‘Yep. Three recon 'Mechs, moving up. Look like regular Lyrans. No merc support.’ Lipescue's voice was calm.
‘Get a lock on one. Let me know when you have something.’ The Captain's mind snapped back to his unit.
‘McHaigh, are you in place?’ he called to his two retreating lances.
‘Aye. Cap'n. They haven't clamped down yet Also, sir, I've picked up calls from an element of Leonard's Lions. A pair of Riflemenabout three klicks to our rear. Their unit bugged out piecemeal and left those two cans to fend for themselves. I took the liberty of telling them that they were to hold until we get to them. I also told them that they were now members of The Swords of St. George, and that they should remember that St. George looks after his own.’
‘Very good, Sergeant. Do you think they'll be there when we get there?’
‘Well, my little speech seemed to buck them up. And the thought that a company was coming to back them up seemed to please the hell out of them...’
‘I've got one of the little beggars locked.’ Lipescue broke in.
‘Let him have it. Lippy! Then fall back at the run. They'll bring in the damned fighters on your rocket flare.’
‘We're on our way. Sergeant.’ St George told McHaigh.
To the Captain's left the flare of the Crusadersrockets lit the falling rain. He could see the giant machine begin to fall back even before the glare had subsided. The intensity of the rain dampened the effectiveness of his I.R. sensors, and so he could not make out the advancing enemy line. Then he felt the barrage hit. He too fell back.
Behind them, the ground rocked as the rain-blinded fighters groped for their Mechs.
The ground rolled beneath them, as the warriors covered the three kilometers to the company's position in what seemed to be an instant.
Captain St George burst into the center of the Swords' formation bellowing orders. ‘McHaigh, take Swords Three and Bryant, and fall back to those Riflemen.Then hold. Got that?’
His veteran Sergeant responded in the affirmative, and began to pull his unit out.
‘Harris, you and Swords One, stick with me and Lippy.’ The Captain's mind raced to put all his plans together. Using the company band, he called out, ‘O.K., Swords, this is how it goes. We're out of air support, but as long as the rain holds, we're reasonably safe. Don't stay in one place after you fire. Move at least fifty meters in any direction. The fighters will hit your last spot hard. We are also about nine kilometers from our lines, and it looks like we can expect very little support on the way back. Sergeant McHaigh is falling back three klicks to pick us up some reinforcements and dig in. Swords One will hold here until he calls us from his position. Then we'll fall back through his line three klicks, and hold for him. We will continue to fire and fall back through each other until we reach our own lines. Has everyone got that?’ There was a smattering of yeses, punctuated by Lippy's customary ‘Yo’.
‘Harris, take the left flank. Lippy, you take the right. Everyone keep your eyes open and on those I.R. sensors.’
The rain closed in around the troops, locking each 'Mech into a blank walled box. Were it not for their instruments, each man in Captain St George's unit would have thought himself abandoned St. George could see the thin steam of the rain frying off his heat sinks, and thanked whatever battlefield luck had brought this deluge. Without it, his Swords would be lost.
Damn it,he thought. What's taking McHaigh so long? Their retreat from the front didn’t take this long.
‘Harris. Anything?’
‘No, Captain. All clear.’ The Sergeant's voice seemed surer than when he had first reported his Lieutenant's loss at the front
‘Lippy?’
‘Safe and sound, Cap'n. You're not nervous are you, Cap'n? Those Steiners won't even reach here until tomorrow. They still think we're setting them up.’ There was humor in the veteran's voice that St. George didn't share.
‘Just remember, Lipescue, you indolent scrap dealer, they've got a merc unit out there to show up if they're too lazy.’
‘That's O.K., sir. We took them down a peg. They'll think twice, too.’ It seemed nothing was going to dampen Lippy's spirits.
‘Captain St George? Harris. I've got some movement to our rear, about 500 meters back.’
‘I'll move over to take your end, Harris. You get back there and report.’ St George wished fervently for a heavier contingent of machines. A Battle Masterwould make all the difference in the world right now. As he moved to cover the left flank, he reflected on the fact that a Locustand a Waspwere holding the center of his line If the Steiners pushed even halfway hard, the center would fall through.
Suddenly the dogs of war erupted in full cry, as every receiver channel in the Captain's Mech started to bellow at once. On Regimental, he heard the order to board the DropShips!
Over the battalion frequency, which till now seemed given over to chaos, came the voice of Captain Patel, Force Commander Keshii's second-in-command. He was ordering all units of the 131st. however scattered, to form up on the spaceport.
On his company frequency came the voice of Sergeant McHaigh calling for support. His position was under a probing attack, at least lance-strength at both ends of his line.
To cap off the pandemonium, Sergeant Harris's voice cried out over Swords One's tactical frequency, ‘Captain St. George, I've gota Wolverineleading a lance trying to cut us off. Engaging to prevent penetration.’
‘Swords One. pivot on the lett flank and fall back 500 meters. Look for Sergeant Harris and hostile action. Lippy, fall back 500 meters. You are officially the right flank and the middle. If anything turns up, report, then fall back to McHaigh's position.
Captain St. George fell back. He could see the firing. As he approached the battle, he could feel the ground vibration caused by the Hunchback'sautocannon 20. Harris at least was still up and active.
The gusting rain parted like a curtain on a stage, and for a brief instant. St. George could see the entire field of battle for about a kilometer in all directions. There, dominating the muddy grey-green field, was Harris's Hunchback,gouts of flame pouring from the massive autocannon. In front of the Hunchback,belching a thick rope of oily smoke, stood the Steiner Wolverine,burst open in a hideous manner. Spread out over the field, three other 'Mechs moved up. Two were indistinct, right on the edge of the next marching line of rain. The third squatted on huge birdlike haunches, its blunt, bullet-shaped fuselage unmistakable. It was a Stalker,one of the most formidable fire support 'Mechs ever built.
‘Harris, punch out!’ St. George convulsively fired all his weaponry at the Stalkeras though he could call back the fist of doom about to be unleashed on the Hunchback.As the Captain watched in horror, the assault Mech loosed its full barrage of long- and short-range missiles at the doughty Hunchback.A shattered comet with a tail of black smoke slammed into the Sergeant's 'Mech. In an instant, it dissolved in flames, a pyre from which there was no escape. With the finality of that closing act, the squall line swallowed the ‘actors’ like a fadeout.
We gotta get out of here,St. George's mind screamed. We're trapped.Instead of giving in to these fears, the Captain's voice rang out with unnatural calm over tactical. ‘Swords One, fall back on the double. Do not, repeat, do not attempt to engage any enemy forces on the way, but fall back on McHaigh's position immediately.’
‘Lippy. you still have one more LRM salvo?’
‘Yo. I was kinda hoping to save that one for my scrapbook.’
Though the veteran's attempt at humor was welcome, the image of Harris's 'Mech vanishing under the Stalkersassault had cooled the Captain's taste for banter. ‘Be ready to fire on the run, at my target coordinates, on my command. Now fall back.’