Loyal Son of Earth – Chapter 2
Excerpt from Debrief
Subject: Alius Cad’ver, Lieutenant, TMSF
He flicks a quick half-shrug and quirks a brow momentarily.
“Of course, I suppose it was bound to happen, whether it was me or someone else. Adams seemed to already have a support mechanism in place to raise a large army really fast.
“I’ve seen a lot of BattleTech universes,” He starts to say, reflecting, but pauses. His attention goes off-screen, eyebrows raised. “Oh. BattleTech? It’s a game I grew up with when I was a kid. It was about giant robots, piloted by humans, as the ultimate weapons in the 31st century. The bots in the game, as well as the major powers at war match this universe. And others. You have to wonder if some of what we think as creativity isn’t actually a glimpse into other realities.”
“Anyway, there are multiple variations. Some minor. Some major. All have something in common. First is the King of the Battlefield: the BattleMech. Second: No matter if it’s a star lord or a mere knight, someone always has something to prove and wanting to pick a fight.”
Comstar HPG Compound
Outskirts of Foundation Point
New Earth
12 July 3040
True to her word, Sir Jenn had returned. She and three other Knights, mounted up in BattleMechs, overlooked the Comstar Compound from the ridge which hid the rest of the capital from view. In his own Warhammer’s cockpit, Al spotted each of the four ’Mechs easily through the wall and trees. The HUD had them painted before his eyes on his Neurohelmet visor in a neutral green. They also had one other little feature. Each one had a unique, brightly emblazoned crest hovering over each cartoon image.
Bill ‘Axe’ Bennet, the fourth member of the command lance, was listing off the names of each Knight. “Ranier, Land, Beufort and Hart. A full lance from the Royal Guard.” His scratchy tenor sounded jovial.
Kip’s bodiless voice was calm. “Think the command lance can take them?”
“It’s a medium strike lance in a heavily obstructed terrain. We have the weight advantage,” Grove replied.
“Good. Chase them from the premises,” Kip ordered. “I need to organize the facility’s defense with the rest of the company. I’ll join you shortly.”
“Understood,” Grove answered with sudden enthusiasm. “Rookie. Axe. Let’s move out. I’ll take up a covering position. You two advance steadily and engage at will.”
Al echoed Axe’s affirmative. “Axe,” he added. “Which one’s Rainier?”
“Why? Think she’s pretty?” Grove sounded amused.
“No,” Al explained calmly. “I’m just curious how he knows who they are.”
“The crests,” Axe said. “Royalty 101, Rookie. The Royal Guard are nobility, so everyone should know who they are. Rainier’s in the Phoenix Hawk 1D. Remember the crest. Lord Bufort is in the Phoenix Hawk 1K. Lord Hart rides the Shadow Hawk. And Lord Land rides the pride of the Commando.”
“The pride of the Commonwealth,” Grove replied, sounding smug.
Al listened to Axe’s explanation while deftly working the throttle and pedals to follow his two lance mates through the front gate. As Axe brought up each name, Al zoomed in on each crest. Jenn’s was a shield with a green triangle surrounded by three colors; red and blue on either side and a bright yellow underneath. The yellow also edged the outside of the shield.
Once past the gate, he could see them clearly through the trees. The cartoon coloration of the HUD lessened, allowing him to see the camouflage pattern on each BattleMech. Al smirked at the odd notion. They wanted people to recognize who they were, and yet they painted their machines in Forest camo. The crest that hovered above each Knight’s ’Mech he easily spotted painted on the right shoulder, with the New Earth Royal Guard emblem equally prominent on the left shoulder.
“All right,” Grove said. “Enough chatter. It’s time to let them know our intentions.”
On Al’s compressed 360 display, Grove was already moving to his left, her Warhammer taking position in the copse of decorative trees just beside the front gate. All the while, she kept talking.
