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Federation of Skye, Lyran Commonwealth
June 26th, 3019
Almost exactly one year before, after crossing the parade field at his graduation fron the Nagerling, Derich Brenner opened the manila folder that contained the orders assigning him to the 6th Lyran Guards on Hesperus II, and that was more than happy. The 6th Lyran Guards were known, famous even, for their legendary debauchery – they were called “The Saucy Sixth” and used a busty, half-naked girl as their regimental insignia -- Derich certainly could appreciate that. Before he left Tharkad for his first posting, Derich’s father also told him that Hesperus II was a great place to make contacts in the LCAF, and already since he had been with the 6th he had several opportunities to rub elbows with all kinds of decorated social generals at the conventions and parties Defiance Industries hosted.
What Derich Brenner’s father failed to mention was that Hesperus II wasn’t the idyllic garrison posting just full of parties and rubbing elbows with nobles and corporate honchos Derich imagined it would be. Looking back at the history books (which Derich did not do), it seemed that every couple years the Draconis Combine or Free Worlds League would try to invade the planet, as Hesperus II was home to Defiance Industries, one of the largest BattleMech production facilities remaining in the Inner Sphere.
He, like the rest of his unit, was recalled from liberty when the alert was put out. Just a few weeks prior, Derich was half dead in a PPC coma lying next to some cute supply clerk from a different battalion, maybe she said she was from the 15th Guards, when his holophone went off the hook. Each ring pierced into his skull like an ice pick until he answered it, not taking the time to even put clothes on, and the surprised face from the duty desk officer when he answered the alert was priceless.
Now, instead of his head aching from a hangover, Derich’s head ached from the weight of his neurohelmet. The back to back patrols were taking their toll, not from the combat --Derich’s lance had yet to see any action – but from the monotony of pulling rear area security. All of the fighting had been further up the river, and the sector he and his lance had been assigned to patrol was so far from the front and close to the actual ‘Mech production plants that the enemy would have to be stupid or crazy to try to attack it.
Here he was, not toasting the Archon at a party, not talking the daughter of a noble into his bed, but in the cockpit of his Crusader, patrolling the feet of the Myoo Mountains because Hesperus II was being invaded once again. The sun was just peeking over the Myoo Mountains, but the gigantic craggy peaks still hid the world in darkness. Derich’s lance had been on patrol for the better part of the night, but the sun was his cue that his patrol was almost over. Not a moment too soon, either. Already he caught himself nodding off a couple of times during the patrol, a combination of the sleep deprivation of the last couple days and from the sheer, mind-numbing boredom was slowly transforming him into a zombie.
The best part of it all was that Hesperus II wasn’t being invaded by some rag-tag House regulars. No, this time, the Free World’s League went all no expenses spared and dropped Wolf’s Dragoons on the planet. The most notorious mercenary group the Inner Sphere had ever seen. The Dragoons just finished fighting in the middle of Marik’s bloody civil war, and now there they were, somewhere out there, somewhere, marching their way toward Derich and his lance.
…And there they are.
Derich looked down at his radar screen to confirm that the two midnight black Warhammers he had just seen across the river were actually there or if they were actually an apparition of his lack of sleep – his sensors were picking up just one Warhammer, rather than the two he was seeing with his tired eyes.
“Striker Lance, look alive. I got eyes on one contact, looks like a Warhammer, about one click out. Looks like he’s trying to find a way to ford the river,” Derich mumbled into his neurohelmet’s communications mic.
Gracie, Derich’s right hand man since he came to the 6th, seemed spooked by how his voice wavered. Donnie Gracie had been with the 6th for a couple years now, and showed Derich around Hesperus II, like where the best places were to get drunk and meet cute supply clerks from other units.
“I got eyes on, too. Do you see that insignia on the ‘Hammer? It looks like a black widow,” he responded.
Derich squinted his aching eyes and used his targeting system’s zoom function to barely make out the spider logo painted on the Warhammer’s boxy chest.
“Yeah, I see it. So what?”
“So it’s the Black Widow – Natasha Kerensky, that’s what!” Gracie pulled his Thunderbolt on line with Derich’s Crusader.
Derich had never paid attention to news holovids and was oblivious to what Gracie was so worked up about.
“Striker lead this is Striker four,” ever proper, Derich’s last member of the lance, Leutnant David Rufino, broke their chatter with proper radio protocol. “I’ve got three more contacts. Looks like an entire lance following that ‘Hammer,”
“Roger that four. Gracie, get the sand out of your panties and man up. It’s just some girl in a cheesy painted ‘Mech. We got this. Striker Lance, form up in an inverted wedge.”
“Whatever, man. Hope you decided what you want them to put on your headston. Moving into formation time now,” Gracie scuffed. Derich watched his lance form into a “V,” with him to the rear. If this Black Widow is scary enough to wig Donnie out, maybe I should put some space between her and I? He thought, wasting no more thoughts on the fact that he just put his closest friend in the universe in between him and the most deadly MechWarrior in the universe, Natasha Kerensky.
