4
DropShip Sābisu
Alrakis, Kessel Prefecture
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
15 July 3039
“Go.”
Despite adrenaline spiking as the countdown echoed loudly throughout the ’Mech bay and the confines of his cockpit, Shin Yodama’s mind wandered. His tongue ran across rough teeth and realized he’d not brushed that morning. His eyes fell on the brilliantly colored tattoos starting mid-forearm and working its way almost to his shoulder. The patterns of his life to date. Memories bubbled as though called forth by a witch’s brew.
“Yo.”
A punk eighteen-year-old kid with years of guerrilla experience who managed to talk his way into helming a Panther as the 117th Najha Training Company destroyed a rebel stronghold during the Ronin War of 3034. The locals called him a hero, yet he’d seen a glimpse of the wider world. The history books that chronicled the Ronin War never mentioned Najha, where a no-name planetary militia dispatched a few retired samurai looking to relive their glory days. He’d left the small world and their small dreams behind for greater things….
“San.”
Bribing his way onto a tramp DropShip, he’d worked like a dog for weeks in the cramped confines of the merchant ship, fending off attacks from crewmen displeased at having a yakuza brat on board. After groundings on Shirotori and Camlann, he’d made his escape on Buckminster, confident the prefecture capital world would bring new opportunities. But no. Five years. For five years he sweated and schemed and lived off the street, hand to mouth, before proving his worth, convincing Tai-sa Tasha Greer he was a warrior. A MechWarrior. A bushi that would honor the Dragon and the Eighth Alshain Regulars as much as a noble-born Combine samurai….
“Ni.”
Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the hated Federated Commonwealth would dare rise against the Dragon. Or that they would be so terrifyingly effective as their four main thrusts hit a staggering twenty-seven worlds in a mere two months. Or that the audacity of Kanrei Theodore Kurita would show no bounds as Operation OROCHI not only counterattacked the massive invasion meant to topple the Draconis Combine, but also struck hard across the Davion border. Or that he, a lowly yakuza orphan would command a BattleMech company about to take that fight straight back into the teeth of the Lyran forces currently occupying the world of Alrakis. A Combine world. A Dragon world. Our world. My world….
“Ichi.”
Memories scrubbed in an instant as Shin’s stomach lurched into his throat. He swallowed back bile, fingers whitening on the joysticks as the BattleMech’s drop pod fell away from the Union-class DropShip making its way laterally across the skies of Alrakis. He drew on his t’ai chi training, affixing a pattern in his mind, and he worked muscle memory through the calming motions to rein in his raging pulse and out-of-control breathing. Long minutes passed as vibrations pummeled through the drop pod and his new ride, a forty-five-ton Phoenix Hawk.
Light and sound washed through in a dizzying cacophony as the drop pod exploded away from his Phoenix Hawk a kilometer above the fast-approaching surface. Fingers danced across consoles, calling forth an avalanche of information, showing the Arcturan Guards already under fire from heavy aerospace strafing attacks; further damage the command already disrupted by the uprising. His feet feathered the jump jets, bleeding off inertia as he brought his weapons to bear, the Phoenix Hawk’s large laser seeking a target.
Time to earn that honor.
PHOENIX HAWK “KUROI KIRI”
Orguss Industries’ phenomenally successful Wasp was first produced in 2464, and Orguss leveraged that success into creating a new masterpiece: the forty-five-ton Phoenix Hawk. An engineering marvel of its day, this BattleMech retained the same speed profile as its twenty-ton cousin yet carried far more armor and firepower, including a Harmon large laser, giving it an effective ranged weapon far beyond most recon-designated models. The Phoenix Hawk would quickly fill the ranks of the Star League Defense Force and be produced in almost every House, earning a reputation as the “perfect medium BattleMech.”
Shin Yodama was orphaned by the Lyran Commonwealth during the invasion of Marfik in the Fourth Succession War, and was ultimately adopted by guerrillas. Across numerous operations where he took out his anger against his enemies, he proved his intelligence and natural grasp of tactics and was eventually recruited into the Kuroi Kiri yakuza family. The Kuroi Kiri secretly taught him many new skills, including how to pilot a BattleMech, which he used to good effect at the age of eighteen during the Ronin War. He also fought in the War of 3039 and would eventually serve in the Fourteenth Legion of Vega, where he would meet the man that would further change his life forever: Theodore Kurita, eldest son of the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine.
Despite his origins, Shin Yodama and his Phoenix Hawk, Kuroi Kiri, are destined for greatness in the service of the Dragon.
