Mercenary's Star

by William H. Keith

  Lori relaxed in the embrace of her Locust's command chair, letting the smooth, flowing strides of the swift machine cradle her thoughts. She remembered Grayson Carlyle's urgency as he'd called them together, his passion in urging that they follow the rebel column. They'd burst into the cavern area where their ‘Mechs were kept, surprising and disarming the rebel guards posted there. Then the Gray Death Techs and support personnel had hastily armed and powered them up.

  What was it about Grayson that drove him so? All of them shared his concern about the youngsters being thrown into battle, but he seemed like a man possessed. Was he convinced that their first fight would break them, and he wanted to be there to pick up the pieces?

  Perhaps it was a little of both. She remembered his concern for her as she'd tried to piece together the shards of her own warrior's soul after Thunder Rift. He'd helped her pick up those pieces, though he probably didn't realize it. The skirmish at Hunter's Cape had had been so sharp and quick that it was over before she'd even remembered to be afraid. The fact that she'd come through without once hesitating gave her confidence, convinced her that she could still function in combat. The horror that had nearly claimed her at Thunder Rift remained, as did her fears and secret nightmares. What Lori was learning was that she could live with them and be a warrior in spite of them.

  Grayson's presence in the cramped cockpit of the Shadow Hawk at Hunter's Cape had helped, as did the knowledge that he did care for her. The thought of Grayson filled her with a pleasant warmth, but Lori forced her thoughts back to the present moment and to their mission.

  There was little time left Picking their way through the rubble with sure-footed, IR-guided steps, the Gray Death Legion raced toward Regis.

  * * * *

  As Thorvald's army approached the walls of the University, all was dark except for pinpoints of light gleaming here and there among the University towers. Men, vehicles, and the ragged line of lumbering rebel BattleMechs picked their way across the field, their goal a low line of storage buildings less than a kilometer ahead. The whispering grass of the savannah gave way at last to a macadam groundcar road and the orderly fields of a local farmer's blueleaf crop.

  One moment all was dark and still. The next moment the sky flashed with light so briliant that it was as though night were suddenly transformed to noon. Rebel soldiers on the ground froze in place, squinting up into the light of multiple high-intensity flares. The BattleMechs hesitated, edged now in blazing radiance that left them standing in their own black shadows. A babble of voices flooded over Thorvald's command circuit as the AgroMech pilots, lacking military-type cutouts on their night vision devices, went blind in the flares' artificial day. Before Thorvald could issue an order, bolts of laser fire and shells began falling among the rebel troops and ‘Mechs.

  The fire came from three directions, from the top of the northern wall of the University and from out of the blackness on either side. Thorvald whirled his Warhammer to starboard, raking the darkness with ragged, blue-green bolts from his twin PPCs. His own night vision devices were almost useless against the pulsing bursts of gunfire and destruction. He triggered his radar, but the screen showed only the blizzard of a strong, jamming source that must be very close.

  A piercing scream wailed into his earpiece from someone on the command commo circuit. Nearby, a four-legged LoggerMech collapsed onto its forward knees, its broad but lightly armored back shredded like tissue and ablaze with the flame of incendiary warheads. Internal explosions ripped through the big ‘Mech's belly, scattering chunks of armor and broken driver mechanism into the night. The screams on the command circuit were chopped off as fresh flame and debris geysered from the machine's cockpit. With searchlight beams zigzagging through the chaos, the whole scene of fire, night, and smoke was Dantean in its horror. Machine gun fire from the walls spat at small parties of rebels huddled among the debris of wrecked vehicles and cratered ground, while the deadly red blossom of an exploding fireball rose from a rebel ammunition hover craft.

  Within the first ten seconds, Thorvald knew there was no hope of winning through to the Rangers' objective, that the entire plan of slipping into the citadel of the University was dead. Within another five seconds, his only worry would be how to extract his command from the jaws of an ambush that was closing in from left and right. The overhead flares died away, leaving the battlefield lit eerily with fires sputtering among the hulks of shattered machines, and burning trees and patches of grass, the stabs of particle beams, and the crisscrossing patterns of tracers. Other ‘Mechs could be seen in the strobe-flashes of cannon fire and explosions now. There was at least a full company on either flank, and they were moving now to surround the Rangers, the trap complete.

