high-powered laser hit on the ventral surface of the flattened saucer shape of its main hull. Duralloy flared with white heat; blackened, twisted wiring and severed power conduits dangled from the gaping wound, a smoking, oil-bleeding disembowelment.
But the Assassins held their ground, lowering their fuselages to take advantage of the cover provided by height and the rugged ground, slamming round after round into the packed and unmoving targets below at a range of less than a hundred meters. As the destruction continued, the valley began filling with dense, white smoke, partly from the savage detonations of the Assassins’ barrage, partly from the shrouding smoke screens generated by enemy striders both to cloak their movement and to attenuate the savage laser fire snapping down from the crest of the hill.
Katya estimated that at least half of the mobile artillery walkers and vehicles had been destroyed outright or so badly crippled they would never participate in the coming battle.
A missile detonated against her right shoulder, jolting her hard. There was no pain, but she did feel as though someone had landed a solid blow on her arm, and alerts began scrolling down the right side of her visual display, warning of a short-circuiting power couple, damaged kinesthetic relays, and a failure in Assassin’s Blade’s right CPG targeting system. The strider was moving and firing, so both Kurt and Ryan were still on-line; Katya implemented the primary damage control sequence, then checked the lasercom link with the surviving Assassins. Two dead, so far, three badly damaged, including the Blade.
Radar showed a solid return less than thirty meters ahead, advancing up the slope toward Katya’s right. She shifted to infrared, adjusting the wavelength reception until haze coalesced into the glowing image of a warstrider.
She recognized that machine, a KR-200 Battlewraith, a fifty-four-ton monster sporting a left-side electron cannon and a heavy assault arsenal of lasers, missiles, and short-range cannon firing explosive shells. More to the point, she recognized that specific machine, for it had a General Command module strapped to its dorsal hull, a GC modification identical to the one mounted on her own Warlord. It was moving swiftly upslope, angling toward Hagan’s warstrider element to the east.
“Kurt! Ryan!” she called over the ICS circuit. “I’ve got control!”
A mental code switched command of the Warlord to her cephlinkage, leaving Green and Allen interested spectators. Suddenly, Katya was occupying the warstrider’s body as though it were her own; her right arm was out of action, but she could bring up her left, dragging the targeting cursor blinking on her display up and onto the Battlewraith’s upper hull. The target was closer now, less than twenty meters, and apparently still unaware of the Assassin’s Blade crouched among the boulders on the hilltop. A push with her mind, and the charged particle bolt lanced through smoky air, striking dead on target with a flash and a crack of thunder.
Got you, Travis Sinclair! she thought with savage satisfaction. Another push sent the last of the Warlord’s M-21 rockets slamming into the Battlewraith’s side. You goking bastard…
The Battlewraith staggered back a step, then turned, its electron cannon sweeping up, seeking a target. Katya was already in motion, however, sprinting those last twenty meters in an all-out charge downhill, stepping beneath the wicked-looking muzzle of the EPC, slamming against unyielding armor with the deadweight of her damaged right arm/CPG mount.
The collision loosed a savage thunder and jolted Katya so hard that her data feed momentarily winked out. When it switched on again, her right arm was on the ground, torn away by the impact, while her foe’s Battlewraith, caught off-balance, was rolling back down the hill, an avalanche of black duralloy. She followed…
… and caught a 100-MW laser burst squarely on the Warlord’s
But the Assassins held their ground, lowering their fuselages to take advantage of the cover provided by height and the rugged ground, slamming round after round into the packed and unmoving targets below at a range of less than a hundred meters. As the destruction continued, the valley began filling with dense, white smoke, partly from the savage detonations of the Assassins’ barrage, partly from the shrouding smoke screens generated by enemy striders both to cloak their movement and to attenuate the savage laser fire snapping down from the crest of the hill.
Katya estimated that at least half of the mobile artillery walkers and vehicles had been destroyed outright or so badly crippled they would never participate in the coming battle.
A missile detonated against her right shoulder, jolting her hard. There was no pain, but she did feel as though someone had landed a solid blow on her arm, and alerts began scrolling down the right side of her visual display, warning of a short-circuiting power couple, damaged kinesthetic relays, and a failure in Assassin’s Blade’s right CPG targeting system. The strider was moving and firing, so both Kurt and Ryan were still on-line; Katya implemented the primary damage control sequence, then checked the lasercom link with the surviving Assassins. Two dead, so far, three badly damaged, including the Blade.
Radar showed a solid return less than thirty meters ahead, advancing up the slope toward Katya’s right. She shifted to infrared, adjusting the wavelength reception until haze coalesced into the glowing image of a warstrider.
She recognized that machine, a KR-200 Battlewraith, a fifty-four-ton monster sporting a left-side electron cannon and a heavy assault arsenal of lasers, missiles, and short-range cannon firing explosive shells. More to the point, she recognized that specific machine, for it had a General Command module strapped to its dorsal hull, a GC modification identical to the one mounted on her own Warlord. It was moving swiftly upslope, angling toward Hagan’s warstrider element to the east.
“Kurt! Ryan!” she called over the ICS circuit. “I’ve got control!”
A mental code switched command of the Warlord to her cephlinkage, leaving Green and Allen interested spectators. Suddenly, Katya was occupying the warstrider’s body as though it were her own; her right arm was out of action, but she could bring up her left, dragging the targeting cursor blinking on her display up and onto the Battlewraith’s upper hull. The target was closer now, less than twenty meters, and apparently still unaware of the Assassin’s Blade crouched among the boulders on the hilltop. A push with her mind, and the charged particle bolt lanced through smoky air, striking dead on target with a flash and a crack of thunder.
Got you, Travis Sinclair! she thought with savage satisfaction. Another push sent the last of the Warlord’s M-21 rockets slamming into the Battlewraith’s side. You goking bastard…
The Battlewraith staggered back a step, then turned, its electron cannon sweeping up, seeking a target. Katya was already in motion, however, sprinting those last twenty meters in an all-out charge downhill, stepping beneath the wicked-looking muzzle of the EPC, slamming against unyielding armor with the deadweight of her damaged right arm/CPG mount.
The collision loosed a savage thunder and jolted Katya so hard that her data feed momentarily winked out. When it switched on again, her right arm was on the ground, torn away by the impact, while her foe’s Battlewraith, caught off-balance, was rolling back down the hill, an avalanche of black duralloy. She followed…
… and caught a 100-MW laser burst squarely on the Warlord’s
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