Part Seven
Water streamed from my windscreen. My ‘Mech was standing in five meters of water, with waves breaking at about the height of the Crusader’s waist. I had been right! If I’d attempted a water landing, it could have been a disaster.
I checked my compass and searched the horizon. I could make out the blur of mountains, the raw edge of cover marking the land. There was a smudge of gray against the sky, smoke rising from multiple fires. The battle had begun without me. My tangle with the Shilone had separated me from the other Wolverines, of course. They must have set down quite close to the target city, while my brief but uncontrolled plummet had taken me too low too quickly for me to maneuver into a good approach for touch down. I gripped the Crusader’s piloting controls and set its massive legs in motion. Leaving a wake of spray and roiling water, I moved towards the combat zone.
At least I didn’t have to worry about overheating while traveling.
The reason our maps had not matched the terrain was obvious, now. The Draco forces occupying Hell must have expected an attack, must have engineered a way of flooding the coastlands along the Thanatos Sea.
The static on the command channel cleared, the jamming lifted.
The Company had landed in a hot DZ. The radio chatter on our combat frequency presented an unfolding tale of swift and shocking defeat.
“Red Alpha Three, this is Red Leader,” I heard. “Circle left! Wasps on your Six!”
“Copy, Red Leader! Red Beta One down, requires assist!”
“Red Leader, this is Red Gamma One! Watch it! Watch it!”
“This is Beta Four. I’m on them...”
“Watch our, Four! Two Orions, on your five, coming in from behind those buildings! Watch it... watch...”
“Alpha Four, this is Red Leader. Check Alpha Two. He’s down hard and smoking...”
And so it went. By the time I neared the shore, four of the Wolverine’s ‘Mechs were out of the fight, not counting myself. That left six still in the fight, and they had been backed into a narrow semicircle near the water’s edge, not far from the banks of the Styx.
My motion sensors detected movement not far ahead. I turned my ‘Mech, crouching low in the water. Through the drifting tatters of smoke which masked the battlefield, I could make out four ghostly shapes lurching above frothing wakes. They were light ‘Mechs, three Stingers and a 35-ton Panther, and they were heading directly across my line-of-sight.
Their strategy was obvious. While heavier forces kept the Wolverines pinned on the shore, these four were circling through the water to close on my comrades from behind. If the Wolverines attempted to retreat into the water, they would be caught by fire from these four, thrown into confusion, their formation broken. If they stayed where they were, they would be surrounded and forced to surrender or die in a hellish crossfire.
There was little in the way of cover, here. The water was waist-deep on the ‘Mech, the bottom muddy but firm. Here and there rocks, or the remnants of trees protruded a meter or two above the surface, but there was no place for a ten-meter tall BattleMech to hide.
Or was there?
The sea covered what had been land. The Styx had once wound south across this otherwise nearly featureless plain on its way to where it had formerly entered the Thanatos Sea, ten kilometers behind me.
That river bed must still be here, somewhere, hidden by the water.
Taking a guess by following the line of what I could see of the river among the buildings to the north, I began moving towards what ought to be the river’s old banks. Sixty meters to the west, the ground dropped sharply and I nearly stumbled. That was it! Taking another two steps brought the water nearly up to my ‘Mech’s neck. With only the head and parts of the shoulders showing above water, there was a good chance that those light ‘Mechs -their attention fixed on the targets ashore rather than out to sea- would miss me.
And miss me they did. The nearest Stinger passed within one-hundred meters of my position before turning north, its Omicron 3000 laser held high and at the ready. With infinite care I shifted my Crusader back up the hidden river bank, feeling for a firm foothold. Once the ancient bank gave way in a swirl of mud, but then one foot found solid ground and I was rising from the sea like some vast, metal horror released from the depths, brown water streaming in torrents from my armor, both arms extended to bring my lasers and long-ranged missiles to bear.
