Repainted Concept Art

--~DECRYPTION STATUS~--

~100%

LOCATION: ELISSA

"Harmonious actions usher victory and truth ever closer."

~DISPLAY FILE~

-Somewhere in the Periphery-

A single, solitary object drifts aimlessly across the empty void. Not sound, motion, nor light betrays the serenity enveloping the lone figure suspended in as much his own thoughts as by the lack of gravity. Soon the placid silence would be replaced with oppressive heat, gunfire, the cold embrace of death...but for now there is only reflection and contemplation.

The Periphery has always known bandits and pirates. Lying, cheating, and stealing were as plentiful as water beyond the bounds of the great Houses so news of unrest wasn't uncommon. Then the news stopped, suddenly the Periphery didn't exist above the Federated Commonwealth, Draconis Combine, or the Free Rasalhague Republic. Nothing, not a single scrap of information drifted out, it was as if a black cloud had descended smothering everything it touched. Rumors ran rampant ranging from HPG's being destroyed, Comstar conspiracies, pirate actions, or even ludicrous ones like an alien invasion to Kerensky's army returning.

Official orders said they were to curb pirate activity and assist an allied mercenary unit in humanitarian aid. Sending a St. Ives Expeditionary Group Company all the way to Elissa, about as far away from home as you can get and still be in known space, meant that pirates would be the least of their worries. Strings had been pulled and favors cashed in, and now they had been sent to face the crushing unknown. Unnerving was a word not quite up to the task of describing the situation. Pirates didn't work this effectively, every hour spent en route left the crew able to come up with every worse case scenario they could devise.

Unofficially everything was balanced upon a knife's edge. Joining up with elements of the 1st Blackburn's Raiders, exploration and scouting were their primary mission. Discovering what could shut down the Periphery so completely was a major concern that was shared among many of the top brass and their allies alike. To pull them off the Capellan border to go help what was essentially a Davion unit explore space above the Free Rasalhague Republic was madness to many. Damage control had been taxing among the younger recruits, but the core of his forces were like steel and had taken the news with the same cool acceptance they had always given him. A debt was owed, and they were here to repay it.

A slight buzzing sound begged for attention, starting off softly then getting more demanding as minutes passed. It was time to see to his duty and begin preparations for making landfall. Slowly opening his eyes to orientate himself in the pitch black cargo bay, slowly rotating in the weightlessness, he punched a button on his watch to bring the lights up slowly. Nodding to the technician in the side office now looking out the shielded window in the corner of the bay, a command was sent and gravity returned to normal. Quickly unfolding his legs from the sitting position he had been in to adsorb the shock of regaining his weight, he fell a scant 2 feet and lightly thudded onto the deck. Taking one last look around and steeling himself for the day ahead, Captain Benjamin "Red Eagle" Weatherford straightened to his full height and strode to the now open door leading to the hallway outside of the bay, faint sounds of the crew drifting inside bringing the now crashing back onto him.

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Passing the tech and giving one last nod of appreciation, he passed through the small ferro-steel reinforced archway. Turning right down the long light grey hallway, he felt an arm slip under his and a body as quickly against his side as it did away. In this brief moment, he stole a sideways glance at his executive officer, Lieutenant Celeste "Angel" Devereux, offering a brief smile as he took in her multicolored eyes, and her own beaming smile framed by slightly curly brown hair that falls just below her shoulders. Self consciously glancing back down the hallway in the direction he had come, in part being surprised at her sudden arrival as much as to see if anyone could see them -just two aero jocks deep in conversation heading the other way- he quickly masked his surprise and calmed his face.

"You have a knack for doing that, Celly. And always in public with no one else watching...I swear you have eyes in the back of your head." He almost smiled again, but thought better of it as he passed by a ring of technicians working about some kind of generator. She cocked one eyebrow up and replied in soft tones, "Maybe I do, Benny, no one has told you of the cameras I've set up, oui?" Eyeing her sideways as he might actually be considering that she'd do just that, he shook his head and he marshaled his features. "How are preparations going, Lieutenant?"

Even before he could blink she had resumed their working relationship as if nothing had just transpired. She stood a bit farther from him and the wall she'd put up for show would slam down. It always nudged at him, but it was important they remain professional. "Everyone's currently down at mess getting breakfast; which you've missed Captain-" he cut her thought off with a nod that he'd attend to food in due time, she gathered herself up and continued, "-and everything else is on time for launch. You can't hide it from me, Benjamin, something has you worried and you won't let anyone know."

Sighing, half in false affected indignation, half in appreciation that it was out in the air, he quipped, "Permission to speak freely then, Lieutenant!" Nodding towards the 'mechbay they had been heading towards when he left the cargo bay and his morning's respite, "To say there is much going on is an understatement. We're so far from any real support out here, and if anything goes wrong we'll be left high and dry unless the Raider's have committed more then they're letting on." Passing another large metal arch, the cavernous interior of the 'mech bay greeted them like the gaping maw of some kind of artificial nightmare. Engineers and technicians darted between the massive war machines of the St. Ives Expeditionary Group, loading ammunition and double checking all the systems that keep these avatars of death working.

