previous three months in the southern Merutian valleys had taught him a lot about the region’s
climate and weather. A sudden change in wind could often mean a possible avalanche. One
more thing to worry about...
Looking out again to the surrounding mountains and valleys, Drake eyed just the thing he was
looking for. Far across the empty highlands, a shadowy hulk moved through the snow. The
figure’s obvious twin shoulders arched up into the blue sky, giving Drake a clear indication of
what it was. His unit’s only heavy `Mech, a 70-ton Guillotine, seemed to be making an advance
towards the Firestarter’s location. Though the Guillotine lacked its original weapons
configuration, the retro-fitted and jury-rigged laser array it currently sported would prove more
than enough for the light enemy `Mech. There was only one problem for Drake and the pirate
infantry in his immediate area; they were going to have to hold out against the 35-ton monster for
several minutes before the Guillotine could initiate its attack.
Pumping his hands in an attempt to keep them from freezing, Drake hastily pulled his radio mic
up to his mouth, accidentally freezing the piece of metal to his runny nose for an instant. Though
the weather was cold now, he knew it would be all the worse in less than an hour. Ordering this
retreat would require an abrupt end to the firefight that his men were now engaged in. All the
better. The battle would be over as soon as the sun set. The technologically superior Breaker’s
unit would make short work of the Kurakoa platoons if they had not successfully withdrawn by
that time.
The distant explosions of a passing air battle cried out a sharp warning. Fearing the worst,
Drake guessed that the last of his aerospace support had been destroyed. The piercing screech
of metal on metal sounded out just as he glanced overhead. Suddenly a wave of heat rushed
over the battlefield, bringing an eerie yet comfortingly warm touch to Drake’s chapped skin. A
gutted Shilone fighter, falling from the lower atmosphere, met the cold embrace of Merutia’s
blanketed valley. With a horrible crash, the Shilone wreckage disappeared into the snowy drifts
several meters away.
“Good Lord...” he thought aloud, his words fading under an ocean of horror. The Shilone, the
Kurakoa pirate group’s largest aerospace fighter and personal craft of the team’s head wingman,
had buried two of his nearby men when it had hit the ground.
“Fall back! Fall back!” Drake screamed to his men. As the nearby wreckage began to burn,
the wind carried its poisonous stench across the stark white valley. Covering his face from the
stinging cold and noxious fumes, he noticed the fighter’s cockpit had been ripped away by what
seemed to be heavy autocannon or missile fire. Though he was filtering the air with the heavy
sleeve of his coat, Drake swore he could smell bloody carnage somewhere within the blackish
brown smoke. Drake decided to begin the retreat immediately. He began motioning to nearby
infantry as he moved away from the crash site. Abe Hamilton. An aerospace pilot I met over
twenty years ago on Miranda. Another one lost...
“Carrier A to all available units. Initiate backup plan B6. Treadmark Six, you’ve got the skies
covered from now on.” Though he trusted his men on Six, Drake failed to see how any of the
ground infantry and armor would be able to provide much surface to air support with the
primitive equipment they had. “Treadmark Four, Treadmark Four. I want cover fire at extreme
ranges, regardless of any other problems you’ve got at the moment, Martin. We need that
Firestarter’s attention and we need it now, over.”
Three seconds later, the Guillotine pilot’s reply crackled through the old communicator. “You’
ve got your cover fire Carrier A. I’ve got incoming aerospace fire but I’ll be able to keep em off
of you. With all due respect, get the hell out of there Drake. Vohlwinkel out.”
“Thanks for the support Four. Carrier C is now closing with the Firestarter. Concentrate
everything you’ve got on those flamers of his. Drake out,” Drake responded. Immediately, the
Guillotine’s pilot began firing lasers at the smaller `Mech in a vain attempt to discourage its pilot
from any further advance.
Despite the new threats it faced, the Firestarter’s pilot seemed determined to reach the pirate
infantry and do some major damage before turning its attention to its more dangerous
opponents. Drake speculated about the pilot’s motives, who must have known the small `Mech
couldn’t survive an encounter with the Guillotine it would soon be facing. Perhaps he realized the
absence of radio chatter after the Pack Rat had been destroyed? Maybe he’s pegged the little
scout for the commander’s vehicle?
Weathering extreme weapons fire and two well-placed long-range missile barrages from
Carrier C, the enemy machine began firing its medium lasers at the battered remains of the
Shilone fighter. Even as Drake realized the enemy pilot’s intentions, the ammunition in the fighter’
s burning fuselage detonated. Whisking away both snow and pirate infantry, the shockwave
knocked him a few meters closer to the glen of conifers.
Sometime before hitting the ground, when time seemed to both last forever and flash like never
before, Drake felt something inside his lower back click unnaturally. Before he had time to
consider what might have been broken, he landed face first against a protruding stump of reddish
igneous rock. Pulses of nausea and panic converged through his body. Together they
threatened to rob him of all logical thought as he battled to keep control of his own nervous
system. Gradually recovering and stumbling to his feet, Drake could feel the warm blood that
now covered his face as it cooled to the temperature of his skin. His hands too were covered
with blood, fresh red evidence that the terrible explosion was not just some resurfacing nightmare
of battles long ago. He wiped the blood and tears from his eyelashes with the back of his left
hand and began looking for his communications headset. The little black antenna and wire
arrangement had been torn from his helmet in the explosion. Without that tiny piece of metal and
plastic, the battle was not only lost, but his unit might never recover from the Breaker’s ongoing
assault. He frantically began to scan the snowy, rock-spattered area nearest him.
As his eyes searched the snow before him, it became obvious to Drake that they had been
damaged in his fall. Though he could still make out his surroundings, a clouded grey blur seemed
to appear momentarily over anything that he focused his left eye on. Noticing the familiar shape
of the dark comm headset mount, Drake reached down and reattached the freezing metal piece
to his helmet. Though it took only a second, his fingers burned where his exposed skin had
touched the metal. This has to end fast. We aren’t prepared for the nightstorm. The nightly
blizzard with its incredibly powerful windchill was known to kill even the Merutian locals, settlers
