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[Aranzor]

Please only submit completed stories to this thread.

Any questions or other comments should go to this thread:

http://mwomercs.com/...t-announcement/

[Ninjamoose]

It was supposed to be simple.

Everyone knows it never is for whatever reason; "A plan never survives contact with the enemy" and all that. But it wasn't supposed to be this difficult.

It was a simple smash and grab. The Steiners had a light mech presence (hired, of course) and no infantry/armored defenses in some backwater town only called River City. It had a small population and smaller economic impact, and the aerospace fighter and airfield that we were there to destroy was worth more than the entire town combined. I don't even know why that stuff was important, but the Ragequit Mercenaries don't like to ask too many questions.


They "volunteered" Rabbi, Raz, Johannsen and I. We were to take light stuff, specifically 60 tons and lower to keep up our mobility. We were assaulting an urban area so speed and stealth were key. I took my Raven 3L for ECM cover and close range firepower, Rabbi took his Shadowhawk 2K so we could have some long range cover, Raz took his Dragon 5N, and Johannsen took his trademark Locust 3M.

The briefing was short and simple. Same **** different day. Get in, neutralize any opposition, smash the airfield, try to keep the fighter salvageable. We were to come from the beach to avoid any nasty surprises in the forest, sweep and clear block by block, then wreck the airfield.

Loading was short and simple. We all took mechs on the lighter range of the scale, and the pilots of our dropship were surprisingly not bitchy about it.

Prep was simple. We landed in our staging area, offloaded the mechs, loaded the ammo bins. We thought that, if the Steiner mercs had any idea we were here they'd launch a pre-emptive strike. We were proven wrong.

When the mission started, that's when the **** hit the fan.

As soon as we made visual contact with the city, we received a thickly accented transmission coming from somewhere inside.

"I'll give you one chance to turn around and leave, mark up the mission as a failure, and say the intel was wrong and there were more defenses than you anticipated."

We stop, watching and waiting for movement. Raz spoke up with his authoritative (some would say overconfident) voice;

"This is Razgriz Gundam of the Ragequit Mercenaries. Why don't you make this easier for us and have you and your boys eject? The salvage would be appreciated."

"Ragequit Mercenaries? This is who you send me? Sad."

Raz switched to closed comms.

"**** these guys. I want a block by block sweep, two streets apart. Don't fire until you make visual contact. We still don't know what these guys are running in, but it's presumably close ranged and fast. Johann, take point."

We bark out confirmations in unison as Johann gunned the throttle on his little 20 tonner.

We started the process of corner-checking, marking points of interest, and moving fast, comms silent and everyone on passive radar.

"Raz," Rabbi speaks up quietly, "it's a pretty bad idea to split up and sweep solo through a city like this when we don't know where they are, or even *who* they are. Should you and I stick together, with Moose supplying ECM cover?"

"Noted, but no. Chances are the Steiners hired some no-named Good Ol' Boys from around here. They're probably running whatever they could scrape up or beg for. I'm not too worried."

I was to the far left of the formation, which might be why I got away.

We're making best speed through the city, but hell knows that means nothing with how city fighting works. Lots of tight corners, lots of little nooks and crannies for baddies to hide in, lots of places for traps.

"Hey Raz," Johann calls out.

"What's up."

"I got a tunnel here going underneath the airfield, I'm gonna check it out".

"Team hold. Be careful, we still don't know where they are. Tell us if you find anything worth salvaging"

I brought my Raven to a stop, and idly kick around some cars on the street. Sucks for that guy, but I'm bored and we were supposed to be razing the place when we're done here anyways.

The line crackles to life and a nigh-unintelligible southern accent screams out:

"OH **** HE'S GOT-"

We all stopped dead, listening to the unmistakable sound of an open mic receiving nothing.

"Johann? You there buddy?" Is all Rabbi manages to squeak out.

Raz takes back over.

"Get to the airfield. Now. Moose, check out the tunnel and try to find Johann."

I grumble, off mic of course. I sprint towards the tunnel.

Thankfully I was coming from the river-side of the city, and he didn't see me, but as I round a building near the mouth of the tunnel I see him.

An Atlas, a clearly custom variant judging by its weapon loadout of 6 Medium Pulses, and AC/10, and LRM10 struts his way out of the tunnel, turning towards the middle of our formation, straight towards Raz. His mammoth, 100 ton Atlas, painted deep green, emblazoned with a sickly yellow image of a boar's skull, was an absolute powerhouse. It was loaded to the brim with both long range and close ranged weaponry, capable of reducing my little Raven to slag. If all else failed, he could just beat me to death with his sledgehammers disguised as hands.

I finally find my voice.

"WHAT THE ****? THAT'S THE BOARS HEAD! HE'S MOVING TOWARDS YOU GUYS!"

Raz cuts in.

"Moose, settle down. You're sure it's-OH ****"

I sprint towards Raz's last location as I spot, quickly jetting above the city, an ejection pod.

As I rounded the corner to the square where Raz was last broadcasting from, I spotted the broken wreck of his Dragon, arm ripped free and missing, center torso torn open with a hole that you could drive a forklift through, laid flat on its back, remaining arm and leg splayed out.

I called out to my remaining team member.

"Rabbi, you good?"

"Yeah I'm good. Where are you?"

"Raz's last known. he got out in his pod. I'm making my way to your position. Lets get the **** out of here."

I floor it towards Rabbi's location, when I make the mistake of flipping on my active radar. I spot a red blip... Right in front of me.

Thank god my mic wasn't open, and that I must've surprised The Boars Head as much as he surprised me. He crashed through the building ahead while turning towards me. He sprays out with his medium pulses, the emerald streaks splashing off of the building behind where I was just standing, my SRM6 leaving pockmarks on his torsos, as I ducked into an alleyway.

"Rabbi I've got visual, he's two streets north-northwest of Raz's last known, I'm taking the long way, make best speed to the beach, converge two streets south-southeast."

I weave between the buildings to the marker I set up to find Rabbi waiting, and we start making our way back to the exfil point on a main road. We thought we were in the clear, the avatar of death being sated and letting us go.

Thats when, from between the buildings, he steps out right in front of us, eyes black and dead.

Rabbi yelps in panic, I slammed my throttle to max reverse, ignoring my mechs groans of protest.

The Atlas lashes out with what I recognized as Raz's autocannon arm and swings low, knocking Rabbi's legs out from underneath him. He followed up with a savage, overhead smash square into his CT, crushing it and washing the makeshift club in radioactive fire. Rabbi punches out, but his pod skitters across the asphalt and burrows deep into what looks like an apartment complex.

I stopped, as the Atlas stood up to its full height and glared down at me.

"Tell them what you saw here, and tell them that The Boars Head sent you."

He turned and dissapeared back into the buildings.

I got out. I made it back to the base, unharmed. I told command what happened and they rotated me to field tech, which to be honest I am A-OK with.

The salvage teams were never able to get in, every one being lost trying to get into the city.

Rabbi made it back on foot, pretty ****** up from making a no-knock entrance into a set of buildings, and they tracked down Raz in the middle of the bay. Johann never came back.

That's the operation that convinced me that urban ops are not my cup of tea.

Edited by Ninjamoose, 12 October 2016 - 02:18 PM.

[Windschreiter]

Category 3 - unnamed heroes; 1300 words

Twelve


Back in 3024 DC liaison was looking for a light Mech-only company to garrison the world of Valentino near the DC/FS Border. They were putting out good money for a low risk job – it was too good an opportunity for our CO Nicole „The Queen“ Renner to let it slip by.

So in June the “242nd Suicide Kings“ were setting up garrison on a hellish world full of Volcanoes. It was all very quiet and we got used to the hot temperatures, fooled around and thought we were the kings of this world.

We were playing a game of draw poker. I just picked up my Hand. Went through the Cards – Ace of Spades… Ace of Clubs… Eight of Clubs… Eight of Spades… „SADDLE UP! WE MOVE OUT!“ the Queen shouted as she was running to her Phoenix Hawk. We dropped our cards and the guys saw my hand, as we started to run to our Mechs Joe said: “Don’t worry – this means nothing!“ with a canny smile he dodged over to his Raven. “Worry? When I find the time I will“ I thought to myself as I scrambled up to the cockpit of my JR7-F.

Damn its hot in here before even powering up. Already sweating I flip the buttons to engage the starting sequence while pulling my neurohelmet on. Then came the sensation. All systems nominal. “Striker lance report in!“
“Striker Two – Jenny and I are good to go!“
“Striker four – Ready“
“Striker Three? What’s your status?“ – “Just a Sec Sarge“ -“„Damn it Joe! Command and Pursuit are already moving!“ – “Ready“

We made haste to regroup with the others. The Queen was briefing us on the go. Obviously some FedSuns Raiders sneaked to the Surface. Intel reported 8-12 Mechs moving to “Terra Therma“ – a huge volcano with a thermal power plant in its centre.

”Suicide Kings listen up! We take position up high in D5 and wait for them. If things go south so do we – our escape route is through the centre up to H6.“

The first sign of the enemy was a double PPC shot tearing through the armour of Charles’ Wasp Right torso setting of the Ammo. The Wasp got engulfed in a Ball of fire and then was gone. Charles was gone. “Windschreiter and Vertigo take Lances Striker and Pursuit down there and mix ‘em up! Tell us what we’re fighting!”

The Queen started sniping away with her large laser joined by both Panthers PPCs. With the high outside temperatures they wouldn’t be able to hold up the barrage for long. We threw our Mechs to a full run down to D4. “Striker Lance we move D4/C4 and try to get their backs!”
PPCs and Laserbolts were flashing over our heads. The Davies don’t seem to have adopted to temps, they fire too fast. Well at least they might be shutdown or riding the red line when we get them.

A Warhammer appearing on our right flank turned that “when” to an “if”. He let loose a volley of Medium Lasers and SRMs. The Lasers found the Right leg of the Raven, most of the SRMs went wide.

“DAMN HE GOT ME!” Joe was screaming at the edge of panic. Turning to the Raven I saw that he was limping – without his speed he was no match for the Warhammer. “Striker Lance! Take down Alpha NOW!” I ordered as I marked the Warhammer as Alpha. The Raven was desperately trying to get away, but his opponent wouldn’t let his prey escape that easy.

Firing both PPCs at once shut the Hammer down. Bloodlust soared in my ears. He. Was. Going. Down. I charged at him firing two lasers a time to avoid overheating.

The Warhammer tried to back off as soon as he powered up again, but it was too late. We were over him. Both Jenners and the LCT tore through his back armour. Laser and Machine gun fire released the mini sun inside. Cooking the pilot alive.

Still high on adrenaline we returned to Joe and his Raven.

“Come on Joe, we get you to cover!” – no response. As I moved closer I saw why: the PPCs both hit the cockpit. Leaving only a black hole where my Friend sat. Tears were dwelling up my eyes.

“we’re a couple of shooting stars, Joe, and we’ll never be stopped.” I murmured in my cockpit unable to do anything… think anything …

“STRIKER LANCE WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Thrown back to reality I checked my Minimap: only six of us left. “We ran into trouble – Joe’s dead...”

“GET A GRIP WINDSCHREITER! Regroup in D6!”
Adrenaline kicked in again – rage took over and carried me on.

Two Firestarters and the Queens PHX we’re fighting two Wolverines when we joined up on them.

They were too focussed on our Phoenix Hawk that they didn’t notice us until our Lasers found them. It was a brawly mess, Lasers melting armour, autocannon shells flying through the air with the thunder echoing from the nearby mountains.

We focussed our fire on one Wolverine, but the heat was affecting our targeting and he was very agile. Almost dancing through our fire. Not good enough. Conrad charged his Jenny up beside the WVR and alpha’d his leg off. The Wolverine fell. Jenny froze in place. And was gone.

The rest of us ripped apart the fallen Wolverine viciously, but the other WVR took his chance and ran.

