Warrior: En Garde Read online

  These kids are good. I suspect that after they get a battle under their belts, no one will doubt Prince Davion's wisdom in creating these training battalions—no one but the people running the military academies and the few bureaucrats who don't want their planets protected by such "green " troops. Justin shook his head. They're really pushing themselves so that their Capellan Major will see how good they really are. Excellent!

  Justin glanced at his heat monitors. The levels still hovered in the blue range, but were nearer to the green of the next higher level. The day's warmth was not much of a danger, and none of the 'Mechs, with the possible exception of Craon's Stinger, should have cracked the green wall. "Andy?"

  "Yes, Major?"

  "See if you can have Corporal Montdidier pull his lance in a bit more. He's ranging too far north, and I suspect it's just to give Craon fits."

  The warmth of Redburn's laughter almost survived transmission intact. "Roger."

  Justin watched as Montdidier's lance moved back toward the main line of march, then frowned as one 'Mech halted. Justin quickly scanned and identified the warrior. "Private Sonnac, why aren't you moving in? Is your 'Mech having trouble?"

  "No, sir. I'm just getting odd magscan readings."

  Justin reached out and punched the button on his command console that shifted his scanners from infrared to magnetic anomaly detection. A holographic display of the terrain filled the screen before him and showed each 'Mech as a glowing red pyramid or sphere. As his computer identified each machine, it tagged a glowing number beneath the symbol that told Justin at a glance the 'Mech's type, model, and designation. Other concentrations of metal—anything from an ore deposit close to the surface or a lost bicycle—showed up as a green cube until it could be identified.

  As Justin turned his head, the 360-degree display continued to provide him with a tactical view that pinpointed large concentrations of metal in the area. The blue hexagon that appeared and then vanished again in his peripheral vision sent a cold chill down his spine. "Andy, check Sonnac's readings. I've got something over the hill I want to see."

  "Roger."

  Justin marched his Valkyrie up over the crest of the hill and turned to face the direction where he'd spotted the blue hexagon. Through the holographic construct, he saw that it was located deep in a wooded vale. A stream ran through the wooded area and emptied into a good-size pond. The nearby hills, covered with the red, green, and orange wildflowers, sloped down toward the pond. The whole scene, bereft of the blue scanner-ghost, looked peaceful and inviting.

  And dangerous. Justin clenched his jaw. Those tranquil woods would be just the place for light 'Mechs like the Stingers to seek shelter if they had to elude enemy 'Mechs. That stream would also provide cooling for overheated 'Mechs. The valley formed a superior battle arena for light 'Mechs.

  Redburn's voice blasted over the radio. "Major Allard! Cicadas, sir! All over the place!"

  At the urgency in Redburn's communication, Justin's mind went automatically into a kind of special battle mode that filtered out all emotion. "Withdraw south, Leftenant." Just don't come this way, he added silently, sensing something ominous behind the seeming tranquility of the vale.

  "Negative, negative," burst in Robert Craon. "I've got magscan readings off the scale south, east, and north. You're clean, sir. We've got to head out west."

  Justin turned his head to study the escape route that Craon suggested. His mouth went instantly dry. The blue hexagon appeared again. This time, the computer graced it with an identifier. My God! It's a Rifleman!

  Justin snapped an order over the comm channel. "No way out here, either. Do what you can, Andy. The cadre is yours." With that, Justin turned his Valkyrie and jumped toward the woods. "It's a trap. All a trap. Don't run west..."

  Leftenant Redburn barely heard Justin Allard's enigmatic reply to Craon, but it was too late to ask any questions. Not knowing what to do next, he nearly panicked. Slow down, Andrew, he told himself. Get a grip. The Major put you in charge. He has confidence in you. Don't let him down.

  Redburn watched the ground crack open. Capellan 'Mechs— Cicadas—sprouted up like nightmare plants in some hideous time-lapse holodocumentary. While Craon was shouting, they had appeared on the north, south, and east sides of the valley rim. Only the west, the direction Major Allard had forbidden him, stood safely open. "Move, dammit! Move! This isn't a drill. Withdraw west, up the hillside. Sonnac, jet out of there!"

