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[AaronLee]

Pretty sure I've yet to post this; it's just some quick flash fiction about a beleaguered pilot and his aging Commando slugging it out in Caustic. I'd been spurred to write it after reading some of the official mechlore for MWO, figured I'd have a crack at it myself. Any feedback's appreciated, this was a joy to write and now that I'm piloting some other 'mechs these days (Dragons and Jags mostly) maybe there'll be something else in the future for this.




The sun shone blood red through the thick, sickly clouds billowing over the horizon. Another morning in the caustic valley – ever wretched, ever contested.

His hand tracked across the master power panel, engaging the switches in order; backup, powerplant, actuators, electronics... he blinked as his HUD sputtered to life in front of his eyes. It was outdated, flatter and less sensible and ergonomic then the integrated battle network in his lancemate's Atlas. They didn't make fresh firmware for commandos anymore.

He gave the dashboard a firm pat. “Let's go girl, just one more battle.” He'd said that too many times already. This 'mech had been slagged, zombied, ejected from... but they had survived. Stoli had come back in (mostly) one piece, even after countless losses.

This hellhole was a place no pilot chose to be assigned. And among those misfits incapable of holding rank – or their tongues, he was the worst. That was what they'd said after he'd laid out his last commander over a clearly botched and rigged game of Bachat.

Now, he wouldn't have it any other way. This mech would bound across the field until it could bound no more, then he'd give it a hero's junking. But for now, the reactor whined to life beneath him, its rhythmic, cyclic putter loud in his ears. Only half a meter of structure separated him from its workings.

He willed Stoli into a stand, took in his surroundings with a few flicks of his eyes, and slammed the throttle forward.

The mech strode true, sending him bouncing about in his harness, jostling in freefall as he jinked left and right around a shambling Hunchback and towering Atlas. His low profile was hidden beneath the maze of pipes and outbuildings that made up the base compound. For when that cover ran out; he was already picking a path through the acid-washed ravines ahead that would offer him optimal cover.

“Heading to three-line,” he breathed absently into lance comms.

“Same,” Stanislav said, his Catapult loping across the field after him. He hooked his commando right into tree cover and behind a ridge, letting Stani' pop his head up first and attract attention. He cut his throttle, his harness punching him in the gut as his 'mech bounced to a stop, head just above the ridge. He waited.

Sky blue lanced through the air and he heard the sound of vaporising metal as the beam skipped across Stani's Catapult.

There, in the cleft of two ridges. “Stani, keep him occupied.”

“That's the plan.” Gauss fire sparked from his left as Stani lit the target up. Answering fire rained down... still potshots.

Friendly LRMs arched gracefully through the choked green sky toward the advancing enemy formation Now that the fight had started, it was time to move. He punched the throttle and Stoli whined back to life, carrying him hastily up a side pass toward the ridge, mostly out of sight. Now that the enemy lance was occupied with bigger, more threatening targets, a little commando slinking up the hill wouldn't attract much attention.

His 'mech bounced beneath him as he caught full stride up the hill, then ducked around toward the enemy formation. He came out right behind the Atlas, slowly lumbering forward, opening up on a hapless friendly hunchback moving between hills. Of course this Atlas would have friends, who knows when one might poke around a bit and find Stoli's backside.

He took in the scene from his partial cover. The Atlas' radiators were glowing a fiery yellow as he fired, chunks of armor flying off of his core as answering fire bore down on him. He was already under concentrated attack, it was doable, just a little nudge...

He eased out of cover and slammed every key on his weapon controls. SRMs and pulse LASERs cut ribbons and sprays of glowing armor from the towering 'mech's back plating. It faltered, but then began to turn.

Overestimated it.

Time to go.

He started a three-point turn, reversing and preparing to throttle up just as the Atlas' fiery, red-eyed glare turned toward him... then flickered out.

Glowing metal fluttered from the 'mech's core as his reactor vented in a flash of blue plasma. The lumbering giant fell in a rigid tumble, sending up a cloud of acrid dust as it skidded down the hill in a heap.

“Charlie is down. Good work, shortstuff.” it's a stupid 'mech pilot that lets even the smallest mech tear at his unprotected flanks unheeded. It's an even more stupid one that turns their back to concentrated fire in order to deal with flanking 'mechs.

The garble of the radio faded into the bouncing strides of his machine as he descended the ridge and rejoined his lance, waiting for another unsuspecting victim.

[Sennin]

A good short read. I enjoyed it.