No matter how many times he came here he was always in awe, he hoped it remained like that till the day he died. So much power resided within and it was his duty in life to command not only his own, but an entire company looked to him for direction, to lose respect for what he was doing and what tools were at hand would be to invite disaster. His grandfather always instilled in him the importance of every single person you fought with. As they moved towards his own Atlas, standing at it's base and gazing upward toward the menacing skull painted with war paint, old thoughts rose to the surface of his mind. "He'd always say, 'Every man or woman standing next to you is a fellow hunter. They are your brothers and your sisters, your blood is their blood and you take care of them as you would take care of your family. They are a part of you as much as you are them.'"

Celly had moved a bit closer to his side and stared up at his Atlas, but she thankfully remained silent as he recounted his Grandfather's words, then continued "I'm worried that I'm taking them to their deaths and I have no answers for them. Their families will have no answers as they don't even know where they are right now and won't for a long time. Not a single one of them balked when I volunteered us for this mission. We're so far from home facing an unknown enemy and they're here as if it's just another day in paradise. It fills me with pride, but the weight of the situation is daunting...we're going to fight a battle we may be ill-prepared to fight and for the wrong reasons."

Waiting until he finished, Celly looked at him with a face both soothing and yet stern...something he believed he'd never be able to do if he lived to be one hundred. "We wouldn't be out here if it wasn't for you, not because of the rank on your chest but because of the man behind it. The Raider's cashed in on their favor; blood for blood as your grandfather put it, after they saved our bacon three years ago. No matter what goes on out there everyone is ready as they can be for it and no one's going to back down from a debt owed nor a threat to the Inner Sphere...even if it's not on our borders." She paused briefly, still studying his face, "You're a good commander because you care so much, Benny, you inspire all of us with your willingness to do what's needed over what's popular. But, you suck at taking care of yourself!"

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Sliding her hand under his arm again, she gave his hand a slight squeeze. He wanted to linger like this forever -improper as it might be- but she gave a tug on his arm as she released his hand, pulling him back towards the hallway dodging the scurrying technicians who were now swarming all over Benny's Atlas. "Report to mess, sir!" She pushed him ahead of her giving a rather sarcastic salute. Letting go was the hardest thing. Of her and of his doubts.

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Ten minutes later found him entering the crew's mess aboard their dropship, few people bustling back and forth as they got in a bite to eat before they hurried off to whatever task they'd been set to. It was mostly empty save for two or three tables at this time as chronologically it was still very early. It didn't take him long to make eye contact with the Mechwarriors of his lance. Sitting in their unofficial corner of the mess hall were the brothers Mitchell, Master Sergeant Alexander "Preacher" Mitchell and the younger Lieutenant Nicholas "Maniac" Mitchell, respectively. Alex waved him over and Weatherford made his way past a few crew members walking towards their own table to sit at the bench opposite of the brothers.

"Morning, Captain. Any news on drop conditions?" Preacher asked, leaning back from his food and running a hand through his short cropped black hair, severely greying at his temples and peppering throughout. Maniac was still shuffling food into his mouth but his eyes popped up as if he wanted to say something, Maniac always said something regardless if he should be talking or not, but he contended himself to listen while he ate...for now. Crossing his arms he replied, "The snow hasn't let up but that might work to our advantage. The infantry moved into the city under the cover of night and has set up defensive positions. Dense snow banks are helping them conceal explosives and other hazards, they'll be marked on our huds." Preacher nodded, he was defintely his younger brothers opposite. The older brother was cool, collected, and looked at the bigger picture.

Finally free of chewing the bit of food, or almost free as a few bits spattered the table as he opened his mouth, Maniac shot his hands up in a sharp gesture, fork and knife still in hand. "That's all well and good if you ask me, but I still think it's aliens! What good are mines and Battlemechs to aliens?" It came out as mostly a rush, Maniac was always rushing, as he tried to keep swaying people to his line of thinking. Shaking his head, his older brother chided him with "Oh, and do aliens fly Jumpships and Dropships?" An oddly marked jumpship and it's attending dropships had been seen two jumps away, but trajectory had them heading this way.

Maniac couldn't decide if he wanted to be bashful or angry, so he pushed ahead instead of taking a second to think, "Why wouldn't they! I mean, if you're going to attack why not pull an old Trojan Horse? You can't seriously believe it's pirates, do you?" Weatherford spoke clearly to stop any further discussion, as much as to calm Maniac. He was also hoping Nicholas didn't notice his wink to Alex; Angel had just entered the far side of the mess behind Maniac. "Pirates aren't this organized, but they act like any other military force. It's probably one of the other Great Houses trying to bring the Periphery to heel so they have extra resources and maneuvering space to put pressure on the others. We could also be seeing someone trying to unite the periphery states through force, which would be just as bad."

