On yet another planet, the Avengers had suddenly been recruited for a salvage operation: four Mechs still smoking from battle, needing to be towed away before scavengers could retrieve them.
Four Mechs for four Mechs: that seemed to be the right size for the Lance going down to conduct the operation. That would be Katarina in her new Wraith, Justin in the family Grasshopper, Jess in the Trebuchet and Armando in a Spider.
Allen nodded to his younger brother Justin, pleased at the younger man’s recent change of demeanor and focus on his skills in the Grasshopper he piloted. Justin still could use some work on his basic piloting skills, but he was becoming a crack shot with the PPC and lasers he carried. Allen knew these skills would be very helpful in future skirmishes.
Katarina approached, all business as usual when a mission was at hand. “Don’t worry: this will be a simple in and out. We shall be back before you know it.”
She climbed into the Wraith and secured the hatch. Justin and the other two followed suit, the Mechs then being secured into drop pods for the trip to the surface.
Allen waved goodbye as the pods were activated and dropped. “Godspeed to you,” he murmured.
The drop went uneventfully, all four Mechs arriving safely on the border of the craggy canyon where the Mechs had fallen in combat. Mech carriers were waiting for them: transports that could carry the damaged units across the plains to repair facilities that could restore the Mechs to their respective capabilities. The carriers just weren’t capable of negotiating the rough terrain in which the battle had occurred.
“Rescue Team Alpha, this is the Avengers. We’ll assist in the recovery operation. Just sit tight, we’ll bring them right here to you.” Justin reassured the carrier pilots.
Just then Justin’s long range sensor board lit up: three drop pods were descending towards the other edge of the canyon.
“Competition incoming!” he announced over the comm. “Let’s step lively, get this recovered before they can close!”
He, Katarina and Armando all jumped into the canyon using their jump jets: Jess, in the Trebuchet, had to work her way down the rough terrain. Justin took notice.
“Queen of Spades, you take the closest target. We’ll go for the rest.”
Fortunately he had already determined the 40-ton smashed Assassin would be manageable for the 50-ton Treb. The two Mechs further out were also light enough for the Spider and the Wraith: the fourth Mech was a 55-ton Wolverine, light enough that he could maneuver it without too much trouble.
The open comm channel crackled to life. “This is Star Commander Jason of the Diamond Sharks. Leave this area now, or face our teeth!”
Justin groaned, and gritted his teeth. “This is Justin McGee of the Andurien Avengers. Blunt your teeth on our steel, and we’ll give you what for! These are our Mechs and salvage, not yours!”
“Justin McGee? So we meet again. Did I not pound some sense into you last time, boy?”
Justin resisted the urge to use the “Bub” moniker which had cost him so dearly last time.
“Call me hard-headed. None of your Clan batchalls this time: we straight out fight for it.”
“Very well, savage. So be it.”
Jess had found a high point to stand on, and fired her LRM’s at the oncoming Clanner who was approaching her appointed downed Assassin. Both sets of missiles hit, raining down a hail of destruction on the lighter Viper. “Eat fire, Clanner!”
The Viper fired back with Clan ER medium lasers but missed, and Jess quickly hopped down from her perch and ran towards her objective. Based on the laser fire, her Identify Friend or Foe program reclassified the Viper as Type A, not Prime.
Armando jumped across two rocky ridges to land next to the downed Commando just before another Clanner landed close by. Armando opened fire with his two Medium Pulse lasers and struck both times, but took an ER Large laser hit and a few SRM shots in return. The Spider staggered, but stayed on its feet.
Justin reached the Wolverine just ahead of the Star Commander’s Grendel, opening fire as the Clan Mech landed. Four of his five medium lasers hit, knocking the Grendel off balance, though the Mech did not fall. Two of the Grendel’s shots hit but the others went wide, doing minor damage to Justin’s armor. He nodded to himself, unconcerned. That’s what armor was there for, after all.
