Like a startled flock of birds, the Dragoons turned and fled before the onrushing horde. Despite the apparent failure of morale, their fire was well-coordinated and surprisingly effective. Firing wildly, the Draconians streamed after them across the glacier's surface. From what Minobu could see the huge barrage of missiles, shells, and beams seemed to have little effect.
Uneasiness seized Minobu as he moved his 'Mech forward. If his force was advancing, he had best advance with them if he hoped to maintain even the slightest control. He was still puzzled by the Dragoon actions, which had been uncharacteristic from the first. Offering formal duels and then violating the code made no sense. The enemy's sudden flight made even less. It had to be a trap.
Almost at the moment he reached that conclusion, Minobu noticed the Dragoon left flank slowing and turning. They had reached the rocky hummocks of lesser mountains projecting through the ice and were taking cover there.
“Hold! Hold!” he screamed as he pulled his own Dragonto a halt. “Hold the advance!”
His orders went unheeded. The first Kurita 'Mechs rushed on past the original position the Dragoons had held. When the medium 'Mechs and the faster of the heavy machines hit the former enemy position, the mercenaries sprang their trap.
In a sudden burst, the ice beneath the Draconian machines lit up with blue fire, glowing like some crazy New Year's decorations. Cracks appeared in the ice, spreading across the field. In places, the ice shattered as easily as a frozen puddle. Yawning pits opened and swallowed Kurita BattleMechs.
The Draconian rush turned into chaos as two dozen 'Mechs immediately plummeted from view. Others scrambled from the crumbling surface. A few gained the safety of ice that had not been undermined, but most crashed down, along with the multi-ton blocks they gripped. Several more 'Mechs were forced over the edge by eagerly advancing fellows who were unaware of the danger. Devastated by their losses, the Kurita units were in total disarray.
A kilometer away, the Dragoons halted their feigned retreat. Weapons blazing, they turned on the Draconians. Their furious charge struck with ruinous effect.
Minobu saw now that Wolf had had his own reasons to delay the battle. While the duels were taking place, his engineers had been tunneling under the glacier's surface, preparing the pits and carefully placing the explosive triggers. In one clever maneuver, the Dragoons had cancelled out most of the Ryuken's numerical advantage.
Knots of Kurita 'Mechs were scattered across the glacier, and the Dragoons set out in pursuit over stretches of intact ice. The battle spread across the Opdal Glacial Fields. Instead of a head-on, multi-regimental battle, the fighting dissolved into a series of unconnected struggles by units of company or battalion size. Swept forward with the advance, Minobu's Dragonwas being dragged along by the ebb and flow of the Ryuken- ni’sretreat down Hamar Valley.
Pressed and harried, the Kuritans fought fiercely, but the Dragoons allowed them no quarter. In the smaller battles, most of the advantage went to the mercenaries, who had far more experience in such combat.
Disrupted by the surrounding mountains, Minobu's comm channels were filled with static, cutting him off from most of his command. When he finally managed to break free from his own pursuers, there was little he could do to reunify his forces. Minobu knew it was only a matter of time until the Dragoons reduced his troops to a point beyond effective opposition.
Suddenly, the pressure on the Draconians let up. Everywhere across the now extensive battlefield, Dragoons pulled back. Praying over the open channel, someone thanked Buddha for the miracle. From his own vantage point, however, Minobu was able to discern the true reason for Dragoons' unexpected withdrawal. The reprieve to his troops was not of supernatural origin.
The Eighth Sword of Light had finally arrived.
Faced with the arrival of fresh enemy troops, the Dragoons contented themselves with the havoc they had caused. Scattered as they had become in pursuit of the Ryuken and the Galedon Regulars, they were in danger of being defeated in detail. Rather than face the concentrated troops of the Sworders, the Dragoons retreated.
Their withdrawal was orderly. They knew, as did Minobu, that there would be other battles.
53
Trolfjel Highlands , Misery
Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine
20 May 3028
A pale glow on the horizon marked the coming dawn, and colors began to appear to Minobu's night-sensitive eyes. Another morning on Misery, another day of battle with Wolf's Dragoons. It was almost a month since that awful battle on the Opdal Glacier. The Kuritans had recovered somewhat from the bad beginning, but the fighting had continued week after week, with neither side gaining a clear advantage.
As the light grew, he watched men and women scurrying about the camp, stocky in their cold-weather gear. Through the speaker set into the transplex window, he could hear the faint sounds of the Techs powering up BattleMechs, getting them ready for their pilots. Reloads from the dwindling stocks of ammunition were being distributed to the machines.
He turned to the man who had stood by his side in silence for the last half-hour.
“It is time for you to rejoin your troops, Michi-san.”
“ Hai,Minobu- sensei.”
Minobu almost laughed at his protege's renewed use of the honorific. “This is hardly the time to let your rebellious streak show.”
“There may not be another time.”
Minobu's amusement evaporated. “Then you feel it, too. That this will be the last battle.”
“Hai, sensei.”
There seemed little to say.
“Fight well,” he enjoined Michi.
“I am samurai, sensei.It goes without saying.”
Michi's words pleased Minobu. The young man's inner strength had grown. He was no longer the unformed boy whom Minobu had taken on as an aide. Minobu reached out to touch the other man's shoulder. Looking down into Michi's dark eyes, he said, “I hope that each of my sons will grow to be as honorable a samurai, Michi Noketsuna.”
“Your sons should follow in your footsteps rather than mine, sensei.It is a path of great honor.”
Minobu restrained his emotion. “Enough, my young friend,” he said, dropping his hand. “There is a battle to fight and your place is out there. Go now.”
Michi bowed, deeply and respectfully. Minobu returned the bow, with proper consideration to his own superior rank.
Michi bowed again before pivoting on his heel and vanishing into the heatlock.
When next Minobu saw him, Michi was an anonymous figure under the bulk of cold-weather gear and goggled breath mask. Minobu watched through the transplex as Michi braced against the wind, heading for his 'Mech.
Like all the Kurita 'Mechs, the red Ostrocwas battered, and the hasty repairs necessary to keep it fighting showed in patches of armor coated only with dark antirust sealant. Battle and the harsh climate of Misery were taking their toll. It was small comfort to learn from the scout report that, even with their superb technical staff, the Dragoons were showing the strain as well. A month of constant skirmishes and several pitched battles had worn them all down. Neither side would be able to endure the pressure much longer.
Things might have been different if Samsonov hadn't deserted them. Twice after the disastrous first battle, Minobu had maneuvered Wolf into committing his whole force. Twice the signal for Samsonov's attack had gone out. Twice the Warlord's regiments had not arrived, and Minobu's command had barely extricated themselves before being overwhelmed.