Taking the hint, Preacher leaned forward and said, "Hang on, I do remember hearing some whispers about what's been happening to the colonies that have gone dark." Getting quieter and leaning in, silently gesturing the others to do the same, darting eyes left and right as if it was a tightly held secret, "I hear they get inside your mind. Make you do things, terrible things. They use our equipment cause they just take over our bodies. It's said they sit you down, stand over you and pull out some funky device. And then," Preacher suddenly cut off as Angel jabbed Maniac in the sides, causing the young Lieutenant to shoot out of his seat and sending the last vestiges of his food flying across the table.

Weatherford had to lean to the side to avoid the flying breakfast tray and Maniac's breakfast, but the yelp he gave would have been worth a face full of it. Laughter burst out as Angel picked up her tray from the table beside them and placed Benny's own in front of him. "We won't let the scary aliens get you, Maniac! Besides, you can't control what has no brain!" She nudged him again with her elbow to which he recoiled only slightly as he sat there red faced, palm on his cheek and catching his breath.

Taking a seat beside him, Angel nudged the tray in front of him and spoke softly under the laughter, "Am I going to have to spoon feed you, too?" She had that way of saying things as if they were half joking, half serious. He decided not to push his luck, though it cheered him up to think of her actually trying. Preacher had just finished holding his sides, decidedly avoiding noticing Angel's exchange with his commander, long enough to catch his breath to utter, "Seriously though, Captain, what's our plan here?" The table had gone deathly quiet as his three lancemates hinged upon his next words. Even Maniac looked at him with a clarity he only showed on the battlefield.

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"Intel reports the enemy forces will be ready to jump in system in less then twenty four hours. They can make planetfall in fourty eight. We're going to get down there and dig in with an ambush set up at the city. It's situated at the end of a large valley so any enemy ground forces have to get funneled into it if they want to take the planet. Elissa's government, what little there is, has evacuated non essential personal from the city but are acting as if all their leaders are holed up here." He paused long enough for Angel to ask, "What about the 1st Blackburn's Raiders? You've been tight lipped about their movements." As much as his unit trusted those "Mercenaries", they still didn't not having the full picture this far out.

The Raiders had been trying to keep their movements in the dark, trying to appear as if there was only one force marshaling on the planet in order to mask their true strength. He took them all in, looking each in the eye, "I've met Colonel Gallows, right after he and the Major pulled us out of that botched op three years ago. He doesn't let much go in the way of info, but he assures us that his group here will handle their end. We don't know their exact numbers for the sake of security, but we've got "ghost" issues to move some of our "forces" to our flanks.I'd say they're guarding our backs, and are acting as reinforcements if needed. They'll also be staying mobile in case the enemy bypasses the city for whatever reason."

It seemed to be enough for his crew. They all sat silent and finished their breakfast, waiting for their time to do their duties.

-Orbit over Elissa, Periphery-

Sitting amidst the soft glow of his cockpit Weatherford punched in a number of codes into the small console to the right of his control sticks. His Atlas, named after his own callsign and his ancestor, had been handed down through many generations. It had been created sometime before the Star League had fallen and had continued to serve in his family ever since, being handed down from parent to child. Again, it recalled the words of his grandfather, who had raised him after his father died while he was young, and talked as if one, "Harmonious actions usher victory and truth ever closer."

"Security Code Accepted."

"Reactor: Online

Sensors: Online

Weapons: Online

All Systems Nominal"

The low thrum of his 'mechs fusion reactor sitting below him was soothing, having spent so much time in it's cockpit. Soon it would again carry him into harm's way, wreathing him in it's armor and giving him the power to level anything in his path. As his hud sprung to life before him, he looked out beyond his Atlas's viewport to watch the dropships doors open to the biting cold. It was almost impossible to see anything past the threshold of the door as the snow had pushed itself up and made huge mounds around the dropship.

Biting his mic twice for company wide communication, Weatherford gave one command, "This is Captain Benjamin Weatheford. All lances report in and then move out. I want to be in the city before the hour is out, enemy forces are making better time and are expected to make planetfall in less then six hours. Let's go see what the fuss is about." He pushed his throttle up and the giant metal beast below him lurched forward, heading on it's way to being the first out of the large hangar door.

As he came upon it, he steeled himself and his 'mech pushed itself past the snowbank growing inside the dropships door, into a white oblivion.

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-Elissa, 6:00PM Local Time-

It was an eerie feeling that settled over Elissa's capital, the empty eye sockets of buildings staring down no matter where you went. Days before it had been a thriving metropolis for a planet this size, one of only a few actually on planet as it was mostly an agricultural planet, but it help understate the situation they were in.

