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Irisuela Ramos felt her lips draw back from her teeth as she saw the trail of road-dust to the west of the smoke rising from the ranch. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen one of the outlying settlements raided - but before she’d always arrived too late to confirm the identity of those responsible, much less put a halt to it.
 
This time? This time was different. The feet of her Vulcan pounded on the ground as she pushed the throttle against the stops. The ‘Mech stood five times her height, wrapping her in forty tons of weapons and armour. She was, she told herself, the right hand of vengeance for those who’d been attacked here and before.
 
She found a break in the canyon wall and set the ‘Mech up it, the spade-like feet hammering foot-holds as she screened herself from direct vision with the rocks. Irisuela wanted to be close when they spotted her, killing close.
 
At the top she dashed up the side of a steep hill, using it to cover herself. There was a glitter of metal from ahead and to the left - flat, low-slung, range just under half a kilometer…
 
Tracer rounds slashed through the space to one side of her ‘Mech - autocannon fire from the tank she’d seen.
 
“Damn,” Irisuela snarled. She didn’t have anything with the range so she’d not caught them as much by surprise. The raiders had the cover of a second canyon too - they were common here and saved the ranchers miles of fencing when it came to restraining their herds.
 
The mechwarrior slammed her feet down on the footpedals, driving them against stops, and braced herself as the Vulcan’s reactor roared, venting plasma from ducted vents in its back. The ‘Mech took off like a rocket, arcing over the top of the hill and crashing down near the edge of the canyon, where tracks showed the raiders had descended. The legs of the Vulcan absorbed much of the impact, as did Irisuela’s command couch but she was still thrown against her restraints and her neuro-helmet whacked against the back of the couch.
 
But as she blinked, there was something beyond her crosshairs: bipedal, metal… another ‘Mech and right under a quarter kilometre away. In range, just barely.
 
Still recovering from the landing, she didn’t waste her time with a reckless alpha strike. Instead she closed her fingers on only two of the small studs on her joysticks and the computer painted lines as two lasers built into the chest of the Vulcan slashed into the rocks and turf beneath the enemy ‘Mech.
 
It was a Clint, she realised. The same size and speed as her own ride, and one that would have slightly outgunned a standard Vulcan. She’d refitted hers to a VL-5T model, as used in the Federated Suns, through: losing the range of an autocannon for extra heatsinks and a battery of lasers that swung the balance the other way.
 
Even so, she’d missed. The Clint twisted, bringing the right arm’s muzzle to bear but once again autocannon shells only whined past without touching her.
 
That made the slope too dangerous and Irisuela raced past it, spotting a light armoured vehicle - an armoured personnel carrier customised with a missile launcher of some kind - waiting at the bottom, perhaps by chance but perhaps in ambush. Either way, she wasn’t aiming for that. She twisted her ‘Mech’s waist and this time as she went past the Clint, she opened up with all four lasers and her minigun.
 
The other Mechwarrior had anticipated the move and this time the autocannon’s tracers intersected with Irisuela’s ‘Mech - lights flared on her damage console and she spared a split second to confirm that several rounds had connected with the Vulcan’s leg. The Clint wasn’t so lucky -  all four lasers had found their target and three had cut into the weaker rear protection. She saw the infra-red signature bloom and grinned. Could she get more lucky? A hit to the engine shielding in the first real pass?
 
A second stream of autocannon fire told her the tank was moving to cover her. A Vedette. Could be better, could be worse - not very identifiable. They weren’t uncommon in local use.
 
Suddenly firing her jump-jets again, Irisuela sent the Vulcan sailing over the heads of the fleeing raiders, landing in a patch of woods that absorbed her landing and masked her from most of the enemy. The missile carrier from earlier was in view so she took an opportunist shot and wasn’t surprised when it missed.
 
A second roaring leap and she descended into the canyon, landing almost next to the Vedette. For a moment she thought she’d misjudged where the modified APC was but her sensors identified a cluster of miniguns in the turret riding on this one’s back - a second conversion. Damn.
 
It didn’t really change the tactical situation though and sparks flew from the arms of her Vulcan as rounds better suited to anti-infantry work glanced off them. She fired all three of the lasers in the right side of the ‘Mech’s chest into the Vedette’s right flank and turret cheek, then added her own mini-gun. Unfortunately there was no sign of penetration and the temperature inside her cockpit soared, sweat soaking into the inner surface of her coolant vest.
 
She made to kick the gun carrier but then reconsidered as the second light vehicle came into view and a flight of missiles nearly struck her. Instead she circled, ducking into cover to avoid more missiles and clawing away protection from the Vedette’s left flank with her lasers. Something told her that the commander of the raids was inside the tank, not the ‘Mech or the carriers - the way they were rushing to protect it perhaps?
 
It was getting too hot - literally and figuratively. Rather than stand and fight she fired her Vulcan’s jump-jets and bounded around a curve in the canyon, hoping for a moment to let her heatsinks bring the temperature under control. The missile carrier came after her, roaring around the canyon and Irisuela forced herself to restrict herself to just firing one laser at it. She missed - both were moving too fast, and her targeting circuitry wasn’t enjoying the heat any more than she was.
 
The missiles it had fired before were long-range weapons, she recalled. That gave a simple solution - get inside the arming range of the light vehicle’s missiles. The rest of the enemy force was coming into view as she closed the range and opened up with all lasers and the minigun.
 
