He wanted to think clearly.
He had to.
The Locustthat had wounded him fired again, but he was faster this time, juiced up. He shifted away; leaving the beam behind. The laser gouged only the ground. Dodging and weaving, Elson closed on the light 'Mech.
He had to take it down before it got him.
Then, then he would have time to think. He would have time to plan, and find a way of this disaster.
The Locustfired again.
Pain seared his chest, spreading faster than the gel.
He tried to keep moving, tried to raise the suit's laser to show the jock what an Elemental could do to a 'Mech.
The suit didn't respond. Sparks flashed before his eyes as the heads-up display winked out. Systems lights went dark and blackness filled his helmet.
* * *
The Wolf was slow but elegant. He was old, no longer possessed of lightning reflexes despite what some would tell you of Clan-bred vitality. But his cunning and experience compensated for much. He handled his 'Mech as if it were a part of him, almost like the fabled blend of man and machine so popular in holo-vids.
Missiles flew from the Archer'sbulky shoulders, trailing smoky clouds after them as they sought out targets. Each volley impacted with an accuracy that surpassed mere computer-aided targeting. The Wolf guided his munitions with an instinct that could not be quantified.
My ragged lance joined the Colonel's column in time to receive another thrust from Beta. The Kuritans responded faster than we did. Then we learned that we were not the only ones capable of ruses.
A company of medium 'Mechs swarmed out of a dry streambed screened from us by an iron-rich mesa. Another lance rocketed over the top. They were on us in seconds.
A Waspcaught a full barrage from the Colonel and disintegrated before it could land. It was the only one of the attackers to be silenced before they opened fire. The Colonel's Archerwas screened from the attackers by two of our reserve 'Mechs, which took a lot of fire meant for him. The lance that had come over the top had clear lines of fire, and they used them. They rained missiles down on us and stabbed at us with energy beams.
I sidestepped the Loki,soaking up some of the enemy's fire. My Lokishook like a rag doll in the hands of an angry child. System-status lights went from green to amber to red almost faster than I could see. Smoke filled my cockpit with an acrid smell and I knew I was losing electrical lines somewhere.
Through the armor of my cockpit I heard the roaring thunder of a ripple launch from the Archer.Missiles tore holes in the torso and limbs of a Javelinjust as its own launchers were recycling for another volley. The Javelincrashed over backward, a leg gone.
The rebel lance pulled back, lifting up and jetting away as fast as they had come. As if they were a signal rocket, a lance of Kuritans came pounding back. Outnumbered, the Beta 'Mechs disengaged.
It was another skirmish in our favor, but the battle was not over yet.
Hours went by. The fighting was hard, but the Kuritans made a difference, a vital difference. Where we would have had only one 'Mech, now we sometimes had two. Over the course of the small encounters that make up a 'Mech battle, we slowly gained the upper hand. In a fusillade here, a physical attack there, we shifted the odds. The battle began to turn once more in our favor.
The cat-and-mouse game between Rand's company and Fancher's Command Lance changed mode suddenly when a Kuritan Pantherappeared on a ridge and sent a crackling blue beam of charged particles into the shoulder of Fancher's Gladiator.Fancher turned the 'Mech to face the new threat, and Rand and her crew swarmed in. Short-range missiles burned in on sooty tails. Beam weapons lit the hazy field, turning it into a hellish scene where BattleMechs stalked and fought like mythical demons. Fancher's Gladiatorfell, a lion pulled down by wolves.
The loss of Beta's commander might have been enough to decide the battle, but at almost the same moment, the static filling the channels of Elson's people peaked and vanished. Our jammer linkage had been destroyed somewhere, the network broken and rendered useless. I didn't need to hear the sudden activity on Beta's channels to know we were in trouble; they were reorganizing very quickly. No less could be expected from those who wore the Dragoon wolf's head.
Our own scouts used the absence of jamming to report more bad news. Zeta Battalion was moving up.
The news soon spread through Beta. Reed, who had taken command, ordered his battered BattleMechs to fall back. After the mauling Beta had given us, he knew we'd have a hard time handling Zeta. A renewed assault by Reed's 'Mechs, coming while we were engaged with Zeta, might be just enough to break us.
The Colonel was on the line as soon as the scouts finished reporting. He told them to route all further reports through me, then he addressed our surviving units. There weren't a lot of them, and all were operating well below strength. As I scanned the status data, I wondered how much longer we could last.
The Wolf called out orders, making the most of our depleted forces. He sent the Elementals' zoomers scurrying around the battlefield to collect armored infantry into effective Points and Stars. With an uncanny eye for the strength of positions, he positioned BattleMechs across Zeta's probable line of advance.
Then we waited.
As always on an arid battlefield, we saw the dust before we saw the approaching 'Mechs. Zeta was spread wide. Besides providing a broad sensor scan range, the formation let them hide their main force behind a screen of dust. If we'd had access to aerial recon or satellite telemetry, we would have known their disposition, as they might have known ours.
Zeta's Jamison and the Colonel were old friends, well familiar with each other's style. I had no doubt that each was trying to outguess the other, trying to pit his force's strength against the other's weakness. In such a contest, I had no doubt the Wolf would come out on top, but even so, the battle would not be a sure thing. We were tired, our machines damaged and low on expendables.
Do you remember what I said about fear? My cockpit was very crowded on that late summer afternoon.
The leading 'Mechs of Zeta resolved out of the dust clouds. They advanced at a steady pace, well below their maximum. I didn't see a single machine below seventy tons. They advanced slowly, as if reluctant to begin the battle. Maybe they'd heard about the breakup of Gamma Regiment. Maybe they were having second thoughts.
I hoped so.
The only thing in our favor was that Zeta was as understrength as we were. But machine for machine, they outmassed and outgunned us. Maeve's success against Gamma Regiment would go for naught if we were defeated here and Jaime Wolf was killed. Our whole cause would be lost.
"Hold your positions," the Wolf ordered as he moved his Archerforward.
I objected, as did other Dragoon officers, but Jaime Wolf ordered us to silence. We watched as his BattleMech moved through our forward positions and into the open space between us and Zeta Battalion.
I had heard it said that a wolf will win every fight but one, and in that fight, it dies. I suddenly wondered if this was what the Wolf intended. Did he hope to stake it all on a single combat, a duel in the style of the Clans? Was this going to be the Wolf's last fight? I hoped, I prayed, that it wasn't.