Weatherford pitied the small infantry he saw off in the distance, lit on his hud as friendlies by their IFF. They stood huddled together in one of the waist high buildings using their rangefinders trying to keep an eye out for enemy contacts. The snow hadn't relented and it had begun piling up against the base of buildings so thickly that it swallowed any vehicles on the street, even coming up past his Battlemech's ankles. It worked to their advantage after the fashion, but turned the battlefield incredibly dangerous if they didn't keep their heads on.

Mines and explosives had been primed along various streets and dummy vehicles, inside buildings as well to help provide cover/obstruction with the hope of collapsing them onto enemy forces. That the people of Elissa would be so willing to the wholesale destruction of their city as the price of victory was testament to how much they valued their freedom. Mag-scan was useless, thousands of pieces of metal debris specially designed to make a mess of what anyone saw using it was littered everywhere and buried in random spots inside buildings and snow piles. Those infantrymen had been incredibly busy to make sure this ambush pulled off. Now if only their enemy would take the bait.

He wasn't sure what game they were playing, these "Ghost Bears" as they called themselves, but they had come over comms a few hours earlier and had actually asked what they were using to defend Elissa. It smacked of subterfuge when they commented what they desired to bring to the battlefield, but he assumed it was designed to keep them off balance. It might have been working as they had seemed stone cold serious and offended when Weatherford told them to come at get them with whatever they had. There was a long silence after that punctuated by the lifeless city they now inhabited, waiting for the hammer to fall.

A yellow button lit up and screamed for attention on his right, blinking wildly on the communications console above his head. He punched it and the leader of the infantry's voice floated into his ears, "Enemy contacts less then five miles out, sir." Weatherford nodded to himself then replied, "Set up positions but don't draw their attention...stay hidden."

Moving his Atlas to the center of the long roadway that served as the main highway into the city, he stood and awaited the first sight of their foe. It was beginning to get dark as night crept in and began it's own campaign to conquer the sun, if only for one more night. It felt like an eternity as he sat there and stared out at the red sky, watching the beauty of the clouds dance across the sky as the sun burned golden half hidden by the curvature of the planet, as like some oil painting come to life right before his eyes.

Far off on the horizon he finally spied four dark shapes against the landscape, moving quickly towards the city. Two of the machine's profiles seemed familiar but two looked somehow....wrong. They came to a stop well beyond the limits of the city obviously seeing the trap laid out before them. Just a little closer now....just inside the city...he was about to lose hope of this working when one of the strange looking 'mechs moved forward just beyond it's own group to stop ahead of them, peering into the city. His open comm channel chirped to life, "This is Star Captain Morgana Tseng and I hereby claim this planet in the name of Clan Ghost Bear. Surrender and you will be treated fairly."

It was almost hard to believe their arrogance, demanding they surrender and with only four 'mechs posed to assault the city. Weatherford wasn't a fool, the fact that huge swaths of the periphery were disappearing was testament to their potential power, but nothing else but this small lance was appearing on radar. Other landings had taken place, but the Raiders had been quiet up to this point as well. He decided it was best to answer with silence as he moved his Atlas to be partially obscured behind the tall skyscraper to his right.

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After a few minutes had passed, infantry fire had erupted at the outskirts of the city as their adversary had actually pressed forward at full speed into the awaiting ambush as if they held no fear of what lie within. Checking his radar again, he blinked. Twice. The Ghost Bear 'mechs weren't close enough to be engaging the outlying defenders, yet he could see LRM and laser fire streaking between his enemy and those soldiers. They were also closing the distance incredibly fast, the heat they must be generating would be cooking their pilots alive even with this deep snow crushing the planet. What did they know to push ahead so fast and so recklessly?

Biting his mic again he opened his forces secure comm channel, "Get ready to engage! Wait till they're almost upon the buildings them open fire. Draw them deeper into the city!" Watching the quite impossible distance tick down on his hud, Weatherford squared his two golden reticules over the frame of an enemy 'mech his computer was having a hard time identifying. It looked like a Catapult now that he was nearer...but it kept dancing between classifying it as a Marauder as well. He thumbed the switch on his right control stick and sent a salvo of LRM 20's at it, having to duck back behind the building he was using for cover as it's pilot supernaturally fixated on him and let loose it's own flight of missiles and lasers, blowing up huge chunks of building and sending them flying out into the intersection it sat at.

One of the lasers danced over the left arm of his 'mech sending rivers of metal raining down to mix with flurry of snow, making a mostly superficial gash on his pristine armor as he moved the arm out of the way just as the blow hit. The yellow light on his dash blinked to life again, the one he had used to communicate with the infantry leader moments before. "The enemy has slowed and isn't entering the city, they're just bombarding it with weapons fire. You guys had better do something or they're going to bring this city down around us block by block!" It wasn't desperation in his voice, but urgency as explosions muffled part of what he said.

Doing some quick thinking, Weatherford opened an open communication channel to the enemy as he moved his 'mech back out into the middle of the street. "This is Captain Benjamin Weatheford, I bid myself. Face me if you've got the guts to duel one on one." He had to get them into the city...this had better work or it'd be the shortest bluff of his life.