  One armless Cicada thrust its ugly snout in front of Sonnac's -position and fired its twin medium lasers. Both beams converged on the Stinger's head. Armor melted and ran like wax, then the beams lanced into the cockpit. Something exploded, leaving nothing and no one behind. Sonnac's Stinger staggered backward, then fell lifelessly to the ground.

  Redburn's magscan vision of the valley blazed with green pyramids and blue rectangles. The Cicadas, which weighed twice as much as any Stinger on the field, had no arms and sported two medium lasers and one small laser that fired in a forward arc. As data flowed across the screens on his command console, Redburn cursed angrily. Three of the Cicadas sported flamethrowers, and already one cadet's screams were ringing through Redburn's ears as a Cicada ignited the cadet's 'Mech. Outweighed and outgunned, the cadre had no other choice but to retreat.

  Philip Nablus, pilot of the burning 'Mech, hit his jump jets in panic, taking off with enough speed to snuff the flames coating the left side of his machine. He came down on his feet, but stumbled and rolled into an untidy heap. A Cicada turned to fire at him, but the other members of Nablus's lance poured laser fire into the rear of the Cicada.

  There's only a dozen of them, but they've got to be veteran pilots, Redburn told himself. Still, we do outnumber them. There has to be a way.

  "Pull back. Get above them," he ordered. "We'll hold the heights." Suddenly, the solution burst into his brain like a missile. "They want us to go west, so let's oblige them. Now move it, and let's see how cocky they get. We'll make them pay."

  * * *

  Justin's Valkyrie hit top speed as it reached the bottom of the hill. The blue hexagon nickered to life, and the computer placed it behind a thick stand of pines. Justin closed one eye, adjusted the target selection with one hand, and smiled. He had no computer lock, but the shot felt right. "Die, bastard," he growled as his thumb stabbed the launch button and a flight of missiles burst from the chest of his Valkyrie.

  The launching dropped his speed from 86 kph to 72 kph, but speed did not concern Justin at that moment. The tall pines became instant torches when the first two missiles hit them, then fell away into a circle of flaming debris as three more missiles shredded them with fire and shrapnel. The remaining five missiles soared through the firestorm and slammed into the true target, lurking in its now-shattered haven.

  Those five missiles burst like an exploding bandolier across the Rifleman's 60-ton body. Five dents in the scarred armor showed where the missiles had hit, but Justin's initial view suggested possible damage to only one of the 'Mech's torso lasers. "Damn," he muttered.

  The semi-humanoid Rifleman's arms swung up, pivoting at its shoulders, and tracked Justin's Valkyrie. The torso swiveled at the waist, keeping the twin autocannons and heavy lasers locked onto their target. As the radar wing atop the enemy 'Mech began to swing faster, the Rifleman took one step out of the burning trees toward the tiny Valkyrie.

  The Rifleman's autocannons spat out a hail of slugs amid great gouts of flame. Smoldering shells rained from the shoulder ejection ports to the ground. The 'Mech tracked the speeding Valkyrie as best it could, sending after it a jagged trail of autocannon shells.

  Too close now! Justin thought, waiting until the last possible second to kick in his jump jets, which sent him rocketing ahead of the autocannon slugs. Knowing he could not land on his feet at this speed, Justin hit the ground and rolled his 'Mech forward. Then he rose to one knee, launched another flight of LRMs, and let the launch-reaction carry him backward as twin laser lances melted the ground where he had
crouched.

  Only three of his hastily loosed missiles made their target, but those hit with a vengeance. One exploded into one of the Rifleman's autocannon ejection ports, fusing the ejection mechanism. The other missiles both slammed into the radar wing whirling like a propeller above the 'Mech's hunched shoulders. The first explosion froze the mechanism in place, and the second blast left the wing hanging by thick electrical cables. Had enough? Justin demanded silently.

  As if in reply, the Rifleman twisted its torso again. Its two medium torso lasers and the remaining autocannon fired on their tormentor. Up and running again, Justin eluded the assault, but knew that he could not hope to avoid disaster forever. He just had to make it worth it.

  * * *

  Redburn nodded as the Stingers formed a line to face the oncoming enemy 'Mechs. "On my mark, as I've outlined it. Remember, they've got no jump jets, and they can't easily fire into the backward arc. Now, go!"

