The lock was only big enough for one battle-armored trooper at a time, so he climbed in first. He could have blown the inner door, but that would have compromised the DropShip's atmospheric integrity, an unnecessary tactic at this time. The outer door slid shut and he was alone.
The battle suit's atmosphere sensors flickered messages on his display as oxygen hissed into the cramped space around him. If they had been quick enough, there would be no problems. If not, he would be the first into battle.
He thrust the suit's right arm through the crack as the inner door started to slide open. The machine gun fitted to the arm swirled its barrels, at speed and ready. Unnecessarily. There were no targets; this staging area leading to the main hold was deserted.
Elson stepped out of the lock and locked his boot magnets onto the floor before hitting the controls to recycle the airlock. Releasing the magnets, he pushed off, heading for the door that gave access to the main hold. On landing he locked down again.
The area beyond looked deserted; as yet the crew had not reacted to his intrusion. The telltales on the bridge would alert the crew that the lock had been activated, tipping them to the location of their unexpected visitors. Assuming their equipment worked, he reminded himself. The interior of the ship looked more worn-out than the exterior, and his atmosphere sensor reported high concentrations of waste-product gases in the air.
The first crewmember arrived, floating through the doorway just as Elson's Point second was exiting the lock. Elson didn't bother with a weapon. He clubbed the man down. The crewman cartwheeled under the sudden impact. Elson reached out with the suit's manipulator claw and tugged him through the opening. Dead or unconscious, the looter made no sound as the three tines of the claw cut into his flesh, but his body thumped loudly as it struck the far wall.
Fire from somewhere in the main hold caught Clair as she advanced to join her commander. Slugs splattered impotently against her battle armor or whined away in frustrated ricochet. When she loosed a short burst of her own, the firing stopped. Joining Elson at the entrance to the hold, she waited with him until the third Elemental was in the airlock before advancing.
The boarding action was anticlimactic, the looters offering minimal resistance. Within twenty minutes Elson was in command of the bridge and using the DropShip's comm to inform the Hammerof his success.
Relaxing, he popped his carapace. The air was every bit as foul as his sensors reported, but it was nothing he hadn't smelled before. Unpleasant but not dangerous. Leaning against the captain's couch, he listened to the chatter between the Dragoon units. MacKenzie's ship had grappled the Alexanderand he had sent a party aboard, where they were meeting resistance. The Hammerwas completing the maneuvering necessary to send her last boarding parties into the fight aboard the Alexander.Fortunately the looters had not activated the Alexander'sweapons.
With Elementals soon to be involved aboard the cache ship, Elson saw little to do but wait. Edelstein's troops would deal efficiently with unarmored looters. If the scavengers had infested any other ships, their turn would come. There were too many ships for the Elemental troopers to deal with at once; they would mount their sweep operation only once they encountered immediate resistance.
Clair joined Elson on the bridge to report that resistance from the DropShip crew had ceased. A check of the ship's computer showed all crew accounted for. This battered hulk was his. Elson's part of the job was done for the moment.
With the help of his Point second, he linked his suit comm to that of the captured DropShip, which let him listen in on the tac channels aboard the Alexander.MacKenzie Wolf was leading his team against the looters. Not surprisingly, they were calling for Elemental support. The 'Mech jocks and techs were neither trained nor equipped for close-in combat; the free-fall conditions would only further reduce their effectiveness. They would need help, zero-gee-trained help. Edelstein had assigned a full Star to the boarding action. Visual feed from the Hammershowed all shuttles returning from depositing their loads.
On the link through the Hammer,Edelstein reported unexpectedly heavy resistance from the looters.
19
When Colonel Wolf announced his decision, the arguments stopped, at least where he could hear them. New arguments erupted, but they too were reserved for times and places where the Colonel could not overhear. Many people seemed to think the Wolf had made the wrong decision, but I was coming to understand that the decision would have met opposition, no matter how he'd decided. I thought about telling the Colonel all I was hearing, but in the bustle of imminent departure, the grousing came to seem relatively unimportant.
Lydia stopped by Wolf Hall. She'd been away on a contract and I hadn't seen her for several weeks. The last time, we'd spent the night in each other's arms, consoling each another for the loss of Carson. A mercenary's life is not without hazard and, as good as the Dragoons are, we do take losses; Carson was the first of our sibkin to die in battle. That night had made me see Lydia—who had formerly seemed so standoffish— in a different light. I should have been happy to see her again, but her first words set my emotions on a different path.
"Is it true about the Wolf?"
I frowned. My sibs had often tried to squeeze me for information or used me as a rumor-buster, but never before had one come to me while I was on duty. That kind of harassment usually came from others.
"I'm on duty."
She wouldn't let me concentrate on my work. Tugging my head around, Lydia stared into my eyes. "Brian, this is important."
"So is my duty," I said, removing her hand.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "If you'd only answer me, you'd be back to your duty by now."
She was right, of course. Thinking that she would leave Once I'd confirmed the rumor, I said, "It's true."
Taking in my words, her expression became dreamy. She sighed. "An honor duel. Just like in The Remembrance,"
Not exactly. The tales of honor that made up so much of the half-history, half-epic poem that was The Remembrancewere simple, clear-cut stories. Real life wasn't like that, especially life in the business end of the Dragoons. But then, I couldn't expect Lydia to know the complexities of the situation; she was posted to a combat unit. "No cares beyond a good soldier's cares," she'd said on that night we'd cried over Carson. She'd said that was enough for her.
"He'll win, of course," she said confidently.
"Takashi Kurita is accounted one of the greatest MechWarriors of the Inner Sphere."
"He's an old man now," she said with a shrug.
"So's Jaime Wolf," I pointed out.
She laughed, dismissing the issue. "But he's the Wolf. You'll be going with him, won't you? What an honor. I wish I could be there to see the Wolf kill the old Snake."
I found myself wishing I could share her confidence. She was living in a child's world, surrounded by dreams of glory and honor, in which the great hero always slays the villain and right always triumphs. I had dreamed those same dreams. Much as I wished them to be true, I had grown to doubt them. Seeing them in her eyes made me uncomfortable.