  "All units!" Thorvald snapped into the command circuit. "All units, this is Ranger One! Disengage! Repeat, disengage! Fall back and regroup!"

  Perhaps the most difficult of military maneuvers, an orderly retreat under fire was far beyond the capabilities of most of the

  Ranger Mech Warriors. Pinned down by savage fire, disoriented, many in near-shock at the sudden violence unleashed around them, they could only crouch their ‘Mechs against lightning-blasted ground or keep them moving toward the imagined shelter of the University's north wall. A second LoggerMech was in flames now. A third squatted back on useless, shell-torn hind legs, bracing its forelegs against the dirt as it raked the darkness mindlessly with its hastily rigged machineguns. Bullets sparked and sang from ferro-crete walls and the armor of advancing Kurita ‘Mechs.

  Thorvald sent PPC fire scorching into an enemy Marauder hulking in the shadows just beyond an overturned skimmer burning in its own fuel. It had to be an enemy ‘Mech, for there were no Marauders among the rebel ‘Mechs. He was certain that he had seen at least three of the 75-ton behemoths edging closer for the kill.

  Thorvald had scored a hit. As explosions flashed across the Marauder's flank, it halted in mid-stride, turned, and leveled a barrage of charged particles and laser bolts that staggered the Warhammer. In his earpiece, alarms signalled rising temperatures and overloaded circuits. For an eternity of seconds, the two war machines stood there, a scant hundred meters apart, pouring fire into one another. Then the Marauder sidestepped Thorvald's fire and opened a devastating barrage at a Ranger HarvestMech. With a dozen well-placed autocannon shots at the ‘Mech's spindly legs and scantily armored hull, the Marauder crippled the light agricultural machine, then lurched off into darkness.

  Thorvald cursed once, then slapped the switch that cut on his ‘Mech's left shoulder spotlight. The light made him a better target, of course, but it tied directly into his machine's O/P 1500 ARB tracking system which transformed the Warhammer into a deadly nightfighter. The beam of white light transfixed the Marauder in the midst of pursuing scattering clots of infantry with sweeping bursts from its medium lasers. Thorvald bellowed triumph and triggered a salvo of SRMs at his target, then released paired bursts from his PPCs. The Marauder stumbled, seemed to hesitate, then fell, an already damaged leg crumpling under Thorvald's fire as he rumbled in his Warhammer toward the crippled enemy.

  Just then, something struck him from behind, with a force so powerful that it picked up Thorvald's ‘Mech and hurled it forward.

  The impact threw him against his harness, and the feedback from the Warhammer's balance sensors had him reeling. On pure instinct, he rolled his ‘Mech aside, searching for a target.

  More fire was probing toward him from the University wall, autocannon shells exploding in gouts of smoke, flame, and whining fragments of metal that rattled across the Warhammer's hull. He shifted weight to his ‘Mech's left arm to lever himself up and found that the load-bearing joint that supported his left-arm PPC had taken a direct hit. The weapon was still attached, but dangled uselessly, the power feed and drive mechanisms spilling like black spaghetti from rents in the joint armor. His searchlight was gone, too, torn away in that first armor-shredding blast.

  Somehow, he got the Warhammer to its feet Red and flashing
amber fault lights lit the system status indicators on his consoles. Temperature warnings shrieked in his earpiece and wrote themselves in fiery letters across his heads-up display. Coolant leaks were draining his machine of its life's blood, sending its internal temperatures soaring.

  Thorvald's Warhammer could not take much more.

  18

  The Gray Death ‘Mechs were still ten kilometers away, but Grayson could already see the battle before the University to the south. Above the walls of the dry riverbed, the sky was lit with a pearly silver light. Streaks of color punctuated by flaring smears of brilliance marked gun and rocket fire in front of the barely visible towers of Regis.

  "We're late," Lori said in his earpiece as they drew to a halt and studied the sky. The battle was audible as only a muted rumble, like summer thunder in the distance. "They've started without us, boss."

  Grayson checked his chronometer. "And they haven't had time to get in position inside the University. Something has gone very seriously wrong."

  Clay's voice came across the command circuit. "An ambush, then."

  "Judging from the volume of fire...yes. The rebels are in trouble."

  "We've got to help them," Lori said.

