"Mike Moscoe - BattleTech - MechWarrior - Dark Age 09 - Patriot's Stand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moscoe Mike)

L. J. studied the ground ahead. The road was lined with ditches on both sides. They were dry now, but the
green along the verge showed there had been water. The landscape was rolling, giving plenty of dead
ground. The bushes were low, mixed with clumped grass. Few places to hide there. Ahead rose foothills
covered in purple and green, cut here and there by tree-lined creeks or sharply banked gullies. That might
limit a pursuit. Then again, maybe the terrain would help him cut off a prize. Rocks and boulders jutted up to
protect shooters. So far this planet had produced only slug-throwers fit for killing small furry things. They
hardly scratched a BattleMech’s paint.

Don’t get cocky, kid,L. J. reminded himself. A cakewalk was nice, but cakes could hold surprises.
Approaching the curve, L. J. spotted three fairly new ’Mechs and ordered his topkick off. “Sergeant, just tap
the town if there’s nothing worth taking. We may have some gear here for you.”

“Yes, sir,” came back fast.

That left L. J. with just his ownKoshi, aSpider, and Godfrey’s Condor tank, with two scout rigs to fill the
intervals between the three. Time to get this battle going.

“I make our opposition as six IndustrialMechs and a few dozen infantry. Godfrey, bear to the right and see
what you can do to those two. Webrunner, you have the left pair. I’ll take the middle ones. Scouts, look for
crunchies trying to cause trouble and stand by to take down any ’Mechs we disable. We’ve got them
outnumbered two to six. Let’s do it by the numbers, Roughriders,” he ended.

“Roughriders!” came back in an enthusiastic shout. He pitied the poor dumb slobs up the hill, thinking that a
’Mech with a claw or drill gave them any chance against real BattleMechs piloted by MechWarriors.

“Advance on the enemy to the left, now,” L. J. ordered, and throttled up his BattleMech. Beside him his
team spread out, theSpider ’s long strides eating up the distance to the target. Beneath hisKoshi ’s feet,
brush crumbled. Footpads sank a good ten centimeters into the hard dirt under the light BattleMech’s weight.
It was good to be loose; L. J. echoed Godfrey’s yell.



“Damn,” Grace breathed softly. “So much for surprise,” she said into her mike. “Here they come.”

“How’d they spot us?” came over Falkirk’s public channel.

“You clomping around raising dust would warn a blind Brit.”

“I’m out of here.”

Grace had to stop that. “Start running and they’ll shoot you in the back. Stay down. Hold your fire,” she
ordered. Then she realized she was issuing orders and tasted the surprise. Well, thisis a battle. Somebody
had to give orders. Real orders, not polite suggestions. She glanced around. Surprise of surprises, people
were doing what she’d told them, huddling in place. Maybe these eejits could tell a good idea when they
heard it.

For a better view, she raised Pirate from his squat behind solid granite. The raiders were about three klicks
out. A hovertank with a horrifyingly long gun cut through the tall grass, heading for her left, sending dirt and
rocks flying as it made S-turns. A tall ’Mech with small wings trotted at the Wilsons. A shorter, ugly thing
with scads of rocket launchers on its elbows was headed straight for her.