Mercenary's Star

by William H. Keith

  The Vulcan had already snapped off short bursts from the flamer, but two nimble Wasps had slipped aside each time. It raised its right arm for another shot at Lori's ‘Mech, but a bolt from her Locust had caught a fuel tank and the arm exploded in orange flame that towered into the spark-shot sky. For an instant, the Vulcan knelt there, half engulfed in the pillar of flame. When its stores of autocannon rounds suddenly exploded, its torso burst into fiery fragments and rattling shrapnel against Grayson's cockpit screens.

  The trapped Ranger ‘Mechs now had a way out. The only problem was how to let them know that their rescuers were their friends. As Grayson's Shadow Hawk moved through the newly opened gap in the Kurita line of battle, laser fire from a Ranger ‘Mech lanced into Lori's ‘Mech, then snapped across the fire-scorched terrain at Grayson's Hawk.

  Calmly, with careful deliberation, Grayson raised his right arm laser, swivelled his ‘Mech's torso to sweep the weapon's muzzle away from the huddled survivors of the Rangers, and brought it to bear on a Kurita Phoenix Hawk lurching toward him. He fired three times in rapid succession, scoring hits on the Phoenix Hawk's left and center torso, which left gaping craters in its armor. The enemy pilot triggered his jump jets on the third hit, and rose on thundering blasts up and out of Grayson's line of fire.

  Grayson spoke on the general command frequency. "This is Carlyle! We're here to pull you out! Where's General Thorvald?"

  "Here," a voice answered. Grayson punched out a combination of keys on his computer terminal, bringing a graphics display that pinpointed the speaker with a flashing red arrow on his HUD. Thorvald's Warhammer lay on its side a hundred meters beyond the rest of the Ranger ‘Mechs. Craters on its armor still glowed red hot when Grayson magnified the view on one of his scanner screens. "Here," Thorvald said again. "Meet me on the private command channel."

  Grayson opened the new channel. "General, this is Carlyle." He increased magnification on his long-range scanner again, studying Thorvald's ‘Mech as he spoke. That Warhammer would not walk again, not with those shredded leg drivers and actuators. Enemy fire from the wall and from farther off in the darkness continued to strike the general's fallen war machine. "General, we thought you might need some help."

  "You're a mutinous bastard, aren't you?" Thorvald said, but his tone was without anger. "I'm glad you're here."

  "I suggest a withdrawal, sir. If we can hold it open a bit longer, we can pull your command out that way."

  "Quite right. I...I relinquish command to you, Captain." There was a click and then a sizzle as Thorvald switched back to the general command frequency. "All Rangers, this is Ranger One! Captain Carlyle is now in operational command! Group with him for withdrawal. And...and don't blame yourselves, people." His voice broke, but he recovered. "All this was...was my fault."

  Grayson swept the area with his IR. There were no enemy ‘Mechs close by and no enemy troops that he could see. The arrival of the Legion seemed to have surprised the Dracos enough that they' d scattered or pulled back, though autocannon and light artillery fire continued to drop in from the direction of the University walls. "General, it's clear in your area. Punch out, and I'll make pick-up."

  "Negative, Captain."

  "But General..."

  "I said negative!" A Marauder appeared at 500 meters' range, strutting across the ground under the unsteady light of multiple fires. Thorvald's shattered Warhammer levered itself higher on its crippled left arm, brought its right arm PPC into line, and opened fire. Swatches of blue lightning crackled across the field, striking the Marauder's legs. The Marauder sent a twin PPC bolt in reply, then went down, either damaged or suddenly cautious. Artillery fire geysered dirt and shrapnel close by Thorvald's ‘Mech;

  "Pull out," Thorvald continued as if the brief exchange had not interrupted him. "You need someone to hold the corridor open, and I'm it!"

  "We can get you out. General. Don't—"

  "Fulfill your contract and do what I say!" There was pain in the words, and Grayson realized Thorvald must be wounded. It was hard to see how the man could still be alive, so savaged was his ‘Mech. "You can't help me...but I'll try to buy you some time. Now move!"

  "Right," Grayson said quietly. Then, louder, "All units! Attention to orders!"