  At his command, de Payens, Montbard, and St. Agnan jumped their lances over and behind the line of Capellan Cicadas. While Redburn turned his lance to face the crush of 'Mechs closing from the north, St. Omer moved his lance to repel the southern wing of oncoming Capellans. Meanwhile, Montdidier's damaged lance slid over to help. De Mesnil's lance held the center and opened up on the Cicadas marching at them up the hill.

  Redburn smiled as he saw the Capellan warriors hesitate. You may have thought you were fighting trainees, but these cadets are good. With one smooth operation, we’ve turned the ambush back on you.

  Craon landed first, having jumped his Stinger in a flatter arc than had the others in de Payens's lance. His 'Mech's long legs absorbed the impact of landing with the grace and strength of a cat. Craon whirled the Stinger about and brought his medium laser up in a fluid motion. When it fired, the ruby beam sliced virtually all the armor from a Cicada's leg.

  That Capellan 'Mech spun to face the threat to its rear. Craon moved wide to avoid the Cicada's return fire, forcing the enemy 'Mech to pivot hard on its wounded leg. Evita Barres marched her Stinger forward and deliberately sighted the Cicada's damaged limb. The remaining armor vaporized at the beam's touch, then the 'Mech's myomer fiber muscles parted with a snap. The Cicada's leg collapsed, and the birdlike 'Mech smashed nose-first into the dirt.

  The Cicadas on the southern wing ignored St. Agnan's lance as they jetted overhead. All the Capellan 'Mechs pressed forward, raking the defenders with bolt after bolt of laser fire. In Montdidier's lance, Reynold Vichiers's Stinger took heavy damage in the head and chest. Unaware that a bolt had already killed Vichiers, Bill Chartres imposed the body of his Stinger between his comrade and the Cicadas. Shafts of ruby light skewered his 'Mech even more savagely than they had Vichiers's machine. Utterly shot through, the Stinger collapsed in a heap.

  St. Omer directed concentrated fire at the two outside Cicadas, while Montdidier and the other two cadets in his command hammered the two Cicadas closest to the center. The Capellans, in an effort to break through Montdidier's weakened lance, rushed forward and smashed their 'Mechs into the defending Stingers.

  St. Omer's efforts paid off handsomely. The Cicadas that his lance had flanked disintegrated as the heavy fire picked them apart. Once the lasers had blasted away chunks of armor, they struck deep into the ungainly 'Mechs to destroy their engines. The Cicadas stiffened as though seized by rigor mortis, then crashed the ground.

  Montdidier's lance took hideous damage from the charging 'Mechs, but managed to hold. Bures, whose Stinger had been knocked down by a Cicada, swept his 'Mech's legs in between those of the Capellan 'Mech. The Cicada's next step shattered the Stinger's limbs and tore them from the 'Mech's torso, but the effort tripped the Cicada and dropped it to its knees.

  Thomas Berard met a Cicada's charge head-on. The Capellan 'Mech hammered the smaller machine at first impact, sending shards of armor flying over the battlefield. Despite the bone-shattering impact, Berard managed to smash his Stinger's left fist against the Cicada's head and cracked the cockpit canopy. The Capellan pilot, disoriented by the assault, backed off just long enough for Berard to eject from his damaged 'Mech before the Cicada trampled his Stinger into spare parts.

  St. Agnan's lance laid down a pattern of fire that caught the two Cicadas from behind and hurt them badly. Scarlet laser fire ripped through the aft armor of both 'Mechs, stabbing straight through. In the case of Berard's target, the shots burst out through the cockpit. Both Cicadas crumpled to the ground, where they lay smoking.

  * * *

  Justin's Valkyrie cut to the right as the heavy laser on the Rifleman's left arm torched a black furrow through the meadow off to Justin's left. It can't continue to turn! he thought. The torso locks up after about forty degrees. If I can get into its rear arc, the weapons can't track me!

  Justin started his Valkyrie running to the right, and grinned as his battle display showed him the lumbering Rifleman's attempt to follow his movement. In the effort, the big 'Mech's waist locked, so that it had to make an almost comical shuffle-step to continue turning. Perfect, Justin told himself. Just a bit faster, and I'll be in the clear. He grinned again and dropped his missile targeting crosshairs onto the Rifleman's silhouette. He kept it there, despite the pounding, jarring strides that carried his 'Mech forward.

