EMCOTS-2 11

=Emergence (Concertverse) Book 2 - Chapter 11=
Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter
-----
==By Talon and Fang==
----
===Wolves at the Gates===
The Triad
Tharkad, Donegal Province
Lyran Commonwealth
Transglass Inner Sphere
23rd June, 3143
----
The sight of four sizzling PPC bolts wreaking destruction on a Lifeguard-piloted Gae Bolg heralded an exchange of deadly fire between the opposing lines of war machines. Nathaniel watched the tall humanoid machine falter and tip, the left side of the machine turned into a ruined mass of black metal and burning myomer. At the last moment the pilot recovered enough to twist and present his right arm to return fire. Beside him a Sabaton, shorter and squat with mounted Gauss Rifles and PPC on prominent shoulder and arm barrels, thundered a return shot. The Lifeguard Regiments 'Mechs and tanks opened fire in a fusillade into the approaching ranks of gold and amber machines with their snarling wolf head insignias. 
The years of academy and field training guided Nathaniel's hand into repeating the action. His lasers and PPCs opened up on the moving figure of a Wolf Mad Cat Mk. II. Unlike that 'Mech's counterpart on his side of the Glass, it was a hulking ninety-ton assault 'Mech, and the tell-tale ripple of Gauss weapons showed on each arm as it fired in reply. When his 'Mech didn't shake with a direct hit, Nathaniel imagined his foe had missed. Or fired at someone else. He selected his tac-comm with glances on his interactive HUD. The neurohelmet was one of the advanced, post-Terran War designs, with interior micro-cameras following his eye movements to register his inputs on the HUD menu. Once he was on the lance channel he spoke. <<"Crown Lance, forward, in time with Alpha Company!">>
Some of the Lifeguards' smaller 'Mechs, as well as their heavy tanks, kept to defensive positions prepared on the Narrows. The rest were already at full speed, moving laterally across the elegant avenue to evade, backwards to cover damage, or forwards to draw fire. Nathaniel noted Harold's Silver Knight moving forward with his raised shield, deflecting laser shots and missile hits. The glancing blows would do nothing but scratch the solid curved plate of the Silver Fuller's shield, but eventually direct hits would wreck it. In the meantime, his immediate bodyguard had his right side protected, while to the left the autocannons and PPCs mounted to the Mad Cat II and Thor of his remaining lancemates. The HUD dutifully identified them as Lieutenants Trayvon Rutgers and Octavia Suddreth, reminding Nathaniel that he'd been so busy with army preparations that he'd not developed closer ties to any of his potential lancemates in the Lifeguards. I suppose in more traditional circumstances, Uncle Peter might have joined me instead, he pondered. Or my old lance from the Bolan Heavy Guards, had I asked them to come to Arcadia with me. A laser beam briefly played over his cockpit before it drifted away, too quickly to begin degrading the laminated ferro-glass surface. Nathaniel's heart skipped a beat. Dammit, stop thinking about it, fight!
For all the battleROM footage he'd witnessed through his life, nothing compared to being here. To sitting in Liberator's cockpit in the midst of the storm of carnage of a modern battle. Light melted armor and metal bone, particle and shell tore it, missiles blasted it. Amidst the chaos Colonel Laughlin's Fusilier darted to the front of the main company, the veteran pilot taking hits but missing the worst as his autocannon, missiles, and pulse lasers blazed defiance at the Wolves' best. He should be back with the Flanker Company! Nathaniel thought, but Laughlin was Ranger Corps at heart, and it was not their way to stand still in a fight.
Nathaniel tested his lasers on the wounded Mad Cat Mk. II he'd already shot at. Two solid beams and a pulsing beam from Liberator's left arm and chest mounts cut into wounded armor. At first he thought he'd only scored armor damage, but after a moment an explosion of sparks and rippling energy came from the emerald beams carving into the 'Mech's arm, telling Nathaniel his shot had detonated the capacitors of the Gauss Rifle within.
Firing orders came from Captain Lowenstein to Alpha Company. A Wolf Hellstar was tagged as a priority target. Nathaniel could see why upon seeing the 'Mech's PPCs firing once more. This time it was a Firehawk that endured its fury. An explosion flowered out the rear of the 'Mech's ravaged right side. Missiles from another Wolf 'Mech slammed repeatedly into the Firehawk until it collapsed amidst a cloud of pulverized concrete and black smoke from the burning lubricants and coolant of the machine's shattered fusion core.
