"What do you think you're doing?"
"Protecting our assets, Colonel Fancher. We do not need to lose BattleMechs in fruitless combat, and we need the port facilities more than we need to stop the Kuritans from leaving. A battle here will cripple our campaign."
"So you're just going to let them go?"
"Aff."
"And if they run to Wolf?"
"Then they will be running to their deaths."
42
In a BattleMech you always have copilot fear. You don't always think about it; but sometimes you think about nothing else. But whether you're thinking about it or not, the fear is always there, coiled in your gut.
A BattleMech may be the single most formidable fighting machine ever designed by man, but it is not invulnerable, especially when confronted with another 'Mech. As a MechWarrior, you've been trained in simulators and the harsh school of combat until you're very good at what you do, but your opponent may be better. Equipment, skill, and courage may improve your chances, but they cannot always save you. Sometimes it's just a matter of luck and, no matter how good you are, your luck can run out.
I couldn't help wondering if luck was with me as the 'Mechs of our ad hoc battlegroup scrambled from the hangar outside the ops center. I had an OmniMech, Franchette had one of our new machines, and Hans and Grant were running in upgraded classic designs, but the tech in the rest of the 'Mechs was not as good. We didn't know who we'd be facing, but their tech was probably higher. They were definitely more numerous. We were not quite four lances, a reinforced company, facing about twice our number.
I knew my own training and experience, and I wasn't happy about those odds. A few of the other jocks had seen combat before, but this was going to be the first time for most of the MechWarriors in this battlegroup. Those we were heading to meet were almost certainly veterans; greenies are rarely assigned to orbital drops. As far as equipment and skill went, we were on the downside of the equation, but I couldn't fault the courage of our old warriors, sibkids, and trainees. They knew the score, and they never hesitated.
Hans and Franchette took command of two lances and moved wide on the left flank. Grant and I were in the forefront of the rest. Two of our machines were piloted by veterans, but they were jockeying Chameleons.The Chameleonis a training 'Mech, intended to simulate a variety of opponents by mounting a wide variety of weapon systems. A Chameleonis a medium 'Mech, but it doesn't always look like one. It can be fitted out with extra plates to modify its appearance, and carries special electronics to falsify its signature; these special abilities let it look and scan as something other than what it is, hence the machine's name. Ours were configured to appear as heavies; we wanted to be as threatening as possible. I only hoped the machines would make it into combat; Chameleonsaren't really designed for long-distance travel.
Because I outranked Grant, I was in command of our contingent. When our channel to ops suddenly started to break up, my invisible copilot grabbed me by the balls. It's bad enough when you only have to worry about yourself.
Our 'Mechs ate up the kilometers. Because of the superior terrain-handling capability of the BattleMechs, we outdistanced the Home Guard armor units in short order. I didn't worry too much. We were expecting the opposition to be spread out, so we wouldn't have to face their whole force at once. They'd also be suffering from the same lack of intelligence as we were and would need to do recon, further splitting their forces. If we ran into trouble, Hans would sweep in from the flank. If it was too much trouble, the whole force would fall back on the armor.
We had intercepted no transmissions from the incoming 'Mechs during or after their drop. I hoped that meant they were a recon force and would be mostly, if not all, light 'Mechs. If the tonnage of the two forces were equal, their greater numbers would be less of an advantage. The lack of transmissions suggested something else as welclass="underline" that the 'Mech force out there was hostile; friendlies would have called in.
We'd been moving through the Hannovassian Highlands for a quarter of an hour when Jeremy in the Griffinreported a contact on his scope.
"Bogey, boss. A klick off left flank. He's lying low. There may be a couple more, but I'm not sure. Too much iron in the rocks."
"Anyone confirm?" There were no affirmative responses. "You got any motion on that bogey, Jeremy?"
"Neg."
"We'll keep on then."
There was a lot of scrap metal in the Highlands. I didn't think it was an enemy unit; we were still a good way from their drop zone. Besides, an enemy would have reacted to our presence. I hoped I was right and that Jeremy was just being jittery.
Twenty minutes later, Jeremy reported another bogey, but this time he had plenty of confirmation. We had five BattleMechs moving on an intercept course. As they cleared a bluff, I punched up my magnification to get a visual ID and felt my stomach roll.
The approaching 'Mechs were all black with red trim, each one painted with the emblem of a black widow spider on a white web. The Spider's Web Battalion. And they hadn't called in their arrival.
I wasn't queasy just because this unit—which had been MacKenzie Wolf's—was apparently hostile, or because two of the machines were OmniMechs, though either was more than enough to get my copilot in an uproar. My concern was more personaclass="underline" Maeve had been a part of the battalion. I wondered if she was still with them, a member of the lance approaching us now.
I entered them into my battle computer, tagging each with a target code. My Lokibeeped at me when the first one entered the outer effective zone of my long-range missiles. On our side only Grant's Archerand Jeremy's Griffinhad LRMs, but I was sure the Omnis on the other side could match us. I expected them to open fire, but they didn't. Instead they halted.
"Open up the formation," I ordered as I throttled down. As soon as I had dropped behind the line of our advance, I ordered the lance to slow down too. Grant had followed my lead, throttling back even before I gave the order to slow. That put two of our long-range platforms into support position. Whether the Spider's Web warriors were spooked by our response, or just didn't like the odds, I didn't know. But they started to move again, pulling back.
Did they know about Hans and the rest of the company moving out of sight on the flank?
"Follow up," I ordered. Withdrawing without even an attempt at an engagement was curious—too curious not to investigate.
We followed them deeper into the canyon lands, their vector bringing them closer to Hans and his lances. My fears about a trap subsided a bit, but didn't go away. How could they? The tall mesas and narrow valleys between the eroded mountains offered too many places of concealment, too many blind alleys where we might be trapped. I watched my maps and monitored the progress of the rest of the company. Soon Hans would be in position to cut across the path of the retreating black 'Mechs. Once we'd cornered them, we would get some answers out of these warriors.