When he was sure the spotter was out of range, Elson left his refuge and called his Point together. The other four troopers in the Point called the unit a "squad," but that was because they were spheroids and Dragoon kids. Their archaic nomenclature was only a minor annoyance.
"Think we were spotted?" Jelson asked. He was Point second, a position he held only because of the lack of challengers.
They'd have known.
"Neg," was all Elson said.
"I still think we should be laying for them in the pass with the rest of the platoon." That came from Killie. She was spheroid through and through, even though she had the build of an Elemental—a small one. Though she rarely complained about staying suited, she always questioned everything and was far too free in expressing her own ill-informed opinions.
"But that's where they'll expect us." This from Vomer, the over-eager Dragoon kid.
"So what?" Killie laughed. The sound was harsh over the suit comm. "It's the best defensive terrain around. No clear lines-of-sight beyond fifty meters. Perfect toad terrain."
Toad!If Elson had not been sealed into his suit, he would have spat. Some spheroid 'Mech jock had dubbed Clan Elemental infantry troops "toads" the first time he'd seen them come bounding toward him across a plain. The Clanners had been executing a rapid closing maneuver, using their jump packs for all they were worth. Those Elementals had been moving their suits with precision and grace, and all that free-birth jock could think of was hopping toads. The name had taken hold among the spheroids, even among their own battle-armored infantry. The unity-forsaken fools used the name for themselves. They had no pride.
His anger suddenly seemed pointless. He was among Wolf's Dragoons now. How could he expect better?
The spotter's presence meant the enemy would be arriving soon, too soon for Elson to allow his Point to engage in idle speculation and futile questioning of his commands. He cut off the discussion and dispersed his Point among the hulks, selecting their positions for maximum coverage of what he estimated to be the opposition's most likely route. He returned to the Thunderboltand climbed atop its torso. Scanning the horizon, he caught a flash of light. He keyed the magnification circuit up to ten-power. Sure enough, a slight dust cloud. He had sent the Point to ground just in time. The enemy was coming.
He slapped an optic-link sensor onto the Thunderbolt'shull and dropped down out of sight, letting the 'Mech's bulk shield him from the scans of the approaching BattleMechs, as it had from the spotter. He kept watch through the optic link.
The enemy was a single lance, all light 'Mechs. The heaviest was a model he had seen recently for the first time, a humanoid 'Mech body with an almost canine silhouette to its head assembly. It took Elson a moment to remember the designation . . . Wolfhound.The others were classic Star League designs, two stilt-legged Locustsand one more humanoid 'Mech, a Wasp.They moved in a diamond formation, with the Wolfhoundin the lead and a Locuston each wing. From the Wolfhound'sposition in the formation and its significantly superior mass, Elson guessed that it must be the lance commander's machine.
The 'Mechs slowed as they approached the old battlefield, cautious of the danger the broken terrain offered. That was wise. A misstep among shifting rubble could throw the machine off balance, perhaps overloading its gyros. A pilot in such a predicament would have to work hard to keep the mighty battle machine from crashing ignominiously to the ground. Such a fall rarely destroyed a 'Mech, but could severely injure a pilot, even if the damage was only to his pride.
Patient as a Nevtonian spiderlion, Elson waited. One by one the BattleMechs entered the old battlefield. They were moving slowly, cautiously. But their concern was only for the terrain—a mistake that would cost them. Elson let them reach what he judged to be the center of the 'Mech graveyard before rising from cover.
He painted the trailing Waspwith his laser, marking his Point's primary target. Triggering the short-range missiles in his suit's backpack, he gave the order to open fire.
The rockets roared from his launcher, rocking him for the microseconds it took the thrust of their engines to force them free of the launcher. Feeling the heat wash over his helmet as the missiles streaked toward their target, he was pleased to see twin smoke trails rising from four other locations almost simultaneously. His whole Point had launched on the target.
Booms followed flashes and smoke blossomed around the Wasp,but before it was obscured in the growing cloud, Elson saw one of his shots impact the head. Though he knew the shot would not penetrate, he relished the knowledge that the 'Mech jock would be hurt. But there was no time for exultation. He needed to be gone before the the Wasp'scompanions could react.
He concentrated on reaching his second position safely. Dodging to maximize cover from the alerted BattleMechs, he could not see the other members of his Point. The lack of return fire from the enemy 'Mechs encouraged him. The Point must have taken the 'Mech jocks by surprise.
Safe in cover, he risked a look around. His position only allowed him to see one of the other Elementals. Killie. She was flashing him the signal, pumping her arm up and down four times to indicate that all Point members were in position.
He checked on the 'Mechs. The Waspwas down. That was good. Very good. In fact, better than he had dared hope. It meant his Point had a chance at another. The other 'Mechs had halted. No doubt they were working their scanners overtime, trying to find whoever had struck down one of their number. Elson grinned savagely. They would find out soon enough.
The Wolfhoundremained stationary, apparently on overwatch, as the two Locustsspread out to search. They gave wide berths to the dead 'Mechs, almost as if they expected one to spring up and throttle them like some revenant from a grave. -
Caution in these circumstances was smart, but the lance commander was not as smart as he thought. Elson was ready for the jock's reaction. Recalling his Point members' assigned positions, he made a quick estimate of how far off they might be. He recorded his new orders, compressing them for transmission before he screeched out a burst to his Point. He had to keep it short to prevent the enemy 'Mech pilots from locating his position.
"All suits, vector on Wolfhound.Three minutes to firing position. Concentrate on right arm. Screech in two if unable to comply."
He waited ten seconds, then moved out.
Mark: one minute, twelve seconds.
He crouched and waited behind a dismembered BattleMech arm. From off to his left came the sizzle of a 'Mech-mounted laser. There was no explosion or further fire—the warrior must have been spooked, firing at shadows. No fire had come Elson's way, so he knew his passage through the rubble had not been spotted. The Wolfhoundwas still standing motionless, watching its lancemates.
Mark: two minutes.