"They landed today. I don't know how they got through the satellite nets without us knowing about it but there they were, large as life. The kommandant had sent my lance out on patrol, between the factories and Maria's Elegy. We were moving parallel to the maglev line, using the repair equipment out there to practice our magres scanning. Hutchins thought he had a bucket-loader or maybe a boring machine on his scans.
And then it shot at him.
There were six of them, gray-black 'Mechs that appeared out of the maglev's shadow and fired us up. Hutchins' Verfolger went right down beneath a Black Knight's hatchet. It stood there for a minute, Hutchins' blood dripping from its hatchet, and then it wiped the blood across the insignia on its chest—a damned Blakist sword with some kind of black wings and a half-moon over a red triangle. It was numbered forty—I hope there aren't forty of those verdammt bastards!
The rest of us bunch up and started pouring out fire at them. Galton and I managed to kneecap a Buccaneer and Marshall killed one of the Excaliburs with a Gauss slug to the head, but the little damn Lightray was the worst. It circled us and circled us, hitting our rear armor with its lasers every time, daring us to turn our backs on its larger brethren so they could cut us down.
There were just too many of them, and we were too far out for any help to come. I heard some radio chatter reflected through the mountains, though… heard the Catamounts calling for help. God help us if Hesperus falls… God help us if Blake rises…"