Quoted By:
Thunder in the Mountains 2
The first opponents over the ridge were the recon forces. Striders, Crickets, and a Griffin. The commander.
Four to one, as just the mechs she could see. If she was in her old Dominus, she’d outweigh any three of them combined.
Caldwell was waiting for the right moment, hidden, but calling him in would defeat the purpose of their little mission. It had to be convincing.
Leave the survivors with fear, or leave none at all.
Jamming went up.
Her torso particle projectors sang, calling attention with their pulsating bolts.
The three lights charged, rushing to get in and surround her, while the commander rose on his jump jets, soaring off to the side, trying to find the right position to get angles for shots.
A cluster of missiles rattled across her chest.
Plant the feet, breathe, line up the crosshairs on the bobbing and weaving machines, and discharge.
Her instinct said the target would pull right, her eye said it would bob left.
A nickel-iron slug the size of a watermelon broke the sound barrier exiting the barrel of her railgun, snapping to the right past the lead Strider and passing beyond visual range.
Too early. No Core here to place it right where it’s needed.
The trio of particle projectors snapped out again, staggering the blasts to lay down a suppressive barrage and sending the lights into evasive patterns. The railgun was death to any of them, in the right place, but the slower-moving energy blasts could be dodged.
Another few seconds, and they’d be upon her.
The Griffin laid down its own lasers at range, slashing across her armor while she tried to dance aside clumsily.
It’s all so awkward. Not light and agile, but plodding steps that hardly leave the ground.
The remaining distance was eaten up rapidly by the attackers, swinging around in front of her to spray away with their pecking machine guns and lasers, just as her weapons recharged.
She holds the railgun’s shot, the left arm instead lashing out and catching the most eager of the Striders in the leg with the offhand’s retractable blade, shearing it off with the mech’s own momentum meeting a specially hardened alloy designed to cut through it. The sod collapsed over and instantly mashed the ejection button before tipping over completely.
The other two kept their distance after that, rotating around her machine in clockwise and counterclockwise patterns, so facing one would let the other worry away at the lighter rear armor. The tactics of every light pilot, facing a heavier foe.
She had time before it really got troublesome. The Deva had armor enough to hold out for now. Another railgun slug planted itself in the ground a pace ahead of one. Still too early. Damn bugs.
