When it looked as though the Prince had been unmanned by the losses of the Fourth War and distracted by the troubles in neighboring states, Aaron had stepped up his program of pressure. The Old Duke was always ready to emphasize the latest intelligence about the Combine's rearmament and to point out, with multiple historical precedents, the likely result of the Dragon's actions. Finally, the distracted Prince had been made to see that the time for a preemptive strike against the still-weak Combine was running out. The plans for invasion had been drawn up.
The Old Duke had done his part; he had set the Federated Suns and their Lyran Commonwealth allies at the Dragon's throat. He had also managed to get James appointed Marshal to lead the thrust into Benjamin. It had been a political coup. Now it was time for the Young Duke to reward his father's confidence.
James was determined to add another Dragon Slayer's Ribbon to the cluster that adorned the parade standard of the First Robinson Rangers. The Rangers had acquired quite a few from their successes against the Combine. He wanted another, but was determined that this would be the one that counted. The last one. The one that meant the Dragon was really slain.
The command lance moved across the sparkling surface of the Manschemman Dune Field. Piloting his Zeus,James let the tactical chatter from the maneuvering hovercraft of the Rangers' associated regiments wash over him. The operation was moving well. The Kurita hovertanks were stubborn, but gradually yielding ground. Distant thunder marked scattered engagements to the north.
Just as he was about to order the command lance to move in that direction, a dune eighty meters to his left erupted in a diamond spray of silica. An ochre-painted BattleMech burst up from where it had lain concealed, hidden from the Rangers' sensors by the sand and heat. James's computer tagged the enemy machine as a Pantherwhile he tried to bring his targeting crosshairs to bear on the silver trident emblazoned on its left breast. The Kurita 'Mech sidestepped before James could get a lock-on.
The Pantheraccelerated toward him, its right-arm Lord's Light PPC corruscating as the weapon built up charge. As James tried to track the target, the Kurita pilot unleashed his particle beam. The ravening blue lightning licked the Zeus'ship, melting armor wherever the charged particles touched. James stood firm, confident of his 'Mech's capacity to absorb such punishment.
From the lance's right flank, a flight of long-range missiles corkscrewed in to bracket the charging Kuritan. The rockets came from the Zeusof Hauptmann Benoit. James saw fragments of armor ripped free by the warhead's explosive power before the smoke of explosions from the rocket barrage obscured the Panther.
James sent a burst from his Defiance autocannon into the cloud, hoping the shells would find the target. Hallbrock moved his Wolverinecloser, cutting the line of fire between James and the Kuritan. Benoit's Zeuslumbered in heavily from the right. Even without Devlin's Enforcer,currently on liaison duty with the hover regiment, the lance far outmatched the lone enemy 'Mech.
The dust began to settle. James was puzzled when the Pantherdid not appear. The puzzle was solved as the Kurita 'Mech came crawling out of the cloud to raise its arm, firing another blast at the Marshal's Zeus.
The cyan energy scythed into the Zeusalmost exactly where the previous bolt had gouged it. Armor flowed under the energy beam's caress to drop hissing into the gash. In the cockpit, James watched warning lights flash amber for a microsecond before flaring a steady red. He cursed as the Zeus'ship joint froze, flash-welded by the enormous heat.
Hallbrock pumped a stream of armor-piercing shells from the Wolverine'sWhirlwind autocannon into, the Kuritan. Benoit unleashed his 'Mech's cannon and added ruby pulses of coherent light from his Thunderbolt A5M laser. The Pantherwrithed under the assault. Its shattered armor gaped, and James could see its ferro-titanium bones through the swirls of flame and smoke. Benoit's Zeusstepped closer and swung its massive, squared-off foot in a short, flat arc. The kick crashed into the side of the fallen Panther'scockpit, tearing the entire head assembly free as it crushed the side walls together.
"Hot pilot, that Benoit," Hallbrock commented on his private frequency with the Marshal.
"It's not like I need a bodyguard," James snapped. "I could've taken him out myself."
"Never pass up a gift, Jimmy boy. And don't ever be sorry you've got a good MechJock on your team."
"You're right. I should be grateful." He had been scared, frozen by an unreasoning fear when the damned Snake had come crawling out of the dust, still ready to kill. He was glad that Hallbrock and Benoit were there. Still, he had to tough it out. BattleMech commanders were supposed to be as tough as they come. But they were also not supposed to be stupid. He keyed open the lance frequency. "Gonna have to get this baby back for repairs. Thanks for the save, Hauptmann."
"Bitte,Marshal."
"Jimmy boy, Devlin reports the Dracs are running."
"Damage to them?"
"Minimal."
"Whatever happened to samurai fighting to the death?"
"Still happens, Herr Marshal." Hauptmann Benoit's Zeuskicked the fallen Panther."Whenever we catch them."
And that's been the problem,James mused.
"Ease off, Rangers," he ordered over the RCT command channel. "Let them go. If you get spread out in pursuit, you get into trouble. We don't want a repeat of what happened to Tenth Deneb last week."
James led the command lance back to the field headquarters. The trip back in the wounded Zeuswas bumpy, and he was relieved when they crossed the perimeter. He parked the 'Mech by the Tech shed, leaving orders that it be rearmed with expendables as soon as the hip was functional. The expeditionary force might not have as many shells and rockets as they wanted, but as commander, his 'Mech would have full ammo racks. Sir Michael Hallbrock was waiting for him when he reached the hotel they had appropriated for the Rangers' headquarters. The old retainer's gray topknot was sodden with the sweat that sheened his flesh. He had a cold beer ready for James. His own bottle was half-empty.
"Getting tougher out there, Jimmy. Them Snakes are looking pretty good. The damn groundpounders are putting up more fight than I've seen in a long time. The bloody planetary militias are even standing up to our armor. It's got me a little worried."
James drained the bottle and tossed the empty over his shoulder. "You're overreacting, Sir Michael. We've been slowed down a little here, but we're doing no worse than most of the other planetary assaults. The first wave is still proceeding well enough, and we still haven't seen the 'death before dishonor' that we were supposed to get from the Dracs. The great ferocious Dragon is turning out to be made of paper."
"I think you're being a bit hasty, Jimmy."
"Prince Hanse will cut loose the supplies for the second wave soon. We have what we need to mop up here and get on with it. We'll take the Rangers rimward and meet the coreward arm of the Galedon thrust, encircling the Galtor Thumb. By then, the rebellions we instigated will be in full swing. I wouldn't be surprised if our friendlies kicked the Dracs out without any help from the mercs the Prince has sent in. We're going to take back all the Snakes have ever stolen from us, and more."
A runner dashed up, sketching a salute as he panted his message. "Tenth Deneb First Battalion reports an attack by Kurita armor, Marshal Sandoval. They've beaten it back, but Deneb commander counts a dozen 'Mechs down, at least three beyond repair."
James dismissed the runner and turned to find Sir Michael's brown eyes regarding him curiously.
"An omen, Jimmy?"