“Members of the New Earth Royal Guard,” she said, not using the more derogative ‘Nerg’ that usually got tossed around. “Withdraw or we will force you to leave.”
“If that’s all you got, this is going to be easy,” Jenn answered. “This is your last chance, Merc.”
Axe also steered his Warhammer to the left, leaving Al to steer right, throttling to a stop just outside of the gate. He could practically hear the sneer as Jenn delivered her reply. If he could shake his head, he would have. The constriction of the neurohelmet would not, keeping head and shoulders locked in a near fixed position for pilot safety. He slumped his shoulders, muttering to himself while she talked on. “This is certainly not one of your finer moments.”
Over Al’s quiet accusation, Jenn continued with mock diplomacy. “Withdraw into the compound. Send out Adams and his Knight. We’ll leave you in peace.”
Grove responded with a quick burst from both her light autocannons. The shots forced Jenn’s Phoenix Hawk into defensive action. It looked like the ’Mech tried to dodge the shots, rolling its right shoulder and twisting to the right. The twin streams of shells painted on Al’s HUD would have scored solid hits, but instead ricocheted harmlessly off a now-angled surface. This cut short any further speech on Jenn’s part.
The humanoid Phoenix Hawk recovered from the action deliberately. It looked like a person who had just taken a punch across the jaw. The machine’s tuning to the pilot was remarkable, the way he felt it take up a hard stare at the three Mercs lined up before it at the bottom of the hill.
The sneer was gone from Jenn’s voice, replaced with disgust. “Fine! You were warned.”
Finally, the fight Al knew was inevitable was underway. The vain formalities and posturing were over. Up on the ridge, the holographic heralds winked out and the enemy turned a distinct red on his HUD. It wasn’t a solid shade. No details were lost in the transition, in spite of the ECM activity on both sides. Lighting and line breaks were still very well defined in a better rendition than some of the really old, really bad cartoons he had seen. He could still identify each mech in full detail, but in a red tone.
The NERG fanned out to Al’s right, coming down the hill, wading through the light forest that followed the slope in uneven lines. At the bottom of the hill, a parking lot spread out before him. Two little bar gates led to roads. One was off to his right, following the perimeter of the wall before shooting straight east. The other was slightly to his left, following a small stream up the ridge, winding to follow the drainage. In spite of the armor protection on his heavy, seventy metric-ton machine, experience suggested that Al needed to find some cover while allowing him to target the enemy at range.
“Let’s leapfrog this, Rookie,” Axe said.
And, then there were his orders. Steady advance.
“Gotcha,” Al answered.
Axe’s Warhammer raced across the parking lot.
Al noted the thick woods next to Grove. While he waited for Axe to get into place, he throttled his own Warhammer into a quick march, aiming for just in front of the trees to Grove’s left. While his machine covered the distance, Al glanced at his reticles, passing them over each Knight to confirm what he already knew. In spite of their advance, none of the NERG would be in effective firing range for his particle cannons for nearly twenty seconds.
Once in position, he turned away from the woods and toward the Knights, then hit full reverse. His Warhammer didn’t need his hand to guide it to avoid collisions. All he needed to do was point it in the right direction. The maneuvering program deftly avoided giant tree trunks, smashing only a few branches while picking its way deeper into the foliage until he throttled a stop. He listened to the swish and scrape of undamaged limbs in passage and while they resumed their normal positions afterward. Some whipped out in front of his cockpit’s narrow, visor-like armored window, obstructing any natural view. The HUD naturally compensated with a series of colored overlays showing the lay of the land, the position of trees, cars, and all potential combatants.
While Al was busy getting into place, Axe and Grove exchanged shots with Hart’s Shadow Hawk. He turned his eyes to the scene just in time to watch the Shad roll with the punches. Light autocannons and Particle Projector Cannons drifted harmlessly across actively moving surfaces. Axe’s Warhammer easily shrugged off Hart’s AC and Long Range Missile counter fire.
