"Never expected it to be anything else." Dan's voice began to fade as more frequencies were opened. "Defend your home, Hounds."

* * *

Chris Kell's Thunderboltled Alpha Battalion from its position in the west and out into the sunlight. He had the northwestern flank of the Kell Hound position, his battalion serving as a screening force to pick up the bandit unit near the foothills. Chris knew the Red Corsair had grounded a force there to defend against troops coming down from Old Connaught, which was the most logical location for reinforcements.

As his troops moved out, Chris saw the battle plan that Phelan and Dan had outlined beginning to unfold. The foothill group of bandits, designated the Sidhe, began to withdraw into the hills. The other group, the Baile, moved into Denton. Though it looked as though the Sidhe were abandoning the Baile, to make their way across the plain north of Denton and into the town, or out of it, would have meant marching across a killzone and the death of the bandits making the trip.

Chris opened a radio channel to Dan Allard. "Colonel, the Sidhe are into the hills. Alpha is in position and awaiting your order to pursue."

"Roger, Major. Stand by."

Chris saw a long line of the red and black Kell Hounds 'Mechs form a semicircle around Denton to the south and west. The BattleMechs to the south, with a star of black 'Mechs from the Wolf Clan at the far end, began to move forward. In Denton, the scarlet and gold bandit 'Mechs spread out and assumed defensive positions that promised nasty urban fighting.

"Alpha Leader?"

Chris nodded. "Yes, Colonel?"

"Go. The Sidhe are yours."

* * *

Caitlin pulled back on her stick and pointed the Stingray'snose at the sky. She punched her feet down on the overthrust pedals and felt gravity pull her down into the command couch as she rocketed away from Arc-Royal. The keening sound in her cockpit told her the maneuver had not shaken her pursuit, and as she dropped her crosshairs into her aft arc, she saw the range between them dropping off.

Damned Hellcat can out-climb me. Still, it's a flying wing. Yaw has to be a problem!"Raven Leader, I have a Hellcatin my six. Who wants him?"

"I will oblige you."

Caitlin smiled as she heard Carew answer her call. "Okay, he's yours!" She jammed her stick forward in a maneuver that started her in a loop that put her cockpit on the outside of the circle. She began to see red as the forces of gravity rushed blood to her head. She knew, as did every pilot who had ever flown, that the loop she had started was slow and stupid and almost guaranteed to make the pilot "red-out."

Before she could lose consciousness, she cranked the Stingrayaround in a tight roll centered on the left wing-tip. Pulling up on the stick, she regained some altitude and managed to flash past the nose of the Hellcat.Twin green laser beams passed through a point on her six, but they missed her by a hundred meters.

"Get him, Vulture Leader." Caitlin popped her Stingrayinto another roll and lined a Tridentup in her sights.

* * *

"Wilco, Raven Leader," Carew growled as he pulled his Visigothup into a steep climb. His aerospace fighter had nowhere near the power of the Hellcat,or the Stingray,for that matter, but it packed more weaponry than either of them. Closer in shape to the flying wing design of the Hellcatthan the Stingray,the dual rear stabilizers and the elongated weapon pods running parallel to and in front of the fuselage eliminated the faster fighter's yaw problem.

The Clan pilot watched the Hellcat'snose begin to dip. as the Stingraywent into the negative-G loop. He smiled as she inverted and shot back up in a teardrop loop above the Hellcat'snose. The Cat'spilot rolled to get back on Caitlin's tail, and started a long dive to pick up air speed. When he saw Carew, he punched his overthrusters, sending long flame jets out the back of the Hellcat'stail.

In his panic, the Hellcatpilot hit one pedal a second before the other, giving the fighter's engine a momentary burst of energy before the other engine kicked in. In most aerospace fighters this would have resulted in the start of a power turn, but in the Hellcatit created another problem. The leading edge of the right wing began to inch forward as the fighter started a rotation around its vertical axis.

It took a second or two to correct, and in that time Carew rolled his Visigothin right behind the Hellcat.When Carew punched his thumb down on the stick's firing stud, the nose-mounted particle projection cannon loosed a bolt of synthetic lightning that chopped into the Hellcat'sleft wing and nibbled away at the vertical stabilizer. As Carew also hit the missile launcher, the Hellcatjuked to the left, pulling the wing out of harm's way.

Thirty LRMs streaked from the Visigothand peppered the Hellcat'sfuselage. Carew saw two green-gray clouds from missile clusters that told him heat sinks had been destroyed. One set of missiles had pulverized thrust vector nozzles while another three LRMs had blasted away at the armor over the engine. None of the hits were fatal in themselves, but taken as a whole, they doomed the Hellcat.

The flying wing, unable to use the port thrust vectors, remained flying straight and level for what must have seemed an eternity to the pilot. Carew, riding close behind the craft, felt time slipping away incredibly fast, but his heat monitor showed the Visigoth'stemperature dropping back to normal ranges, so he fired again.

The PPC's blue lightning raked through the armor over the fuselage, and another heat sink exploded in a spray of greenish liquid. A pulse laser lanced red darts into the engine cowling and another blew more armor from the fuselage, again destroying thrust vector nozzles.

Carew glanced at his secondary display. The Hellcathad lost three of its fifteen heat sinks. The armor on the fuselage had been damaged but not breached. The pilot had to want to disengage, but his thruster damage prevented that and the loss of his heat sinks meant overthrusting would make him overheat. Still, the fighter was operational and—as the laser from the after turret reminded Carew—it was still dangerous.

How much damage will you take before you die ?Carew dropped the crosshairs on the plane's outline. And how long before one of your comrades scrapes me off your tail?

* * *

Phelan hit his radio as he brought his Star up at the extreme edge of what was likely to be the bandit's range. "Ragnar, we have to let them know we are serious. We need an example. Try the DropShip."

"As you will it, my Khan."

Phelan's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the OverlordDropShip sitting on the pristine ferrocrete of the landing pad. A reality of warfare in the thirty-first century was that it had become incalculably expensive. Over the previous three hundred years the Inner Sphere had managed to all but blow itself back into the Stone Age. Recovery of a memory core from the Star League era had begun a renaissance that brought with it more factories to produce the materiel of war, but most BattleMechs were still being cobbled together from bits and pieces salvaged after battles.

The Kell Hounds had been rebuilt after the battle for Luthien from just such salvage. The bandits would be stopped, but if the Hounds could convince them to surrender before their machines were destroyed, not only would it save lives on both sides, it would also enrich the mercenaries above and beyond the compensation promised by Victor Davion.