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5


Bernhard Island

Kervil, Prefecture II

22 October 3134


Jonah Levin wished he could pace, but the cramped space of the Waverley’s deep hold left him no room. He sat tight, waiting completely out of the pirates’ sight. He hoped to be a very unpleasant surprise when the time came, but until then he could do nothing but wait.

If he had his way, battles would begin the moment they became inevitable. There would be no waiting, no buildup, no time-consuming travel. The two sides would appear instantly on the battlefield and open fire.

He checked his chronometer. The time was getting closer, though seconds ticked like minutes. So far, the operation was on schedule.

The comm crackled. “Time to see if anyone’s home,” said Lieutenant Smith of Kervil Marine Law Enforcement. “Circles to lines on my command.”

Jonah waited for the command, his ’Mech echoing the forward lean of his body.

“Execute,” Smith said.

Jonah exhaled. There wasn’t anything for him to do yet, but at least something was happening.

The boat group, which had been circling near the island shore, straightened into lines running parallel to the beach. Unless the pirates were blind or lax, they knew what was coming and were preparing their response. Jonah glanced at his secondary screen, displaying a feed from a boat-top camera. The coast was silent and looked empty, but offered plenty of dense foliage to hide the hostile guard.

“Turn course zero-one-seven, again, zero-one-seven,” Smith said over the comm. “Speed at five knots.”

The boats turned, three lines starting a curve toward the shore. Infantry would land first, then artillery, then missile tanks. If Jonah did his job, most of them would make it onto the shore alive.

Flashes like fireworks sparked across the coastline, followed brief seconds later by dim reports. Missiles arced into the sky, closing on their targets.

“Hold fire. Don’t let them startle you,” Smith cautioned, but it wasn’t necessary. The pirates had fired early and their missiles fell short, vanishing in white sprays and exploding columns of water.

“Gentlemen, let’s get wet,” Smith said, and the first wave dove into the water churned up by the pirate missiles. More missiles fired, most still missing their marks, but a few denting hulls in the first line of boats.

“They’re starting to feel cocky,” warned Brigham, captain of one of the forward boats.

“All right, let ’em know we see ’em. Area fire!”

Jonah reached for his trigger reflexively, but it was still too early.

Greenery along the shore exploded into black-and-brown clouds. Tree trunks shredded, their broad tops falling onto the rocky shore.

The pirates weren’t deterred, and sent a more intense wave of fire. Jonah watched columns rise around him like geysers, strangely beautiful in their way.

Finally, Smith came through with a message meant only for him.

“One minute to position, Paladin. Flood the hold.”

“Copy that,” Jonah said, trying to hide the relief in his voice. The crewman disconnected his ’Mech and scurried out of the hold, sealing the watertight doors. Water flooded in as Jonah waited for sixty seconds to pass.

“In position now. Release.”

The door beneath Jonah opened, and he fell quickly into the dark sea. He flicked on beams to help him navigate to shore.

Soon the feet of his Atlas touched sand. Walking underwater was only slightly faster than moving through quicksand, but at least he was pushing ahead. Above him, the incoming attack waves would continue their arc toward land while he made a beeline for the shore. If the timing was right, they’d arrive on the beach at the same time.

He checked his secondary screen to follow the progress of the battle above, but between the poor signal and the sprays of water above, he couldn’t make out anything. He flicked it off and waited for Smith’s commands to tell him what he needed to know about the fight.

“First wave, report. Looks like you lost one.”

“Yes, sir,” Brigham crackled back. “One ship hit and entirely lost. Others proceeding apace.”

“Second?”

“We’ve had a breakdown, one boat out and heading away. No hits from the hostiles.”

Smith didn’t bother asking about the third, which was still out of range.

“All right, fill the gaps. Keep the pressure on.”

“Yes, sir,” came the replies, and Jonah added his own assent as he slogged through the water. The pirates could have no idea what kind of pressure they were about to feel.

The surface of the water drew closer to his ’Mech’s head. He could see waves passing, though not yet breaking. Missiles and shells skipped overhead, some from in front of him, some from behind, echoing through the sea like a sounding dolphin. Jonah slowed his ’Mech further, making his machine squat as it practically walked on its knees. It wouldn’t do for his head to stick out too soon—it would just make an inviting target, and it would ruin the surprise.

Smith spoke again. “Wave one, prepare to launch; wave two, hold your fire. Launch on my mark… execute! Nail it down!”

Jonah thought he could hear the jump jets of the armored infantry firing, though that might have been his imagination or the blood in his ears. Either way, his time had come.

He came out of the water and stood outlined against the churning sea, the saltwater streaming off the carapace of the ’Mech.

Off to his right, he could see the power discharges of lasers and pulse cannon. In a moment the defenders would notice him—which was the plan. Moving into their gut, he’d draw and return fire, allowing the landing wave to get into position and, hopefully, maneuver around the sides of the pirates’ forces. He pushed forward hard and the ’Mech surged ahead.

A scout vehicle with a rear-mounted heavy machine gun burst through the vegetation ahead of the Atlas BattleMech. Jonah didn’t recognize its markings. The vehicle turned and its gunner opened fire, hosing down Jonah’s Atlas with fifty-caliber armor-piercing rounds. They had no effect on the ’Mech.

“No, you don’t,” Jonah said. He leaned on the throttle, kicking the speed of the Atlas up a step, closing on the scout vehicle. A quick push on the left pedal while easing on the right sent the ’Mech’s leg into a kick, pummeling the scout vehicle. It flipped over on its side, one wheel hanging at an angle that told Jonah the axle had broken. He then brought the ’Mech’s foot down heavily on the machine gun.

The wrecked vehicle, and its scattering troopers, weren’t worth any expense of ammunition. Jonah headed straight in from the beach, turning his Atlas toward the area marked on his heads-up display as the location of the pirates’ headquarters.

Someone in that area was broadcasting at high power over multiple frequencies. Jonah couldn’t make out what was being said—the broadcasters had good crypto, whoever they were—but he figured that taking out command and control would be a fine way to start the morning. He vectored in on the transmission site and pushed the Atlas into an earth-shaking run.

The beach continued to explode with fire from both directions, rocks and dirt pattered across his side, and his footing kept slipping as the impact of the artillery altered the landscape beneath him.

He felt calmer than he had all day.


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