15 replies to this topic

[Aranzor]

Please only submit completed stories to this thread.

Any questions or other comments should go to this thread:

http://mwomercs.com/...-cyclops-event/

[Highlighter]

Notes:
As of 5/8/16, I edited this entry to revise grammar issues and to add an ending that fit the entry requirements.

Additionally, some stats for the Cyclops are below:

Model: Cyclops - Honor
Armor: Standard: 10.0 tons
Structure: Standard
Movement: 4/6/0
Cockpit: Command Console
Heat Sinks (Double): 15 (30)
LA: Medium Laser
LT: LRM-10
LT: Ammo (LRM) 24 (2 tons)
RT: ER-PPC
RT: ER-PPC
RT: Double Heat Sink
RA: Medium Laser

Story Title: Honor
Word Count: 1421

When he was but a child, Sotan Araki had asked his father how a rice cooker worked. His father, looking up from the reports littering his desk, had given his son a tired sigh and explained patiently that a rice cooker combines heat and pressure to quickly cook the rice held within. The device raises the water's boiling temperature by increasing the atmospheric pressure, thus decreasing cooking time. It had been a fascinating concept to the young Sotan, and he had thanked his father.

That had been years ago. Over two decades ago. So many events had transpired since then. Elementary school. High School. The Sun Zhang Mechwarrior Academy. It was a memory that the now-Chu-i had long forgotten, but it now reemerged to the forefront of his mind. Why now, Sotan Araki was not sure, but perhaps it was his present situation.

He was now the rice and the BattleMech cockpit was the rice cooker.

Chu-i Sotan Araki pulled at the sluggish controls, gasping for air as the heat flooding from the deck plates of the cockpit threatened to roast him. The massive assault 'Mech struggled to respond, as the heat from the cracked fusion engine shield turned the normally nimble Cyclops into a much more ponderous machine. But even as he labored to drag the 'Mech behind the relative safety of a crumbling warehouse, Sotan knew that the blistering temperatures were the least of his problems. The heat he could deal with. His missile ammunition was exhausted, so there was no chance for an errant cook-off to end his life. A brief pause in the fighting would allow his double-strength freezers to bring the temperatures down, if just slightly. But the bigger issue was the pressure, the pressure that rested on his shoulders and lay slumped over the primary controls of the dual-cockpit Cyclops.

Sho-sa Tanosuke Araki.

His father.

Blood was splattered against the shattered ferro-glass shield. Sotan couldn't see any of his father's injuries, but the limp form and the life sign monitors and the ringing in his ears told him the full story. The sho-sa's decades of glorious service to the Dragon was at an end. An alien raider's autocannon had seen to that. The ballistic weapon had spat a storm of razored metal, and some of the angry flechettes had penetrated the cockpit armor to find their way into the soft flesh of the Combine officer.

There was no time to grieve. The cockpit temperatures had seen that no tears would seep from Sotan's eyes. Plus, his father would have disapproved. His father was samurai and he was samurai. He had a duty to the Dragon, to his unit, to his family. It was his duty to carry on, even as his father and commanding officer fell.

Seeing that the heat indicator was now in the yellow range instead of the red range, Sotan pushed the throttle forward. Honor, the name his father had given the family's modified Cyclops, lumbered out from behind the warehouse and spun on its right foot. The Chu-i had already centered the crosshairs on where he guessed the raider might be, and when the his HUD glowed gold, he squeezed the triggers.

The dual extended-ranged PPCs, mounted in place of the Cyclops's usual assault autocannon, discharged their man-made lightning down range. Sotan gasped as a new blast of heat seared the air from his lungs but he kept his crosshairs on-target and added a salvo from his arm-mounted medium lasers.

The combined energy assault blasted into the raider 'Mech's chest. The huge machine, something Honor's battle computer tagged as a Gladiator, staggered and took a step back to steady itself. Thick black smoke poured from the impact craters, and the enemy 'Mech glowed brightly under Sotan's infrared display.

The radio crackled to life and a foreign voice sounded in Sotan's ears. "Good shooting, Sho-sa. You have cracked my engine's shielding. You impress me. But it will not be enough."

Sotan winced as the Gladiator's return fire stripped all of the remaining armor from Honor's chest. It was all he could do to keep the Cyclops on its feet and twist it back behind the cover of the warehouse.

"Your 'Mech is dying, Sho-sa," the raider taunted. "You have fought hard and I would be honored to take you as bondsman. Why do you keep fighting?"

Running an experienced eye over his computer monitors, Sotan ground out a response. "I fight because of duty. Because of honor." The news was bad. Honor was dying around him. Its chest was completely bare of armor. Its engine shielding was just about gone and one of its PPCs had been destroyed under the Gladiator's barrage. He was lucky the cannon's capacitors hadn't discharged into the bowels of his 'Mech.

The raider's response came after a pause. "You are not Sho-sa Tanosuke Araki, yet you pilot his Cyclops. Who are you?"

"I am Chu-i Sotan Araki. Sho-sa Aruki was my father." His eyes settled on a secondary display, the one showing the readouts from the Tacticon B-2000's seismic sensor. "You have slain him, but I will redeem his honor. I will defeat you, raider, and drive you from this world."

"I see." Another pause. "Very well, Chu-i Sotan Araki. I, Star Commander Axunari of Clan Ghost Bear, extend my honorable duel with Sho-sa Tanosuke Araki to you. Let none interfere with our battle!"

Sotan didn't reply. He didn't care what the raider said. Instead, he continued to watch the seismic sensor even as the tremors from the Gladiator's thundering footfalls told him what he needed to know. He counted to ten and then throttled forward.

The fearsome skull-mask of the Ghost Bear Gladiator filled his view as Sotan spun Honor from behind the warehouse. He had no time to think or to register the flash of Star Commander Axunari's assault autocannon. All he had time for was to finger the triggers to his remaining ER-PPC and medium lasers.

And to ball the Cyclops's massive right battle fist and send it slamming into the gigantic target that was the Gladiator's hideous face.

*+*+*+*

Star Captain Axunari Kabrinski held the small pewter model in steady fingers and blinked the memories away. His hand no longer trembled at the recollection of that battle. His arm no longer twitched in pain from the multiple compound fractures. He no longer winced at the thought of the recovery from the battle of Alshain.

"Are you well?" came the voice to his left. It was soft, gentle.

The Clan warrior smiled again. "Yes, Jenna."

The blonde-haired woman turned from Axunari and back to the shelf. "So that's the tale behind this particular miniature?"

Axunari nodded. "It is. Chu-i Araki was a spectacular warrior. The honor he showed his father, my first opponent, was quite rare even among the Clans. It was only by sheer luck that I escaped that duel with my life." He started to return the miniature to its brethren, but Jenna's hand stopped him.

She turned the small model over in her hand, examining its features. "And that is why you added his 'Mech to your Great Work?" A nod from the Ghost Bear. "This isn't a standard Cyclops, is it? It looks different."

Arcing a brow, Axunari glanced at Jenna, searching her face for something. "Your attention to detail is stunning."

"I am a doctor, you know," the woman replied, fake offense in her voice.

Bowing his head in apology, Axunari said, "This is true. But, you are correct. Chu-i Araki's Cyclops was not a standard configuration. It was modified to include a command console so that his father could direct the battle. Its assault autocannon was also replaced by a pair of extended-range particle cannons. I believe the remaining mass had been devoted to heat sinks."

Jenna nodded her understanding and placed the Cyclops on the shelf next to a Banshee and Warhammer. "So configured as a command 'Mech. What happened to the pilot? Sotan Araki?"

"The Chu-i survived the battle. His father did not." Axunari paused, remembering the Combine officer. "I took Sotan as bondsman. For the last several years, he has been assigned to Alshain to integrate the population into the Dominion."

"I see," was Jenna's response. There was a brief pause as both Warrior and physician regarded the wall of miniature BattleMechs. "And you said the Cyclops was named Honor? That's very fitting."

"Indeed," Star Captain Axunari Kabrinski said with a smile. "It is a fitting name for the Cyclops and the Araki family. Honor."

Edited by Highlighter, 08 May 2016 - 10:11 AM.

[Odanan]

The Blind Eye

3047, Planet Wing, Free Worlds League



Hauptmann Karl Weiner watched the two pings at the radar screen.

The campaign on Wing was almost over now. After months of guerrilla warfare, his regiment, the 17th Arcturian Guards of House Steiner, was hunting down the last defenders on the planet.

After some disastrous defeats at the beginning of the invasion, and with no chance of receiving reinforcements or supplies due to the planet’s blockade, the Leaguers had resort to a painful guerrilla war. They employed hit and run tactics, and when their ‘mechs and conventional combat vehicles were crippled or damaged beyond repair, they resorted to sabotage.

But finally the last resistance on the planet was been cleaned up, and the most dangerous detachment of the 30th Marik Militia, the “Speed Devils”, was on the run, chased by fresh Steiner units 3,000 km North, at the hot equatorial savannas. If this threat were eliminated, the battle for Wing would be over.

The Lyran navy had just finished to secretly unload a large cache of ammo, rations, spare parts and fuel at the main base. These would put the invaders in a very comfortable position and ensure the conclusion of the campaign.

Unfortunately, for the last 40 days, lone snipers harassed the Lyran base with impunity. One of those sneaky rogues was a Cicada medium ‘mech, armed with a long range Particle Projectile Cannon. It usually shot from the suburban hills of the now abandoned city of Absaroka. Even after the Lyran effort to demolish all buildings around the occupied spaceport, there were still many ruins a small ‘mech could use to hide. Firing from 1km away, the damn sniper wasn't doing much damage, but it affected the garrison’s morale nonetheless. And now things were different: with so much fuel and ammo stocked in the base, even a long shot from nowhere could be harmful.

There was no question the sharpshooter mechwarrior was good. He was patient, cautious and unpredictable. He never shot twice from the same place and kept radar on passive mode, which helped him to escape from every patrol sent to find him.

Until now. The new sensors installed just yesterday were powerful enough to pick up the faint signals of the snipers. It was time to finally deal with them.

Karl’s orders were to defend the supply depot until the main forces arrived at the end of the day. He had a compliment of one company and two lances, mostly composed of heavy and medium ‘mechs. This alone should be enough to obliterate all the remaining Marik forces in the region. But “defend” was somewhat subjective in Karl’s opinion. He didn’t need to keep all the ‘mechs sitting inside the base while terrorists freely harassed from outside.

He was also bored, actually. Half a year on this planet and he barely saw action. Karl piloted a Cyclops CP-10-Z, a rare command battlemech, still equipped with a functional Tacticon B-2000 battle computer from the Star League times. The machine carried a good short range armament, but was not designed for heavy combat, and thus sported a thin armor for its weight class. His family called it "The Sentinel”, and it was in the hands of the house Weiner for more than 200 years. Each firstborn son left his kill marks just outside the cockpit. It was time for Karl to leave his own marks.

He selected 3 of his pals from the academy: Kerr piloted a Griffin, Milford a Commando and Darcy a Locust. He would hunt down the sniper and finally have his piece of action before the war ended.

***

“He is still at Charlie Thirteen. Keep the encircling movement. Point 1, reduce to half speed or you will blow the trap.” Said Hauptmann Karl Weiner with the low pitch “commanding voice” he was training. “These kids are sharp, but hard to control”, thought Karl while he examined his holographic battlemap, reading the detailed position of the allied ‘mechs. By now, he could proudly say he had mastered the Tacticon B-2000: a skill that would help him to easily climb the ranks of the LCAF...

Karl’s Cyclops was not the most sluggish of the assault ‘mechs. Sporting a huge Hermes 360 engine, it reached 64 km/h, something impressive for a 90 tons machine. Generally the mech could outrun what it couldn't outgun. Still, the rubble on the streets forced him to slow down and choose were to step carefully in his way to investigate the place where the second signal last showed.

Suddenly, the Cicada on the radar started to move fast. “Damn, he is running away!”, said Karl out loud, but forgetting to open the radio. He quickly toggled the button for lance channel: “He is trying to get away. Forget the trap, full speed, boys! I will buy a beer for the one who kills the *******.”

As his subordinates engaged the Cicada, the radio channel was flooded with excited chatter. This was especially annoying for someone who needed to keep contact with worldwide communications. “We will really need to work that radio discipline when this is over”, muttered Karl to himself. But his line of thought was cut down when he saw a glimpse of an enemy ‘mech behind a semi-destroyed building. "No sign on the radar, it must be shut down", concluded Karl with a grin.

“Shoot him! Shoot him!” came the voice on the comms. “Don’t let him escape!” It were Leutnant Darcy and First Leutnant Milford, polluting the channels.

“God damned, I can’t deal with this right now.” Karl turned off his radio and readied his ‘mech. In no time, the enemy started his machine. Karl’s sensors quickly locked on the target: it was a Wolverine, a 55 tons ‘mech.

“Good, I won't come home empty handed”, thought Karl. The hud showed the Wolverine's internal structure was already damaged and Karl realized, with some disappointment, that the mech was repaired only enough to make it operational. "Hell, better than nothing."

The Wolverine activated its jumpjets, rising about 50 meters above the cover and releasing a barrage of short range missiles.

Only a few hit the Cyclops and Karl checked the armor status: holding well. “You will need more than that to hurt me”, he said aloud, firing his own short range weapons and maneuvering. The lasers and SRMs found the target, but the projectile of his primary weapon, a massive Zeus-36 assault autocannon, just passed at the enemy's right side, pulverizing an old brick office behind.

Shortly blinded by the cloud of dirt, Karl felt his mech shaking by the impact of a light bore autocannon’s rounds, followed by another salvo of SRMs. “Armor still good, but that’s enough of a souvenir. Now I will teach you.” The Wolverine, caught in a bad place, was twisting and trying to retreat. Karl fired once again all weapons except the long range missiles. The emerald beams of his Type 20 lasers sliced through the enemy’s armor, severing the target’s right arm while the SRMs exploded all over the Wolverine’s back, leaving red-hot holes. But once again, his main gun didn’t connect.

By this time Karl was feeling the heat building up inside his cockpit. By shooting too many weapons in so short time, the Cyclops engine was taxed beyond the safety levels.

The Wolverine twisted his torso and lousily shot its remaining weapons, but missed all. It sped up and Karl saw the jump jet exhausters lighting. “Oh no, you are not getting away!” Karl kept his target following the ascending mech, and when his weapons recycled, he let the autocannon roar. The shot hit the Wolverine in the back, making it explode 30 meters above the ground, releasing shrapnel all over the street.

He did it. Karl waited a few moments, enjoying his first kill. He turned on the radio, ready to start bragging, but was flooded by a dozen voices. “They are everywhere!” “…need help!” “…air support! “Boss, where are you?”

What’s happening? Were they under attack? It couldn’t be, the perimeter sensors showed no movement in a diameter of 3 kilometers!

And then, he saw the smoke trails in the sky. His computer showed about two dozen enemy ‘mechs being released from dropships just above the base. God, the supplies.

He saw a Leopard class dropship in Marik’s colors taking hits and falling. A huge explosion made the nearby buildings tremble. Karl continued to move his ‘mech toward the base. There was a cloud of black smoke rising from the depots.

On the chaos of the radio chatter, he could barely understand his men asking for orders. He turned off the radio once more and headed to the huge flames. Oh boy, he was in trouble.

Sources:

Spoiler

For the story:
17th Arcturan Guards
30th Marik Militia
Planet Wing
Cyclops mech

For the image:
Background image
Cyclops concept art
My repaint template
Camo pattern

Edited by Odanan, 15 May 2016 - 02:00 AM.
Revised and improved text. Thanks to Aeglos and Ibrandul Mike for corrections.

[Blind Baku]

Within the Ice Mining Facility FR-2894, “Janesville”
Xanthe III
Free World League
February 10 3037

Col. Amir Halas stalked through the rubble of a once thriving industrial center, now void of its mining and life. Crumbling around him as the century old battlemech, Destrier, pushed up to the corner of a shattered power plant.

Pausing to listen to the mining center’s ghosts… memories of the days following the death of Captain-General Duncan Marik.

