Some of those sprawled human forms were still alive, too, and the sounds of their screams added a chilling and surreal background to the scene. Alex raised his right arm and lasered one man who might have been wounded, but who'd been cradling a laser rifle in his arms. There was no room here for gallantry, not when the margin between success and death was so narrow.
With the barbican and gate towers apparently secure, his major concern now was the open, fifteen-meter doorway leading into the Citadel's heart. Wilmarth possessed at least four 'Mechs for sure. Chances were, they were stored in a 'Mech bay somewhere behind those carballoy steel doors and would be emerging from them any moment now. It had been several moments since Alex had detected any movement in that direction. Several bodies in the opening marked the last attempt by Wilmarth's troopers to rush through the door into the open.
It would take time to ready a 'Mech to deal with the intruders. Only about ten minutes had passed since the first shot had been fired—an eternity in combat, but too short a time to saddle up a 'Mech and get it rolling if it was down and cold. Unless Wilmarth had one waiting on ready-ten— rather unlikely given the level of professionalism of most of his troops, but Alex and McCall had been forced to consider the possibility—the two raiders would be long gone by the time the Governor's warriors could climb into their machines, power them up, and get them moving. Still, each passing moment made it more likely that one or more of the Bloodspiller 'Mechs would be putting in an appearance soon. Alex consulted the time readout displayed on his visor HUD: 2316 ... no, 2317 now. Come on, McCall! Where the hell are—
"Gray Skull Two! Gray Skull Two!" McCall's voice said suddenly over Alex's headset. "We're comin' up. What's it look like oot there?"
"Major!" he cried. "Thank God! It's been pretty hot up here, but there's not much going on right now. Barbican and gate tower are neutralized, along with the gun turrets."
"Good job! I've got something like eighty people here," McCall said. "Can we make it to the front gate, do you think?"
"It's clear at the moment," Alex replied, taking one last look around. "But the Citadel's main door is open, and I imagine they'll be sending some scary stuff through pretty soon now."
"Roger that. Get ready, laddie. We're coming out! Now!" Alex raised the grenade launcher, aiming it squarely at the open Citadel door. "Got you covered, Major. Go! Go!"
* * *
McCall palmed open the kitchen access door and stepped across the body of the soldier still lying there on the floor, his arm up and shifting quickly left and right as he checked each corner, each shadow beyond for ambush or the unexpected. The courtyard beyond was blanketed by smoke, a battle fog so thick that the Citadel's gate tower and ramparts were visible only as vague black shadows behind the glare of a few remaining spotlights and some burning vehicles. The scene was completely transformed from what it had been like when McCall had ventured through this door minutes earlier. Alex Carlyle had been busy.There was no movement, no sign of any life at all.
"The man says go," McCall told the crowd of people filling the passageway at his back. "You!" He pointed to Angus. "See the gate tower, right through there?"
"Yes, Davis. I see it."
"Head for it, and don't stop for anything. You!" He pointed to the woman next in line. "Follow him. The rest of you, follow the one in front, one at a time. Fast as you can, now. Go! Go! Go!"
* * *
Alex saw the first of the released prisoners emerge from the shadows at the base of the Citadel keep, followed closely by another, and another ... a long chain of ragged, staggering humanity striking out across the smoke-wreathed plain of the ferrocrete-paved courtyard. They were crossing from his left to his right, passing between his station next to the Pegasus and the Citadel's open main doors.
That was a mistake. If Wilmarth's troopers emerged from the Citadel now, the freed prisoners would be squarely in the crossfire. Too late to correct for that now, though. Lightly, Alex vaulted up onto the rear deck of the Pegasus to get a better view.
It was almost impossible to see anything. Alex shifted his helmet electronics from IR to light amplification to straight optics but could make out little beyond the line of running people and the pulsing red glow of the red-alert lights still strobing inside the entrance to the keep. From his new observation post, Alex had a good, clear line of sight to the keep's gates, but the smoke from burning vehicles was so thick he could see almost nothing.
Movement ...