“We take him down! Come with me! “ I shouted over the comms. “Negative! There are 4 more contacts that way, Windschreiter. We retreat.”

“But…”

“This is war, Windschreiter… Pe-“

Two PPCs hit Fernandez’ Firestarter right torso from behind, cutting through the paper thin armour and wreaking havoc in the delicate internals and ripping the right torso off the Mech. “MOVE” the Queen ordered as the Firestarters right arm dropped useless to the ground.

We turned and ran towards the entry. Then another double PPC hit on Fernandez’ Firestarter broke through the armour of the centre torso unleashing the energy of artificial lightning in its interior, disintegrating the Firestarter.

Only four left. Charging.

“Keep pushing, He’ll shut down soon if he keeps up that rate of fire!”

Romero lead the Charge in his Locust. Moving up the ramp he got obscured by rocks.

“BATTLEMASTER!” was the last thing he said – then he disappeared from the Radar.

Three left.

The three of us turned the corner and only 100 meters ahead stood a Battlemaster. In the next instant the air was filled with Medium Lasers, PPCs and SRMs from the BLR – vaporising our second Firestarter.

Two left.

The Battlemaster still wouldn’t shut down. My targeting computer finally labelled it as “HELLSLINGER”

“Push past him! WE NEED TO GET OUT!”

At 30 meters his PPCs were useless. But not his Medium Lasers and SRMs. And then the Queen was gone.

I don’t know how I got past him or through the centre to our escape point. When I got there I lost one arm and most of my armour. And my entire unit. My friends. My family.

I will find the Hellslingler and I will take him down.

All that’s left from the 242^nd Suicide Kings is me and this song from ancient Terra:

„They were twelve of the bravest men that I've ever seen
They were waiting on a mountain top to defend their queen
Against the rambling troops of bandits hiding in the stormy night
And when they heard hollow steps nearing they knew they had to fight

They were twelve and they were fighting,
Their blood covering their hands
Against the growing crowd of enemies no one of them could stand
Just the youngest of our brave men was resisting in his rage
But when he also fell he left this world at fifteen years of age

They were twelve of the bravest men that I have ever seen
Much too young and much too courageous and much too valiant“

(authors note: I know that the Hellslinger has some L2 tech in it, but I figured there might have been a version with 3025 tech - update: read up on it on Sarna[should've done that beforehand *cough] so a Star League era Mech still around in 305* had been around in 3024 )

Edit: Authors note 2: Song is called "Twelve" by Peter Heppner
Edit2: added category and word count
Edit3: corrected category and Authors note

Edited by Windschreiter, 16 October 2016 - 04:09 AM.

[Highlighter]

Hero 'Mech: Linebacker
Hero 'Mech Pilot (In-Game): Unspecified
Hero 'Mech Pilot (In-Story): Star Commander Kirei Kerensky, Clan Wolf (in Exile)

Category: Category 3 (No Pilot Attributed to Hero 'Mech)
Word Count: 1663

“That guy scares me,” Raymond said as he sipped away the foamy head of his beer. “That guy over there.” The blond-haired mercenary pointed across the room towards a group of men and women huddled around a table. They murmured a few words, and soft laughter broke out.

Sergeant Johnson, sitting to Raymond’s right, sighed and turned in his chair to get a better look at the man to which Raymond was pointing. “The Asian-looking guy?” Raymond nodded, and Johnson squinted. “Why’s he scare you, Ray?”

Raymond grimaced. Though he had known everyone at the table for years, he wished he hadn’t said anything. His lance mates would likely needle him for months. “You guys don’t recognize him? He was one of the Clanners who kicked our asses.”

“Yeah, so?” Priori De Vries, the third member of Bravo Lance, Second Company, Jaxxer’s Juggernauts, popped a pretzel into her mouth.

Raymond shook his head. “He’s the one that was totally cool during the briefing. He was just standing there relaxed and crap. And, he’s the same guy who personally took us apart.”

“You know, I think Raymond’s right.” Perry Cox, the lance’s intellectual, adjusted his glasses and shrugged. “Yeah, that’s him. And let me say, when I saw him lead his star into the ‘Mech bay, well, I got the chills. Everyone was gawking at the splendor of the assembled ‘Mechs, and that guy just heads to his mount without a word. He was way too calm.”

Raymond was slightly relieved to know that someone else shared his sentiments. “Yeah, he’s the guy that aced us,” he said, referring to the results of the combat exercise. Second Company was refining its anti-Clan tactics, and had been assigned to take out a single Star of five ‘Mechs as a warm-up. Twelve against five should have placed the odds for them, but they had lost. The remaining Clan Mechwarrior had managed to disable over a lance’s worth of ‘Mechs.

Johnson chuckled as he recalled the match. “You guys don’t know how much cursing I did when I was the first to fall. And then to see that one guy take all of you down? Man, I was yelling and screaming in my War Dog.”

The others laughed along with their lance leader, but Raymond was quiet. He had been the final Inner Sphere warrior to fall to the Clanner, and it hadn’t been a fun experience. The Clanner had toyed with Bravo Lance, and then toyed with him. Raymond wasn’t a green Mechwarrior, in fact he was a veteran of the Clan Wars, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had had his head handed to him so easily when the odds were so stacked.

The mercenary downed the rest of his beer in a single gulp and slammed the mug hard against the oak table. The others glanced sharply at his direction, and he muttered a quick apology. “But, who is that guy?” he asked as a waitress refilled his mug. “Do we know anything ‘bout him?”

“Well,” Cox began, and his lance mates focused their attention on him. “I did some research on the Clan unit before the exercise. Turns out they’re from the Fourth Guard, and it appears they’re Saber Star, which would explain why we got our asses kicked.” Cox pointed at the Asian-looking Clansman. “And the man who did the butt-kicking, he’s Star Commander Kirei Kerensky.”

“Who’re the others?” Raymond asked.

“I’m not sure, but I think the bronze-haired woman is Miri Ward,” Cox answered. “She’s also an ace pilot, and the two are supposed to be very close, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah? And who’s Kirei Kerensky?” Priori interrupted in her characteristic bored tone. She snatched another pretzel from the bowl in the center of the table. “I’ve never heard of him, so why do I care?”

Sergeant Johnson nodded in agreement. “Yeah, can’t say I’ve heard of him either. Not like Jaime Wolf or the Black Widow or even Kai Allard.”

Perry Cox wiped his glasses on his uniform shirt and took a sip of his drink before answering. “According to the records, he’s a quiet guy but has a reputation with the Clans. It’s not surprising that we haven’t heard of him since he keeps a pretty low profile otherwise.”

“So, what’s he done?” Raymond asked nervously. His palms were sweaty as his mind continued to reply those few minutes he had spent dueling the Clan warrior. “To have won a Bloodname must mean he's pretty good, and the Kerensky name at that, but to also be famous with the other Clans?” Raymond shook his head. “He’s got to have done some pretty hot stuff.”

“He has. Apparently he’s Clan Wolf’s best duelist, and he’s their primary instructor on dueling techniques. Saber Star is his personal unit, and he’s allowed pretty much free reign in most engagements.” Cox smiled. “Against Clan opponents, he’s deadly. Rumors say he killed an entire Jade Falcon battalion during their Refusal War.”

“No way,” Johnson interrupted. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Only Natasha Kerensky and Kai Allard are that good.”

Cox held his hands up as if he were defending himself. “Hey, I’m just saying what the rumors are. It’s probably closer to a company, but you know how rumors go. His service record says it’s been years since he was last shot out of his ‘Mech. Apparently, his piloting skills are legendary. No one’s recalled having been able to knock him down, even after they’ve taken off his ‘Mech's arms.”

Priori nodded. “I can see that. When I fought him, he simply took the stream of autocannon fire as if I were hitting him with chaff. Then he sidestepped my missiles and lasers. I couldn’t keep a target lock.”

“…And then he sent a burst of autocannon fire through your canopy.” Priori gave Raymond a dirty look, but he shrugged it off. “That’s what happened. After he capped you, he spun and did this crazy side-skip. I missed his rear and ended up hitting you instead.”

“It’s funny, “ Cox added, “that they started to bid his Star away during their bidding process.” At his companion’s confused looks, Cox rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Oh, come on. You guys are studying to fight Clanners, and you don’t even know what bidding is? Bidding is where they see which commander can take the objective with the fewer units.” He sighed. “Dumb asses. Anyways, he was constantly bid away but he eventually fought a Trial of Refusal, and was allowed to participate in the battles.”

Johnson shook his head at the absurdity. “Hamper yourself by removing your greatest weapon? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“We are talking about Clanners,” Priori muttered.

“So, yeah,” Cox continued, “this Kerensky apparently doesn’t take bondsman because of how many he’s defeated. Duels generally end in less than a minute as he places headshots and leg shots. It’s uncanny how accurate he is.”

“Hell, it’s not even that,” Raymond said, “but how he’s able to get those shots off while running all over the place.” The Mechwarrior groaned as he recalled his duel. Kerensky had spun his Linebacker after a mad dash past Raymond's Atlas. The Clan heavy OmniMech's superior speed had carried it into Raymond's rear arc, and the battery of small lasers had done their job. The beams had sliced into Raymond’s left leg, exploiting earlier damage and fusing the knee joint. A second laser burst, even before Kerensky had finished the pirouette, had locked the entire leg up, rooting Raymond to the ground.

“He froze me there, gimped me, and all I could do was try to keep him from coring my butt," Raymond said while staring into space. “My lasers and Gauss wouldn’t track. He was always just outside my firing arc.” Kerensky had used his Linebacker’s excellent dueling capabilities to neutralize his opponent. “After side stepping my blasts, he took my right arm, then my left.” Raymond shook his head. “His autocannon kept on barking, and all I could do was watch my armor schematic go from green to yellow to red."

Sweat beaded on his brow as he remembered that final moment. Kerensky had stood right in front of his disabled ‘Mech and raised the Linebacker’s arm-mounted Ultra autocannon to head level. Raymond blinked as the image of staring down the bore flooded his mind. “And then it was over.” He shook his head to clear the image. “He opened a frequency with me and simply said ‘Bang!’. I almost pissed my pants.”

The group was quiet for a few moments as they all reflected upon that match. They had all faced Clan opponents in the field, and knew the supreme skill Clan warriors possessed, but none had been so utterly destroyed in what should have been an extremely unbalanced battle.

Johnson broke the silence after a few minutes. “Yo, Cox, you making this feth up? How do you know so much?”

Cox chuckled. “I’ve got my ways and secrets. Hey, Raymond, where’re you going?”

Raymond didn’t reply as he got up from the table and walked towards Saber Star. Miri Ward noticed him and nudged the Star Commander. The group of Clansmen stopped their chatter and Kerensky turned his chair to face the Inner Sphere Mechwarrior. Nervous, Raymond licked his lips and extended his hand. “Star Commander, you probably don’t remember me, but I was your final victim this morning. I just wanted to say that I am honored to have faced you in combat.”

It took a moment, but Kirei Kerensky smiled as he recognized the mercenary. He stood and shook the man’s hand. “And it was an honor to have fought against your company, Mechwarrior Raymond Icanza. Let me tell you, you did much better than I had expected, having put down two members of my Star. That is no mean feat, especially since you piloted an Atlas. I do not typically have such difficulty taking down assault 'Mechs, but you proved quite resilient. My congratulations to you.”

Stunned that the Star Commander even knew his name, Raymond swallowed hard. “To be honest, sir, none of my lancemates thought we would be taken apart so easily when we saw the odds." He pointed to the rest of Bravo Lance. "They're still not sure how your lighter 'Mechs took out an entire assault lance."

A trace of amusement tugged at the corners of the Star Commander's mouth. A slight smile. "Is that so, Raymond Icanza? Assault 'Mechs may be able to level city blocks in a single salvo, but their cumbersomeness has ever been their greatest weakness. 'Know yourself and know your enemy', as an ancient Terran philosopher once said. I hope your lancemates have learned a valuable lesson."