  Speaking swiftly and with rapid-fire delivery, he laid out the orders that had been forming in his mind. The core of Ranger ‘Mechs would begin moving northeast immediately, staying together, moving close behind Lori, who would act as guide. The light BattleMechs would follow, hosing the darkness to either side with beam fire to make enemy snipers rush their shots and to keep the Dracos from organizing a sudden offensive. To provide cover for the rest, Delmar Clay, Davis McCall, and Grayson would close in behind the retreating column. Backing slowly, they would lay down a covering barrage of short- and long-range missile fire and carefully spotted bolts from their lasers and PPCs.

  Thorvald's fallen Warhammer continued to blaze away with lasers, SRMs, and his one remaining PPC as enemy ‘Mechs again advanced out of the darkness. More important than Thorvald's fire was the fact that the enemy, not immediately aware of the retreat, would concentrate on his ‘Mech like wolves on the downed member of an enemy pack. The longer they concentrated on the Warhammer, the more rime Grayson had to get the Rangers and the Legion formed up and moving north.

  It took nearly fifteen minutes for the Rangers to get moving. Some simply refused, finding the dubious shelter of a wrecked LoggerMech or a gouged-out shell hole preferable to the uncertainties of the fire-swept savannah to the north. Several ‘Mechs were badly damaged and had to be carried by their mates. One of these, a crippled, gut-torn PickerMech, had to be literally peeled open by Clay's Wolverine because the hatch had jammed and AgroMechs were not equipped with an ejection system. The rebel foot soldiers were another problem. Most had already scattered toward the distant jungle when the BattleMech slugfest had begun. Here and there, isolated bands huddled in the darkness or waved frantically for help from the giants around mem. There was no way to carry them. Grayson could only wave them off toward the north. To those officers and NCOs who still had radios, Grayson bellowed orders that their men should save what equipment and weapons they could as they withdrew.

  They would need those weapons soon enough.

  The retreat column was just forming up when the final enemy rush began. Shells fell among the straggling BattleMechs, whanging armored hulls with shrapnel fragments and gouging angry scars in unyielding metal as they struck glancing blows. A pair of medium Kurita ‘Mechs, a Hermes II and a stubby-armed ASN-21 Assassin, broke out of the darkness to the west, firing blindly into the infantry vehicles and light ‘Mechs as the confused rebel forces milled vaguely northward.

  The Assassin's LRMs struck a Galleon light tank, one of those captured from the enemy on the day the Gray Death had landed on Verthandi. The tank exploded in orange flame, hurtling metal chunks as the Assassin's fire rocketed into its hull and detonated. Grayson saw Lori's ‘Mech step between the rebel machines and the attackers, firing long, steady bursts of laser into the heavier Assassin. The ASN-21 broke stride, hurt by Lori's highly accurate fire.

  While the Hermes closed on the Locust, its chest-mounted autocannon blazing wildly, Grayson opened fire on it with his laser. He knew that the Hermes carried a laser and a flamer besides its autocannon, and it was the flamer that had him worried.

  He crouched lower in his ‘Mech's control seat, hands clenched on the controls. Though Lori had proven herself in combat here on Verthandi, and on Trellwan before that, she did have one serious weakness in battle—her fear of death by fire. If the Hermes turned its flamer on her...

  Grayson flexed his ‘Mech's legs, triggered his jump jets, and leaped. The thrust from his backpack sent him soaring in a low and utterly graceless leap across 90 meters of open ground. He landed with a jarring crash, flexed the ‘Mech's knees, and jumped again. This time, he landed within 300 meters of the Hermes, almost directly behind the smaller ‘Mech.

  Five LRMs lan
ced out of the tubes in the Hawk's right torso. Grayson triggered the reload cycle, then fired five more. Missiles drew trails of fire into the Hermes' back. Multiple explosions hurled the Hermes forward, knocking it flat. Seconds later, more missiles struck the prone form. There was no way to tell how bad was the damage was. For the moment at least, one Kurita Mech Warrior was out of the fight. The Hermes lay still, making no attempt to move or stand.

  The Assassin, meanwhile, had taken heavy fire from the Locust and from several of the retreating AgroMechs. There was visible damage to its left arm and to the armor on its torso. Machine gun fire hammered at the ‘Mech from rebel troops and vehicles in the area, from the Locust, and from the AgroMechs clustered nearby. With enough time and enough hits, even machine gun fire can penetrate ‘Mech armor. The sparks of high-velocity rounds pinging against the 40-ton ‘Mech’s head and torso armor must have scored some damage or at least made the pilot more cautious. The Assassin withdrew hurriedly, leaving its companion face down in the dirt.