He shifted back to IR, grimaced, and shifted once more, trying to get a computer enhancement of what he'd thought he'd seen. Was it... yes! A shadow. A towering, impossible shadow moving across the throb of the red light inside the keep's entranceway tunnel.
Gunfire flashed in the opening; several of the running civilians in the courtyard screamed and dropped to the pavement. Beyond them, in the main doors, something very large was moving, with a familiar hiss-chirp of grating ferrofibrous armor.
Then the BattleMech lumbered into view, neatly framed by the open keep doors. And the fleeing civilians began to panic.
16
Citadel Courtyard
Caledonia, Skye March
Federated Commonwealth
2318 hours, 1 April 3057
It was an UrbanMech, squat and ugly, looking more like some monstrous, round-topped kitchen appliance on legs than a BattleMech. Instead of arms and hands it had weapons, an Imperator-B autocannon on the right, a Harmon small laser on the left. It was closely trailed by a dozen armored troopers as it lurched into the open.
UrbanMechs massed only thirty tons, but they were slow for their size and difficult to maneuver. Created for combat in close, built-up areas and narrow streets hemmed in by tall buildings, their design concentrated on armor rather than speed, on firepower rather than maneuverability. In 'Mech-to-'Mech combat, most MechWarriors thought of them as dead meat—easy kills. Against ground troops, however—or against a scattering mob of former prisoners fleeing for their lives—they were deadly.
Alex let fly with a long, full-auto burst from his grenade launcher, firing above the heads of the civilians, but the volley was to knock down the troops following the UrbanMech into the courtyard, not to damage the 'Mech itself. Even an UrbanMech had armor enough to harmlessly deflect the blasts of microgrenades—or the baby laser Alex had strapped to his arm.
A line of explosions uprooted chunks of pavement in the UrbanMech's wake and sent Wilmarth's troops tumbling left and right. The 'Mech stopped, its upper torso pivoting with a grating whine of machinery, the big autocannon swinging into line with Alex's position. Its pilot probably couldn't see Alex's Nighthawk suit, but the 'Mech's Dalban tracking and targeting computer would have picked up his muzzle flash and painted it on the MechWarrior's HUD inside a flashing red cursor.
Time to leave.
Triggering his jump jets, Alex rose from the deck of the Pegasus, sailing low across several other parked vehicles as the UrbanMech's autocannon opened fire with a rolling, crackling burst of fire.
Pieces of vehicle sprayed through the air; a light truck exploded in flames, and eye-dazzling blasts gouged craters in the ferrocrete wall beyond. Alex was already clear, however, lightly touching down close by the inner door of the barbican. McCall was there already, braced against the inner door, waving civilians through with an urgent, up-and-down pumping of his arm.
"You get him?" Alex called.
"Aye," McCall said, and Alex saw him grin behind his narrow helmet visor. "Aye, though we dinnae hae time for a reunion. He's already ootside."
Alex looked into the gate tower. The outer door was already open, he saw, its security control panel inside the barbican ripped open and hot-wired to bypass the locking codes. Civilians were racing past the two Legion officers and into the night outside the Citadel, but a good many others had scattered to hiding places inside the courtyard, their retreat cut off by the thirty-ton 'Mech. Standing in the smoke-wreathed courtyard, twisting its torso back and forth as it scanned for its vanish
ed target, the 'Mech almost gave the impression of being confused. Still, unarmored humans would stand no chance if they tried to run through that monster's field of fire.
"How many more civilians are there?" Alex asked McCall.
"I dinnae ken, lad," McCall replied. "I dinnae hae time for an exact count. But there's thirty or forty at least who didn't make it past tha' hulkin' brute."
"We can't just leave them." He gestured toward one of the stakes in the courtyard with a human body impaled on it like a side of meat hanging from a hook. "If Wilmarth gets his bloody hooks into them again ..."
"Aye. But can th' two of us take on a 'Mech?" McCall gestured at the UrbanMech, still standing like a somewhat befuddled giant in front of the keep's main doors. "Even the likes a' tha' silly thing?"
