“What possible reason can that serve? Why not reluctantly agree now and save yourself the damaged resources?”

But Erik only smiled at the old officer’s lack of political shrewdness, stepped back onto the Warrior’s skid and grabbed a handstrap on the side. He rapped against the ferroglass window for the pilot’s attention. Made a circling motion with his finger. Cut his hand over toward the quarry. The pilot flashed him a thumbs up and throttled the VTOL to life, leaving Stempres behind as they lifted off for the short hop to Erik’s local military compound.

And it wasn’t until they were airborne, far from Stempres’ ears, that Erik answered the legate, his words lost in the beating thunder of the H-9’s rotor blades. “When you are playing Caesar’s game,” he said, “it is always best to cement your alliances.

“Before you take advantage of them.”

Taibek Foothills

Achernar

Raul Ortega had his back to the wall in the moments before Erik Sandoval’s arrival. Or, more to the point, the Steel Wolves had forced his Legionnaire back to the Taibek’s lower foothills.

The battle had started in the Agave Dales, with the Steel Wolves caught trying to loop around River’s End to hit the industrial sector or perhaps moving further afield toward the lower dams near Vera-Stiago. Tassa Kay had chased off after a pair of Demons, stretching their line thin. Raul might have held strong if not for a pair of raiding Visigoths and a new push by conventional forces.

Culled out from the main body of his task force by a solid line of Condors backed by Hauberk battlesuit infantry, Raul managed to keep a Schmitt and a pair of Rangers with him as the Steel Wolves threw into the gap a trio of ’Mechs led by a laser-bearing Blackhawk. The Blackhawk chased after him, pulling a squad of Condors and two SM1 Tank Destroyers with it. Faced with running a deadly gauntlet at the side of the slow-moving Schmitt or trading ground for time, Raul allowed himself to be slowly driven back, waiting for Tassa Kay to fight her way free of two Pack Hunters or for the reinforcements he’d summoned from River’s End to arrive.

That was almost an hour ago.

An hour of standing up under several missile bombardments and being pushed around the Agave Dales by powerful hovercraft. An hour of hit-and-fade tactics that was finally taking its toll. His armor profile didn’t look healthy, and his ammunition supply was red-lit—down into the last half-ton of fifty-millimeter rounds. In the northern Dales Raul had traded one of his Rangers for an SM1 Destroyer—both vehicles shredded into scrap metal and left leaking fuel and the blood of their crews onto the thirsty ground. But even keeping up such tactical victories, in the end the Steel Wolf MechWarrior had more than enough force under his command to outlast Raul.

He watched the Destroyer and half of the Condors power away to the northeast, on another flanking attempt he guessed wrongly. Then an electronic crackle in his ear warned Raul of an incoming transmission. “Republic force, this is Sword-One. Can you use assistance?”

Surprised by the designation, it took Raul several long seconds to recognize Erik Sandoval’s voice. His HUD was dialed in for short-range maneuvers, searching for hidden infantry or stealthy armor, but Raul found the neutral-blue blip of Erik’s force on his long-range sensors.

“All I can get, Sword-One.” Raul’s voice cracked, whether from a lack of moisture or the galling taste of being rescued by Sandoval, he wasn’t certain. He swallowed painfully. “I have more units pulled off to the south, but can’t reach them.”

“I’ve inherited part of your problem,” Sandoval said, his voice growing more serious. “Thanks for the Destroyer! I just lost a convert.” A pause. “Look, get moving. I can hold here and pull back into the Taibeks if it gets too difficult. Go find your people.”

It was still his people and Erik’s, Raul noted, but wasn’t about to question the offer. If Sandoval wanted to play with the Blackhawk, he was welcome to it.

Raul ducked his Legionnaire under the sweeping path of a Condor’s autocannon, centered the vehicle under his crosshairs and spent a precious burst of his limited ammo into its side armor. The Steel Wolf Blackhawk wasn’t about to let Raul get into him for another tank, though, and stalked forward to threaten again with torso lasers and the Streak-equipped missile launchers mounted on either arm. The arcing warheads fell all around and over him, shaking the ground and knocking his Legionnaire with fiery punches.

“Are you trying to draw him after you?” Sandoval yelled. “I can shift his attention toward me if you get moving.”

Raul ordered the VV1 Ranger to lead the way with the Schmitt to follow, but hesitated himself. “Are you sure?”

“You are the hardest people to help,” Sandoval complained. “Go now!”

Not even the Condor hovercraft could keep up with Raul with his Legionnaire at a full run. He turned and throttled up, moving out of the Blackhawk’s reach and trailing after the Schmitt. Reaching its side, he slowed back to a walk and paced the tracked vehicle south.

“This is Ortega. Tassa, where away? We’ve picked up some help, finally.”

“I heard.” Her response came back wreathed in static likely caused by the discharge of her own PPCs. “Middle Dales. No sign of reinforcements and—damn!—I can’t shake these two loose.” She faded from the air for a moment. “They broke us into three pieces. I held out as far north as I could, hoping you would rejoin. But if you’re still up by the foothills, you are a good twenty minutes away.”

Raul measured the distance in his mind. “Ten,” he promised her. Then he ordered the VV1 to blaze a trail for the Schmitt, both of the vehicles taking a roundabout path back toward the base. He throttled up. “I’m at a run and heading your way.”

“I have a bottle if you have glasses,” Tassa said, then cursed again and turned her attention back to the fight.

A lot could happen in ten minutes. In ten seconds, even, on a live battlefield. Raul stomped his way over the rolling Dales, his cockpit swaying dangerously far to each side as he pushed the Legionnaire harder than he should for the uneven terrain. Tassa checked on his progress every few minutes, helped guide him in. Raul smelled fuel and saw smoke before he ever found the battlefield, running up on a militia Scimitar overturned and burning. From there Tassa knew exactly where he was, and bent her battle toward him to help link up faster.

Tassa Kay had one of her two Condors, a Behemoth and pair of tactical Jessies left at her side when Raul found them. She would push at the Steel Wolf force, and then the pair of Pack Hunters pushed back. The thirty-ton BattleMechs each wielded a PPC and eight General Systems micro lasers. With a top speed of one hundred twenty kilometers per hour and the full energy array, Pack Hunters were designed to harry and pursue and eventually wear down the opposition. With Shandra scout vehicles and Hauberk infantry chasing around in their specially modified Maxim carriers, it was no wonder Tassa couldn’t shake her pursuers.

Raul’s arrival gave them something else to think about. Suddenly the weight seemed to shift into the Republic’s favor.

“Are you feeling sick or something?” Tassa asked him, pulling her Ryoken even with the Legionnaire. “Lay into one of them.”

Easier said than done. Even outmatched, getting a Pack Hunter to hold still long enough for a solid lock wasn’t easy. Also, “I only have about a dozen pulls left in my rotary,” Raul admitted.

“They don’t know that. And you still have lasers. Threaten them if you can’t hurt them! Chase down the left-most Hunter. I have the other.”