"We certainly have." His nervousness retreating, Raymond matched the Clanner's hint of a grin with one of his own. "As I said, sir, it was an honor to face you in combat. I'm grateful for this opportunity."

"It was an honor, Raymond Icanza." Kerensky returned the mercenary's salute. "I look forward to the day when we fight side-by-side to protect the Inner Sphere from the Crusader Clans."

Edit 2: (More) minor text fixes.

Edit 1: Minor text fixes (grammar).

Edited by Highlighter, 22 October 2016 - 04:08 PM.

[Odanan]

Spoiler

Warning: first sketch. I probably will need to revise this later.
Also, keep in mind that English is not my mother thong, so please be gentle.

Hero mech: Cicada X-5
Pilot: Gibson Federated test pilot
Word counting: 1285
Category: 3 (or 2?)

URBAN BURIAL


“I should had bring Inferno ammo.” That’s what Lieutenant Oda had in his mind when he saw the angry mob barricading the main street. How did he get into that situation?

***

When mechwarrior Frithnant Aguiar-Oda left the Free Worlds League Military, he wanted to stay away from the horrors of war. Sure it wasn’t easy to leave the armed forces, especially for a young battlemech owner, but his superiors seemed quite happy to get rid of the sole survivor of Battle of Wing’s only fiasco.

He considered resuming his engineering course, but instead, thanks to his family’s contacts, managed to get in touch with the Gibson Federated BattleMech’s research division. Soon, his formation and experience piloting a Cicada battlemech granted him a place as consultant of the X line of CDA prototypes.

That was 7 months ago.

Today he was in this Periphery planet, working for a private security company called Cerberus, trying to keep alive the despised provisory mayor of the city. When Gibson Federated lend him one of the X-5 prototypes, they were probably not expected him to test it in a real combat situation. But here he was.

He opened communications with Lieutenant Mei Burin, his lover. She was the main reason he joined the Cerberus Security and was his only lancemate in that mission. “Mei, I got a bad feeling about this. It’s like the mob is waiting for something.”

“How is that VTOL’s ETA?”, she replied.

“15 minutes.”

Half an hour ago, the mayor asked the two mechwarriors to disperse the crowd, suggesting he and Lieutenant Burin to open fire against the civilians. If that was the government’s idea of keeping the order, no wonder people were revolting. When even the police was not coming to help, Oda called for evacuation.

“Frithnanth, I’m detecting 3 armored vehicles 2.8 kms East and closing.” It was Mei speaking. She was the only person who called him by his first name.

“This is no simple riot – it’s an uprising.” He took a deep breath and said: “Mei, I want you to evac with the staff. As soon as you guys are safe, I will get out of here as fast as I can.”

“No way I’m going to abandon my mech!” That was the girl he knew: fierce and stubborn. Mei lost her family’s mech 4 years ago – she would die before losing a mech again, even if that Urbanmech she piloted was not hers. Oh well, time for plan B.

“OK, OK. Listen, we can make it. You need to do exactly as I say.”

***

The Gibson Federated BattleMechs spare no expenses with this X-5 prototype. It was a test bed for the most advanced technology available: Endo Steel structure, Ferro Fibrous armor, double heat sinks, a huge Extra Light engine… of course the production cost would be impeditive, when you could buy an assault mech armed to the teeth for the same price. When Oda charged against the 3 rebel vehicles, he was glad that at least this Cicada was well armored and fit for close quarters combat, with 4 medium class lasers and 2 short range missile launchers.

It was not wise to engage the three tanks alone, but he needed to keep them far from the town hall, or any lucky shot could take down the fragile VTOL transport when it came for the rescue.

But the crowd still surrounded the main square and didn’t retreat when he came closer. On the contrary – at the approach of the dozen-meter tall battlemech, some agitators started lighting cocktail molotovs.

Oda aimed the crosshairs up and shot. The two pairs of missiles exploded in the windows of the office building’s second floor, releasing a multitude of glass shards over the mob. With the people running to find shelter, he pushed the mech full throttle. The Cicada responded like a huge sprinting feline, quickly reaching about 130 km/h. That was faster than his old CDA-3C, but with a series of well-done small leaps, Oda left the block without stepping over any civilian.

He was at range with the enemy vehicles very soon: two Vedette Medium Tanks and one Bulldog Main Battle Tank. Those insurgents were not kidding. Each one of those vehicles surpassed his mech in weight, and that Bulldog packed quite a punch. He had no chance of fighting them openly, so the mechwarrior resorted to the guerrilla tactics he learnt on the planet Wing.

Oda used his speed to shoot and hide, while the tanks tried to trap him. It was like a game of cat and mouse, only with three cats and one mouse. But the mouse had a bite. The X-5’s weapons loadout proved very effective in that urban environment, even if the missile feeding mechanisms jammed a couple of times under stress. “If I survive this day, I will need to report it to the R&D guys”, he thought.

Minutes passed like hours, but he finally disabled the second Vedette’ tracks: one less threat to worry about. His mech was heavily damaged, however, and there was still the Bulldog, now heading unopposed to the town hall. No news of the evacuation yet.

The tank’s heavy armament was all in the rotating turret, so an open chase was suicide. Instead, Oda turned off his radar to make his detection harder (a trick he used a lot in his sniping days) and reached the parallel street. He ran for 2 blocks and made a hard turn. That would put him just after the tank, and allow one full alpha strike into the Bulldog’s thinner rear armor. But either the vehicle was slower than the expected or it was looking for him: Oda suddenly appeared right in front of the enemy.

He instinctively shot point-blank all of the mech’s weapons. The lasers burned through the tank, leaving huge fiery lines over the armor, but not breaching it. The missiles exploded all over the target, but without serious consequences. To make things worse, there was an abnormal heat spike in the Cicada’s engine, probably caused by a damage on the reactor’s shielding. The overheating mech froze its myomers and shut down, right there. “Oh no, oh no!” shout the mechwarrior, punching the console buttons. Through the armored glass, he could see the tank’s turret slowly turning (almost as if savoring the moment) and aiming the main gun right into his cockpit. He hopelessly ducked, trying to protect himself.

There was a huge crash of smashing metal and explosions and the Cicada fell backwards.

A stunned Lieutenant Oda opened his eyes: he was alive! And, as far as he could see, the cockpit was intact. He turned on the mech and carefully executed a stand up maneuver.

The Bulldog tank was destroyed and through the smoke and flames, he saw something moving. Then an awkward UrbanMech found its way out of the burning wreck. “Mei!”

He tried the radio, but found his communications were busted, so he switched to the hand-held transceiver.

“What the hell was that!?” Oda asked, completely dumbfound.

“I didn’t have a firing angle”, Mei replied.

“How the hell did you get here, anyway?” She was in a 30 km/h mech, after all.

“I came jumping over the buildings. The mayor and his entourage are safe, by the way”, she said.

At least Oda didn’t need to come back and pick her up. Mission accomplished, apparently.

There was no time to lose. “We better get going”, he said. “Do you realize it will take like 10 hours for your trashcan to reach the next town, don’t you?”

"It might take a little by longer... I think I broke my leg actuators with the fall."

"Oh f*ck."

Edited by Odanan, 21 October 2016 - 03:55 AM.
new ending

[TygerLily]

Category 2
Word Count: 2462
_____________________________________________________________________

NAMES

“Don’t name it…”

Laughter. I watched from across the barracks. A tight company to which I was the newest recruit.

“Why not?”

“We’re not even going to be on this planet that long,” came the answer simultaneous with the question. A feral puppy was growling his fiercest and jerking at private Hill’s boot. Hill was better known as ‘Hollywood’ out in the field.

I’d never had a dog. Too much moving around as a kid; places that never allowed pets. Plus mom barely even remembered to feed me and my brother most nights. A dog. What a joke. Didn’t mean I never wanted one.

I snapped from musing as a body slumped down beside me. It was the commander, Captain ‘Kingpin’ Hout.

“Hey,” was the greeting. Surprisingly friendly but then this was a private army. Not like it was in the academy and the couple years I spent assigned to - eh, didn’t matter.

“What, uh,” he paused to nod a greeting to ‘Midnight’ across the bay. “So what are we going to call you when you’re out in that Commando?”

Did it matter? These guys had been riding the easy contracts while the Clans had been crushing all the first responder forces - like my old unit. Demand for MechWarriors was high, supply was low. The c-bills were too good to pass up now for guys like this. The only recourse left to veterans of the Clanner first wave was to cobble together a basic mercenary outfit and head back out. Or for us ronin types, to join up with a unit headed that direction.

Either way, I’d cared about people before; a lot of people. Good, dead people who deserved their names - Tomás, Erik, Angelle, Mika, other Eric...'Zorro,' 'Red,' 'Ringo,' 'Cats,' 'Horsey'...the list went on but the unit had been annihilated, scattered. They had earned their names.

The adversary had come with a superior technology not seen since the Star League and a ruthlessness all too familiar to this age. We were all dead already. Going back was the only choice. Going back was suicide. Going back was about revenge. What good was a name? The only thing that mattered was the gun you rode in on.

“Just...how about just ‘Commando’, sir.”


* * *


Tukkayid // 3052
Forest’s End - 24km from Skupo
ComGuard, 10th Army, 66th Division

I was positioned as vedette eight hundred meters northeast of my company, Charlie. My observation post was recessed a bit from the edge of the wood-line. Our company was the furthest east of the twenty seven companies comprising the the 66th Division which was in turn one of the four divisions comprising Task Force Jamestown. Most of TFJ was embroiled in heavy combat with Clan Wolf’s 3rd and 7th Galaxies, preventing them from advancing into Skupo. The city sat at an extreme elevation and was home to an incredible amount of artillery batteries that had been covering Inner Sphere troop movements in the area.

We were positioned about fifteen kilometers east of the TFJ main body made up of the 278th and 116th Divisions. Earlier engagement reports revealed the Clanners had fielded around seventy more units than expected. Seems another Cluster had joined the fray. Main engagement force had their work cut out for them.

Names...names. I had to memorize it all lest I fail one of the commander’s pop quizzes and get busted over to garrison duty. No room for the half-committed here. I was only a weapon of war now; I belonged here. Tukkayid was a hard place to get to. Did it matter who did the fighting? Maybe to historians. All that really mattered was that Clanners would die to today; or I would and join my brothers from...ah, it didn't matter. I’d gone back to the Clan front with some no-name mercs, I fought, they died. I was here now.

For the better part of the day the 66th had been engaged in a fast push - as fast as a division can be moved - into the enemy’s flank as the eastern zone had been quiet. Quiet is wasted time not firing. Thirty kilometers to the west-southwest our sister unit, the 283rd Division, was keeping the western flank locked down but was showing the early signs of needing reinforcement. It seemed our plan was to put some pressure on the east and give a little relief to the main body and western flank. Plus it guaranteed us some action against these trashborn Clanners.

The cockpit air was stifling if I turned my head to either side but, straight on, cool air flowed back into the pilot compartment from the life support systems of my Commando. I’d been sitting motionless - well, the Commando had - in a sprinter's three-point start position for half the day; ready to bolt if I were spotted in the OP. In actuality, I was in a semi-standing position nestled to a combat seat inside head of the Mech. My feet extended down just past the shoulder line. The distinction between myself and this 25-ton war machine had blurred to non-recognition within ten minutes of engaging the neurohelmet.

My position overlooked the wide, shallow Duoro valley. Spotty woodlands would have only provided minimal concealment for large Clanner troop movements - which never came - but soon now the 66th were going to be moving through that area themselves. The horizon line curved behind the trees about 4,988 meters out, according to the rangefinder.

Somewhere out there was another set of eyes. My opposite. Watching for our own movements.

