Chapter 3:

Into the Fire

It hurt to breathe, the muscles over his chest and abdomen were bruised where the restraining harness had dug in painfully. Alarms continued to sound their warnings. Sinclair blinked away the ghostly images the laserfire had burned over his eyes, vision clearing as the haze swept back. Only the lightly polarized tint to the canopy and his neurohelmet’s faceplate saved him from more permanent damage, though in combat even a second’s blindness could prove lethal.

The wireframe damage schematic he had pulled to an auxiliary screen showed heavy armor loss all over the Bushwacker. Armor protecting the BattleMech’s left arm was now a memory, the Owens’ emerald pulses finally eating through the last of its protection to cut away at the myomer muscles and shoulder actuator. The arm itself hung useless down the BattleMech’s side. Further damage concentrated primarily along left leg, right torso and the head, promising breaches in those areas soon enough.

If he gave the Smoke Jaguar warrior the chance.

Slapping quickly at the irritating alarms, Sinclair silenced the distractions, then worked throttle and stick to shift the Bushwacker, shuffling the ‘Mech around in a tight circle. The Owens gave chase, but sluggishly. Shimmering steam and sooty black smoke leaked out of several rents in the armor covering the small OmniMech’s upper body. The shielding damage Connor scored earlier had overheated the Owens, robbing it of speed and likely making targeting more difficult. Apparently the Clan pilot had not been able to convert over to the Smoke Jaguar’s better heat sink technology, leaving the Owens vulnerable after rapid-fire laser barrages. It was an advantage. It would be all he needed.

Sinclair smiled grimly, second-guessed the Jaguar warrior and throttled forward into a tight circle outside of the Owens’ now-limited turn radius. Too eager, the Clan pilot had committed himself to chasing the Bushwacker’s rear arc and now overextended himself. Sinclair caught the Owens by the back instead. The centerline large laser lanced a ruby beam through the Omni’s weaker armor, cutting away more engine shielding. If the shudder which trembled the Owens meant anything, he had also nicked the gyro housing as well. His machine guns hammered in afterward, this time smashing all the way through and releasing the inferno harnessed at the heart of every BattleMech.

A golden blaze burst from the Owens’ chest cavity, coring the OmniMech even as fiery tendrils worked through the machine to burst out of shoulder and hip joints. The ‘Mech flew apart as easily as a rag doll shredded at the seams. Armor shrapnel peppered the Bushwacker, which rocked backward in the face of the explosion. A few large pieces of slag that were once actuators and titanium support structure slammed hard into the BattleMech, as if an attempt by the Owens to take the larger machine with it.

Connor rode it out, jostled once more against his five-point harness but otherwise coming through unharmed. The Bushwacker presided over the ruined frame of the Owens and a battlefield of scorched earth littered with smoking debris. No enemy threats showed on the HUD.

The field was clear.

* * *

The trio of MFB vehicles had gathered into a triangular formation down inside a shallow wash. A two-minute walk from where Sinclair had put down the Owens, Thomas Sorenson had chosen a good site. Enough flat area to break out the repair facilities, the lieutenant noted with relief, checking his armor loss and damage to the Bushwacker’s left arm. There was also the autocannon to fix, as he had no intention of losing one of his best weapons in the middle of battle again. The 55 ton BattleMech had certainly looked better. Still, three Clan ‘Mechs down and one comms facility scrapped. Not a bad day, though he was ready to quit while ahead.

That wasn’t going to happen.

"Good to see you, Lieutenant." Sorenson waved from the ground near one of the MFBs. He had a hand-held radio unit. "Ready to take on the world? I hope so."

Sinclair walked the Bushwacker into the area framed by the three vehicles, but delayed his shutdown procedure. "What do you mean?"

Sorenson’s report lacked anything in the way of personal feelings -- the way a good intelligence report should be given. "I mean we’re still 'go’ to hit the factory. You and Dominic Paine, and these three MFBs."

"Dominic made it?" Sinclair asked.

"We heard from him just a few minutes ago. He’s moving to regroup. Also survivors of Damocles Commando Two made contact with the Eclipse. Two MechWarriors® and an MFB support vehicle, trying to complete their mission down at the southern hydroelectric facility."

If not the best news, it was at least encouraging. Team Two was out the door after his commando. If two of them made it down, then both Tessa and Keith would be out there as well, trying to make rendezvous. But, "No extraction then?"

Even from up in his cockpit, he could make out Sorenson’s head shaking. "Run tape," he ordered.

A new voice was cut into the conversation, Tinny from recording and rebroadcast, Conner Sinclair still recognized it -- Nathan Taylor, captain of the Eclipse. "We’ve made no determination on the status of DropShip Black Hammer. We assume it is down. Act in accordance with mission specifications until we facilitate your extraction. Taylor, out."