4
A Blast From The Past: Battletechnology Magazine
Started by Threat Doc, Apr 12 2016 04:17 PM
44 replies to this topic
#41
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- The Bowman
- 3,715 posts
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- LocationO'Shaughnnessy MMW Base, Devon Continent, Rochester, FedCom
Posted 25 April 2016 - 07:23 AM
#42
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- The Bowman
- 3,715 posts
Member
- LocationO'Shaughnnessy MMW Base, Devon Continent, Rochester, FedCom
Posted 25 April 2016 - 11:09 AM
(NOTE: I work, tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday, so I have to get this story done, today.)
Part Eight
My first salvo burst among my unsuspecting targets like a tornado, churning geysers of steam and water skyward or striking home in flashes of light and fragmenting armor. The right rear torso of one of the Stingers disintegrated in whirling, smoldering chunks, leaving gaping loops of torn wiring and myomer sheathing.
The others turned, seeking their attacker. I fired again while they were still turning, dividing my fire between another Stinger and the Panther.
Laser fire struck the water close beside me, sending a column of steam boiling past my windshield. Another salvo of LRMs lanced out from my arms, and I saw multiple flashes snap and sparkle along the Panther’s left torso and arm.
“Red Company, this is Red Beta Three!” I yelled, continuing to trigger fire into those temptingly close-grouped targets. Another hit! And another! “I’m six-hundred meters south of you, engaging four light ‘Mechs in the water.”
A moment’s stunned silence, and then Captain Wiley replied, “Wha... MacCray? Where in the hell did you come from?”
“Never mind that!” I replied. “See if you can redeploy to help me with these people!”
One Stinger was down, now, only its head and shoulder visible above the water, and smoke was boiling from a crater in its torso right at water level. The Panther and two surviving Stingers were spreading out now to give me a more difficult target, and their return fire was beginning to fall home. My Crusader rang like a gong as an SRM smashed it square in the center torso. The Panther brought its right arm up and triggered a round from its PPC. The charge caught me in the left shoulder, staggering me back a step as blue lightning arced against the sky. My instruments went wild under the momentary havoc of the electrical overload within the Crusader’s electronics. If that had been fresh water, the charge buildup could have fried me, but it dissipated in seconds, leaving my ‘Mech wreathed in oily smoke.
I was firing my LRMs again, targeting on the Panther, watching missile after missile dissolving in light and fragments of armor. Then the enemy ‘Mech’s head blossomed open and a spindly trail of smoke arched into the sky. An instant later the Panther’s torso opened in a gout of flame. The water churned white for fifty meters in every direction under the hail of debris, and when the smoke cleared the Panther lay in two half-submerged segments. The Panther’s pilot had punched out just before his engine had blown.
That ended the first phase of the Battle of the Cerberus Complex. The surviving Stinger’s turned and ran as Adamski’s Wasp and LeClerc’s Phoenix Hawk from the Wolverine’s Recon Lance waded in from the north. By the time we rejoined the rest of the Company on dry land, the ‘Mechs which had [once] had the Wolverine’s pinned against the shore had withdrawn. Perhaps they had interpreted my arrival and the loss of two of their ‘Mechs as the approach of substantial reinforcements. On such minor misinterpretations and misperceptions turn the fate of battles... and of empires.
When our relief forces arrived two days later, we were down to four functioning ‘Mechs. Wiley’s Warhammer could barely stand, and its left arm PPC was off at the shoulder.
But we held.
Since that day, I’ve often wondered about the hand of fate in combat. If I had not had to drop out of the line of fire of that attacking Shilone, I would have dropped close by my unit, would have been able to stick close to Lieutenant Dunbar, as I’d been ordered to.
And I might well have died instead of her.
Had I not acted almost instinctively when I noticed that the water below looked “funny”, I would have braced for a water landing and smashed both legs. I would have been helpless, doomed to capture or starvation, and my comrades ashore would have been surrounded and cut down, one-by-one.
And if I’d dropped dead on target into my DZ along with my unit, those enemy ‘Mechs -they were all Fourth Proserpina Hussars, we later learned- would have had us surrounded and dead-to-rights. As I thought about it later, it occurred to me that the warrior who did the most to win the victory for us that day was that nameless Kurita Shilone pilot who had forced me to miss my DZ in the first place!