"Bargained well and done, Captain." Was the only reply as a huge lumbering battlemech squared against him far down the other side of the street, just beyond his maximum weapons range. It was like no 'mech he'd ever seen, two long barrels protruded from each of the 'mechs low slung arms attached to a hunched over center torso. It sat on back bent legs and moved at deceptive speeds for a machine of it's size , and Weatherford couldn't help but think he was staring down the barrel of his death. All the fighting had died down and nothing but an erie silence seprated him and his adversary now.

Hastily switching to his lances private channel, he almost yelled out but kept his voice steady, "Maniac, Preacher, you'd better be in position. As soon as I fire let her have everything you've got!" As soon as he was done, he shoved his 'mech forward to rush at the strange 'mech before him. Heat flooded his chilled interior as drew into firing range and let loose with his LRM 20. The enemy 'mech answered in kind as it was peppered with missiles, too few to make Weatherford happy, and opened up with two cascading beams of light, starkly brilliant against the darkening sky, slamming into his Atlas and rocking it backwards briefly. Fighting his control sticks as he would a wild bull, he jammed them hard as he could to the right into the cover of buildings again as his damage readout screamed bloody murder at him; just two shots from the enemy PPCS had wreaked havoc on his armor, scouring tons off at once from both his left shoulder and torso.

He had to blink past the bright light at his systems flickered from the blast to see two blips on his radar spring into motion. Weapons fire could be heard as the battle erupted once again, Maniac whooping at the top of his lungs as was his penchant as the first ambush was sprung. Bringing his 'mech around the right side of the building he spied both friendly 'mechs from either side of him in their hiding spots of the city continue to lay down fire. It seemed to have it's intended effect as the enemy barreled into the city like they were being whipped from behind by some demonic master.

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Bellowing over his forces comm channel again, he veered his 'mech back into cover, "All forces withdraw into the city and don't provide them targets. Keep your heads down!" He saw his unit spring to life again on his radar and hud as they moved to obey, moments away from the fiery cataclysms that awaited the enemy force.

Seconds turned into a minute. A minute turned into two. Something had gone wrong, nothing was happening. He tried raising the infantry commander in charge of blowing the initial explosives but all he heard were screams. "Sir! When are they going to blow the explosives? The enemy is right in the thick of them!" Maniac spoke quickly but directly, only a slight fear edging into his voice behind his usual confidence. His reply was cut short when the speakers came to life. "Oh god, they're everywhere!! Mendez was clawed in two! We're being over-" the comm chatter went ominously dark again as quickly as it had come to life.

Preacher had already moved his Victor up to get a clear line of sight on the enemy 'mechs as Weatherford spoke, "Shoot the first line of explosives then get back." Two huge explosions rocked the surrounding buildings as multiple cars and snow banks erupted at the feet of the enemy 'mechs, sending showers of flame, metal, and snow up towards the sky. Just under the sound of the explosions Weatherford could hear the enemy Captain scream "Freebirth Scum! Have you no honor?" and watched as they slowly back out of the city itself. The first ambush had been sprung, now part two of the plan would soon be put into motion.

"Trap is closing, Angel. Rain fire from the heavens." he said as he commanded everyone to push forward towards the edge of the city, towards the now retreating enemy 'mechs. "With pleasure, Mon Capitan." Watching as the enemy forced moved back through the mounds of snow into the open area just beyond the city, there was another long silence before a loud crack followed by miniature explosion rocked one of the 'mechs that looked like a Catapult. "Artillery fire accurate, keep it coming! All units, weapons free!" Running up to the very edge of the city, Weatherford added his fire to that of his combined arms and watched another Arrow IV missile slam into the smallest Ghost Bear 'mech, this one too possessing back bent legs and a low slung torso and two arms bristling with laser ports.

He watched as the smaller machine shook violently while losing it's footing, one three toed foot coming up into the air. Awaiting it's imminent downfall, Weatherford was surprised to watch it's pilot twist and effortlessly plant his machine back down onto the ground as if a second ago it hadn't almost been completely sideways. They were good whoever these pilots were, they hardly ever missed a single shot as they returned fire. Another surprise came in the form of watching their heat signatures which, even with the flurry of snow still raging outside their 'mechs, seemed not to budge. They should be running as hot as the sun with how much fire they had been unleashing, not to mention the speeds at which they moved.

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Static started popping in his earpiece as he saw Angel trying to talk over her comm channel. It was incredibly garbled so he only caught snatches of what she was saying "...attacked...heavy.......air cover....respond..." The line went dead as her 'mechs artillery suddenly stopped along with it. She'd only gotten off a few shots. Switching to his command channel to the jumpship he was greeted with the same static. Six medium lasers poured kilojoules of energy over his 'mech for his brief moment of inattention as the small 'mech unleashed part of it's weaponry. His damage display went crazy as hits registered all over his 'mech. Two dug into his already damaged left shoulder, three melted armor over his center torso, while the last sent metal cascading down his right leg just above the knee joint.