I felt the ground vibrations before I saw the form of a Mech settle beside my own. I had thought I was the furthest Mech to the East but this pilot - in a 45-ton Phoenix Hawk - had approached from my right. I snuck a peek at the map. He had approached from a position that kept my own concealed from prying eyes. Smart.

Over the short-wave circuit came a voice. It was calm, measured, concise but forceful. The language was clearly Japanese as I heard it audibly. I didn’t speak a lick of Japanese but an English comprehension was dumped it into my brain. The miracles of neurotechnology. MechWarriors spoke differently but we all used the same language.

“Commando. Do you see the enemy?”

Something familiar about that voice caught my attention. I took a peek out the cockpit. It was a Phoenix Hawk unlike any I’d ever seen. Olive drab swirled like smoke across its aureate plating; beautiful and practical all at once. As I looked up at the Mech, it’s telltale shoulder struts pointed heavenward as they seemed to blend into the tall tree trunks in the background. Whoever it was it was one of the officers; out here in the trenches. I could respect that.

“No, sir. It looks clear-”

“No. There.” The Phoenix Hawk had set down its a massive rifle and was pointing. Yea, I could just make out a shape. Now that I looked, I could see a slight ape-like silhouette down the valley, just a hair outside one of the woodlines staring toward our general position. It stood motionless like a tomcat stalking a robin. I’d never had a cat either but my neighborhood growing up had teemed with wild felines.

“Sir. Move out?”

“No. He hasn’t seen us,” said the pilot. The Phoenix Hawk slowly reached for its rifle, “eyes fixed forward” it seemed. The enemy was easily six hundred meters out.

“Koshi. They call it a Mist Lynx; you know it?”

Busted. I swallowed hard and my face flushed with anger at myself. Garrison duty; here I come.

“No, sir, but-” might as well go all in. “It doesn’t matter. It will die like the rest.”

Laughter rang in my ear over the radio. An approving, brotherly laugh, shared by warriors across the stars for eons; back even to man’s tribal wars thousands of years ago.

“He shall. Are you ready to engage, Commando?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. I had, in fact, already picked my route.

“Move!”

I ran; or rather, the Mech did. As I exited the treeline I headed downslope. A silent stream of flashing came from the Koshi’s position as it caught my movement. A moment later the rattling sound of it’s autocannon caught up with its munitions, echoing through the valley. Shells impacted my right arm - sounded like hail - while the rest sailed past, sawing down the grove I had just left.

Processing information so fast via the neurohelmet seems to dilate time for pilots. The Koshi was beginning to move, a tree was falling absurdly slow, leaves fluttered down like ultra light snow. An impossibly long beam flashed out from the Phoenix Hawk directly above me. The laser burned into the Koshi’s right leg never straying more than half a foot from its mark. Using the beam as a tracer, the Phoenix Hawk unleashed a second attack with its rifle. A crushing feeling rushed over me in the wake of a PPC bolt warping the atmosphere as it sailed overhead, smashing again into the Koshi’s injured leg. The Mech wrenched violently around and crashed into a rock face. Smoke poured from the shattered limb.

That was some firepower for a Phoenix Hawk. Punching up; I could respect that.

More movement. I reflex fired as the HUD wrapped a second target in a nice square of corners. I tracked the target letting my Mech’s large laser heave its deadly energy across a full second burn. The blue light mixed with the green woodland staining the shadows with an aqua hue. Some of my hit was absorbed by the weald as the target fled into the woods. Steam poured from the trees as they bled superheated water.

“It’s one of the fast one’s. Upside down arms, hands in the air. Like a bandit,” I rambled.

“Dasher,” said the Phoenix Hawk pilot.

I entered the woodline under a lashing of green and red laser fire. Damn; it was that injured Koshi. I’d circle back for him later. Map; ahead was a river running perpendicular to some sort of cliff face. A waterfall. Not too steep...

I emerged from the tree line and lept from the cliff face. Mid air I saw the enemy Mech below me, backed against the cliff laying in wait, being baptised by the waterfall. I was sailing right over but I twisted at the waist and stretched the Commando’s arm as best I could. I fired off the large laser again, trading a small amount of damage for a huge spike in heat. Not the wisest decision. This could turn ugly.

I came crashing toward the ground but training was already in control. I landed my feet passively and “collapsed” under the forward-downward momentum, turning it into a roll. As my shoulder landed, my Mech's legs windmilled overtop. I skidded across the terrain a few meters in a shrimped position in the river, rear facing the enemy Dasher. Outside, the river water frothed angrily.

The air thundered as the Phoenix Hawk feathered its jump jets and landed beside me. Twin emerald beams flashed out for covering fire as I stood and turned. A salvo of missiles from the Clanner crashed around me in a distracted shot.

The Dasher was breaking for it. I’d seen them before; damn fast. This Commando only had five tons on that Clanner but my Mech was renowned for carrying muscle over speed. We had one chance or it was gone. I shotgunned a salvo of short range missiles, leading a little, and slamming the acceleration forward. Half the spread connected with the Dasher; the exploding force twisting it enough to change its facing but its inertia kept it going sideways. Just enough jostle to cause a hesitation.

I smashed into the enemy machine, pinning it to the wall. It fired another rack of missiles. This close, the spread was negligible and the whole volley obliterated my right arm and with it my large laser. I raised my left fist and went to work. The Dasher’s plating folded in with each blow.

The Clanner just kept firing. They don’t believe in physical combat. No honor in it or somesuch. They also bid on force strength to see who among them would attempt a mission with the least number of assets. Always wondered what kind of honor was satiated by bringing advanced technology to invade a crippled universe. It’s how they ended up fighting for Tukkayid at at three to one odds. Fine with me.

My code was not honor; it was whatever the stockkeeping unit code is for ordering more ammunition.

One last hit and my vision disappeared in smoke and shrapnel. Even through my machine, I was deafened by the roaring ammo explosion within the Dasher as it’s machined guts erupted. I staggered back; or rather, the Commando did.

The smoke was clearing and the form of my ad-hoc lance-mate stood tall.

“That is the heart that will win this planet,” said the pilot through the ringing in my head. “Have you ever piloted a Phoenix Hawk before?”

“Huh?” I was struggling to recover much less understand. That was a weird turn of conversation. “Uh, no. This is the only thing I’ve ever piloted.” The 66th were in the valley now. In the next hour or so we would begin the attack on the Clan Wolf flank.

“This is Kuroi Kiri. I have need for you and your heart on a mission. As decoy actually. I want you to pilot her.”

Kuroi Kiri! Within was general Shin Yodama, commander of the entire 66th Division.

“Sir?”

“What is your name, Commando.”

“It...It doesn’t matter, sir.”

“Stars are forged by men like us. Men with names. What sort of home do you fight for if it is not a place to live when you are in peace?”

“People die...sir. Let’s just make them die first,” I said, meaning my friends and meaning the Clanners.

"Revenge repays injury. Vengenace repays sin. Go ahead; be a martyr if you wish but I know you fight for something. You keep that machine alive for something."

The comms between us were silent but without dead air. The division was on the move. Company chatter was filled with rally calls, status reports, and artillery fire missions to cover our approach.

“Return. Let us get you fixed, MechWarrior,” Yodama finally said, serenely. We began our trek to the gentle slope that lead back to the top of the waterfall.

“Sir...my name is Yung," I cleared my throat. "Darko Yung. I’ve always just called her Spirit - you know, to myself.”

“Hm,” was his only reply, approvingly, then: “What was your unit when you first fought the Clans?”

Behind us, the waterfall continued to roar over the cliff.

Edited by TygerLily, 23 October 2016 - 09:48 PM.

[FLG 01]

The Spider and the Serpent
Category: 2 (hero mechs with heroes named)
Words: 1843






Twelfth Donegal Guards RCT
Smuggler’s Maze, Black Mountain Foothills
Trell I, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone
June 3050


The pitiful remnants of a once proud Regimental Combat Team had waged a guerrilla war against the invaders for months but in the end there was no escape. The Jade Falcons were coming and they tuned in for one last transmission.

“Your dishonourable pirate tactics prove not only your inferiority, Leftenant-General Jeremy, they prove you are unworthy of hegira. Prepare to die!”

As puzzling as it was that his enemy refused to call him by his family name, Jeremy Hawksworth was struck by the word hegira. He had heard it before on a day he never forgot, more than 30 years ago.

On Hesperus II.

________________________________________________________________



Third Royal Guards
Erewhon River
Hesperus II, Lyran Commonwealth
October 3019


“Boreas One, Aeolus here, I need your company on that hill. Defend it at all cost; you are the flank”.

“Jawohl!”

Jeremy and his Zeus took the point. His precious family heirloom Zeus. It was relic of the Star League-era and still a marvel, even if its advanced weaponry had been replaced with readily available downgrades many hundred years ago. Beside him was the Banshee of his second-in-command Herman Wren. Both were followed by a Griffin and an Ostsol. Just like the rest of his company the command lance was relatively heavy and relatively fast for that weight, so he would take that hill. Holding it however...

As he expected, the Dragoons had a light lance up there already but without support it was easily driven off. Actually, by the time their companions were getting close the rest of his company had taken positions and shelled any enemy Mech that dared to approach the hill. Too easy. If Wolf’s Dragoons had a weakness it was their reliance on slow Mechs. It cost them that hill and it would take a major effort to dislodge his company now.

The Dragoons made that effort an hour later when Herman picked up several contacts on his radar: “Heavy company, 10 O’clock!”

“Dammit, it’s the Black Widow Company!” The voice was filled with alarm; fortunately though there was no panic in it. Before the chatter of his men could flood the channel and create such panic, Jeremy decided to intervene. “Alright, boys, this is it. Command lance, artillery lance, use maximum range and hit as many of them as possible. Striker lance, rush ahead and target their long range Mechs. Fall back if you are targeted yourself. Everyone, just keep them from focussing fire until they are reach the 300-mark. Show them what the Pride of Tamar has to offer. Horrido!”

“Joho!”

Despite his words he was perfectly aware his position was less than optimal. The Black Widows outgunned his company by a significant margin. In any other engagement he would have used the speed of his company to outmanoeuvre the Dragoons, but forced to hold this mountain there was little he could do but call for help. Ironic, he thought, usually it is us outgunning the enemy and the enemy attempting to outmanoeuvre us. Time to call for help. “Aeolus, Boreas One here, Black Widow Company incoming. We will not hold them for long. Need reinforcements”.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Jeremy began to worry when sudden static filled his headphones followed by a crack that must have been a PPC-discharge. A painful second later Roman – codenamed Aeolus – finally answered but he did not have good news: “Wolf has committed everything he has got and we are at the centre of his attention. The Widows broke our lines at Tando’s Crossing and swung around to widen the gap for a final assault. The regiment is pushed back but the Old Man let the Roughriders loose. They are ordered to take positions to your right and face the Dragoons.”

“And we are to buy them time.”

“The whole battalion, yes. Means I cannot send you any reinforcements. Sor…” Another crack and he was gone. Although the channel had not been closed voluntarily, everything that needed to be said was said and so Jeremy went to work.

He saw a Crusader turning to one of his striker Mechs, Mira’s Wolverine. With a LRM-lock secured he sent his missiles straight to the Dragoon, but the black-and-red Mech did not even bother. Many pilots would have taken cover and thus aborted their attack. Not this one. His SRMs tore the Wolverine’s leg to pieces, though the Crusader could not follow up due to more than a dozen LRMs exploding on his left side, almost stripping the left arm off its armour. The Crusader pilot was obviously angry at the denied kill and unleashed thirty missiles at his position, but they failed to hit anything. The Zeus was a lot more agile than his lumbering statue might suggest. Having lost sight of the Wolverine and the Crusader, Jeremy locked on to a Marauder that stepped to the smoke of ravaged Guardsmen Mech whose golden painted arm was the only thing left intact. Another dead Striker. In fact, they were all dead except Mira and her disabled Mech. The Dragoons had not lost any of their Mechs but their formation was broken, their advance stopped. And now the Pride of Tamar engaged with their medium range weapons in addition to their LRM and PPC fire. Lasers and grenades melted armour plates and busted internals. He could see an ammo explosion on the Marauder, and the Crusader lost that damaged arm. The Dragoons finally had to pay a price, too. Their return fire however cost Jeremy’s company three more of his Mechs. He wondered in terror how that could be possible. They shot faster and more accurate than anyone he had ever seen, apparently without overheating. Especially the Warhammer just kept firing. The Warhammer! That must be Kerensky’s Mech.

