Edited by TygerLily, 17 May 2015 - 09:23 PM.
0
Write A Gg As A Short Story
Started by TygerLily, May 17 2015 09:20 PM
1 reply to this topic
#1
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- The People's Hero
- 2,150 posts
Member
Posted 17 May 2015 - 09:22 PM
Started this thread on my unit's forums and think it would be fun here too! I'll start!
#2
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-
- The People's Hero
- 2,150 posts
Member
Posted 17 May 2015 - 09:26 PM
Untitled
“Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!”
I stole a quick glance at my radar and saw the two signatures on the seismic sensor approaching from around the corner. Being an 85-ton Stalker and 100-ton Atlas, those signatures flashed nice and bright as the war machines pounded across the bridge toward the inside of the volcano.
I leaned forward to get a little better view out of the cockpit of my Catapult. The inside wall of the volcano’s throat was lined by a metal platform. I’d backed my “Cat” up to the wall by the entryway so that as the enemy burst forth I could be ready to run past and back out!
That cumulative 185 tons could kill but could it catch?
“Taskforce Nine. Any unit, respond.”
Silence. The team had ejected one by one as we took the center of the volcano. According to intel reports, holding that center was a key to retaking this location. The location itself was highly defensible and provided a good vantage point for setting up a firebase to monitor this sector for aircraft, enemy Mech and vehicle movements. So it was important to the brass but, more importantly, all us foot soldiers keyed in on the “highly defensible” part.
That and the “retaking” part.
My good friend Elias, aka Crazyhorse, and I had picked up some extra work in the system while our corps wrapped up our current contract. We’d been fighting for this House Kurita front for the past two months and while our unit was repairing Mechs, haggling with Kurita for replacement ammunition and the like, we’d decided to head back out. For a few c-bills more, I thought.
The push to drive the occupying force out of this volcano fortress was a little costly. But we’d managed to hold it for a brief minute until they tried to push back in. We’d traded a few more casualties on both sides and now it was just me and them. The inner walls of the volcano glowed red from the magma below the platform.
Retake. I’ve had about enough of this planet, I thought.
The enemy Assault Mechs were crossing the bridge and would round the corner in a few seconds. My eyes flicked around the heads up display and various readouts. Fortunately, the neurohelmet not only controlled my 65-ton machine but also helped me sift through the battle info at the speed of thought.
The last known status on that Atlas was that the center of his Mech was pretty chewed up. If I could land a shot, I could probably kill him. That is, if his pilot didn’t get a lucky snap-shot in with that Defiance brand Autocannon-20. That line of cannon wasn’t called a “Mech Hunter” for nothing…
Moments away now. I did a one last flick through the battle info and saw the Stalker was also looking vulnerable. It had much of its left leg armor sheared off and with a touch of luck, he also had some ammunition stashed in there that I could take a potshot at and blow.
My ammo level blinked red at me for my long range missiles. The Catapult had an egg-shaped body, like a helicopter with no rotors. On each side, the Cat had a huge cube-shaped boxes that held the two LRM-15 racks and the entire chassis was propelled by two massive legs that resembled a hind dogleg. Missiles online but low ammo. Low is better than 'no,' I told myself. My three medium backup lasers were primed and ready.
It was now or never.
When you move, the machine moves. Through the neurohelmet, the machine becomes an extension of you and its sensors become your senses. BattleMechs were truly a marvel of modern warfare; merging machine with man. Every government has sought bigger, better soldiers and this was the final product. Firepower to level a city that wasn't piloted so much as worn like a second skin.
That’s what made these machines such a powerful weapon in the 31st Century; used for subjugation, freedom, war between the Great Houses, or even paychecks for mercenaries like us: Cameron’s Highlanders. Regardless of this symbiosis, these behemoths moved like a ton of bricks. Veteran pilots have often retired and taken on a stigma from society for being “slow.” But you can’t blame them...there's a certain slow rhythm you follow during combat movement and aiming. The truth about these geezers is the majority of their battles were spent analyzing information being piped directly into their brain via the neurohelmet. Flicking through targets, checking maps, statuses on friends, foes...all in the time it took to twist left at the waist, take the brunt of an attack on their Mech’s arm, then twist back front to return fire.
At least if we’re slow we’ll be rich.
A massive metal fist started to come in to view from the corner. The funny thing is, when you spend so much time merged with your machine, you get used to “being” twenty meters tall and you begin to forget the real size of these humanoid vehicles. That fist was actually the size of my teenage car back home.
I moved out just as the Atlas came in to view.
He came in and was looking a bit too far left to see me. The Stalker was on his right and I aimed my Mech for the zone between them. The Stalker was a huge armless war machine that kind of looked like a blimp with legs. The only thing keeping it from being comical was its two squarish weapon pods and a long history of using them to end people. A cold sweat broke on my brow as I steeled myself and focused on the mangled metal of his left leg. I had one shot or he’d have his.
