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Salvage Is Sweet

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#1 IronChance

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Posted 21 January 2016 - 10:44 PM

NOTE: Hi, everyone! I've been writing MWO fan fiction for 228th since CW beta, but I never posted anything in this forum before. I was going to hold off on writing more stuff until CW3 launches, but a story idea sprang into my head a few days ago and I just couldn't wait. So, this is a bit of a fill-my-need story. It takes place after the battle of Tukayyid, but it isn't quite lore and it isn't quite MWO mirror fiction. Sort of a mix, but I had a bunch of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy it, too.

My writing follows the adventures of Sirus Conroy, a freelance reporter embedded with the 228th Independent Battlemech Regiment. If you would like to read my earlier stories, (uncensored, too) please visit:

http://www.228ibr.co....php?board=41.0

...and if you like what you see here, please PM me and I'll send you a link to my blog. I won't post it here, because I'm pretty sure PGI wouldn't let me. Or maybe they would, but I'm more interested in getting this story out for public consumption than trying to do gratuitous self-promotion. Posted Image


REVISION NOTE: Updated with custom images courtesy of one of 228th's very own - Signal!

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Sirus Conroy
Comstar Associated Press Service
Embedded with the 228th Independent Battlemech Regiment
Tukayyid, January, 3051



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It’s cold. Winter has come to Tukayyid.

The battle is over and so is the war - so they tell us - but to the soldiers of the 228th Independent Battlemech Regiment, it’s just another day of business. Although the Clans were technically defeated, both sides suffered losses so large they can’t easily be counted. In the aftermath of the ceasefire, every faction is anxious to try to salvage what they can before departing to neutral corners of the galaxy to lick their wounds.

But salvage is anyone’s game. Even merc units like ours are expected to recover our own dead pilots and destroyed equipment as well as the bounty due us from our salvage rights. It’s the cost of doing business, but it is also part of the profit. 228th’s last engagement zones are rich in destroyed Clan battlemechs and Deadfire wants as many of them on board our dropships before the evacuation deadline. But the deadline passes as every combatant party tries to scavenge from territory that strictly speaking was never theirs, all the while making excuses of logistical problems and bureaucratic delay for the failure to get off world on time.

Inevitably, skirmishes break out over disputed salvage rights - nothing hot enough to break the ceasefire, but still deadly enough to be a concern to the ones who may be trying to take a little more than is their due.

And that’s what brings us here to this windswept, snowy plain. We’re stealing stuff.

But as with all great criminal plans, something has gone awry.

We stand near the smoking ruin of a disabled BRV (Battlemech Recovery Vehicle), which had up until recently been our mode of transport. Everyone is shivering. No one looks happy. Me and a couple of salvage techs are standing as close to the truck’s burning tires as we can get without suffocating on the fumes. IronChance is making snowballs and throwing them into the smoky blaze. Vercinix is glaring at Deadfire. Deadfire is studiously ignoring him. Panicbutton stands a ways away and is using a pair of binoculars to look over a ridge.

“Go get that interesting looking Hunchback, he says,” Vercinix says. “It’s only five kilometers outside our secure zone. We’ll be fine, he says.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time,” Deadfire shoots back.

“That’s because you weren’t listening!”

“That’s enough,” Panicbutton says as he strides back to the group and stuffs the binocs into his belt pouch. “What’s done is done. It looks like the Shadow Cat that jumped us has cleared out, thanks to Queenblade.” Queen had been piloting a Firestarter that was escorting our BRV. He pounced on the Shadow Cat as soon as it attacked us, but since we had strayed so far beyond our original destination, he didn’t get there in time to save the truck from immobility.

It’s unusual to have the 228th’s command staff along on a salvage operation. Such things are usually reserved for salvage techs and pilots-in-training, but today was a special day. Our scouts had reported seeing disabled and destroyed Inner Sphere ‘mechs in Clan Smoke Jaguar colors. This was unusual enough, but added to that was the cursory observation that they had some strange modifications. Deadfire’s curiosity was aroused.

