Страница 64 из 72
Sooner than he had expected, as it turned out.
But Noritomo had not brought his people through unprepared. Stepping out right behind the Jousts, he levered both arms forward and rammed several hundred rounds of eighty-millimeter slugs into one Destroyer’s front. Following up with lasers, he sliced deep, angry wounds into the hovercraft.
The Schmitt rolled out behind him, turning in to the second Destroyer while both Jousts hooked back to slash with their own large lasers.
The battle looked to be decided right there. But Star Commander Yulri had not expected easy prey, and he had known better than to sacrifice his assault craft. From a nearby stand of ponderosa pines, his Mad Cat III leaned out to stab lasers in Noritomo’s direction. Missile launchers belched gray smoke, dumping twin flights of long-range missiles into the air. The warheads hammered down around his position, chewing rock into gravel and sand, slamming into his Gyrfalcon’s chest and shoulders.
One pair of warheads rang a one-two punch into the side of his head, shaking him against his harness, leaving him disorientated for several critical seconds.
Enough for the Destroyers to power up their drive fans and skate for the safety of some rocky, scrub-covered hills. The Schmitt continued to pound at one of them, using its rotary autoca
Lighting off jump jets, he side-skipped over in front of one SM1 Destroyer—the Stormhammers’ Destroyer as it turned out—taking its best punch and forcing it to swerve back in toward the Jousts. Still rattled from the missile strikes as well as the assault ca
Which brought the hovercraft directly under the Jousts’ main weapons. More laser blasted out with angry, ruby knives, carving though the damaged skirt and fouling the lift vanes beneath.
The hovercraft bottomed out as its cushion of air spilled free, and what was left of the spi
The tank jumped up and spun, tossed like a petulant child’s toy. Through luck, it came down right side up, striking sparks between metal and stone as it ground to a halt.
Noritomo saw the steering rudders slam over to the left. Knew that the hovercraft’s main drive fans were still turning. But in his mind’s eye, he had already written off the Destroyer as scrap. Maybe salvageable. Maybe not. So he was just as surprised as his Joust crew when the drive fans had enough push left in them to turn the SM1 in its final slide.
A few degrees to the right was all it needed. Turning in fits and starts as if mounted on some kind of turret-style base.
Turning directly into the face of the lead Joust.
A long tongue of flame licked several meters out of the Destroyer’s barrel, flaring into a burning rose as the autoca
What was left could hardly be called a vehicle, much less a military machine.
“Neg, neg!” Noritomo tried to bring his people back under control as the remaining Joust and the Schmitt hammered again at the crippled Destroyer. He actually had to wade his Gyrfalcon into the line of fire, taking a few scattered shots before he was able to save the Stormhammer crew from being torn to pieces.
The Mad Cat III dumped another double load of missiles over the party, then ducked away to catch up with the escaped Destroyer.
Noritomo weathered the missile barrage with hunched shoulders and a careful hand on the control stick. “Stay out of its angle,” he ordered. “Transport, drop two Elementals on top of that tank and bring me the crew alive!”
He’d have bondcords strapped to their wrists before the day was out. Such effort! Perhaps they would not care for the Clan practice of claiming warriors, but if they could be educated, they would make fine additions to his Cluster.
Bogart, freeborn himself, would train them well.
Seeing the mangled wreck the Destroyer had made of his Joust, Helmer reaffirmed once again it would take a great deal of cu
“It can be done,” he said, promising himself as much as anyone. “But carefully. Carefully.” A Joust for a Destroyer was a good trade on any tally sheet, but armies could not take and hold cities with tally sheets.
“These Steel Wolves and Stormhammers earned some breathing room with this battle,” he whispered.
“Just enough time for them to contemplate the end.”
34
Miliano Basin
Skye
22 December 3134
The brush fire spread over several kilometers, dancing bright licks of flame along the ground as it jumped from brambles to bush, skated among the dry grasses. Sooty wisps of smoke gathered into patchy clouds. Dark streamers of ash spiraled into the overcast sky.
Vehicles charged from one dark island to another. Sometimes they rolled over flaming debris, sending up bright swarms of sparks that immediately drew attention. Other times, they skirted around such obstacles in an effort to keep their course from being seen.
Armored infantry also used the darker sworls of ash and smoke to hide behind, covering their advances, their retreats, always ready to leap out in ambush.
BattleMechs, though, could not hide.
Tara Campbell certainly could not, at the controls of McKi
Light autoca
Still getting used to the assault ’Mech, a large step up from her poor Hatchetman, Tara pulled crosshairs down over the Uziel, too slowly, and had to shift them over to an M1 Marksman when the fifty-ton machine slipped back out of range. Her lasers burned large, red-tinged wounds into the Marksman’s side armor. The Gauss slug punched in behind, rocking the machine up and then slamming it back down again with incredible force. The turret barrels sagged. More smoke littered the air. On her HUD, its red icon faded from the cluttered battlefield.
Not too bad, she decided, grading her performance.
Then a brace of long-range tactical missiles punched the Atlas in the chin, sending her stumbling back, arms windmilling for balance.
Not too good either.
Fighting against gravity, Tara planted one foot behind her and kept the Atlas on its feet. Her vision was hazy and her ears rang, but already she was searching for the new threat. Too late again.