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38
Cingulum
Mirach
9 May 3133
“Welcome aboard, Lieutenant,” shouted the pilot over the rotor noise. Austin recognized her as an FCL technician in spite of the Home Guard insignia she now wore.
“I didn’t know you could fly a Lamprey, Sergeant Posner.” Austin swung into the rear infantry bay next to the machine gun mounted in a side door and started to strap himself into a drop seat.
“I learn fast, sir. I’ve always liked choppers and spent a lot of time in simulators, so the Legate stuck me in one. You thinking on using that gun, Lieutenant?” Posner called back. “Put on the door gu
“See how fast you can get us to the fighting, Sergeant,” Austin said, taking her advice, getting out of the drop seat and climbing into the web harness. He had barely finished cinching up the broad straps when the helicopter surged, shooting upward like a rocket as Posner applied full lifting power to the rotors.
Austin found a helmet and put it on, checked to be sure he could speak to the pilot, then dropped the face guard to keep the whipping wind from making his eyes water. He wanted to see everything. And from five hundred meters, he did. Austin turned grim as he stared down at the destruction Governor’s Park had sustained that he had been unable to see from ground level. The Behemoth had left deep ruts and the lighter Condors had chewed up a considerable amount of landscaping, but the real demolition had come from the fight between the BattleMech, the IndustrialMech, and the invading force.
A catch came to Austin’s throat when he saw the damaged bulk of Sergeant Death sprawled on the ground. As the VTOL gained forward speed, he spotted Manfred dutifully striding toward Cingulum in his modified ’Mech just beyond the park perimeter. The Lamprey flashed overhead at its top 150-kilometer– per-hour speed, leaving Manfred to plod along. Austin started to wave, then heard an explosion that brought him around.
He cycled on his helmet faceplate magnification and studied the city. Ahead he saw amber lasers licking across the Atlas. The BattleMech struggled to avoid the punishment as it replied with its own lasers. The explosion had come from a tank being hit by return fire. Austin couldn’t tell what type of tank had been destroyed—he was still too far away to look down into the urban canyon formed by the buildings. But the secondary, internal magazine explosion told him it was unlikely any of the crew escaped.
“Where to, Lieutenant? The middle of the action?” Sergeant Posner spoke to him now over the radio in his helmet.
“Circle the fight. I need to see what we can do to help out most.” He clung to a handhold welded on the side of the Lamprey as Posner banked sharply. Austin saw the battle centered in Havoc. Many buildings had been destroyed, leaving mountains of debris. Sharp, shining steel beams poked out of the rubble like bones of a skeleton. Worst of all were the immense craters that had been blown in the ground. Some were deep enough to swallow the Atlas whole.
“The BattleMech’s taken some serious damage, Lieutenant,” the pilot said. “It’s not putting up much of a fight. Not shooting unless it’s shot at. But it doesn’t look to be in immediate trouble.”
“When the ’Mech does respond, it’s pinpointing its target. No collateral damage, if it can avoid it.” Austin knew the orders had to go beyond that. Keep loss of life to a minimum. The Atlas had been given the unfortunate task of restoring order while faced with armored units of the Home Guard and not just unarmed, unarmored rioters.
“Whoa!” Posner exclaimed, the helicopter sideslipping suddenly. Austin was glad he had fastened the harness. He was thrown outward and might have tumbled from the Lamprey otherwise. “We’re taking fire from below. What do you want to do, Lieutenant?”
“You’ve got missiles. Respond,” Austin ordered. The VTOL shuddered as Posner launched a salvo of four SRMs. The smoke trails snaked off toward the ground, but Austin couldn’t tell if the pilot hit her target. The Lamprey banked sharply to avoid return fire. Austin saw LRMs shrieking past, almost close enough for him to reach out and touch them. The helicopter was too lightly armored to withstand a full salvo, but Posner showed great skill avoiding potential disaster.
“Their battle armor is moving in on the Atlas,” Austin radioed to Posner. “Get us down where I can do some work keeping the mites off the giant’s leg.”
“I’m trying to contact the Atlas, sir. Radio signal’s jammed.”
“Elora,” Austin grumbled. Louder, he said, “Keep trying to signal the BattleMech to clear out. There’s no reason for it to stand and take a beating.”
“It’s built to take punishment,” Posner said. As if to prove her claim, the BattleMech took a full barrage of missiles. It lost a small amount of armor on the left torso, possibly damaging its own SRM launcher, but otherwise shrugged off the assault.
Austin knew the Atlas could withstand repeated attacks, but that wasn’t why it had been built. It had been constructed to dish out destruction.
The chopper swung around and then dropped like a rock between tall buildings. Posner flew at ten meters above the street, flashing over a battle-armored squad moving quickly toward the BattleMech. She pulled back sharply, spun about 180 degrees, and put Austin in position to fire.
He gripped the machine gun and drew back the loading lever. He hesitated for a moment, then opened up. The machine gun chattered noisily as it spat out leaden death. The stream of bullets stitched across concrete and asphalt and caught the leading battle-armored soldier squarely. The heavy bullets sang off the armor and knocked the trooper back.
Then the VTOL suddenly rose. Austin lost his balance and swung out, looking straight down. The squad he had fired on had scattered, taking cover. They wore Hauberk armor and all trained their lasers on the Lamprey. Austin saw the laser fire miss, splashing against nearby buildings, blowing off hunks of steel, vaporizing glass and filling the air with concrete dust.
Posner swung back and Austin got into position. The machine gun sights swept across the battle-armored squad again, and Austin squeezed off a long burst. He saw the squad leader jerk about, then smash into the ground facedown. A muffled explosion lifted the ton of battle armor up and dropped it down. Austin had struck the missile launcher and the soldier’s own armament had destroyed the armor.
And the soldier.
Then the helicopter flashed past and Posner climbed fast.
“Tank,” she said needlessly as a football-sized hunk of nickel fired from a Gauss rifle seared past.
“Behemoth,” he agreed. “Moving in on the BattleMech. Any luck getting in touch with the Atlas?”
“None, but I’ve picked up comm on a different frequency. One used by the AWC.”
The VTOL shuddered as autoca
“The MechWarrior is pretty clever,” Posner radioed. “He’s using the rubble well to keep away the attackers, but he’s ru
“Patch me through on the AWC frequency,” Austin said. He sca