When we came upon the fallen Jenner, it certainly looked like an ordinary Jenner. No one was very impressed. Maybe the Clans were just pressing some enemy salvage into operation? We were about to load it on the truck and haul it back to base when one of the techs spotted a hunchback with two hunches.

“Two hunches?” Deadfire had exclaimed excitedly.

With that, we were off. We went well past our designated mission area. In retrospect, even this reporter has to conclude it was probably a bad idea.

After our BRV was disabled and Queen had driven off our ambusher, Panicbutton had a quiet conversation with Deadfire. I wasn’t invited, but I know enough about them to know Panic was once again patiently explaining that while on mission, his commands should not be overridden by the CO. While Deadfire was the undisputed leader of 228th, everyone knew Panicbutton was the leader on the field.

Panic issues orders to salvage what we can carry from the wreck and make ready for evac. Help is on the way. A Chi-Ha Class Troop Transport has been dispatched from base, along with reinforcements. They should be arriving shortly.

After a couple of minutes, a Wolfhound light mech appears out of the tree line of a nearby hill and comes crunching slowly through the snow up to our group. It’s wearing 228th’s colors. It stops and leans its 30 ton frame down to put its wolfish snout of a cockpit over the wreck of the BRV. Through its loud speaker, I hear a loud sniffing sound, then the ‘mech does something I don’t think I’ll ever forget. It balances delicately on its right leg and lifts the other over the destroyed truck. It stays like that and I hear through the loudspeaker the sound of… running water?

Vercinix bursts out laughing. Deadfire just shakes his head.

“Pisces,” Panic says into his commlink. “Stop that.”

“Stop what,” Pisces responds through the ‘mech’s loudspeakers.

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what? What am I doing, Panic?”

“You know damn well what you’re doing. Go back and make sure our ride gets here unharmed.”

“Yes, boss,” Pisces tiredly responds. The ‘mech puts its left leg back down and lopes off back toward the forested hill to look over the approach our transport will take.

“I didn’t even know Pisces could do that with a Wolfhound,” Vercinix finally manages to say as he wipes tears from his eyes.

“Oh, yes,” I chime in. “He’s been putting a lot of seat time into the Wolfhound. He says it’s the most balanced light ‘mech he’s ever driven.”

I know it sounds wrong as soon as I say it. Vercinix doubles over in another fit of laughter and even Panic and Deadfire crack smiles. IronChance emerges from the ruined vehicle and sets down a couple of bulging backpacks. He looks around and scratches the stubble on his chin in confusion.

“What’d I miss?” he asks.



It’s warm inside the Chi-Ha. We make good time cruising back to base through the tracks the BRV had made, but before long Pisces suggests a course correction. An enemy lance has been detected.

The transport twists off the track and lumbers up a slope and shelters in a light stand of trees. We maneuver slowly through the tall pines, looking for an easy way to crest the hill and descend into the valley on the opposite side.

“Wait!” Deadfire exclaims. The driver eases the vehicle to a stop. Deadfire points out one of the side windows.

“What?” Vercinix asks.

“Look! I think’s a bunker. A reinforced bunker.”

“Deadfire…”

“No, Verci,” Panic says when he looks out the window. “I think he’s right. It’s worth checking out.”

I look out the window and see a steel grey blast door nestled into the slope where it rises towards the hill’s summit. Although it’s large enough to accommodate a ‘mech, it’s concealed so well behind trees and the slope of the hill to make it all but invisible to anyone not tripping over it.

Panic checks in with Queen and Pisces and confirms none of them have been spotted yet. He orders the driver to approach the door.

When we get out and shuffle through the snow, Deadfire is the first to reach the control panel situated in the massive door’s frame. He claps his hands excitedly like a toddler and then starts pressing buttons before anyone can stop him. With a metallic groan that seems to echo everywhere in the world, the blast doors slide open. My shock at the suddenly illuminated interior and its contents overwhelm any fear I have about our position being given away.

“How did you…” Vercinix begins to ask.

“Kerensky’s birthday,” Deadfire almost shouts out in glee. “What else could it be? Well, besides the departure day, I guess. Also, could have been the Star League foundation-”

“Good job, Colonel,” Panic interrupts. “Let’s get inside and do a quick survey. By twos. Iron, you’re with me. Verci, Deadfire, follow and cover. Sirus, you and the techs hang back.”