My medium lasers flashed out at the Stalker, illuminating the walls green for a moment. The infamous skull-dome of the Atlas glowed eerily like a jack o'lantern under a yellow funnel cloud. The beams seared deep into the Stalker’s leg but I didn’t stick around to see what happened. I heard an explosion which was enough for me. I passed between the two hulks and headed for the bridge. The girders groaned as my Mech thundered across and began kicking up ashy dirt on the other side.
The Stalker and Atlas had both undoubtedly gotten turned around. They cruised around 50 kilometers per hour -- slow in the world of Mechs -- so I should have put enough ground between us to allow me to use my missiles. They arm in flight but only after they cross around 180 meters. Up ahead the ground dropped sharply into a valley with a lava flow running through it.
I launched the Cat into the air with half my jump jets, using the other half to turn me in the air. Momentum carried me along a trajectory over the valley and at the apex I caught the Atlas in my targeting reticule. I feathered the jets to keep me hovering for just a moment more as my missiles locked-on. I heard the tone and launched. The missiles raced out like a cluster of stars followed by wispy smoke, slamming into the Atlas’ chest. He winked off the radar. Visually, I had the satisfaction of watching him fall as I began a free fall myself after cutting my jets. His wreck had almost hit the ground as I fell out of view into the valley below. I tapped the jets again to pad my landing. Now that I was under cover, I cycled through my targeting info and saw my golden opportunity.
The Stalker was indeed crippled in that left leg. One nice thing about the Catapult is you can be running forward and nearly look behind you. I ran down the valley and turned to see the Stalker had limped up to the lip of the cliff. I took aim. At the tone, I launched a single volley at him. The pilot reversed and the missiles splashed the cliffside. The Stalker knew he couldn’t cross all this open ground at that speed without being rained to death by my missiles. Not that I had enough ammo to do that...or enough ammo to pull that threatening stunt again. But he didn’t know that. He backed out of view, awaiting his fate.
“-ome in.” Through static I could hear the command channel coming alive with transmissions from the dropship.
“Command!” I calmed myself and tried again. “Command, this is Taskforce Nine. This is Tiger Lily; we settled on a dropsite yet?”
“Nine, command. That’s a rog; check your nav and give us a once over of the site.”
I returned an affirmative. I saw the coordinates had indeed been uploaded and made my way to the site; a generally flat land surrounded by rocky spires. My radar indicated the 1700-ton Leopard class dropship was inbound with Task Force 7. I was also glad to see another indicator go off nearby: the ejection pod from my fellow Highlander, Crazyhorse.
“Crazy, this is Tiger. You read me? Site secure, boat’s coming in.”
It was silent for a moment.
“Yea...My f*ckin’ scotch spilled all over me.”
“Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!”
I stole a quick glance at my radar and saw the two signatures on the seismic sensor approaching from around the corner. Being an 85-ton Stalker and 100-ton Atlas, those signatures flashed nice and bright as the war machines pounded across the bridge toward the inside of the volcano.
I leaned forward to get a little better view out of the cockpit of my Catapult. The inside wall of the volcano’s throat was lined by a metal platform. I’d backed my “Cat” up to the wall by the entryway so that as the enemy burst forth I could be ready to run past and back out!
That cumulative 185 tons could kill but could it catch?
“Taskforce Nine. Any unit, respond.”
Silence. The team had ejected one by one as we took the center of the volcano. According to intel reports, holding that center was a key to retaking this location. The location itself was highly defensible and provided a good vantage point for setting up a firebase to monitor this sector for aircraft, enemy Mech and vehicle movements. So it was important to the brass but, more importantly, all us foot soldiers keyed in on the “highly defensible” part.
That and the “retaking” part.
My good friend Elias, aka Crazyhorse, and I had picked up some extra work in the system while our corps wrapped up our current contract. We’d been fighting for this House Kurita front for the past two months and while our unit was repairing Mechs, haggling with Kurita for replacement ammunition and the like, we’d decided to head back out. For a few c-bills more, I thought.
The push to drive the occupying force out of this volcano fortress was a little costly. But we’d managed to hold it for a brief minute until they tried to push back in. We’d traded a few more casualties on both sides and now it was just me and them. The inner walls of the volcano glowed red from the magma below the platform.
Retake. I’ve had about enough of this planet, I thought.
The enemy Assault Mechs were crossing the bridge and would round the corner in a few seconds. My eyes flicked around the heads up display and various readouts. Fortunately, the neurohelmet not only controlled my 65-ton machine but also helped me sift through the battle info at the speed of thought.
The last known status on that Atlas was that the center of his Mech was pretty chewed up. If I could land a shot, I could probably kill him. That is, if his pilot didn’t get a lucky snap-shot in with that Defiance brand Autocannon-20. That line of cannon wasn’t called a “Mech Hunter” for nothing…
Moments away now. I did a one last flick through the battle info and saw the Stalker was also looking vulnerable. It had much of its left leg armor sheared off and with a touch of luck, he also had some ammunition stashed in there that I could take a potshot at and blow.