Fire converged on the Hellstar, but the enemy pilot was highly skilled. Shot after shot missed or failed to effectively penetrate armor with how quickly the Wolf pilot maneuvered. Other machines took shots meant for the Hellstar. They're protecting that machine, Nathaniel thought. Could it be their leader? Khan Ward? Nathaniel drew in a breath. He thought of the reports, the ones that explained how Seth Ward was considered a highly skilled pilot and had extensive combat experience. And this is my first battle. It would be folly to engage him directly.
But if we do take him down, it might undermine enemy morale…
One of the Clan Jupiters turned its attention towards Nathaniel. Multiple bursts of autocannon fire tore armor from his limbs and side. Nathaniel juked his machine to the right with a tilt of the left hand throttle stick just before a pair of PPC bolts crackled through the space he'd just vacated. He focused his crosshairs on the Jupiter and stroked his weapon triggers. His left arm weapon flashed to life once more, sending its own crackling bolt of particles into the Jupiter's belly. Two of three SRM launchers confirmed locks and fired. Over half of the salvo crashed into the enemy machine, chipping away more armor. He let his heat diminish before cycling through his lasers, a choice that preserved him from overheating but saw only one of the laser beams inflict armor damage over the heart of the Jupiter.
Through this barrage, the rest of his lance focused their fire on the Jupiter. The Clan 'Mech nearly toppled before righting itself, its pilot adjusting to the loss of so many tons of armor. Where other pilots might have backed off, the enemy 'Mech refused, salvoing LRMs at Suddreth's Thor in defiance.
Ordinarily LRMs, even that many, would not be so dangerous, but just before they impacted, four PPC bolts crashed into Suddreth's machine. Two nearly ripped her 'Mech's right arm off and two more blasted away the armor protecting the right side of her machine. The LRMs that fell upon her found no armor to stop them from devastating that side of her 'Mech. The arm and its cluster autocannon was torn away and thick clouds of smoke from burning coolant spoke of the savage damage done to her engine. << "Crown Three, cover Crown Four!">> Harold cried over their shared line. He lowered his shield and fired a full salvo from all of his lasers. The Jupiter staggered from the loss of further armor, with one of the pulsing emerald beams chewing through one of the arms enough that the limb fell useless.
But the Clanner was still on his feet, and worse off, the Hellstar was clearly maneuvering to unleash its firepower on Harold. Nathaniel twisted Liberator into position and focused his crosshairs on the Hellstar. A risk I must take, he thought while waiting an extra second, both to let his heat return to ambient and to ensure the launchers got the necessary lock. They pinged red a split second before he fired. This time all three let loose, sending eighteen SRMs through the air at the Hellstar. The lasers reached the 'Mech first. Armor melted away at their emerald touch. The PPC shot struck one of the arms directly, leaving the armor plate a blackened mass in its wake. Heat flooded the cockpit of the Liberator as all his indicators closed toward the redline, drawing a stronger sensation of cold from the suit and the coolant flowing through its embedded tubes.
The missiles hit. Some were only glancing blasts that failed to do any armor damage, but he was rewarded with two of the missiles hitting the wounded arm. Their detonations tore through injured myomer and shattered metal bone. The arm in question blew free and thumped hard onto the concrete below, sending up a plume of snow.
The Hellstar turned away from Suddreth's battered Thor to face him. Nathaniel pushed the speed of Liberator to try and evade, but with Harold to one side and a looming Stormhammer just forty meters to his right there was nowhere to go. Three PPC bolts hit him square on the left side. The armor plate in that section failed spectacularly under the fury of two of the bolts while the left arm absorbed the third. The damage display informed him candidly that there was no armor protection left over the heart of his machine, just a mass of ruined metal that wouldn't resist the slightest strike. His weapons list blacked out the status of one of his left-side missile launchers; it too had been claimed by the hit. His engine remained unhurt for the moment, nor were his ammunition bins lost, but now nothing but endo-steel bone and structure protected them.
Just a few minutes. The battle had only raged for a couple minutes — or three? — and he'd already taken such a hit that his 'Mech was tactically compromised. It's all happening so fast!