  But wait. What is that pilot doing? Justin felt terror flash through his guts as the Rifleman stopped trying to track his Valkyrie. The larger machine stood rock-still for a moment, then twisted back in the other direction. As it did so, the Capellan 'Mech's arms swung up toward the sky and back down to lock in the rear firing arc.

  "No!" Justin twisted his Valkyrie violently to reorient it, and tried valiantly to fire the jump jets. These frantic efforts only managed to trip up the Valkyrie, and he had to fight hard to regain control of the falling 'Mech.

  No! Not like this! Justin stabbed the Valkyrie's medium laser out at the Rifleman, but the gesture was useless. The Rifleman, swinging its weapons into line with the Valkyrie, scythed laser fire through the 'Mech's legs and ended Justin's futile attempt at flight.

  * * *

  The southern flank crushed, St. Omer, St. Agnan, and Montbard directed their lances at the Capellan center. The hellish crossfire sliced one Cicada to ribbons and drove the rest north. The northern wing withdrew quickly as the training battalion swept up toward it. After a savage exchange with St. Agnan's lance, the Cicada pilots realized that the battle was lost and chose to save their 'Mechs.

  De Mesnil's gravelly voice crackled over the radio. "They're backing away, Leftenant."

  Redburn looked at his magscan image and concurred with de Mesnil's assessment of the battle. "Let them run, cadets. We couldn't catch them if we wanted to." He watched the enemy 'Mechs flee and shook his head as his computer reported their running speed at better than 120 kph. Damn, they're fast, he thought, then shivered as his body burned the adrenalin coursing through his bloodstream.

  Redburn flipped a switch on his console that instantly put his Sergeant and Corporals on a command frequency. "Report."

  "De Mesnil here. All pilots alive, but Bisot and Montvalle both have leg damage. St. John lost his medium laser."

  "St. Omer here, Leftenant. William Chartres is dead and his Stinger is gone. Minor damage otherwise. Everyone else stayed calm."

  Redburn nodded and looked out toward the smoking, riddled ruin of Chartres's 'Mech. A damn shame. "Very well. St. Agnan?"

  "Yes, sir." St. Agnan's voice came in sharp snippets of words. "I'm the only one who got tagged here, sir. Cockpit breached, and I think I have some busted ribs. Torroges lost an arm actuator, but it's been bad for awhile."

  "Archie, pop your canopy so Gil Erail can get in and see what you look like." Redburn turned his attention to Montdidier's lance. "Payen, report."

  It took Payen Montdidier a moment to collect himself. Even then, his voice almost broke. "Sonnac and Vichiers are dead, sir. Bures's 'Mech has no legs, and Berard's 'Mech is lost. He ejected, though, and got away fine."

  Montbard
and de Payens both reported their lances were virtually intact, though de Payens said that Craon wanted to know why such things never happened to anyone else running shepherd.

  "Tell him it builds character," Redburn laughed, and his staff joined him. "Major Allard, how about you?"

  There was no answer until De Mesnil's voice filled the silence. "I never saw him come back into the battle, Leftenant."

  "De Mesnil, organize this rabble. De Payens, Montbard, form up your lances on me." Hoping the fear in his stomach would find nothing to feed it, Redburn trotted his Spider up over the hill. No, God! Not the Major! The smoke rising from the burning trees sent a tremor of dread through him. Why does it have to look like a funeral pyre?

  * * *

  Justin Allard's shattered 'Mech lay on its back. Heavy laser fire had hacked off its legs and reduced them to an armored puddle. The missile autoloader clicked audibly as it attempted to feed a long-since exhausted supply of missiles into the fire-blackened ruins of the launch tubes. The right arm laser had melted clean away, and autocannon shells had ripped off the 'Mech's left arm at the shoulder.

  Andrew Redburn and Robert Craon both scrambled over the 'Mech's torso, heedless of hot armor and the sparking wires of exposed mechanisms. They clambered toward the 'Mech's shattered face, then stopped short, suddenly afraid of what might be behind the jagged holes blasted through the canopy.

  Redburn knew it was going to be bad. In anger and frustration, he kicked away some of the spiderwebbed glass. Carefully listening for any clue to what the darkened cockpit concealed, he lowered himself into the Valkyrie. When Craon hesitated, he motioned impatiently for the cadet to follow him. The cadet bleated a strangled cry as he bent down before the 'Mech's command chair.