The tiny conversion was far less study than the Vedette, much less a ‘Mech. Its flank was smashed open as her computer marked out simulated lines on her display to show where the lasers had connected within inches of each other. Shrapnel had ripped through the crew compartment and Irisuela wasn’t inclined to examine it more closely - the other raiders would be interested in vengeance now.
 
“But vengeance is mine,” she reminded the universe.
 
Another patch of trees gave her time to cool and to study the situation. Despite her earlier hits on it, the Clint was still largely operational and it had moved up to hunt her, barely in her range but comfortably in mid-range for its autocannon. The Vedette and its escort were hanging back, using cover.
 
The two ‘Mechs exchanged shots in a deceptively desultory fashion, neither coming close. It didn’t suit either of them well to engage more closely.
 
Irisuela cut a corner to move in on the Vedette instead, wrong-footing the personnel carrier with it, that turned to close into effective range of where it expected her to be only to be too far away to intercede. The tank fired back but missed and took more turret damage, as well as a veritable crater added to the damage of its right side, narrowly missing the tracks.
 
Breaking off sharply she turned back and caught the second light combat vehicle as it rushed back, predictably. Her lasers ripped into it and the side buckled, then mini-gun fire ripped into the breeches, the little vehicle skidding to a halt, almost over-turning as rounds ricocheted around the interior, slaughtering the occupants.
 
“Timon! No!” a pained voice cried out from her radio.

Irisuela glanced at the controls and saw that the detection system, a bodge that replaced the original systems - had at long last identified the enemy frequency and cracked their cipher. Some civilian coding probably - serious military security took more than automatic systems to break.
 
“And then there were two,” she answered the man, in some satisfaction.
 
There was a pause and then… “Ramos - you piece of trash!”
 
Was that… why yes, she did know that voice. “Why Jean-Pierre, does your father know about this hobby of yours?”
 
“I’ll kill you!” The Vedette reversed its tracks, coming towards her without turning anything but its turret. She went to meet it, gladly. Papa Majogo’s eldest son had no reason in the world to prey on his neighbours… no reason perhaps except pride and a head full of tales from the time when ranchers here had fought against each other for the resources to survive.
 
The Clint rushed to the rescue but its autocannon couldn’t penetrate her armour, not fast enough to make a difference. The Vedette’s wouldn’t have either, but it didn’t even hit.
 
 
The left side of the tank came apart under her lasers and just to make sure, Isuela buried the foot of her ‘Mech in the wreck, braced and then flipped it onto its back and bathed it in the fiery wrath of the flamethrower built into the Vulcan’s right arm. Soon the flames reached the diesel tank and then…
 
No one escaped the explosion.
 
Irisuela’s focus almost cost her. The other Mechwarrior, now the only survivor of the raiding party, closed into point blank range and only fast last minute-footwork let her avoid a collision. The Clint’s laser - only one of the pair that hadn’t generally been in range or good gun-arc of the Vulcan - fired and stripped more armour from her leg. Meanwhile, Irisuela’s own shots went wild as she twisted to avoid the charge, a few minigun rounds scoring hits but nothing more.
 
The Clint lashed out with both fists but it was awkward and Irisuela leant her own ‘Mech back, gyro whining as it kept the balance of the ‘Mech, and avoided them, extending the foot that had finished Jean-Piere Majogo’s tank and delivering a punishing kick just above the left knee of the Clint.
 
The two ‘Mechs staggered away from each other, Irisuela taking deep breaths and feeling the dry heat inside her cockpit. Her crosshairs flickered and settled on the Clint’s chest but she paused as it raised both arms towards the sky.
 
“Ransom,” a woman’s voice, sounding as parched as her own, offered.
 
Irisuela eyed the Clint carefully. “You’re surrendering?”
 
“On terms.”
 
She considered. It wasn’t a sure thing that she’d win, but she was in a strong position given the reactor damage earlier. “Why shouldn’t I just finish you? Even with damage, your ‘Mech would be worth at least a million.”
 
“Firstly, your reputation. Gunning down someone who’s surrendered on an open channel… it wouldn’t look good.”
 
Checking her radio, Irisuela noted that the other ‘Mechwarrior had dropped the code and was making her offer in the clear. “I’ve had worse problems. Got anything else?”
 
“I can testify that the men you just killed were raiders, not just neighbours rushing to help. You know his papa will claim that.”

Damn, that was a good point.
 
“Power down and get out of your ‘Mech. I accept your surrender.” And since she’d said it on an open channel, if she reneged now it would impact on her honour.
 
Although she safed her lasers and let the cockpit cool, Irisuela kept the Vulcan’s minigun and flamer aimed at the cockpit until she saw the other Mechwarrior climbing down the Clint’s side, and tracked her until the woman doffed her coolant vest and turned deliberately to show she carried no weapons.
 
“Boots too.” Hiding a knife or pistol wasn’t easy in what ‘Mechwarriors wore their cockpits, which given the heat was as little as practical. Heavy boots were the only real option for that.
 
The woman obediently unclasped her boots and kicked them off, standing barefoot beneath her ‘Mech.
 
Grudgingly Irisuela safed the rest of her weapons and shut down the reactor.