“Sir, do we pursue?”

Viktor turned his Zeus in place, shuffle stepping around the ruined Regulator and leaning out of the worst of the smoke. He tasted the acrid bite of burning fuel, and knew then that his own cockpit had been breached. The swarming Achileus troopers had come closer than he’d thought. A trigger’s pull away from losing his life.

“Sir, do we—”

“We do not,” Ruskoff said, cutting off his sergeant. Not today.

Farther south, McCarron’s remaining VTOLs swarmed back together, giving Ruskoff an idea about where the Armored Cavalry commander had slipped away. The Capellan officer would quickly rendezvous with his remaining forces, and might arrange a counterthrust. The very real fact was that McCarron had somehow summoned superior firepower both here and, from the sounds of it, back at the convoy, too.

“No. We’ve made the Cavalry earn their pay today, and that’s good enough. We need to pull back to the west and try to hit the convoy’s trail.” He toggled for a secure line to Major Demmens, then switched back away from the wash of static. “See what pieces are left to pick up.” But he knew, he knew.

Not many.

Not for the first time Legate Viktor Ruskoff wondered if anyone—Prefect Shun Tao and himself included—truly appreciated the local threat to Liao.

Paragon Thruway

Paragon Province, Liao

10 July 3134

With its vanguard under attack by McCarron’s Armored Cavalry, the convoy ran full speed for Qinghai Province. Right into the ambush set by Evan Kurst and Mai Uhn Wa. Ten minutes turned the Paragon Thruway into a haze-shrouded battlefield. Missiles arced and fell along the six-lane highway. Lasers splashed back and forth, jewel-toned darts and spears that flashed briefly and were gone. Armor fractured, splintered, melted and dripped smoking, black-husked coals onto the road and the hillsides of the Methow Narrows.

Sweat tickled Evan’s brow as he ducked over his controls. Bending his Ti Ts’ang at the waist, he hunched under a militia Legionnaire’s long stream of autocannon fire. Tail-end bullets scored and pitted his armor. He backpedaled onto the highway’s cinder-strewn shoulder, firing all the way, then turned his weapons against a nearby Giggins APC. A blistering salvo of lasers silenced the APC’s machine guns. His hatchet rose and fell, rose and fell, sheering through the forward wheelbase.

Two APCs down. The first had fishtailed through a minefield laid out by David Parks and his Fa Shih comrades. Both had dumped full loads of Cavalier battle armor, and the remaining infantry pressed forward in the Legionnaire’s shadow.

Regrouping. Not what Evan wanted to see.

“We need backup,” he demanded. They needed something.

The pro-Capellan force had been thrown together at the last minute, mixing Conservatory cadets among Ijori Dè Guāng irregulars and resources begged from the Armored Cavalry. Barely enough to get the job done. Two JES II strategic carriers and a modified ForestryMech held the Narrow’s gap, stalling the long column, while Evan pressed in from the front. Ijori Dè Guāng irregulars, armed with nothing more than rifles and a great deal of courage, converged on the convoy from both wooded slopes. They mixed among Fa Shih troopers and a few Saxon APCs. A mixed unit of hoverbikes and minigun cycles attacked from behind.

Two Jousts lay overturned and burning, victims of The Republic forces that jealously guarded the convoy.

Most of The Republic troops were militia forces: the Legionnaire, Cavalier infantry, and a squad of Pegasus hovercraft. A Thunderbolt added supporting fire, painted the same colors as the SM1 Destroyer and Elemental infantry making up the convoy’s rear guard.

White and gold.

Fifth Principes Guards.

Evan pushed forward across the blacktop. The BattleMech’s feet crushed through the thin surface, leaving behind cracked footprints. He swerved around a small pileup of civilian vehicles. The Legionnaire advanced a few more steps, trading another long burst of autocannon fire against Evan’s lasers. The Ti Ts’ang shook under hammering blows.

“Help is on the way,” Mai Wa finally promised.

Evan checked his rearward monitor. The ForestryMech slowly dismantled a militia Pegasus, using its diamond-toothed saw to hack off large chunks of engine cowling. A hundred meters behind it, the JES II carriers disappeared behind a curtain of gray exhaust as they spread scores of missiles into the air.

A firestorm erupted around the Legionnaire as the missiles rained overhead. Still, the fifty-ton machine trudged forward, shrugging off the damage. The Thunderbolt turned toward the rear of the stalled convoy, lending its own missiles and a deadly laser to the Destroyer’s aid.

“They’re splitting!” Evan could hardly believe it, even though Mai Wa had assured him. Militia and Republic regulars weren’t prepared to fight as a unit.

Then again, neither were the various pro-Capellan factions.

“I’m on him,” David Parks called, voice trembling as he leapt his Fa Shih battlesuit into a short arc. He dropped nearer the Thunderbolt than anyone should get.

Another student followed, as did a ragged squad of Ijori Dè Guāng infantry.

“Get out of there, David. Infantry fall back. We want them to separate.”

Too late. The Principes Guardsman raised a massive foot and brought it down on one of the Fa Shih. Missiles slammed around the remaining infantry, geysered scorched dirt and asphalt into the air, along with whole bodies and parts.

Evan never had time to see if his friend had been the one pulverized under the Thunderbolt’s foot or, if he hadn’t, then escaped death by missile fire. Smoke curled around the entire area, his HUD was a tangled mess of icons and threats, and that was when the Legionnaire opened up into his back.

Nearly as fast as a Pack Hunter, the fifty-two-ton ’Mech sprinted forward to slip into Evan’s rear quarter. A long pull of autocannon fire walked over Evan’s left hip and pounded into the thin armor protecting his back, chewing through, pitting supports and clawing at the massive gyroscope. His cockpit shook violently and the Ti Ts’ang pitched forward. It sprawled into the blacktop, plowing up a small pile of debris.

Another hail of hot metal spanged into his armor, but failed to do more than chip away fresh composite. Evan shook his head clear, fought the sixty-ton BattleMech back to its feet.

“Sa-bing Presci,” Mai Wa ordered very cordially, “at your convenience. Minus seventy meters.”

Mai Wa was early! Evan punched a hot button, transferring to a general frequency. His parched throat ached as he dry swallowed life back into his voice. “Hoverbikes and infantry, break and run now, now, now!”

The pro-Capellan force turned and ran for the wooded slopes. Only a pair of hoverbikes remained, crowding the Destroyer to push it into a tangle of convoy trucks. The Destroyer’s autocannon spit fire and metal into one hoverbike’s engine. It erupted into a fireball that threw the entire machine over the Thruway’s wide shoulder and into the base of the valley slope.