The Price of Glory

Another trench lay concealed there within the brush, but it was empty now, its occupants long since fled. Looking about him, Ramage realized that he was now quite alone, cut off from any friendly troops. He scavenged through the bottom of the trench, searching for a weapon. Apart from some spent shell casings, there was nothing. He glanced back up the hill. The Locustwas still there, its pilot on the ground in the shadow of the crouching body, apparently working on the damaged ankle joint.

As he turned away, movement caught his eye farther down the hill. The Waspstrode forward out of the dust and battle fog, its Diverse Optics medium laser cradled high in its metal arms. Ramage watched it come, helpless to do a thing about it. From seventy meters away, he could see the missile pod cover above the joint of its left leg pop up, exposing a pair of stubby black tubes.

My God, the bastard's after me,Ramage thought. He's got me nailed!The machine's pilot had seen him—or his trench—and was preparing to open fire with deadly, short-range missiles.

Ramage scrambled back up out of the trench. The tubes spat fire, and a pair of SRMs shrieked across the short distance between the Waspand Ramage's temporary shelter. The twin explosions caught Ramage in the back, lifting him clear of the ground and hurling him with unimaginable violence up the hill.

The universe was engulfed by an all-consuming darkness before he hit the ground.

9

Static continued to crowd the tactical frequencies, growing louder and harsher as Grayson's 'Mech column closed on the DropShips. There was no way a message could be punched through that interference even to alert Use Martinez that his 'Mechs were on their way. The interference was so bad that communications between the 'Mechs of the two lances was becoming difficult.

"Motion, Gray," Lori warned from her Shadow Hawk.He could barely hear her through the jamming noise. "Sector front-center. Reads like a skimmer, at range . . . eight hundred meters."

Grayson's Marauderpaused, its weapons-heavy forearms swinging into combat attitude. An armed skimmer posed little risk to a BattleMech, but it was never wise to take chances. Skimmers loaded with plastic explosives had been known to make suicide runs that had shattered 'Mechs or caused massive damage to control and actuator systems.

Brush thrashed aside 500 meters ahead, and a small, two-place skimmer whipped into view. Grayson removed his hands from the Marauder'sfiring controls. The skimmer was a Legion scout craft. The lone pilot wore the camouflage greys of a Legion trooper.

"All units, hold fire," Grayson ordered. "It's a messenger! “

The messenger echoed the sentiments with a message of his own. "Don't shoot, Colonel!" he yelled, his light voice transmitted by the Marauder'sexternal audio pickups. "I've got a message from Captain Martinez!"

It was easier for Lori to unbutton her Shadow Hawk'scanopy and hope to get it sealed again than it was for Grayson, whose Marauder'segg-shaped body was massively armored and sealed. The hatch on top of her cockpit swung aside, and Lori's helmeted head appeared in the opening. "We recognize you! What's the message?"

"The Captain says the DropShips are under attack! She says the infantry line isn't holding, and the 'Mechs at the ship aren't going to last long! The enemy's attacking with at least ten 'Mechs, maybe more! She sent me to try to find you ... to warn you ..."

"You did well," Lori said. "Fall in behind our column, and stay clear when the shooting starts." A moment later, her voice came across on the tac band, heavily filtered by the static. "We don't have much time, Gray."

"I know. Let's pick up the pace." He could hear the firing, like the distant rumble of summer thunder coming from straight ahead, over his 'Mech's pick-ups.

As his Maraudersurged into motion again, Grayson fretted about the lance of BattleMechs he had left on guard with the DropShips. Lieutenant Roget had some combat experience, as did Graff, but Vandergriff and Trevor were unknown quantities. Though they were no longer apprentices, their lack of actual combat experience meant Grayson could not rely on them in a BattleMech firefight. That was why he had left the lance behind to mount guard. He had expected a fight at Durandel.

He had not expected the Marik forces to respond as quickly as they had, however, with this headlong race to seize his DropShips.

The 'Mech column crested a low ridge, and suddenly the battle noise was louder, a thundering roar that rumbled on and on, the crackle of small arms fire interspersed with missile explosions and the rapid-fire thud of BattleMech autoca

The jamming was louder, too. Grayson heard Lori saying something over the radio, but he couldn't make out her words. He recognized other voices as well—Davis McCall's and Hassan Khaled's among them—but the words were drowned in the hissing sea of static.

Grayson thought furiously. It was obvious that the enemy had elected to fight according to a set plan. Indeed, that was the only possible approach when using jammers, for there was no way either side could communicate changes of plan or issue new orders. Though the jamming put the Gray Death at a disadvantage, the attackers were operating at a handicap as well. With no way to issue new orders, they would be slow and cumbersome in reacting to the unexpected.

And Grayson Death Carlyle was a master of doing the unexpected in battle.

His motion sensor was chirping a steady, monotonous pinging at him, showing something large moving across his front. He twisted the Marauderfive degrees right and stepped up the speed. The land here was gently sloping, but heavily screened by light woods and boulders, some of them as big as a house. It was impossible to see more than a few tens of meters in any direction.

Trees parted for Grayson's Marauder. A Thunderboltrose above the low-twisting trees eighty meters ahead, its out-sized arms hanging apelike on either side of its massive, black-painted body.

Grayson's Marauderoutweighed the other 'Mech by ten tons, but the Thunderbolthad the edge in armament. Its right arm-mounted Sunglow Type 2 heavy laser was one of the largest lasers ever carried by a BattleMech. It was backed up by a massive, tube-shaped LRM rack slung across its left shoulder, a battery of medium lasers and short-ranged missiles in its torso, and a pair of heavy machine guns in its left arm. The Thunderboltwas armored to match its weaponry, with heavier armor than the Marauder'sin some key places.

Grayson knew that the Thunderbolt'sweakness was that so much weaponry generated a hell of a lot of heat. Thunderboltssuffered more from heat build-up than many other 'Mechs, and that fact would work to Grayson's advantage.

Or rather, it couldwork to his advantage, if he had the time to exploit it. Grayson's immediate concern was the situation back at the DropShips. This Marik Thunderbolthad obviously been thrown past the LZ positions to block just such a movement as his. Grayson did not have time to play tag with the Thunderbolt,and it would take time to wear his opponent down to the point where heat became a serious concern.

The one certain way to knock out a heavy 'Mech fast was to concentrate overwhelming firepower against it. Grayson knew that such a maneuver took quick timing and good communications. The Gray Death Company had no communications at all at the moment, but they did have a considerable body of shared experience and training to draw on. It might work, but it would have to be done quickly.