Laser Rifles charge and the four of them cautiously move inside. After waiting a minute, I give a helpless glance at the techs, but they just shrug and choose a wall to hug as we follow. I mostly do the same, but I can’t help peeking over their shoulders as much as possible.

The room we enter is a massive cavern. Parts of it have obviously been dug out and supported by the works of engineers, but most of it is naturally formed. It’s well lit by massive overhead lamps that spill dull yellow light everywhere. They must have come on when Deadfire input the code, because the layer of dust on everything suggests nothing has happened here in years or decades. Maybe centuries.

“It’s a…” I begin to say but then stop when I realize my voice carries an echo.

“A Star League Cache!” Deadfire exclaims as he and Panicbutton make their way back toward the entrance from the dim reaches of the back wall.

“Gotta radio this in,” Panic says as he walks back to the Chi-Ha. “Everyone stay here. And don’t touch anything!”

“Too late,” Vercinix says loudly from where he is standing halfway down the quarter mile depth of cavern. He is watching IronChance hug the foot of a giant Battlemech the likes of which I have never seen. As I approach, I hear Iron murmuring to himself. At least, I think he’s talking to himself.

“Oh, baby. Sweet baby,” he whispers as he caresses the ‘mech’s giant foot. “You’ve been in my dreams so long and here I come to you just like in a dream. It’s fate. Kismet. Destiny.”

“What’s he doing?” I ask Vercinix.

“Foreplay, I believe.”

The ‘mech IronChance is caressing is certainly the most impressive of the assortment of equipment, ‘mechs and vehicles in the cache. Most of the rest is covered in tarps or in pieces. One scout car toward the entrance seems like it’s in serviceable condition, but it’s hardly even worth notice.



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As the techs begin to take inventory and Vercinix tries to pry Iron away from the towering battlemech, Panic approaches with Deadfire in tow. The colonel quickly leaves his side to join the techs in excited conversation about the unearthed treasures.

“Well, there’s good news and bad news,” Panic says to Vercinix after casting a bemused glance back at Deadfire.

“Bad news first,” Verci responds. “Always bad news first.”

“The bad news is Queen says the Clan lance has spotted us and is moving in on our position. Fast.”

“Good news?”

“Pisces says True Leader went ape-**** and ordered all available resources to our position to reinforce, but they aren’t going to make it here before we can slip away.”

“Now, wait. That’s bad news and good news and more bad news. You lied to me, Panic.”

“I obfuscated. There’s a difference. Iron, stop touching that!”

“But, Panic,” Iron says as if waking from a dream. “We can stop them! We can use what we’ve got here!” He gestures at the ‘mech he was just foot-loving.

“Iron, that Black Knight has been sitting here since before your grandparents had grandparents. It’s not going to do anything but gather dust a little while longer until we can drag it out of here. Besides, we don’t even know if it has an engine.”

IronChance doesn’t respond, but cackles in manic glee as he all but skips over to a ‘mech prep station and starts flipping switches. I hear the familiar hum and crackle of energy filling a ‘mech’s myomer. Dust begins to spark and vibrate off the Black Knight’s armor. Iron claps and hoots. Panic’s usually steely demeanor drops almost as far as his jaw.

“Techs!” he yells out, but the techs already started running over as soon as they heard the noise. “Get the **** over here! Help Iron get this thing running in record ******* time! Verci, you’re with me.”

Panic grabs a confused Vercinix and the two of them run over to the vehicle in the entrance. Along the way he shouts at Deadfire to pull the Chi-Ha into the cavern and seal the doors until the Black Knight is ready.




“All right, guys,” Panic says. The commlink in the old modified Shandra Scout Vehicle carries his voice on the frequency Queen and Pisces and the approaching reinforcements can hear. I can hear it, too. Panic shot down my request to join him and Verci in the Shandra. Not enough room for three. I sit in the Chi-Ha and listen in.

