Events had proven the recalcitrant mercs right. The Dragoons had come to Fasolht. There would be no review board hearing. Vindication had only brought them hard knocks.
The Lieutenant was gone now, leaving Jenkins, Gramps, and some Techs the sole surviving Stompers in Fasolht. Jenkins rode the Lieutenant's Phoenix Hawkbecause his own Stingerwas a smoking wreck three klicks north, at the edge of the valley. Edison's mercs had come straggling into Fasolht with only eight of her company's 'Mechs. Now he heard that only six were still running. The Batan expatriates were using light recon hovercraft in counter-assault duty. There was no hope of reinforcements before the Dragoon juggernaut rolled over them.
If they put up a good fight, they could expect honors of war. A far better fate than real Snakes would leave them. Small comfort. At least a regiment of Dragoons was breathing down their necks. It wouldn't be much longer now.
A sound came swelling from beyond the wall sheltering the Stomper bivouac. The pounding of BattleMechs moving at speed was unmistakable. Jenkins sneaked a glance over the wall while the ground crews scrambled for their weapons. Expecting to see the badlands' camouflage that the Dragoons used, his mind was slow to register what his eyes saw. The charging 'Mechs carried a scheme he knew too well.
“Lord in heaven,” he groaned. “Sword of Light!”
His shout was enough to turn the disciplined turmoil of the camp into bedlam. One young Tech dropped what he was carrying and stood up, unmoving, eyes focused on some other place. Gramps howled and barged toward his 'Mech through the running figures. He squirreled up his Commandoand into the cockpit. The 'Mech had been standing at idle, and he took off before the neurohelmet kicked in. Jenkins watched the machine sway and almost topple before the gyros came under guidance. Gramps was firing before he cleared the wall.
Seeing the old man light out galvanized Jenkins. He climbed up his machine. By the time he was settled into his own cockpit, ravening energy beams were cutting through the camp and rockets impacting on the surrounding buildings. On the other side of the wall, he saw Gramps reach the front rank of the Kurita 'Mechs. A shot from the Commando'schest-mounted SRM launcher caught a Jennerwith a full spread, staggering it. The old ‘Mech Warrior closed in for the kill, sending volley after missile volley into his foundering opponent. A Sworder Panthercame down on him from nowhere and knocked the Stomper to the ground. Before he could rise, a second one loosed a PPC blast pointblank into the Commando'scockpit.
Jenkins had no more time to worry about Gramps, for his own 'Mech was under attack. A crippling blast of charged particles wiped out half the actuators in the left leg. He staggered the P-Hawkto cover and tried to lay down suppression fire for the retreating ground troops of the Defense Team.
“Get out of here, you bastards,” he urged them over his speakers. “Hell's own are here now.”
Over by the main factory building he saw Edison's 'Mechs coming up. Her troopers were good, but clearly outclassed against the fanatics of the Sword of Light. Wild as the Kurita assault was, their gunnery was precise and their piloting superb. Before he could warn the mercenary 'Mechs off, one of them went down. Beyond Edison's machines, Jenkins caught sight of Dragoon BattleMechs moving to outflank the position. They would soon cut off the defenders completely.
“Edison, get out of here. They're cutting us off. Take to the hills.”
“Hold on, Jenkins. We'll give you cover. We'll all get out together.”
“Negative, lady. Leg's shot. Won't make it.” He tried to keep his voice calm. “You'll only get caught, too. The Snakes don't take prisoners.”
“But ...”
“No buts. Get out and keep the fight going. The damned Snakes are here in person, lady. Send 'em back to the hell they crawled from.” He breathed a sigh when he heard her give the order to withdraw.
A Kurita 'Mech passed his position. Don't get too cocky, s.o.b.,he said silently. I'm not out of the fight yet.The blast from his 8cm laser caught the enemy machine full in the back, its beam burning through the Kuritan's armor and flashheating a warhead to explosion. A chain of detonations ripped the 'Mech apart.
The heat overload alarm screamed for Jenkins's attention. Something from the explosion had shredded the cooling jacket on the laser and damaged the weapon. The laser wouldn't fire but continued a dangerous heat buildup. The P-Hawkwas on its way to heat overload. He crouched the 'Mech and waited. One by one, he disabled the automatic overrides.
A Kurita Crusaderapproached. As the enemy passed, Jenkins pushed off from the wall. The P-Hawkstumbled toward the enemy. Lasers melted his 'Mech's armor, while missiles spalled and cracked it, but Jenkins didn't care. He got his 'Mech's one good arm around the enemy, hauling the two machines into close contact. Against the struggles of the Crusader,he brought the useless laser cannon around over the cockpit. On what he hoped was the Kurita battle frequency, he broadcast, “You're staying with me, you samurai Snake. We're going for a ride.”
Then Jenkins shut down his heat exchangers, letting the heat destroy the magnetic containment on the Phoenix Hawks'sfusion reactor.
* * *
Minobu found Hawken leaning against the hulk of a burned-out Harasser hovertank while he bandaged his left hand. As Minobu approached, the man stood and called out, “A glorious fight, Tetsuhara. A fine victory.”
Minobu searched the sweat-streaked face. He saw no concern for the carnage wreaked that day or for the lives spent to soothe the Sworder's ego and fulfill his desire to embarrass some mercenaries.
“You would not be able to hold it.”
“Hold it? Against what?” Hawken asked, voice dripping contempt. “We whipped the Davion dogs, and they ran with tails tucked. They will not return.”
“And if they did?”
“We would whip them again, of course.” Hawken was very confident of that. Minobu heard it in his voice and saw it in the way he stood.
“With what?” Minobu asked. “All your 'Mechs are damaged. A quarter destroyed beyond salvation and another quarter will be days in the repair bay. A third of your men are dead.”
“There'll be more 'Mechs. There'll be more soldiers,” Hawken said. “Any true Kuritan would gladly die for the chance to take part in such a glorious battle.”
“Like yourself?” Minobu's tone was mild, simply inquisitive. He would not be baited as easily as the naive Major Yukinov. He ignored the implication that he might not be a true Kuritan.
“Yes,” Hawken hissed, eyes full of hate. “Like myself.”
The men stared at one another in silence for a few moments. When a medic came up to check Hawken's bandage, the Sworder kicked at the man. “Get away, fool,” he shouted. “Go mother someone who needs it.”
The man scrambled away from the Sworder, his expression confused and angry.
Hawken stalked away without another word to Minobu and joined a group of his soldiers in the shade of a demolished Davion Scorpion.
Minobu shook his head as the Sworder walked off.
“Colonel Tetsuhara,” came a voice over the comm unit at his belt. “This is Yukinov. I've just received confirmation that we have secured the perimeter around Independence Weaponry's main factory. Thought you might like to see the loot before we pack it out.”
“Thank you, Major. I'll be there shortly.” Minobu headed for the main building.
Duty called.
12
Independence Weaponry Complex, Steel Valley,
Quentin IV Draconis March, Federated Suns