“No more,” he whispered.

One of his PPCs gashed wide the Tundra Wolf’s chest. Flames licked out and up the broad torso, wreathed the cockpit shield in a halo of fire.

Slapping at the shutdown override, Raul stomped to a halt bare meters from the staggered Tundra Wolf. No other part of the battle registered, HUD forgotten. Nothing mattered but the ’Mech and MechWarrior in front of him. Stretching his arms forward, Raul set the autocannon barrels up against the chest of the Tundra Wolf. “Stand down, Star Colonel.” It was over, and Raul breathed a quick exhale of relief. There was no compromise left in his voice, only a promise. Torrent surely heard it.

Heard it, but did not care.

The Steel Wolf commander, reaching for the brass ring right up until the end, shifted the Tundra Wolf’s left arm over, planted it into the Jupiter’s gut, and destroyed his own arm by firing his tactical missile system with the launcher in actual contact against Raul’s gyroscope housing.

The force of nine simultaneous detonations squeezed in between two BattleMechs actually lifted the hundred-ton assault ’Mech off the ground. No balancing act would save Raul from gravity’s clutches this time. Hauling back on both control sticks, fingers tight on his triggers, Raul surrendered to the fall while pumping two hot streams of high-velocity metal into the Tundra Wolf’s chest.

The fall likely saved Raul’s life.

With feedback damage already spiking through the Tundra Wolf’s power systems, Raul’s fifty-millimeter autocannons tore through the last of the physical shielding and blasted apart the fusion engine’s safeguard systems as well. Dampening fields cut out completely, releasing the fires that burned so powerfully at the heart of every BattleMech.

The fusion reaction expanded, gobbled up myomer, armor, and titanium skeletal structure as fuel. A column of golden fire burned up and through the cockpit. Then the engine burst free completely in a violent explosion of golden fire, flattening a nearby LoaderMech, picking up a Scimitar and throwing it through the air like a child’s plaything.

The force grabbed at Raul’s Jupiter, twisted it about on the ground, but otherwise washed over it in a wave of destructive fire that did little more than finish flash-burning the paint from Jove’s front.

Then silence descended.

Silence, or Raul had gone deaf with the titanic thunderclap. Inventorying his limbs and checking his teeth with a rough-coated tongue, the MechWarrior rolled his ’Mech onto its side and then to its chest, propping himself up with one arm to better see the stunned field.

And looked into the wide-bore port of an SM1’s assault cannon.

The battle did continue in several isolated patches. The Swordsworn still fought a holding action at the city’s edge, protecting themselves from a small cordon of Steel Wolf treaded tanks and advancing infantry. Palos Montgomery and a trio of LoaderMechs shuffled into a loose circle around a Demon, hydraulic pincers grabbing and tearing. Diago was still alive and fighting as well, matching off in the distance with a Steel Wolf catapult.

But near Raul and the metal carcass that had been the Steel Wolf commander’s BattleMech, everyone waited to see what would happen now between the Jupiter and the Destroyer.

“If you are going to shoot,” Raul croaked, his voice breaking on almost every word, “do it now or quit wasting my time.”

Several painful heartbeats passed before an answer came. “I am Star Captain Nikola Demos. I claim you as bondsman.”

“No,” Raul told her, shocked that she would even think of such a thing after losing her commander. “You’ve won nothing here.”

“The Steel Wolves… my… my Steel Wolves still control the spaceport.”

“Keep it,” Raul told her. “Run the damn thing if you want. But there will be no occupation of River’s End and there is no HPG station to fight over any longer.” He coughed, trying to ease the burning itch at the back of his throat. “Pick up your dead and injured, and allow us to do the same, and tomorrow we can do this all over again or maybe—maybe—we can bargain for an honorable withdrawal.”

Remembering how Tassa Kay and Kyle Powers had both argued for the important part such concerns played in Steel Wolf reasoning, he figured it couldn’t hurt to appeal to her warrior’s nature. “Or do you really want Star Colonel Torrent’s cast-offs?” he asked derisively, with all the strength he had left.

Raul never heard the order passed but, first singly and then in large packs, the Steel Wolves broke away from the fighting and fell back toward their waiting DropShips. Blaire ordered all retreating forces to be left alone. On the far side of the field, Erik Sandoval knew enough to also let the Steel Wolves withdraw.

“We will consider our position,” the SM1 commander told him. “Tomorrow we bargain.”

Then the Destroyer spun around in place and raced away, cutting close to several IndustrialMechs but never targeting them, unafraid that they would dare touch her.

“Tomorrow we bargain,” Raul agreed, but with less enthusiasm than before. With adrenaline bleeding away along with his life’s blood, a heavy weariness crept up. Rolling the injured BattleMech onto its back again, Raul stretched it out in the best possible posture for loading. “I could use a recovery vehicle here,” he said, closing his eyes.

In the darkness, he felt his shoulder throb. “And a medic.”

Lying back into his seat, he let exhaustion claim him.

M.A.S.H. Truck Bravo-Four

Achernar

18 March 3133

Raul fought his way back to consciousness through dark cobwebs, peeling away one sticky layer at a time. Bit by bit, he remembered the battle.

Tassa Kay’s fighting retreat and eventual dodge back into the city.

Star Colonel Torrent’s death in a blazing, acrid pyre.

The dark exhaustion that had claimed him.

Trying to coax some life back into his body, Raul focused all his strength into one arm, lifting it to his face where he hoped to rub the last of the cobwebs from his eyes. Someone caught his hand, held it. A warm, soft touch.

“Jessica?” Was that too much to hope for? In his waking state, Raul did not want to believe so.

“Is it over?” Jessica Searcy asked.

The battle. The fighting. Raul had no doubt that that was what she meant.

“I think so. I hope so.” But because he had learned more in the last few weeks than he had ever wanted to with regard to war, he told her, “For now.”

He forced his gummy eyes open. Jess sat beside his wall-mounted cot, still wearing the paramilitary uniform, although now it was spattered with blood and smudged dark in several places.

“I told you to stay safe,” she said.

He blinked, then glanced down at his bare chest and heavily bandaged shoulder. “Just a small scar,” he reminded her. He had a double I.V. stuck into his arm, slowly rebuilding his fluid and blood loss. He started to rise, but felt too tired to put much effort into it and so slowly settled back. “Just for you.”

“Get some sleep, Raul.” Already her voice sounded distant. “You’ve earned a rest.”

He shook his head. “Not today. Not yet. One more thing to do, Jess.” He closed his eyes. “Then we’ll see.” See about the two of them. That was what he’d meant to say. Had he said it?

She seemed to know, regardless.

“Is it over?” she asked. And he knew what she meant as well.

“I hope not, Jess. I hope not.”

And he drifted back off, his hand still warm in hers.