“What are you doing?” That was Herman’s voice coming in when he saw the Zeus dashing forward. “Retreat orderly and continue to pepper them as much as you can. It is all about gaining time for the Roughriders. I will deal with the Black Widow.” His AC/5 roared as it propelled shells toward the jet-black Warhammer, accompanied by the azure gleam of his large laser and the shrill shriek of his missiles. Much to his surprise, almost everything he fired scored a hit. The grenades and the laser struck Kerensky; even most of the missiles hit their mark.

And for a moment there was silence. It was as if the Dragoons had frozen. Then all their Mechs moved away from him, except one. Icy fingers seemed to grip his heart when Kerensky raised both arms of her Warhammer, slowly as possible, and finally shot. When the two artificial lightning bolts hit his legs, he knew it was on.

Throwing his 80-ton beast to the left he gave it all to keep the distance between him and the Warhammer. The two PPCs were bad enough but if she could bring her secondary armament to bear he was dead. After firing a few volleys of LRM and AC-grenades he almost believed his plan could work, even though her PPC-fire was unrelenting. After being hit once more his HUD failed and restored itself again, and he noticed something strange: the computer reported the failure of the ‘Artemis FCS’. Whatever that was, it was removed ages ago. Then he aimed his right arm again and pulled the trigger. But nothing happened. It was a missile control system! Damn LosTech! He figured a PPC-hit must have fried some delicate system of his computer tricking it into believing he still had an Artemis-FCS, and since it could not be activated it blocked the whole system. Without the LRM he had no chance. But he could not give up, not when the battle was undecided. Frantically he spun around and charged right at the Black Widow. The heavy armour of his Zeus could absorb most of her fire. He was still outgunned but if he could get below the PPC minimum range, he could make her work for the kill. She had pursued him at maximum speed and suddenly found herself in front of him, in a close combat situation where her PPCs were useless. Even better for Jeremy: a grenade ripped off his opponent’s SRM-launcher. And he detected breaches in the Warhammer’s armour. Maybe, just maybe, he could win. Or maybe not. In disbelieve he gazed at the PPC-barrels being raised on him. It can’t be! I’m below 90 meter! I must be! Or am I…

A bright bluish flash ended his thoughts. He was stunned for what seemed to be a full minute, but probably was only split-second. Although the cockpit remained largely intact he had lost his HUD completely. Even without the computer’s warning he sensed that he had lost his left arm. So he was reduced to a few lasers without the means to aim them properly. Defeat. He breathed deeply, lowered the remaining arm of his Mech, and looked around. Only now did he notice the black Mechs surrounding him and the Black Widow, watching them. Angels of Death. He also saw the remains of his comrades’ Mechs in their blue-and-gold paint scheme lying on the ground, burned and broken. At least I am with them; I die a Guardsman.

“Are you alive?” This soft voice seemed surreal amidst all the death and destruction around him, and he must have answered the question though he did not remember actively doing so.

“Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“First Leutnant Jeremy Hawksworth, LCAF.”

“My name is Natasha and I have killed enough Lyrans for now. I grant you hegira. Farewell, Jeremy.”


A few days later the Thirteenth Battle of Hesperus II was over. For the first time ever, the Dragoons were defeated. The Lyran sacrifices were not in vain because Hansen’s Roughriders assumed their positions in time and repelled the Dragoons for good. It was a bloodbath for both sides. But the Commonwealth emerged victorious.

________________________________________________________________



Twelfth Donegal Guards RCT
Smuggler’s Maze, Black Mountain Foothills
Trell I, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone
June 3050


“Orders, General?”

“Nothing we can do.” Hawksworth answered his aide “Actually, we already won. The young prince is safe. And trust me, I know his father. He will make those Clanners regret they ever set foot in the Inner Sphere. And as for us; we will die. They may think we are without honour. I don’t. We did our duty as soldiers of the Archon and we face our fate as such. Some battles cannot be survived but have to be fought all the same. Destroy the Black Box and mount your Mech.” With a thin smile he led what was left of his troops into certain death.

It was then that he understood the truth. Clan Jade Falcon was not the only invader. Broadcasts told of other planets being conquered by Clan Wolf. Hegira, he figured, was part of the Clan code of honour... And his smile became laughter.

So he had fought the Clans before. They are not Wolf’s Dragoons. They are Wolf Dragoons! Indeed, the Clans were not invincible.



____________
____________



A few notes on canonicity:

Spoiler

Characters: While Jeremy Hawksworth has a few lines in Lethal Heritage, his character history is almost completely unknown except for the fact that he commanded the 12^th Donegal Guards in 3046-3050 and enjoyed advanced training courses at the NAIS before that.

Mechs: Natasha Kerenky’s Warhammer was actually a stock WHM-6R. However there is much speculation about the Dragoons using LosTech. I decided to keep it ambiguous: so was Jeremy hit by an ERPPC or not? The story allows for both, MWO’s WHM-BW and canon’s WHM-6R. Jeremy’s Zeus is a ZEU-5S previously downgraded to the standards of the ZEU-6S. Such downgrades were common practice in the age of technological decline, however I always wondered if it might cause some trouble – as it did in this story.

Events: The Jade Falcons specifically targeted the 12^th Donegal Guards to capture Victor Steiner-Davion; realizing this early on, Hawksworth devoted most of his resources to save the prince. From then on, Hawksworth fought a guerrilla war infuriating the Falcons. It ended in the valley of Smugglers’ Maze, presumably in early June (last contact with the 12^th Donegal Guards on Trell I was in late May). As a curious sidenote: the dropship that evacuated VSD was named Hejira. Other elements of the 12^th Donegal, perhaps the survivors who went with VSD, survived only to be overrun on Derf in May 3050.
The 13^th Battle of Hesperus II in 3019 is one of the few defeats the Dragoons had to suffer and it was a pretty large battle for the standards of the 3rd SW. We know it only from the Dragoons' perspective though. The Lyran side of the story was never told, and I thought it would be nice to confront a character with a seemingly unbeatable foe. Kerensky's hegira is a bit of a deus-ex-machina but it allows the character to survive and learn from that experience. Thus Hawksworth learned that sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good and that sometimes defeat is inevitable. Such an experience would help making Hawksworth the kind of man he was when the Clans invaded - another seemingly unbeatable foe. He knew he could not win and placed his hopes on VSD.

Hegira and the Dragoons: the novel Wolves on the Border details a so-called Hegira Plan, which is a contingency plan in case the Dragoons are betrayed. It is not exactly the same as hegira detailed in later novels, but it is meant to set the tone, and after reading the Blood of Kerensky-trilogy it neatly falls into place. While the Dragoons may not have offered hegira on a larger scale, I can imagine single warriors adhering to that tradition if they felt like it. Natasha was not a traditionalist and in that time she was bloodthirsty, but the scene is set after her bloody breakthrough – she would have been exhausted and up to her ankles in Lyran Blood already. Especially if the Dragoons’ officers were briefed to avoid Clan terminology I can imagine the rebel in Natasha would have granted hegira to the lucky Lyran at the end of such a day.

Thanks to NFX for repainting the Zeus! You can like the original artwork here.
(The Black Widow artwork is from PGI; the insignia are mine).

Edited by FLG 01, 28 October 2016 - 04:25 PM.

[TygerLily]

Category 1
Word Count: ~ 1900
Sorry...once this story popped into my brain...I had to write it.
Lore: Jin Mehta. The Dragon's Roar, pg 20
________________________________________________

Wild Justice
Asgard // 3052
Correville - 3km from the Odin’s Retreat rock formation
Draconis Combine, 3rd Benjamin Regulars

Our hands were zip tied behind us. We were lined up, on our knees, and I was shoulder to shoulder with my fellow fighters from the Draconis Combine. When The Top said two Stars were dug in, we thought they meant two Stars. Ten Mechs.

What we got was five Mechs and five elementals. That’s not a Star. That’s called a Nova. Elementals. You know, powered armor that was more at home in tight, urban terrain than any Mech ever could be? Armed with a handful of Mech sized weaponry. Sure, death by a thousand cuts...or a vibrabomb to the leg. ‘Swhat happened to me. I ejected. Got captured. Anyway, would it kill command to get their own boots on the ground, get some first hand intel, once in a while?

Boots.

Boot.

Bootknife. I reached and felt the hardened plastic handle. Machine gun fire raked the window sill and pattered along the wall. A few shots hit their mark on the two elementals keeping an eye on us while a few ricochets off their armor made me earmark “change my skivvies ASAP”. The two armored thugs hustled out of the room and two softy grunts came in to stand guard. I heard the Clan powered armor rocket away with their jump jets. With that kind of harassment, the Clanners hadn’t had a chance to do a thorough pat-down. Besides, what could a knife do in a Mech fight.

Heh.

Free, I pulled the gag off my mouth and wrapped some of my bindings around each hand into a crude garrote. Is it still called a garrote when you use it to wrap a guy’s weapon as he fires it and then pull it too, so he shoots his mate? Okay, whatever that weapon is called, that’s what I made.

After a short kerfuffle with the last one, I untied the rest of my Dragon brethren. Machine gun fire lit the window again and we hit the deck. Christ! Friendly fire! Free for three seconds and already getting blue falconed. Our weapons had been laid in a pile. A radio too. I grabbed it and a pistol.

I clicked to the company freq.

“Break, break! Three benji charlie, three benji charlie. This is ‘Snake’. We are in that two-story at delta five-four. Cease fire, cease fire!”

“Snake, it’s Riptide. I thought you were dead, man!”

“Yea, yea Rip, this is Snake. Not yet, man. Hey, we got some small arms here-”

“And a rocket launcher!” yelled someone from the room beside me. I waved emphatically and he gave it a toss.

“- and couple rockets,” I added. “Got something small needs hit? Bring it over...over.”

“Snake, Rip. Roger that. I got someone in mind - oh SHI---”

“Rip?”

“Incoming, incoming. Out that window Snake!”

“Ey! Someone keep an eye out for that elemental Star,” I shouted as I steadied the launcher on the window sill. I could feel the building shake in regular beats. Something fast was coming. I took a peek over my shoulder.

“Back blast area! Clear! Clear!”

I was suddenly alone in the room. Something big passed in front of the window. A Lynx; one of ours. Then another mechanical giant in pursuit of the Lynx. Hard to miss at this range; looked damaged though. I lined it up and fired.

The roar was deafening and to this day I am digging out dust from some pretty rude places. I choked as I waved at the debris cloud. When it cleared I saw an enemy Locust, some kind of Clanner version, writhing on the street. When my ears cleared I also heard a cheery ruckus on the radio.

“-uck yea! Hell, yea, you filthy trashborn! Nice shot, Snake!”

I started to say something but I saw movement in the cockpit of the Locust. The Clanner pilot was scrambling behind his seat for something! Ejecting? Purging sensitive info?

I had nothing better to do. I dropped the launcher and felt for the pistol tucked behind my back.

That’s when things got really stupid.


* * *


I was hanging from the second story window.

If I extended my arms all the way, that would make the fall just a little shorter, right? I mean, I’m pretty tall…Welp, when you slip that’s about all the deliberating you get. A hand reached through the window to grab me but...someone was a hair too late. Figures.