Movement prompted him to twist his right hand towards the left. Myomer and bearings slid the upper half of his machine leftward, covering the wounded section to present his intact right-side armor to the autocannon shells of the enemy Jupiter now hammering home. Another Wolf machine, labeled a Night Wolf, fired a thick laser beam that carved off part of the right shoulder's armor plating and melted part of the housing for Liberator's head-mounted electronics. The armor held, thankfully, but he could feel the machine's balance tip from the changes to its weight distribution and had to wrench Liberator to one side to keep on his feet. The Night Wolf maintained its fire, with a laser slicing along the armor of Liberator's right hip and side followed by a thick beam of raw plasma. His heat spiked as the beam coated Liberator's right arm and side, scorching away the exterior armor plate until it finally fell free and cooled in the frigid air. Nathaniel noted the missile launchers that had yet to fire but which had presumably just reloaded. VCTMs by the look of them. If he hits me with a full salvo of the high yield warheads… Liberator would survive such a barrage, but it would likely compel Nathaniel to withdraw his battered machine from the Narrows.
In defiance, he fired the chest lasers and SRMs. The latter did nothing, failing to lock due to ECM interference, and the lasers caused only armor damage. Yet even as the emerald light cut into the Night Wolf's hulking frame, a storm of metal started stripping its entire left side of armor plate. Nathaniel glanced to his right and noted the hulking Atlas-like form of an Eradicator BattleMech in Lifeguard white-and-gold. All four of its rotary autocannons blazed at what must have been full speed.
The Night Wolf's arm wasn't cut off so much as mulched by the shellfire. The Clan pilot started to turn, but was too late. An explosion blossomed from their torso, so violent that the Wolf warrior within could not keep his footing. The Night Wolf toppled over onto its injured side. Nathaniel fired every weapon he could bring to bear, but it was the laser barrage of the Silver Fuller that finished penetrating the surviving armor plate over the Night Wolf's belly. A brief plume of fusion plasma came and the Clan machine fell silent, its engine core pierced and non-functional.
Nathaniel gave himself a moment to consider the battle space. The Wolves were no longer a simple reinforced battalion; more Clan forces were coming up into the Narrows, and for every Wolf 'Mech down, another had replaced it. The Lifeguards yet held. Nearly forty MechWarriors, among the very best the Armed Forces of the Royal Federation could boast, against an enemy of matching technological caliber, similar skill, and inhuman aggression, holding with their comrades in the armored vehicles and the heavy armored infantry companies, the heart of the Lyran Commonwealth at their backs.
There were more than forty five minutes ago, Nathaniel thought. The Lifeguards are the best we have and the Wolves are matching us. With their numbers… no! We have to hold!
Just a few seconds had passed. The plasma was no longer on his machine and the heat was back to acceptable levels. Pay attention! he demanded of himself. He shifted Liberator's legs, turning to keep his vulnerable left side masked from the Wolves and ready to support his lancemates. He spotted the unmoving husk of the Jupiter, fallen before Harold and the others. Harold was facing a second Jupiter off, absorbing an autocannon burst with his shield while Suddreth's Thor fired its missiles and autocannon into the assault 'Mech's exposed left flank.
And there was still the Hellstar, unloading a trio of PPC blasts into Rutgers' Mad Cat II, still intact save for its lost arm. Rutgers' machine staggered as heavy particles broke the armor plate over its reverse-jointed right knee. Myomer crackled, broke, snapped, and the entire 'Mech teetered over. The Hellstar's right arm shifted, the smoking barrel pointing towards the 'Mech's cockpit.
Nathaniel wrenched his joystick into place, watched the HUD icon go gold, and pulled the triggers.
And missed.
----
===Khan turns his Eyes to the King===
'The Triad, Tharkad City
----
A PPC bolt and lasers flashed a mere meter away from Seth Ward. He righted his Hellstar from the backstep he'd pulled it into and swung himself to face the damaged Paladin 'Mech. It is him, the Wolf Khan thought, grinning in appropriate fashion. Seeing the way the other white-and-gold 'Mechs acted to support the Paladin, and the fate of Star Captain Vickers, made it all clear.
