Chapter 28
I was thrown bodily forward, my seat harness snapping rigid, as my 'Mech was launched explosively from the DropShip's bay. I gasped in pain and instinctively squeezed my eyes shut as I was suddenly falling through space amidst a cloud of glittering metal chaff and fragments of ablative shielding. I'd had the forethought to switch off the comm, so screamed freely in terror.
If you think a atmospheric drop in a BattleMech is simply a kind of metal clad sky dive, where you hang as if suspended in a tranquil sky ... well I'm here to tell you it ain't. My ears were deafened by a constant rushing roar, as my eighty some ton mount smashed down towards the distant ground and terminal velocity. My jaw was clamped shut so hard it hurt, I forced my eyes open to find myself in a whirling, sickening, spin. I caught a flash of Mack's MAD-3D
Marauder, it's arm mounted weapon pods spread and it's back mounted thruster pack firing off directed little bursts that seemed to be stabilising it very quickly. Then I was spinning again, so that suddenly I was blinking up at the five DropShips banking away in a 'V' formation.
"Oh Christ, oh Blake, oh Christ, oh Blake." I babbled, thumbing the thruster controls on my right joystick and feeling a sudden thud-kick sensation from the rear of my 'Mech. It took me what seemed like minutes, though can only have been ten to twenty seconds, to right the blasted tin can, until it was in a spread eagle position, facing bellydown so I would have a sphincter loosening view of the ground once I passed through the cloud layer. Then suspended forward by my harness I hammered on the computer console before me, switching on the proximity radar and nav-systems.
Still breathlessly repeating my sacrilegious mantra to myself, I began to make the very cautious and careful adjustments to my position that would align my 'Mech to the flickering amber triangles now showing on my HUD, directing me to our planned Drop Zone inside Bright's estate. An altimeter flashed in the lower corner of the HUD, it's rapidly diminishing numbers only serving to intensify my shivering fear.
For a short moment I saw one of the other lances streaking down, Ian McKinnon's I think, their 'Mechs actually diving in downward pointing positions, in order to increase the speed of their descent. I don't doubt they were all whooping and laughing in their cockpits, the crazy idiots, but comm silence was strictly adhered to.
I then saw a spread of distant lights far away to the north; Avalon City I realised. That was quite something, a sight I'd never in a million years have dreamed I'd see whilst on a combat drop ... I could even just about make out the spur of the mountains which included Mount Davion, sparkling with the little cluster of lights that had to be the Palace. For just a moment I forgot the danger and gawked at the purple hued vista below, wondering whether we'd be visible like shooting stars to the Avalonians.
Then we hit the clouds and turbulence simultaneously, and I instantly began panicking again. We were churning through rain clouds and I struggled with the violently juddering sticks, whilst moisture slicked the tinted armourglass of my cockpit canopy. I was suddenly completely alone, I couldn't see two meters though the clouds and had no idea where the others were ... it was at that moment I realised I might actually be able to worm my way out of being part of the hellish battle that was about to take place when Mack's mob hit the dirt running.
This was my first combat drop, despite my Mallory's World reputation and the intelligence work I'd been dragged into over the previous few weeks, I was still just a raw nineteen year old greenhorn ... if I lost control of my 'Mech a little in these clouds and got spun off course, well no one would think anything of it, it was just the sort of unplanned for accident that happened all the time during military operations. My peers would be positively sorry for me, getting lost and arriving late, after all the 'fun' was over. Hanse might suspect I suppose, but really what could he do? Mack would back me I was sure ... my heart soared and I immediately began to nudge my 'Mech to it's left, away from the nav triangles on my HUD.
The altimeter read seven hundred and ninety meters when I erupted through the bottom of the rain clouds and the neat looking fields, orchards, farms and estates of Albion's River Basin District were spread beneath me. I craned my neck about to try to find where Mack and his boys were, for a moment I couldn't see them, then I realised they were some way to my right and a good deal closer to the ground than myself, which I took to be all too the better.
With a nervy start I suddenly remembered that I should have been firing my jets by now, in order to safely slow and control my final descent and landing. I was in the process of ratchetting up my thrust gently, when my comm started flashing and cursing I hit it.