Their operational plan had depended on getting in and out of the Citadel before Wilmarth could get his 'Mechs up and running. According to what they'd worked out that afternoon, it was time now to slip out the front gate and vanish into the night. Any moment now, more 'Mechs would arrive from the depths of Wilmarth's fortress, and then the courtyard would become a killing ground.
But all those people ...
"There's one way," Alex said, gripping the elbow of McCall's power suit. "Stay here to guide the rest of them out. I'll take care of the 'Mech."
"Alex! What d' ye think you're doin?"
"Trust me, Major! I'll be right back!" Alex pulled away before McCall could try to stop him, triggering his jump jets and sailing back across the courtyard. The UrbanMech sensed the movement and pivoted sharply, laser and autocannon firing in rapid, alternating bursts. Touching down behind the overturned hull of a wrecked armored car, Alex pulled out a scatter toss, set the timer for fifteen seconds, and hurled it as hard as he could past the looming shadow of the UrbanMech. The thirty-ton monster was advancing on him now, step upon ponderous step, its upper torso swiveling back and forth with a power-tool whine. The seconds ticked away ... and then the scatter toss erupted in a clattering chain of explosions among the wreckage and debris behind the slow-moving 'Mech. Shrapnel pinged off its rear hull armor; a burned-out groundcar chassis toppled over with a crash.
The UrbanMech paused, almost as if it was considering this new piece of input, then slowly swung about to face the chattering pops and blasts of the submunitions grenade. Alex was up and running once more, zigzagging through the wreckage back to the Pegasus scout tank even before the machine had completely turned away. There it was! Autocannon rounds had slammed into its port-side armor, piercing its skirts and opening several ugly craters in the polished upper hull, but the vehicle's paired dorsal missile turrets were still intact, the blunt tips of the Starstreak heavy SRMs visible in the launch tubes.
Alex vaulted onto the upper deck, looking for the hatch. There ... just forward of the launchers! It was locked, of course, requiring a keycard or a coded radio signal to open it up. Bending over, Alex grasped the hatch handhold and began pulling with a heavy, steady pressure.
The actuators of his power suit whined protest as he threw his back into the effort, harder .. . harder . . . and still harder. He'd just begun wondering if he'd misjudged the strength of the hatch-locking mechanism when there was a sharp ping, and then a ratcheting crash as a locking bar tore free and the hatch swung up and open.
Dropping inside, he palmed a pressure plate to switch on the cockpit lights, then took a quick look around.
The Pegasus was still one of the most popular and common of all reconnaissance vehicles throughout the Inner Sphere, though, like this one, it was increasingly found in service with backwater militias. Normally, it carried a crew of four—driver, gunner, radioman/scanner tech, and commander, but it could be handled easily enough by one man. The cockpit area was surprisingly roomy, though Alex had to stoop low as he made his way forward to the main control console. Squeezing into the driver's seat, he ran his gaunt-Ieted fingers across the touch-sensitive input boards and was rewarded by a galaxy of red and amber lights and a rising power hum as the machine went into its automated start-up cycle. Monitors switched on one after the other, each displaying a different view of the flame-seared night outside, some in visual optic ranges, others in IR or starlight.
Weapons might well be a problem, since he didn't have the proper authorization and release codes, but there might be another way. As the Pegasus continued powering up, the red and amber lights shifting block by block to green, Alex leaned over to the gunner's station, reached beneath the console, and pulled off an access panel.
A spaghetti tangle of wires and circuit boards spilled onto the deck. Alex fished among the power feeds and cables for a moment, before finding a test jack-pad wired to the main bus feed.
Three power feed cables that unreeled from a panel on Alex's backpack clicked smoothly into external jackports.
Flipping open a protective cover on a ten-key numeric pad mounted on his left arm, Alex entered a series of digits. His suit's computer took over from there, sending a series of test codes through the Pegasus's fire-control system at lightning speed.