Katarina had reached her Hatchetman, but was close enough to fire two shots at the Grendel, scoring twice and leaving deep gashes in the enemy’s side.
The two sides exchanged another couple of volleys, each taking damage but the Grendel most of all, facing two to one odds. Then the Star Commander spoke again.
“Cease fire. This salvage is not worth our Mechs. If we relinquish our claim on the salvage and withdraw, will you let us go in peace?”
Justin nodded. “Of course. We have no more wish to take damage than you do. Go in peace.”
The Clanners staged an orderly withdrawal, and the Avengers retrieved the fallen Mechs. Justin was jubilant: this would be a major payroll boost for them, and a feather in his cap in the eyes of Allen and Katarina.
“So, Katarina,” Justin asked, “How are you liking that Wraith?”
“It will do nicely,” Katarina responded, “Until we find a true Clan Mech with speed and more energy weapons. For Inner Sphere, it is not bad.”
The lead Clanner stopped in his Grendel and turned back towards the Avengers.
“You are seeking a fast Clan Mech with energy weapons? Perhaps a bit more armor than the one you are piloting?”
Justin’s eyebrow arched. “What is it to you? Not like Clanners to want to sell good Mechs to us freebirths.”
The Grendel spread its arms in what seemed like a shrug.
“The Diamond Sharks are nothing if not traders. Allow me to send some spec files.”
Shortly Justin was receiving graphics, charts and written data on what looked like some version of what the Inner Sphere had labeled the Thor; his IFF listed its correct title as a Summoner. He had to admit it looked like a powerful, dangerous machine: a fast runner and jumper with two Clan ER Large Lasers, heavy energy weapons with the longest range of any conventional weapon Justin knew of, two Clan ER Medium Lasers, almost 50% more powerful and ranged than their Inner Sphere equivalents, a targeting computer for greater accuracy, heat sinks to manage all of its destructive power, then machine guns and anti-missile systems and two tons more armor than the Wraith.
“Impressive,” came Katarina’s voice over the comm, “though I see it still relies on ammunition for the machine guns and anti-missile systems. I would have no use for such items: I could much better use a couple of Pulse Lasers and to expand the targeting computer to cover for it.”
Again, the Grendel shrugged. “It is an Omnimech: everything is modular. I am sure if you wished to make such minor alterations you could find techs who could manage to do so.
“We would be glad to provide the Summoner as spec’d for a total fee of 25 million C-bills.”
Justin cleared his throat. “That is a very kind offer, Commander. We will of course have to consult with our Commander in regards to the expense and feasibility of such a purchase. Should we decide on it, how may we get in touch?”
The Star Commander broadcast a coded message that would route a communication to his unit.
“Very well. We look forward to doing business with you.”
“Likewise,” Justin responded. The Grendel turned and left, and Justin likewise turned to go.
* * * * * * * *
Later, back in Allen’s office, Allen reviewed the specs that Katarina had passed to him.
“It’s an incredible machine, I agree. But 25 million? That’s twice the cost of the Wraith, which means twice the repair expense!”
Katarina hugged him. “I know. But with the extra armor and double the offensive power of the Wraith, it is that much less likely to be hit in the first place.”
Allen frowned. “They will see you as the threat you really are. They will all target you and bring you down. You might be faster than the usual Mech, but not nearly as versatile and evasive as the Wraith. And there’s always the chance of an ace out there with a lucky shot. You have seen pilots come in with their Mechs in tatters because of one persistent Hunchback or Axman.”
He shook his head. “I can’t agree to this. Not only do I think it’s too dangerous for you personally, I think it squanders resources which could better be spent elsewhere. Just because we have the money in the bank doesn’t mean we should spend it there.”
It was Katarina’s turn to frown. “What if I earn the funds myself, doing battle in the Wraith? Then would you consider it?”
Allen sighed in exasperation. “You aren’t listening to me! The money is one reason, but your safety matters far more to me than a stack of C-bills.”