Then, Axe’s Warhammer lifted into the air on a cloud of steam. The HUD projected Axe’s course to a copse of trees just beyond the rightward bend of the northbound road. Comms came to life with encrypted radio chatter. It was one thing when either the Shad or Jenn’s Pixie lifted into the air. They were designs known for jump capability, and even had outward cues of that capacity in the form of rockets on the Phoenix Hawk’s back or a giant backpack on the Shadow Hawk. The stock Warhammer design wasn’t so outfitted. It had to sacrifice either armor protection, weaponry, or stamina in the form of cooling capacity. Axe’s Warhammer had the outward appearance of a stock WHM-6R, and it fired PPCs with some regularity. This time, each cannon that comprised a lower arm on Axe’s ’Mech turned their azure beams on Bufort’s PHX-1K, joining the twin stream of shells from Grove’s own arm cannons. Bufort also danced the damage off.
Hart’s AC managed to ride into the explosions from the LRMs on Axe’s right shoulder, in spite of some fancy aerial spurts in the Warhammer’s downward arc. The friendly blue of his colleague’s holographic form changed hue on the arm. ‘First blood’ went to the NERG.
“I’m almost in position,” Axe said, no sign of the rigors of the last couple exchanges in his voice. “Your turn, Rookie.”
Al had just throttled to a stop.
“Acknowledged,” he said.
As Axe disappeared into the thick set of trees, Al throttled forward. His Warhammer waded out of the trees and marched rapidly across the parking lot. Just as metal feet hit pavement, Al surveyed his targets, using the reticles to see what the combat computers suggested. He had to readjust a couple times while his ’Mech hopped over or stepped around the few parked cars in his way.
The NERG were making steady progress downhill, having to slow while wading through trees at times. His HUD painted likely paths of travel, very similar to how the different weather broadcasts projected hurricane trajectories. The Commando would be the best, closest target once Al reached the northward road. Waiting the half second for his ’Mech to level from another hopped car, he toggled firing solutions for the PPCs and waited for the signal of a good lock.
“Gah,” Grove said. “I don’t have a clear shot.”
“I’m going commando,” Al said, smirking invisibly at his pun.
“Good idea. I’ll join you,” Axe said.
Al was just at the bar gate when a clearing opened between him and the rapidly advancing Commando. His HUD reticles flashed gold. Reflexively, Al triggered his PPCs in a one-two combination. First the right beam lanced out, then the second. The Commando ducked right, putting some branches between it and Al. Between having to burn through foliage and the target’s quick shifting dance, it was enough to only heat the armor for the few necessary seconds. The light ’Mech looked like its name suggested, very human with a helmeted looking head and masked face. Only the choppy dance movement and the almost superhuman speed at which it pumped its boxy arms and legs were any clue it was very much machine.
The dodge also threw off Axe’s lone beam.
Axe Growled. “You ruined my shot, Rookie!”
Al didn’t say anything. Having worked with the seasoned pilot for a while now, he knew that was how Axe was. Instead, he focused on making himself a difficult target. He skidded his Warhammer to a halt just shy of the arm gate, pulling the throttle into reverse for a couple seconds. Then, he went to marching speed again, letting his machine hop the gate.
The Knights all seemed to home in on Axe, all paths diverging in his direction. Even Land’s Commando ran over, hopping the road and stream to sidle into the trees. It was Al’s best target, so he quickly toggled firing solutions for his PPCs while they recharged.
“Axe! What are you doing,” Grove snapped. “You’re not the brawler, Al is!”
Axe was already airborne. In a nice fake-out mid-air, he caught Land by surprise. In the last few seconds of thrust, he angled down to ground behind the Commando. Land recognized he didn’t have time to turn on Axe before the Warhammer opened up on him. Al watched the Commando whip its arms down straight in his direction. Missiles burst from its chest and out of the pod on the right wrist. It only took a split second for the missiles to streak toward Al. They still fell behind the laser beam from the Commando’s left wrist.