His crosshairs settled on the Paladin and his fingers tensed. The Paladin turned just so, causing one shot to fly wide and wreck one of the buildings along the Narrows while the other two inflicted damage to the smaller 'Mech's chest and right side. Magscan results confirmed he'd broken through armor, though nothing vital was hit.
The Atlas-like machine that the Sea Fox-provided warbook data called an "Eradicator" turned its attention towards Seth, but it had no time to unleash its considerable firepower before a Tundra Wolf and Man O' War in Keshik colors engaged the machine, drawing its focus and wrecking one of its arms in the process. A second Jupiter, under Star Commander Tricia's control, was busy tearing up the Arcadian Thor while taking fire from the prone Mad Cat II and the shield-carrying "Silver Knight". There were other foes around of course, and behind them, a series of 'Mechs and vehicles firing into his forces whenever they had a clean shot. He would only have a limited time to kill the so-called "Crusader" before he was yet re-engaged.
Seth moved the Hellstar to the side just as the Paladin's left side swept his way. The maneuver threw off the Arcadian ruler's aim, causing his PPC shot to vaporize snow and ferrocrete instead of causing him any harm. His missile lock did succeed, much to Seth's irritation, peppering his 'Mech with multiple missile strikes. A damage warning lit up on one of the torso PPCs. It still functioned, but would not fire as effectively. It remains functional, I will adjust. He glowered at the white-and-gold 'Mech with the crown over the helmeted visage. Arrogant pup, little Spheroid lordling, you will now see the folly of fighting the Wolves! He re-centered his crosshairs and waited the last second for his PPCs to finish cycling. Once they went green, he pulled his triggers.
----
===The thoughts of life and death===
----
The outskirts of the Triad, Tharkad City
----
He's so fast! Nathaniel watched his PPC shot go wide and recognized his gamble had failed. The SRM launchers did acquire locks and fire, inflicting numerous wounds on the Wolf Khan's 'Mech, but did nothing to seriously diminish it. A glance at his damage indicators told him Liberator could not easily endure more than another volley from the three remaining PPCs of the Hellstar. Worse still, his lance was less than half-strength; Rutgers' Mad Cat was fallen, if still shooting, and Suddreth's Thor a blackened ruined lumping along, desperately firing its surviving left arm pulse lasers into the second Jupiter while under the protection of Harold. The battered Silver Fuller's shield was badly degraded from autocannon fire and PPC blasts; it would only take another direct shot before it would be gone.
His racing mind brought his attention back to the Hellstar. A voice from memory crackled through his mind. "Sometimes you just have to get close and take the hit." His grandmother Jacqueline had said those words to him after a sparring match in sim pods. It'd fit her style, and skill, as a MechWarrior, and it was his only hope. Nathaniel pressed the throttle forward and twisted his 'Mech to the right, bringing his left arm up and across his 'Mech's chest. The right arm extended back.
Three PPC bolts struck home. One fired low — battle damage to the emitter? — and took a chunk of the armor over his left hip and knee without penetrating. But the other bolts hit the limb directly, shoulder and lower arm. The lights on his PPC and one of his lasers flashed out an instant before the limb blew apart. His engine flashed a battle damage warning at the hit he'd just taken. Liberator's weight shifted. Nathaniel wrenched his joysticks in unison and kept the machine running forward. Five seconds or so before the PPCs cycle! I can make it!
The Hellstar stepped backward and brought its surviving arm up, the PPC barrel pointing right at him. Nathaniel had no doubt that if it fired, he would die in a blaze of particle fire. An instinctive urge to yank the joystick and shield his cockpit rushed up his arm, but his mind firmly held the limb in check. This was his only shot, it had to be made. When he moved the stick, his finger slipped over the right arm control, tying the joystick directly to the limb's movement and the weapon it held. As he reached the final meters, he pressed the stick forward and brought the right arm with it. The Hellstar shifted to his left and Nathaniel twisted his 'Mech torso to match, holding the joystick steady on its course.
The sword in Liberator's hand sliced forward in a stabbing motion that struck the one part of the Hellstar without the armor to resist it. The silvery blade punched cleanly through the ferro-glass of the Hellstar's cockpit. Crimson splashed over the surviving interior panes. The Hellstar tremored and pitched backward, to rise no more. Nathaniel glanced at the Liberator's sword and noted the tip had gone red.