"Tooth Two, this is Tooth One, you're off course, get back on my six pronto." Mack, the sharp eyed swine, had spotted what he doubtless took to be my error and his voice was all business. I couldn't think of a way to argue with him so started correcting my descent path, while my jets burned fully, guzzling fuel at an alarming rate, and I brought my machine up into an upright crouch.
I could make out Summer House itself, lit up clearly now some distance to my right, and after burning back in the general direction of Mack and the rest of the Command Lance I realised with a start I was going to land some distance from them, thanks to my abortive attempt to get myself lost. Typical ... again my instinctive cowardly scheming was going to probably land me in a worse spot than if I'd just gone with the flow.
The land seemed now to hurtle up to meet me, and jets burning I descended the final thirty meters or so. I came down actually in a pretty flower garden that I recalled Bright had pointed out to me as the Horace Bright Memorial Bower. Blake only knows who Horace Bright was precisely, but I made one hell of a mess of his flower beds.
My eighty tons of BattleMech landed at roughly ten meters a second, there was a bone jarring thud and turf went flying everywhere. At the same instant I heard the thudder-stutter of autocannon fire and a double explosion from the direction of the main house. Suddenly firing erupted from several directions and I tried to spin my
Victor thinking I was under attack, however I quickly realised the gunfire was coming from what sounded to be several firefights elsewhere about the estate. Well this could have been worse ... I dragged my 'Mech up and decided I'd stay right where I was for the time being. Paying my respects to Horace Bright as it were. Then when the battle began to wind down I'd charge in guns blazing, cursing volubly over the comm about becoming lost, or bogged down, or something.
I'd should have been so lucky.
* * *
Now battle was joined comm silence was thrown to the wind and I was surprised to find that the Third Covenant Society MechWarriors were using our comm channel, which was after all the AFFS standard. So, crouched in my bower, I heard chatter from both sides and several bizarre mid-battle exchanges, for example;
"Tooth One to Tooth Three, pot that bloody
Stinger Kurt old fellow. He nearly took my arm off then."
"I'll do more than that, you bastard."
"Tooth Three, I'm on him."
"Like hell you are, eat this."
"Watch the house lads! Watch the house!"
"We're under attack, we're under attack!"
"McKinnon you peasant-loving braggart, I'm going to kill you then move on your beloved boy-loving Prince." I suddenly heard Bright roar and thought, well better Mack have to deal with him than myself. It was at that moment a pair of Cabalist 'Mechs, a
Wasp and a
Shadow Hawk, ran across the entrance to the Bower. I think they were as surprised as I was, for they took a moment to stop, turn and look at me. We raised our 'Mech's weapons at the same time, but thankfully my fear made me quicker.
It was the first time I fired my
Victor's primary weapon, a massive Pontiac 100 vulcan autocannon. It's a fearsome beast of a weapon, a real 'Mech masher, firing 120mm depleted uranium shells. I'd aimed at the little
Wasp and couldn't miss at that range, we were barely ten meters from each other, the cannon shells tore straight through the light 'Mech's central torso and knocked out it's power plant. Shards of molten ceramite exploded in a firey cloud, then with an echoing volcanic flash the 'Mech disintegrated from the waist up, lighting the dim predawn fiercely.
"Kyle!" I heard a familiar woman's voice over the comm gasp in horror. In an instant I realised the
Wasp must have been piloted by Leftenant Kyle De Winters, a swarthy faced young rake from the Alex who'd been part of Bright's little dinner party. Well he was nothing to me, but it did make me pause for a second ... it ain't often you kill someone who a few days previous you were asking to pass the salt, is it? Also I froze at the recognition of Emma Jonath's voice from the
Hawk and I couldn't stop myself from gasping her name aloud. The fifty five ton
Shadow Hawk ducked away from the flaming remains of De Winters'
Wasp and I heard a curse over the comm.
"Darius? You fracking traitor!" Well our amour was clearly at an end as, while spouting the kind of language that would have shocked a Periphery pirate, she opened up on me with her 'Mech's Martel Model 5 laser cannon and a shoulder mounted Armstrong J11 60mm autocannon. My
Victor rocked under her damned accurate fire, which chewed into my machine's left arm and torso, damage alarms bleeped and I thought; Right ho lass, that's enough for me! Then promptly turned and jumped away from her and out of the flower garden over a neatly trimmed six meter high hedge.