“Sir, the repairs ‘re almost done” the once young bright eyed tech managed. How quickly the green sparkle had been stripped from her eyes. “I ‘pologize f’r how much we’ve had ta gut the Destr’r ta get h’r runnin’ again. The repairs should allow more flex’bility for ya though, less ammo depen’ent. We had ta remove the fracked autocannon from the torso, in the process we discovered the arm was broke beyon’ field repairs. Replac’ng it was a hard ’nough but we rigged a good main gun, courtesy of those frackin’ Aud'riens! Took it from that scrapped Awesome! The same as fracked up yer right arm! We had patched over must of the missile tubes, not that it matters, we ain’t missiles ta go around, just sayin’, sir. Yer prolly jus’ gonna have ta do without them for now.”

Col. Amir Halas and his Fletcher’s Fusiliers had been fighting a retreating, gorilla, campaign for months now, the promised relief from those blasted Leaguers never came, you’d think being blood to the famed Halas family, even distantly, would stand for something, let alone the Captain-General’s personal pull within the Free Worlds League. Now supplies were low, most equipment was bashed together like a Solaris jocks nightmare.

Of his full company only three lances remained. The speed and skill with which his techs had cobbled together a fighting force out of those mechs that where mostly in one piece was astounding, but necessity is the mother of invention.

“Sir,” the communications specialist in his command console’s secondary cockpit chimed in, dispelling his thoughts like smoke “the Tacticon is picking up unknowns, inbound tacking Beta 4 – Charlie 5.”

“Thank you, lieutenant” Halas replied. “Radio Bravo lance, tell them to set up in Echo 6, to poke and fade at will, good trades only, energy’s only, we’re too low on munitions for anything else right now. Once they’re set up get Charlie ready to drop in near Delta 5 – 6, Bravo should have done some damage by then”

Thumbing his own com stud, “Alpha lance, with me, keep cover and within Stomper’s ECM umbrella. Once Bravo starts pour the blues on them we’re going to add some heat from our angles, and press in to support Charlie once the brawl breaks out… and Stomper… don’t go stompin’ off early this time.” He smiled wryly as he pictured the poor corporal’s face.

“Sir, Bravo lance has engaged” his lieutenant cut in

“Wait for it…” the red arrows moved through the consol’s HUD, “Now! Push out Alpha! Round on them now and listen for targets!” Amir bellowed into the coms as his tattered Cyclops pondered out of cover to see the enemy lance. “Primary is Raven, designation ‘Alpha’, once he’s down their ECM will fall. Secondary is going to be hunchback, designation beta, watch out for that autocannon...” the trap sprung, the tones of ferro, engines, heat and decimation danced to the staccato and pulse.

After the dust had settled, Col. Amir Halas had not lost a single one of his pilots in the skirmish. They had lost one mech, but had captured 4 enemy pilots, and salvage enough to fight on another day. From the enemy salvage they were able to glean intel on enemy locations and the blockade that had kept the Leaguer reinforcements at bay, the intel looked good though, the blockade was starting to crumble.

“Lieutenant, it looks like we only need to keep this up a while longer. My distant cousin is sending aid.”

The lieutenant’s face was worn, but a glimmer of a smile lurked as he looked up from his calibrations on the worn but invaluable console.

“Sir, I was listening to the enemy combatants, seems your Destrier, is some kind of monster, all of our irregular’s are. The way they talk about your Battlemech, sir, a specter orchestrating death and destruction, we’ve got them good and scared, sir.”

“Yes, she has become something of a Nightmare.” Col. Halas, smiled darkly.

--------------------------

Cyclops “Nightmare”

Originally a standard Cyclops chassis of nominal distinction that fell into the armory of House Halas, and through the course of generations to Col. Amir Halas. After the battle of Xanthe III, during the Andurian Secession Crisis the Nightmare, formerly known as the Destrier, was permanently altered keeping a patched together look, the right arm and Kreuss PPCs, taken from an enemy Awesome, an additional PPC was installed in lieu of the normal torso mounted autocannon and some of the missile launchers.

The unusual load out that was far less ammo dependent combined with the Cyclops’ advanced computer allowed it to serve with distinction during the counter attack campaigns as the factions of the sphere reeled from the explosive clan invasions. The combination of range and coordination allowed the mercenaries of Fletcher’s Fusiliers to often exploit the zellbrigen tactics, in favor of a more focused, if ‘underhanded’ attack pattern.
All research done through Sarna
Edit for a code error

Edited by Blind Baku, 05 May 2016 - 02:03 PM.

[Akillius]

***\Log excerpts from Merchant Jumpship SplashRunner, year 3047, at zenith jump point for planet Poulsbo\***



The shock on Max Rickson's face was plainly visible as Paul Zardotta's tall, muscular frame gracefully stepped through the docking hatch. Paul let slip a tiny smile and extended his hand. "Permission to come aboard Captain?" Max smiled broadly as the two men firmly shook hands. "Permission granted. And I sure didn't expect the LCAF to send you." Paul laughed warmly. "Oh for this deal, I requested to personally inspect everything." Max motioned to the tall, lanky man with sandy blonde hair standing patiently in the corridor behind him. "This is Scott, he's second-in-command of this jumpship and captain of the Trojan dropship you passed when your K1 drop-shuttle came into dock." Paul quickly introduced 4 Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces (LCAF) personnel coming through the hatch just behind him. All 4 were technicians, and judging by their rank really good techs. After the introductions, Max's guests were semi-casually looking past him down the long connecting corridor at the opposite docking collar's hatch painted a deep-red and black. It was the unmistakable bold emblem of the Draconis Combine on the docking hatch of an ancient Leopard dropship. "Follow me." Max said while turning and walking down the spartan corridor towards the distant hatch. "We tried to patch any damage that looked deep even though nothing punctured through, regardless it's held pressure for a month now." And when Max finished speaking he almost chuckled aloud on noticing that Scott's long stride already had him leading the group. "Any damage inside the brick?" a short dark haired tech asked. The brick was a nickname for Leopard class dropships due to their blocky appearance. "Well, the interior damage is mostly small pockmarks on the walls past the hatchway. As far as we can tell nothing vital was damaged and it's basically cosmetic." Scott reached the hatchway controls first and with practiced ease he opened the hatch while Max sidestepped and gestured with a hand motion for Paul and his techs to board the Leopard first. As Paul started to board the dropship that's the moment it really hit Max how important a salvage it truly was. The 3rd Lyran Guards sent their Leutnant-Colonel to personally confirm and inspect the venerable Draconis dropship and mechs, especially the 1 mech...

Several seconds later Paul let out a loud whistle of surprise from the cargo-hold which broke Max's dumbfounded moment just in time to watch the 4 technicians eagerly jostling to see past Paul. Then each tech would suddenly stop moving, as if they'd walked into a mysterious invisible paralyzing force. Paul's head swung back towards the hatch. "Max! You're right, that Cyclops looks the real deal!" Max saw Paul's big smile and eyes wide and glimmering like a child at Christmas time. Then Paul turned back to look at the mech and sucked in air like he was about to blow out birthday candles "Yes sir! I'm sure glad it was you that found that beast. Wow!!!" Noticing his motionless techs still looking in awe at the Cyclops Paul quipped. "Well what are you all waiting for? Let's find out what still works!" And with their reverie broken, 3 of the techs rushed towards the Cyclops. The short 4th tech turned around started walking past Max and Scott. Scott said to the tech "Hey I'll come with in case you want to know anything we fixed or did." The tech nodded and they walked towards the dropship's cockpit chatting about how the partial docking collar was removed. Meanwhile Paul was observing the Cyclops and how it was painted maroon, with a few black and green stripes. There was no pilot name on it and no unit ID either, only the Draconis Combine emblem of a black dragon on red background could easily be seen in a few places. Then Paul had a vision of it painted with randomly shaped and sized sections for camouflage. Done in three colors of battleship gray, dark green, and mustard yellow. A few randomly sized oddly shaped yellow spots on the green sections would give it a sun dappled look. Also some green spots on the yellow sections, but both yellow and green spots on the gray sections.

Inhaling deeply Paul pushed aside his dreams of a more desirable paint job and took notice how oddly equipped the Cyclops was. It’s loadout was completely unlike the few Cyclops he’d seen or any that he read about. To start with there appeared to be a jump jet on each leg. Far up on the left torso was the missile launcher but a gauss rifle barrel jutted out from it. The right torso had a small Autocannon2 and it’s upper portion held the unmistakable antennas for electronic counter measures. Even more oddly were the pairs of small lasers in both arms, the side torsos and the center torso. But the cyclops didn’t look like it was retrofitted or jury rigged in any way. In fact it reminded him of how new custom-made mechs looked when they came straight from the factory. And Paul started to hope the techs wouldn’t find the model# for it so he could use his initials to name it the CP10-PZ. But it was crazy to daydream over a mech that might not even power up so Paul looked at Max and said. "Well just seeing that Cyclops has made my trip here worthwhile, but let's look at the others too." Max quickly nodded and they both walked past the cyclops and perhaps another twenty feet farther into the cargo hold. There stood another mech that was small and fragile looking but was a highly unusual and near-priceless 'Wasp LAM' (Land Air Mech). Since it's both a land mech and an air mech it was often called a jack of all trades and master of none. An oddity many thought to be worth more on display in museums then out on battlefields. The two men then filed past the Wasp LAM to the cargo bay's wall, then turned left and followed the corridor to enter the other half of the cargo bay which was behind the Cyclops and Wasp LAM. The next mech was a common Rifleman with 2 very long barrels for each arm, it was obviously the anti-aircraft support for the Cyclops. Silently both men walked towards the last mech, an extremely rare Thunder Hawk. The heaviest any mech could be was 100 tons. And like the older Atlas and Mackie mechs before it, the Thunder Hawk also weighed 100 tons. Very few were made since it was only in production starting in 2771 for perhaps 10 years before it's factory was destroyed. They were once prized by the Lyran Royal Guards for its trio of Gauss Rifles and array of lasers which made Thunder Hawks a powerhouse of sheer destruction. It would be a real prize for any army unit to own by itself, but finding this Thunder Hawk would pale by comparison if the neighboring Cyclops was functional and with a working Tacticon B-2000 battle computer. As Paul gazed at the Thunder Hawk he said "Everything looks in pristine condition. Perfectly preserved by the near-vacuum of space." Max replied "True. I imagine all these mechs were headquarters support for the commander of that Cyclops." Paul nodded in agreement before they started walking towards the smaller cargo storage areas.

The two men were still inspecting the cargo of spare parts when the short tech found them. "Sir I've reviewed the logs.", "Good." Paul replied "So how did this Draconis dropship end up in Free Worlds League space near Campoleone with a Cyclops aboard?". Nervously the tech shifted his electronic notepad to his other hand "Sir before Captain Max's salvage this year, this Leopard was last powered in 2798." The tech took a deep breath "It left planet Sendai and 11 days later docked with an unregistered Invader class Jumpship that wasn't transmitting any ID code. But here's the catch, it wasn't at a known jump point." Paul and Max's both raised their eyebrows in surprise. "The Leopard was docked a few hours, then put on maintenance cycle. A few minutes after that the docking hatch was closed from the jumpship's side and wasn't opened again for 6 days just after a jump." Paul interrupted "So unregistered at unknown jump point, huh. Was there any other dropships docked?" Eagerly the tech replied "Two dropships! An Union class transmitting Draconis ID, and Intruder class with no ID." Bristling with curiosity Max inquired "So how many jumps after docking?" The tech paused, glancing back and forth at both men then hurriedly saying "Only 1 jump, but it took 1 hour 16 minutes to complete. And at the same moment when the jump finishes someone inside the jumpship opened the Leopard's hatch. Seconds later the docking collar and all K-F Booms simultaneously lose power and the air pressure immediately drops to zero." Paul muttered under his breath "Misjump." Oblivious, the tech kept talking. "Five months later the Leopard automatically entered a deep power saving mode that lasted 249 years." Off in thought Paul said "Thank you." and made a small half-nod. "Sir, I'll inspect other ship's systems now." Absent-mindedly Paul half nods again, and the tech turns and briskly walks away.

With blank expressions both men wordlessly finished inspecting cargo areas, then the 2 aerospace fighters, a Sabre, and Corsair. Afterwards they returned to the main cargo bay and stood looking at the Cyclops again when one of the techs called out "Sir this Cyclops is the real deal." His voice traveling down from the mech's cockpit. "But it's mint there's no damage, no jury rigged repairs, nothing! It's factory fresh!" With a big grin Paul slowly nodded listening to his tech. From the mech's waist area a deep-voiced tech said "I think the engine is operational and still has some Protium too." Immediately the voice of the cockpit tech floats down again "So, sir can we fire it up?" and Paul quickly replied "Yes!" A moment later the deep whirl and hum could be heard of the big fusion engine coming to life deep within the ancient Cyclops. Then came the eerie creaks and groans of a mech long disused coming back to life. An arm moved up then down, then the other arm did the same. A leg moved up and back down again, then repeated by the other leg. The massive Cyclops head turned up and away from the two men, then down and toward them with its cockpit looking like an all-seeing eye, ominously searching. Paul yelled. "Get me those logs ASAP!" The tech replied "Yes sir!" The head re-centered itself and the mech became motionless while the Cyclops still hummed with life. After a minute or so it was noticeably heating the cargo hold. Scott entered the cargo bay and stood back with Max and Paul to look at the Cyclops. The tech's voice called out "Sir this mech's computer is very different. But I can see it was last powered up on Sendai 2798 and..." the tech's voice trailed off. Paul called out "What? WHAT?" The techs sheepish reply was a barely audible "Sir uh... wasn't that the year of the Sendai massacre?"

The 3 men in the cargo bay were looking at each other with mixed expressions of confusion, uncertainty, and grimness.
No one moved or even breathed for a what seemed an eternity. It was only a few moments and yet the silence was deafening. The silence was broken by the tech. "Ah ha! I understand this now. The last power up was only a few minutes on Sendai when loaded in this dropship and there was several Endrai Light Horse mechs nearby. Looks like the 3 mechs with us now were already aboard." Pausing only to take a breath the tech continued. "The previous power up was 14 days before that on Sendai in training maneuvers with a lot of other Draconis Combine mechs. And each power up before that was about month apart, each time for training exercises but I’ve only skimmed back to 2797." Paul looked up towards the Cyclops' eye and loudly commented. "That sounds like this Cyclops didn't take part in Draconis Combine's massacre of Eridani Light Horse's dependents on Sendai." Paul glanced over at Scott and Max. "And I'm thinking this dropship and mechs was the prized loot taken after Endrai Light Horse's retaliation." Scott piped up "Did Endrai have any unregistered jumpships or did they use pirates???" After a moment Paul said "I don't recall hearing of any Endrai Light Horse unit using either. But back then maybe they had an unregistered for secret operations." Max nodded. "Yeah 2798 that's early years of first succession war, and back then anything goes." Paul nodded in agreement saying “Also without a unit or pilot name on that Cyclops I wonder if it had once been part of Draconis Combine’s black ops.”

"Sir!" The tech called out "The B2000 command computer is actually fully operational and it's amazing! The command roster has spots for up to 900 mechs plus support vehicles, troop regiments, aerofighters, dropships, and displays it all in real-time 3D holographic mapping." Paul was grinning as he turned to look at Max. "You wanted 30 million C-Bills for that Cyclops if fully operational." Pausing dramatically. "Hmmm, it is a factory fresh and probably SLDF grade Cyclops... Mmmmm, yeah Sold!" Max beamed. "Glad to hear it Paul, just hope someone can paint 3rd Lyran Guards over those dark Draconis colors." Paul laughed deeply. "Oh I think we can manage." Behind the 3 men in the cargo bay stood the primeval and mountainous Cyclops looming in the warm, cramped cargo bay of the dropship. It rumbled deeply and occasionally creaked or groaned like some prehistoric monster patiently lurking. Like a Cyclops from ancient Terran legends that was biding it's time to strike with certain death upon all its massive eye looked upon once again.