Al’s machine jinked left then dodged right and shrugged down, still marching along. The laser tracked but the armor diagram didn’t change color. Ten missiles exploded all around the Warhammer, but looked too far away, front and behind, on the monitor. In a couple cases where they were close enough, the Warhammer twitched the shoulders left and right.
Uphill, the Commando was already dancing to the tune of the six missiles launched from the pod over Axe’s right shoulder. Al’s reticles flashed gold, and he one-two tapped the triggers for his PPCs. Both tracked true. The first blackened the whole armored shell up and down the right arm before ripping a giant gash the entire length of the limb. Plastic muscles burned and evaporated. The metallic bone melted and warped. Electric discharges from the ionized air danced up and down the limb, knocking out any sensitive electronics. Safeties kicked in, and the mangled limb went limp. The final result looked like it had been left to overcook in a fire, with only half its visible mass left.
The damage from the PPC blast rocked the Commando. Then the second one hit the right leg. The armor absorbed as much of the energy as it could, before the beam started to rip a tear along the thigh. The damage wasn’t near as extensive as to the arm. For a moment, the leg didn’t respond while the Commando toppled, but then it whipped out to correct Land’s staggering motion.
That motion was well timed for Sir Land. Axe had hopped a couple steps forward and swung in with a kick. The Commando’s leg intercepted Axe’s kicking leg early, and tripped the heavy machine. It tried to correct, staggering away to its right, but it had to avoid tripping on a tree. It was too much, and Warhammer hit the ground, landing hard on its right shoulder and not so lightly on its right hip.
“Are you all right?” Grove asked.
“I’m okay. My ’Mech’s a little beat up, but I’m good.
“Get out of there,” she said, sounding concerned.
“I’ll try. Running a little hot.”
Al recalled Axe’s two failed PPC shots on Jenn’s Phoenix Hawk, in addition to the SRM volley on Land’s Commando. Between those weapons and the hot jets, Axe’s Warhammer would be running a little slow from heat stress on the electronics.
“I’ll try to make myself an easier target,” Al said, “maybe try drawing them off you.”
Still out on the road, just shy of the bend, he hit the throttle to neutral, and his Warhammer came to a stop. He envisioned a combat stance. Reading the impulses through the neurohelmet, the ’Mech mimicked his desired movements.
Axe tried as hard as his machine would allow. Propping itself on a tree, it stood and waded into the deeper thicket. The sight was painful to watch. The Warhammer looked all too human, like it was in pain or fatigued as it labored to move.
The Knights didn’t fall for Al’s bait. They had figured out the BattleAxe variant of Axe’s Warhammer. It had very little close-up punch. Land wheeled his Commando around, chasing and outpacing Axe into the woods. Jenn’s Pixie soared over the road, chasing Axe into the woods on a cloud of steam. The Shadow Hawk similarly trailed along behind. The odd one out was the Pixie 1K, which didn’t have the rockets on its back. It raced along a clearing in the tree line.
Jenn was going to be landing directly behind Axe, firing onto the weaker rear armor. Al quickly toggled solutions on her Pixie. Fire discipline overroad his strong desire to help out a friend. He didn’t want to be facing complications from heat build-up with the enemy only a couple hundred meters away. He triggered only one PPC, but threw in the SRM launchers. They were in effective range, though the projected hit percentages were not that great.
His PPC was not fully recharged until Jenn landed. Foliage and some defensive contortions were enough that his azure beam and six missiles did no real damage to her armor. Her nice paintjob was ruined that much further, but that was it.
The damage on Axe’s ’Mech was already light, with only his right leg and front right torso box discolored on the HUD from the Large Laser hits directed at him by both Phoenix Hawks, earlier. The concentrated fire from the NERG was also light, now. Their constant movement, the woods and range meant their fire discipline was coming into play, as well. Axe should have been in good shape, but while he focused his missile pod on the Commando again, Jenn caught his machine square in the back.