North of Jojoken
Andurien
Duchy of Andurien
27 December 3039
A curtain of graceful white wafting from the windows of heaven fell in ever-thickening waves as the season’s third hard snow fell across the capital city—and its northern reaches—of the Duchy of Andurien. A different curtain, however, was drawing closed on a long, painful decade that had begun with bright dreams and the youthful enthusiasm unbound by the certainty of experience or the chains of regret. Snow blanketed the landscape in all directions, softening scars, dampening fires, covering corpses grown cold.
But still this last fire to extinguish.
Force Commander Paul Masters tried to shake the maudlin thoughts—Gonna get me killed—and concentrated on the jarring impacts each step hammered up his spine. His beloved Phoenix Hawk—his Roc—sprinted through winter’s mantle at ninety-seven kilometers an hour. His left hand pushed against the throttle as though the extra pressure might eke out one more joule of energy from the fusion engine trapped within the chest of the forty-five-ton war machine. Each step of the BattleMech spanned long meters, tearing up large sections of the picturesque scene, revealing all the ugly of human conflict hidden beneath. Behind Paul, spread out in emulation of an ancient Roman wedge formation, Second Battalion of the First Marik Militia marched hard, trying to keep up with their sprinting commander.
“How long will it take them to recover?” he breathed.
“I don’t give a good damn how long it takes them to recover,” the harsh voice of Colonel Shanna del Rey broke across the commline, anger and exhaustion drenching her words in equal measure. Paul jerked in surprise—unaware his commline was still open from the last transmission—causing his Phoenix Hawk to roll heavily into the next step. He kept the machine upright but felt the extra hammer blow of the footfall all the way into his teeth.
“They rebelled against their rightful liege—our liege,” Colonel Rey continued her tirade as muffled explosions peppered her transmission. “They deserve everything they get. What I do care about is how long you’re taking to reposition. The duchy is finished, but someone forgot to tell the First and Sixth Defenders that. If you’re not in position on the left flank in the next five minutes, we just might be the next ones buried under this Blake-cursed snow.”
Paul cleanly maneuvered his BattleMech past a large berm—a hill, or a destroyed tank housing the corpses of fellow Free Worlders?—and continued on, watching the radar screen as the flank of the Sixth Defenders of Andurien worked ever closer.
“Almost there, Colonel,” he announced. He’d planned on redeploying into a more broad, rolling line of attack but now realized Colonel Rey’s First Battalion were finally pinned after several days of heroic raiding that left the Andurien defenders furious. The Anduriens now pushed with all of the anger that only a decade of failed secession dreams could fuel.
He clenched his teeth to open another commline to his own battalion. “Those able to keep up, stay in wedge formation. I’ll lead the strike directly into their flank. We’re gonna move fast and hard, and we’ll push through then wrap back around to exit their rear. As they reposition to deal with us, it should buy the colonel a reprieve and give the rest of you slow movers the time to catch up and bring your big weapons to bear. Any questions?”
A chorus of no sirs echoed as he came upon the valley ridge. In the diffused light below, laser lines the color of rage slashed through curtains of white, and secondary explosions burst harsh and hot. Setting aside his sentimental thoughts, Paul stomped down on his foot pedals, igniting jump jets that violently thrust his BattleMech into a harsh parabolic arc. Then he brought his targeting reticule in line with an enemy Hermes II, his large laser expertly liquefying armor across its torso in a spectacularly display of marksmanship.
Time for the duchy to end….
PHOENIX HAWK “ROC”
Few BattleMechs become the meterstick against which all others of the same class are measured against. The forty-five-ton Phoenix Hawk is one of those truly supernal designs. Originally marching off the Orguss Industries production line in 2568, the P-Hawk quickly became a staple of recon lances and was fielded in large numbers during the Star League. A successful combination of speed, armor, and firepower was suitable for long deployments, which meant this popular BattleMech would continue in the employ of every Successor State. Unlike so many designs that disappeared during the downturn in production during the Succession Wars, the Phoenix Hawk has remained in constant production—albeit limited numbers at the tail end of the Third Succession War—for almost five hundred years.
Colonel Paul Masters is a standout within the Free Worlds League Military. He is the son of the hero Jean Masters, who served with distinction during the Fourth Succession War, and is close friends with Captain-General Thomas Marik. His first battlefield success occurred when he brilliantly led a battalion of the First Marik Militia to victory against the First and Sixth Defenders of Andurien, which eventually led to the Duchy of Andurien’s surrender in January 3040. Despite such accolades—and the charisma that has drawn influential people into his wake—he remains a thoughtful commander who weighs the opinions of a few trusted advisors and then makes the best call for all of his troops.
He and his Roc are staunch defenders of House Marik, and their stars are still on the rise.
Written by Randall Neil Bills