“Could I persuade you if I can beat your toughest tests in the simulators?” Katarina was nothing if not persistent.
Allen glared at her. “I should have you run some simulations just for you to see what could happen. Maybe that would be a good idea, regardless. But that doesn’t mean that if you win, I am consenting to anything at all: not even if you earned the money. I’d far rather spend that much on two or three good heavies that would strengthen our ranks going wide instead of high.”
Katarina hugged him again. “You couldn’t support three more Mechs: we only have two bays left, and you keep saying we should reserve those for salvage. Going with one Mech leaves us with one open bay.”
She sauntered out, knowing she had at least scored one point there.
* * * * * * * *
“Datamining? What do we know about datamining?”
Justin was perplexed. This didn’t sound at all like their usual jobs. Allen shrugged.
“Apparently we don’t have to know anything about it. We just have to get their techs safely into the buildings that house the megaplex computers, and the techs will do the real work. So: easy money.”
Justin snorted. “Like we haven’t heard that one a time or two. But it does sound easy.”
Allen nodded. “It shouldn’t take much: just a few troops to cover the techs while they go in.”
“What about any opposition? Guards, techs for the other side?”
“They will be chased away by reports of a chemical spill emitting poisonous vapors within the compound. They will be evacuated while our ‘Hazmat team’ goes in and ‘decontaminates the area.’”
Justin snorted. “Don’t you think they’ll be suspicious?”
Allen concurred. “I would imagine so. But the employer feels confident that they will get away with it. Something about only dealing with backup copies, not the live system.”
Justin pursed his lips. “I can see how that might work. Best of luck to them.”
Allen smiled. “That’s ‘best of luck to us.’ I am accepting the contract.”
* * * * * * * *
Justin kept a sharp lookout as the APCs sprinted for the compound. Armando’s voice crackled in over the comm.
“Boss, I’m reading forces approaching from the Southwest, behind that ridge. Looks like two light Mechs and a medium, plus maybe some vehicles. From speed and vibration, looks like hovercraft.”
Justin raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like us, except for the medium vs. my heavy. Wonder what they want.”
Shortly the vehicles approached over the ridge. The familiar outline of a Grendel appeared, with an equally familiar paint scheme. Justin rolled his eyes. IFF popped up a notification for him that merely confirmed what he already knew. He keyed the comm.
“Greetings, Star Commander Jason. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”
The Grendel now approached at a slower rate. “Greetings, Lieutenant Justin McGee. Are you guarding this facility for the owners? I would find that most regrettable.”
Something in the Commander’s tone caused Justin to make a decision: to go with the truth.
“Actually, no. We are guarding a team recovering some data from the complex computers.”
The Grendel stopped moving. Over the comm Justin could hear at first a chuckle, then progressing up to a full belly laugh. It was a moment before Jason could recover his composure.
“You are datamining? That is the point of our operation as well! I have brought a team who were supposed to hack into the computer systems to learn vital information for another assignment. I take it you have done the same?”
Justin couldn’t help but chuckle a bit himself. “Of course. They are entering even now, posing as Hazmat technicians.”
Jason crackled through the comm. “You created the hazardous leak as a pretense to evacuate their techs? We heard their distress broadcast on the comm, and figured we would take advantage.”
Jason paused for a moment. “I have no doubt that both of these teams are after the same information. Rather than our two teams fighting each other, what would you say to sharing the results? We could all avoid bloodshed and repair expenses. I even propose to grant you two million c-bills out of our pay for your people to do the data recovery, so ours do not have to.”
Justin considered. “Let me speak with the head of our team. If he agrees, we’re good. I suspect he will: if your hackers leave a footprint, much of the data will be altered at once and useless. My team has some approach that should not leave a trail.”
“How excellent!” exclaimed Jason. “By all means, speak with your team leader. I shall wait.”