I pushed my way from the bushes and limped into the street at a brisk pace and earmarked "trip-to-doc-for-ankle." I reached the Locust and the pilot was still moving around inside. I pulled the pistol and tapped the cockpit glass. The pilot jumped because - well, when do you hear that while you're piloting a Mech? I saw his shoulders lower in relief. Safe inside that cockpit and he knew it.

He reached between his legs and grasped the ejection handle. With another hand he made the universal finger-wiggle-wave for “toodles” and pulled the handle. There was a loud pop and a sad, sad hissing sound as the ejection system failed. Okay, the hiss wasn’t so sad. The sad, sad, slowly opening cockpit hatch was really the worst part. Poor guy. I’m sure his test tube and Bunsen burner parents always hoped this eugenics experiment would have made more out of his time crusading through the Inner Sphere - yes, I aced chemistry. You don’t get to become a MechWarrior by being an idiot…

Anyway, I shot him in the neck and reached for the neurohelmet. I put it on and pulled the faceplate up. The system began to auto-initialize the neural synapse and control logistics functions; as I expected.

Once the neurohelmet synced up with me, it would all be controlled by the integration of myself and the machine at the speed of thought. While the A-INSCLF configured itself for my brain, I looked over the cockpit. Lots looked familiar, lots didn’t. I found the combat net radio with hard cables and plugged my hand held radio in. I began uploading the TRANSSEC and KY-407 codes so I could receive and communicate with Riptide, and the rest of my guys in the 3rd Benjamin Regulars, securely on their frequency.

The integration finished initializing. I was already feeling slightly dizzy from my brain trying to figure out which was “me”. The 2-meter human form or the 25-ton machine. Wouldn’t matter momentarily. Newer pilots take a while to get use to the dizzies. I got my sea legs long ago so it wouldn’t be too disorienting for long.

I will say this, stepping into Clantech is a hell of a rush. Especially into a Mech as light as this one when you’re used to the heavy boys. Moving from a 65-ton, hundred-year-old Thunderbolt to a Clan Locust is like… Well, I always tell peoples it like deciding one day to get off your *** and go for a run around the block; but when you sat down you were 113 kilos and when you stood up you were somehow transported into the body of Danika Li. The Terralympian sprinter? You’ve never heard of her?

I digress.

NARC. Now that was new to me.

“Three benji charlie actual, three benji charlie actual. This is Snake, do you copy, over?”

“Snake, it’s Rose. Lima charlie, over." Damn, it was good to hear her voice.

“Rose, Snake. I am in control of an enemy Locust-”

“Your, wha- In control of what?”

“Rose, Snake. Comms disciple,” I unkeyed the mic. Hah, probably shouldn’t have said that to the commander. She never liked my sense of humor. I keyed again.

“I’m sending over the Locust’s intel. I’m going to need added to the battle net. I’m in a downed Clanner Locust on Praya Avenue. By the two story building at delta five-four, over.”

Down the street, a friendly Bushwhacker was backpedaling and firing it’s autocannon. I toggled the cockpit hatch closure and reached up to help pull it closed; to help the machinery along. Down the street, a Clan Dire Wolf smashed through a hovel.

The 100-ton war machine was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen and it wasn’t even looking my way. The Mech was painted deep blue with a wide, luminescent amethyst cross-hatching. It’s carapace was scored from heavy damage but it still didn’t look as if the armor had cracked. The cockpit, which sat above the engine housing, jut forward in a predatory stare.

It unleashed fire from two particle projection cannons at the Bushwhacker, now out of sight. Even from down the street, with my cockpit not fully shut, the hairs on my neck and arms stood on end as the weapons discharged man-made lighting at its enemy. My friend, actually. It followed up the barrage with autocannons of its own. The sound was an unforgettable burst-fire of chest crushing, pulsating bass accented by a gattling sound like some kind of titanic rattlesnake.

I fired. It was the stupidest, some say bravest (and then tack on stupidest), thing I’ve ever done. A couple golden lasers flashed out, hitting the behemoth on the side like it was nothing. Nothing! What, did it have shields? What is this...science fiction?

“Snake, this is Rose. Copy your last on that Locust intel. We’re receiving now. And relay that Locust’s BMIN, we’ll get you added to the net, over.”

The Dire Wolf began a slow, lumbering turn my way.

But not firing. It didn’t know yet. I could see it pivoting left and right at the waist searching for an assailant.

“Rose, Snake. Forget adding me to the net. Did you get the Locust’s intel?” Phew...panic!

The Dire Wolf’s massive foot thundered on the ground. I popped out of my seat a few inches with each step.

“Rose…!? The Locust intel?"

My HUD and other combat systems expanded as someone in command finished adding me to the combat net. My Locust was operating on both Clan Smoke Jaguar and DCMS battle computers...now we just needed that intel to finish transferring.

The enemy Dire Wolf engagement data and functionality status popped up on my HUD. Left torso was looking mighty low on armor integrity! Ultraviolet: that was it’s variant. Pilot: Jin Mehta. One of a kind Mech and so must it’s pilot be. Damn, I hated fighting Clanners but a hero of the Clans? Lord have mercy.

“Snake, this is Rose. Roger the intel’s in. Do you-”

Good they’ll see it. I hit the regimental circuit.

“Break, break, break. Third Benji, third benji. That Dire Wolf is about to get NARCed! I’m going to need that rain!”

Ultraviolet.

It was angling down. It knew! Or I was imagining that? Aw, hell.

I fired.

The Dire Wolf lit up on the battlegrid like a chemlight on deployment-New-Years. The sky began filling with irregular vertical streaks of missile contrails and smoke. The comms lit up.

“DCMS, this is Davion, second battalion, third company. Ya’ll got a big cat problem, over?”

The cloud of missiles thundered down. The massive, armored carapace of the Dire Wolf was now a liability from over-head fire. For a solid minute, long range missiles and artillery fire shelled the neighborhood.

The 4th Jaguar Dragoons, the command Keshik of Epsilon Galaxy, and the Clan's champion Jin Mehta fell that day to the combined forces of the Dragon and the Sword.

And that, my friends, is also how I took down Ultraviolet with a boot knife. True story...I mean, mostly.

Edited by TygerLily, 28 October 2016 - 02:24 PM.

[jjm1]

heh. I also picked Jin Mehta. Oh well

Category: 1

---------
The Night Hunter


Daniel, as far as he knew was now the sole survivor of his Smoke Jaguar infantry unit. The elementals of Epsilon Galaxy they had been following through thick mud and hammering torrential rain had momentarily slowed down while a series of large laser beams rapidly carved up his entire unit from behind. Now they had vanished into the pitch blackness of the deep canyon ahead.

His prevailing orders were to charge through this steep walled death-trap, but now exhausted from sprinting he made a half conscious decision to disobey his captains unusually untactful final command. Above him the sky flashed white, it wasn't until a loud crack echoed of the canyon walls a second later that he knew it was only lightning. He turned to face whatever the Draconis Combine had mustered, his last action as a freeborn soldier of the clan would at least be honorable if not remembered in any way. He crouched near a bush and checked his laser rifle and energy pack hadn't been damaged in the mayhem. For the clan he vowed to take five of them and lifted the rifles scope to his right eye.

The canyon rumbled and ripples in the puddles around him gave away the approach of something very big. In the darkness he saw the wet shimmering shape of a humanoid battlemech, its torso rotating left and right as it scanned the canyon for more targets. Instantly Daniel recognised the mech although he had never before witnessed one. An Atlas. One hundred tons of reinforced steel crushing the boulders beneath its feet with every step. In the metal giants wake was a small army of foot soldiers securing any equipment that would assist their futile resistance against the clans capture of this world.

Another sharp white flash, this was it, his end. But it wasn't the deadly corona of a well focused laser beam, it was an explosive burst of energy tearing into the back of the Atlas. White hot metal shards rained down on the infantry below and they scattered in all directions to escape the burning shrapnel. The Atlas leant forward from the force of the impact, its right leg extending in time to support the heavy machine. With surprising speed it recovered, first its torso and then its legs stepping into position to face down whatever adversary dared to challenge it.

Daniel stood and watched in awe as another bolt of energy flew out of the depths of the night and impacted on the chest of the Atlas. This time the Atlas was braced for the impact, its impenetrable frontal armor absorbing most of the damage that the particle projector cannon would inflict. Two more particle shots rapidly soared down the canyon and from the searing blue glow that bathed the battle field he could just make out their origin, Jin Mehtas Direwolf, he was not close, and at that moment Daniel knew Mehta had already won the battle. The Direwolf was also a one hundred ton assault mech but in addition to its armor it harnessed the superior range and firepower of clan weaponry. The Atlas was now trapped by the same walls that just moments ago enabled its mindless decimation of Smoke Jaguars light infantry. Now that the clan mechwarrior was head to head with his adversary the full power of the Direwolf was ready to be unleashed.

Shells rained down the length of the canyon, most of them impacting on the Atlas and tearing chunks of metal from it. The noise echoing back and forth was deafening, the ground shook with every impact. The ferocity of the Direwolf's four ultra autocannons felt like being on the wrong end of a focused naval barrage. No machine could hold up under its sustained fire, and the Atlas even with its god-like reputation for punishment was still just a machine. It twisted to the right in a futile attempt to shield its damaged areas, and then something critical gave way. Mehta ceased firing, instinctively knowing that the job was done even before the smoldering Atlas began to topple head first into the rock wall.

The Direwolf progressed forward through the canyon, stepping over the remains of its vanquished foe. A dry steady voice announced from a speaker mounted below the cockpit. "This world is now liberated and under the jurisdiction of Clan Smoke Jaguar."

Daniel finally realised that the tide of battle had been guided by another plan. He had unwittingly been the bait in much larger designs to secure this victory.

"Surrender immediately," Mehta continued, "...and your families will be protected by the clans."

What remained of the Draconis forces were now being round up by elementals that were descending from the ledges above, the glow of their jump jets lighting up the aftermath of the carnage below. Occasionally a laser burst from a Draconis soldier would be met by a quick and brutal response.

"Resist us, and I am afraid there will be no place for you or for them in the renewed Inner Sphere." Mehtas calm demeanor did not perfectly conceal the hubris in his words.

Daniel stood still in the shadows, his presence here seemed irrelevant, and his survival not likely expected. Jin Mehtas cluster had rounded up and defeated their opposition in a bloody slaughter without a single substantial loss once again. The notion of trueborns bidding their own blood against Draconis champions was always held in high regard, but that thought only slips further from reality as the jaguars claws sink deeper into the Inner Sphere.

Edited by jjm1, 27 October 2016 - 09:52 AM.

[ProfPyro]

Category 1
Word count: 2486

Meta vs. Mehta


February 3052
Draconis Combine
Asgard
Dawn

Erik Soseki jumped into his Atlas’ cockpit and began the powerup sequence. As the reactor hummed to life beneath him he connected the feedback pads to his skin and the coolant hoses to his vest. He hardly noticed the sensation of slithering worms as the fluid flowed through it. He placed the bulky neurohelmet over his head and watched the HUD flicker to life. As soon as the communications equipment received power he listened to his commanding officer’s broadcast.

“Attention, all personnel of the Third Benjamin Regulars! We have inbound clan hostiles. They identified themselves as the 4^th Jaguar Dragoons and the 19^th Striker Cluster. They’ve generously decided to give us a complete list of folks they’re sending to get their asses kicked. You all know the plan, so let’s keep their filthy claws off this planet and pay ‘em back for Izurun.”

Erik snorted in agreement. The plan was solid. The Jags’ LZ was surrounded by mobile artillery. As soon as the dropships landed they’d be under constant bombardment. After a full day of shelling they’d be disorganized, battered, and frustrated. Then the Regulars would be lying in wait just outside Vernan for the Jags to break themselves against fresh forces. Erik had been part of the reserve forces on Izurun when the Jags had attacked two years ago, but they were clearly outclassed. His company had been ordered to retreat before they’d fired a shot. He had fought clanners several times since, but he’d never gotten over retreating that first time.