The shot from the rifle-like Large Laser in the Pixie’s right hand scored low, overwhelming a fair amount of the armor on Axe’s left leg. But, the real killer was the unlucky follow-up shot from the wrist-mounted Medium Laser on the same hand which twitched up to land a breach shot straight between Axe’s shoulders. On Al’s HUD, his colleague’s blue cartoon character received an icon over its head. Gyro Damage.
The concentrated fire from the NERG was enough to stagger Axe in his defensive maneuvers, but the giant gyroscopic stabilizer was now out of balance. The Axe-hammer tried to compensate for the sudden extra forward momentum. Axe, however, was never the best pilot when it came to adverse situations. Al knew this from countless simulations with the team. Axe tried too hard to command the machine. Going with his instructions, it toppled forward when trying to avoid another tree trunk. It knelt hard, crunching armor on the shin and knee of the right leg, then punched the ground with the opposite cannon to stabilize itself.
The NERG were not above kicking a Merc while he was down. The Commando stepped forward and whipped a leg out to connect with the supporting arm, changing its blue hue closer to yellow. Jenn continued the trot from her landing, coming close to whip a kick that crushed the armor of Axe’s left shin from behind. Al’s HUD painted Axe’s cartoon leg red. It wasn’t sophisticated enough to portray the actual damage sustained in the cartoon’s form. Instead, an ‘Actuator Damage’ icon popped into existence next to the ‘Gyro Damage’.
For the briefest moment, he missed some of his older rides, which were good enough to predict and paint the actual damage on the HUD. Though lots of practice had him used to the icons, he still found them kind of goofy.
Al gave up on his stance, and throttled his Warhammer into a brisk march, angling to follow the bend in the road.
“Just stay down,” Grove ordered.
“They’re going to beat me to pieces,” Axe complained.
“They’re not taking my bait, either,” Al said. “I’m on my way.”
The Knights were unconcerned about making themselves difficult targets. Instead, Jenn and Land settled themselves a safe but short distance away from Axe, waiting for weapons to recycle before pouring into him again and hopping forward to plant more kicks on his downed machine.
Jenn got toggled for both of Al’s PPCs.
Then he heard beeping. Someone was tracking him. He noticed the Shadow Hawk riding a column of steam in his direction, and was projected to land in the woods only ninetyish meters from where Al was headed. His machine was already starting to weave side to side trying to spoof the enemy’s combat computers. It was time to bring out the Warhammer’s full broadside. Al worked his way through the remaining triggers, activating solutions for the remaining weapons and putting fire control of the cannons to the discretion of the combat computer. When he was close enough, he spun his ’Mech to the left to face the Shadow Hawk full-on, and line up to back into the woods behind him.
Just as he started to turn, his PPCs tracked onto Jenn and fired simultaneously. Both beams found their way through the trees to land on her ’Mech. One was neutralized by a well-timed duck and weave, but the other tracked home, and her red cartoon turned a bright yellow on its trapezoidal right torso.
Then Al concentrated on the Shad. He and Hart seemed to time their shots almost simultaneously, both waiting for that range at which all their weapons saw a sudden change to easy hits. Hart got there first. Al finished clamping down on his triggers when he had to stiffen and ride out defensive motions from his giant ride.
The entire exchange took all of a couple seconds.
First, the Warhammer dodged right to diffuse the crimson beam projecting from the Shad’s bulky wrist-mounted laser. The armor display showed solid contact with the left leg.
The Quartet of ruby beams from the Warhammer’s lower chest played harmlessly over the enemy. The Shad twisted a beam off a leg and hip while bringing up its left arm to intercept a couple beams halfway through burning its central and right upper body.
Then the Warhammer took a step back to present glancing faces to the stream of slugs traced from the giant cannon over the Shad’s left shoulder. The motion was too slow, and the armor diagram on the left leg glowed a brighter yellow.