She wasn't going to let me go that easily however, a woman spurned and all that I suppose, and she was instantly on my tail firing away at me with a deuced sharp eye. There followed what I remember as an epic chase, across the gardens of Bright's estate, I was in a fine panic and smashed, jumped and ran my way through hedges, lawns, bushes, flower beds and all manner of shrubbery. My ex-lover hot on my tail and launching flight after flight of missiles at me.
There were hot little 'Mech duels raging at various points about the estate, some of which we passed pretty close to, I recall half glimpsed and confused flashes of those fights; Ian McKinnon's
Marauder, twin to his father's, loosing off bolts of man-made lightning from it's arm pods into a quartet of armoured personnel carriers, two of which ruptured and spewed out members of Bright's private army, burning and thrashing in agony ... Dekker, firing into the windows of Summer House at infantry snipers, causing explosions to whoosh out, whilst bellowing fire and brimstone scripture ... two Cabalist
Rifleman 'Mechs making a stand by the Lantern Gazebo, their torsos swivelling and spent cannon shell casings falling from their thundering weapns, while Ryder's Lance circled them like wolves ... one of Vorster's Recon Lance, a
Wasp I recognised as having belonged to a skinny beanpole of a chap named Jaminski, stood burning and leaking a pyre of black smoke, on a gravel path I tore across, it's cockpit and head completely blown away ... a
Karnov VTOL hovering, it's turbofans whooshing, as black clad DMI commandos sped down lines ... peach trees burning in a ring ... a squad of rifle armed Cabalist infantry firing bravely at me, then evaporating into bloody pulp when I opened up on them with my 'Mech's heavy machine gun while running past ... missiles streaking through a little classical style folley ... Bright raging over the comm ... Jonath screaming venom.
In short we'd arrived before the sun and turned Bright's estate into a little corner of hell. I saw confused flashes of the whole, but only later learned that though we'd caught the Third Covenant Society completely by surprise, at least half their 'Mechs and armoured vehicles were at large in the estate grounds, perhaps Bright had been wary of just such an attack. It was a bitter fight, with no quarter given or asked, a fight between peers, men who days before were on the same side, perhaps even friends in some cases. Everywhere the air was rent with the chatter of small arms, the thudder-thudder of cannon fire, the shriek of missiles, bursting explosions and the sharp crack of particle cannons. Fires were raging across the parkland and gardens, while despite Mack's best intentions half the house itself was an inferno and dawn's light was washing the whole scene in a faint orange haze. I could not believe this was New Avalon, a short drive from the capital city itself!
I was about to try to desperately find some kind of ambush point from which to turn on the mad bitch pounding on my tail, when I smashed through another low hedge and hurtled my eighty tons of
Victor at perhaps sixty klicks per hour straight into another BattleMech. There was one almighty clang and we both went flying, I just had time to realise I'd smashed into a GRF-1N
Griffin ... Bright's 'Mech ... before crashing headlong into the gravel of the main dive.
I cracked my neurohelmet stunningly against the side of my cockpit's eject mechanism and nearly passed out from the pain, tasting the coppery tang of blood, and was only just aware of missiles streaking over head, presumably having been aimed at Bright. Gasping in agony and cursing, I struggled to roll my downed 'Mech to it's side just in time to catch sight of Emma's oncoming
Shadow Hawk, it's laser cannon flickering and lashing my 'Mech's left leg with an explosive flash.
With a grunt and feeling the oven heat in my cockpit rocket up all the more, from my helpless prone position I let go with everything I had in desperation; a volley of cyclomite CX-12 tipped medium ranged missiles, my Pontiac 100 cannon, my linked Sorenstein V 3mj laser cannons, even my .5 cal heavy machine gun. I nearly passed out once more, this time from the heat wash that smothered me, drying my mouth and causing sweat to flow into my eyes. However the volley flayed Emma's 'Mech's legs and torso. There was a dreadful shrieking sound and I caught a glimpse through blurred vision of a fiery burst of glowing ceramite and shattered adamantium fragments streaking out in a wide arc. Then, hit in mid pace, the
Hawk span uncontrollably forward into the cloud of flame riven black smoke.