It was more than possible this wouldn't work. If it didn't, Alex would be reduced to using the tank itself as a giant, low-flying missile. That might be necessary in any case, but things would be a lot easier if he could tap into the hover vehicle's considerable on-board firepower.
A roar thundered through the hover tank's hull, and the vehicle rocked violently, slamming Alex from one side of the console station to the other and back. He glanced up at one of the monitors, and saw the UrbanMech standing less man fifty meters away, its autocannon bearing straight at the parked tank as it blazed away, hurling round after round. Explosions detonated on the Pegasus's hull. The UrbanMech's sensors must have picked up the power surge from the hover tank's systems, and its pilot was trying to destroy the vehicle before Alex could bring all of its drive and weapons systems on-line.
A trio of savage explosions bucked the Pegasus hard to the right, rocking the vehicle from side to side. With a rising whine of turbine fans, the tank's skirts began to fill as the plenum chamber pressurized. Another explosion struck the hull, and this time the vehicle skittered to the right, floating on air rather than scraping across the pavement. Quickly, Alex grabbed the steering tiller and corrected for the drift. The Pegasus was listing at a ten-degree angle to the left and slightly bow down ... the result, he realized, of air spilling out of the plenum chamber through a skirt that had been holed on that side like swiss cheese. On the monitor, he could see the 'Mech striding forward, autocannon blazing. A dozen lights on Alex's consoles were flashing red, indicating damage to hull armor, to commo antennas, to scanners and headlights ...
Then a new pattern of winking lights flashed green, these projected across the left-hand side of his helmet's visor HUD, reporting that his code feed had been received by the Pegasus's weapons computer, that the tank's SRMs were safety-off and ready for launch.
With one hand, he steadied the hovercraft's tiller; with the other, he keyed in a firing code. Alone, without a gunner, he had to aim the tank's twin turrets by a rough-and-ready point-and-shoot guestimate, pointing the entire tank rather than each turret independently, but at this range, precision of aim wasn't all that necessary for accuracy.
Alex punched in the final release, sending a coded signal through the feedjacks. The hover tank shuddered as its port-side missile launcher lit up his surroundings in a day-bright glare, and the first short-range missile slid off its launch rail and streaked across the compound.
He waited, marking the flight of the first round, watching, then exulting as it slammed squarely into the UrbanMech's right side, just below the Imperator cannon's armored mount. In rapid-fire succession, he triggered five more shots. The second warhead missed, streaking on a trail of fire past the UrbanMech's right leg and exploding inside the tunnel entrance, where it scattered the infantrymen who were still cowering there. The next four hammered into the 'Mech's side and torso one after the other, the strobe of detonating warheads poppi
ng in the half-darkness like flashbulbs. Armor plate tore and spun away. The UrbanMech returned fire with a steady thud-thud-thud from its autocannon, sending high-explosive shells crashing indiscriminately into parked vehicles and the rampart walls and the Pegasus's armored hull. Alex engaged the tank's main thruster fans, angling the craft forward, out from under the scything blast of the 'Mech's autocannon fire.
The hover tank's bow scraped the pavement with a grating screech and flashing sparks, but Alex got the vehicle moving, steering it around a parked cargo carrier and into the open. The UrbanMech followed, clumsily. It triggered its laser, and a beam flared across the hover tank's starboard side, scouring armor.
Alex dragged the tiller hard to the right, and the Pegasus rotated in place, bringing its second loaded SRM turret to bear. The UrbanMech lurched forward just as he triggered a second volley of SRMs at nearly point-blank range. The blasts were so close that the Pegasus was buffeted by the shock waves, which sent the machine drifting backward on its hissing cushion of air. Alex pulled the tiller back, bringing the unexpected motion under control, then using it, putting even more distance between himself and his clumsy pursuer.
The UrbanMech followed, and Alex grinned. His maneuvering had drawn the enemy 'Mech away from the center of the courtyard, and he could see the remaining civilians, the men and women who'd been trapped inside the Citadel courtyard by the UrbanMech's arrival, making their way in small groups toward the gate tower and freedom.
Tactics of Duty Page 18
