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He glanced back over his shoulder at the black curtain of smoke that had risen to hide the sun. These are no Periphery bandits, that's for sure. I don't know what they are, but if they decide to take every world in the I
17
Trell I
Tamar March, Lyran Commonwealth
13 April 3050
Kommandant Victor Steiner-Davion ducked his Victorand sidled it left through the subterranean lagoon as the raider 'Mech stabbed its left weapons pod at him. The Marauder-type pod spat the artificial lightning of a particle projection ca
Despite the frost covering his Mech's viewplate, the intense blue of the energy weapon lit his cockpit like a strobe. Concentrating on the computer-created landscape of magscan data, Victor dropped his autoca
The storm of depleted uranium shells again burrowed into the raider's left shoulder, pulverizing what little armor remained over the joint, then stripping the myomer muscles from the ferro-titanium bones. The bones themselves bent, twisted, and then finally snapped under the savage assault. The arm flew away, pulling taut the ammo chain to the autoca
Victor gri
The Thorswung its PPC arm in Victor's direction, but never managed a shot. Sending two flights of SRMs from the leg-mounted launchers of his Crusader,Galen Cox pummeled the Thor'sarm. SRM explosions blasted shards of armor deeper into the dim cave, and more important, knocked the gu
Thanks, Galen. I owe you.Victor tracked the off-balance Thoras it tried to withdraw. Cutting to the left, it slammed into a huge stalagmite and bounced back while the megalith slowly tottered, then fell. As the Thordrifted involuntarily into Victor's sights, he triggered his autoca
The autoca
"Kommandant, we have trouble." Galen kept his voice calm, but Victor heard the urgency in his voice. "I mark two more of these Thorsand two of what I'm calling Loki—'cause of its utterly mad configuration—in the Antechamber. It looks as if these Jade Falcons work in configurations of five, not lances of four like we do. I would suggest his lancemates are on the way."
"Roger, Galen." Victor glanced at his sector scan. These new 'Mechs mean Galen and I are cut off from our rendezvous with the battalion in this direction. We'll have to backtrack through the Smugglers' Stroll to the Dragon's Lair."We could have had him, you know. Let's back off."
"Yes, sir."
Galen started his Crusadermoving back, and the Thormirrored the retreat. When Galen reported his Crusaderin position to cover the Victor,Davion worked his way through the hot-spring-fed, underground lake. Feeling somewhat safer with a palisade of stalactites and stalagmites between him and the raider, Victor opened a radio cha
Galen's reply came after a moment or two of thought. "If he'd been ru
Victor nodded to himself. If not for Cox keeping him busy and a couple of lucky shots from me, that monster would have eaten me alive. As it is, I've lost chunks of armor over my chest and right leg. The armor on Galen'sCrusader has likewise been reduced to paper-thi
Victor punched two buttons on his command console and opened a tactical frequency directly to the regimental headquarters. "Badger One to Den Mother, come in. I need a new vector to the front."
General Hawksworth's voice sounded tight with tension. "Negative, Badger One. You are to return to the Den immediately. That goes for Badger Two as well."
Victor frowned. "Say again, Den Mother." Victor toggled a radio filter on and off, letting static break up the communication. "I'm getting static here. Please repeat."
"Don't play games with me, Badger. I know all about filter switching when you hear orders you don't like. That trick got old with Redburn on St. Andre in the Fourth War. Repeat, report to the Den immediately. I want you here."
Victor swallowed hard. "Roger, Den Mother. Reporting home immediately."
Victor left his BattleMech standing next to a LeopardClass DropShip. He clambered quickly down the rope ladder from the cockpit and tossed his neurohelmet to a startled Tech as he sprinted to the low, squat building that served as the regiment's brain center during times of battle. Like a lean greyhound, Galen Cox followed on Victor's heels.
The cavernous room resounded with echoed fragments of desperate radio reports and requests for reinforcement. In the eerie glow of radar screens and holographic display units, the communications specialists looked especially haggard. They nodded in concert with demands for support, then punched buttons to shift the calls to others who could better deal with the problem.
As Victor pulled on a parka over his cooling vest, he saw why Hawksworth had called him back to the base. Someone has to organize this place. We can't mount a defense with everything ru
Hawksworth listlessly returned his salute. The normally jovial man had been drained of all good humor. Strands of white hair fa