"BASTARD!" A hate filled voice then suddenly crackled into my dazed ear and Bright's badly torn up
Griffin suddenly hammered down bodily onto my machine's breast, seemingly from nowhere. Bright screamed incoherently over the comm at me, while swinging up his 'Mech's massive left fist and hammered it into my cockpit's armourglass visor.
There was a frightful splintering thud and a crack spiderwebbed across the armourglass, but Blake-be-praised it held and as Bright swung to strike again there was an almighty blinding double flash of x-ray white light, followed by a molten belch as Bright's
Griffin's head-cockpit disappeared in a flashing electrical explosion. With a slow movement, followed by a 'ker-clang' sound, the decapitated 'Mech fell across me and I slumped my machine back in quaking relief.
* * *
"Darius? Darius are you okay?" Ross McKinnon's concerned voice penetrated my state of shock and I muttered.
"Uhh, yeah, damn he could throw a punch." To which Mack chuckled cheerfully.
"Well he's done now ... damn though where'd you spring from? I nearly hit you with that last missile volley." Ah, it sank in that I'd been chased into the middle of Mack and Bright's duel. Now, I'd have to come up with something to explain what was in fact a headlong terrified dash, so with a spark of inspiration I adopted a vaguely angry tone.
"I'm terribly sorry Sir, well this is deuced embarrassing ... I saw Bright and wanted to get in to have a crack at him ... but I've been having one hell of a time dealing with the increased weight of this lumbering great thing. I'm only used to lights and mediums y'see, I started running and ... well hang it all ... I couldn't stop in time ... this
Victor ... well it feels so heavy ... and well fat ... fat as fracking Falstaff." Christ knew where that simile came from, but it was inspired as unbeknownst to me Ross McKinnon loved his Shakespeare and it tickled him. He began to chuckle, then guffaw and soon he was positively roaring with laughter.
"Oh ... oh Darius that is a good 'un!" Mack chortled in rare good humour and show off that he was he positively continued; "
What, lie thou idle here? Lend me thy sword. Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, whose deaths are yet unrevenged. I prithee lend me thy sword." He then leant in and began pushing at that damned
Griffin awkwardly with his
Marauder's arm mounted weapon pods, and I pushed it up and off of my machine as best I was able.
Well the only lines of Falstaff's that sprang to my memory was his sound advice that '
the better part of valour is discretion' ... though I've never needed reminding of that and besides I didn't think Ross would agree. So I cribbed a line from Mack's role, affecting a mock angry tone;
"
What, is it a time to jest and dally now?"
To which Ross roared again. The windbag would probably have gone on, but as I struggled up a pair of Bright's armoured cars skidded past, rattling off light autocannon fire at us and we gave chase.
Well, the battle was for the most part over with the destruction of Jonath and Bright's 'Mechs, and though I exchanged fire with some of Bright's dwindling forces, within the next few minutes it was all finished bar the cleaning up. I'm told from start to end the Battle of Summer House only took ten minutes. It was a nasty business though.
I recall popping my cockpit hatch outside the main house itself, when the shooting had stopped, and clambering down my cockpit ladder. The place was a firestorm, that scorched my skin even at some distance, as I tugged off my suffocating neurohelmet, gasping for air, I nearly choked by breathing in a throat searing gust of ash filled smoke. My eyes were watering and I gagged as I saw a woman, a maid I think, run screaming out of that hell, her clothes were burned away, her skin hideously blistered, her hair actually aflame.
Jerome! I can still hear her screaming, smell that nauseating barbecue whiff ... she ran towards me, bloody burned fingers reaching for me, pleadingly ... mad with pain. I pushed at her arms and her skin came off in my hands ... ahh, but what's the point describing it to you? It's always the same when great men send their soldiers to kill their enemies in battle ... the innocent pay the price and are forgotten. Their pain is an unfortunate accident, a pity ... but certainly not reason enough in the minds of Princes to stay their hand when dishing out their killing orders.