  "Get them moved out, Lori!"Grayson ordered. "We'll hold them here!"

  Lori acknowledged, her voice calm and professional over the command circuit She began moving along the line Of rebel ‘Mechs, snapping orders. Grayson returned to where the Rifleman and the Wolverine stood together, pouring fire into the night. He shouldered the Hawk between them, marked an already damaged Marauder as his target and added his fire to theirs. Side by side, the three of them laid down a thundering barrage. The muzzle of Grayson's autocannon was white hot as the last round cranked through it. Then the weapon fell silent as he continued to blaze away with his laser and LRMs. His head-mounted SRM tubes had burned empty long minutes before.

  Sweat drenched his face, arms, and body. His light mesh shirt was sodden and dripping, and his control seat was just as wet and slick. Autocannon shells shrilled and thundered among the three ‘Mechs. Lasers stabbed and clung, tenaciously gnawing at armor already pitted and torn. Missiles lobbed in on dwindling trails of fire, most burying themselves in the churned-over ground and exploding with thumps that sprayed dirt and hot metal harmlessly against the ‘Mechs' armored hulls. Only a few struck home, but with telling results. The Wolverine's autocannon had been knocked out by an incoming LRM, but Clay continued firing with the ball turret laser mounted high on the big ‘Mech's chest. The air above his Wolverine wavered and shimmered as torrents of heat poured from the machine's overworked heat sinks.

  The Kurita ‘Mechs gathered in the darkness, dimly visible as firelight caught and reflected from weapons, cockpit panels, and angles of joints and armor. They were massing for their final charge.

  Weaker now, Thorvald's voice sounded in Grayson's ears. "Run for it, Carlyle! Take care of my people! Get them out!"

  The Warhammer's PPC spat lightning. An enemy Orion lumbered in from his blind side, the autocannon tucked under its right arm hammering furiously at the stricken rebel ‘Mech. Grayson shifted his aim to the Orion, sending bolt after blue-tinged bolt of laser fire into the ‘Mech's side. The volume of fire striking his Shadow Hawk from the wall and from Kurita ‘Mechs was so great now that his computer was threatening total shutdown as his ‘Mech's internal heat continued to rise.

  Grayson knew there was nothing more he could do for Thorvald.

  His responsibility was now to his unit—which included both the Legion and the Rangers.

  "Pull back," he ordered McCall and Clay. "Flank the column, and keep your eyes open."

  His Shadow Hawk stood a moment more, firing away at the Orion half-a-kilometer distant. The machine was limping now, with heavy damage to its left side, leg, and arm. It nevertheless continued its advance on the downed Warhammer, now only a few tens of meters in front of it. Grayson saw with horror that the flames had engulfed the Warhammer's head and torso after a direct hit from a Vulcan flamer. Yet, it continued firing its PPC again...and again...and again...

  An enemy Marauder stepped between Grayson and the Orion he was targeting, slamming shell after exploding autocannon shell into Grayson's ‘Mech. Grayson triggered the Hawk's jump jets then, sending the 55-ton machine vaulting into the air on the rumbling twin jolts of fusion-heated steam from its backpack thrusters. The cabin temperature soared twenty degrees more, and red warnings flashed and shrieked of power shutdown and overload. He slapped an emergency override and cut a failed actuator out of the directed power circuits in the Hawk's right leg. The ‘Mech fell to earth with a shuddering crunch that Grayson took with flexed metal knees and a reeling sense of vertigo as he fought to maintain his ‘Mech's balance through his neurohelmet link. Then he was running through the night as long-ranged missiles continued to drop to the left and right.

  Behind him, the final detonation of Thorvald's Warhammer lit up the night sky.

  Book II

  19

  Nagumo travelled from the hardcopy in his hand to Colonel Kevlavic, then back again, his look of astonishment only slightly exaggerated for effect. "Six ‘Mechs lost," he said, with mingled wonder and sarcasm. "A Centurion, a Vulcan, a Wasp, a Hermes, and two Orions...destroyed! Or so badly shot up they're useless for anything but scrap parts! Ten more ‘Mechs badly damaged, including two of our Marauders! And for the rest...my senior Tech tells me his crew has maybe a thousand hours' worth of work scheduled now, just to repair the battle damage caused by your incompetence!"

