6
I hope you enjoy. Like it or not, let me know what you think. It's the scenario that has been playing through my mind since day 1 of being asked to work on this project.
....
The Waiting...
...7 hours after the RCT assault began...
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears and there is sweat seeping into my eyes. I involuntarily squeeze my eyes shut to try and clear my vision and relieve the stinging momentarily. I dare not wipe them with my hand since that would require me to let go of the deadman's safety switch that I'm holding open with my right index finger.
In my helmet, I can hear the breeze blowing past my ears. From what I hear, this warm spring day is not uncommon on this planet. I can clearly smell the grassy fields that stretch out for many kilometers in any direction outside of this canyon. I can feel the morning sun slowly washing its way across my face as it crests the tops of the canyon and my skin reacts with pleasure in the warmth it gives. A pleasure that is normally taken for granted.
5 it blinks at me.
Hours ago, I was sitting in a cold and dark galley of a Union class drop ship, drinking that crap they called coffee. The room was filled with the usual mix of MechWarriors. You have your veterans, calmly preparing for the upcoming drop. You have your new guys, clamoring around, making noise, teasing and boasting about their upcoming performances and how victory will be swift and harsh. But then there was me. I looked around the room, looking at the faces of each and every one of them. Eleven MechWarriors... eleven sons... eleven souls devoted to a cause that may or may not have honorable intentions. Either way, they were all about to drop into a hell storm of metal and lasers.
I want to tell the juniors to shut the hell up, but they are no different than I was at that age. At that age... I say that like it was so long ago. It has only been eight years since I graduated from training. But in the life of a MechWarrior, eight years is an eternity. I used to think that over time I would get used to the whole process of BattleMech combat, but every drop proves me wrong. No matter how much you prepare, things go wrong. No matter how many years of combat you have under your belt, there's no way to predetermine what is about to happen on the battlefield. The other veterans in the room know this. This is why they sit quietly just counting the minutes remaining until the drop. Think of your loved ones now so you don't on the battlefield. Get ready, keep your mind clear. Remember your training and make sure you have a damn good connection with the neurohelmet.
4 it blinks at me.
Landing hard is something you really don't want to do. Numerous reports from various drops have told the story of pilots being removed from their BattleMechs as a quadrapalegic due to their spines collapsing on impact. You run your numbers, you make sure your ram jets are timed perfectly to allow loss of momentum and zero impact speed to take place. It doesn't matter if you fire too soon or too late. The outcome is the same. The sudden loss of your Y-vector velocity and the resulting hard landing that the legs of your 'Mech were never meant to withstand. Run your numbers and run them again so you can land and immediately take a defensive position or clear the landing zone for those following you. Just do what you were trained to do and come back to fight again.
It was David "Spearman" Komora of Delta company who failed this time. His light Owens landed on the edge of an embankment surrounding a sinkhole. His warning systems should have let him know of an uneven landing but for some reason he didn't compensate. Upon landing his 'Mech's left foot missed the edge and cause the right leg to hyper compress, buckling the leg and heavily damaging the knee and hip actuators. The off balance hard landing threw his head against the side of the cockpit and has not been heard from since. Let's just hope the medivac arrives in time...
3 it blinks at me.
First contact was made at 0-400. I had my company holding a defensive position between the LZ and Waypoint-Alpha. To our left was Alpha Company, to our right, Echo Company. We are the first line of defense between the enemy and the remaining 4 companies. At 1 klick out, we had our first line of IR thumpers, a series of pulsing IR light sources that aided our nightvision capabilities. At 1.5 klicks out, we had our second line of thumpers. Beyond that, signal degredation in the NV gear made it impossible to discern a Mech from a tree.
It all started with the two left-most thumpers at the 1.5 klick range going dark. Comms lit up instantly with "Movement detected" coming from multiple sources in Alpha Company. Senji Watanabe, Alpha Company's leader came across the wire, "Bravo command, do you confirm?".