The Wolverines have another combat drop coming up soon -and by some black-humored twist of fate our target is Scheat V, yet again. Our invasion in 3026, it turned out, was short lived, brought to a close by a Kurita thrust at Xhosa VII and the failure of our drive to block Homam and Proserpina. Now, just a year later, the raids and counter-raids have reached a fever-pitch. Tensions are rising, and fleets are marshaling along the frontier in vase maneuvers designed to test and tempt the enemy. Wargames, they call them, but our orders from the Davion High Command direct the Wolverines to test Kurita’s resolve by raiding that bitter, desert-girded world of Scheat V once more. By the time this article sees print, the matter will have been resolved, one way or another.
But here, now, in the night watch of my barracks at Port Borea, the future yawns, and it is black and malevolent. I am waiting... waiting... and learning, once again, that it is the waiting which is the hardest.
But tell me, is it empty chance which rules the battlefield, or some dark and bloody God of Battle? Before my first drop on Hell, I’d never given the matter much thought. But now I see our return as a challenge flung in the teeth of chance, a black and deliberate tempting of the Hand which governs a warrior’s fate.
I dread the outcome.
I loathe the waiting.
End. Sidebar to come.
Part Eight
My first salvo burst among my unsuspecting targets like a tornado, churning geysers of steam and water skyward or striking home in flashes of light and fragmenting armor. The right rear torso of one of the Stingers disintegrated in whirling, smoldering chunks, leaving gaping loops of torn wiring and myomer sheathing.
The others turned, seeking their attacker. I fired again while they were still turning, dividing my fire between another Stinger and the Panther.
Laser fire struck the water close beside me, sending a column of steam boiling past my windshield. Another salvo of LRMs lanced out from my arms, and I saw multiple flashes snap and sparkle along the Panther’s left torso and arm.
“Red Company, this is Red Beta Three!” I yelled, continuing to trigger fire into those temptingly close-grouped targets. Another hit! And another! “I’m six-hundred meters south of you, engaging four light ‘Mechs in the water.”
A moment’s stunned silence, and then Captain Wiley replied, “Wha... MacCray? Where in the hell did you come from?”
“Never mind that!” I replied. “See if you can redeploy to help me with these people!”
One Stinger was down, now, only its head and shoulder visible above the water, and smoke was boiling from a crater in its torso right at water level. The Panther and two surviving Stingers were spreading out now to give me a more difficult target, and their return fire was beginning to fall home. My Crusader rang like a gong as an SRM smashed it square in the center torso. The Panther brought its right arm up and triggered a round from its PPC. The charge caught me in the left shoulder, staggering me back a step as blue lightning arced against the sky. My instruments went wild under the momentary havoc of the electrical overload within the Crusader’s electronics. If that had been fresh water, the charge buildup could have fried me, but it dissipated in seconds, leaving my ‘Mech wreathed in oily smoke.
I was firing my LRMs again, targeting on the Panther, watching missile after missile dissolving in light and fragments of armor. Then the enemy ‘Mech’s head blossomed open and a spindly trail of smoke arched into the sky. An instant later the Panther’s torso opened in a gout of flame. The water churned white for fifty meters in every direction under the hail of debris, and when the smoke cleared the Panther lay in two half-submerged segments. The Panther’s pilot had punched out just before his engine had blown.
That ended the first phase of the Battle of the Cerberus Complex. The surviving Stinger’s turned and ran as Adamski’s Wasp and LeClerc’s Phoenix Hawk from the Wolverine’s Recon Lance waded in from the north. By the time we rejoined the rest of the Company on dry land, the ‘Mechs which had [once] had the Wolverine’s pinned against the shore had withdrawn. Perhaps they had interpreted my arrival and the loss of two of their ‘Mechs as the approach of substantial reinforcements. On such minor misinterpretations and misperceptions turn the fate of battles... and of empires.
When our relief forces arrived two days later, we were down to four functioning ‘Mechs. Wiley’s Warhammer could barely stand, and its left arm PPC was off at the shoulder.