I shot that poor maid dead through her forehead with my Sternsacht. I didn't cry. I was too bone tired for that. Too sickened. Too angry. I'd never wanted to be part of this kind of madness and if I had my way I wouldn't be ever again.
"Oh-ho there you are." Mack's damnably happy voice penetrated my bilious rage and I turned to see him clambering down from his crouched
Marauder. He stumped over, drawing out a cheap cigarette as he came, while staring up at the burning house muttering through his clamped jaw as he lit up.
"Shame ... shame ... well can't be helped." He looked at me again more closely and seeing the smouldering body of the woman, sighed and was about to say something when several infantry soldiers jogged up. They were wearing unmarked black combat fatigues, body armour and visored helmets, and carried Thorvald and Koch submachine guns. Being herded along amidst them were two rather battered looking Third Covenant MechWarriors, Max Levine and Emma Jonath. They both glared daggers at me as, after pausing for an instant, the foremost of the special forces men flicked up his helmet's visor to reveal grey eyes and a broken nose. He snapped off a brisk salute.
"Leftenant Baum. MI Department Six. 45th Special Forces Team. Pleasure to meet you Sir." He barked at Mack, then nodded politely across at me.
"Captain McKinnon, we've picked up the Kuritan agents trying to break out the grounds, but I have an executive order pertaining to all traitor MechWarriors captured. You might wish to be somewhere else." I looked at the young officer mystified, but Mack gripped my shoulder and pulled me away towards our 'Mechs.
"Right-oh Leftenant." Mack called over his shoulder and I let him pull me along, but I had a glimpse of the pair of ex-Guards traitors being pushed out from the group of commandos. I caught Emma's gaze for a brief moment and her eyes widened and she actually cried out to me by name, her voice suddenly pleading and terrified. Confused I turned back to Mack and at that moment there was a long chatter of gunfire. Mack gripped me around my shoulders hard, but I struggled free and turned in time to see Jonath and Levine hit the gravel, the house behind them a mass of leaping flames.
Well as you know I'm not one for sentimentality, but this was beyond the pale in my book. They don't call the DMI Department 6 lads the Rabid Foxes for nothing, but this was stone cold murder. Perhaps I knew they wouldn't really do me harm, perhaps for once I didn't care. I can't say now, but I flew back towards them, grabbed Baum by his shoulder and spun him around. He was so surprised he did nothing, however his men had their guns trained on me.
"WHY? WHY? You murdering ----!" I screamed at him and he let me hold him there by his collar.
"Leftenant?" Was all he said, his grey eyes fixed on mine in mute defiance. I let Mack pull me back from him and I pushed him away, staggering across to the two bodies. Mack was at my shoulder urging me to come away, but I shook off his hand and knelt down beside Emma.
She lived for just a moment as I looked down into her blinking eyes. Her cooling vest was punctured with several bullet holes, which leaked a mixture of coolant fluid and blood. Her mouth was moving, as if she was trying to say something to me, but only blood was bubbling out. A bullet had clipped the side of her temple and her glorious ashen hair was now liberally spattered with red. Her right hand jerked and I saw she was holding a silver and gold crucifix on a chain. I blubbed then, Mack standing at my side tutting softly in sympathy, well I'd bored of her as a lover and thought her a tiresome political fanatic ... but this?
Hanse had wanted no unpleasant publicity raised by any treason trials at that time, his position was too shakey. We'd been told to kill all the Third Covenant Society and the MI6 teams were there to do it if we didn't. I hated Hanse at that moment, every bit as much as I'd hated Bright, and Hasek-Davion, and all the other power-mad maniacs whose scheming led people to this; bullets, blood, fire and death.
Emma died at that moment and I took the bloodstained crucifix on it's chain. I still have it, tucked away in a draw in my study and take it out whenever I need to remind myself about precisely what methods Hanse was prepared to use to win power. Poor old Emma ... she was a cracking looking gal, quite the acrobat in the bedroom. A devil with her fingernails though.
"C'mon old son, we've faced the worst; what comes next can't be half as bad." Mack said with feeling and led me away sobbing.