mech as warheads gouged the ferrocrete tarmac, and the Tundra Wolf shook with forced palsy as fire blossomed along his chest and shoulders.
Too many times today other units had forced their attention on Torrent, interfering with his second Trial against the Jupiter and against Raul Ortega, the only MechWarrior so far to walk away from him in combat. Anger twisted the star colonel's face into a snarl as he dropped crosshairs over one of the Swordsworn Mining Mods. A flight of missiles and two slices with his Series 7 laser-left, right-and the Mod lost the arm carrying its rock-cutting blade.
More Swordsworn had turned against the Steel Wolf position, drilling lasers and streams of autocannon fire into their ranks. Torrent divided a few seconds in between his head's up display and what he saw through his own ferroglass shield, then barked out his first of three orders.
"All 'Mechs, press the militia." He might lose a Pack Hunter, maybe one of his modified IndustrialMechs, but Ortega's people would know they had been struck. "Star Commander Orvits," he called up one of his remaining JES carries, "swat those Yellow Jackets and protect the aerospace fighters." He might need the air support after all.
"Star Captain Demos, destroy the Swordsworn and prepare to move on River's End at once!"
By the time this battle was over, there would be very little left in their way. He would make certain of that, starting-and finally finishing-with the Jupiter.
River's End/San Marino Spaceport
Achernar
"I think we've got them."
Pulling back in the face of Star Colonel Torrent's renewed assault, Raul targeted the advancing Tundra Wolf with PPC arcs while keeping an eye on his auxiliary monitor. He saw a few shots traded between Swordsworn and Steel Wolves, enough to put him on pins and needles until a Steel Wolf SM1 Destroyer led an entire star of heavy vehicles into Erik Sandoval's flank.
"That's it, Tassa. Now go!"
The Legionnaire surged forward on new legs, barely favoring its ruined left knee actuator. Tassa called to her side what was left of her squad-a Condor, Joust and Demon. No IndustrialMech conversions this time. And no APCs followed her. If everything had gone even half-according to plan earlier, the Trooper transports had dropped armored infantry squads near the HPG station and were already waiting in place.
This time there were far fewer defenders to stand in her way. The reconstituted lance drove back around the end of the Swordsworn line, caught their mobile HQ on the edge of River's End, and blasted their way past it in less time than it took Raul to lose Torrent's Tundra Wolf for what was likely his last opportunity.
Erik Sandoval's mobile HQ was not the only one in trouble. Torrent's Pack Hunters had finally slipped their leash, leaping forward on jump jets to savage the militia middle, relying on their excellent speed to dodge back when necessary, and then bounding forward yet again.
Colonel Blaire was in trouble, but had nowhere to call for help. Diago had his hands full with aCatapult and an AgroMech Mod. Blaire's hoverbike escorts held back a lumbering ConstructionMech conversion, but likely not for much
longer the way both vehicles slewed around, spilling critical air from damaged lift skirts.
Raul waded in with PPCs arcing out manmade lightning and his autocannons blazing with extra-long pulls, hammering lethal metal into a Hunter again, and again. Both Pack Hunter BattleMechs spun around, kicking themselves up over one hundred kilometers per hour in order to close rapidly on the assault machine. Or at least, for one of them to do so. Blaire ordered his Tribune turned into the path of the second, stalling it for several critical seconds.
A mobile HQ vehicle is slow and awkward, never meant for tactical maneuvers, but as a temporary wall it served. Raul faced down the single, thirty-ton machine with something less than trepidation. He rode lightly on his triggers, still running high heat from matching earlier salvoes with the Tundra Wolf, but even so a single PPC and paired autocannons could be devastating.
The Pack Hunter shed armor the way a true wolf might lose its winter coat. Its return fire cut a dangerous swath of armor from Raul's gyro housing to the left shoulder, but failed to penetrate into the Jupiter's critical equipment.
Eight minilasers created more trouble for Raul, blistering paint and armor from half a dozen places and coring one weak beam directly into Jove's head. Raul could smell the ozone discharge, and something more, caustic yet sweet. As he flushed with warmth, suddenly conscious of the sweat standing out on his chest draining down his sides, he realized that the Hunter had crippled his life support system, somewhere rupturing a coolant line.
With no time for niceties and not about to take another biting return, Raul risked the heat and blasted the Pack Hunter. Lightning scoured armor away from the other 'Mech's chest and upper arms.
If the Steel Wolf warrior thought that he'd get so lucky twice, though, Raul dissuaded him of that notion as autocannons ripped in and mangled the Hunter's gyroscope into scrap. The Pack Hunter quivered, staggered awkwardly to the left, and then collapsed like an unstrung puppet.
BattleTech : Mechwarrior - Dark Age 02 - A Call to Arms (2003) Page 26