  "What do the rest of you say?" Grayson's own thoughts were in turmoil. He wanted to press forward, help the Rangers who must be now battling for their lives. To do so could also mean the destruction of his own unit.

  "We can't leave them in there alone," Lori insisted.

  "We'd best move oot, sair, if we're going tae save tha' haggus."

  "I don't know what 'haggus' is. Captain," Clay said, "but I think McCall is speaking for us all."

  "Move it, then," Grayson said, his face set as death behind his neurohelmet visor. He felt very cold. "Lori, take the point."

  Lori's Locust surged ahead as she picked her way across the uneven terrain. The other five ‘Mechs followed in a line, with Grayson's Shadow Hawk in the van. The clashing thunder of their multi-ton jogging rattled the stones of the embankments on either side, creating miniature rockslides.

  "Set IFF receivers," Grayson called. "They'll be on band seven." The computer-generated graphic of Lori's machine gleamed with a bright green light on Grayson's forward scanner. The flashes of light, and the brief but day-bright whiteness of flares grew brighter and higher in the sky as their ‘Mech strides gobbled up the kilometers.

  Lori swung her ‘Mech to one side, her laser swinging to cover a looming shadow against the light ahead. Grayson brought his own laser up to the point, but held his fire. The computer schematic that drew itself was that of a Wasp, and it showed a green light within the wireframe torso.

  "Identify!" Grayson barked. The Wasp's right arm came up, its laser flaring blue-white. The beam passed somewhere into the sky above Grayson's Shadow Hawk.

  "Hold your fire! This is Grayson! Put up your gun!"

  The Wasp paused, hesitating. "That's got to be Olin Sonovarro," Grayson said. He lashed with his voice. "Report! What's the situation?"

  Sonovarro's voice was a wail over the com. "S-sir...it's all gone to pieces! Th-they were waiting for us! Waiting in the dark, and...and..."

  "Get a grip on yourself, trooper. Is your Wasp damaged?”

  “No. No...sir.”

  “O.K. Fall in with us.”

  “I've had enough..."

  "We're going in there to get the Rangers out as a unit, and you're bloody well going in with us! Clay...McCall...flank him!"

  The ‘Mechs swung into line again, Sonovarro's Wasp unwillingly in their midst. As they trotted into the fringe of the battlefield, they encountered two more Verthandi Rangers. One was the big LoggerMech pocked with rocket craters in its flank armor. The other was a spry, angular PickerMech with long, jointed arms that sported jury-rigged machine guns. The appearance of the Gray Death company and Grayson's quiet orders also brought these ‘Mechs around and moving south once more.

  Grayson learned the tactical situation from their pilots. Large numbers of Kurita ‘Mechs had apparently been in position outside the University walls, ready to spring the trap when Thorvald and his ‘Mechs blundered in. The rebel infantry was trapped, too, though the Ranger pilots all reported seeing plenty of rebel troops fleeing on foot back toward the distant swamp. From the sound of it, the rebel action had turned into a complete rout, with the most of the Ranger ‘Mechs still caught in a shrinking pocket.

  "O.K., boys and girls, we're going to flank the flankers. We'll shift to the east and come in behind the Dracos on Thorvald's left. If we can hold that flank open, maybe Thorvald can get his people out. Ready? Remember to watch for the target's IFF!"

  Grayson's ‘Mech force clambered from the shallow ravine and into the light of battle. Searchlights stabbed and probed from the University walls, and autocannon fire raked the ground and the junked ruin of smashed AgroMechs . The lumbering form of a HarvestMech blundered across Grayson's HUD. He signalled the machine and got its pilot turned around and heading south.

  Another ‘Mech now loomed huge among the shadows. There was no need to query the machine's IFF. Grayson recognized its shape as a Marauder, scarred and battered but still firing bursts of PPC fury with both arms. Grayson brought his laser up to point and mashed down on the firing button. White light speared the heavier ‘Mech as armor boiled from an already glowing wound on its left torso close to the ball-and-socket joint of its left arm. From Grayson’s right, another burst of laser fire joined his as Lori's smaller Locust tore into the Marauder with unexpected savagery.

  The Marauder spun away, its left arm dragging now. Grayson tracked the target relentlessly, bringing the crosshairs of his autocannon reticule down on the enemy ‘Mech's crippled arm and triggering the weapon into a rolling crescendo of raw sound. Autocannon shells struck. Trailing sparks, the Marauder's left arm went spinning into the night. The snapping flashes of electrical short circuiting lit the green coolant fluid spraying from the red-hot wound.