I just killed a man. The thought struck him. I've taken a life. It'd been something he'd long understood, intellectually, would happen when he took the field, but he'd never felt that inevitability. Not emotionally. There was no evading it now. His chest quivered and his heart ached at it. A human life, ended, at his hands. No future, no chance to become something better. A soul, a person, was gone.
His grandmother had killed. His father had too. The rulers of House Proctor had, with one exception, been MechWarriors who saw battle and claimed lives on the field. It was just another terrible duty for them to see to in order to protect what they cherished, the people they were responsible for. Yet it still made his heart and soul ache from the weight of it all…
Liberator shrieked a hard lock warning. Nathaniel turned towards the origin of it, but he was too late. Missiles impacted all over Liberator. Engine and gyro damage warning lights flashed. The damage display showed his right arm stripped of its remaining armor by repeated heavy hits. I took a high explosive VCTM salvo he realized, too late to do anything about it. Try as he might, the gyro damage made holding Liberator to a standing position impossible. The mutilated BattleMech tipped towards its left and it was all he could do to roll and keep his eyes on his attacker.
Through the chaos of the battle, another Wolf 'Mech now approached. Nathaniel's immediate thought was its was a strange version of the Mad Cat before remembering it from the briefing materials: the Savage Wolf, a new variant of the older Clan design that mirrored the Arcadians' Mad Cat in so many ways. This one had a different color scheme from those he had been fighting, its amber and brown joined by a silver flash instead of gold, and a Wolf's head marked with the letter Beta instead of Alpha.
The pilot on the other end directed his arms towards Nathaniel's cockpit. He felt terror and swallowed. "Sorry, Mother." he murmured, knowing that he was about to die.
This vision was obscured by the appearance of another form of white and gold between Nathaniel and his attacker. Grayston! He watched as a pair of laser beams cut into the battered shield on Harold's machine, slicing away the ends in molten globs that melted snow around Silver Fuller's feet. Harold held his ground regardless, and it was his voice that crackled desperately over the Lifeguards' comm channel. <<"Protect His Majesty!">>
Get up! Nathaniel demanded, of himself and his 'Mech. He drove the sword into the snow and ferro-crete, using it for balance while the DI computer did the precise work to bring Liberator to its feet in defiance of its wounded gyro. Before him the Savage Wolf's missiles fired again, but Harold's Mech took the entire salvo. Blasts rippled over Silver Fuller's left arm and side. The armor that remained was stripped clean by the blasts. The left arm dropped uselessly to the 'Mech's side, the broken stub of the shield still attached to the forearm. Silver Fuller's right arm came up, not to cut with its surviving sword but to shield the body. PPC blasts from a Jupiter in the same silver enveloped the limb and left it a mass of burning myomer and blackened chips of armor and bone. Harold's surviving lasers claimed armor from the Jupiter, which interposed itself protectively before the Savage Wolf.
Colonel Laughlin's voice now echoed over the line. <<"Fall back, Nathaniel! Damn it all, fall back!">>
Nathaniel knew better than to dispute the commander of his bodyguards. He twisted his ravaged machine away from the fight, letting Laughlin's Fusilier and a pair of Liberator OmniMechs step forward in his place. He limped for the allied lines. I have done what I can, he thought, though it consoled him little. The Lifeguards were being pushed back regardless, and he couldn't help but feel he'd just doomed their efforts by drawing their attention to his well-being.
That was when he noted the reinforcements coming up on his scope.
----
===Hunger of the Wolf===
----
A moment before his lasers could kill the Arcadians' High King, Alaric Wolf's victory was snatched by another of the white-and-gold machines. The Black Knight-like 'Mech interposed itself and used a badly-damaged shield to deflect his laser shots, though the shield itself melted away in the process. Growling in frustration at this, Alaric turned his targeting systems to the Silver Knight, as the Sea Fox-provided profiles were calling it, and waited for the ATM launchers to finish reloading. When they did, he stroked the trigger and watched a fresh volley of the high-yield warheads pummel the interloper who'd cost him a prestigious victory. Vereena added her weapons to his, devastating the Arcadian bodyguard with PPC shots that virtually destroyed the 'Mech's right arm and side. She moved forward and took the laser shots meant for him.