“I got incoming, tracking an LRM flight -- no two flights of LRM’s!” Gracie shouted as a black and crimson Crusader unloaded both long-range missile racks, the flash from their rockets igniting silhouetting the ‘Mech in the darkness. Derich guided his Crusader's crosshairs over the enemy avatar of his machine, waited the second it took to get a solid tone, then squeezed off his own counter battery of long-range missiles.
“Open it up, get some spacing between us!” Derich ordered, throttling his Crusader to a run. “Close the distance; get out of the LRM killzone!” Derich shouted as the Dragoon Crusader’s initial salvo of missiles impacted short of Rufino’s Shadow Hawk, erupting the loose silt dirt of the river bank into geysers of earth. The next salvo walked its way into Rufino’s ‘Mech, the initial shockwaves from the explosions distorted the air around the ‘Mech before dissipating in greasy black smoke. More smoke bellowed from the back of Rufino’s Shadow Hawk as he returned fire, his own LRM’s streaking up into the night arcing towards the black and red Dragoon ‘Mechs. The Hawk’s shoulder-mounted autocannon also roared to life, spitting bursts of tracers across the river.
Derich didn’t watch to see what effect his or Rufino’s missiles had on the Black Widow’s ‘Mechs. Instead, he was more concerned with the multiple particle cannons brilliantly lighting up the night, screaming millions of charged particles across the river towards his lance. The dancing man-made lightning would have actually looked quite beautiful, especially the reflection of the beams in the river, which made it even more spectacular.
The particle cannons exploded with the energy of a sun into the Enforcer piloted by David Brock's chest plating. The Enforcer’s armor glowed a furiously as it was reduced from hardened ceramic composite to melted slag. Derich could feel the concussion of report from Brock’s Federated heavy autocannon in his chest, pumping out round after round of armor piercing explosive tipped hate at the approaching Dragoons. Empty shell casings larger than a man poured from the Enforcer’s arm, dropping to the ground as their rounds danced into a Marauder. Brock triggered his large laser along with the cannon and the bright scarlet lance speared into the Marauder’s flank, searing off more armor there that the autocannon had already shred into. The Marauder stumbled back a bit from the force of the hits before its pilot regained his footing, seemingly shrugging off the carnage and unleashing a second round of devastating particle cannon blasts.
Brock’s Enforcer took both blasts of the PPC’s to the center of mass again. The tall, lanky ‘Mech seemed to hesitate mid stride, teetering back from the explosive impact of being slammed with so much pure energy, before Brock managed to coax it back forward again. The Enforcer took one more step towards the Black Widows before the magazine of autocannon rounds in the ‘Mech’s barrel-shaped chest exploded outwardly in a horrible fireball. Derich’s Crusader swayed from the explosion’s shockwave as he watched what remained of the Enforcer fall helplessly to the ground face first. The Enforcer’s lifeless carcass glowed eerily from the fire and sparks that danced around its resting place like little devils.
“Striker lead, Striker three is down! Looks catastrophic!” Rufino’s voice seemed distant in Derich’s neurohelmet, being drowned out by the hissing of lasers, barking of autocannons and roars of explosions. “I didn’t see him eject! I didn’t see him eject!”
Gracie’s Thunderbolt marched forward towards the Marauder. The trio of medium lasers nestled in the squat heavy ‘Mech’s chest under the drum of long range missiles burned to life, spearing emerald beams the stitched across the bird-like Marauder’s torso pod. The Marauder’s turret-mounted GM Whirlwind autocannon swung in line with the T-Bolt and belched off a burst of depleted uranium. The rounds impacted short, spitting up dirt.
Another Widow ‘Mech, a knight-like Griffin, stepped forward and stood abreast with the Marauder, raising its articulated arm and pointing the rifle-like PPC held in it’s hand in line with Gracie’s Thunderbolt. Before it had the chance to fire, Derich unleashed a barrage of missiles at the Griffin, the majority of which exploded up the Griffin’s right side, blowing chunks of armor out of its spaulder-like shoulders. Derich followed up with a blast from his medium lasers, both stabbing ruby beams of radiated light into the Griffin’s arm. The blasts from the missiles and lasers must have affected Griffin’s trigger, as the Griffin’s particle blast went wide into the air between the Thunderbolt and Crusader.
The Thunderbolt was about ankle deep into the river moving on up to the Marauder’s left side when Gracie fired the trio of medium lasers again, this time he backed them with a blast from his heavy laser. The Marauder’s armor glowed as Gracie’s energy weapons raked off armor from its left arm and flank, an explosion of sparks erupted from its shoulder as red-hot melted armor dripped off the ‘Mech into the river.
The Marauder pilot twisted his torso to shield his left side, which opened its rear armor to Derich. Seeing an opportunity, he held down the trigger on his joystick, charging his particle cannon -- One of the benefits of being assigned to guard the largest BattleMech production facility in the Lyran Commonwealth, or probably the entire Inner Sphere for that matter, was Derich’s Crusader had one of its LRM launchers removed for its own particle projection cannon by some of the most expert techs in the galaxy. -- In the split second it took the PPC to fully charge up, the Marauder reoriented itself and its weapons towards Gracie and the azure whip of energy charged into the Marauder’s nearly pristine right flank. Still, it was a good, solid hit.
Couple more hits like that and he’ll be down for the count.
Edited by DocBach, 02 July 2012 - 07:29 PM.
