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Longer, if Mai Wa kept the level of fury escalated through attacks such as these.
More ru
“Greggor, set up behind the blockade. You and Phelps, standard loads, no inferno.” Too many people ru
And it was all he had time for, as a shout of “Tank!” and “Pegasus!” warned him of the hovercraft’s arrival.
“I want it taken,” Mai shouted for the benefit of his people. He coughed, clearing the taste of ash that clawed at the back of his throat. “When it brakes for the turn, swarm round it!”
The armored scout craft was painted white and gold, and bore the Roman profile crest common to the Principes Guards. Racing into the intersection from the western street, it turned a tight one-eighty spin and used its drive fan to powerstop rather than mow through the rioters and looters. People in the east-facing street were blown off their feet by the sudden zephyr.
The Pegasus would be vulnerable only for a few seconds. “Now, now, now!” Mai shouted. “Xiàn-zài! Xiàn-zài!” His small military team raced forward under the cover of rioters who threw paving stones and bottles—some filled with gasoline, bursting into a spread of flames that might scorch the hovercraft’s paint, but could do no lasting damage.
Showing disciplined restraint, the Pegasus crew did not use its twin SRM launchers to drive the crowd back. Such carnage would only fuel the mob. The gu
The crew had had enough, and the Pegasus fishtailed around in search of an escape path. It pushed forward, driving over two civilians who stood in the way. With a buzzing growl like a lawnmower ru
But the Ijori Dè Guāng crew, coming in from the sides as they’d been taught—taught well, Mai noticed with no small amount of personal pride in Evan’s accomplishment—grabbed at vents and grills or leapt up for a full-body grab on the vehicle’s sloped side. The Pegasus spun madly, throwing several of them back off as it cookie-cut a path closer and closer to the impromptu barricade.
Greggor stepped around one side, took aim and waited for the launcher he held to acquire lock. Thumbing the activation stud, he sent one missile directly into the back of the hovercraft, damaging the steering vanes.
The Pegasus looped into a wide curve, slammed nose first against the side of the barricade, and stalled for several painful seconds.
Enough time for a freedom fighter to plant a small sticky-bomb on the crew hatch, light it and scurry back behind the swinging turret. Mai heard the loud pop. Two men wrestled the hatch open and another sprayed the inside with flechettes from a needler. The Ijori Dè Guāng began pulling wounded men from the vehicle, passing them to waiting hands.
Several rebels had vehicle training. Mai pointed out two of them. “Get that hovercraft back to the Conservatory. Watch yourselves at the gate. Go.”
He readjusted his armored vest again, appointed another man to command the intersection, and then led his diminishing team further into Chang-an. A new street. New recruits. More mayhem to spread on the back of the mob’s rage.
Eventually, Legate Ruskoff would order in BattleMechs and massed infantry to quell the disturbances. Most of the in-city forces were currently gathered around the capital buildings, but they would be released when the Governor assured herself that no organized force threatened her position. Mai certainly pla
“Yet look at what we have accomplished,” he said aloud, then coughed again. It made him wonder. How much more would the Confederation regiments on Liao gain this day? The next?
“And how long before the militia comes for us?”
Because they would have to, Mai knew. The Conservatory could not be allowed to stand in rebellion for much longer. Not after this day.
The sky darkened, dusk turned to artificial twilight as a gray haze thickened over the suburbs of Yiling. Still dressed in MechWarrior togs, Evan Kurst pulled the motorpool jeep over the curb and parked on the grass outside of Bartoe Hall, Je
On-campus defenders had been kept far busier. From the front of the dormitory Evan looked between an administration wing and one of the lecture halls, out toward the western gate. An M1 Marksman had forced its way through, deciding that the unrest in Yiling was especially brutal because of the Conservatory’s closeness. Calling on other Republic loyalists to rally, it made the first attempt to penetrate the grounds.
Its corpse continued to smoke, even now. The taste of burnt fuel oil hung heavy in the air, and left a slick grime coating Evan’s teeth and tongue. Two sharp reports made him glance into the sky, thinking of artillery fire. Colorful red and blue chrysanthemums blossomed and melted over Yiling.
New Year’s fireworks. That was all.
Evan took the inside stairwell three steps at a time, pushing his tired muscles as he forced his way up to the fourth floor. Je
Tori glanced down the hall and nodded at an open door. “She’s there.”
Evan slowed his pace, a load of worries dropping away. One of the reports he’d picked up was that Jen Ly
She was standing at her window, drapes ripped away and left in a pile against the wall. Je
“Franklin Delaray,” she said, catching Evan rubbing flakes of dried blood between his fingers. He had picked it off the jacket sleeve. “I was coming back inside the walls—went out to check our forward posts—and a pair of Condors hit the main entrance right behind me. Franklin was in a Regulator II. It took a savage beating, but he refused to back off. A Pack Hunter showed up, then a Jessie. They drove the Condors off.”