* * *

“…hurt.... cannot.... Noooo....”

The scream faded to static and then silence as the Thor’s missile ammunition detonated in the over-the-shoulder launcher, tearing a gash through its left side and setting off the main ammunition bin by sympathetic explosion. A red-orange fireball ripped through the interior of the Clan OmniMech, shattering its turret-style waist and amputating both legs. Its left leg flipped up and over the head of Connor Sinclair’s Bushwacker, landing in the river. The right leg was thrown far to one side, into a nearby minefield where it triggered several of the hidden explosive devices. A twisted, misshapen frame of metal landed several meters off to one side, all that remained of a once-powerful war machine. One of the best Clan designs, piloted by a tenacious warrior. Star Commander Freya had dogged their tracks for several kilometers.

“Careless fool!” Though a weak transmission partly obscured by the static, the kind Sinclair had come to recognize as the Smoke Jaguar communications on which his computer could now eavesdrop, there was no hiding the disdain and anger coloring the voice. Unless the lieutenant missed his guess, that would be Star Captain Hasaan Furey who had been referenced in other intercepted transmissions.

Corporal Sorenson’s relief was just as evident. “Nice work, Captain. You were right, we should have sidetracked to take her down earlier today.”

Sinclair’s lungs felt on fire. Gasping in breaths of the cockpit’s scorched air, he choked on the ozone scent of burnt insulation from the monitor which had shorted out. Just as well he was saved any comment, with Dominic Paine interrupting. “This is Gunner, moving in from the west. Where’s my support?”

He was running behind. A glance at the mission clock told the lieutenant just how many precious minutes he’d wasted dealing with the star commander. He had already taken out the site’s powerhouse -- a fairly impressive plant, considering there was only the one ‘Mech factory, a large set of greenhouses and some storage and barracks facilities to supply. But by now he should have been meeting up with Dominic to hit the small offshore island on which the factory was situated. “Where are you, Dominic?”

“Fighting off a Blackhawk-Kurita variant and a Strider just this side of the second bridge.” A brief pause. “Check that. Make it a Blackhawk-KU only now. Damn! That hurt. The better question is, where are you?”

Making up time fast as he could. Running deeper into the small outpost, Connor pulled up short as his HUD painted a threat icon, the computer tagging it with the code for a Puma OmniMech, primary variant. The computer couldn’t always tell OmniMech variants apart, but the twin particle projection cannon made this an easy ID. He didn’t need to glance at his armor schematic to see that one solid salvo from those PPCs would score through any location on his Bushwacker, his weak armor courtesy of Star Commander Freya. According to the HUD, the Puma waited just around the corner of the two-story greenhouse complex.

Sinclair plunged through the glass wall, thinking to try a shortcut.

Star Captain Furey must have had the place wired for sensors. “There is one inside the project,” he said almost at once. “Protect those facilities!”