Now Sinclair was grateful for the cooling vest he wore. Waste heat flooded the Bushwacker’s cockpit as the fusion reactor spiked from the power draw required for the double-salvo of weapons. Heat sinks built into the engine worked almost as quickly to shunt it away, leaving Connor with only a few seconds in labored breathing of the stifling air.

No time to wait, though, as turrets flanking the ramp suddenly popped up and began to snipe at his BattleMech. A stream of light autocannon fire rattled against the Bushwacker’s right side, chewing into armor and raining his protection down to the ground in shards and metal splinters. Easy targets these. Sinclair’s centerline laser silenced them in a matter of seconds as he continued to move against the ramp, intent on putting down the second Firefly hard and fast.

The fireball blossomed at midpoint up the ramp, consuming the parked tractor-trailer rig as it threw a gout of flame skyward. The ramp collapsed, its structural integrity shattered by the force of the explosion. For a moment Sinclair thought the second Firefly might somehow be responsible, but no, not with the light firepower the design carried. Then he recalled the truck and the earlier transmission. Hauling explosives! Damn.

“MFB, this is Sinclair. I’ve lost the ramp!” And the advantage range might have given him as the Firefly opened up with medium lasers and missiles. The Bushwacker stumbled under the onslaught, gyro thrown out of balance, but the lieutenant’s steady hand on the control stick compensating for the rough treatment.

Corporal Sorenson did not exactly sound thrilled. “I’d recommend you find another way then -- and fast, sir.”

“It’s not like I can build another,” he snapped, trading salvos with the Firefly. The Bushwacker’s large laser ate away at the other ‘Mech’s shoulder, while the Firefly’s trio of lasers again spit emerald pulses into the larger machine. Connor’s autocannon missed, again.

“Yes, sir.” Soreneson’s voice was a touch more respectful, though plainly worried. “But there’s an Owens up here prowling around. If it finds us, we’re done.”

The Firefly had stepped up to the edge of the bluff, rising over the retaining wall which had helped bolster the strength of the ramp and now was all that remained of the structure. “Build another?” Connor whispered to himself, drawing a hint from his own words. He dropped his cross hairs down to the retaining wall, scoring a deep cut across its face with large laser and then hammering at it with missiles. The LRMs could not acquire anything approaching a solid lock, but so close they hardly needed it. The explosive warheads dug deep, shattering the bulwark. The wall crumbled in an avalanche of dirt and rock and broken ferrocrete, undercutting the Firefly which fell backward and then tumbled down the slide. Crushed armor plating littered the slope. Sinclair stepped his ‘Mech forward, bringing one foot down on the fallen Firefly’s right side and caving it in. Laser fire and autocannon slugs exploited the hole, working down into the central cavity and smashing the large gyro which all ‘Mechs depended on to keep upright. Carefully, the young MechWarrior^® stepped over the stricken Firefly and worked his way up the treacherous slope.

“I don’t know what you did, Lieutenant, but the Owens is heading your way with something to prove.”

“Something to protect, you mean,” Sinclair said as he topped the rise and throttled into an easy walk. His scanners registered the Owens’ approach, but also the large facility built into the cliff facing of a nearby large hill. “Jackpot, Sorenson. If those dishes on top are any clue, we’ve walked into a Clan communications facility, and a rather large one.”