“What we’ve got here is a sharp bend in the ridge we need to defend. Our main problem is that the point we’re defending is ahead of our position. The plan is to have Queen and Pisces lure them down the valley and away from the bunker. Hopefully, they’ll pursue and we’ll hammer them to pieces as Charlie lance comes up.”

“And if they don’t pursue?” Queen asks.

“We’ll improvise.”

I don’t know who is in Charlie lance or what ‘mechs they’re piloting, but I hope they’re fast. The curses and shouts I hear from outside the transport where Iron and the others are working on the Black Knight aren’t encouraging. Here’s hoping the cavern walls mask the Black Knight’s energy signature.

“Here they are,” Queen reports. “That Shadow Cat is back. His friends are Arctic Cheetah, Timber Wolf and Hellbringer.”

“****,” Panic breathes before he remembers to toggle his mic. I don’t fault his frustration. Those are probably the four worst ‘mechs we could have expected. While we could have outrun a Direwolf or overpowered Kitfoxes and Stormcrows, this lance seems like the cream of the Clan crop.

“All right, that Shadow Cat will be cautious. Bait that Cheetah in as much as possible, Queen. Pisces, be ready to pounce.”

“Roger,” Pisces and Queen respond.

“I want to see those heavies crest that ridge before you guys break off. It’s going to be tough, but I know you can do it. Don’t break a leg, though.”

There’s no confirmation to that. It’s understood. It’s a bad situation. Sacrifice isn’t needed. What’s needed is excellence. Fortunately for all of us, Pisces and Queen specialize in delivering that particular quality. But unfortunately, this isn’t a mission where 228th will be graded on meeting or exceeding requirements. There will only be survival and great profit, or death and defeat and incomparable loss. Panic and Verci’s scout vehicle doesn’t come equipped with ejector seats and I know without having to ask that they aren’t planning on running.

“Cheetah’s on me,” Queen says. “Bringing him in. Shadow Cat is coming, too.”

“I got you, Queen,” Pisces communicates. “Just a little further… Almost there. Now! Bank right and come up the slope. Let’s hit right leg.”

“Can’t. Shadow Cat is right here. I’ll try to draw him off.”

The two pilots duel the two Clan ‘mechs for what seems like minutes even though I know it’s just a few seconds. Queen is doing well punishing the Shadow Cat he had driven off before, but Pisces is struggling with the Cheetah. It’s the bane of the Inner Sphere. It moves too fast and hits too hard and even though Pisces has been perfecting his Wolfhound skills, the aged Inner Sphere light ‘mech is no match.

“I can’t show him my left leg,” Pisces says without a hint of worry. “I’ll try to soak him and pull him back.”

“Now?” Verci asks. I know he’s seated in the scout vehicle’s gunner compartment, but I have no idea what they’re carrying.

“No,” Panic responds coldly. “Not until we see those heavies. Queen, break off with the Shadow Cat. There should be enough space. See if you can take some heat off Pisces.”

A couple of tense seconds pass. Either I’m grinding my teeth or someone on comms is doing it. I’m too tense to be sure.

“That right leg is red now, Pisces!” Queen hollers. “Get it!”

“Done,” Pisces responds a moment later.

“Heavies on the ridge!” Verci exclaims.

“Shoot the Hellbringer,” Panic commands.

“NARC away!”

The NARC missile is notorious for being the silent killer of battlefields. It does no damage, but it flies quietly and serenely and buries itself into a ‘mech and begins emitting a frequency only friendly ‘mechs can hear, especially friendly ‘mechs who are far away and carry a lot of long range missiles that love to listen to that sweet song as they home in on their target.

“Queen, Pisces – retire,” Panic commands.

“Can’t,” Queen tersely responds. “No armor left. Evade and skirmish, Pisces.”

“That timber is going to eat you guys alive!”

“Missiles inbound!” Verci yells. “The Hellbringer is getting pounded and withdrawing.”

“Charlie Lance! Retarget the Timber!”

“Negative,” comes the response form Charlie Lance’s commander. “No target solution for the timber. Targeting Shadow Cat.”

“Verci – I’m moving us up. Tag and NARC that Timber. Iron, where the hell are you?”

