Warrior 2: Riposte by Michael A. Stackpole

Author:Michael A. Stackpole
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: BattleTech - 08609
ISBN: 9783890645469
Publisher: Fantasy Productions
Published: 2005-12-15T06:00:00+00:00

Book IV

Remise

WARRIOR. RIPOSTE 142

41

St. Andre

Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation

20 August 3028

A missile exploding against the DropShip's hull shot static through the auxiliary monitor's picture of the Dropmaster. The woman turned from the camera, then looked back at Andrew Redburn. "No sweat, Redburn. They just flamed that bird." She glanced at the time at the bottom of the screen. "Mark, one minute until drop. We're hot, so your children better have their brakes on."

Redburn nodded. "Roger." He reached out and switched his radio over to the tactical frequency. "Fifty seconds to drop, campers. This is the real thing. Archer and Demon Lances will harass the targets.

Bullseye, Cat, and Fox Lances, go in. Hit your jets when clear of the egg. Remember, we'll be facing

'Mechs lots bigger than we are, but the others in the First Battalion have them occupied. We're the sting.

Make it good."

Redburn gave his couch harness an extra tug to pull it tight over his cooling vest. Sending an assault lance of light 'Mechs against Assault 'Mechs? The intelligence on these Goliaths better be right or this Firestarter they've got me in will be my coffin. Stinging sweat dripped down into eyes as he waited for the seconds to tick off the digital display on his monitor.

Redburn felt two more explosions rock the Overlord Class DropShip Firewalker. I hope like hell this baby makes it to the drop zone. Above him, he heard the deep roar of the ship's auto-cannons as they spat clouds of metal back out at the Liao fighters swarming around the ship. He switched his radio back to speak with the Dropmaster and caught the piece of a transmission heading for her.

"Roger, Firewalker. We copy. Intercept in fifteen seconds. You sow the dragon's teeth and my Aerowing will keep the gnats off your hide."

The Dropmaster smiled. "Glad to have you with us, Falcon Leader. Torch One, drop in ten seconds, nine . . ."

Punching two buttons on his command console, Andrew patched the countdown through to his command, First Battalion's Delta company. "Because you and your people appear on no official rosters, Captain Redburn, you'll be our little surprise," Colonel Stone had remarked as the Firewalker hurled insystem from the sun's nadir jump point. "The first and second battalions will draw out Cochraine's Goliaths, and you'll goose them."

A series of sharp metallic rasps and clanks thundered through the Firestarter's cockpit as the drophatches irised open. Redburn's stomach lurched as the 35-ton Firestarter fell from the DropShip. The familiar thrum of engines and other comforting DropShip sounds suddenly vanished into the windy quiet of a drop.

Sensory input from a thousand sources flooded into Redburn's cockpit. Sorting through it, he ignored the fear that had built up while waiting for the drop. His brown eyes flashed on the altimeter, then growled, "Low drop, Delta. Burn hard! Now!" Following his own command, Redburn pushed hard on his foot pedals, igniting the jump jets on the Firestarter's back. He eased up on the left pedal for half a second, letting the right jet twist him toward the battlefield.

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