But we held.
* * *
Since that day, I’ve often wondered about the hand of fate in combat. If I had not had to drop out of the line of fire of that attacking Shilone, I would have dropped close by my unit, would have been able to stick close to Lieutenant Dunbar, as I’d been ordered to.
And I might well have died instead of her.
Had I not acted almost instinctively when I noticed that the water below looked “funny”, I would have braced for a water landing and smashed both legs. I would have been helpless, doomed to capture or starvation, and my comrades ashore would have been surrounded and cut down, one-by-one.
And if I’d dropped dead on target into my DZ along with my unit, those enemy ‘Mechs -they were all Fourth Proserpina Hussars, we later learned- would have had us surrounded and dead-to-rights. As I thought about it later, it occurred to me that the warrior who did the most to win the victory for us that day was that nameless Kurita Shilone pilot who had forced me to miss my DZ in the first place!
* * *
The Wolverines have another combat drop coming up soon -and by some black-humored twist of fate our target is Scheat V, yet again. Our invasion in 3026, it turned out, was short lived, brought to a close by a Kurita thrust at Xhosa VII and the failure of our drive to block Homam and Proserpina. Now, just a year later, the raids and counter-raids have reached a fever-pitch. Tensions are rising, and fleets are marshaling along the frontier in vase maneuvers designed to test and tempt the enemy. Wargames, they call them, but our orders from the Davion High Command direct the Wolverines to test Kurita’s resolve by raiding that bitter, desert-girded world of Scheat V once more. By the time this article sees print, the matter will have been resolved, one way or another.
But here, now, in the night watch of my barracks at Port Borea, the future yawns, and it is black and malevolent. I am waiting... waiting... and learning, once again, that it is the waiting which is the hardest.
But tell me, is it empty chance which rules the battlefield, or some dark and bloody God of Battle? Before my first drop on Hell, I’d never given the matter much thought. But now I see our return as a challenge flung in the teeth of chance, a black and deliberate tempting of the Hand which governs a warrior’s fate.
I dread the outcome.
I loathe the waiting.
End. Sidebar to come.
#43
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- The Bowman
- 3,715 posts
Member
- LocationO'Shaughnnessy MMW Base, Devon Continent, Rochester, FedCom
Posted 28 April 2016 - 03:20 AM
(NOTE: Alright, this is the very last entry for the story I've been sharing from BattleTechnology Issue #1 (0101))
PERSPECTIVE: A WARRIOR IN REVIEW
Captain Sinclair M. MacCray is currently unit commander of Company A (The Wolverines), Second Battalion, Deneb Light Cavalry, in service with House Davion along the Davion/Kurita Frontier.
He was born in 2999 at the Davion military garrison on Ridley IV. His father was Sergeant Randall MacCray of Company A’s Fire Lance, his mother an Astech attached to the unit’s field repair Company. A typical Mechbrat, MacCray grew up with the Wolverines. At age 10 he was formally inducted as an apprentice MechWarrior under the tutelage of the Wolverine’s Weapons Master, Koru Yamashita. In 3017 he was temporarily reassigned to the Meistmorn Academy on Doneval II, where he served as a cadet under the redoubtable Major Sergei Vang.
By the time he was 20, he was participating in raids with the unit, piloting a Stinger in the Wolverines’ Recon Lance, or serving with the company’s mobile reserve and rear echelon security.
Randall MacCray was killed in 3021, during the Kurita raid on Dobson. His Crusader, fire-blackened, its head smashed open by autocannon fire, was recovered on the field where it had fallen, together with the wreckage of two Kurita Vulcans. The salvage crews reported that one of the Vulcans had been literally torn apart in ‘Mech-to-‘Mech combat. Young Sinclair MacCray inherited his father’s Crusader and assumed the elder MacCray’s number three position in the Wolverine’s Fire Lance.