"Everyone back into the city! They've got too much firepower for open warfare, we need to isolate them and close the distance where we can control the engagement!" He clenched his teeth as he fought to control his 'mech after being caught unready. This time Preacher spoke up "What happened to Angel and all the aerospace? All I'm getting is static on all channels except our own."

"I don't know. Second ambush has failed and we need a better position in case we need to disengage. We might be outgunned here." he replied, trying to keep his voice level even though it seemed that everything was falling apart. It was sliding even deeper into night as the sun had finally gone down leaving the battlefield covered in only the light of burning buildings and craters. "Regroup at the fountain near the center, we'll try separating them there."

Moving his 'mech back into the cover of the city as he eyeballed his damage indicator again, he met up with Preacher's Victor as they had to pass between two large skyscrapers followed shortly thereafter by Maniac's Thunderbolt. Neither looked as badly damaged as his Atlas was for which he counted himself lucky if only by virtue that his support would be able to hold up better then he would should things turn bad. As the neared the large fountain that stood in front of a large building that seemed to have served as some kind of political office their radar sprung to life with new contacts. ""Maniac, cover left flank. Preacher on our right."

His comrades moved into action immediately as Weatherford took position behind the large office. The Ghost Bears were moving single file down the road just north of them and would be in visual range soon as the city thinned at this point giving way to a few trees and parks. This was their only fall back point as another line of explosives had been packed to the brim into the two buildings that commanded the only entrance by street from the north. "I'm only counting three contacts, Red Eagle. Do you think Angel's barrage managed to take one down?" Maniac said. "We can only hope so, but I didn't see any go down before we had to pull back. Keep and eye out." replied Preacher.

As soon as Preacher had finished, laser fire erupted from Maniac's direction. One of the enemy 'mechs must have had jump jets and was trying to get behind them. "Alex get over there and support him! I'll keep the main line busy!" Preacher's Victor disappeared behind the line of buildings as he watched Maniac's blip start moving towards the open area between the buildings, towards the fountain. "Maniac, don't run into the open! They're about to be right on top of us!"

Maniac's Thunderbolt crashed through a deep snow bank kicking up a large screen of snow as it steamed into the open area at full speed, walking backwards trying to return fire as multiple emerald lances vaporized the air around him and all over his 'mech. The enemy was charging right at him, never relenting in his barrage as it took off the Thunderbolt's right arm at the shoulder in short order. Where was Preacher? He should have been close enough to lend assistance.

"Preacher, come in. Where are you?" Weatherford said as he thumbed the firing stud for his Autocanon/20. A huge slug vomited from it's torso mounted barrel and slammed with a sickening screech in the enemy 'mechs already damaged left leg, but the 'mech refused to go down. "You'd better get over here, Nick can't take much more fire!" The heat in his cockpit began to rise again as he followed up with all four of his medim lasers, trying desperately to stave off Maniac's destruction at the hands of this strange 'mech.

What happened next could only have taken less then a minute, but it feel like it dragged on forever as he watched. From behind a squat building just behind the enemy 'mech Preacher's Victor rose on pillars of fire heading directly at the Ghost Bear machine. Something was wrong as his 'mech wobbled mid air and Weatherford saw small armored ants covering it while Alex shook his torso violently. It came to him that this must be what had happened to the infantry as he watched pieces of armor being literally stripped off the Victor as it came crashing down on top of the enemy 'mech. Maniac lost control of his 'mech as one more barrage rocked it to the ground before his brother's 'mech could collide with Maniac's assailant.

He half heard Preacher screaming over their com channel ,"They're tearing into my cockpit! Captain, brother, get out of here!" as he watched the other two enemy 'mechs enter the central area of the city they had fallen back to. "Nick, MOVE NOW." he continued and it seemed as if Manic was taking heed....but almost as if by rote. His Thunderbolt moved slowly as if he was still stunned or wouldn't leave his downed kin.

Preacher's Victor must have been damaged badly in the collision as when he tried to right himself and stand his right leg buckled and threatened to slam him back down into the snow. Instead, he caught the enemy 'mech as it was standing and latched onto it, trying to drag it back down with him. "Maniac, get your 'mech in to cover, that's an ORDER!" he bellowed to snap him out of whatever gripped him and rooted him into spot.

Missiles began raining down around them as the enemy's across the large courtyard began opening fire on their position, followed again by incredibly precise laser fire. Another PPC from Star Captain Tseng's machine lanced out and finally removed his Atlas's left arm, causing it to fall free to crash into the ground beside him and rendering two lasers impotent. Weatherford would have lost control and fallen, or rather he did but was saved falling sideways into the building next to him as he was imbalanced due to the sudden lost of weight.