  Another target appeared to the right, attacking Lori. Grayson's computer named it a CN9-A Centurion, a 50-ton ‘Mech with a heavy, right-arm autocannon as well as missiles and lasers. The Centurion's autocannon was firing steadily, its muzzle flash lighting up its own angular body armor. Grayson fired his own autocannon in reply, a long, rolling burst of shells across the enemy ‘Mech's torso armor, hammering at the flip-aside panels protecting its left-chest LRM launch tubes.

  Shells from the CN9 struck Grayson's Shadow Hawk in the left leg and arm, the impact smashing him backward a step and jerking him about The movement pulled his autocannon off target, and so he swung his right arm laser up for a second volley. The bolt streaking from the ‘Mech's extended arm engulfed the Centurion's flat head in white light. With the pilot momentarily dazzled, Grayson urged his Shadow Hawk forward in a lumbering run. Too late, the Centurion's autocannon shifted its aim. Grayson's Hawk swept past the upraised weapon and cannonballed into the lighter ‘Mech with a clang of impacting armor that rang in Grayson's cockpit like the unbearable clangor of an enormous bell. Both ‘Mechs went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

  This close, Grayson's slightly heavier ‘Mech was actually at a disadvantage against the Centurion. He could bring to bear none of his own weapons on the ‘Mech struggling underneath him, but the CN9 had a pair of Photech 806c medium lasers built into its torso. As the combatants grappled, the enemy triggered Photechs at point-blank range into the Hawk's armor, rocketing its internal temperature up by 50 degrees.

  The only way Grayson could strike back was hand-to-hand. He closed his Hawk's left hand into a steel fist that drove with explosive force into the right side of the Centurion's head. Armor that could absorb or refract millions of joules of laser power was hard-pressed to deflect the kinetic energy of such a blow. The Centurion's armor plate buckled, and its neck traverse bearings groaned. Grayson struck again and again.

  Even if the CN9's pilot were still conscious, he would be in no position to operate his ‘Mech. Grayson's armored fist descended once more, striking kn
ife-edged into the cockpit. High-impact plastic shattered, and a trickle of oily smoke trailed from the ‘Mech's shattered head as Grayson withdrew the Hawk's steel fingers from the ruin of man and metal. During Grayson's brief but deadly fight with the Centurion, his men had swepped past in their ‘Mechs and begun to engage the other enemy machines at close range.

  The Gray Death's arrival on the battlefield had provided unexpected reinforcements from an unexpected quarter, catching the Combine forces completely by surprise. As Grayson strode into the general melee, the blaze of a crumpled Kurita Orion lit his way. It had been caught in a deadly crossfire between McCall's Rifleman and Clay's Wolverine. The solid fuel cores of the missile reloads stored in the big ‘Mech's left torso must have been hit and ignited.

  As Grayson scanned the battlefield rapidly, his Hawk's IR imaging system highlighted other ‘Mechs in white and red colors that stood out starkly from the cool blue of the screen. BattleMechs produce enormous amounts of heat just standing in one spot, idling. In combat, a ‘Mech's heat stands out like a magnesium-tipped flare. Grayson's computer overlaid the IFF signals, quickly separating friend from foe.

  The relentless advance of the Kurita forces was crowding the Verthandi Rangers, who were still up but fighting into a smaller and smaller pocket. The Gray Death Legion was already mingling with the rearmost of the enemy attackers. Jaleg Yorulis caught an enemy Wasp from behind with laser fire from his own Wasp. The first shot penetrated the enemy ‘Mech's armor and smashed through to its jump jets. A second shot resulted in a savage, fire-spewing explosion that hurled the Kurita Wasp forward and down, trailing flaming debris.

  Debrowski's Wasp had joined Lori's Locust in a flame-versus-laser duel with an oddly hunchbacked Vulcan. The 40-ton Vulcan, normally an even match for the two smaller ‘Mechs, was already damaged and down on one leg. Its two antagonists had drawn well clear of the Vulcan's forward-pointing laser and autocannon, with Lori concentrating highly accurate laser fire against the stored tanks of CSC fuel for anti-infantry flamer in the enemy's right arm.