Justin contacted the team leader and explained the situation. The leader fumed, then asked: “Okay: you’re saying that if we don’t go along with him, we either fight him off or his group invades the place and hacks the systems? That would blow our value out of the water. We want data that won’t be changed as long as they don’t detect a security breach.”
The man sighed, then nodded. “We’d far rather hand over data on our terms than have it compromised at once. Yes: I will tell my people to arrange the exchange. But that will take a bit longer: we’re going to need some excuse for why we hung out so long.”
“Got it.” It didn’t take Justin a minute to think of a reason for the delay. He called Jason back. “Okay: we will do the transfer once we have the data. But that creates a delay. We’re gonna have to stage things like we had a battle, blame the delay on you coming along.”
“Of course!” Jason no sooner answered than fired his ER Large and Medium Lasers in Justin’s direction. All lasers missed, but burned deep furrows into the ground. Justin barely had time to react before a second salvo came his way, this time two of the Medium Lasers carving swaths in his torso armor.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Now, wait a minute!” Justin sputtered: “This is staged, not a real fight!”
“Acknowledged, Lieutenant. But it would be unrealistic to suggest you battled against Clan Warriors and came away without a scratch. Nothing your armor techs can’t repair in half an hour.”
Two more lasers marked Justin’s legs, while the other two scorched the greenery behind him.
“Shall I return the favor? Leave you a little marked up?” growled Justin.
“Why? When their crews return, we will be long gone, ‘chased off’ by their new heroes. They will never see us, but you will be glorious in their eyes. Still, you had best fire a number of shots into the ground and the trees around here to make it look like a real battle field.”
Justin couldn’t argue with the Star Commander’s logic, and set to work slashing deep burns into the ground behind the Grendel. As he did so, the Grendel walked around the field and occasionally jumped, darting and hopping about as if in a real battle. Again Justin saw the logic, and began to do the same. The footprints of the Mechs would be glaringly obvious.
Soon the techs came out from the complex, trepidatiously as they saw the mock battle taking place. Justin and Jason broke off, and Justin approached the techs.
“You’ll be sharing data with these guys. Just load up their gizmos with whatever they ask for, then return to your APCs.”
As the techs met with each other, Jason called back on the comm. “Has your Commander had the chance to evaluate our offer?”
“They are considering it,” Justin replied. “Lots of details to work out, though. That’’s a very expensive machine with a high repair dollar figure. And the way these contracts are run, most of the time running that Mech would cut into the support squad we would otherwise be sending. I would say that the odds of getting the go-ahead don’t look good.”
“A shame,” commented Jason: “We would love to sell that Mech to you. Would they be more interested if we reduced the price, say, to 23 million?”
Justin sighed. “I don’t think the base price is as big of a factor as other issues. I can relay your discount offer to Allen, but that probably won’t be a deciding factor.”
“Understood. Still, mention it. We are willing to bargain.”
The two teams of techs separated, each returning to their respective vehicles. Justin raised his Mech’s arm in a salute to Jason. “As I believe your people say it: ‘well bargained and done.’”
Jason chuckled. “In certain circumstances, yes. I suppose it would apply here. Until next time, Lieutenant.”
* * * * * * * *
Some weeks later Katarina emerged fuming from the simulator cockpit. Allen came out from the master booth. Katarina shook her fist at him. “You cannot possibly call that a valid test! A battle against a Fafnir with two Heavy Gauss Rifles and the luck to core my Mech with two volleys? What are the odds of that happening in the real world?”
Allen took it all quietly. “I know it wasn’t quite a ‘fair’ match, but that’s part of the point. Your ratings make it very hard to sell your services in the Summoner with any kind of support crew. You’re just too expensive on your own.”
Katarina strode angrily towards Allen. “Can’t we discount my services, then? Let them know they are getting a bargain?”
Allen shook his head. “The prices are fixed by the Mercenary Review Board. I am not allowed to adjust them, as that would put us in unfair competition against lesser forces.”