My ammo level blinked red at me for my long range missiles. The Catapult had an egg-shaped body, like a helicopter with no rotors. On each side, the Cat had a huge cube-shaped boxes that held the two LRM-15 racks and the entire chassis was propelled by two massive legs that resembled a hind dogleg. Missiles online but low ammo. Low is better than 'no,' I told myself. My three medium backup lasers were primed and ready.
It was now or never.
When you move, the machine moves. Through the neurohelmet, the machine becomes an extension of you and its sensors become your senses. BattleMechs were truly a marvel of modern warfare; merging machine with man. Every government has sought bigger, better soldiers and this was the final product. Firepower to level a city that wasn't piloted so much as worn like a second skin.
That’s what made these machines such a powerful weapon in the 31st Century; used for subjugation, freedom, war between the Great Houses, or even paychecks for mercenaries like us: Cameron’s Highlanders. Regardless of this symbiosis, these behemoths moved like a ton of bricks. Veteran pilots have often retired and taken on a stigma from society for being “slow.” But you can’t blame them...there's a certain slow rhythm you follow during combat movement and aiming. The truth about these geezers is the majority of their battles were spent analyzing information being piped directly into their brain via the neurohelmet. Flicking through targets, checking maps, statuses on friends, foes...all in the time it took to twist left at the waist, take the brunt of an attack on their Mech’s arm, then twist back front to return fire.
At least if we’re slow we’ll be rich.
A massive metal fist started to come in to view from the corner. The funny thing is, when you spend so much time merged with your machine, you get used to “being” twenty meters tall and you begin to forget the real size of these humanoid vehicles. That fist was actually the size of my teenage car back home.
I moved out just as the Atlas came in to view.
He came in and was looking a bit too far left to see me. The Stalker was on his right and I aimed my Mech for the zone between them. The Stalker was a huge armless war machine that kind of looked like a blimp with legs. The only thing keeping it from being comical was its two squarish weapon pods and a long history of using them to end people. A cold sweat broke on my brow as I steeled myself and focused on the mangled metal of his left leg. I had one shot or he’d have his.
My medium lasers flashed out at the Stalker, illuminating the walls green for a moment. The infamous skull-dome of the Atlas glowed eerily like a jack o'lantern under a yellow funnel cloud. The beams seared deep into the Stalker’s leg but I didn’t stick around to see what happened. I heard an explosion which was enough for me. I passed between the two hulks and headed for the bridge. The girders groaned as my Mech thundered across and began kicking up ashy dirt on the other side.
The Stalker and Atlas had both undoubtedly gotten turned around. They cruised around 50 kilometers per hour -- slow in the world of Mechs -- so I should have put enough ground between us to allow me to use my missiles. They arm in flight but only after they cross around 180 meters. Up ahead the ground dropped sharply into a valley with a lava flow running through it.
I launched the Cat into the air with half my jump jets, using the other half to turn me in the air. Momentum carried me along a trajectory over the valley and at the apex I caught the Atlas in my targeting reticule. I feathered the jets to keep me hovering for just a moment more as my missiles locked-on. I heard the tone and launched. The missiles raced out like a cluster of stars followed by wispy smoke, slamming into the Atlas’ chest. He winked off the radar. Visually, I had the satisfaction of watching him fall as I began a free fall myself after cutting my jets. His wreck had almost hit the ground as I fell out of view into the valley below. I tapped the jets again to pad my landing. Now that I was under cover, I cycled through my targeting info and saw my golden opportunity.
The Stalker was indeed crippled in that left leg. One nice thing about the Catapult is you can be running forward and nearly look behind you. I ran down the valley and turned to see the Stalker had limped up to the lip of the cliff. I took aim. At the tone, I launched a single volley at him. The pilot reversed and the missiles splashed the cliffside. The Stalker knew he couldn’t cross all this open ground at that speed without being rained to death by my missiles. Not that I had enough ammo to do that...or enough ammo to pull that threatening stunt again. But he didn’t know that. He backed out of view, awaiting his fate.
“-ome in.” Through static I could hear the command channel coming alive with transmissions from the dropship.
“Command!” I calmed myself and tried again. “Command, this is Taskforce Nine. This is Tiger Lily; we settled on a dropsite yet?”
“Nine, command. That’s a rog; check your nav and give us a once over of the site.”
I returned an affirmative. I saw the coordinates had indeed been uploaded and made my way to the site; a generally flat land surrounded by rocky spires. My radar indicated the 1700-ton Leopard class dropship was inbound with Task Force 7. I was also glad to see another indicator go off nearby: the ejection pod from my fellow Highlander, Crazyhorse.
“Crazy, this is Tiger. You read me? Site secure, boat’s coming in.”
It was silent for a moment.
“Yea...My f*ckin’ scotch spilled all over me.”
Edited by TygerLily, 18 May 2015 - 04:57 AM.
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