Yet the opportunity was lost for the moment. Other white-and-gold 'Mechs, defying the Silver Keshik's added numbers and their position, moved forward to shield the Arcadian ruler's retreat. Alaric noted their skill with some approval. Their survivors will make for good bondsmen. Alaric turned his attention to a smaller humanoid machine marked as a Fusilier. His lasers carved the remaining armor from the machine's right arm and sent a plume of flame from the autocannon housed there. Hit the firing chamber. That weapon's useless. In defiance the medium-weight 'Mech pummelled him with SRMs and pulse laser fire. Alaric took a glance at his ATM stores and decided not to fire another volley, not for such a target. He knew Verena well enough to anticipate her. A salvo of thirty LRMs proved him right, and though almost half of them missed, his enemy was left in poor shape to press the fight.
He was about to engage the next Arcadian machine when he noted a new lance worth of contacts coming from the side of the Narrows, pressing through a shattered structure to get into the fight immediately. He turned and noted the arrival of four machines and a single squad of battlesuits. They were distinctive for their familiarity; these are designs he'd known his entire warrior life, not the machines from beyond the Arcadians used. Two were in familiar Lyran blue, one in the distinctive blue and white-striped red of the First Davion Guards, and the last -
Alaric swallowed back a guttural snarl at the sight of Julian Davion's crimson and gold Templar III. My cousin is becoming a great annoyance to me. Twice now — twice! — his intervention had stolen prey from beneath Alaric's own claws. There had to be a reckoning for that; and, Alaric found himself smiling at the thought, there was a certain poetic elegance to besting one cousin in sight of another. "The Golden Keshik shall have the honor of avenging our fallen Khan." he said over his command Star frequency and switching his tactical missiles to long-range mode. "We have other prey to deal with. Ensure that none interfere; Julian Davion is mine." The tactical missile racks sang out with positive lock, bright flashes of rocket motors strobing across his canopy panels as Alaric began.
-----
===Battle between Cousins===
-----
“Punch forward, now! Hit and run; don’t give them a chance to focus.” Julian ordered, pushing his Templar forward like a man striding through a stiff breeze as tactical missiles, burning darts of fire, burst about it. A manmade bolt of lightning and autocannon shells stabbed back, illuminating the bronze-and-silver Savage Wolf in contrasting light tones for a moment. “By Freedom’s Sword!”
(<"Sandoval conquers!">) Berry Sandoval-Steiner, laughter in her voice as her Rawhide bounded forward on bright argent flame, raking particle beam and short-range missiles across the cannon-heavy torso of the Jupiter guarding Alaric's flank. (<"Catch me if you can, Bottle Baby!">)
><"Face duChaine, face death,">< Robyn duChaine added the battle cry of her family to the howling roar of her Vulpes' autocannon, embracing an advancing Warwolf with high-explosive shells and searing laser light.
>>"Holy Mary for the Commonwealth! Freedom's home or glory's grave!"<< And Kate Rayne, setting her Barghest and Price's battlesuits into a tight defensive spread against a Gargoyle and an Elemental squad. Those snapshots were all Julian had time for as Alaric came on, and battle was joined in deadly earnest.
Blazing missile volleys, savage cannonade and the lash of high-energy beam weapons tore back and forth as, like gunfighters of the ancient West, the scions of two utterly antithetical military philosophies clashed. Alaric Wolf was the exemplar of the Crusader Wolves' belief in victory above all else, the glorification of the unrestrained warrior; Julian Davion forged and bound by the traditions of the military nobility of the Federated Suns, that how you won mattered just as much as that you did, and that the first duty of a soldier was to protect.
Alaric embraced the all-or-nothing tactics of victory or death from the outset, spending ammunition and heat budget with wild abandon as he spread shattered armour across the field. Julian met that headlong rush with solid, unshakeable discipline, scoring a line in the snow that he simply refused to yield, expending his own munitions and heat reserves with a miser’s care as he targeted Alaric's weapons, trusting to his assault machine's armour as he fought to pull the Wolf's fangs.
Man-made lightning fused and melted the twin small-calibre pulse lasers beneath Alaric's cockpit, his lasers crippling one of the Templar’s knee actuators in the same instant. Switching to autocannon and lasers, Julian pushed forward, splintered and melted away more of the Savage Wolf's armour, going for shoulder actuators or the vulnerable fusion core. 