“Svashri!” Katarina hollered. “Are these people trying to win battles, or stage tournaments?”
“A little of both,” replied Allen: “Most people want to see Mechs as their personal champions. No one wants a loser for their champion: nor a bully. The MRB tries to keep a balance so that everyone will respect the results of contests between Mech forces. But you in that Summoner would so far outclass anything else on the field that they can’t achieve that kind of balance. I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with that Wraith for a while longer.”
Katarina finally calmed down, slumping into a bench against the wall. “I miss my Horned Owl. Clan Pulse lasers with twice the range of your Inner Sphere counterparts. That was a Mech.”
“I’ve looked, my dear. But no one is selling a Mech like that. Unless your friends the Diamond Sharks can come up with something, it’s still the Wraith. Besides, the Wraith has almost twice the armor of your Horned Owl, and is faster to boot. You need a cross: the speed and armor of the Wraith, with the weapons of the Clans. Good luck finding that.”
Katarina pursed her lips. “Allen: what if that is the answer? Strip the Wraith of all its weapons, and replace them with the Clan equivalents?”
Her eyes flashed as she became excited by the idea. “Yes! What would the cost be for that? What we have already spent on the Wraith plus a million or less for the Clan weapons, and just mount them in the right places! We just need an experienced tech team to install and maintain the weapons, and we are all set!”
Allen considered the idea, then nodded cautiously. “That could work. It would keep you as fast and evasive as you are right now with double your weapons range. Besides, Clan weapons tend to weigh less than ours, and we could direct that weight to extra armor.”
“Or to a targeting computer?” Katarina popped up. “Can you imagine me targeting limbs to blow them off: or weak spots in the armor, or just tracking and hitting enemies that much better?”
Allen smiled. “Ever on the attack, my dear! If there is enough weight capacity after we add armor we can certainly add the computer, if the Clans are willing to sell that particular piece of technology. They might not be: we will have to check.”
“And what shall we call it?” Katarina mused. “It will be more than a Wraith: a more powerful, scarier kind of thing, though much the same…” Her eyes lit up. “Allen! Remember that classic literature you were reading to me the other night? The story about the boy wizard, and those horrible spirits that sucked the life out of people?”
Allen nodded, then comprehension dawned. “You want to call the new Mech a ‘Dementor’? How very appropriate! Yes, indeed!”
* * * * * * * *
“Greetings, Star Commander Jason. This is Commander Allen McGee of the Andurien Avengers, responding to your offer of a Summoner, Class D, for sale. At this time we have determined that the Summoner does not meet our needs, and will be turning down your kind offer.
“However, we would be interested in purchasing Clan versions of a Large Pulse Laser and two Medium Pulse Lasers, and possibly some assistance from your techs on installing them on an Inner Sphere Mech. If you would be willing to assist us in such a purchase, we would be most grateful. Please state your price estimate, terms and conditions.”
Allen leaned back in his chair at the terminal at the HPG station. There was no point in waiting for a reply: it would take the Sharks some time to process the request and compose an estimate. He took a sip of the drink that he had brought with him, stretched, and prepared to leave. Then he heard a chime from the console: a new message coming in. Curious, he keyed the Enter button to bring up the message.
“Greetings, Commander Allen McGee. We regret that you choose not to purchase the Summoner, but would be happy to assist you with your purchase of Clan weaponry.
“We have a counter proposal for you. We have an upcoming mission for which we could use some assistance: a base attack, goal of destroying a few critical buildings. The attack would be against a Kurita outpost, resistance forces likely to be nominal. We just need assistance to get enough forces on the ground to take out the targets quickly, be in and out in a couple of minutes tops.
“Should you be willing to assist us in this assault, we in turn will provide you not only with the requested lasers and assistance in their installation but also an equal number of backups in case the originals get damaged, all at no charge.
“Please reply promptly: we have limited time in which to initiate this action.”
