Sounds of battle erupted sharply up the ridge both to the north and to the south. The flanking forces going over the top, Ramage thought . They'll have us surrounded pretty damn quick if we don't do something about it.

The Gray Death's line was crumbling. There was no way for unsupported infantry to do any more than slow these monsters. If looked as though the enemy commander had already evolved a plan to nullify Ramage's defensive line by pinning his infantry with a few light 'Mechs, and sending the heavy stuff around to the rear.

It was time to go.

Ramage reached into the bulky holster at his hip and withdrew a flare gun. Breaking open the breech, he inserted a 35mm red round, snapped the gun closed, aimed it at the sky, and fired. There was a dull thump, and the red star rose in a hissing arc that fell out over the valley and slowly drifted toward the ground. Here and there, isolated clumps of men began falling back from their positions. The signal, prearranged as they'd taken their positions, was the order to fall back to a second line of defense along the crest of the hill.

A flash of light caught his attention. White smoke trails stabbed out from a bunker thirty meters downslope and toward the north, reaching toward the Locustas it lumbered up the slope below. One of the shoulder-fired missiles struck the machine squarely on the plate armor across its cockpit, but left no visible sign of damage beyond a blackening of the 20-ton 'Mech's tan and brown camouflage paint pattern.

"Number three, fall back!" Ramage yelled. The Locustwas almost upon the hidden bunker now. There was an agonizing pause, and then two men broke from under their sheltering tarpaulin and bolted up the hill, just as the Locust'smassive foot smashed down on their roofing, splintering the roof logs into spinning white slivers.

The Locustpaused, its turret tracking side to side. The pair of machine guns mounted high up above its back on either side of the massive, round leg actuator casings swung around and down, falling into line with the running men. There was a high-pitched rattle and a twinkling fall of spent shell casings. Geysers of dirt stitched up the hill toward, through, and then past the two men, slamming into boulders and leaving white scars on trees. Ramage heard one of the men scream as heavy-caliber rounds shredded flesh and bone, spun them around and down, and left them as torn, bloodied, rag-limp forms still on the ground.

Enough is enough.Ramage thought. War is hell, but gunning down fleeing, unarmed troops isn't part of it!He stooped in his trench, grasping a heavy canvas satchel. He would take on this particular bastard by himself.

The Locusthad taken three more uncertain steps forward, then paused again, towering on its spindly legs. Ramage bent low as he raced along the trench, twice stepping across the twisted, broken shapes of Gray Death troopers cut down by the advancing 'Mechs. At the end of the trench, he rolled out onto the ground, rose in a low crouch, and raced the remaining thirty meters toward the enemy BattleMech.

Farther up the hill, near the crest now hidden by smoke and low, scrubby trees, the insistent, deep-throated voice of a heavy machine gun began yammering above the general roar of battle. That would be the 15 mm Spanner machine gun he'd ordered set up at the crest of the hill above the center of the line. The gunner must have spotted the Locustand be trying to bring it down.

At the moment, the machine gun was far more dangerous to Ramage than it was to the 20-ton BattleMech. Even armor-piercing explosive rounds would have to score many hits before they could do more than scratch that armor plate. As he ran, Ramage heard the snap and whine of heavy-caliber bullets high above his head.

The goddamned idiots,he told himself. They're firing too high again. Drop your aim, you bastards!

Fortunately for Ramage, they didn't heed his unspoken advice, and the rounds continued to bark and snap among the tree branches overhead, an occasional round flashing in miniature pyrotechnics against the hull of the Locust.The Locustwas holding its ground, its hull canted back to give its medium laser a clear shot at the machine gun nest on the hill above. The laser fired, a beam of white-lit fury boring through smoke, haze, and branches, toward the brush at the top of the hill. After a moment, the machine gun fired again, to be answered again by the laser. The battle was like a game of double blind man's bluff, with two clumsy and half-blinded opponents feeling for one another through the fog.

The exchange also meant that the Locustpilot was too busy to see the man running through the swirling smoke toward its feet.

Locustsdo not have vulnerable knee joints as do Stingers, Wasps,and similarly constructed humanoid 'Mechs. A Locust'sweak point was in the joint between foot and leg, where the ankle joint allowed the four broad foot flanges to fold and flex as the machine took each step.

The Locusttook a step forward, Ramage put on a last burst of speed, leapt, and came down on top of the 'Mech's right foot just as it began to sweep forward in its next step. He reached up and grasped the slender leg above the lower leg sheathing, hanging on as he swung dizzily forward. Somehow, he hung on without being knocked clear as the foot came down on the grassy hillside. Ramage took the canvas satchel and waited, watching for his moment. The Locustfired its laser again. The white-hot bolt discharging six meters above Ramage's head sent a wash of heat across his body. Then the machine took another step, and a narrow opening between foot and ankle sheathing opened as the machine's right foot flexed closed. Ramage jammed the satchel into the narrow opening, letting the closing of the joint itself wedge the package into the weak point in the Locust'sfoot. Then he grabbed the pull-ring igniter, let go with his left arm, and tumbled toward the ground. The igniter ring yanked free of the igniter, leaving a curling trail of smoke as the 'Mech lurched forward. Ramage hit the ground with a thump, and rolled. Then he was up and running as fast as possible down the slope.

Five seconds passed, then the air at his back was rent by a shrieking blast, and bits of metal whipped past his ear. Ramage flopped face down to the ground as metal rattled through the grass. He rolled to the side and looked back. The Locusthad settled back on its haunches, its spindly legs folded high above the cockpit. It was evident that the 'Mech had sustained serious damage to the foot, but, so far as Ramage could see, the foot was still attached to the leg.

He cursed. A five-kilo block of C-4 should have sheared the foot off cleanly, crippling the vulnerable light 'Mech. As it was, the damage could probably be repaired in a few hours.

The top of the Locustbroke open as the twin escape hatch panels swung apart. A helmeted head appeared in the opening. Ramage cursed again. His TK was back in the headquarters trench, and his holster carried an empty flare pistol. Except for his combat knife sheathed high on his armored tactical vest, he was unarmed.

Idiot,he told himself, what do you expect, chasing after 'Mechs and leaving your sidearm behind? Ramage, old son, it's time you retired . . . before these unfriendly people do it for you.

The Locust'spilot swung his legs clear of the hatch and dropped to the ground. He was bare-legged and bare-chested, wearing only red shorts and his incongruous, massive visored helmet, but the subgun clenched in his hands was short, mean, and deadly.

Time to go,Ramage thought. Keeping his eyes on the Marik pilot, he began to work his way backward down the hill, toward the shelter of some heavier brush twenty meters further downslope.