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"Striker One! Do you read?"
"We... hear... you!" Ramage sounded like he was gasping for breath.
"We've picked off our targets, but two big brothers are on their way down the mountain. You have ten minutes!"
"I copy! We're almost... Ma
"Do you have the transport?"
"We have it. It's on the way."
One of the most important vehicles in any 'Mech Lance technical platoon was a transporter, a huge, broad, powered sled used to recover and carry 'Mechs damaged on the battlefield. Until now, the Lancers did not have such a vehicle. Their only alternative hads been to take one from the bandits.
The Lancers' new transporter had been brought to Trellwan as part of a trade agreement with the Commonwealth long before Carlyle's Commandos had arrived. More sophisticated models bore their loads on air cushions. This one was an older, wheeled vehicle. Each of its eighteen tires was twice the height of a man, and a single drum winch secured 2 cm cross-braided diamond monofilament cables for recovery operations. Striker Two had been assigned to cause whatever damage they could to the spaceport facilities, but capturing the giant 'Mech transporter was their primary mission. And now, transporting the Waspwould be their first operation.
Grayson was already preparing the Waspto be hoisted when the transporter arrived on the scene. The Locustdid not have manipulative members like most humanoid 'Mechs, but there were cleats and rings to which cables could be attached. Troops from the tacforce hovercraft swarmed across the downed Wasp, securing it with heavy cables and passing these up through the eyes of the Locust'stow rings.
The transporter arrived at the apex of a gradually dispersing cloud of dust and was positioned alongside the Wasp.With the Locustsupplying the muscle power, they eased the Wasphalf up off its back until it rested on its heels, then swung around 45 degrees and lowered it back down to a ramp that extended back behind the transporter deck to the desert floor. Working swiftly, men used the vehicle's winch and three-meter pry bars to work the damaged 'Mech into place, and then the transporter's winch hauled the ramp and its 20-ton burden aboard.
Black smoke boiled into the cold green sky above the spaceport. Seconds later a pair of dull thumps sounded across the desert, followed by the rattle of small arms fire in the direction of Mount Gayal. From where his 'Mech surveyed the edge of the port, Grayson could see the brooding, truncated pyramid of the Castle halfway up the slope.
"That'll be our friends," Grayson told Sergeant Larressen. "What do you think? Can we manage the Stingertoo?"
Larressen stood close by the Locust'sleft foot, gloved hands on his hips, puffs of white vapor issuing from his mouth in the frigid air. He was breathing hard after the struggle to raise the Wasp.
"We can try." He panted a bit over the radio circuit. "The question is whether we can move it once we get it up."
"Try it"
The Locusthelped maneuver the transporter sled across the sand to the side of the fallen Stinger,and they repeated the loading process. The ramp was long and broad enough for only one 'Mech, and so the Stingerhad to be piled on top of the Wasp.As the Locustbacked the Stingeronto the heap, Larressen detailed eight men to retrieve the 'Mech's arm from the sand 50 meters away.
"Striker One, this is Three."
"Yeah, Three. Go."
"Can't hold 'em much longer. We ambushed 'em with rocket launchers, but it didn't slow them down. The Shadow Hawkis closing on us, while the Marauderis still headed toward you... and we can't do a damn thing about it."
"Right Scatter your mines and, withdraw. We're rollng."
"On our way."
Grayson gave the go-ahead to the transporter's driver, who was perched in the vehicle's cab high above the desert, almost at shoulder level with Grayson's 'Mech. The vehicle was rated for 60 tons, but the pair of 20-to
Grayson opened a combat cha
"Striker One, this is Two!"
"Go ahead, two."
"Ramage, Lieutenant. We've got a bit of a problem here."
Grayson closed his eyes. Problems just now were what they did not need. "What is it?"
"Civilians, sir! A couple hundred of them! We got into a firefight with sone sentries. Turned out they were guarding a quonset hut full of prisoners."
"What's the problem?"
"God, Lieutenant, how're we supposed to get them out of here? Half of 'em are sick, and none of 'em fit to run ten klicks back to town!"
Suddenly, Grayson had a mind's eye image of the prisoners — shocked, weak, tired, and nowhere to go. He remembered Renfred Tor saying the bandits' prisoners would end up as slaves, remembered Claydon's pain at the memory of his mother. He couldn't leave those people to the mercy of the bandits. Twisting the Locust'scontrol stick, he urged the machine into a lurching, thudding run. Once across the shredded remnants of the spaceport fence, he pressed toward the sound of gunfire.
Machine gun fire howled and whined from the damaged armor of the Locust'shead. Grayson swung his 'Mech, tracing IR shadows of hidden men. The Locust'smachine guns stretched out with lazy, probing streams of tracers, then ignited a hastily constructed barricade of fuel drums and wooden crates. As the barricade exploded into mere dust and splinters, Grayson's external mike picked up a ragged cheer from men trotting out from cover. Their tired faces were blackened with grime, and many were missing helmets and other gear. Several were being helped along by unwounded comrades, but his men still had the strength to cheer.
The former prisoners, however, were dazed and uncomprehending. The assault team had liberated a half-dozen scout hovercraft from somewhere in the port, and these were crowded to overflowing with the weakest and sickest of the ex-prisoners, and with some of the women. From the shattered windows of the port control tower, tracers flashed and spat, seeking the refugees. A soldier screamed, thrashing on the ferrocrete. The Locust'smachine guns fired again, and broken glass and fragments of stone showered from the tower to the ground.
"Sergeant Ramage!"
"Sir!"
"Check those buildings over there." From his higher vantage point, Grayson could see what looked like storage sheds to the north. The Locustgestured with a gun arm. "See if you can round up more vehicles."
"Sir!"
"Striker Four!”
“We're here!"
"You're going to have to run interference for us. Go for the Marauder!Slow him down!"
There was no response, but Grayson didn't have time to pursue it. The hovercraft carrier's commander must be in shock with orders like that
"Transporter!"
"Yessir!"
"Change of plan! Swing north toward the port. You'll have some passengers.”
“Yessir!"
His console warned him of probing radar. "Move it men! We're out of time!" Explosions echoed across the desert. The Marauderwas there, four kilometers off and closing with ponderous, slow-motion strides. The hovercraft peeled off to meet this new menace, snarling low across the wastes to loose missiles and pulses of laser light.