Long-range missiles and a few light autocannon sniped at the patrol, but the Destroyers weren’t foolish enough to close with a combined-arms company. A pair of McCarron’s Balacs chased off the strike ’copters, and Evan’s force shook out into a ragged line to pursue.

“Don’t wait for us,” Jenna said, bringing up the rear in her ForestryMech accompanied by a few slower assault tanks. “Sixth squad, on my lead. We’re pulling for the headlands.” She veered off.

If Jenna could clear two shallow rivers and a small swamp, she could shortcut over some drier land and act as a safety force toward which Evan and his abbreviated company could run.

“Watch your back,” Evan told her, but his mind already looked toward his flanking strike against Ruskoff’s column.

He barely heard her say, “You do the same.”

Jenna’s force broke away, following a ridge of mostly dry high ground. Evan let her go with a small twinge of concern that he quickly buried. There was still plenty left for him to worry about, after all. Including what they could do if the Dynasty Guard did not show. There had to be something. He just didn’t see it yet.

Suriwong Floods

Sarrin Province, Liao

15 August 3134

Artillery fire tore up the Floods around Evan Kurst, geysering up water and fire, muck and smoke. An oily haze churned across the low-lying hummocks. A downed Balac Strike VTOL burned on an island of cottonwood and willows—black soot and gray ash swirled together in the air. Missiles rose and fell in their sharp, violent arcs, and the hard light of laserfire slashed back and forth between BattleMechs, armored vehicles and infantry.

Evan’s forward probe hadn’t split The Republic force, they’d turned it. Legate Ruskoff wheeled around to throw everything at them, and Evan’s small company was forced far back from the main Capellan line. The Legate first thought they were the Dynasty Guard. Mai’s command vehicle unscrambled a few intercepts to that effect, including one broken transmission that the House Master played for Evan.

“Legate, I… these vehicles. That Tian-zong. Conservatory forces! Ijori… come out of Chang-an.”

Evan recognized the voice instantly. He’d never forget it. Daniel Peterson was fighting on the field!

The only ’Mech engaged near House Ijori’s Tian-zong was a Triarii-painted Tundra Wolf. Evan circled around on its position, weathering a storm of missiles and laserfire to challenge the Betrayer. His Ti Ts’ang’s heat-accelerated myomer allowed him to close, hacking large chunks of armor away from Peterson’s chest and side.

But the disgraced veteran was not without some support. A Principes armor company led forward by the on-planet Knight—Lady Eve Kincaid—came to Peterson’s rescue and drove back the Ijori forces. Her Mad Cat III savaged two of Evan’s Condors. A pack of hoverbikes peppered his Ti Ts’ang with laserfire, chasing Evan back toward safety.

Triarii and militia squads piled up to the west. The Knight and fallen Paladin held the north. Eva’s position looked desperate. Then fate intervened in the voice of an Armored Cavalry scout patrolling far to the northeast.

“The Dynasty Guard! They’re deploying out of the hills!”

More welcome words Evan had not heard. The Republic force got the news at nearly the same time, apparently, with Lady Kincaid splitting away for a hard run northwest. She drew several hovercraft with her.

Evan pulled his crosshairs over the Tundra Wolf, preparing another charge. He sparred against the Tundra Wolf’s heavier weapons, trying to hold Peterson’s attention as the Ijori Tian-zong slogged forward with a squad of Regulator II heavy tanks.

“All nearby units, this is Ijori-five.” Jenna! “Praetorian is under assault. We need backup. Home in on transponder three-eight-one.”

Tori Yngstrom moved up on his position. Her Tian-zong belted out Gauss slugs from each arm. “We can hold here, push them back toward the Dynasty Guard. Get to Shiao Mai!”

Evan was the logical choice, his Ti Ts’ang was the faster ’Mech. He had walked away from Peterson in Chang-an, and that had been one of the hardest decisions of his life. This time, there was no choice to make. His House Master needed him.

Evan pulled back, grabbing a Destroyer and two nearby Condors, as well as a loaded Maxim APC arriving from the south. “Three-eight-one,” he ordered his new ad hoc unit. On the command frequency, he broadcast, “Ijori-one, en route.”

Six kilometers struggling through marshes and muddy rivers cost Evan nearly ten minutes as he homed in on the mobile HQ’s directional beacon. He learned on the way that it was Ruskoff’s Zeus pushing forward to trap Mai Uhn Wa in an encirclement. Jenna opened a door, her ForestryMech dicing up a pair of Joust crawlers. The Praetorian escaped with armor and infantry assets to make rendezvous with Evan’s force.

Not soon enough. The Zeus followed and caught up with the fleeing command unit, called in artillery fire to pin it down. Evan listened in on the battlefield chatter coming from just ahead. He ran his Ti Ts’ang up a steep rise that thrust out of the swampy flatlands, cleared its summit and then leapt far out over the Suriwong Floods.

Jenna’s ForestryMech was nowhere to be seen. Mai Wa’s Praetorian struggled along a spine of rock and clay, protected by a Locust, some Armored Cavalry, and two wheeled APCs dumping out Purifier troopers and Ijori irregulars.

Still airborne, Evan identified a Zeus and a Pack Hunter leading forward a mixed bag of Republic armor and infantry. More threat icons gathered on his HUD’s horizon.

He came down into a shallow river, splashing up great sheets of water and sinking the BattleMech’s feet meters into soft, grabbing clay. Stuck. His arrival threw back the Zeus, which turned away reluctantly like a snarling beast deprived of its prey. One PPC snaked manmade lightning across the stirred Floods, ripping a long, jagged gash up the side of Evan’s Ti Ts’ang. Gray-green heat sink coolant spurted out of the wound like arterial blood.

A squad of Triarii Scimitars swept in to harass him with missiles. Fire blossomed along both legs as Evan worked his feet loose from the muck. He walked his Ti Ts’ang up onto a rocky bar and set himself in a wide-legged stance. His hovercraft and the HQ’s remaining defenders flocked to Evan’s side, driving back the Scimitars.

“Wedge formation,” Evan ordered, buying time for his House Master. Artillery fire continued to hammer down behind them, walking in closer with every round. “Cavalry, double up on my left. Ijori, thin ranks and envelop on my right.”

A risky call. Evan had little more than a reinforced company to work with. McCarron’s soldiers made for a good anchor on his western flank, but thinning the rest to the east was chancy. They weren’t veterans. They were hardly more than cadets.

They certainly were not an elite Warrior House. Not yet.

“Ijori-five. Jenna. Can you rendezvous?”

Silence answered him and a push by the Zeus occupied him for a moment. Fire and shrapnel swept the center of his line in alternating waves. Evan’s BattleMech dropped to one knee under the barrage, but it stood again.