FACT CHECKS:

Spoiler

Contains 2344 words, plus fact checks

Spelling for Paul Zardotta - Soon to be a Marshal & the Commanding Officer of the 3rd Lyran Guards RCT
http://www.sarna.net...uards#3050-3054

Spelling for a LCAF's Leutnant-Colonel confirmed http://www.sarna.net...Senior_Officers

Checked Tacticon B-2000 stats: holographic display, commands 900mechs+support across surface of an entire world
ref: Brigade = 3-5 Regiments & 1Regiment = 108 up to 180 mechs(3-5 Battalions) +support battalions (ie. troops, etc.)
http://www.sarna.net...s_and_Equipment

Time line: “held pressure for a month” is travel from planet Campoleone(already charged) to Poulsbo in possibly 4 jumps (Campoleone > Niops VI > Huntington > Sierra > Poulsbo) & using sails to recharge would take approximately 27 days.
http://www.sarna.net...rive_recharging

*Max Rickson was my pilot name since starting pen-and-paper battletech approximately 1985
[Combo: Bill Maxwell (The Greatest American Hero), Rick Deckard (Blade Runner), Mel Gibson + Mad Max (orig.)]

**The Merchant ship's name SplashRunner I also used since mid 1980’s back when battletech portrayed water as scarce and fought over, also inspired by Bertram Chandler's use of rimrunner in his John Grimes series of novels.


Editted May 9, 2016
The Cyclops loadout is possible without ammo. I realized that in my haste I used clan weight. Full (revised) specs are below.

Cyclops (Variant Unknown) suggesting: CP10-PZ
TONNAGE 90
ENGINE 360 XL
TOP SPEED 64.8 kph
MAX ENGINE RATING 400
ARMOR 544 Standard
INTERNAL STRUCTURE Endo-Steel
HEAT SINKS 12 Double
JUMP JETS 2 (4 Max)
ECM Capable Yes
MASC Capable No

WEAPONS AND EQUIPMENT
Head Gauss Ammo
Left Arm Small Laser x2
Left Torso Gauss Rifle, Small Laser x2
Center Torso Engine, Small Laser x2
Right Torso AC/2, AC/2 Ammo x2, Guardian ECM, Small Laser x2
Right Arm Small Laser x2
Left Leg Jump Jet, Gauss Ammo
RIGHT Leg Jump Jet, Gauss Ammo

HARDPOINTS
HEAD -
LEFT ARM 2 Energy (Actuators: Upper, Lower, Hand)
LEFT TORSO 1 Ballistic, 2 Energy, 2 Missile, 1 AMS
CENTER TORSO 2 Energy
Right Torso 2 Ballistic, 2 Energy, 1 Missile, 1 AMS, 1 ECM
RIGHT Arm 2 Energy (Actuators: Upper, Lower, Hand)


Editted May 10, 2016
Did fast and rough mock up images of both patterns.

Edited by Max Rickson, 10 May 2016 - 08:28 AM.

[BZArcher]

In 2941 agents operating on behalf of Captain-General Samuel Marik convinced Vincente Sian-Marik to sign a treaty with the Free Worlds League transferring his allegiance and those of the worlds he administered to the League. In addition to being the planetary administrator of Kyrkbacken, Ohrensen, Suzano, Ventabren and Zion, Sian-Marik was a distant relative of the Marik line; while the CCAF garrisons on the five worlds didn't try to resist the transfer of worlds, they did engage in widespread scorched-earth operations on each world to inflict as much damage as possible prior to the transfer.

Outskirts of Tel Meggido Forest
Zion, Free Worlds League
August 23^rd, 2941

The forest was burning.

Elements of the 3^rd Confederation Reserve Cavalry had gone to ground there, waiting for the Oriente Hussars to arrive, and the blaze had spread from where they were believed to be encamped.

Zvi ben Shimon wanted to believe that they’d started the fire by accident – a spark from a welder while repairing armor, or something as stupidly casual as a cigarette butt left in the dry grasses, spread into terrible life by the strong summer winds, but the shape of the blaze argued that it had been set deliberately, moving in a terrible arc towards Beersheba.

Towards his home, and the home of two million other children of Zion, pawns in this game between the Mariks.

Again.

In the history books he’d read as a child, Zvi remembered a time when the First Founders had come to Zion seeking a place where they could have the peace and security that their homeland had lost in the Western Hegemony’s relentless campaign of ‘unification’. How they’d looked to the People’s own history, stealing a JumpShip and outfitting it for a dangerous journey to an unknown land, with every available space on the JumpShip and DropShips packed with families, supplies, and desperate hope.

“All we ever wanted,” he whispered as he watched the fire’s progress on the satellite feed, “was to be left alone.”

So much for that.

The forest was burning. There wasn’t much time.

Straightening in his cockpit, his hands moved in long practiced memory, snapping up covers and flipping switches. Deep in the belly of his titan, the fusion powerplant rumbled to life, while displays ran through the standby/startup checks.

As he felt the slight buzzing sensation of the neurohelmet initializing, his eyes closed, waiting for the recognition sequence to begin in the computer’s slightly tinny voice.

“Authorization Check: Sh'ma Yisra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.”

He cleared his throat, working his mouth to clear the sudden dryness he felt.

“Response: Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed.”

“Acknowleged. Voice print match. Codecheck match. Menoetius online.”

Zvi always felt a thrill, even when he went into combat, from the moment where his body became attuned to his ‘Mech – or vice versa, he supposed. The neurohelmet reading his brainwaves to stabilize it, and to give him the sense of the war machine’s movement and footing as he brought it forward.

He’d supposedly retired, when he returned home from his required service. He’d taken the family ‘mech to war, as was their charge, and he’d wanted nothing more than to retire, raise a family, and perhaps train another generation to protect their homeland. But the troops that House Marik had sworn would defend Zion were still two days away at top burn, and their Home Guard forces had been scattered, some joining the Cavalry in their plans for a guerilla campaign against their new occupiers, some trying to chase down their former comrades in hopes of keeping fighting away from the cities and kibbutz.

But he was here, and Menotetius was here. No one else would reach the forest in time.

So, retired or not, he would do what had to be done.

53 KPH was reasonable speed for a beast this large, even if the old Cyclops would have been outpaced by some of its’ fellows, but even double that would have felt too slow as he entered the still unburnt forest, one eye on the ground in front of him, the other watching the projected course of the fire.

What he needed was…there. Yes.

Tightening his mouth to keep his teeth from snapping together, his feet shifted on the cockpit floor and stomped hard on the pressure switches, sending a burst of plasma through the jets installed on the ‘mech’s feet and back. Apogee at 45 meters wasn’t a lot, really, but the force required to hurl 90 tons through the air was enough to make his bones ache when he landed, regardless of the shock absorbers his grandfather had installed, long before he was born.

The outcropping of rock he’d landed on was barely large enough to be called a butte, but the tactical computer brought up a plot that confirmed what he’d hoped. From here, if his aim was true, he could create a firebreak that would turn the blaze inward. Much of the forest would suffer, but better the unsettled land than his people.

His first shot with the heavy lasers in each of the ‘mechs arms brought down trees almost as wide around as the ‘mech, felling them at careful angles. Brush was cleared with volleys of LRMs from his shoulders, blasting clear breaks where no sparks could spread. Following a pattern laid out on his HUD, he bounced, bone jarring leap after leap, until he’d created the line they needed.

Sweat was running from him like a river between the heat of his cockpit and the wave of superheated air washing over his ‘mech that announced the nearing blaze, but Zvi had almost started to think he could finish his work and pull out of the forest to let the fire burn out when a ringing tone demanded his attention.

Deep green and brown, the ‘mechs advancing behind the line of the blaze would have blended into the landscape if it hadn’t been charred and blackened by the flames. The tactical computer blanked the progress of the fire, replacing it with the force composition as the sensors identified them.

FS9-H FIRESTARTER
VL-2T VULCAN
VND-1R VINDICATIOR
OSR-2L OSTROC

Two incendiary ‘mechs made it clear that this fire had not been accidental. None of them would be a great threat to him alone…but four against one would have been long odds if he had been fully armed and fresh. As It was, ammunition status lights blinked red from two magazines, and his leg armor was showing signs of fatigue from the repeated jumps.

Part of him wondered if he knew the MechWarriors. He’d participated in several exercises with the Home Guard and the CRC, keeping his edge honed. How many had he spoken to in the base mess after a weekend exercise, or told a few stories of fights against Davion or Canopian troops over a few beers?

He pushed the idle thoughts away, dialed in the old exercise guard channel, and hoped one of them would be listening.

“This is Captain ben Shimon, 4^th Capellan Hussars, retired. I am working to protect the city of Beersheba with a firebreak. I have no desire or intention to engage any other forces.” He wet his lips again, then continued, a bit of pain in his voice.

“All we want is to be left alone. Stand down and go on your way. I’ll finish containing the fire and won’t offer any information to the Mariks.”

There was a long, still moment. The Cavalry ‘mechs halted.

Turn away. Please.

Just turn away.

His hopes were dashed when the Firestarter took to the air, heading towards the closest section of the firebreak. The flamers on the lighter ‘mech’s arms were already beginning to belch out a burst of plasma as he descended, clearly intending to burn a new path for the flames.

“I cannot let you do this.” His eye flicked upwards, the ‘mechs targeting reticle following. The crosshair pulsed as the missiles locked on, and new wave of heat, nauseatingly intense, washed over him as he fired a combination of lasers and missiles.

He heard the tone in his ears that signaled hits, but didn’t linger to see the result. Pushing Menoetius forward, he loosed his lesser power lasers and a burst of short range missile fire into the Vulcan.

Follow me, then.

Another blast of lasers tagged the Ostroc, and the return fire had begun. A blast from the Vindicator’s particle cannon tore through his right leg, and Menoetius lurched sideways, forcing him to fight to keep standing.

Blown actuator. ****.

He wouldn’t get far on a damaged leg, even with his jump capability. Luring them from the city wouldn’t work.

One choice, then.

He pulled into a thick stand of conifers, his lungs burning with every breath. The fire would be on them soon.

The Firestarter appeared again – one arm gone, the torso decorated with the remains of molten and cracked armor plate. Another salvo from all four lasers shattered the weakened core and sent it to the ground, the pilot’s ejection seat rocketing into the sky.

“Sh'ma Yisra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.”

The Vulcan’s light autocannon peppered him, pitting and scoring the weakened armor, but a lucky shot hit the ammo feed, almost blasting the ‘mech into a pirouette with the force of the sympathetic detonations.

“Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed.”

He pushed out of his brief refuge with a burst of jets. He could taste copper and salt as he bit into the wall of his cheek. His sensors sounded an incoming fire alarm, and he caught a brief shower of missiles from the two remaining CRC ‘mechs. His left arm’s weapons status went black. The arm itself was still holding, just, but the power feed must have been sheared away.

“V'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha b'khol l'vav'kha uv'khol naf'sh'kha uv'khol m'odekha.”

He twisted the handle that would hot load his LRMs. What did he care about safety ranges now?

The cooling vest he wore was useless now. His bare legs felt stuck to his ejection seat’s synthetic covering. His targeting system went offline due to thermal shock on his next volley, but the Vindicator lost a leg in return, crashing to the forest floor.

The Ostroc closed, slamming a fist into weakened armor. The SRM launcher's status light flared, then went dark.

Zvi smiled.

The flames were within 200 meters. The firebreak was intact.

He knew what he had to do.

Menoetius reached out and grabbed hold of the smaller ‘mechs rounded shoulders. Armor plate buckled as his hands locked, actuators whining as the other ‘mechwarrior realized what he was doing, trying to break away.

The Cyclops’ jets fired – not up, but simply forward. The assault mech pushed with all of its’ mass against the resisting opponent until Menoetius’ damaged leg buckled, pulling both ‘mechs to the ground as black smoke filled the air around them.

Zvi coughed as the canopy glass cracked as they hit the ground, sending smoke into the cockpit. Struggling, he sucked in a lungful of foul air, choking out the final words of the shema.

“V'hayu had'varim ha'eileh asher anokhi m'tzav'kha hayom al l'vavekha.”

The air split with a roar as the flames engulfed them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------

When the 5^th Oriente Hussars engineering battalion entered the burnt out land that had been heart of the Tel Meggido, they found the remains of five ‘mechs, and the evidence of a firefight that told the story of the lone man who had saved the city of Beersheba.

Within two months, techs from the Hussars had taken the husk that had once been an assault ‘mech, and rebuilt it from their own spares and stores.

Repainted in the colors of the new Zion Home Defense Forces, it was installed at the entrance to the newly named ben Shimon national park, a memorial plaque installed at the base of the monument.

In almost 100 years since the battle of Tel Meggido, no attacker has ever dared attack Beersheba through the forest.

-----------------------------------------------
CP-10-JM Cyclops ‘Menoetius’.

Originally issued to Avi ben Shimon as part of the SLDF 302^nd Battle Regiment during the unification war, the ben Shimon family elected to remain on their ancestral homeland of Zion rather than follow General Kerensky into the Exodus.

Due to the ‘mech needing to keep pace with lighter assets on the battlefield, the ‘mech was modified to use a slower Vlar 300 engine, but given 3 Telstar SuperLifter jump jet arrays to enable additional mobility, particularly in rough terrain.

The ‘mechs weapon package was similarly modified over the course of its’ service life, through the B-2000 tactical computer was maintained and preserved with care through four generations of the ben Shimon family. The short ranged punch of the heavy autocannon was removed in favor of a pair of Doombud LRM-10 launchers with extended ammunition stores, and the additional free weight from the smaller engine allowed for two Diverse Optics Sunbeam large lasers to be installed, one in each arm, and additional heat sinks placed in the torso bays and head.

90 tons
Armor: 17.5 tons (Durallex HeavyPlate)
Targeting systems: Irian TrakComm w/ B-2000 tactical computer integration
Engine: Vlar 300 series fusion plant
Jump Capability: Yes
Movement: 3/5/3

Equipment:

2 Diverse Optics Sunbeam Large Lasers
2 Doombud LRM-10 launchers
2 Diverse Optics Fire Lance Medium Lasers
1 Holly SRM-4 launcher

17 standard heat sinks

LA: Large Laser
LT: LRM 10, Medium Laser, LRM Ammo, LRM Ammo Heatsink Heatsink Heatsink
CT: Jump Jet, SRM-4
H: Heatsink
RT: LRM-10, Medium Laser, LRM Ammo, LRM Ammo, SRM Ammo, Heatsink Heatsink Heatsink
RA: Large Laser
LL: Jump Jet
LL: Jump Jet

Edited by BZArcher, 10 May 2016 - 08:30 AM.

[Karl Streiger]

Greetings from Germany – here is my story, information in the spoiler

Spoiler

I found some contradictions in the source material – the battle around Unity City – west of Puget Sound mentioned a Castle Brian at Mount Baker – it should be south of Tacoma so the Castle Brian is called Castle Brian Tacoma. Anyhow – current maps show Mount Baker north of Tacoma.
For this story, I rename the Mount Baker of the source into Mount Rainier – which is in the right place. Also increased the ranges to battle force level – simply because combat is on earth – and we don’t have as much cover as in MWO on our planet.
While there were tribunals no Cyclops was named. But this tactican computer knows everything, right?
The Cyclops is just the standard CP-10-Z nothing special.

Cyclops of Justice

“These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.”
—Thomas Paine, “The Crisis,” 1776, Terra

South of Tacoma
North America, Terra
Terran Hegemony
27 December 2766

“Black Watch Actual, do you read?”

“Black Watch Actual, Black Watch Actual this is Rainier One One do you read?“

Static was answering. A fading mushroom cloud at the western sky and the now silenced guns from the other side of Puget Sound, their meaning was imperative. The last defenders of Unity City were dead. Maybe the Citadel was intact but contact was not yet restored.

