![]() The first, battle-scarred and still radiating waste heat, was Tai-i Latham’s The second, tan-painted like the first, but taller and thicker, more humanoid, was Barton’s sixty-ton Two ’Mechs stood face-to-face in the depth of the valley, where it opened out. ![]() “Let’s go,” he said, and began to guide the eleven-meter Crusader down the slope. He was about a kilometer back, almost to the point where the Snake ambush had killed the militia Scimitar. “We should be in there for Bets and Six-one.”Īt the distant edge of his 360 display, Galen saw the hulking shape of Hauptmann Rychert’s Banshee emerge from the fog of ash. We should be in there.”Ĭanne heard Cumberland’s sigh despite the spotty coms. “But that’s like using a dump truck to carry a marble.” One of the Snake had tagged his tank with its laser-the thermal bloom had burned right through the ablative shielding and burned him. He rubbed at the warm spot on his arm, still tender through the tough tanker’s suit. “I know that, Staff Sergeant,” Cumberland said. “That’s a heavy lance,” Sergeant Cumberland in Six-Four said. Blinking away burning grit, he concentrated on his screens. They’re following the Snakes into the badlands.”Ĭanne rubbed at the edges of his eyes with the back of his gloved hands. And watching Bets and Six-one go up did bad things for my concentration… The vibration from the militia Scimitar’s drive fans always lulled him unless he concentrated. He’d been back where Six-one had died… “Who?” he asked. Staff Sergeant Heinz Canne blinked and shook his head. Osage clicked her microphone twice and closed the channel. “There’s no one else, Val,” he told the pilot. And the militia… he had only to blink to see the burning hulk of the Scimitar. Light ’Mechs-recon lances or pursuit lances-chased their kindred.īut that doesn’t he told himself. He knew heavy ’Mechs didn’t pursue light ’Mechs into close terrain-he knew heavy ’Mechs didn’t pursue light ’Mechs at all. He’d done the war games at the War College. That didn’t change the fact that it just felt wrong. With us between them and Nisibis, we can track them all the way back to their landing zone.” “Our mission is to protect our citizens,” Osage persisted. The compartment where he kept his pain under lock and key burped, showing him both his parents’ burned house and Bets Matheson’s tank. Galen swallowed before he answered, biting back the instinctive flash of pain and anger Osage’s words brought. “With respect, sir, that’s not our mission.” “It makes sense to pursue them-they might lead us to the rest of the company.” That reading certainly hadn’t come from that little He touched the throttle but didn’t bring it back. The damn recon station showed the metal for a whole company of ’Mechs. Galen watched the range indicator roll down past 500 meters. There was a pause, scattered with the pops and scratches of interference. “I heard the hauptmann calling,” Sergeant Osage said. That meant he was a little surprised when an amber indicator lit on his com panel. He didn’t have to look to see the rest of Two Lance keeping pace-they were too well-trained to need a verbal order. If it went true to form, one of two truths would emerge: either it would widen into a full canyon, likely with some sulfur-filled water in the basin, or it would tighten down and rise.Įither way, the space the Kurita lance was going into was limited. It looked like one of the many lava-burned flows across Ryde. The distance readout on his HUD showed just over 750 meters between Galen’s Crusader and the opening of the slit canyon. Galen sighed and toggled the channel closed. Static screeched at him, but beneath it he recognized Hauptmann Rychert’s voice. Galen frowned and touched the control to open the channel. No doubt hoping to breakĪ light burned to life on his com board. The Kurita lance had run off-again-after stabbing some lasers into Sergeant Osage’s Now they were filing into the slit of a box canyon most of a kilometer ahead. Galen’s sweat was salty where it burned his eyes and tainted the corner of his mouth, but not so bitter as the frustration that coursed through his veins.
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