Finally, it ducked back as two missiles from the giant canister over the Shad’s left shoulder exploded in front of Al’s machine, down and slightly to the left. Faint coloration decorated the center torso and left arm.
The other five missiles from the canister didn’t track onto him. Instead, they veered overhead and slightly to Al’s left. Out of the corner of Al’s eye, on the compressed panoramic monitor, they exploded around Grove’s machine. For all the branches and leaves that were destroyed in the blasts, Grove’s Warhammer was unchanged.
Al caught the flashes from Grove’s light autocannons, and watched the Shadow Hawk finish its defensive dance with a couple quick steps back. The first stream managed light discoloration on the enemy’s left leg, but the other burst followed on as the limb moved, impact sparks spreading out ineffectually.
The ‘heat wash’ that was popularized in shows and books wasn’t anything like what Al felt while he put the throttle into reverse. There was a slight increase in temperature, and he could hear liquid moving and fans whirring to protect the electronics and the pilot in the cockpit. But it wasn’t as uncomfortable as the story folk would have him believe. It wasn’t enough to make him break out in sweat, nothing more than he already did in unmentionable places while in an enclosed room.
But, the thermal tracker for his machine’s internal heat was rising swiftly, like the temp gauge in a car after the radiator has blown or otherwise lost pressure. In this case, though, the radiator fans kicked in automatically and coolant pumps whirred to life. The gauge quickly halted its upward progress. In his soundproofed cockpit, Al couldn’t really hear the activity. He only knew what it sounded like when present to see the techs test the equipment.
Still, it wasn’t moving back down yet, either. That would take a few seconds longer.
His Warhammer labored to back through the woods just as painfully as Axe’s had only a few seconds before. In front of him, Hart didn’t pursue. Sparing a glance uphill to the woods, Axe was doing an interesting study in a partial stand to twist his ’Mech around before kneeling back down. Al blew out a disgusted sigh through his nose. Axe’s armor was turning deeper orange and red in places, and he had one more new damage icon hovering over his machine. It was more actuator damage on the mangled left leg.
His ’Mech beeped in his ear again, drawing his attention forward. Bufort’s Phoenix Hawk 1K was charging over the hill, and would be closer to him than Hart’s Shadow Hawk in the few seconds of recharge time. Al decided to trigger his short range launchers on the fresh target. As warm as his ’Mech was, the chances of success weren’t great, but with three independent trackers tied to three pairs of short range missiles, one of them was likely to get a missile through.
To Al’s surprise, the NERG took a turn of bad luck. As Bufort’s Pixie hit the road to run over toward Al, something he or his machine did caused the road to buckle. Coordination between Knight and ride faltered when it tripped and stumbled. The Pixie’s arms went wild and when it tried to catch itself, its foot slid out from under it on the normally unyielding pavement. Chest and leg armor deformed where it impacted the road, and sparks flew as its momentum carried it into the woods at the end of the bend. It slid to a halt to Al’s right.
With Bufort as his designated target, the Warhammer automatically twisted its upper body to track. Al tried to help a bit by turning to follow while continuing the backward movement. There was a brief instant of gold flashing from the reticle and Al took it. The missiles flew out and forward, corkscrewing around, but ECM, brush and foliage, and the unpredictably sudden stop of Bufort’s skid by a tree made all missiles explode too early or late for any effect.
Al had to stiffen again when his ’Mech suddenly sidestepped left. Explosions flashed on his HUD around his machine, the blasts from missiles audible in his cockpit as muted thuds or felt as minor vibrations. Leaves disappeared from view on the other side of the glass, and on the monitor his view of Hart’s Shad cleared up when a ruby beam cleared away even more. The shuddering impacts from Hart’s autocannon were nearly simultaneous with the flashes, catching the Warhammer’s other leg at the end of its drastic move.