With general communication knocked down, the only option to coordinate the defense against the Rim Republic troops was the powerful Olmsted 840 Communication system linked with a unique Tacticon B-2000 computer. Both shielded in the rear of Captain Theodore Koster’s Cyclops.
The 118th Dragoons were stationed at Mount Rainier when the day after the Christmas holidays turned to hell. Sporadic and chaotic message fragments told stories of bombs and assassinations and then the first nuke fell. Terra was under attack not from the outside but from the inside.

Koster moved his 90t Assault Mech north circling away from the city of Tacoma. Although the City could provide better cover, he feared for civilian casualties. When the brown had hit the fan the B-2000 was able to collect and archive every troop movement. Unity City was a hairball of circling Black Watch and Rim Republic units. Both sides fought through Unity City and showed little respect for the civilian in the capital. He didn’t want to be responsible for the same atrocities in Tacoma.

It was obvious that now with Colonel Hanni Schmitt dead and the resistance around Unity City broken the next logical goal for the enemy was the Castle Brian Mount Rainier. While impenetrable for anything but an all-out assault defeat was inevitable. So it was critical that communication was to be restored with other SDLF units. The 1st Corps had enough units on Terra to repel the attackers – if they could rally. Otherwise, a smaller force could beat them in detail.

Koster’s orders were simple. Stay alive and coordinate incoming relief forces. He hoped to hide himself and the lance of bodyguards - three heavy Mechs - in the Okanogan-Wenatchee Forest some kilometers to the north. Staying on the move and with Sequoias providing cover from the air he hoped to give the Republic troops a target that was hard to catch.

He was trying to get an uplink for São Paulo when Master Sergeant Maria Bullrich broke the silence: “CONTACT! 1.5 klicks ahead!”

They had just left the Puyallup River valley and were moving along the outskirts of Orting when the sensors of the Thunderbolt showed something heavy hiding in the woods near the Coplar Creek.
Was it an Ambush or a scouting force? Just a second before Koster concentrated on the controls again, he triggered an automatic communication request for all SDLF commands on the planet or in orbit.
The Tacticon Tracer targeting system of the Cyclops was linked with the Battle Computer and vice versa. In a flash, all target information showed up on the primary monitor.
MAD-1R Marauder – 4th Republic Dragoon 2^nd Battalion; Sergeant Till Horner;

Range was 1300m at the end of his effective reach. The Cyclops was big but he hasn't got armor accordingly. The enemy Marauder pilot knew his job. A storm of charged particles cut deep into the center of the Assault Mech.

His crosshair turned red when the Delta Dart LRMs of his Cyclops were able to get a lock. The Thunderbolt and the Archer added there LRMs into the onslaught. The shots of the large caliber Whirlwind A on the Marauders back went wide when blossoms of fire appeared on his hull. Long range combat wasn’t an option for the Cyclops. He pushed the left-hand throttle forward and the AssaultMech accelerated into a powerful sprint right behind his personal bodyguard, a Shootist.

The MAD pilot did know what was about to happen – still shaken by multiple hits he tried to pull back into the cover of the creek bank.
But not fast enough. The slow thumping of the Defiance Deathgiver did blend with the faster crescendo of the Zeta-36 MK III. The egg-shaped torso was ripped open by the onslaught. But whether the odds the Marauder kept standing.
Another burst of his Whirlwind hit the arms of the Cyclops. Koster shuffled to the left moving behind the Shootist to broke off his targets aim. The hungry energy of the Thunderbolt and Shootists large laser exploited the gaps in the hull of the Marauder. The thermal the signature of the heavy Mech showed a heat spike. But nevertheless, the Marauder went full rampage and pumped an full Alpha into the charging Shootist.
While the 70t Mech stumbled, Koster lined up another shot aiming at the bent armor below the main heatsink. At 500m, it was impossible to miss. A volley of his Mark 36 was followed by two beams of coherent light. Finally, a flight of four Hovertec SRM completed the firestorm.

Flames erupted from the holes in the armor of the heavy republic Mech and just the blink of an eye later the back of the MADs flew open and a figure escaped riding on a seat of flames escaped the dying Mech. It was suicide. With several trees around the BattleMech, the pilot just accelerated himself into a Douglas fir with enough force to smash through the trunk. Like a puppet with cut strings the Marauder crashed into the Creek.

“Well, at least we have given him the same chance they gave the Watch!”
Itho moved the Shootist closer towards the fallen BattleMech.

“OK, Itho you had your fun – time to go!” But Itho didn’t he just moved into the forest.

“Sorry Boss, multiple contacts ahead! I think I can keep them locked, at least for a while. I highly suggest you take your ugly one-eyed gawker and run in the other direction!”

“Fu you! Not a chance we go together or nobody moves.”

He had lost visual with the Shootist but the targeting data was still flowing into the B-2000. It showed at least six contacts and with each second the picture became more hopeless. None of them below 65tons. Members of the Elite 4^th Republic Dragoons. The heaviest Mech an 85ton Rampage was faster and better armed as the Cyclops – his pilot Ivan Checkov. The B-2000 provided even some personal data but Koster ignored it.

He realized that Itho had the right idea; lock those Mechs at one of the chokepoints created by the creek. The hills ascended over 200m to the left and right, only the agilest Mechs could skirt this position. At close quarter combat the Shootist would be a menacing foe that could cripple every, but the best-armored Mechs in a single volley. Anyhow when they rushed his position he would hardly be able to fire more than one or two shots.

“You are still there? Damnation! RUN!”

And Koster followed. The remaining three Mechs moved through the valley in direction northeast along the Carbon River. The noise of the one-sided battle, amplified by the valley haunted their march. After almost two minutes the noise faded. The icon representing the Shootist was gone.

Without slowing down the BattleMechs crossed the wide and shallow river bed of the Carbon. They were almost on the other side when a PPC grazed the right foot of Bullrichs Thunderbolt. She used the momentum and reeled around. Her Large Laser fired back followed by a flight of LRMs.

“Warhammer 7A”

With just a little more than 2.5 klicks between them, it seems unlikely that Koster and his lance could fade. Most of their pursuer had weapons that could reach beyond 3000m. Not to mention that all of those 4^th republic Mechs were the second generation.

“This is a shite place for an Ambush”, said Bullrich and stopped where the South Creek flowed into the Carbon River. Her Sunglow Typ 2 fired another beam of violet light into the onslaught of BattleMechs. The Archer followed her example – both Doombud LRM20 filled the sky with metal.

“It’s ok Captain…we can take them. Just move on…jsadkjiojf”, a PPC shot had hit the Thunderbolt in the chest: “…coordinate the relief forces.”

The air above the Thunderbolt was already glimmering because of the radiating heat. This time, Koster didn’t stop to stare. He ran. Again he left friends behind, to die - for him, no not for him for the League. Only a short time later an explosion rocked the valley.
“Scratch One!”

But this was the only kill. In the open both heavy Mechs hadn’t the luxury of cover and the pursuer were able to focus their fire. The Archer vanished in an explosion. The Thunderbolt just hit the dirt without arms and a broken spine.

Only a single PPC hit the rear of the Cyclops but didn’t inflict critical damage while Koster was fleeing from the field. He lost visual contacts with his chasers soon after..
He used the terrain as good as possible to keep out of sight as long as possible. He did know that he couldn’t outrun them – the only option was to hide.
A slope would allow the Cyclops to leave the valley and move through the City Bonney Lake. This seemed to be the best option because the south creek valley was wide and open. Would his pursuers expect this? When they have Aerospace Fighters at their disposal the flight would be over fast. Do the unexpected. Koster moved into a trench on the other side of the mountain and went prone. He disabled all electronic systems and powered the Cyclops down.

Only a couple of minutes later a couple of Republic Mechs rushed into the valley. It was hard to see details without sensors or visual augmentation. But he was sure that the Rampage and the Warhammer were still intact. An Orion was trailing smoke from a deep gash in the armor. The last Mech seem to be a Victor with the left arm missing.

Those Mechs followed the valley for several hundred meters before they stopped. Of course, they must have realized that their prey wasn’t moving through the valley. Koster was whispering: “Its stupid to hide. It’s a 90t BattleMech he can’t hide. It’s stupid to hide!”

It was a pure horror to see the Rampage moving back. It seemed that the Mech was staring right at Kosters hiding place. In shock, his hands were unable to move, unable to power up the Cyclops and going down with blazing guns. But the moment came and the moment went. The Rampage moved on. It was a relief when he saw the four Mechs climbing the slope towards the city.

Koster waited for half an hour until he activated the passive sensor suite and the B-2000, both still running on batteries because he didn’t want to warn nearby enemies when powering up the Hermes 360. He looked at the new data the B-2000 has collected. Not a single headquarter was responding. The only positive messages came from single units that were not at the bases when those were attacked. Soon Koster figured out what did happen.
At the same time everywhere on the planet bombs and chemical weapons were released to neuter bases and kill SDLF personal. The survivors found themselves under attack of Rim Republic troops, soon after. Only a few were able to escape the massacre and were now hiding like Koster did.
After another two hours, Koster risked contacting Mount Rainier. They told him, that the Castle was under siege. By no means, he would be able to pass through the lines. Instead, he should fade into the wilderness and fight a Guerilla campaign until other Hegemony Forces arrive to liberate Terra.

Near Cumberland
North America, Terra
Terran Hegemony
23 Januar 2777

The T12 Tiger traversed the turret to react onto the thread. The old tank was not fast enough. The man, who used to be Captain Theodore Koster spend one of his invaluable 100m shell cassettes to rack the side of the tank. Without hesitation, he added the Medium Laser into the onslaught and penetrated the armor of the medium tank.
When the crew tried to escape the dying tank, hey were mowed down by soldiers that followed the Cyclops through the gap in the fence. Soldiers? They stopped being soldiers several years ago.
Almost 10 years on the run. Now their uniforms was a mix of whatever they could grab. The armor on his Cyclops was a patch of industrial grade hull or even worse materials. He didn’t have any spare reloads for his Delta Dart LRMs and the left-hand medium laser had a broken jacket, with a tendency to overheat after some shots. But he was still alive, still in the fight.
During his flight, he has found other loyal SDLF troops that kept fighting and together they have waged war on this continent.
Others were not as lucky. He became very familiar with a Mechwarrior that was stationed in Bochum when the hammer fell. But they finally found and killed him last year.
Resistance in Africa was over but for small raids by insurgents. The worst part about it was that the promised relief force of the Terran Hegemony never appeared. Koster didn’t know if the Hegemony still existed or if Amaris that fat ******* was now the Imperator of humanity.

Maybe they were the last that still fought, but he has sworn it at the graves of Itho, Bullrich, and Moreno that he would keep fighting. Today the area around Mount Rainier was a radioactive wasteland the result of ongoing nuclear and orbital attacks to break the defenders of Unity City.

“OK, folks grab what you can get and disperse!”

A flatbed truck rolled into the depot – more soldiers jumped from the back and ran into the warehouses.

Koster watched the sensors – but the two Tiger tanks were the only defenders for now.
Then something strange happened the B-2000 started to run wild. For a moment, Koster thought that the tactical computer had another defect when he realized that new troops have arrived in the system.
His eyes well up. The Star League had survived and this was the reckoning.


When Kerensky soldiers liberated Terra they found only a few hard evidence about war crimes committed by the Rim Republic. An unknown number of hard drives and copies were deleted or destroyed to remove any evidence. Lucky for the judges of the Genova War-Trials there was still data available. Collected by the B-2000 of Kosters Cyclops. Several war criminals were caught and condemned based on this data. A spokesman of the War Tribunal confirmed that those men and women would have never been found otherwise. As a symbol of judgment, the Cyclops stood for several years at the gates of the Court.

Edited by Karl Streiger, 12 May 2016 - 03:22 AM.

[Joshua McEvedy]

THE HEAVENLY EYE

(Word Count: 2295)



Outskirts of Rid
Drozan V
Capellan Confederation
March 15, 3032

“It is time to take back what is the Chancellor's, once and for all,” Ying-zhang Muhammed Dehringé, whispered under his breath, as he powered up his mighty command battlemech, the Heavenly Eye, a venerable Star League vintage CP-10-Z Cyclops.

As the commander of the first of Warrior House Dai Da Chi's two battalions, Dehringé possessed all of the finest leadership qualities demanded by the House Shiao-zhang—exceptional honor and courage, faithful obedience to the Lorix Order, and an unyielding determination to achieve military excellence. And above all, he was deeply loyal to his Chancellor, Maximilian Liao, and committed to serving the Capellan Confederation.

In October 3030, early in the Andurien War, when the 1st Canopian Light Horse and the mercenary Harcourt's Aliens and Caesar's Cohorts landed on Drozan, the heavily outnumbered Dai Da Chi warriors had been ordered by the Chancellor to retreat into the mountains and wage a guerrilla campaign against the invaders.

The ensuing game of hide-and-seek flew in the face of House Dai Da Chi's traditional “shock-and-awe” frontal assault tactics. However, with no choice but to obey, the House warriors carried out the Chancellor's will with supreme skill and tenacity, frustrating their pursuers and disrupting Canopian control over Drozan.

Dehringé too had also been frustrated with the hit-and-run attrition strategy but understood that the odds fell heavily against Dai Da Chi should it emerge from its mountain refuge and fight the Canopians toe-to-toe. He had comforted himself knowing that a day of reckoning would eventually come, and that the Capellan Confederation would avenge the treachery that had been perpetuated against it.

In the meantime, he had led his 1st Battalion in several ambushes and hit-and-fade raids against the Canopian occupiers with minimal losses through the spring of 3031 before the Capellan Confederation Armed Forces had conducted a dangerous extraction of the entire House for rest and refit, right under the unsuspecting noses of the enemy. Although the ferocious discipline of his warriors were undoubtedly key to his success, Dehringé also had a secret weapon that made it nearly impossible for the Canopians and their mercenaries to find the Capellans and pin them down—the CP-10-Z Cyclops assault battlemech, the Heavenly Eye, and its extremely rare Tacticon B-2000 battle computer.

* * * * *

The Heavenly Eye is both an artifact and a testament to the technological ingenuity of the old Star League battlemech systems engineers. First ordered by SLDF procurement officers during the build-up for Kerensky's Hegemony Campaign of 2772-2780, the Heavenly Eye was manufactured in 2771 by Stormvanger Assemblies, Unlimited at the company's factory on Caph, and originally delivered as CP-10-Z Cyclops Serial #011871. Designed to serve exclusively as a command mech, the Cyclops weighed ninety tons and sported a standard 360 Hermes fusion engine with twelve regular heat sinks.

Although for its weight class it carried a relatively light ten tons of armor, it was well-armed with a Delta Dart LRM-10 missile launcher in the left torso, a Zeus-36, Mark III autocannon/20 in the right torso, a Hovertec Quad SRM-4 pack in the center torso, and a Diverse Optics Type 20 medium laser mounted on each arm. Meanwhile, the Tacticon B-2000 holographic battle computer, mounted in its head, enabled planetary-level command, control, communications, and intelligence (CCC&I) by senior commanders.

After passing its shakedown trials on Caph, Cyclops #011871 was accepted for service by the SLDF. Painted regulation olive drab, it was issued to the 1st Brigade, 213th Division, of the 5th Army, then posted in the Capellan Confederation. The brigade's commander, Brigadier General Phillip J. Tso, chose the Cyclops as his personal command mech and piloted it throughout the Amaris Civil War. Because of Division commander Major General Sylvia “Silky” Akaei 's obsession with anti-aircraft warfare, #011871's sophisticated Tacticon B-2000 battle computer was re-programmed with a special algorithm that enabled the Cyclops to detect, identify, and engage enemy aerospace forces, as well as battlemechs and conventional vehicles, at far greater distances than possible with standard radar. The algorithm also enabled the Cyclops to integrate its advanced sensors with those of the division's aerospace fighters, guiding them toward enemy contacts in both the air and on the ground, and significantly improving coordinated combined arms operations.