MacCray served with distinction with the Deneb Light Cavalry in numerous raids and defensive actions since 3021. His daring in close-unit actions won the notice of the regimental commander, and he was three times cited for meritorious conduct in unit dispatches. At Galtor III he attacked a damaged 80-ton Charger ‘Mech-to-‘Mech and destroyed it before [the pilot] could destroy a Davion ammunition convoy. He was awarded the Federated Suns’ Legion of the Phoenix, Second Class, for that action.
In 3026, after the action at the Cerberus Complex on Scheat V, he received a [field commission as Lieutenant] and was placed in command of the Wolverines’ Fire Lance. Less than a year later, the death of the Wolverines’ commander, Captain John C. Wiley resulted in the unit’s reorganization. MacCray was promoted to Captain and given command of the Company. At the time this article went to press, MacCray had been officially credited with a total of 17 kills and over 30 assists.
The Wolverines are currently assigned to the Davion-Kurita border, where they have been participating in Galahad ’27, the controversial series of wargames designed to test Davion military capabilities in the region.
A note from Colonel Kay Wolf, Armageddon Unlimited, ret.: You may have noted certain instances of strange numbers being used, such as MacCray’s 17 kills, and see they are incongruous with the dozens or hundreds of kills you may have made during your career with MechWarrior Online. I myself have 2,090 kills as of 1227 Hours PDT on the 25th of April 3051/2016. Let’s set the disparity to rest... while in real combat, you’re far more concerned about the outcome of a fight than you are in a simulator, such as this game is. The circumstances, including the 15-minute time-limit for PUG matches and the 45-minute time-limit for Faction matches are not nearly enough time to take into account all of the possible strategic and tactical planning, positioning, and operations required to have as few casualties as possible. For those of you who’ve read the novels for BattleTech and you’ve read about those hard-pressed hi-tempo battles, which are not the norm in the BattleTech universe, they are what happens all the time in MWO.
Remember, for fighter pilots it takes only five kills to become an ace, and that’s true in the BattleTech universe, as well, though here it would likely be more like 500 kills before you would become an ace. In MWO, you’re only tasked with figuring out the puzzle of how to best defeat your opponent(s), not with also keeping yourself and other team mates really alive. I think you would find your numbers of kills would be minuscule if you were concerned with the latter.
I have always loved the amount of detail put into these stories, and I hope you’ve enjoyed the story and, perhaps, I’ll be able to write the follow-up to this story and post it, soon.
PERSPECTIVE: A WARRIOR IN REVIEW
Captain Sinclair M. MacCray is currently unit commander of Company A (The Wolverines), Second Battalion, Deneb Light Cavalry, in service with House Davion along the Davion/Kurita Frontier.
He was born in 2999 at the Davion military garrison on Ridley IV. His father was Sergeant Randall MacCray of Company A’s Fire Lance, his mother an Astech attached to the unit’s field repair Company. A typical Mechbrat, MacCray grew up with the Wolverines. At age 10 he was formally inducted as an apprentice MechWarrior under the tutelage of the Wolverine’s Weapons Master, Koru Yamashita. In 3017 he was temporarily reassigned to the Meistmorn Academy on Doneval II, where he served as a cadet under the redoubtable Major Sergei Vang.
By the time he was 20, he was participating in raids with the unit, piloting a Stinger in the Wolverines’ Recon Lance, or serving with the company’s mobile reserve and rear echelon security.
Randall MacCray was killed in 3021, during the Kurita raid on Dobson. His Crusader, fire-blackened, its head smashed open by autocannon fire, was recovered on the field where it had fallen, together with the wreckage of two Kurita Vulcans. The salvage crews reported that one of the Vulcans had been literally torn apart in ‘Mech-to-‘Mech combat. Young Sinclair MacCray inherited his father’s Crusader and assumed the elder MacCray’s number three position in the Wolverine’s Fire Lance.
MacCray served with distinction with the Deneb Light Cavalry in numerous raids and defensive actions since 3021. His daring in close-unit actions won the notice of the regimental commander, and he was three times cited for meritorious conduct in unit dispatches. At Galtor III he attacked a damaged 80-ton Charger ‘Mech-to-‘Mech and destroyed it before [the pilot] could destroy a Davion ammunition convoy. He was awarded the Federated Suns’ Legion of the Phoenix, Second Class, for that action.