The radiators and coolant pumps surged again, and Al felt his Warhammer’s motion become smoother, stronger. Watching Bufort struggle to stand, Al kept his throttle in reverse, wading into the dense woods to set himself up for a better shot. He toggled only the body armament at the rising Pixie, leaving the fire control to his ’Mech’s discretion. The cannons he kept free for some close-up clubbing. Bufort seemed all too willing for some fisticuffs, turning his ’Mech to face Al when it was on its feet.
Uphill, motion caught Al’s attention. Jenn abandoned the beating on Axe, jetting over the trees to land in the woods overlooking the bend where Bufort fell. Only Land’s Commando remained to keep Axe occupied. The encrypted exchange on the radio confirmed what Al suspected. They were rushing to help a downed friend.
“Holy crap, Rookie,” Grove said a little belatedly. “They’re all gunning for you now.”
“I see it,” Al replied calmly.
“It’s not much, but I’ll help you,” Axe added.
The following chaos was hard for Al to follow. Lots of shots were sent at him from many directions, and his ’Mech’s defensive maneuvers, combined with lots of leaves and branches, kept most of the shots from connecting. Though he did see the armor diagram change colors, he was focused enough on Bufort that he ignored the information.
Through his focus, he watched Bufort’s right arm beams, wrist and pistol, burn into his ’Mech before a small laser from the Warhammer’s waste tagged it while the other three lasers played harmlessly elsewhere. The Pixie’s upper body was enveloped by a huge cloud of six missile explosions. Then, a Blue beam from uphill intersected the ruby beam from the Phoenix Hawk’s chest, and slammed into the left arm, redirecting that wrist laser.
The Pixie twisted to the side, head tilted like it had been socked with a right hook and lightly discolored from damage. It stumbled back a bit, hit a tree, and fell to the ground. It landed on its right side, then continued to roll onto its chest. Bufort was still recovering from the ordeal, his ’Mech moving like a man just woken from a nap.
Al saw his opportunity and pounced. Ignoring the sudden call of pain from Axe, he throttled forward. His Warhammer arrested its backward motion easily and marched forward a couple steps, pushing past a couple thin trees. Just when it was about to walk over Bufort’s machine, Al triggered a kick.
The Enemy machine tried to push itself aside in time, rolling onto its left. But, the Warhammer’s wide foot caught the Pixie on the back, just inside the shoulder, and brought its weight down, crushing the back armor and mangling the supports underneath. There was still just enough there to keep the arm attached, but the internal damage was enough that it did something to Bufort’s engine. His cartoon overlay got a red icon indicating ‘Engine Damage’.
The HUD put up a friendly notifier that Bufort’s cooling capacity had stalled. He wouldn’t be cooling off unless he shut his machine down. In spite of this, Bufort was still struggling to stand. Al backed away, triggered his torso weapons for another firing solution. When he had a second, he took a quick glance at Axe.
The Axe-hammer was no longer kneeling. The left leg was a mangled mess, registering black on Axe’s cartoon, with no power to it. It also had light damage coloration to the visored cockpit. Along with the ‘Leg Destroyed’ and ‘Gyro Damage’ icons, there was a new ‘Engine Damage’ icon.
Al became aware of the trailing end of the conversation between Grove and Axe.
“-You all right?” Grove asked, sounding concerned.
“Yeah. Just a little bruised from the rocking,” Axe answered. “Don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“Hang in there. I’m on my way.” Kip Jones said.
It had been only a minute and a half of combat, and finally the last of the Command Lance was on his way out. His appearance sparked a new wave of coded chatter. None of the NERG seemed willing to stick around with yet another seventy-ton Warhammer marching out of the gate.
“You have won this day, mercenaries,” Jenn said for everyone to hear. “Let us withdraw and we’ll leave in peace.”
“Accepted,” Kip replied. “Take your people and leave.”
Al quickly canceled the fire order on his weapons, and watched Bufort’s Phoenix Hawk trudge out onto the road and up the hill.