The 213th Division disappeared after the Civil War, and it was generally assumed that it had either been destroyed or joined Kerensky's Exodus out of the Inner Sphere. However, at the outset of the 1st Succession War in 2786, Cyclops #011871 reappeared with the elite Red Lancers regiment, piloted by Zhong-shao Gregory Tso, the son of former SLDF Brigadier General Tso, who had thrown his family's allegiance to the Capellans during the chaotic aftermath of the Exodus. Zhong-shao Tso repainted the Cyclops in the traditional Lancer colors of red and gold with black highlights, and christened it the Heavenly Eye, after the all-seeing and all-powerful third eye of the ancient Terran Chinese god of truth and justice, Er-lang Shen.

Over the next two centuries, the Heavenly Eye passed from one Red Lancer commander to another, and was present at many of the Capellans' greatest—and worst—battles. Because the Lancers appreciated the value of the Cyclops and its precious battle computer, they went to great lengths to protect the battlemech during combat, usually holding it behind the front lines and assigning only the best pilots to its command lances as guardians. On those occasions when the Heavenly Eye was damaged or suffered mechanical or electronic breakdowns, the Lancers spared no expense repairing it. And despite the inevitable shortage of spare parts and the increasingly acute loss of Star League technology, the Lancer technicians somehow kept the Heavenly Eye and the Tacticon computer in operating condition, even as the Capellan Confederation's fortunes ebbed in the 30th century.

In 2988, Lancer commander Sang-shao Dai Da Chi assigned the Heavenly Eye to his regimental communications officer Sao-shao Gordon Gao. After the Lancers backed Maximilian Liao during his power play against his father Tormax in 2990, Gao became a founding member of the new Warrior House Dai Da Chi, which Maximilian authorized the following year as a reward for the regiment's loyalty. The newly promoted Ying-zhang Gao brought the Heavenly Eye with him and repainted it from Lancer red and gold to the House's now famous “gold-tinged green” color scheme. When the House added an aerospace wing to its order of battle in 3013 by special permission of the Chancellor, the Tacticon's still-functional aero-operations algorithm gave the House a key advantage over its enemies, thus ensuring many victories for Dai Da Chi in the years to come.

* * * * *

Ying-zhang Dehringé had taken possession of the Heavenly Eye after rising to battalion command in the 3020s. Stationed on Drozan to protect that vital agricultural world against threats from within the unstable Free Worlds League and the perfidious Magistracy of Canopus, he and the rest of the warrior house had missed the horrors of the 4th Succession War but shared in Liao's shame nevertheless. That humiliation would not be repeated by the Canopians and their lackeys as far as Dehringé was concerned.

Now joined by the elite Kincade's Rangers in a task force ordered to drive the miscreants from that planet or to die trying, Dehringé was ready to do his duty. Keying the battalion “all-comm” switch on the Heavenly Eye's H.O.T.A.S. (hands on throttle and stick system), he gravely addressed his warriors, concealing the true rage that he felt at the Canopian invaders:

Warriors of Dai Da Chi! Drozan has been infested with the Canopian pestilence for far too long. Many of our brothers and sisters have given their lives defending our planet, in the face of impossible numbers and the most challenging of environments, but their sacrifice has not been in vain. Today, we have returned to exact Liao retribution from the interlopers and to evict them from Capellan space. Our orders from the Chancellor are clear—win at ALL costs and show NO mercy! Do your duty and die with honor! FOR THE CHANCELLOR!

Although he was tightly sealed inside the Heavenly Eye's cockpit, Dehringé thought that he could hear the faint cheers and battle cries of his troops outside his battlemech. Smiling quietly to himself, he put aside his pride, gave his battalion the order to advance, and then pushed the mech's throttle forward, fully prepared to meet his destiny.

As the powerful 90-ton assault mech lurched forward at its top speed of 64.8 km/h, its Tacticon battle computer began finding and targeting the enemy forces ahead in the capital city of Rid. Soon Dehringé and the 1st Battalion hit the complacent Canopians with tremendous fury, routing them and capturing their supply stores. The mercenary Cohorts fought much harder, but were ultimately overwhelmed too by the Capellan onslaught. Within days, they and the Canopians fled Drozan, never to return. Although House Dai Da Chi did not know it just yet, its warriors had turned the tide of the war against the Canopians and their Andurien allies. Eight more years of hard fighting remained before the Capellan Confederation achieved victory and redeemed its military reputation. But from here on in, the breadbasket of House Liao was safe from enemy attack.

During the battle of Rid, Ying-zhang Dehringé and his forces had charged recklessly into the Canopian lines and fought like demons. Miraculously, he survived without injury and was awarded the Baton of Illustrious Service by Maximilian's successor, Romano Liao, for refusing to surrender to the Canopians and their mercenaries despite being both outnumbered and surrounded.

The Heavenly Eye, in the meantime, was heavily damaged during the extended melee in Rid. Most of its armor was shot away and its weapons were either destroyed or rendered inoperable. Fortunately, its chassis was still intact and its Tacticon computer was undamaged.

Since the rare battle computer was such an important asset for House Dai Da Chi and the CCAF, Chancellor Maximilian Liao ordered that the Heavenly Eye be sent to the Hellespont 'Mech Works on Sian for re-engineering, re-building, and retrofitting using rediscovered lostech from the so-called Helm Memory Core.

When the Heavenly Eye emerged from the Hellespont plant for its trials three years later, it was an even more formidable war machine than before. Given a free hand by the Chancellor, the expert Capellan engineers and technicians had incorporated many of the most spectacular features seen on the experimental CTF-0X Cataphract in 3028 and the RVN-3L Raven.

First, the Cyclops' worn out 360 Hermes fusion engine was replaced with a Hermes 360 Extra Light model, imported from the Luthien Armor Works in the Draconis Combine, and equipped with twelve (12) double-strength heat sinks. Next, its armor was upgraded to Hellespont Lite ferro-fibrous, and it was fitted with a dual-cockpit. The mech was then equipped with the cutting-edge Ceres Metals Model 666 communications system with an Apple Churchill Golden Shield Guardian ECM Suite and an Apple Churchill 2000 Targeting and Tracking System with Beagle Active Probe, all interfaced with the Tacticon battle computer.

The Heavenly Eye's weapons systems were upgraded too, with the destroyed AC/20 replaced with a Mydron Excel LB-X Autocannon/10 manufactured by Bithinian Ballistics. A new Shigunga LRM-10 launcher interfaced with an Artemis IV Fire Control System, also manufactured by the Luthien Armor Works, replaced the mech's old LRM-10 system. Additionally, the center torso-mounted SRM-4 was replaced entirely with an Apple Churchill Guiding Light NARC pod launcher, for superior targeting of enemy mechs during engagements. Finally, two Ceres Arms Model W medium pulse lasers were mounted on each arm, significantly upgunning the Cyclops for short-ranged self-defense.

The Chancellor personally presented the rebuilt Heavenly Eye to Ying-zhang Dehringé during a solemn ceremony held on Sian in January 3036. Flush with glory, the battalion commander then returned to Drozan with the Cyclops, where he and his fellow warriors of House Dai Da Chi continued to guard the Capellan Confederation's great breadbasket against any further incursions from the Free Worlds League or the Magistracy of Canopus. As of May 3050, Dehringé, the Heavenly Eye, and House Dai Da Chi were still garrisoned on Drozan, awaiting orders from the dynamic young Chancellor Sun Tzu Liao to charge once again into battle and to recover the captive Capellan worlds that were lost during the 4th Succession War, thus restoring the honor of House Liao.

* * * * *

BATTLEMECH PROFILE, as of 3050

CP-10-Z Cyclops (Refitted) Command BattleMech, 'The Heavenly Eye'
Manufacturer: Stormvanger Assemblies, Unlimited, re-engineered and rebuilt by the Hellespont 'Mech Works
Chassis: Stormvanger HV-7
Armor: Hellespont Lite
Engine: Hermes 360 XL (imported from the Luthien Armor Works, 3 slots in right and left torsos)
Speed: 64.8 km/h
Targeting and Tracking System: Cockpit Command Console with Apple Churchill 2000 and Beagle Active ProbeCommunications System: Ceres Metals Model 666 with Apple Churchill Golden Shield Guardian ECM Suite

Weapons:

Mydron Excel LB-X Autocannon/10 (6 slots in Right Torso, with 2 tons of ammunition stored in the right leg-2 slots)
Shigunga LRM-10 with Artemis IV Fire Control System (3 slots in Left Torso, with 2 tons of reloads stored in the left leg-2 slots)
4 Ceres Arms Model W Medium Pulse Lasers (2 mounted on each arm, 4 slots altogether)
Apple Churchill Guiding Light Narc Missile Beacon (2 lots in Center Torso, with 1 ton of homing pods stored in the Left Torso-1 slot)

Equipment:

Golden Shield Guardian ECM Suite (2 slots in Left Torso)
Beagle Active Probe (2 slots in Left Torso)
Command Console/Dual Cockpit with Tacticon B-2000 battle computer (1 slot in Head)
12 Double-strength Heat Sinks (equipped internally in the 360 XL engine
Ferro-fibrous Armor: 6 slots in each arm and 2 in the Right Torso.

Sources:

Spoiler

Handbook: House Liao, page 86.

http://www.sarna.net/wiki/Drozan

Historical: Brush Wars, pages 54-55 and 61-63.

Field Manual: Capellan Confederation, pages 5 and 63.

http://www.sarna.net/wiki/Cyclops

http://www.sarna.net...lies,_Unlimited

http://www.sarna.net...ouse_Dai_Da_Chi

http://www.sarna.net/wiki/Red_Lancers

https://en.wikipedia...iki/Erlang_Shen

http://www.sarna.net/wiki/Dual_Cockpit

http://www.sarna.net...my_(Star_League)

http://www.sarna.net...leMech_Division

http://www.sarna.net...ructure#Brigade

Field Manual: SLDF, pages 79-86.

Experimental Technical Readout: Succession Wars, Volume 1, p. 6

http://www.sarna.net/wiki/Cataphract

http://www.sarna.net/wiki/Raven

Edited by Joshua McEvedy, 15 May 2016 - 07:54 AM.

[Ibrandul Mike]

Farewell Old Friend

If you know that this very day would be your last… what would you do? I can´t answer that question for you, but I want to tell you, what I did. My name is Lizzy by the way. And perhaps you should know a few more things about me, perhaps you want to know why I am at the museum on this special day?

I am… I was a mechwarrior. For over twenty years I was in one battle after the other for many of the great houses. I am not at liberty to say which battles I fought or for whom so you just have to take it at face value.

I just want to see an old friend one last time. He is kinda working here… right there in the gardens. I am walking up to him, watching him standing there, just like a statue. I can feel his eye resting on me and even if I know it isn´t so it feels as if he recognizes me.
As I reach him, I gently touch him. I can feel the cold radiating from his foot, the hairline cracks in the outermost layer of armor. He doesn´t look so good anymore. There were times, when he was in top shape and every little broken part would have been replaced in a matter of hours. Now I am looking up to a broken shell. No life, no whir of the actuators running. Nothing. He only stands there. Encased in a scaffold so that you can go up all the way up to the cockpit, get a closer look on every part.

In a few days they will take him from his resting place. Get him fixed, revive him. Then they will sent him out to die in battle, fix him, let him die… again and again.

I am up on the scaffold, let my hand touch his torso. The plates are cracked, partly molten. There are holes where you can see the other armor layers, even spots enabling you to look into the interior. My fingers glide over a small hole near the SRM launcher in the center torso. For a moment I try to remember what had happened, but it has been more than 5 years. I let my eyes wander further up to the big eye. The cockpit … my place. The only place I ever really felt at home. I see the scars on the glass, where the lasers hit, where parts have melted down and solidified again, the small holes, the reflections of the setting sun. As I watch it seems like small flames are dancing inside the cockpit...

I can smell the smoke. Hear the blaring of the heat warning. Those ******** are using Infernos. My cockpit isn´t sealed any more, there are small holes where the AC rounds hit but didn´t get all the way through. I hear the other warnings, missiles incoming. Then a loud buzz and the holographic display of the Tacticon B-2000 goes dark. Some of the gel got inside of the cockpit. The battle computer, the most valuable part of Nemo is destroyed. Small flames are coming out of the now defunct piece of electronics. Then I smell it over the stench of the burning gel. Something like barbecue. I try to see where it was coming from, looking down. It's only a drop, a drop of gel on my leg. But it's burning its way to the bone. I begin to panic … why hadn´t I felt anything?

I shake myself out of the memory. Trying to get rid of the throbbing pain I sometimes feel in my prosthetic leg. Again I let my gaze glance over the torso, once more willing myself to keep calm, keep the memories down. I see the armament, the medium lasers in the arms and the right torso, the LRM launchers in both the side torsos, the SRM launcher in the middle. I know there is no ammunition in Nemo anymore. Maybe the lasers are functioning, but perhaps not. Why am I assessing him like that? I can´t pilot him anymore. Not after that day. Not after the injuries.
A tear wells up and I am too slow to catch it. Dammit I am a warrior… not some stupid little girl crying about my past lover or something. I take my time, calming down. I have work to do, one last time. I go around to the cockpit hatch and watch the people in the gardens. No one even looks at me. I open the hatch as silent as possible, if you can call hammering the one place you have to hit so that the hatch gets unstuck silent, and climb inside, tugging my bag behind me. Carefully I close the hatch and lock it. I go to my old place, take the neurohelmet from the chair and sit down. My fingers trace the outline of the helmet, searching for the small holes in its side where the shrapnels got through. Then I put it down again on the charred battle computer. I take my bag on my legs and look around in the cockpit seeing the controls, the lights all dull. I turn around to the emergency seat and for a moment it is like watching myself sitting there…

“Mam, we have three enemies inbound, they were hiding behind the buildings in front.” I said from the emergency seat to my mother. She acknowledged it and issued commands to the other members of the command lance. It was an ambush. They had engaged Alpha and Beta Lance in the outskirts of the ruins of the city, while some of them must have taken the opportunity to sneak around. I could see the positions of our teams on the holographic display. I could see who they were engaging, their ammunition supply, on some I could even see the vitals of their pilots. But all that wasn´t important now. There was a new front line and this time it was right here. The whole mech shook as we were hit with some ballistic weapon. I saw my mother align the lasers on an enemy hunchback, firing at him. I felt the vibrations of the actuators and myomer muscles as our mech accelerated. I heard the growl like sound of the torso twisting. Nemo made that sound every time it twisted more than halfway his range and it reminded me of a small and ferocious animal … a heavily armed, 90 ton animal.
The mech shook again, trying to keep itself upright. I could feel the air in the cockpit getting warmer as my mother shot at the enemy again and again. I could see her sweating and I knew it wasn´t only because of the heat. We were in trouble. There were two more enemies inbound. We couldn´t brawl with the enemies and only Ned's CN9-AH was a match for them in close range combat.
I was watching the display, trying to get as much information as possible. Alpha Lance was nearly done with their enemies. Bravo had problems. We had problems. I was about to call alpha to our position, when the cockpit glass shattered and before I could even react Nemo was falling. I felt the impact as he hit the ground. I opened the straps that kept me in the emergency seat … and nearly fell out of the cockpit. Nemo was lying face down on the earth. I got to my mother and saw the fragments of the glass sticking out of her body, dripping blood. She wasn´t breathing and I couldn´t do anything to help. Everything was lost. There was no way… “Command this is <static> … we are nearly at your position. I repeat… we are nearly at your position. Hold out!”
I was frantically reaching for the com. “This is Lizzy. Mother is…. the commander is down. We have...” I checked the display “Four more enemy units. Get them. Don´t let any of them get away...”

Again I have to shake my head. I hate those flashbacks. Tears are streaming down my face. After all that time it still hurts to remember that moment. Nemo is all that was left of my past. My whole life seems to be centered around him.

After the incident with my mother I started my training for real and after a few months I was able to take over the control of Nemo, just as he was repaired and ready to go. Nemo wasn´t really the same after that, but so wasn´t I. We both had our scars… it was ok, it was something that connected us even more. Something more than just me handling him. More then him doing everything I wanted him to do. After that we seemed like one, I was his mind, he my body. There couldn´t have been a more fitting couple.

