Erik spotted a pair of big Ryoken IIs lining up on another tower. He was outmatched, but he might be able to draw their attention. He charged past them, lasers and autocannon firing. He swung the hatchet and managed to wing one of them. It barely scraped the armor, but it made enough noise to wake them up.

“Now I’ve done it,” he muttered as he zigzagged, trying to throw off their fire. The ’Mechs were bigger, better-armed, and faster than he was. His only advantage now was that he was already moving full speed, and they had to accelerate to catch up.

Autocannon fire streamed past his canopy and began peeling off his rear armor. His damage displays flickered to yellow, and then red. Just ahead he spotted what he’d been looking for, the ramp leading down into one of the big ’Mech tunnels. “This is Sandoval. I’m headed into Portal Five with company! Two, heavy!”

He skidded the Hatchetman around the corner and down the ramp into the dark opening below.

The bigger ’Mechs had to slow to take the turn, giving him a greater lead. He switched to infrared, hoping that his pursuers would be slower to do so. In the close quarters, they’d be reluctant to use most of their weaponry, though that wouldn’t be a problem if they caught him. Even his hatchet wouldn’t be enough to save him.

He raced past a row of deep alcoves in the tunnel walls, then put the brakes on, sliding his ’Mech to a stop and turning. The Ryoken s slowed as well, suddenly wary.

As they should have been.

From the alcoves burst a veritable swarm of DrillingMechs and PipelineMechs, welders arcing, claws poised to snap, diamond drills flashing. One of the little ’Mechs was quickly swatted aside, and another blasted apart by point-blank autocannon fire, but the Liao ’Mechs were already taking damage, being dragged down. Erik carefully targeted the closer of the two Ryokens, centering the cockpit in his crosshairs and giving it everything he had.

Weapons flashed with blinding brilliance in the dark tunnel. Erik saw the Ryoken’s canopy begin to crack. He charged in and brought his hatchet down with all the force he could. There was a satisfying “crunch” as the blade collapsed the canopy and sank deep into the ’Mech’s torso.

He turned to the second enemy ’Mech, just in time to see a diamond drill sink deep into its gyro housing. The resulting explosion ripped the drill arm of the IndustrialMech, but the mortally wounded Goliath collapsed and lay twitching on the tunnel floor.

Erik called his congratulations to the IndustrialMech pilots, but he was already running for the next ramp to the surface.

“Commander!” Sortek’s voice sounded high and stressed. “We’ve lost Towers One and Three! We’re losing ground up here—we’ve lost three of nine towers.”

In theory, any three towers could still protect the base. In theory. In any case, at this rate they wouldn’t have three for very long. Even one might offer some protection, but the forces waiting to drop down from orbit were overwhelming. “When’s the next reentry window?”

“That cluster of four has a window in three minutes and—”

Erik’s Hatchetman emerged from the tunnel just in time to see the top of Tower Two explode.

He began running toward Tower Eight. “Concentrate on defending the remaining towers! We’ve got to hold them for at least three more minutes!”

The fighting was furious, and it seemed to be going on everywhere at once. Though Erik didn’t notice anyone targeting him, he was repeatedly splashed by stray fire, ripping at the armor of his already battered ’Mech.

His autocannon were empty, and warning lights indicated his lasers were having problems. He didn’t have to look at the indicators to know that heat was building up. He could feel it in the cockpit, in the sweat that soaked his body and dripped down his face.

Three minutes! Less now! They might make it!

To his right, SwordSworn troops in battle armor swarmed over a stricken Catapult. To his left, an attacking Mad Cat III blasted away at a Legionnaire, its gun either jammed or out of ammo. Erik spotted a squad of Liao battle armor ahead, and veered to run through them, trampling at least one in the process.

Then the East Tunnel belched a column of fire that angled up a hundred meters before it darkened and turned into boiling smoke.

“We’ve lost the East Tunnel,” shouted Sortek. “We’ve got heavy tanks incoming!”

Black smoke was still streaming from the portal as the first tank burst through, guns and lasers blazing. It was followed immediately by another, and another—a solid stream of metal that seemed endless.

Erik turned, charging into the firing guns, bringing his hatchet down again and again, while dodging fire. But he kept taking hits. More and more indicators turned red. The cockpit was like an oven. Warning buzzers screamed in his ears as he struggled to keep the ’Mech from shutting down.

Something different popped from the tunnel mouth. A boxy, wheeled vehicle that bristled with missiles the way a sea urchin is covered with spines, a JESII Strategic Missile Carrier. Immediately, every available SwordSworn weapon targeted the lightly armored vehicle, but not before it launched a devastating volley of a hundred missiles over their heads.

Towers Eight and Nine were knocked out.

Erik screamed into his radio. “How long? Did we lock out their window?”

Sortek’s voice sounded hollow. “Sorry, Commander. They didn’t wait for the towers to be knocked out. They started their de-orbit burn while all four towers were still up.”

That was it, then. They’d lost. Even if the DropShips didn’t arrive, they’d eventually lose, but when the ’Mechs began to fall from the sky, they were certainly doomed. We gave it a good fight, though. He looked at the destroyed and burning Liao ’Mechs and armor scattered around him. We made them pay for it.

“Commander. I don’t understand. We still show four incoming DropShips, but we’re tracking debris along their old orbital track. We’re also tracking two more DropShips vectoring away at high acceleration.”

Erik’s eyes widened. He scarcely dared to hope. “Are we getting a friendly identification on the incoming ships?”

“Negative, Commander. No signal.”

“Do you mean they’re sending House Liao codes?”

“No sir, no signal.” There was a pause. “Commander, we’ve got ’Mechs separating from the incoming ships. They look like Union–class DropShips. We’ve got four braces of ’Mechs incoming ahead of them. Still no signal.”

Erik could do little but try to keep his wounded ’Mech out of harm’s way, ducking behind buildings and steering away from obvious threats. He tried to shed heat, so he could at least move in to use the hatchet, do some damage.

He glanced up, and could see the jump jets of incoming ’Mechs, like a staggered line of dim stars. Further back, toward the horizon, he could see the DropShips themselves, four bright stars in a tight line.

“Commander, I’ve got incoming IFF signals. SwordSworn! SwordSworn!”

The first wave of ’Mechs was landing: Black Hawks, Pack Hunters, Catapults, Hatchetmen, all wearing the sword/planet/sun of the SwordSworn. They formed a circle and began spreading out, clearing the landing zone.

Erik realized that Aaron must have called in virtually every ’Mech in their inventory, stripping their forces elsewhere to the bone. It was a desperate, dangerous move, but it would provide a good show for the Cappies, perhaps giving them an inflated impression of SwordSworn forces. If they decided to test the defenses of other SwordSworn-held worlds, it could backfire, but if they were too intimidated, or at least too uncertain—

The command circuit crackled, then a voice boomed through on such high gain that Erik’s ears stung. “This is Duke Aaron Sandoval! I have arrived, joined by reinforcements from many worlds. We have already taken Liao blood, and we will take more. Ravensglade is SwordSworn territory! We will fight until not one soldier of Liao stands on our soil! For Davion!”