BattleTech Legends: Ideal War by Christopher Kubasik

Author:Christopher Kubasik [Kubasik, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Catalyst Game Labs
Published: 2011-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

The call came in just as they reached the ‘Mechs. Belgrade and a private from the first were loading bodies into the hovercraft when the radio unit on the ground spit out a panicked cry: “ ‘Mech lance, this is Second Squad H-craft! They’ve got us. They found us. Sweet Jesus, they found us!”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nagasaki Valley, Gibson

Principality of Gibson, Free Worlds League

23 January 3055

Masters ran for his Phoenix Hawk and threw his hands one rung after another up the ladder. Spinard, already sitting in his Hatchetman, took off, cracking thick branches off the forest’s lower trees as he headed toward Second Squad’s location. Belgrade moved next, and before Masters could reach his cockpit Valentine had also taken off in her ‘Mech. Just before opening the hatch of his own cockpit, Masters shouted down to Chick and the private, “Get the bodies in and follow us! Don’t get ahead of us!” Then he pulled the hatch shut, and followed the rest of the lance.

He moved quickly through the trees, putting pressure on the foot pedals to circle around trees and make narrow shortcuts. His mind raced with questions. Hadn’t intelligence said there was only a platoon in the area? Hadn’t they just taken out a platoon? For a well-run war, full of tabulations and tables, their data seemed woefully inaccurate.

The sounds of fighting that came in over his speakers from Second Squad sounded furious and overwhelming. He heard a new voice, not Sergeant

Donalds’, come over the speaker. “They’re all over the place!” Then the channel fell completely silent but for a light static.

Masters looked down at his screen. The Second’s blip rested a third of the way up the screen, three minutes at least through the forest at current speed. Too long. He pushed his throttle forward, and the thrum of the extra heat sinks kicked in. A thick group of giant trees loomed ahead. He pulled back on the throttle and slowed the ‘Mech, but Masters still would not clear them easily if he didn’t stop—which he did not want to do.

He turned the ‘Mech sharply, and he felt the Phoenix Hawk lean left. A moment of panic hit him, as it always did whenever his ‘Mech began to tilt. While seated on top of forty-five tons of metal, it always seemed that the beginning of a fall was doomed to end in impact. A fall could do major damage to the ‘Mech, even internal injury. With countless rounds of machine gun ammo as well as short-range missiles packed away, such damage could set off a conflagration that would broil him even as he fumbled for the cockpit latch.

But Masters was saved by his neurohelmet. Linked to his body through sophisticated sensors, the helmet used his own inner ear to compensate for the ‘Mech’s lack of balance. The gyroscopes made quick, tiny, but ultimately vital adjustments. The right foot slammed down at just the right spot, the impact sending Masters up out of his seat. Then the ‘Mech pulled its left foot forward and finished balancing itself.

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