Though Fraser's 'Mech had taken damage, he pursued the enemy, his autocannon roaring. In the confining terrain, the faster machines had been able to outmaneuver him, to strike and escape lightly. He charged on, seeking a kill.
Seeing the enemy in retreat before him, Minobu started to follow as well. A warrior did not let the enemy escape while he was capable of destroying them.
A warrior! The Archer!
Minobu pulled up.
A BattleMech's heat sinks could not long cope with the temperatures of magma. An Archercarried almost five hundred missiles at full load. Certainly, many of them would have been expended in combat. Just as certainly, the rising heat would make an ammunition explosion imminent. Even if only a few missiles were still on board, they would probably be enough to rip the 'Mech to shreds. He could not leave the Archer'spilot to that fate. The Stompers could be fought and killed another day.
Minobu headed for the stranded Archer,which was still struggling feebly to pull itself from the pit. At each attempt, however, more crust crumbled around it. Minobu maneuvered carefully to avoid the same fate.
“Punch out, warrior!” he called over loudspeaker as well as comm unit.
The pilot did not eject. When Minobu reached the edge of the lava flow, he could see why. The Archerhad taken missile hits on the upper torso near the shoulder-mounted missile launcher. Shreds of armor had peeled away and fouled the hatch. The 'Mech's weight was too great for the Vindicatorto pull. The ‘MechWarrior was sealed in a seventy-ton coffin.
Unacceptable. That was no death for a true warrior.
Minobu lowered his 'Mech down to the ground and carefully moved it out onto the crust. The skin of the magma dented beneath the Vindicator'sweight, but did not immediately crack. Minobu knew with every movement that the next one might be a sudden plunge through the crust into the molten rock below the surface. He edged forward ponderously until the Archer'scockpit was within reach of the battlefist on the Vindicator'sleft arm. Angling the right-arm PPC to distribute the 'Mech's weight, Minobu raised the upper torso of his 'Mech.
Ruby light lanced out from the 5cm Ceres Arms laser mounted alongside the Vindicator'shead. Centimeter by centimeter, the coherent light chewed through the heavier 'Mech's armor, outlining the cockpit area. Each centimeter was purchased with increased heat in Minobu's cockpit, edging his own 'Mech closer to shutdown. Following in the path of the laser was the battlefist, exerting incredible pressure and peeling back the weakened ceramet armor. It was slow work. Every moment brought the inevitable ammo explosion closer.
When there was enough space, Minobu closed the fist around the armored compartment that held the pilot. Rocking backward, he tried to pull the cockpit from the foundered 'Mech. The attempt threatened to topple the Vindicatorover the Archerand into the magma. The 'Mech would not give up its warrior.
It took three more tries before the cockpit ripped free. Prize in hand, the Vindicatorinched like a giant crab back away from the crack. As soon as he thought it was safe, Minobu brought his 'Mech to its feet and pounded for cover.
Before he could reach safety, the inevitable finally occurred, and the Archer'smissiles detonated. The pressure wave slapped the Vindicator,sending it flying like a rag doll. Minobu brought his 'Mech's left arm in across its chest and curled the machine around it.
The jar when the 'Mech hit the ground was phenomenal. A restraining strap split, and Minobu hurtled forward into the viewscreen. The neurohelmet kept his skull from splitting open, but the impact dazed him. The control jacks pulled free of their sockets, and the ‘Mech sprawled as limply as its pilot.
Minobu fumbled the jacks back into place. The 'Mech lay on top of the Archer'scockpit housing. He hoped that it was intact. To have crushed it after rescuing it from the explosion would be a cruel joke of fate. He rolled the Vindicatoronto its side.
The Archercockpit's metal shell was dented and distorted, but appeared unbroken. Minobu could vaguely see a moving shape within. The warrior lived! Carefully, he began to peel the shards of armor locking the access hatch in place.
Minobu had snatched this man from death, literally taking the ‘MechWarrior's life into his own hands. If not for Minobu's actions, the warrior would be dead, his future blown to the winds with his atoms. From now on, the karma the man earned, good or bad, was also Minobu's karma. The man's words, his deeds, even his life was now Minobu's responsibility. Bushidodemanded it.
The hatch was cleared. It opened with a groan of protesting metal, and the ‘MechWarrior's neurohelmet appeared. Moving slowly, he emerged, battered and with his left arm hanging limp at his side.
“Looks like I owe you one,” the pilot said, using his good hand to force his neurohelmet free from his head. Finally, Minobu could see the other warrior's face. The man he had saved was Colonel Jaime Wolf.
10
Alpha Regiment MHQ, Fire Rift, Quentin IV
Draconis March, Federated Suns
18 June 3023
“BattleMechs coming in from the east, Colonel.” Cameron's voice was quiet, but it caught the attention of everyone in Alpha Regiment's mobile headquarters vehicle. “Not ours.”
Wolf looked up from the holotank to check the chronometer on the forward bulkhead. “Timing's about right for our guests.” His voice was harsh, still dry from his ordeal in the overheated BattleMech. Wolf sipped electrolyte fluid from the plastic bottle he held. “Put a recon lance out to intercept and confirm, William.”
“On their way, Colonel. Intercept in ten minutes.”
“Girard's Company on alert?”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Then until we get an ID on them, we wait,” Wolf said, returning his attention to the holotank, which displayed the disposition of the combatants skirmishing throughout Fire Rift.
Observing the mercenary commander through the tank, Minobu thought Wolf looked haggard. He had refused the doctor's offer of a painkiller, citing a need to think clearly. When he moved, it was slowly and with great care to avoid jarring his left arm, held rigid in a preserving sleeve. The white sling was stark against the dark blue fatigues he wore. He was clearly exhausted.
Minobu knew that the human body was not meant to deal with the agonies Wolf had suffered yesterday, and the Colonel was no longer a young man. Minobu also knew that the body was resilient enough to heal swiftly from terrible injury if driven by a great will. He could only wonder if Wolf still possessed that will.
The mercenary Colonel watched the holomap as he had in the command center at Batan, though he played no variations with it. He dealt with the problems his officers brought to him, but initiated no discussions. His response to questions was slow, his speech slurred. There was no edge to the man. He seemed detached from his surroundings.
Was this the warrior who had brought troops from nowhere into the Inner Sphere, and then built a reputation as the elite mercenary unit of the Successor States? The tireless commander? The implacable foe? This was a man showing the effects of nearly twenty years of constant warfare. A shadow of the fox who had played dominance games with Minobu at their first meeting. Had the brush with death been a kind of tidewater for the man? Had Minobu saved Wolf's body only to lose the man's essence?