"Last chance, Alaric," Julian ground out, scourging away another layer of protection over the Clan machine's heart. He doesn't deserve it, but I have to make the offer. "I offer you hegira, now. Take it, or leave it."
"In my hour of triumph?" Alaric laughed in response, his machine taking a hesitant step back. <<"You overrate yourself, cousin; now get out of my way!">>
 'Cousin'? What the hell does he mean by — The sheer incongruity of that threw Julian's focus, long enough for Alaric to regain his footing and hit back. High-yield tactical missiles flashed off shoulder-racks; launchers rapid-cycling, risking a detonation in the tubes. This close, there was no time for Julian to evade; just enough to grit his teeth and brace as fireballs burst across his 'Mech, striated yellow, orange and crimson racing over the damage readouts like a forest fire.
Something gave in the already-damaged knee, and Julian could feel gravity taking charge, dragging the Templar over and onto its back.
The slamming impact, even with the command couch’s supports and the heavily padded and cushioned neurohelmet set stars flaring before Julian’s eyes, and something wenched in his right shoulder. A quick flex confirmed it wasn't broken, still had full motion; it just hurt like blazes to move. His Templar was the same, wounded but not fatally; but with the damaged knee, it was going to be the work of long moments to stand back up. And, as Alaric’s Savage Wolf stalked forward, looming over him, Julian realised those were moments he didn’t have.
<<“First Thaddeus Marik, then Anastasia Kerensky, and now you. It is a pity you Spheroid champions fall so easily, or I might feel some kind of satisfaction now.”>> The sneer was plain in Alaric’s voice, as was the curiosity in the next words. <<“Well? No last defiance? No valedictory words?”>>
“Anything I could tell you, you wouldn’t understand,” Julian replied coldly. “Just get on with it and be on your way.”
<<“If you insist.”>> Alaric said, levelling one of his arm mounts.
((“I don’t think so, trash-born!”)) The familiar voice drew Julian’s eyes to his secondary cameras, quickly enough to see the Destroyer ramping off a downed Arcadian ‘Mech into a leap that brought it down close enough to intervene in time. Only the best hovertank drivers he’d known would’ve dared that kind of move, and only the very best of them could’ve pulled it off.
Callandre Kell was both.
Deftly feathering lift skirts and drive fans, she slid her Tank Destroyer across in a raking pass, twenty-foot muzzle flame tipping the long, lethal autocannon mount. Heavy-calibre shellfire ripped the Savage Wolf’s near arm off at the shoulder, and shredded one of the tactical missile racks into metallic confetti.
<<“Alaric! Warriors, to the Galaxy Commander!”>> The Jupiter turned from where it had been demolishing buildings to try and pin down the nimble Rawhide, scattering missiles across Callandre’s path and following with bursts of maximum-rate autocannon. Most missed, but enough hit or came close to turn the Tank Destroyer’s graceful arc into a spiralling tumble. It fetched up against the wall of a half-wrecked storage barn, though at least the soft “Ow” from Callandre said she wasn’t too badly hurt.
The Jupiter had no time to exploit that, nor did the rest of the Wolf force rallying around their commander’s machine. Spearheaded by a lumbering King Crab, emblazoned with House Hogarth’s silver lyre insignia and already spreading missile salvoes from its back-mounted multi-launchers across the Crusader line, fresh tanks, BattleMechs and battlesuit squads came up through the government districts Reiner Hogarth had been as good as his word, bringing a battalion and more into the fight; everything from a pair of lightweight Storm Raiders to the titanic bulk of a Destrier.
There were others, as well, Julian saw as he worked his Templar back to its feet. Roderick Steiner’s Rifleman IIC was leading in another battalion, all Steiner Strikers, and fresh Arcadian troops were showing on his tactical maps, a scratch force primarily in Arcadian Ranger colors. At their lead was a 'Mech that, even with the broader tapering of the shoulders and the sharper ferroglass panels of the cockpit, passed for a cousin design of his Templar, colored in blue, silver, and gold. A sigil over the heart of the machine — his warbook now tagged it a Templar I-A — displayed a Proctor hawk with a Steiner fist on its breast placed over a Davion sunburst. The Templar I-A fired a barrage from arm-mounted autocannons that tore Alaric's other arm away from his battered machine. (("Marshal Davion, hold tight.")) Julian recognized the voice of his cousin from another cosmos. Matthew Proctor-Steiner-Davion's next shot blew the arm off of Alaric's bodyguard in the Jupiter, the only thing that kept his salvo of high-yield ATMs from wrecking Alaric's exposed engine.