"That was Captain Taylor’s official response to my request for information -- thought you might like to hear it for yourself. He set his ship down in the mountains north of the peninsula rather than risk facing whatever knocked the Black Hammer from the sky. Commandos Four through Six are trying to break through the mountain passes, and so come down onto the peninsula to rendezvous and pull us all out of here, but they are meeting with resistance. Our extraction is, essentially, an unknown factor at this time. We’re expected to proceed on mission."

No normal mission would ever go forward after such a catastrophic loss. But then, this was hardly a MechWarrior’s run-of-the-planet mission. And as much as Lieutenant Sinclair recognized the odds stacked against him, he could hardly blame Taylor for not wanting to risk the Eclipse -- their only way off Tranquil -- after what happened to the Black Hammer. Whatever had happened to the Black Hammer.

Sinclair dialed for a confident voice. "If we move fast enough and hit hard enough, we might make the factory complex out at the peninsula’s tip. Commando tactics. That was our mission, and we can still accomplish it." With half the force originally allotted? He shoved aside the doubts. "Get Dominic on our flank, but have him hold off by a few kilometers. In that captured Clan Shadow Cat of his, he’ll make the perfect flanker -- able to guard our line of advance and hit any approaching force before they realize he’s with us. It will help keep the Clan forces pinned in place while we sweep straight for the factory."

This time the corporal could not keep his own doubts from showing in his voice or even in his question. "You really think this will work?"

Connor toggled off the comm system, and preceded with his shutdown without answering. It saved him from having to choose between enthusiastic hyperbole and an evasive reply. Besides, Sorenson was smart enough to figure out the truthful answer for himself.

What choice did they have?

* * *

Okay, I’m heading forward. Don’t be late!

Roger that. Good luck, Dominic.

Yeah, sure.

All right, Lieutenant. Dominic Paine has moved ahead to set up his flanking attack against the ‘Mech factory. He will move in as soon as you begin your run, meeting you at the second bridge. From there the two of you can proceed to the island facility.

And we’ve finally made progress on the codes recovered from that destroyed communication’s facility back on the beach. They have allowed us to break part of the Clan encryption system, tapping into some of their radio chatter. The proper codes have been entered into your BattleMech computer, so you will receive a direct feed of Clan intentions from now on. Here’s hoping it helps.

Let’s end this.

* * *

"…hurt.... cannot.... Noooo...."

The scream faded to static and then silence as the Thor’s missile ammunition detonated in the over-the-shoulder launcher, tearing a gash through its left side and setting off the main ammunition bin by sympathetic explosion. A red-orange fireball ripped through the interior of the Clan OmniMech, shattering its turret-style waist and amputating both legs. Its left leg flipped up and over the head of Connor Sinclair’s Bushwacker, landing in the river. The right leg was thrown far to one side, into a nearby minefield where it triggered several of the hidden explosive devices. A twisted, misshapen frame of metal landed several meters off to one side, all that remained of a once-powerful war machine. One of the best Clan designs, piloted by a tenacious warrior. Star Commander Freya had dogged their tracks for several kilometers.

"Careless fool!" Though a weak transmission partly obscured by the static, the kind Sinclair had come to recognize as the Smoke Jaguar communications on which his computer could now eavesdrop, there was no hiding the disdain and anger coloring the voice. Unless the lieutenant missed his guess, that would be Star Captain Hasaan Furey who had been referenced in other intercepted transmissions.

Corporal Sorenson’s relief was just as evident. "Nice work, Captain. You were right, we should have sidetracked to take her down earlier today."

Sinclair’s lungs felt on fire. Gasping in breaths of the cockpit’s scorched air, he choked on the ozone scent of burnt insulation from the monitor which had shorted out. Just as well he was saved any comment, with Dominic Paine interrupting. "This is Gunner, moving in from the west. Where’s my support?"

He was running behind. A glance at the mission clock told the lieutenant just how many precious minutes he’d wasted dealing with the star commander. He had already taken out the site’s powerhouse -- a fairly impressive plant, considering there was only the one ‘Mech factory, a large set of greenhouses and some storage and barracks facilities to supply. But by now he should have been meeting up with Dominic to hit the small offshore island on which the factory was situated. "Where are you, Dominic?"

"Fighting off a Blackhawk-Kurita variant and a Strider just this side of the second bridge." A brief pause. "Check that. Make it a Blackhawk-KU only now. Damn! That hurt. The better question is, where are you?"

