"Oh, no, you Satan-driven Snake!" Heany shouted. "Not this time."
She was ready for that trick, at least. She opened the channel to the Ranger fire base. "Achtung! Achtung!Fire mission six-three-three. Execute now!"
Leading the Ranger 'Mechs in pursuit of the fleeing Kuritans, she awaited the results of her order. They would not get away this time.
The first artillery shell streaked in two minutes later, splintering into bomblets as it fell. The ground erupted in front of the Kurita 'Mechs. More shells followed, throwing the landscape skyward to join the atmosphere.
Heany watched the Oriongo down within the hell of the artillery barrage. Got you! "Achtung!Cancel fire mission six-three-three. Repeat, cancel fire mission."
Two minutes later, the ground ceased its shaking. In the morass of torn dirt, Kurita BattleMechs lay battered and dismembered. Alloy bones showing through torn armor skin, the Orionwas sprawled on its back.
Heany was surprised when her comm panel indicated a microwave transmission emanating from the fallen 'Mech. As she tuned in the channel, her video screen brightened with a picture.
The MechWarrior in the cockpit of the Orionhad removed his neurohelmet, a sign of submission because he would not be able to control his 'Mech without it. His grime-smeared face was scarred and he wore a red scharacki feather in his right ear. White teeth shone amid a halo of black stubble as he grinned at her.
"Ohayo,Hauptmann-Kommandant Heany. Tai-saKurita regrets he could not attend your party. But don't be upset. He ain't got enough hair on his chest to keep you Elsie gals happy, so I stayed to be sure ya got taken care of. Come and get me!"
Heany smashed her fist into the screen, her Sanglamore class ring scarring the plastic surface. Where in the cursed galaxy was Theodore Kurita? How could he have escaped her again?
28
Nadir Jump Point, Marfik System
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
1 October 3028
"Captain."
Walter Garrett felt Hans Alders' hand on his shoulder and wished he did not.
"Captain, you told me to wake you before docking."
"You did, Hans. You did," Garrett mumbled. "What's the status?"
"We're two hours from zero point on this leg. Hauptmann-Kommandant Heany's DropShip will intercept that position in 128 minutes. I've delayed the restart on gravity maneuvering until after docking."
"We're going to have trouble if their comm is still screwed."
The DropShip's comm laser had been destroyed in the fighting, and the radio was only working fitfully. Even the IFF transponder was putting out a garbled message, but it was enough to recognize the DropShip as one of their own. Not that there was much chance that it was a ruse; system command had not reported any Kurita DropShips in space since the week after the invasion and all of the Legion's DropShips had been captured at Massingham.
"It's still malfunctioning, Captain. Their Techs can't seem to trace the problem. But I had an idea about that. Sure surprised me when they agreed; I never thought those
MechJocks would agree to let a Navy man touch their controls."
Garrett shook his head in confusion, the motion sending him into the bunk's restraining straps. He was still muddled from sleep, exhausted from the long duty shifts necessitated by the Kit Carson'sshort-handed crew. He understood the importance of the Pony Express system of which his JumpShip was a part. The system was named after an ancient Terran mail-carrying network that once served the vast western frontier of North America. Instead of horsemen relaying across the plains, there were JumpShips playing tag across the stars, transferring data pulses and DropShips to keep information flowing from the front to the high commander and back again.
The method was expensive, but more secure and dependable than the ComStar-controlled Hyperpulse Generators that carried normal interstellar communications. Though the HPG was quick, a message might sit at a ComStar station for weeks until a batch accumulated. Cutting ComStar out of the loop had also enabled the Steiner-Davion Alliance to achieve the surprise that had so shocked the Draconis Combine. But the system meant short crews. Secrecy had demanded that military crews be shifted to the civilian ships requisitioned for the war. Garrett knew it was necessary, but his body objected. He was getting too old for constant duty watch.
"Just what are you talking about, Hans?"
"I've sent Leutnant Morrison out in the
Lucifer.He's got Alaric Gerhardt with him. Morrison can put into their Aerospace Fighter bay easier than they can dock with us. Once Alaric is aboard, he can eyeball the ship in. I thought the
Carson
"A lot of trouble for a ground-bound general looking to hitch a ride to HQ."
"If it were only a colonel, we wouldn't be making the effort, right?"
"Astute, Hans. We must always pay attention to the politics of rank." Garrett slipped free of the bunk straps and glided across the compartment, elegant and nimble in the microgravity despite his age and artificial leg. "I'm going to shower and grab a bite before docking. We should probably have the whole crew on hand. Generals like a proper reception."
"Aye, Captain."
* * *
Two hours later, Garrett and Alders stood in the cargo well, near the docking collar hatch. The other six members of the crew fidgeted nearby. Alders only had to shout once to get them to stop their grumbling about unnecessary shows for unnecessary generals. Garrett knew that their lack of respect for the army was traditional rather than personal, but still hoped that they wouldn't embarrass him too much in front of the visiting officer.
The Kit Carsonshuddered from the impact of the DropShip in the collar. Garrett made a mental note to chew out Gerhardt for his substandard performance. The soles of Alder's grip shoes made sucking sounds as he stepped forward to the hatch controls. There was a slight hiss as the panels of the hatch began to dilate, and the rank odor typical of an old UnionClass DropShip wafted over the waiting JumpShip crew, a gift of the slightly higher air pressure on the incoming ship.
The growing circle of the open hatchway was only half-size when a black-clad figure shot through it in a dive impossible in gravity. The red-haired man struck Alders amidships, ripping his suction soles free from the decking and sending both men tumbling toward the far bulkhead.
A second figure thrust into the Carson .This one expertly banked off the upper bulkhead of the short passageway connecting the hatch to the cargo well. With the ease of a person used to zero-gravity acrobatics, the black-garbed figure landed in a crouch in front of Garrett. The Captain recognized that this one was a woman, and a beautiful one, before his eyes riveted on the shining sword she extended to touch his throat.
"The point is sharp enough to penetrate before the reaction takes you away from me, Captain," she said softly. "Surrender and spare your life."
Garrett heard a rustling behind him as the crew began to react. Before he could think about turning, the woman raised her left hand. Her laser pistol hissed a single pulse and he heard the gurgle of a dying man. Her eyes never left his own.