Pressing the pain of his injuries away, Julian wrenched his controls and started the process of getting his 'Mech back up. He was still alive and the fight wasn't over.
----
===The disgusting taste of defeat===
----
Alaric watched the tactical missiles blast Verena's left arm from her machine, the rest of the salvo blowing off several armor plates from the battered Jupiter's hip and side. His own warning systems shrieked with alerts from the engine damage Callandre Kell's shot had wreaked upon his machine. Heat flooded through the broken shielding on the fusion vessel and broken heat sink hardware kept his 'Mech from efficiently dumping the excess. Only one missile launcher remained for him to fight with. My 'Mech is not combat worthy, he realized, fuming at the thought. Damn that Kell and damn those reinforcements! Julian Davion's head was mine!
Alaric drew in a breath. No. Think. You are not a rabid beast, you are a Wolf Clan warrior, and the Clan needs a thinking leader with the Khan dead. He pulled his machine further back, allowing more of the Silver Keshik to shield his withdrawal with Verena holding her ground at his side, ready to intercept more fire coming towards him. He keyed his command channel. "The enemy is reinforcing the Narrows. Alert Alpha Galaxy to come to our support."
<<"It will not be possible, Galaxy Commander.">> The voice of his aide, Star Colonel Chance Vickers, betrayed frustration. <<"The Davions and Lyrans have reinforcements entering the Triad and threatening to cut you off. Our warriors fight to hold them back.">>
Alaric pondered this. "What is the status of our aerospace window?"
<<"Intact, but enemy aerospace elements are diverting towards eastern Bremen. Star Commodore Fahad estimates his remaining forces will not be able to hold it open much longer, and he insisted that I remind you that every lost Point will give the enemy greater aerospace control over the other battles.">>
Of course he did. He is careful. But not a coward. My anger is better directed elsewhere. And he was very angry. Every calculation he could make showed no outcome bringing them victory. At best, he could fight, grind the enemy down, and maybe even temporarily take, or at least level, the Palace. But it would cost him the majority of, if not all of, Alpha and Beta Galaxies. The best warriors of the Wolf Clan.
The taste of failure was sour, disgusting, as if he had just bit into filth. All of his work, all of his Clan's efforts, and it hadn't been enough. The gamble had failed. Tharkad was out of reach. The Arcadians would arrive in force and it was the Wolves who would be forced to defend their new empire. We will need every warrior. Every one of them. Further losses here are pointless! He spoke, knowing cold fury would drip from his voice. "Inform all Clusters to withdraw from combat where feasible and begin pulling back to our base camps. Tell the Star Colonels of Alpha Galaxy I am assuming command authority. They are to join me in fighting back to their DropShips. We are withdrawing from this battle."
<<"Galaxy Commander?!">>
"Obey me!" Alaric thundered. "To stay is to see our best warriors destroyed in a losing battle. We will withdraw, and those who harry us will find our fangs bite just as deadly on the retreat as in the advance!"
<<"Aff, Galaxy Commander. Aff.">>
Alaric checked over the tac map. The Silver Keshik had already commenced a fighting retreat. After about twenty seconds he noted the survivors of the Golden Keshik were doing the same. A host of frustrated, angry (("Aff!")) responses came over the command channel.
With his 'Mech a ruined mess and only a few missile salvos left to fire, Alaric projected the position of the nearest DropShip and started his way there. He would issue what commands were necessary during the trip, but unless Galaxy-level coordination was needed by the tactical position, it would be best to leave the star colonels to their duties. He would need their support, in the end, to have any hope of salvaging something for his ambitions from this setback.
And I will have to face my mother. She will be furious. He felt dread at having to deal with it and a certain thick disgust at feeling that dread and knowing it came from his lingering affection for her. He turned from that thought to his own aching sense of disappointment, letting the fury simmer within him. Victory was so close. So close. Damn my cousin and damn the Arcadians!
----
Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter
EMCOTS-2 11