Making up time fast as he could. Running deeper into the small outpost, Connor pulled up short as his HUD painted a threat icon, the computer tagging it with the code for a Puma OmniMech, primary variant. The computer couldn’t always tell OmniMech variants apart, but the twin particle projection cannon made this an easy ID. He didn’t need to glance at his armor schematic to see that one solid salvo from those PPCs would score through any location on his Bushwacker, his weak armor courtesy of Star Commander Freya. According to the HUD, the Puma waited just around the corner of the two-story greenhouse complex.

Sinclair plunged through the glass wall, thinking to try a shortcut.

Star Captain Furey must have had the place wired for sensors. "There is one inside the project," he said almost at once. "Protect those facilities!"

Easier ordered than accomplished, with a 55 ton BattleMech already loose inside the building and no way to come after it but to smash your way through and engage. The Puma tried to hedge, shattering one wall with a swipe of the arm but not actually entering itself. A mistake, leaving Sinclair the advantage of better cover, the Bushwacker nestled within a screening growth of lush, food-bearing trees and plants. Only one of the PPCs azure whips struck him, the man-made lightning melting armor which runneled from his left torso to puddle among the plants and start several trees afire. The Bushwacker’s autocannon missed wide, smashing to tiny shards another wall of the greenhouse; the feed mechanism fault light flashed a quick warning and then went out again. Large laser and missile racks made up for the treacherously undependable autocannon, scoring deeply into the Puma’s notoriously thin armor protection.

The uneven exchange was enough to convince the Jaguar warrior that he needed some cover, but too late. The light ‘Mech had throttled into a run when Sinclair’s second strike slammed into it. Missiles pockmarked leg and chest, the ruby beam of the large laser cutting in afterward and probing deeply into the center torso. The Puma dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, shaking as if with a palsy. Large chunks of metal shot out the rent in the armor at high velocity, the gyro tearing itself to pieces in catastrophic failure. The Puma tumbled gracelessly through a thick patch of quillar. Connor turned his back on it to smash his way through several support beams and the far outside glass wall. Behind him the greenhouse facility collapsed inward like a broken house of cards.

Furey didn’t require monitors. Wherever he was waiting, the destruction of the greenhouse had to be easily visible. "Stravag!" he cursed over Smoke Jaguar frequencies. "I will crush them myself."

But where was the local commanding officer? And for that matter, where was Dominic? Running out from between two buildings and over the second bridge, the Bushwacker’s footsteps clanged against the metal decking. The lieutenant saw the broken and smoking form of a destroyed Blackhawk, its cockpit obviously smashed inward by a gauss round. Dominic’s handiwork, sure enough. But no sign of the Shadow Cat.

"This is Gunner. I’m over the last bridge and hitting the factory. There’s an Orion over here!"

Both questions were answered at once. The Orion was an old Inner Sphere design. Not quite on par with a Clan-tech OmniMech, but at 75 tons was only one step shy of an assault ‘Mech and was one of the larger machines he’d seen so far. Certainly the star captain would be piloting it.

And with 30 tons over Dominic’s Shadow Cat, the commando MechWarrior® was definitely outclassed.

Edging the Bushwacker over 85 kph, its maximum speed, Connor ran the squat war machine over the coastal plains and toward the third bridge -- too slow. Slender towers flanked access to the island factory, but the lieutenant paid them little heed as he saw Dominic’s Shadow Cat in a deadly dance around the larger Orion. The latter ‘Mech moved slow but with lethal grace, always on the verge of smashing Dominic’s Omni into scrap. The Shadow Cat packed a deadly punch with its gauss rifle, but then the Orion also massed twice as much armor protection as the smaller machine. Connor pounded his Bushwacker across the bridge -- never fast enough -- then dug his shovel-blade feet into the soft earth of the small island as he raced up into the battlezone.

Too late.

Metal fragments littering the ground winked in the late afternoon sun, testament to the hard-hitting engagement. The Orion’s left leg was all but stripped down to titanium skeleton, and large gouges in chest and right side told of other gauss hits. But even as the Bushwacker’s targeting reticle burned the deep gold of hard lock, drawing a bead with large laser and autocannon, the 75 ton machine struck back with a vengeance.

A flight of twenty long-ranged missiles, launched from impossibly close, scattered a flurry of jagged holes over the Shadow Cat’s right arm and body. Twin medium lasers grouped into Dominic’s left leg, spot-welding the knee joint immobile. Then the Orion’s 80-millimeter autocannon ripped into the previous missile damage, hammering at support struts and knocking the smaller OmniMech back. The onslaught proved too much for the ‘Mech’s gyro, and it toppled backward into one of the auxiliary factory buildings. The wall caved in behind Dominic’s Shadow Cat, and then everything seemed to happen in slow motion as two stories of wood and stone collapsed over the top of him.

Burying the MechWarrior® alive.