Allen considered the request, then keyed in a quick reply.
“Your offer is intriguing. I do have some questions. How many forces would you wish us to commit? And how would we reach the target in time to carry out this operation?”
This time he stayed where he was at, waiting patiently for a reply.
“We can jump to your system at a pirate point, and have a Broadsword Class dropship to you within a week. Capacity is three Mechs and two large vehicle or infantry bays.
“We are looking for speed, not heavy firepower. Terrain should not prove a significant obstacle: hover vehicles a plus, battle armor a plus. Thank you for your prompt response.”
In a way, thought Allen, this would be an ideal run for his vehicle crews and powered armor squads. They had had little opportunity to use their skills in battle, and simulation combat could only hone their skills so far. The same applied for Bill Secor, his new Wolverine pilot. He typed in his response quickly.
“Your terms are acceptable. I volunteer a Wolverine and two experienced Spiders, two heavy hover APCs, a Phalanx squad and a Longinus squad. Will this meet your needs?”
“We could not ask for better. Expect pickup within the week.”
Allen returned to his Union dropship, the Purple Onion, and called in Justin and Katarina for a conference. He explained the Diamond Shark offer to them, and what he had offered. Katarina shifted uneasily in her chair.
“You are not sending me or Justin? What if more support is needed?”
“There’s no capacity for more support,” Allen replied: “Just three Mechs and two other bays. As described, this looks to be a milk run. And if things go south, Kenny and Armando will be there to provide experience and presumably support an orderly withdrawal.”
Justin considered, then shrugged. “Sounds good to me. You’re right: Bill and the squads and crews deserve a little field experience, and this sounds optimal. When do you tell them?”
“Tomorrow morning, after mess. We’ll call everybody in: the other pilots, crews and squads to prep for training exercises to hone experience for those who are going.” Allen ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “Remember: for us this is a minor exercise, but for many of these troops this will be their first taste of combat: a baptism by fire. We need to give them the best chance of survival possible. Train them rough, get them ready for the worst.”
Katarina nodded. “We will do our best, of course.”
* * * * * * * *
The Broadsword Grim Reaper landed without incident, and Kenny and Armando supervised the unloading of the APCs, the battle armor units already onboard.
“Be careful,” Armando instructed the vehicle crews: “There appear to be more trees than we expected. You will have to maneuver carefully to avoid damage.”
“Roger, boss!” The reply came back as the APCs slid down the ramp to the ground. Bill followed them down the ramp in his Wolverine. The two Spiders soared through the skies ahead of the rest.
To the North, Kenny spotted the Diamond Sharks contingent likewise unloading three Mechs, presumably with battle armor hanging off them. One was clearly Jason’s Grendel. One of the other Mechs took off with incredible speed, approaching 200 miles an hour. Kenny shook his head. “Damned Fire Moths! Glad they’re on our side this time!”
He scanned to the East, expecting a contingent of small buildings that would be their targets. To his surprise he found a walled compound housing a conglomeration of six to eight story buildings. He keyed the comm button.
“Hey, Jason! We were told just a few little buildings, no big deal! We’re not equipped for a full-out base assault!”
“Team leader,” the voice came back, “we do not need to destroy the whole base: only certain target buildings that I will pinpoint for you. If you are as fast as we are told, this should not prove a problem for you.”
A map of the compound popped up, with five buildings highlighted by targeting reticles. Kenny sputtered as he keyed the comm again.
“You mean to tell me you already knew it was a full scale base? I thought maybe you had gotten bad intel, thought it was smaller! You want us to commit to that?”
“A simple in and out. If you wish to relinquish the prize and gain our enmity, by all means withdraw.”
Kenny’s face colored. There were so few chances for him to lead a mission: how could he tell Allen he had turned tail and ran?
He switched comms to the private one between himself and the Avengers. “Everyone proceed as quickly as possible, but with eyes peeled. If we see serious opposition, you are to withdraw. Understood?”