The first time I saw Nemo after the incident, it was breath taking. That big guy in his new and shining armor. He was in our family since we dese… left the employment of… let´s say not so pleasant employers. In our family my grandmother, my mother… even me… we were the tacticians. Not the best mech warriors in the field but the best commanders you could find out there. And like no others we could play the strengths of the cyclops.
Nemo was part of our family for much over a century. He was like a silent big brother, a replacement for my father who died, when I was a small child.
I can´t let them take him. I can´t stand to see him dying again and again. Being rebuild until nothing is left of him. Everything replaced… no soul anymore. There is only one thing I can do. Only one thing left to do.
I grab the bag on my legs and open it up…

---

Newsflash
A big explosion shook the museum in our town tonight as a terrorist attack was committed. One of the mechs in the gardens, an old cyclops CP-10-Q, which should be overhauled and sent to the front lines again, was beheaded by an explosive charge set off in the cockpit. The Cyclops called Nemo will remain at the museum, there are no more plans to overhaul him because of the extensive damages.
At the moment investigations are under way. If you have seen anything suspicious, please call ...

Spoiler

Wordcount: 1757 Words
Time of the story: Around 3020
Location: Unknown ... you would have to search local media reports
Remarks: First time BT writing ... be gentle

More Infos about Lizzy:
Only child, no children -> Last of the family line. Maybe important for the context
Injuries in her last fight:
burn wound in her left leg, which lead to her losing the leg and geting a prosthetic
Head trauma, leading to a change in personality and damage to her equilibrium sense -> She can´t pilot a mech anymore, if the mech is supposed do anything other than crawl.

Infos for Nemo:
Nemo is a CP-10-Q in the standard configuration as in the MWO Mech-Specs.

Edit: Spoiler edited. Spelling and puncuation corrected. Thanks to Odanan

Edited by Ibrandul Mike, 15 May 2016 - 03:50 AM.

[TygerLily]

Ghost

Who cares if they were only firing at drones today. A tech jostled Ricky Castilleja’s head as he affixed connectors from the neurohelmet to his cooling suit. After being one of the last handful of cadets to make it this far in the academy, Ricky grinned stupidly inside the helmet. He was finally sitting in the cockpit.

A Cyclops. Maybe once it was a terror but in this day in age it was just a relic. Despite its 90-ton mass, the Mech moved very fast for its weight class and carried a lot less armor than its peers. But enough armor to accommodate mistakes and enough speed to perfect maneuvering. It was perfect for training. It even had a second seat from which Ricky could imagine his cadre reaching forward and smacking him during live fire.

He even remembered the Mech was an anomaly of sorts due to its holographic battle computer which allowed even a handful of the chassis to command a full planetary invasion. A large section of the cockpit seemed devoted to this system but now it sat lifeless.

As with most present day technology, all knowledge of how it actually worked or how to repair such treasures was bombed to nonexistence in the First Succession War. Even now, war raged on and automated factories churned out reinforcements to whomever maintained control.

Ricky had been on the path of the MechWarrior for just over a year now and, with a only few months to go, the light was at the end of the tunnel.

He had studied everything about these machines: the way strands of silicon-carbide fibers gave these war machine very organic looking musculature or how to recognize the loadout differences hundreds of chassis and their many variants based on a glance.

But today he walked. No more theory; no more tactics. Just a ten hour mission in the mountains.

“Op is rock ‘n roll,” said the staff sergeant AsTech into his radio to Command. The comms lit up with affirmatives from various command elements. While not his direct drill sergeant, being in the training environment for so long had instilled in Ricky an innate fear of the chevrons and rockers on the tech’s shoulders. Ricky was unaccustomed to any lightheartedness from the NCO’s in the 1159th Mechanized Training Battalion. With one last jerk, the tech made the final connection between Ricky’s helmet and the war machine.

A spark bolted through his head. His sight exploded into a scintillating starfield that sent a prickling sensation through his limbs. It was his first time being plugged into a neurohelmet but Ricky knew something was very wrong. But no halt came from Command and his voice seemed strangled in his throat.

The bay doors were opening in front and morning light from the planet poured in. Ricky felt dizzy as his brain integrated with the BattleMechs computers via the neurohelmet. In fact, he felt a bit lost; out of his body. His existence flashed back and forth between the seated pilot and the towering Mech until it found a surreal equilibrium. HUD elements had been winking on and now floated around his vision.

Through the disorientation, a huge form silhouetted in the sunlight as the bay doors finally opened to their full width. It was massive - a cowled head nestled into its broad shoulders. Ricky could hear whispering in his ear but not from the radio. A wispy voice that was saying something he could almost make out.

Ko...jan…fiuh...ta…

Time seems to slow, so many MechWarriors have reported. Scientists attribute it to the pilots processing information so much faster via their neural connection to a supercomputer yet a deep animal part of the pilot still remains, governing reflexes. While Ricky’s intellect pondered the silhouette and the voice, his instinct pulled the trigger on his Cyclops’ massive right mounted autocannon. The ghostly voice was suddenly lost in a harsh buzzing tone. The weapon hadn’t fired - still disabled remotely by Command - and in his ear people were yelling.

A paralyzing feeling of terror gripped Ricky as a presence from the copilot seat seemed to be leaning forward. He could almost feel a breath on his neck through the cooling suit. The sensation vanished as a very specific voice broke through.

“...the hell, cadet? Don’t f*cking embarrass the 1159th on a goddam trip into the mountains. Your targets are a click out. You will not engage those weapons until then. Do you understand?”

It was drill sergeant Wilson.

The disorientation was fading. Enough for him to swallow his embarrassment and move out.

“Yes, drill sergeant.”

The Cyclops kicked forward and out of the bay into the forest. Upon a rocky outcropping ahead - how had it gone 800 meters? - the same dark form was standing. Staring.

The ghostly voice began tickling the edge of his perception again…

Kopjan…fehtan...

____________________________________________________________________________

Mail call. A letter from mama.

Mijo,

I am so glad to hear you will be coming home soon. You make me proud to have made it this far. Your ‘sabuelo would be so proud of you.

Ricky’s great-grandfather had been a part of this same battalion back before the 1159th had been converted to a training battalion. After the Second Succession War, during the brief peace, the armies of the Inner Sphere drew down, their barracks sparsely occupied for lack of living soldiers. New cadets began training in the wake of the Second War and the 1159th had been reassigned from combat to training missions. Who would have guessed that a century later, Ricky would be serving in the same Battalion as his great grandfather - the same Company even.

I was doing some more research on him. I couldn’t find anything on his exact place in the unit but I believe he won some sort of medal for distinguished service. Maybe you could ask one of your instructors about it.

Ricky laughed. His mother's naivety about what life was like in training was too amusing. He was surprised the letter didn’t come with bug spray…

What she had included was a aging photo of his great-grandfather. He had a cleft chin, that gave a slight seriousness to his stubbly face topped with ragged hair, tamed only by a headband of torn cloth. A cigarette poked out of his tight lips and he seemed to be squinting into the sun. He sat on a huge domed, metal surface with one leg hanging into open cockpit hatch, the other folded up to his chest.

Ricky recognized the domed plating as the head of a Cyclops. Along the side was painted the callsign Ghost.

Ricky was interrupted from his letter by sergeant first class he’d never seen before. Ricky snapped to parade rest but - Bennett, read the nametape - held a hand up before Ricky could call the rest of the courtyard to “at ease.”

“Ricky Castilleja, yea?”

“Yes, sergeant.”

“I wanted to let you know we’re looking into that...energy spike, during your last FTX. I see you were in that old Cyclops?”

“Yes, sergeant.”

“Damn, they are still using that thing,” Bennett said, more to himself, placing a cigarette in his lips and flicking at his lighter.

“Well, we isolated the spike coming from that old battle computer on the Cyclops’ back. It was supposed to be inoperable but the moment we initiated that neurohelmet there was some kind of influx from the battle computer to the main drives and your brain. Did you experience anything out of the ordinary during or after the exercise?”

Ricky half expected the ghostly voice. Wouldn’t that be ironic?

“No, sergeant. Actually, I threw up a little bit after we returned to the hanger.”

“That’s alright. Takes time to get used to the neural integration. That’s normal,” Bennett said. “Smoke?”

“Uh, no, sergeant,” said Ricky. In trouble for contraband; just what he’d need.
____________________________________________________________________________

Training seemed so long ago. Was there ever a time without war? The Inner Sphere was defined by the gun. Maybe the nukes from the First War shouldn’t have been outlawed. But then, who thinks like that? Or is it a thought that was a product of the age? The ancient libraries were so full of stories about how ancient man thought the future would bring enlightenment and progress.

This was the Fourth Succession War.

The Ricky’s eyes widened. How long had it been there?

Motionless, across the plain, with its singular eye - its cockpit actually - shaded beneath a hood of armored plating, it stood staring back.

No one else had called it out or even responded to its appearance. Ricky had already drawn on his range card all the potential cover an enemy could use to approach his position. This thing was in the open, clearly in no-man’s land.

Ricky stretched forward in his cockpit to look out the side window. To his right in the firing position was Shinsu Raka in a Shadow Hawk whose range could compliment his own Cyclops. He could barely make out her form in the 55-ton machine. Beside its cockpit, a grim reaper decal was drawn on it’s head armor portraying the deathly figure with a black hood. Raka’s body seemed slouched and inattentive, pouring water into a food package of something to activate the self-heater.

Ricky fell back into his piloting seat and looked again across the plain. The humanoid Mech stood peering, still as a corpse. How could no one else see it?

Cepan...feohtan...

Ricky clicked the mic on; then off.

Immediately came the voice of sergeant White over the company-wide channel.

“You got something to say, Castilleja?”

An eruption of rage and embarrassment flushed Ricky’s face. The company already thought he was crazy.

“No, sergeant.”

____________________________________________________________________________

A dark mass started to break the plane of the corner. Ricky pulled the trigger sending two emerald beams out to strike the angular armored plates of a the hulking frame beginning to appear. Medium lasers had an energy output of point nine seconds.

For what seemed like minutes, Ricky held the beam steady as it delivered its damage, superheating his enemy's armor, all the while he sifted through battle data in the supercomputer to which his brain was hardwired. Every inch of the enemy Mech coming into view was measured and analyzed. It helped him compare and contrast its silhouette to those enemies that had already been scanned and logged into the engagement data. The faster he could identify the Mech, the better he would know what he was dealing with.

The animal - living in real-time, acting on fight or flight - saw and identified a gun barrel mounted on the enemy Mech’s right torso as it continued to traverse the corner. Ricky’s volley of medium lasers had only burned for point seven-four-seven seconds, delivering only eighty-three percent of their potential damage but he couldn’t let that cannon tear into his torso plating.

The enemy Mech finally stepped fully into view and fired. Ricky had anticipated this and twisted his Mech right at the waist so the shell would impact on his left arm rather than his centermass which housed critical systems like his engine, gyroscopics, life support. Upon turning, the remaining seventeen percent of Ricky’s laserfire blasted into the skyscraper on his right. Glass exploded along the lasers’ path as they raked the second and third story floors leaving a trail like a finger writing cursive in wet sand. The computer sounded automatically, indicating high levels of sustained damage in a very short period to his left arm, leg and torso. Ricky began twisting his Mech back forward.

What the hell was that? he thought. Ricky had gotten only a glimpse of the enemy before turning away. The computer had yet to flash a readout of the enemy Mech despite it being in full view. The battle computer was having problems identifying the machine. Even with just a glimpse, Ricky clearly saw that the Mech was some form of Hunchback. But with two shoulders?

The enemy Mech had one more surprise for him. The machine began to rise off the ground rapidly as a loud crack of superheated air was followed by a grinding, ripping sound. The Hunchback rocketed over Ricky, attempting to land atop a two story, white-domed municipal building. It’s autocannons lit up again.

Shells pounded the Cyclops’ chest and the enemy pilot walked his fire up until a deafening crash and flash of light left Ricky disoriented. A familiar scintillating starfield sparkled in front of his vision and a prickling sensation raced through through his limbs.

A ghostly voice began.

Kee...Fi….

Not now, Ricky pleaded as alarms were exploding in his ear. The cockpit dropped in temperature dramatically as the extreme cold of the planet's atmosphere rushed into through a gaping hole in the cockpit glass. Warm blood ran down his face in contrast.

“Cast!? Castilleja?” someone was yelling in his receiver.

The enemy Mech touched down with a thundering reverberation that shook Ricky’s chest.

Ricky’s Mech had fallen. In a daze, he rolled over to stand. Or rather the BattleMech followed his natural impulses via the neurohelmet. He pulled the trigger on his lasers again sending green beams out and his heat meter spiked.The internal heatsinks pushed out the energy of the fusion engine and weapon fire. Outside, the Cyclops shimmered as the sunlight distorted over superheated plating.

Medium frame, heavy weapons, high mobility. Something had to give, Ricky thought. Where was its weak point?

The answer came quickly. Ricky’s lasers burned into the Hunchback’s right shoulder - old habits - as his battle computer was continually spitting out density readings on the enemy's armor and attempting to paint a picture of his health on the HUD. Where Ricky’s weapons had hit, the armor indicator went from green to dark orange.

The enemy Hunchback fell back, threatening to topple off the municipal building. Only a few taps from its jump jets kept it stable as it leaped down to the ground.

This was it. Ricky closed his eyes. His lance was eradicated, the next closest was 600 meters through urban terrain. The enemy had blown past the line and was going to succeed in ambushing the extraction site, cutting off and killing the rest of the Bravo Company.

A cold hand reached from behind, through his cooling suit, clasping his shoulder. A ghostly voice broke through and a sensation washed over him.

It was a sensation of disconnection from his own body mixed with a sense of pride. Pride in one’s family.

Keep...fighting…said the ghostly voice.

Ricky’s eyes snapped open. He rolled the Cyclops to the side as another burst unleashed from the enemy Hunchback.

Keep. Fighting. The voice shouted.

With a roar, Ricky pulled the trigger on the autocannon-20.

____________________________________________________________________________

A man held a plaque weakly from his hospital bed.

Distinguished valor.

Awarded to Sergeant Ricky Castilleja, MechWarrior, 901st Mechanized Infantry Battalion.

“I’m so proud of you,” said a female voice. It was Shinsu Raka.

“How is she?” Ricky said after a moment.

“The Cyclops-”

“Ghost,” Ricky corrected.

“She’ll be ready.”

Edited by TygerLily, 15 May 2016 - 05:24 PM.

[Levi Porphyrogenitus]

Location: Redacted
World: Redacted
Date: Redacted
Operations Theater: Clan Jade Falcon front

“Wait for it…” the order came through the comms, encrypted using protocols developed by the New Avalon Institute of Science and not widely available to the AFFC. “Hold just a moment longer…” Lee Ritter, late of the Eighth Arcturan Guards, shook his head in impatience. These Davions were proving to be both arrogant and domineering, insisting on every member of the local resistance movement following each command to the letter. The commander of this detachment of the mysterious 1^st Special Operations Group, identifying himself only by the call sign “Wrath,” was proving to be a controlling officer, micromanaging everything from the cockpit of his Cyclops. If it weren’t for the results so far, Lee and his fellows wouldn’t stand for it.

Lee’s attention was seized by the sight of a pair of invader mechs, designated by his computer as a Thor and an Uller. The lighter of the two was ranging out ahead, swiveling its torso from side to side as its pilot scanned for threats. Lee unconsciously shrank back in his seat, even though he knew his Commando was securely hidden under the carefully arranged camo netting and heavy foliage at the forest’s edge. The stream that cut through the trees was especially deep here, causing the Uller to pause for a moment before wading carefully through, its pilot wary of treacherously soft river bed.

Lee’s hand twitched toward the button that would restore full power to the reactor, which currently waited in standby mode to conceal his presence from the enemy. Reluctantly, he held back, tempting though the exposed rear torso of his enemy was.
The Uller moved past his position and the Thor approached. A much heavier mech, it was also much more dangerous. Judging by its profile, it carried a somewhat customized loadout, with a larger bore autocannon and no missile launcher. Lee felt his skin crawl as the Thor’s gaze apparently swept over his hiding place, but the pilot moved on with no further reaction. He swallowed his nerves and settled back, adjusting the fit of his harness and neurohelmet. He sensed that action was imminent.

