[dcs_p]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.”[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]“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?[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]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.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]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.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]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 famous for their adaptability to the region’s weather.[/dcs_p]