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'That's good enough for now, Bryant We'll talk more about this later.’ Captain St George paused, then added, ‘Join the Sergeant and get ready to fall back. And try not to get lost on the way, trooper.’
‘Sir? Yes, sir.’ The Waspmoved off into the rain.
‘McHaigh?’
‘Aye?’
‘We've got what looks like the elements of a Steiner battalion on the front and the left. The forces Lipescue and I ran into were all members of Hansen's Roughriders, a merc unit of at least battalion-strength. We're outnumbered at least four or six to one on this front We can't hold out against that and their air superiority. Take Bryant and get back to Harris at the road.’
There was a moment of silence while the unit's top Sergeant took the information under consideration. ‘Any word from Battalion. Force Commander Keshii?’
‘Sergeant, the only thing I'm getting from Battalion is a lot of static. The 131st is being probed all up and down the length of the salient.’ To himself, the Captain said, They've probably already run out on us. damn It‘It might be a good idea if you keep to the center of the corridor as you fall back. Narrow our front to about one klick and form up as two lances. Then hold up with one while the other falls back. Like our thrust out, only in reverse.’
‘And in miniature, sir. Don't worry. I'll hold the babes together, and we won't lose touch with you and Lippy.’ With that the Sergeant broke contact, gathered Bryant, and moved off.
St George switched to operational and tried to reach the unit that was, he fervently hoped, still holding the power plant.
‘Swords, calling Seguin's Strikers, come in. This is Cyrus St. George calling for Julian Sequin.’
‘What the Hell do you want. Academy boy? We're just a little too busy here for social calls.’
St George recognized the irritating whine of the mercenary Captain whose unit had been attached to the 33rd regiment for the duration of this assault. ‘Drop dead. Seguin. I need to know anything you can tell me about Hansen's Roughriders.’
‘What I'll tell you is that I'm taking my lads and getting out of there because we'll be too damn close to them as well. They are a regiment backed up by an air wing and assault units. Alone, they're a match for the 131st on its best day. Offense intended.’
It was worse than the Captain had figured. ‘The ones we blew up didn't seem that tough, Seguin.’
‘Just you wait and see—now that you've gone and made them mad.’ The merc Captain's tone had changed, though St. George could not identify what it was. ‘Did you call just to count your kills? If so, we're a little busy here, St. George.’
‘I’m out here at the end of the line. Seguin. Tell me the status of the 131st. What's the salient look like from there?’
‘What salient, boyo? You're the only intact unit still in there. All that's left are odd 'Mechs too slow to run or guys who didn't get the message. The rest have been pouring through here like there was no tomorrow. Which, according to Regimental, seems to be the case.’
‘Great,’ Captain St. George snarled. ‘Tell me one thing, you damned pirate. Will you and your rats hold the end of the sack open until we get there?’
There was a long silence before Captain Seguin's voice came back, all business. ‘How far out are you, St. George?’
Now to give him the bad news. ‘About 13 kilometers.’
‘Well, Academy boy, there are still some rats ru
‘Seguin, if you're not there when I get there, I'll come looking for you. Got it?’
‘Sounds like fun, Academy boy.’
Something cut in on the mercenary's tactical band. St George couldn't hear what was said, but when Seguin picked up the ops link again, his voice was subdued.
‘You'd best hurry if you want to get your babes out of this mess in one piece, boyo.’ The merc sounded grim.
‘Roger. CaptainSeguin.’ St. George signed off.
‘Roger yourself, CaptainSt. George.’ To himself, the merc Captain said, And good luck. You're go
St. George turned to Lipescue. ‘What's your LRM supply look like, Lippy?’
‘After the last twelve hours, I'm mighty low on all the consumables. SRMs are lowest one volley left, both launchers. LRMs. two volleys.’ The veteran didn't sound all that concerned, despite the fact that without his missiles, his Crusaderwas little better armed than a light 'Mech.
‘O.K., Lippy, now we wait. The Steiners should be coming in a few minutes.’
The two giant battle machines stood silently just at the edge of each other's vision. Over the com. the men inside listened to the sounds of Keshii's 131 st battalion coming apart at the seams, unable to withstand the force of superior air power and ever-increasing ground strength.
My god.St. George thought. Where are the Lyrans getting all this firepower?
‘Captain?’ It was Lipescue, on tactical.
‘Got something coming?’ St. George sca
‘Yep. Three recon 'Mechs, moving up. Look like regular Lyrans. No merc support.’ Lipescue's voice was calm.
‘Get a lock on one. Let me know when you have something.’ The Captain's mind snapped back to his unit.
‘McHaigh, are you in place?’ he called to his two retreating lances.
‘Aye. Cap'n. They haven't clamped down yet Also, sir, I've picked up calls from an element of Leonard's Lions. A pair of Riflemenabout three klicks to our rear. Their unit bugged out piecemeal and left those two cans to fend for themselves. I took the liberty of telling them that they were to hold until we get to them. I also told them that they were now members of The Swords of St. George, and that they should remember that St. George looks after his own.’
‘Very good, Sergeant. Do you think they'll be there when we get there?’
‘Well, my little speech seemed to buck them up. And the thought that a company was coming to back them up seemed to please the hell out of them...’
‘I've got one of the little beggars locked.’ Lipescue broke in.
‘Let him have it. Lippy! Then fall back at the run. They'll bring in the damned fighters on your rocket flare.’
‘We're on our way. Sergeant.’ St George told McHaigh.
To the Captain's left the flare of the Crusadersrockets lit the falling rain. He could see the giant machine begin to fall back even before the glare had subsided. The intensity of the rain dampened the effectiveness of his I.R. sensors, and so he could not make out the advancing enemy line. Then he felt the barrage hit. He too fell back.
Behind them, the ground rocked as the rain-blinded fighters groped for their Mechs.
The ground rolled beneath them, as the warriors covered the three kilometers to the company's position in what seemed to be an instant.
Captain St George burst into the center of the Swords' formation bellowing orders. ‘McHaigh, take Swords Three and Bryant, and fall back to those Riflemen.Then hold. Got that?’
His veteran Sergeant responded in the affirmative, and began to pull his unit out.
‘Harris, you and Swords One, stick with me and Lippy.’ The Captain's mind raced to put all his plans together. Using the company band, he called out, ‘O.K., Swords, this is how it goes. We're out of air support, but as long as the rain holds, we're reasonably safe. Don't stay in one place after you fire. Move at least fifty meters in any direction. The fighters will hit your last spot hard. We are also about nine kilometers from our lines, and it looks like we can expect very little support on the way back. Sergeant McHaigh is falling back three klicks to pick us up some reinforcements and dig in. Swords One will hold here until he calls us from his position. Then we'll fall back through his line three klicks, and hold for him. We will continue to fire and fall back through each other until we reach our own lines. Has everyone got that?’ There was a smattering of yeses, punctuated by Lippy's customary ‘Yo’.