Erik stared at his HUD and one by one his lancemates’ icons blinked to life. He raised Bancho’s arm and motioned everyone to follow him. One after another the Mauler, Marauder, and Dragon that comprised the rest of his lance began joined the rest of their company in the march around the city of Vernan to their staging area.


T-minus 1 hour

Erik tapped the arm of his command couch impatiently. The artillery squads had been pounding the Smoke Jaguars for hours. Positions 3 and 7 had fought off several toad attacks but other than that there hadn’t been any real efforts to breach the line. All according to plan. More out of boredom than anything else he tuned his radio to HQ.

“Command, this is assault lance Bravo,” he called.

“Go ahead Bravo.”

“Does anyone have eyes on the hostiles?”

“Not since the last time you asked. The artillery crews haven’t reported any movement. They couldn’t make it out of the killzone without us knowing. Timeframe is still 59 minutes 15 seconds.”

“Affirmative, Bravo out.” Erik stared at his chronometer, swearing that each tick took at least five seconds. He decided to check with his friend Toya in artillery squad 3. “Toya, it’s Erik. Have you seen anything other than toads on your end?” When he didn’t get a response from Toya’s personal com he tried squad 3’s general frequency. “Artillery 3, this is assault lance Bravo. What’s the situation like out there? Have the kitties tried anything funny?”

“Neg, assault lance Bravo. We have not seen any enemy movement,” came the clipped reply.

Erik didn’t know everybody in the artillery units but the other voice was unfamiliar and formal even for the DCMS. It didn’t sit right with him.

“Artillery 3 what exactly--” he couldn’t finish his thought as his incoming missile alarm started blaring. He gritted his teeth as a flight of LRMs peppered his rear armor. The armor display showed only minor dings but he wouldn’t have noticed if he’d lost it completely. He keyed his mic and switched to the general frequency. “This is Assault Bravo, I have inbound hostile forces. The trap is a bust. Repeat, hostiles have left their LZ and are approaching from our six.”

The Atlas wasn’t the most agile of machines, but the rest of the company must have been dozing because Erik’s was one of the first ‘mechs to about face the clan formation. Two stars of Omnimechs were barreling down on his company’s position. He saw Tai-i Okumura’s Grand Dragon fall forward after a PPC bolt and gauss rifle slug destroyed its back armor. As Erik’s computer identified each of the Omnimechs he got even more frustrated. It was no secret that clanners had nothing but contempt for the warriors of the Inner Sphere, but to send nothing but light ‘mechs to destroy his entire company smacked of hubris.

A black-camouflaged Koshi pecked at his armor with a small-bore autocannon as it closed. Erik kicked his throttle into reverse to feign panic but watched the range tick down until it entered his autocannon’s range. The Koshi’s pilot realized too late that he had overextended when Erik’s far larger AC/20 hit him in the right chest. The lighter ‘mech’s gyro couldn’t handle the sudden loss of its entire side and it fell to its knees. Erik switched his throttle to full forward and bore down on the stunned ‘mech. What the Atlas lacked in speed it more than made up for in mass. He barreled into the Koshi, the already damaged engine taking another hit and going dark on his radar.

“Bravo lance, it’s time we show them that we won’t stand for this insult. Focus on each target and swat these insects one by one!” Each member of Bravo lance acknowledged and they fell into formation. The hunt was on.

It took much longer than Erik would have liked to hunt down the lighter ‘mechs. They kept disappearing and reappearing just outside of weapon range. They had managed to kill two more from the first star but the last two were Hankyus and their ECM was playing hell with their sensors. His medium lasers did little more than scorch paint when they connected. On the other hand, Izumi’s Marauder would have no problem crippling them if she could manage a solid hit. Terry kept his four autocannons firing at a constant tempo, his usual ‘spray and pray’ method punctuated with an occasional large laser. Andrew was keeping his Dragon’s guns silent, waiting for a sure hit before expending his ammunition. A flight of LRMs sailed out of a copse of trees and arced over Bravo lance, scoring few hits. As one, Bravo lance fired their weapons into the woods. The trees splintered from ballistic fire and burned under their lasers. The two Hankyus darted out; one to the east and the other north. The agile scouts wove away from Bravo’s second salvo and left the much slower ‘mechs in the dust.

“Having this much trouble with a reconnaissance star? Pathetic…” a condescending sigh crackled over the battalion communications band.

“Who is this? This is a restricted DCMS frequency. Identify yourself,” Erik demanded. The screen on his video communication unit blinked until he tapped the ‘ACCEPT’ key.

A face that may have looked at home in a DCMS uniform looked back at him from the inside of a cockpit. Erik estimated his age as late twenties. He looked bored.

“I am Star Colonel Jin Mehta of the 4^th Jaguar Dragoons. We have seen through your pathetic trap. Seeing as you four have gotten separated from the rest of your unit, you stand no chance of survival.”

“So, what?”

“I will give you three options. First: you can surrender. We will make you bondsmen and perhaps use your battlemechs as target practice.”

“Pass,” Erik spat.

“Second choice, you can attempt to fight and die where you stand.”

“Pass.”

“Third, you can duel me. Win and I will allow your lance to retreat with the rest of your cowardly freebirth comrades. Lose, and you will be granted a warrior’s death.”

“A duel? In the middle of a battle? You must be joking! What’s to stop me from radioing your position to our artillery units?”

“I think you may have been too focused on your squirrel chase. You are a long way from your comrades. Your battle line broke long ago and the 19^th Striker Cluster is harrying them all the way. Secondly, each of your artillery units were seized by a point of Elementals before we began our march. We merely had them continue firing.”

“What do you mean…” Erik realized he’d been had. The only friendlies in range were Bravo lance. “Why? This is an awful lot of effort to isolate a single lance. What’s your angle?”

“Conquering your worlds has been disappointingly easy. I was forced to come up with a little game to keep it interesting. I have killed every type of assault ‘mech that the Inner Sphere can boast. Except for one. An Atlas is a rare find. Few units have them, and even fewer are piloted by such gullible fools. I must thank you for that.”

Erik was so furious with himself that the insult barely registered. “Yeah, you’re welcome. Let’s get this over with.”

“The rules are simple. We will both walk one and a half kilometers in opposite directions. On my signal, we will turn around and engage. First to cease functioning or surrender will be victorious.”

“Fair enough. But what makes you think I won’t just make a break for it?”

“The fact that doing so would forfeit your friends’ lives.”

Erik looked at the rest of Bravo lance and saw each ‘mech had no less than five toads clinging to it. Some had their small lasers pointed at cockpit glass while others held their powered claws near access hatches.

“Agreed.”

“We will meet at the following coordinates…”


Erik reached the nav point Mehta had given him and got his first look at Mehta’s Omnimech. There was no mistaking that profile. The first units that had met one of those machines had aptly christened them Daishi, or Great Death. Arms, shoulders, even the center torso carried deadly weapons. The camouflage, if it could be called that, was a matrix of bright purple lines over darker purples and blue trim. The paintjob of someone who felt no need to hide. Erik thought it looked like a visual representation of a seizure.

“So, freebirth, are you ready to begin?”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

“Before we start I will bid away my LRMs. They would take some of the pleasure out of the hunt.”

Erik held up Bancho’s fist and extended the middle finger actuator.



Mehta’s signal sounded and Erik set his throttle to maximum as he completed his turn. The three kilometers would take a while to close but depending on the clansman’s weaponry his range advantage could be anywhere from a few meters to hundreds. Erik would have to spread damage and close the distance quickly. Something hit the ground in front of him and hurled dirt into the air. It was followed by two more, then his cockpit shook as the next impact hit his right shoulder.

Blake’s blood! He’s got to be at least a klick away! It wasn’t much but I felt it. If he can reach me now, that’s got to be a smaller autocannon. I can take those no problem. Erik rotated Bancho’s torso side to side while zigzagging the legs. The movements were erratic enough that many of the shots missed and those that did hit couldn’t capitalize on previous damage. How d’you like that? This isn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

A flash of blue light stung his eyes before the neurohelmet darkened itself completely. When the protective shading receded, he checked his status screen. Before the flash his right arm’s armor was firmly in the yellow, but now it was completely gone. PPC. Great. The structure hadn’t sustained any hits but another hit from the PPC would cripple or destroy the limb.

The red icon of a hostile unit appeared on Erik’s HUD and he selected it as his primary target. Scanners and receivers did their work and Mehta’s Daishi was analyzed in a fraction of a second. Everything Erik saw made his stomach churn. Two ERPPCs? ULTRA autocannons? He’s trying to shred me before I can touch him! He’s got the range game, but if I can get him in close… He looked for cover as he kept weaving. The canyons to his left would do, but it would leave his back exposed. The forest to his right wouldn’t be as effective but his left side would be towards Mehta. He stopped evading and made a beeline for the trees. He took a PPC to the left torso and his armor changed to an angry red. He crossed the treeline before Mehta could fire again.

“So, you have some tactical sense after all,” Mehta taunted.

“I’ve got more than that. Why don’t you come and find me?”

“With pleasure.”


Erik lumbered through the trees until he discovered a ravine deep enough to conceal him entirely. He put his back to the wall and tried to come up with a plan. Shut down? No, I’d be a sitting duck. Double back? What if-- Erik’s eyes bulged when the Daishi landed right in front of him.

“You disappoint me. If this is the best you could--”

Whether it was instinct or luck Erik that caused Erik to alpha at that moment he would never be able to say. The DCMS hadn’t cared for the modifications he requested, claiming that his reliance on short range weapons would limit his efficacy. The row of kill decals below his AC/20 proved otherwise. 24 SRMs and an autocannon slug slammed the Daishi all at once, tearing the armor from its center and left torso. The loss of that much armor, combined with the 20-meter drop strained its gyro to the limit. Erik’s weapons wouldn’t cycle in time for a follow up salvo, so he used the one weapon he had left. He cocked Bancho’s arm, twisted to the right and drove his battered right arm into the Daishi’s left side. His arm was already critical, and the ferro-titanium arm bones folded under the force. Mehta’s gyro, however, couldn’t counteract the massive forces and the behemoth crashed to the rocky floor.

Erik exited the forest and exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath through the entire duel. Approaching from the east were the remaining members of Mehta’s star, Bravo lance, and a swarm of toads. Erik didn’t like his odds. Almost all his armor was gone or in the red, one of his missile racks had been damaged in the SRM explosion, and his autocannon was out of ammo. He raised his remaining fist but no attack came.

“Mechwarrior Erik Soseki,” a harsh female voice growled, “this is Point Commander Ester of the 4^th Jaguar Dragoons. You have bested Jin Mehta in single combat. We will honor the agreement made. You and your lance will be granted safe passage to your allies.”

If Erik hadn’t been firmly strapped into his command couch he would have fallen on his face in relief.


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Wow, Jin sure is a popular guy, isn't he?