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He almost didn't hear the last exchange over comms as a horrid screeching sound accompanied his fall into the building, windows and steel breaking and shattering under his assault 'mechs weight only to finally rest halfway into the building. "I'm going to buy you guys time. Get out of here, we can't take them out like this. I'm going to overload my reactor and set off the other explosions."

"Like HELL you are!" He could hear the frustration and anger in Maniac's voice, "I'm not letting you kill yourself because of that damn promise to mom."

"I- I'm not making it home either way, brother. One of those damn metal men ripped open my viewport..." a loud hacking cough emitted from his headset. "I'm already dead, Nick. I'm sitting in a pool of my own blood, I can't feel the right side of my body and...I can't see out of one eye. It- It's getting hard to breath...I'm- I'm having a hard time staying conscious."

"Don't follow, brother. I'm going where you can't come with me."

The line went dead as Weatherford scrambled to stand his Atlas, fumbling almost uselessly at the twisted carnage it's fall created. To his surprise Maniac was moving away. If anything was being said it wasn't on an open channel.

As he and Maniac drew back farther into the city, moving towards it's southern most edges, a violent explosion rocked his 'mech so hard it almost threw it back to the ground. A quick glance out his viewscreen told the story; Maniac's 'mech had fallen in Weatherford's place, and the night sky was lit by one massive cloud of smoke and fire as Preacher's Victor created a smoldering crater where the courtyard once was with the last two buildings following suit. Finally tearing his eyes away after watching a few more buildings collapse in the surrounding area, he opened a channel to Maniac. "We have to get out of the city, Maniac. We can hope but can't count on that taking them all out, I didn't see the last one enter the opening."

Maniac's Thunderbolt stood up after a few tries while he replied between suppressed sobs. "Yes, sir." It was the first time he didn't know what to say to his subordinate. Preacher was only here due to SIEG opening a new path for members to become Mechwarriors. He had put the idea forward himself, allowing exceptional candidates test into becoming a 'mechwarrior from the enlisted if they were in the top 5% in simulators. The Raiders had used the same program to help swell their ranks with exceptional pilots and to bolster their ranks when they needed more manpower.

He hoped Maniac didn't blame him for his brother's death by proxy, but until they could get out of this mess he had to shove it to the back of his mind so long as Maniac continued to follow orders. He'd seen the man break all sorts of rules but never any order that was actually important, he just liked to boast about being the best and get into bar brawls.

As they moved out of the city towards the distant hills his he heard a new voice pipe in over comms in between bits of static. "This is Sergeant Elizabeth Grey, anyone receiving this respond, over?" The message was repeated a second time before he could make it out enough to reply. "This is Captain Weatherford, why are you so far south, Phoenix?"

"Our position was overrun by enemy forces shortly after the battle was joined. They had heavy aerospace cover that brought down our dropship shortly after it took off to move back to the rendezvous point. Our fighters helped clear them out but not before we had to withdraw."

"Everyone else from our lances are dead, sir." Corporal Iria Atalla added soon after.

An entire company reduced to four 'mechs in less then two hours. Eight pilots down and possibly dead. The loss was staggering, whoever these invaders were they were so vastly superior it was bewildering. "Make for the downed dropship. We might be able to meet up with any survivors there and it can provide at least a little bit of cover until we can contact the Raiders to see how they've fared." No one had to voice the underlying thought that was going through everyone's mind. There might not be anyone else if their enemy was this efficient.

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Finally arriving at the dropship and the rendezvous point proved to be no more heartening then Phoenix's report half an hour earlier. Listing severely to one side and looking like a gutted out jack-o-latern, it had seen better days. Fires licked at gaping holes in it's side as crew rushed to put them out, which the dense snow helped to keep from flaring back up. The reports of reinforcements were even more grim as all communications beyond close range were being blocked. Four of the 1st Blackburn's Raiders had arrived before they had by following the trail of destruction the downed dropship had caused on it's plummet back to Elissa's surface. They couldn't raise their comrades on comms, so they were in the same boat the rest of his unit was

The only bit of news that was any good was that Angel had survived. Her Catapult had been knocked out of commission as it was flushed from it's support position. She'd taken out a few fighters before being forced to eject while she limped back to the dropship. The beleaguered defenders were only given a brief respite when a scouting party had returned. The Ghost Bears were advancing on their position and would be there in under fifteen minutes.

His forces stood in silence as their enemy approached, each one knowing full well the likely outcome of their next battle. No one complained. The anticipation was palpable in the air, fear mixed with excitement to finally face their opposition while backed into a corner. Taking stock of the conditions of his forces, things looked as bad as he'd ever seen them. Sergeant Grey's Battlemaster seemed least worst for wear but that wasn't saying much, it was criss-crossed in laser etchings but hadn't lost anything vital...yet. Coporal Atalla's Shadow Hawk was missing it's shoulder mounted autocannon having had it's barrel melted off and partially obscuring her mech's viewport. One arm was savaged by what looked to be missile damage as it hung limp at it's side, a side that was mostly caved in as it's internals threatened to collapse if the wind blew too strongly.