“Group One, you are go. Focus all fire on the Thor.” Wrath’s commands came over the comm net and Lee found that he’d already slapped the power toggle and moved his hands to the throttle and command stick. The Thor remained oblivious as motion came to the Commando’s limbs. Lee took several steps forward, pushing through the edge of the trees and throwing off the camo netting, even as he raised his mech’s arms and loosed a volley of short-range missiles into the back of the heavier target. Simultaneously, a pair of technicals, heavy-duty civilian trucks rigged with make-shift missile racks on crude swivels and manned by local volunteers, rushed out of their own hiding place and likewise slammed SRMs into the back of the Thor, leaving its armor smoking and rent, its internals open and vulnerable.

The Thor turned with a degree of agility that Lee thought he would never become used to seeing in so heavy a mech. It unleashed a bolt of man-made lightning from its right arm, vaporizing one of the technicals in an instant. Lee twisted his mech and pushed the throttle to the stops, trying desperately to evade the enemy as its autocannon tracked his movements. He loosed a second volley of missiles which scattered across the face of the Thor, lightly scarring its thick frontal armor plating. The autocannon bore seemed huge, a bottomless pit of death that loomed at Lee. For that which we are about to receive… he thought to himself.

An explosion shook the Commando. Lee glanced to the damage readout and was shocked to see all green. He looked up at the Thor, which stood frozen in place for a moment. Then it toppled forward, falling like mechanical Goliath upon its face, smoke pouring from its rear in great clouds. Beyond, like David with his sling, Wrath’s Cyclops was even then turning from its fallen target and bringing its arm-mounted pulse lasers to bear on the Uller. Lee whirled his Commando and sprinted back toward the fight, sending out a third spread of missiles, this time toward the enemy light mech. Its own weapons stabbed back, pulse lasers cutting deep into his armor and triggering alarms as most of his frontal defenses were stripped by that single volley of coherent light.

A tone sounded in his helmet as Lee twisted his torso to interpose an arm between the Uller and his now-vulnerable chest. Four Streak SRMs flew from the Uller’s left arm and struck his own left arm and leg, shattering armor plating but failing to find any of the holes left by the lasers in the Commando’s torso. Yet the Uller pilot’s focus cost him, as Wrath fired another burst from his large-bore autocannon and followed up with twelve short range missiles, blasting the light mech’s leg out from under it and sending it sprawling to the ground. Lee and Wrath combined their fire, the Cyclops’ medium pulse lasers and the Commando’s own SRMs pounding the Uller as it lay helpless on the ground. After struggling for a moment, the pilot surrendered to the inevitable and powered down his crippled mech. The surviving technical pulled to a halt just before the fallen mech, the militia crew dismounting and brandishing firearms as the Uller driver popped his hatch and dismounted.

“We can’t linger,” Wrath said over the comms. “Secure the pilots and search the cockpits, prep the mechs for demolition, and then prepare to fall back to Rally Point Tau. I’m tracking a second patrol that we can waylay, if we’re quick about it.” With that, the Cyclops spun on its heel and began lumbering away at close to sixty kilometers per hour, its predominantly black paint fading quickly into the shadows of the forest. Lee Ritter, of the anti-Clan resistance movement supported and advised by elements of the 1^st Special Operations Group, shook his head ruefully. Wrath was frustratingly controlling, and irritatingly micromanaging, but he got results. Maybe those results would prove enough to drive the Falcons from this planet, and perhaps from the Inner Sphere itself.

Cyclops “Cocles”
The Cyclops is a venerable design renowned for its ability to manage large combats over vast areas. This is largely due to the ancient and powerful Tacticon B-2000 Battle Computer. Cocles was once a stock CP-10-Z in service to the Capellan Confederation. Taken as salvage by a member of a House Davion loyalist mercenary unit, it eventually found its way into the hands of the Ministry of Intelligence’s Special Operations Group, a secretive formation of mechwarriors trained in operations behind enemy lines and experts at providing strategic and tactical advice to foreign units that require assistance in asymmetric warfare situations. While assigned to the 1^st Special Operations Group, an operator with the call-sign “Wrath” took possession of the mech for a prolonged assignment during the Clan invasion, helping local resistance movements formed form a combination of native volunteers and the remnants of smashed military formations.

Cocles was upgrade prior to this deployment in consideration of the frighteningly advanced technology of the Clan enemy. With an upgraded Endo Steel skeleton to save weight, a smaller STD325 engine designed for enhanced ruggedness, and a slightly modified payload replacing the missiles with a pair of SRM 6-packs with three tons of ammunition and upgrading the medium lasers to pulse versions, it retained the Zeus-36 Mark III 20-class Autocannon and its four tons of reloads. It also carried significantly heavier armor plating. A Beagle Active Probe rounded out its electronics, supplementing and enhancing the performance of its Tacticon computer.

Bearing the colors of the 1^st SOG, consisting of a flat black base, Porphyry trim, and subtle gold highlights, Cocles has proven its worth as a command vehicle for Wrath, enabling him to track simultaneously dozens of enemy formations and countless wide-spread irregular guerrilla units, coordinating the latter to take advantage of opportunities offered by the deployments of the former. Likewise, it proved a dangerous opponent, with a devastating close-range payload that Wrath was able to deploy with uncanny accuracy.

[DeLaguna]

Commander's Log
Date: Classified
Location: Classified
Mission: Classified
Year: 3050

Command Mech: Loadout

• 10 Single Heat Sinks
  
• RT: Gauss Rifle & 2Tons Ammo Protected with CASE
  
• LA: Medium Laser
  
• RA: Medium Laser
  
• CT: Medium Laser
  
• LT: C3 Master
  
• B-2000 Computer

0500 hours : Abord Dropship on the way to the fight.
Today I will take my top of the line Cylops into battle today. The other commanders don't understand why I got this thing, but then again many of them didn't start on the front lines of battle like I have. How many of them ever piloted an ATLAS. They say spare parts are hard to find, and the Cyclops is weak. Most Mechs are weak if you know where to attack. Anyways, so the factory was destroyed in Caph but that was a long time ago, I trust Grumium Creations, I mean it's 3050! Leave the past in the past. My CP-11-C Variant is the best they have put out. I can command my troop and snipe at the Enemies weakness-exposing them for my men. It's a shame they had to remove the LRM's but that's what I have my men for. The new C3 Computer allows me to do so much more tactically. Not to mention they were able to put on 2 more tons of armor. I will say though I would love to remove this Gauss Rifle with its dangerous capacitors, however with it Case protected I should be safe. I almost crippled my ATLAS running a Gauss Rifle, my Case protection was the only thing to save me, made me a believer. If I had my way though I would switch it out with an ERPPC not as strong but if I threw in another C3 computer or something I could lead precision attacks on the enemy with better intel.

Unlike Brigadier C. Enright, I won't be as brash with my Cyclops. One thing I don't think he understands that you can be fluid and surprising without having to take huge risks. Anyways mine isn't painted Blue and White like a big target. My Cyclops fresh off the Factory floor I am using a special Camo, that will hide me from the enemy. I am not allowed to divulge more as I called in some favors from a Black Ops Regiment, working on some crazy Mech they didn't share the details but they told me some of the technology was researched for a model (BMT-3RX) and told me to upgrade to that mech if I wanted even better surprise factor. They didn't say when they would be finished with it. I could have pulled rank but I have a lot of respect for that unit, ever since that mysterious accident where a whole mech teleported and just disappeared test crew and everything.

I know some men put Extra decoy shields around the Cyclops Cockpit but seems to me that only increased the casualty and injury rate. If I keep my distance and use my lances correctly I should be able to avoid hits to the head.

Well, I have to power up the B-2000 and rally the men. Yea you read that Right I got one of the models with an operational B-2000 Computer by adjusting the parameters a little everything works great. Thanks to my rank they reserved it for me. Now do not go thinking life is easy, I paid my dues, unlike some other Officers. I didn't start with rank, I earned all my rank through hard battlefield promotions. I have seen things and done things that would have scrambled lesser men's minds. We all have our reasons for taking up arms. But as I tell my men. We do this So Others may live.

1300 hours : SITREP
We had our first contact around 1100. A lance of light mechs, 2 Kit Foxes and Adders came up over the horizon, faster than I have ever seen them move, I spooled up the Gauss Rifle. Gave the orders to my men, not to give chase but to put them down. Sure enough no sooner had they been spotted, we saw a rain of LRMS in the air. I had my men form up so the AMS among them protected the others. While the Men with Guardian ECM moved into LRM Defence formation. The LRM threat nullified for the moment I turned my attention to the Scout lance, that had tried to target us. With precision focus fire I gave fire support to my men, relaying important data to them via my new C3.

Due to its speed and distance, I had to fire my Gauss Rifle, into one of the threats. I could see the round tearing through its armor in a shower of sparks. That hit combined with my men's directed fire destroyed the mechs leg, and following my lead, my men finished the job, putting the critically wounded mech down.

The attack continued with a couple of my men taking a beating, but when the sizzling of heatsinks and rumble of AutoCannon fire stopped, we were victorious. Partly due to my Cylops, and mostly to the valor of my men.

Our Mechs stand proud my Cyclops like a monster worthy of Commanding Respect. Its gaze over the Battlefield piercing but confident.

The skirmish had been won, but not the battle it would be a while before we were truly victorious on that battlefield.


1530 hours : Extract.
My men are currently doing what repairs to our mechs that we can before we fight our way to extract coordinates.

We have had some hard fighting, however, the extra intel and reach the distance of my Cyclops, has given us the advantage. While casualties are a hard fact that any good Commander has to accept, I am proud to say that we have not sustained any total losses today. Along with the salvage that we have taken from the battlefield, we are well equipped for what lay ahead.


Commander D4RK_4NG3L Signing out.
"So Others May Live"

Edited by DeLaguna, 15 May 2016 - 01:24 PM.

[DeLaguna]

For those who know my my previous entry when I was on the front lines with lower rank....
http://mwomercs.com/...post__p__763823

DeLaguna, on 14 May 2016 - 11:33 PM, said:

Commander's Log
Date: Classified
Location: Classified
Mission: Classified
Year: 3050

Command Mech: Loadout

• 10 Single Heat Sinks
  
• RT: Gauss Rifle & 2Tons Ammo Protected with CASE
  
• LA: Medium Laser
  
• RA: Medium Laser
  
• CT: Medium Laser
  
• LT: C3 Master
  
• B-2000 Computer

0500 hours : Abord Dropship on the way to the fight.

Today I will take my top of the line Cylops into battle today. The other commanders don't understand why I got this thing, but then again many of them didn't start on the front lines of battle like I have. How many of them ever piloted an ATLAS. They say spare parts are hard to find, and the Cyclops is weak. Most Mechs are weak if you know where to attack. Anyways, so the factory was destroyed in Caph but that was a long time ago, I trust Grumium Creations, I mean it's 3050! Leave the past in the past. My CP-11-C Variant is the best they have put out. I can command my troop and snipe at the Enemies weakness-exposing them for my men. It's a shame they had to remove the LRM's but that's what I have my men for. The new C3 Computer allows me to do so much more tactically. Not to mention they were able to put on 2 more tons of armor. I will say though I would love to remove this Gauss Rifle with its dangerous capacitors, however with it Case protected I should be safe. I almost crippled my ATLAS running a Gauss Rifle, my Case protection was the only thing to save me, made me a believer. If I had my way though I would switch it out with an ERPPC not as strong but if I threw in another C3 computer or something I could lead precision attacks on the enemy with better intel.

Unlike Brigadier C. Enright, I won't be as brash with my Cyclops. One thing I don't think he understands that you can be fluid and surprising without having to take huge risks. Anyways mine isn't painted Blue and White like a big target. My Cyclops fresh off the Factory floor I am using a special Camo, that will hide me from the enemy. I am not allowed to divulge more as I called in some favors from a Black Ops Regiment, working on some crazy Mech they didn't share the details but they told me some of the technology was researched for a model (BMT-3RX) and told me to upgrade to that mech if I wanted even better surprise factor. They didn't say when they would be finished with it. I could have pulled rank but I have a lot of respect for that unit, ever since that mysterious accident where a whole mech teleported and just disappeared test crew and everything.

I know some men put Extra decoy shields around the Cyclops Cockpit but seems to me that only increased the casualty and injury rate. If I keep my distance and use my lances correctly I should be able to avoid hits to the head.

Well, I have to power up the B-2000 and rally the men. Yea you read that Right I got one of the models with an operational B-2000 Computer by adjusting the parameters a little everything works great. Thanks to my rank they reserved it for me. Now do not go thinking life is easy, I paid my dues, unlike some other Officers. I didn't start with rank, I earned all my rank through hard battlefield promotions. I have seen things and done things that would have scrambled lesser men's minds. We all have our reasons for taking up arms. But as I tell my men. We do this So Others may live.

1300 hours : SITREP
We had our first contact around 1100. A lance of light mechs, 2 Kit Foxes and Adders came up over the horizon, faster than I have ever seen them move, I spooled up the Gauss Rifle. Gave the orders to my men, not to give chase but to put them down. Sure enough no sooner had they been spotted, we saw a rain of LRMS in the air. I had my men form up so the AMS among them protected the others. While the Men with Guardian ECM moved into LRM Defence formation. The LRM threat nullified for the moment I turned my attention to the Scout lance, that had tried to target us. With precision focus fire I gave fire support to my men, relaying important data to them via my new C3.

Due to its speed and distance, I had to fire my Gauss Rifle, into one of the threats. I could see the round tearing through its armor in a shower of sparks. That hit combined with my men's directed fire destroyed the mechs leg, and following my lead, my men finished the job, putting the critically wounded mech down.

The attack continued with a couple of my men taking a beating, but when the sizzling of heatsinks and rumble of AutoCannon fire stopped, we were victorious. Partly due to my Cylops, and mostly to the valor of my men.

Our Mechs stand proud my Cyclops like a monster worthy of Commanding Respect. Its gaze over the Battlefield piercing but confident.

The skirmish had been won, but not the battle it would be a while before we were truly victorious on that battlefield.


1530 hours : Extract.
My men are currently doing what repairs to our mechs that we can before we fight our way to extract coordinates.

We have had some hard fighting, however, the extra intel and reach the distance of my Cyclops, has given us the advantage. While casualties are a hard fact that any good Commander has to accept, I am proud to say that we have not sustained any total losses today. Along with the salvage that we have taken from the battlefield, we are well equipped for what lay ahead.


Commander D4RK_4NG3L Signing out.
"So Others May Live"

[Locuck]

NoComando

Story taken from the early history of the mechwarrior known only as Locuck.

Year-3036

Cerebreus Provence planet - Devil’s Breath

At a new recruit training ground a sergeant watch’s as new recruits climb into their assigned light mechs for orientation, when a voice over the command channel calls his name. “Sargent we have ten recruits ready and green, Very Green! Sir.” Switching over to the command channel Sargent Daniel Roe replies “Copy that private, Green just doesn’t quite encompass these country bumpkin’s.”

In the Devil’s Breath Defense Force Daniel Roe and seen most forms of combat he had been in ten light skirmishes and three all out battles against pirate raiders. Roe was one of the most experienced soldiers in the DBDF, But everyone had to do some form of babysitting in one way or another.

“Well Private lets kick these recruits into gear. Take five with you and walk them along the perimeter twenty kliks out.” Private Wilson’s Spider turns gives a crisp salute and heads off at a crisp jog ordering the first five recruits to follow him.

The other five recruits fall in behind Roe in the opposite direction each training lance to preform basic mech recon operations scouting fake targets in the field each recruit scored on the final amount of correct identified targets and time take.

Half way thru the recon operation, The command channel LED blinking brings the sergeants attention back to his command console. “Sargent Roe. This is recon vehicle AlphOne.. come in Sargent Roe.”
“Roe here. Go ahead recon.” Command had given Roe a scout vehicle so he could keep tabs on the other lance and have eyes on. A lesson learned from years of pirate raids.