He received a chorus of assents, and vaulted into the skies once again, trying to keep up with the APCs that were barreling along ahead of him. To his left Bill was charging along manfully through the plains trying to keep up with the hovercraft as well.
Then ahead of them he saw a Clan Mech flying through the air headed towards Bill. Clearly this Mech had as much jump capability as his own Spider. Was that a Dragonfly? He wondered. IFF popped up to announce it as Clan designation Viper, formerly known to the Inner Sphere as a Dragonfly, Class A. Even with fifteen tons more base weight, Bill would be totally outclassed by the faster Mech.
“Hang on, Bill!” Kenny shifted his direction to try to intercept the Viper, but was too far away to stop the first exchange of fire.
A volley of green lasers shot down at Bill, three of them hitting their mark, and followed up by a rain of missiles from an SRM6. Bill fired wildly up into the air, missing with the blue Large Laser and his own set of SRM6 missiles flying wide. He stumbled, nearly falling as a result of the impacts he had suffered, but remained standing.
On Kenny’s screen the Viper glowed red: the Mech had overconfidently fired all its weapons and was now seriously overheated. The Mechwarrior wouldn’t be able to repeat that attack soon without risking ammo explosions or even engine shutdown. Kenny had no such issue to be concerned about: his heat sinks were enough to compensate even if he jumped his full range and fired both Pulse Lasers. He came down as close to the Viper as he could manage and thumbed both firing switches. Miraculously both hit, tearing into the Viper’s left arm and side. The squat Viper did not stagger, but turned in Kenny’s direction just as he had intended.
The Wolverine recovered and opened fire again, this time hitting with three lasers and the SRM missiles just as the Viper opened fire on the Spider. The Viper staggered under the onslaught and its volley of lasers slashed large chunks out of the ground just in front of Kenny, but did no damage.
Kenny’s Pulse Lasers recycled, his reticle glowed green and he opened fire. Already off balance, the Viper fell onto its back and lay there smoking heavily. Kenny whooped in exaltation, then quickly scanned for the rest of his forces.
One of the APCs had swerved into the woods and was working to extricate itself. The other more cautious driver was steering carefully through the maze of trees towards the target. Armando was shepherding the forward hovercraft, watching for signs of opposition.
In another part of the field, a Nova had struck the Fire Moth in a leg and sent it tumbling into the woods. Now the Nova hovered, waiting for a shot at the Elementals crawling out from the wreckage.
The Grendel had made it into the compound and was blasting one of the target buildings. At the moment he seemed to be facing no opposition.
Kenny made a quick decision. “Avengers, proceed on course with mission.”
He jumped to where the APC was stuck in the woods, and lent a hand pushing them back into the clear. He registered Bill firing a few well-aimed shots at the Viper’s leg, destroying it and making it impossible for the other Mech to stand, before continuing towards the target.
The first APC made it into the walled compound and disgorged its troops. Armando flew up to target the roof of one of the target buildings with his pulse lasers.
Out in the field one of the Diamond Sharks’ Mechs appeared to have headed around to the other side of the compound, outside the walls. It was a useless position from a tactical standpoint: Kenny glared at the screen, but had no time to call out on the comm as he registered another Mech bay opening and a new opponent stepping out inside the compound.
As the IFF reading came up, Kenny gasped and exclaimed over the Avenger’s channel:
“Oh, shit! They’ve got a Mad Cat! That is, a Timber Wolf, Configuration Prime!
“Avengers forces, retreat! Return as quickly as possible!”
The 75-ton Timber would make mincemeat of any of his forces with the first volley it fired, he was certain. Far better he report this as a failure and return with all hands than come back alone or not at all.
Armando crackled over the comm. “The Phalanx team just unloaded. I’ll have to cover their retreat while they reboard.”
Kenny meant to protest, but Armando was right. The team deserved their protection, even if they were a minor asset. “Hang on! I’m with you!”