Maniac's Thunderbolt had to be held together by sheer force of will. It, like both Preacher's Victor and Weatherford's Atlas, hailed from the armies of the Star League. It hadn't been passed down the family line like both of the others, but it was older and had seen more combat then both. Looking at it today it looked it's age, one arm completely servered at it's socket with wires and slagged metal protruding, and one leg a hairsbreadth from snapping under it's own weight. The remaining Blackburn's Raiders 'mechs were in similar shape having seen their own fair share of the fighting. Another Battlemaster, Shadow Hawk, and Thunderbolt, with a Quickdraw rounding out their contribution.

As their opponents finally came into view the combined element of St. Ives Expeditionary Force units and those of the 1st Blackburn's Raiders stood ready for whatever would come next. A voice coalesced from the nether, a voice he hoped to not hear again. "You cannot win. Stand down or be destroyed utterly and without mercy. I will not make this offer again." It was Tseng. She had survived Preacher's sacrifice, and it was like sulfur in an open wound. Five enemy Battlemechs stood before him, two of the awkward Catapults, Tseng's PPC monstrosity, and two of what looked to even dwarf her war machine. Her 'mech was only barely damaged, and one of the other frakenpults seemed only slightly moreso worse the wear. The others looked as pristine as if they had walked off the assembly line right there and then.

Staring down such an impossible foe was more then most men could handle. Lesser men would have broken. Weatherford thought he might have, had his entire force not lined up to either side of his Battlemech in quiet defiance. His resolve hardened and he knew what must be done.

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Lips moving as if possessed, he recounted words his grandfather had passed onto him from his ancestors over the open communication channel.

"When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home."

His entire line burst into action in the blink of an eye, hundreds of tons of machines of death churning the snow laden ground into swirls of mud and slush as they vaulted forward into the waiting arms of their adversary. A small victory, Tseng's 'mech took a single step back, so sudden and ferocious was their charge. The air between the two opponents erupted in the staccato bursts of autocannons, the hissing beams of laser fire, the screaming of missiles rushing past eying their targets hungrily upon rockets of fire. Concentrated fire brought one of the enemy frakenpults down as it was devoured by angry beams of light and exploding shells that shattered it's armored exoskeleton. Parts of it blew outward and flung themselves at it's compatriots while they returned fire, now themselves charging at Weatherford's line.

Night enveloped the battlefield as bursts of fire briefly lit up their surroundings. Switching to thermals helped him pick out the impossibly cool enemy machines as they continued their death charge. He watched Phoenix off to his right side exhange fire with one of the massive assault 'mechs on the Ghost Bear line. Heat plumed from her 'mechs image as she poured shot after shot into her target, never stopping to cool down between shots. She must have overridden her automatic shut down as the heat given off by her 'mech continued to climb, making it look like her namesake as smoke and heat occluded the air, almost blinding him if he looked directly at her.

He added his own fire as he let fly with his autocannon, SRM6, and the last two medium lasers at his disposal. Despite the deadly cold air outside his 'mech still became an ungodly sauna and his heat sinks desperately struggled to rid him of the influx of heat. His Autocannon round went high and missed, only half of his SRMS hit, but both his lasers followed further damage done by Phoenix. Ripples of light burst forth from the 'mech speaking of an imminent ammo explosion, but not before it could respond in kind. Targeting Phoenix's 'mech it let lose with a mind boggling amount of weaponry. Eight different lasers arched out of it's arm pods to slice her Battlemaster to pieces, followed closely by two autocannons firing so fast he almost mistook them for oversized machine guns. They ripped into the rents in her armor left by the lasers, covering her in a hail of explosions and smoke.

As the enemy assault 'mech exploded, Phoenix's mech was more memory then fact. Incredibly it's cockpit remained intact but it crashed forward to bury it's front in muck below, it's entire left side completely missing and one leg severed at the hip with it's armor looking as if it had been through a shredder.

These were their only victories. Their enemy had begun by only fighting one on one even damaged as his forces were, but now they were applying their fire where it was most devastating. Two of the Raiders 'mechs, their Battlemaster and Thunderbolt, went down in a flurry of amazingly accurate SRM fire while his own 'mech suddenly shuddered so violently he thought it might buck him from his command chair. Maniac had tried to step in front of his 'mech but the barrage from Tseng's mech had ripped through his straight into Weatherfords, four immensely strong PPCS slammed into his and Maniac's 'mech with astounding precision.

There was nothing to control this time. He could only snatch a glimpse as his damage readout read a direct reactor hit in addition to his other arm being removed from his Atlas before he felt gravity take over. So violent had been her retaliation that it had blown his 'mech backward with such force that he had no time to brace himself.

Darkness overtook him as soon as he hit.

Edited by Jack Gallows, 14 September 2013 - 04:49 PM.

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