Shin popped the driver's safety belts and steadied the wheel. "To the back! Blow the aft hatch and go! We've got one on top of us!"
The driver dragged himself out of his seat, and the Skulker slowed precipitously. Shin slipped into the man's seat, tugged the safety straps into place and snapped them together with the buckle over his chest. He heard a muffled whump as the explosive bolts on the aft hatch blew, then watched scraps of debris whirl up through the cab as they were sucked out the back.
The rearview monitor showed that all three men had gotten clear, with at least one up and moving. Alone except for the Elemental burrowing into the Skulker from above, Shin smiled with grim determination. In his first run-in with an Elemental, the damned Clansman had refused to die. "Let's just see if you're as hearty as your ally was!"
The speedometer reported a velocity of 112 kph when the Skulker hit a meter-tall hump in the plains. Shin wrenched the wheel left while the machine was still airborne and clung to it like a drowning man. For a second or two, the only sounds he heard were the wind and the racing of the engine.
The Skulker's nose hit the ground first with a bone-crunching jolt that flicked Shin forward against the safety straps. Instantly, sparks and smoke streaked through the cab and the headlights shorted, blinding Shin to the world outside. The aft end of the car whipped forward from the right, then the rear wheels caught broadside and the Skulker slammed into the ground on its right side.
The equipment explosions from the back were drowned out by the din as the recon tank rolled up into its own roof. The great weight crushed the domed turret, shattering the ring assembly binding it to the Skulker. As the vehicle bounced up into the air, the turret sailed off like a wobbling saucer, then the Skulker pounded down into the ground and continued to tumble.
Shin couldn't count the number of times the Skulker somersaulted. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel snapped it off and warped it utterly out of shape. Tooth chips ground between his molars and blood was dripping from his nose. Even so, when the Skulker finally stopped on its right side, Shin knew he'd sustained no serious injuries, and he sent a silent prayer of thanks to his ancestors for keeping death at bay.
Popping the belts loose, he crawled back and got out through the escape hatch in the tank's bottom. Still dizzy and disoriented, he ran away from the Skulker, then sank to his knees on a hilltop twenty-five meters to the west. Behind him, the Skulker exploded as the ruptured gas tank poured fuel onto the sparking equipment in the back.
In the fire's backlight, he thought he saw the tank's other crewmen, but he could not be certain. Armed only with a heavy pistol, he couldn't afford to take the chance that it was an Elemental instead, though the body parts scattered around the turret's flattened disk told him it was not the Elemental.
Daubing at the blood from his nose with his sleeve, Shin estimated his position and figured out where rendezvous point A2536 had to be. Before he could begin to head toward it, however, a mounting roar echoed over the plains. Fearing the sound more by instinct and training than sense, he dropped to one knee and looked toward the sky.
Afterburners lit up with gold cylinders of fire, the First Sword of Light's aerospace wing shot toward the east barely fifty meters above the ground. Pulsed rain of scarlet laserfire strobed through the blackness. Brilliant clouds of yellow and red fire wreathed and defined wing-mounted rocket pods. The LRMs streaked off until they became pinpoints of light that erupted into boiling balls of angry red flame.
Even as the Combine's aerospace forces pounded the Clans, Shin felt the brief taste of victory sour in his mouth. The explosions lit by inferno rockets and cluster bombs silhouetted rank upon rank of enemy 'Mechs, then the night jealously hid them again. Even without trying to guess their number, Shin knew one thing for certain: The Clans meant to take Luthien, no matter what the cost, and they had brought with them more than enough 'Mechs to do the job.
39
Mar Negro, Alyina
Trellshire, Lyran Commonwealth, Federated
Commonwealth 5 January 3052
I'm going to die if we don't get some support.
That realization came to Victor as his 'Mech's autocannon whined out a metal typhoon. The storm of projectiles sliced like a surgeon's scalpel through the knee of the enemy OmniMech. Armor shards sprayed back over the battlefield, ricocheting off the smoking hulk of Don Gilmore's Archer.The joint gave way and the falling 'Mech's stump impaled the dark earth, but still the machine did not go down.
Victor pulled his Daishiback to cover behind a granite outcropping. Because of its titanic size and dependence on lasers for primary weaponry, he'd named it Prometheusin honor of the mythic light-bringer. Glancing down at the auxiliary monitor's report on his armor status, he realized that the vulturelike Clan 'Mechs would like nothing better than to pick apart and eat his 'Mech. Next time I name my 'Mech after something that had a peaceful life—like Bambi!
Victor keyed his radio. "Zephyr One, bring the rest of your lance back toward me."
"Bill Davis is gone, Kommandant. Dave Jewell and I are it."
Victor knew the voice on the radio had to be Dennis Pesuti's. "Zephyr Two, work back to the north and east. You and Zephyr Three cover each other."
"Wilco, Tornado One."
Galen Cox's voice cut in on the frequency. "Victor, that'll leave your left flank open."
"No it won't. You and I are going to hit the Clanners from the flank as those two draw diem up. Our field of combat narrows as we get near the bluffs. We can hold them, at least long enough to get some help. Relay those orders to the rest of our company."
Caution echoed through Galen's reply. "Victor, you know as well as I do that the Clans are herding us in that direction. We can't fall for whatever they're planning."
"Dammit, Galen, don't do this to me." Victor ground his teeth in anger. "It'll buy us some time. I'm going to see if Regimental has any support they can give us."
"Roger, Tornado One. I just want to be sure you understand the risks. As long as you do, I know you'll find a way out of it."
"Got it, Squall One. And thanks." Victor punched up the Regimental Support frequency, but all he got was dead air. Switching over to the secondary frequency, he got an earful of Babel. It sounded like hundreds of voices all pleading for the very things he wanted to request. Suddenly eerie static blasted through the speakers and one less voice demanded help.
"This is Tornado One in Sector 2660.1 need fire support."
"Request logged, Tornado One." The operator sounded fatigued and hopeless.
"Regimental, what can you give me?"
"Be advised, Tornado One, that we have no resources for you at this time."
Victor worked his Omni back, then melted armor from a Clan MadCatwith two well-placed laser bolts from his 'Mech's arm-mounted large lasers. 'The situation here is a bit desperate, Regimental. I need support in 2660, now!"
"Things are desperate all over, Tornado One! The enemy has 2750 and 2650. If they push through to 2550, you're cut off—the whole peninsula is gone. We're holding the line, but we need everything we have."