[plodder]

Category 2

Life is a Battle
Falls Leave the Ground Well Covered
Truth Tastes as Spring Feels



Sweetness speaks words of conviction, words of faithfulness, hopes and wonders. Sweetness has not often spoke to me. The sweetness of life is absent for me and those about me. I choose conflict at a profit. The conflicts in the life we lead are chosen specifically to minimize risk while maximizing reward. Selfishness is not something we look to as some princeling desires another toy or memento of prowess. Selfishness to us is life preservation, life expanding. Sweetness in one’s life demands payments we cannot readily afford. Things like empathy, sacrifice, loyalty, are the payments required, with hope being the key to unlocking almost any treasure of tender mercies. I have not the heart for hope or its treasure. I require something less etheric and more substantial. My treasure is to be paid in C-Bills, supplies, accommodations, and the fruits of the battlefield. I am a Mercenary in all applications. My only loyalty, sacrifice, or empathy is used as an exchange for the treasures needed for rebuilding, refitting and expanding our Mercenary unit. I pay loyalty to the men and women I serve with to embolden them. I will sacrifice most things to enable them to pay in exchange the same to me. Hope has no place in our dealings with The Great Houses, Corporations, or isolated provinces. The only hope involved is the hope lost for any that fail to pay us what is owed.
Commander A.R. Uwildi



Contract 2215 A.R.662

JOURNAL of Battle Plan

I have Plodder on point for the scout lance with the Ostscout.
Delta lance will hold powered down until the enemy is within LRM range.
Grimm's Archer’s LRM’s will be on high ground Foxtrot 3 without ECM coverage.
His only support will be ScrapIron’s Centurion fitted with 2 ER PPC’s, 2 Medium lasers and 2 SRM4’s. He will counter any ECM with his PPC’s. They will be our bait.
The Enemy assaults and heavies were spotted unloading their dropship Golf 7.
It looks like they will support their front line Mechs after they locate us.
The enemy has had a good success rate in such incursions against reputable units, so I will not underestimate them. Alpha and Bravo lance will set up Echo 3 Foxtrot 3 line for maximum firing lanes and movement to engage or fall back. After all our units are in place and the enemy’s scout lance is sighted and we all go silent.

Live Operation

Delta Lance Locust Comrade Collette: Roger that Plodder, inbound lance Foxtrot 5, 2 mediums with 2 lights, ECM covered.
Good eyes scout. Hold position until spotted.

Plodder: Roger that lance lead. UAV If they head my way?

Collette: Negative, save it, we know where they are and where they’re going. Copy?

Plodder: Roger that Collette. Plodder out.

Commader: Delta lance lead, are you set?

Collette:Roger that Commander. Plodder is currently on over watch Foxtrot 4, enemy scout lance in sight. The rest of Delta lance are hidden in the boulders at low ground delta 3, in position sir. UAV’s will be up when targets at 150 meters, powering down now.

Commander: Roger that Collette, telemetry and comms coming on clear. All units break silent comms only at need. Stay frosty Delta lance, we have your backs.

Delta lance Ostscout: Plodder
Enemy power up detected, enemy power up detected…
Plodder: What The…

Collette: What the heck? Plodder popped that UAV! (Via hard line) Anyone have eyes on Foxtrot 4?

Delta Lance Raven: Greystoke
Affirmative. Atlas near Plodder’s position Foxtrot 4.

Collette: Keep it cool and frosty like the Commander said. Let it play out.

Alpha Lance Highlander: Commander
Telemetry feed: Enemy power up detected, enemy power up detected.
Plodder popped a UAV!
AS7-D-DC and a GFR-2N Power up 200 meters behind Plodder position
Ostscout down. UAV down.
It’s hitting the fan now boys. Looks like Delta lance is staying tight and in place. We have an enemy Atlas D-DC and a Griffin 2-N in Foxtrot 4.
Foxtrot 4 Ostscout down. Stay in position Alpha Bravo Lance until enemy is in range or I tell you otherwise. Charlie Lance Scrappy and Grimm, Fire on Atlas and Griffin as able at range. You are the bait.
Charlie Lance Archer/Centurion: ScrapIron Prime/GrimmGunn

ScrapIron: Firing on Atlas, Firing On Griffin. Copy Grimm?

Grimm: Roger that Scrappy. Lock on Atlas, firing, lost lock, reacquired lock. Nice Shooting there Scrappy!!!

ScrapIron: Having Heat issues here Grimm, give it a break after the 2^nd volley .

Grimm: Roger that. 2^nd volley away lock holding…..Hit! the Atlas’s left torso is smoking. Should I pop a UAV so nothing sneaks up on us?

ScrapIron: Negative, save it until they are hitting us up close. Firing on both Mechs to keep their ECM down.

Grimm: Locked on Atlas, Firing…

Delta Lance.
Collette: Looks like the Scout lance is pushing hard to get Scrap and papa Grimm on top of this hill. 4 enemy Mechs 500 meters now. Get reactors online
Powered up, UAV’s up!
Collette:150 meters engage spider target Bravo.
Stay on him. Grey, break off and hit Hunchback Alpha. Draw him off if you can.
Bravo Spider down.
Hunchback primary Alpha.

Grimm: Firing primary Alpha
ScrapIron: Firing Atlas Foxtrot 4.
Grimm: Taking Fire Hunchback Foxtrot 3 Alpha
ScrapIron: Switching to Target Alpha. Alpha down. Have you seen the Cicada?
Collette: Roger that, Cicada target Charlie went to Golf 3.
ScrapIron: Foxtrot 3 Getting hit from the back. I am going down! UAV Grimm!

Grimm: UAV up. 8 Mechs Foxtrot 3/Golf 3.

His back to the enemy, Grimm heads down slope towards his scout lance, firing chain fire missiles to the target Delta locked Raven until it goes down.

Commander: Grimm stay with Delta Lance. Delta Lance find that Griffin and Atlas Foxtrot 4 area.
Alpha and Bravo Lance head to Delta 4, use cover.

Grimm: Found Atlas Target Golf, ECM knocked out. Griffin is not located. Firing Golf.

The Griffin Fires all of its weapons to the Archers right torso. The Archer lurches as the XL 280 is hit and the heat escaping cooks off the ammo, exploding into leaping flames. The auto ejection sequence fires Grimm Gunn skyward.
The Griffin lays into the Locust’s left leg which shows damage. The SRM’s leaves the Locust without a Leg and it falls to the ground. Continuing past the downed Locust to the Raven Greystoke is piloting. Greystoke stripped off the right arm armor of the Atlas after finishing the left torso and arm. The Griffin strikes the Raven’s left rear torso with lasers, rivulets of molten armor drop scorching the ground. Turning away from this new threat, Greystoke turns his damaged back to the Atlas allowing it to use the one weapon left to it. The AC 20 rips easily into the light Mechs back armor, crushing weapons and internal structure. The momentum of the Raven’s turn doubles as the 20 CM round strikes causing Greystoke to lose balance of his damaged Mech. The Griffin fired at the right leg of the downed Raven while the Atlas does the same.

Commander: There are only the 2 Mechs in Foxtrot 4. Hit them hard, hit them now.
The Enemy’s 8 Mechs coming over the top of Foxtrot 3 had clear lines of fire to the Commander and his 2 lances, both Alpha with Bravo, plus the 2 heavies taken from Charlie lance. 10 vs 10 Mechs. The Commander’s enemy had the high ground, the right ground. Out of false sense of urgency the seasoned Commander traded his defensible position to gamble with the time he thought he had with the time of actuality. Their backs to Foxtrot 3 the Commander’s Highlander Mech swooped upon the Griffin dispatching it quickly with the help of Bravo lance. The Atlas would not go down, but fired round after round until the Commander fell prey to the PPC and Guass fire from the hillside at his back. Mech after Mech of the commander’s team fell or surrendered as the elite Mercenaries dismantled his command and his Mercenary unit.



Contract 2215 A.R.662.
Task completed. Insurgent Mercenary unit Windbourne Highlanders repelled. Commander Tenth Hammer captured. Partial payment of captured Mechs secured.
Funds withheld due to clause Light.115: Any Iight Mechs captured on the field of battle will not be held by Mercenary unit, but will be compensated with C-Bills at full market value.
With all due respect Mr. Landin, the Raven and Spider were only light Mech disabled or captured. The Ostscout was hit hard by SRM6’s from both our Atlas D-DC and Griffin 2N. We knocked it out and left it. I was the Atlas pilot, and I could not imagine the Mech rising again without a major refit. I was wrong about that.I do not have the Ostscout. Pay us what you owe us.
I will see you tomorrow to discuss this in person if I am not paid in full by the end of this day.

Commander A.R. Uwildi



Mechs in the street at Mr. Landin’s office, Commander A.R. Uwildi walks alone up to the top floor to The door of Mr. Landin. The Secretary interrupts me prior to knocking, “Would You like some coffee or other refreshment?” With a slow grin and a nod I respond,“A coffee and a Scotch, the first with cream, the latter without ice if you please, and thank you.”
The door opens and I am invited in by his security man, and I sit and wait until the beverages are served. The Scotch is good while the coffee acceptable. I sip one and then the other. Mr. Lindin looks nervous but not frightened. If he looked me directly in the eyes, he might be.
“I had a home once Mr. Lindin. It was an alley in Solaris City near the Valhalla Club. I did alright as a sharp kid. Stole what I could then work when I could. I would steal scraps from the Valhalla Club’s trash bins. Most of the food was wrapped in bags, and no better food could be found for free in Solaris City. I found a hundred C-Bill note somehow mixed in the food one early morning. I didn’t break it or use it for almost a month.
Outside Steiner Stadium by a betting house I was begging for some food and smoke money. This Rich looking giant of a man waves me over like he is going to give me something. Clean cut face guy with blonde feminine hair, he must have money to spare, and giving to the poor is supposed to give luck to the gambler. He gives me something alright, a kick in the chest. He shouts, “Get out of here you dirty fatherless beggar!!!” I couldn’t move. My lungs were not working; the air was kicked out of me. He walked slowly to me. Smirking he calls me a b*****d and spits on me as he walks away.
After a bit of time everyone walks around me, not acknowledging me. I crouch around my ribs; they must be broken. I feel a hand on my shoulder and a soft voice saying something to me. At first I think he is a threat because of the anger in his eyes. His voice is calm though, and I could not defend myself anyway. He helps me to the bench by the building. “Are you hungry? Were you begging for food money or for something else? When I told him I was begging for food and smoke change he handed me a pack, then bought a plate of the vender food right there next to the bench. He asked, “What is the name you go by?” But I would not tell him. He could just be the Law, or some pervert. He stares at me. I think he sees what is going on I my mind. “My name is Justin, what is your name?” He reaches to shake my hand. Seeing honesty in the man, I reach out to shake his hand Saying, “My name is Antonio Uwildi.” He says a bunch of words, but all I get out of is, take what you can when you can, play by your rules. He hands me a betting sheet pamphlet as he left me. I light up one of the smokes drawing in slowly because of the pain from my ribs. I almost drop the smoke as I turn the betting page over and see the 100 C-Bill note pinned there. The note was next to a Solaris Battlemech match that had been underlined and the Teng Stable circled.
I went to another gambling house that allows people like me to make a bet. I bet the 100 I had before and the 100 C-Bill that was given me on the circled name for the given match.
With my winnings I bribed my way into a good Battlemech stable job and bought some good boots. What was left over was used for other bets I made betting on Justin Allard and a few others. I eventually became a Mech pilot and went to any conflict I could profit in. It is a hard life without room for sentimentality or sweet and precious things.
I am not sentimental about Justin Allard or hero worshiping his Mech or the man. The man gave me some advice which I have followed, advice I see he believed in and it brought him somewhere. The Yen-Lo-Wang is symbolic for the quick powerful tenacity of what I desire to be. You have cheated me, and by my rules that govern my life, you have broken our agreement. I am not bound by any agreement I made to you or your corporation. If you had said in the contract document that the Ostscout was a primary target you would have had it. If you had chosen to pay us for the contract, you could have hired us for a second contract at a reduced fee to locate and capture the Mech. You may leave my office with your life. Leave the secretary, good ones are harder to find than one would think. Sign all of the papers provided by my admin clerk on floor one before you leave. She has orders to shoot you if you do not dot your i’s or cross your t’s. She is very particular that way. You will be on the 1^st dropship heading out of system." I ponder, “What is so special about that Ostscout that escaped?”
Commander A.R. Uwildi: I can hear Sweetness singing softly to me. Whispering that it is not too late to pay Sweetness of life’s price and benefit in its treasures. A back alley periphery world might be a start for a home. From a pocket he takes an abused Yen-Lo-Wang, then chuckles at the old almost forgotten joke. He had the
die cast model as a reminder of his past.
Another B.S. plodduction

Edited by plodder, 07 November 2016 - 01:51 AM.