In 3026, after the action at the Cerberus Complex on Scheat V, he received a [field commission as Lieutenant] and was placed in command of the Wolverines’ Fire Lance. Less than a year later, the death of the Wolverines’ commander, Captain John C. Wiley resulted in the unit’s reorganization. MacCray was promoted to Captain and given command of the Company. At the time this article went to press, MacCray had been officially credited with a total of 17 kills and over 30 assists.
The Wolverines are currently assigned to the Davion-Kurita border, where they have been participating in Galahad ’27, the controversial series of wargames designed to test Davion military capabilities in the region.
* * *
A note from Colonel Kay Wolf, Armageddon Unlimited, ret.: You may have noted certain instances of strange numbers being used, such as MacCray’s 17 kills, and see they are incongruous with the dozens or hundreds of kills you may have made during your career with MechWarrior Online. I myself have 2,090 kills as of 1227 Hours PDT on the 25th of April 3051/2016. Let’s set the disparity to rest... while in real combat, you’re far more concerned about the outcome of a fight than you are in a simulator, such as this game is. The circumstances, including the 15-minute time-limit for PUG matches and the 45-minute time-limit for Faction matches are not nearly enough time to take into account all of the possible strategic and tactical planning, positioning, and operations required to have as few casualties as possible. For those of you who’ve read the novels for BattleTech and you’ve read about those hard-pressed hi-tempo battles, which are not the norm in the BattleTech universe, they are what happens all the time in MWO.
Remember, for fighter pilots it takes only five kills to become an ace, and that’s true in the BattleTech universe, as well, though here it would likely be more like 500 kills before you would become an ace. In MWO, you’re only tasked with figuring out the puzzle of how to best defeat your opponent(s), not with also keeping yourself and other team mates really alive. I think you would find your numbers of kills would be minuscule if you were concerned with the latter.
I have always loved the amount of detail put into these stories, and I hope you’ve enjoyed the story and, perhaps, I’ll be able to write the follow-up to this story and post it, soon.
Edited by Kay Wolf, 28 April 2016 - 03:21 AM.
#44
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- Urban Commando
- 1,622 posts
Member
- LocationNorway
Posted 28 April 2016 - 03:56 AM
Awesome work, Kay. Loved Reading that story again. Seem to remember there was some nice art attached to it as well, such as one piece with MacCray's Crusader wading in the shallow water after completing the drop.
One of my favourite BattleTechnology stories, really. Issue (I think) 0102 had two stories I loved as well. Another one from the Scheat V conflict featuring a Thunderbolt and a Marauder and one a light lance (Panther, Urbanmech, Stinger and one other I don't remember) ambushing an Atlas in a claustrophobic city environment. Loved those.
One of my favourite BattleTechnology stories, really. Issue (I think) 0102 had two stories I loved as well. Another one from the Scheat V conflict featuring a Thunderbolt and a Marauder and one a light lance (Panther, Urbanmech, Stinger and one other I don't remember) ambushing an Atlas in a claustrophobic city environment. Loved those.
#45
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- The Bowman
- 3,715 posts
Member
- LocationO'Shaughnnessy MMW Base, Devon Continent, Rochester, FedCom
Posted 28 April 2016 - 02:51 PM
Steinar Bergstol, on 28 April 2016 - 03:56 AM, said:
Awesome work, Kay. Loved Reading that story again. Seem to remember there was some nice art attached to it as well, such as one piece with MacCray's Crusader wading in the shallow water after completing the drop.
Quote
One of my favourite BattleTechnology stories, really. Issue (I think) 0102 had two stories I loved as well. Another one from the Scheat V conflict featuring a Thunderbolt and a Marauder and one a light lance (Panther, Urbanmech, Stinger and one other I don't remember) ambushing an Atlas in a claustrophobic city environment. Loved those.
I don't know when I will email Randall, again, but perhaps this coming week, as I only work two days.
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