  Kevlavic remained at attention, his eyes riveted to the green sky beyond Nagumo's back. Nagumo regarded him belligerently, the fingers of his free hand drumming restlessly on the desk. Finally, he shook the papers at Kevlavic. "You have nothing to say for yourself?"

  "No, my Lord."

  "You are a coward."

  The Colonel's face went pale above the high-fastened collar of his black dress tunic. "No, my Lord!"

  "You had that rabble in your hand... in your hand! Your failure has cost us four full BattleMech lances, destroyed or put out of action for weeks! You could have pursued that rabble, and you didn't! They were trapped, but then you let them get away!"

  "I am not a coward, Lord! Nor are my men!"

  Nagumo's eyes narrowed, but he smiled to himself. Good. Get him angry, get him to say what he feels.

  "Then defend yourself! What happened?"

  "We...I did not expect the second line of rebel ‘Mechs, Lord. They attacked my right flank from the rear after we were already engaged with the first rebel group."

  "You did not expect it." Nagumo's voice dripped sarcasm. "Since when does an enemy do what is expected of him! Surely you learned that at Hunter's Cape?"

  "My...my Lord, I hold myself fully responsible." Kevlavic's face was death white now.

  "So do I, Colonel." Nagumo dropped his voice to a purr, smooth and dangerous. "So do I. Ah, but you needn't look so grim. I am not going to have you shot, though I confess that pleasant thought had occurred to me. I, too, underestimated the rebels. In that I must share the blame with you." He did not add that Duke Ricol would hold the Governor General completely responsible for this debacle, no matter who was to blame..

  "The rebels showed unexpected tactical brilliance," Nagumo said. "They sent in one force consisting mostly of agricultural machines bearing jury-rigged weaponry to spring our trap, then they trapped the trappers with a surprise assault from the rear. With real ‘Mechs."

  "Yes, my Lord."

  "Still, it was costly for them and not as successful as it might have been if they'd thrown more ‘Mechs into the fray. What were their losses?"

  "Four of those quad-legged machines the indigs call Logger-Mechs, Lord. Three other lighter AgroMechs. At least seven medium hovercraft. Supply and troop carriers, assault guns, and the like. And one heavy BattleMech...a Warhammer."

  "Seven AgroMechs and one BattleMech destroyed. Against our losses of two heavies, three mediums, and a light ‘Mech. Not a very good showing, was it?"

  "No, my Lord."

  "I'm more impressed by the losses sustained by their infantry. Tell me about that."

  "Besides the seven hovercraft,
Lord, the rebel body count stands at thirty-eight confirmed kills. And we took prisoner a number of their wounded. Twelve, I believe."

  "They're being interrogated, of course."

  "Of course, my Lord."

  "Mmm. Your report mentions substantial damage to several enemy ‘Mechs?"

  "Yes, Lord. One heavy and two medium enemy ‘Mechs covered the retreat of the others. They certainly sustained considerable damage. Considering their supply and maintenance problems, that's damage the rebels can ill afford. It is certain that other rebel ‘Mechs also sustained severe hits."

  "I am delighted, Colonel, that you are so certain of the damage inflicted on the enemy. It makes your next assignment that much easier."

  Nagumo smiled as he watched Kevlavic's eyes blink shut, his jaw tense. Let him sweat!

  "I am giving you this assignment because I do still have faith in your abilities, Colonel. You are an experienced leader, a skilled warrior. But you failed me at Hunter's Cape, and you have failed me now, outside the very walls of this city! Will you fail me a third time, Colonel?"

  "No, my Lord! Whatever you want, I'll...What are your orders, my Lord?"

  "Your orders are to track down and to destroy this rebel army, Colonel. As simple as that. If the rebel ‘Mechs areas badly damaged as you claim in this report,"—Nagumo slapped the printout with his hand—"then finding and eliminating them should be no problem at all."

  Kevlavic's eyes opened, his face still pale. "Yes, my Lord."

  "One more...detail. You have two local tenths—that's four standard weeks—to find and destroy the rebels. We are expecting visitors, and I want this matter completed by then."

  "Sir?"

  "Duke Hassid Ricol will arrive soon to inspect his holdings. I intend to report to him personally that the largest coalition of rebel forces on this planet has been eliminated."