He soared over the last grove of trees and landed on the wall, a tall target but a fast enough mover he hoped he could avoid being hit. Perhaps if he and Armando distracted the Timber Wolf, it wouldn’t cremate the Phalanx team.
Just below him Bill had arrived at the gateway to the wall, and could now also see and target the Timber Wolf clearly.
“Open fire!”
All three Avengers Mechs fired on the Timber Wolf, scoring minor damage on its armor but hoping for that one lucky shot that might pierce through.
Lady luck, however, did not appear to be with the Avengers today. The Timber Wolf stood firm, and unleashed a barrage at the two Spiders.
Kenny gasped as a green laser laid open his right torso, smashing a jump jet, and a blue beam almost severed his right leg in one blow. Then came the hail of missiles, some of which struck his damaged leg and finished the job. He toppled off of the wall, crashing to the ground in a wreck that used to be a Spider Mech.
Through a haze of pain, his mind barely registered that his electronic systems seemed to be intact, including the comm and the battlefield display. His own right hip felt like it was broken, his right leg either broken or badly sprained, and his right arm was dislocated. Clearly he had fallen hard on that side. He reached clumsily for the comm with his left hand, and his voice croaked as he gave the word: “Avengers, retreat. Armando has the conn.”
On the battlefield display he saw the Timber Wolf approaching the symbol that represented his own Mech. He weakly raised his left arm, his right one paralyzed by the pain of the dislocation.
“Alright, already! I surrender.”
His viewscreen registered a stern Kuritan face. “This is Tai-i Komura, Seventeenth DCMS Regulars. What did you hope to gain in this unprovoked attack on our compound?”
“Sergeant Kenny Lewis here, Tai-i. Be damned if I know. We were told this was a small base encroaching on our employer’s territory, and to crush a few simple buildings. Then we were committed, couldn’t really get out of it. We got jacked as much as you did, Tai-i.”
It was mostly true, true enough to stand up to momentary inspection at least. If they interrogated him he’d have to get creative, but this should do for now.
“You have failed in your mission, Sergeant. Do you wish the honor of Seppuku?”
Kenny chuckled. “You mistake me for a man of honor, Tai-i. I prefer to live with my disgrace and see if I can redeem it sometime in the future. But thanks for the offer.”
Komura snorted his disdain. “If you and your gang of bandits can walk away from this compound, we will not waste missiles or energy to wipe you out. Go, and tell your employers these defenses will stand against whatever they wish to throw at us.
“But these Clan scum–”
The Tai-i’s face was replaced by gun camera footage of a PPC blasting the cockpit of the captive Grendel into a charred ruin.
“They have been trained in honor, as you have not. They have no excuse.”
Kenny grimaced in horror at the Star Commander’s fate. He hadn’t really gotten to know the man well, but they had been working together after all. He had no words in answer to the Tai-i; he felt sick to his stomach.
The Kuritan turned away, and Kenny tried to take stock of his situation. Hopefully he wasn’t bleeding internally; if he was he would be dead in minutes, long before they could pull him out of his cockpit. He fumbled left-handed for the medpack, then the spray hypo for internal injuries. In moments medtech nanites were at work mending what they could, stabilizing what they could not heal. Built-in anesthetics reduced his pain to manageable levels.
“Hey, Amigo? You okay in there?”
Armando was approaching, limping along with obvious actuator damage to the left leg. His face appeared on the viewscreen, replacing the image of the smoking cockpit.
“Not so hot, Buddy. Get me out of here, if you can.”
At least Armando was still walking, and Kenny sighed in relief. The other Spider reached down and lifted him up. By now the anesthetics had kicked in enough to where he did not gasp in pain at the movement.
“You lost your right leg, Amigo. I barely have my left. With the APC for a crutch, together we can make it out of this.”
The APC pilot moved up between them, assisting both of them to limp out of the compound and begin the long trek home.