“No, no, no!” I hear Iron’s voice carry across the cavern as he directs the techs. “THAT one goes there. THIS one goes here! Right?”

“Be right there, Panic. Almost ready,” Iron hurriedly adds over the comm.

“****! I’m legged,” Pisces yells out. “Good news, though. Missiles hitting Shadow Cat. Looks like he’s retreating. No, wait. He’s engaging Queen.”

“Ejecting!” Queen yells out.

“Queen’s out, but his chute deployed. The Shadow Cat is gone, too. Those LRMs caught up to-”
Pisces cuts out ominously. The next few seconds pass without my heart beating.

“Got him,” Verci says.

“Panic, sir, we have a solution on the timber, do you-”

“Yes! For ****’s sake! Fire!”

I want to reach for the comm switch and check if Pisces is ok, but I dare not. Comms discipline is strict at the most lax of times in 228th. Me checking to see if he’s ok is not considered critical information.

“Ah Ha! HA HA!” Iron cries out in triumph from across the room. “Colonel! Open that door soon or imma make it open!”

The massive blast doors slide open with a screech, but it is muted by the sound of the Black Knight heavy ‘mech stepping out of its birth and walking to the entrance. Everything seems to shake and hum. I poke my head out of the Chi-Ha and watch the majestic looking ‘mech. As he passes, Iron gives me a thumbs up and a wink from the cockpit. I wave belatedly and then scurry back to the comm console.

“-******* dodge and move. Charlie, please move up ASAP.” Panic’s voice is almost… well, it’s almost panicked.

“Panic, I’m here. Moving on your position,” Iron says over the comm.

“My position is hurrying the hell over to you. Get this ******* Cheetah’s other leg!”

“Roger that, ******* the Cheetah.”

A moment later, there’s the sound of falling timber outside the blast doors and a lot of cursing over the comm. I can’t even begin to type it all without fear of blushing to death.

“Damnit, Iron! Quit screwing around!”

“Sorry… just didn’t get a chance to configure the weapons the way-”

“Kill it!”

The sound of a large pulse laser firing is a heavy and electric bass that fills you with dread. You’ll never forget it once you hear it. The sound of TWO large pulse lasers is, unsurprisingly, twice as dreadful. Somehow, it’s not so bad when you know it’s coming from one of your own guys.

“Cheetah’s down.”

“Panic. Charlie Lance. We lost contact with the timber. We got a good long licking on him, though.”

“Well, lick some more! He’s right ******* here. Verci, get another NARC on him.”

“Oh, no, no. No need for that fellas,” Iron’s cheery voice cuts in. The sound of the LPLs combined with the mellow buzz of a mass of medium lasers and the peculiarly warm sound of melting metal floats into the cavern.

“Panic, I can see him,” Queen’s voice announces over the comm. “I touched down at the base of the slope. Iron shaved off his right shoulder. He’s pulling out along the tree line. Making for home in a hurry.”

“And the Hellbringer?”

“Giving him ECM coverage,” Charlie Lance commander reports. “Sorry, guys. He stayed behind the ridge and we couldn’t reacquire.”

“No problem, Charlie. Good job.” I can’t hear it, but I’m certain Panicbutton is breathing a sigh of relief. I breathe
another one myself just in case anyone else needs it.

“Hey,” a voice breaks in over comms. It takes a second, but the signature devil may care tone of Pisces is unmistakable. “Hey. Did you guys know there’s a hunchback with TWO hunches out here? Can I have it?”

Edited by IronChance, 26 February 2016 - 01:22 PM.


#2 Angus McFife VI

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Posted 22 January 2016 - 01:04 PM

Excellent story. I loved everything before the combat. The combat part was too vague for me but I liked the part when he describes the large pulse lasers.

Good read man.

#3 IronChance

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Posted 22 January 2016 - 09:25 PM

Thanks! Yeah, I was trying to challenge myself and see if I could write an action scene where my narrator is only hearing the situation over the comm. Think I may have over-reached! ;)

#4 IronChance

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Posted 26 January 2016 - 01:23 PM

REVISION NOTE: Updated with custom images courtesy of one of 228th's very own - Signal!





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