“Sargent we have an unidentified heat signature at grid hotel eight.” Flipping on his nav map Roe notices the grid is thirty kilometers away and in Private Wilsons operational route. “Recon AlphOne close on heat sig and confirm.” “Recon copys confirm heat sig. recon out.”
If a pirate raider dropship had landed Roe would have received a code red alert from base. This had to be some farmers heavy land tractor or perhaps a forestry mech from the nearby town.

“Recon confirms only one heat sig, on a straight corse along the H line.”
“Roger that AlphOne do a flyby and be safe it’s probably just a forestry mech.” Roe replies.

As the seconds pass the Sargent begins to doubt his assumption and orders his recon lance to abort the operation and return to base.

“AlphOne closing on target. Reading as a mech of some kind… 800 meters out sir we have target lock. Sir it seams to be a Comando Sir. Speed 60kph 20 tons yes sir it is a commando. 1-B variant. It looks awful old sir its leaving armor scattered behind it sir. Moving very erratically along a straight path, attempting to contact pilot.”

Seconds tick by, hands sweating, nerves on edge. A scout for a raiding party! Couldn’t be….
“AlphOne, Sir we get no response from the commando. All we receive is a random clicking and garbled words. Attempting to clear it up sir patching it thru to you sir.”
“”PATCHING>>>> …--..-.---…..----.---….--- elp …--no--…--nd ..---.. ---==== Stupid frackin wires, why now.. WHY .!? Test run then this…;;---.—m ..— uckin …hit .. damn—Moth--…. What else could happen!“”

“Recon inform Private Wilson to intercept this rogue commando. And do another scout to make sure its just a rogue.” This had happened once before some old astech fool stumbles on a broken down mech long forgotten and rusting, restores and patches what he can and nearly crushes everything in his path.

Thirty minutes later as Roe approaches within range of radio contact with Wilsons lance he sees laser fire in the distance. But what he hears makes him even more worried than the Laser fire.

“Bart you shot me, you Cursed fool soot the commando not the Spider. BLASTED Bumpk--….!!” Wilsons voice shreaks from the radio. Private Wilson had engaged the commando and attempted to knock him down when one of the recruit trainees had opened up on the commando out of nervousness, Blasting Wilsons spider across the head and chest. Private Wilsons Comm signal was silenced!


As Roe closed the distance a wild shot from a medium laser scorched his cockpit, jinking right sarget Roe entered a mass of confused fire and general moshpit. One Wasp was on the ground attempting to rise but missing both arms at the elbow, another wasp limped horribly with a large scortch mark along its back and legs. Private Wilsons Spider warbled as he jump jetted clear of the melee missing much of his torso armor and a burn along his mechs head. Another Wasp and a Jenner in hot pursuit of the commando, Whos arm mounted Odin Large laser fired off randomly.

Roe had forgotten his own trainees in his haste to discover the laser fire. A second large laser from the Commando’s other arm sliced across this bunch of onlookers. Never having been in a live fire before the second lance panicked all running in different directions, cadet Garet was knocked to the ground and legged as cadet Moil thru his Jenner in reverse away from the deadly Laser. Daily in his Hollander headed South by southwest at a dead run and wasn’t seen till the next day. As Roe watches all this take place in what seemed seconds another more deadly action was taking place, the downed Wasp pilot had climbed out of his mech and was running in fear from the battlefield on foot he never made it, a Spider landed. Now if that’s not ironic I don’t know what is.

“Trainees ATTENTION!!! CEASE FIRE!!!” Sargent Roe Barked.

It took ten minutes to recall the trainees back from chasing the Commando. Roe leaving Wilson to watch the trainees chased down the rogue commando legged it in one alpha strike and knocked it over. Exiting his raven Roe noticed a young man leave the Commando’s pilot hatch, and walk towards him, pulling his slug thrower he kept a careful watch on the rogue pilot as he approached.

“Excuse me sir could you help me with my Commando? It has been acting crazy!” said the young man. ”My name is Locuck by the way, and I am on my way to the New Recruit training Grounds.”
Sargent Roe put the Slug thrower to his temple, thought better of it holstered it and slowly sadly walked back to his Raven to report the end of his career.

[Novakaine]

Ancient Warrior

I am aware, but not self-aware.
I am almost 280 years yet pieces of me are new as the morning sun reflecting off my armored skin.
I have died and been reborn many times.
I am Cyclops.
I am a Battlemech.
Though the memories are vague I remember the day I was born.
Or maybe I should say activated.
My programs consisted of theories and tactics thousands of battle throughout the history of mankind.
I have known nothing else since my activation.
My purpose is war.
My sole being - war.
Wars that are not my own, but of a being called Man.
I've ponder man on a hundreds bloody worlds in a thousand star systems.
Men and women that I have saved and those who I’ve the deaths of.
Being a machine I have no emotion for them, but I do count the loss of each.
A sad waste.
But because of the nueral link between myself and my many commanders.
I feel/remember their emotions.
Their victories, and their defeats.
Their elations and their utter despairs.
As I said I am not self-aware, I have little control over my own being, for I am simple a tool of destruction.
But something within my programming and maybe over time has granted me this bit of freedom.
Freedom of thought as Man would call it.
But that is a misnomer.
Freedom of thought is not freedom without action.
And I have so little control of my own actions.
Though my memories are dim I remember my - what is it that man calls it?
Hahaha yes I remember birthdates in 2770.
Laughter?
Yes it was Major Dupree he laughed a lot.
He was a happy soul equally happy reading books to his young daughter as he was sending mechwarriors to their deaths.
He was my third Commander and the first to fully mesh with my neural link.
Piloting a battlemech is no small feat; my other previous commanders suffer various ill effects due to the nuerohelmet.
The second even died of a brain hemorrhage.
From the time of my assignment to my third Commander in 2762 we trained.
A Cyclops is too valuable and expensive to deploy into minor skirmishes with pirates and rogue units.
However in 2764 we were deployed to the Periphery to quell a rebellion.
Little did any of us know this would become some of the most horrific events in human history.
The journey there .............
"Acolyte cut the feed."
"What?.... I mean Precentor."
"I said cut that feed now."
"Silenced sir."
"Dyson, how long have you know of this Cyclops."
"Only nine days you already in route to this facility
"Only myself and several acolyte's know of this remarkable discovery."
"One of which has had an unfortunate mishap."
"Yes most unfortunate."
" And to think this machine has been sitting in a warehouse here, for more than twenty years."
"At any rate your will Precentor?"
Precentor Martial Azizim sat staring and the battle roms displayed before him.
A almost living first person record of that horrible event.
The Amaris Civil War the most bloody event in Inner Sphere history.
All those linked roms from hundreds of C3 computers merged into one single machine.
A true AI.
"Precentor?"
"This is beyond one man even a Precentor Martial, but we need all the battlemechs we can lay our hands on now that the Clans are upon us."
"And I have been tasked to do just that."
Precentor Dyson trembled at those words and their meaning. He feared something wonderful was about to be lost forever.
Or maybe something horrible.
"Dyson I bide you remove the C3 from the Cyclops and keep it intact. This must go to Holy Terra for future study."
"But make ready that chasis for war."
"Understood Precentor Martial at once." A sigh of relief slid from Dyson's lips.
"I wonder?"
"Sir?"
"I wonder if it will understand what is going to happen to it."
"You could ask it yourself sir."
"When we first rebooted it as the acolyte was writing new command codes it asked where was it one the rom display."
"Astounding I think will."
The Precentor Martial sat down in place of the acolyte and worked the keyboard.
There was a pause as a fuzzy image came into view.
It was a small orb floating on a bed of stars.
Terra.
A tiny caption appeared under it.
Just a few words, but they have been spoken by men and women for centuries.
"Thank you sir, I'm going home."

Side notes:
Much this story I wanted to add more embellishment, but as usual real life preempts all.
Bad formatting and typo's so apologies.
I hope you enjoy my tale.
Thank you Novakaine.

Edited by Novakaine, 15 May 2016 - 07:07 PM.

[Windschreiter]

Spoiler

“It all starts here on Caph.
The cradle of the “white clan” – or more profane: 111th Division of the ComGuards. In 3050 We replaced the Third Crucis Lancers as garrison force alongside the 2nd Davion Guards.
With the majority of the planets industry and land destroyed and nuked during the Amaris Civil war and the succession wars Davion forces were eager to stay in the safe zone near Aswan on Brunnel. Would they’ve known the treasures to be found in the woods of Steam…
Blessed be Blake they didn’t know what we knew – there was a Cache in the Jungle. Made to deny the Usurper access to the gems of Caph. So they were waiting for us.
Out of the Exterminators, Javelins and Cyclopses I picked a Cyclops – the “Blakes Eye”, as it was his foresight that made all this possible, that helped pass the light of humanity on through the age of the succession wars. With the equipment from the Cache our techs retrofitted most of the Mechs. Blakes Eye traded the AC for a Gauss Rifle, to make up for the decreased close range Firepower the LRM 10 was replaced by two SRM4s.
Then history caught up on us. With the repairs and refits still going on I received order from the enlighted precentor martial Anastasius Focht – we were to leave for Tukayyid within the month. With the destiny of humanity at stake we made haste.
Arriving on Tukayyid we learned that we were to defend a passage of the Prezno River between Plough Bridge and Robyn’s Crossing against Clan Jade Falcon. Despite our lack of experience the Precentor Martial had confidence in us… and in his plans…” Precentor Loythat Kiana thoughts drifted away – back to the Riverbanks on Tukayyid…

“The Bridges are down – White Clan engage!” under the covering fire of the supporting tanks the Mechs of the 111th and the 201st Division pushed on the Falcon Guards line and hammered them with everything they got.
The Precentor hang back a bit, always checking the Readouts of the Tacticon B-2000 calling out weak targets and helping knocking them out with precise shots of the Gauss Rifle. “Blakes Eye” tilted to the right with every shot. Something wasn’t right after the refit. Cursing the rushed job Loythat adjusted her aim to make up for it. “Focus fire on that Masakari!” she ordered sharing her target information – and fired at the already battered right torso. Her Gauss slug hit home digging deep in the enemy Mech, ripping through the unprotected structure. As the Projectile exited on the back of the Mech the now disconnected right arm dropped to the ground. Watching in awe how seemingly easy the clan pilot kept his Mech upright dispite loosing half of it she couldn’t help but admire his piloting skills. But his skill didn’t help him a few seconds later when more of the ComGuards focused fire on him – the Masakari disintegrated under a deadly barrage of LRMs, lasers and more gauss shots. “May Blakes pea- DAMMIT” using the open ComGuard frequency she yelled: “Mechs on our six! Regroup!” – how the hell did they get there? As they started to form up clan Aerospace fighters showed up. With those new arrivals the tide of the battle turned ComGuards Mechs got swatten like flies. Her Cyclops took some heavy hits, ripping off a lot of Armor. When the calm voice of the precentor martial came through her comms. “Precentor Rho lead the remaining Elements of both Divisions to the fieldbase to rearm. Let the Falcons take the River – we are prepared for their arrival.”
“White Clan and Snow on the Mountains: BREAK and leave through these coordinates. I repeat: White Clan and Snow on the Mountains: BREAK and leave through these coordinates!” Loythat moved into a supporting position where she could cover the retreating Guards. Then she spotted a Visigoth coming up for another strafing run, carefully she aligned her gauss rifle and let loose a shot. Hitting the nose the projectile cut its way through the armor almost up to the cockpit of the clan fighter – though the hit did no internal damage it was enough to throw the pilot off of his aim. Instead of tearing open the rear armor of a Shootist lances of pulsating lasers hit the ground left of it. To the left she saw an Exterminator evaporate under the concentrated fire of a heavy Clan Star led by a Mad Cat. “Get out of here, NOW!” she pressed her troops.
With the clan fighters overhead and that reinforcements not abiding to the clan ritual of single combats she knew there was no way to stand up very long. Laying down covering fire with the Gauss, she saw many ComGuards Mechs torn apart.
Friends were dying .Tears started filling her eyes. ”PRECENTOR GET OUT OF HERE!” She shook her head as if she was trying to wake up. “GET OUT OF HERE NOW!” She looked up and saw a Black Knight standing in front of her Mech, his right arm was gone as was most of his armor, the Mech held upright mostly by the will of its pilot, but here he was her second in command yelling at her. She nodded slightly, slowly turning around “Blakes Eye” she muttered: “yes…”

She straightened up and continued: “Then things started to go south – the Clan Aerospace fighters gave us quite a beating. Nonetheless the 111th stood strong when all of a sudden we had Contacts to our rear. Knowing the position was lost with fresh OmniMechs attacking our rear I ordered a fighting retreat, we needed to regroup and rearm at our nearby fieldbase. The Falcons were headed to a trap anyway.

A trap we now know never really sprung. Instead of overwhelming them Falcon Guard in the city they turned and charged to their drop ships. They charged through us.

After some minor field repairs and rearming the remains of 111th and 201st Division were to move on to Olalla and help the 77th Division in their ambush of the Jade Falcon forces.
Approaching Olalla Loythat realized that the Falcons hadn’t entered the city as was planned.
Tapping her Tacticon in the Satellite uplink she could see that a single star of Mechs entered the city. She watched as they slowly moved up to the market place.
“The Falcons didn’t fall for it – White Monsters – ENGAGE!” The order wasn’t fully given as the Buildings of Olalla collapsed and gave away the Mechs they were hiding. The clan mechs which had entered the city were destroyed within a matter of seconds. As was planned. What wasn’t planned was the reaction of the rest of the falcon Mechs.
“Blakes blood… they are coming for us…” Precentor Kiana muttered. Powering up the gauss rifle she charged “Blakes eye” towards the remaining clan Mechs. No one followed her for what seemed to be an eternity. Then slowly the remaining Mechs of 111th and 201st Divisions started engaging the Clan mechs too.
Loythats charge wasn’t as haphazard as it seemed – she was after the leading Mad Cat. A jumping Mad Cat…
Her Cyclops weathered shot after shot from the rushing Clan Mechs. She lost the right arm and moved on searching. Lost the gauss rifle and moved on searching. Constantly shaken by hits she forced “Blakes Eye” onward – there was the Mad Cat! Letting loose with all she had left she tried to close to melee range when suddenly something got hit in the Cyclops Chest. SRMs blew up and sent massive shockwaves through the entire Mech. Another blast freed the Cockpit from the head. Loythat was ejected. Hanging from the Parachute she oversaw the battlefield… almost all Guard Mechs were destroyed and the Falcons pushed on to their dropships. At the Horizon she saw Mechs from the 77th Division coming after them.
She hit the ground hard and the air was pressed from her lungs. The world went black.
After she recovered in hospital she was ordered to be debriefed by the Precentor Martial. His office was Spartan with only a single Desk in it. He presented her a green two-centimeter ribbon with 8 black stars and a single silver star. “This is the Tukayyid Campaign Ribbon in green. You are accredited for killing 8 enemy Mechs represented by the 8 black stars and you were wounded represented by the silver star. – I know you have lost a lot, but I have to ask you nonetheless: Are you willing to rebuild the 111st Division? If not it will be disbanded” – “I’m honored by your offere precentor martial, but I have to decline.” “I understand – there are other ways you can serve our Order…”

As the last couple of my SRM rounds went off inside “Blakes Eye” and my Mech fell I saw that around me my unit was dying, ripped apart by the ferocious onslaught. I lost consciousness…

The 111th was almost killed to the last man that day. ..

Today “Blakes eye” and I are here to help train you to be good enough not to share that fate.” Loythat points her thumb over her shoulder towards the Cyclops towering over the assembled group of Acolytes.

I know this entry is too late - so I put it in Spoiler tags. Not happy with the debriefing part, but thought I'd share it nonetheless. Think you all should know about Loythat Kiana and her Cyclops "Blakes Eye"

Gauss Rifle replaces the AC, 2 SRM 4 replace the LRM 10 - armor is a bit upped with Ferro.

~1500 words
source: all sarna.net