I pressed the comms button. "Confirmed Alpha command, two thumpers, West at range 1.5 kilometers."
Again, Senji's voice called out, "Father Command, do you see any movement out there?". "Father Command" is the nickname we gave Forward Command in our division. That's because Father Command is lead by Hiroshi Nagama, a 30-year devotee to the House Kurita who refused promotions if it required him to be pulled from the battlefield. Out of anyone in the service, it would be Hiroshi that you would want to be fighting next to.
We were in a very bad position. Global Command wanted us in a covert position. We were to remain undetected until the main fighting force was within range of Corvan, a regimental capital city on Remagen. We were to recon this heavily guarded city after the movements of Hanse Davion's Operation Thor. His large battalion level movements have had a number of the Houses on alert and we were to confirm his intentions. So here we are, at the bottom of a rocky canyon at the edge of a endless expanse of open land. A legendary sitting duck. Whatever that was up ahead, we would have to deal with it quickly.
"Alpha Command, no sign of movement or engine cores detected. Visual recon required. Bravo Command, the Father Command wishes to talk to you, squawk channel 3." came the voice from the young administrator from Father Command's company.
"Copy, Father Command, switching to channel 3." I replied.
"Hakari? It's Hiroshi. Do you hear me?" The voice of Father Command Hiroshi is soft yet course. It is stern yet full of honor and respect.
"Yes Sir, I hear you." I reply.
"You and I have been through this enough together to know the gravity of this situation. We need to find out what's out there and we need to do it quietly. We are the edge of the Dragon's sword and we only strike at the right time as the sword falls. I trust you and always will, I need you to take care of this situation as we prepare for the next phase of our operation."
"Yes Sir, I understand. We are ever at your service." I look across the information screens in front of me as my thumb turns the comms dial back to channel six. "Shinji, I need you out there to find out what's happening. Take your lance along the west cliff face and try to flank whatever is out there. Keep your signatures low and do not engage unless commanded to."
"Yes Bravo Command, we're on the move now." was his reply. Covert and quiet... that's what we needed. Kind of an oxymoron when over 100 tons of BattleMech goes stomping off on a mission. But it's not long before the sound of their footsteps fall off in the distance.
2 it blinks at me. My arm is feeling heavy.
We are now 50 meters out of the mouth of the canyon and the air is electric with laser fire. We had to breech the mouth of the canyon to have any chance of surviving the division of Davion 'Mechs attacking us. We were already a lance down after Alpha was completely taken out by Long Tom fire. We should have known that they would use the thumpers as a means of targeting range. It was that bombardment that brought on the Davion strike force. As soon as Alpha was vaporized, they marched in lighting up the horizon like the sun starting to rise.
Charlie Lance is pinned down to the right. Bravo is spread out before me maintaining a defensive line while I help organize the rest of the division with Father Command. Gamma Command has lined his lance up behind me, elevated by a man made knoll of grass. His heavy and assault lance is firing LRMs and PPCs keeping the enemy at distance while the rest of our division tries to eliminate the lights that are keeping us pinned down with laser fire.
"Where are those damned re-inforcements?" I shout into comms line 6.
"ETA 40 minutes Bravo Command, we're stuck here for a bit, hold your ground."
40 minutes. When the average BattleMech skirmish lasts about 5 minutes tops, 40 minutes might as well be a year. I look up over my command console and see the massive Assaults taking position and using the rolling hills as cover. They're going to choke us out any minute. This is no random patrol. This is an organized division of 'Mechs. Somehow they knew we were going to be here. Someone told them something. Who wasn't a concern to me right now because that someone isn't piloting one of the enemy 'Mechs in front of me. But be sure that when I contact general command back in Kurita home territory, that person better fear the reaper.
Then it happens... LRMs start dropping from the sky. My AMS system kicks in and I can hear the chain fire of the twin guns growling like the sound of an angry dragon. To the right I see Charlie lance trying to use this time of bombardment as a chance to clear the laser fire that had them pinned down. "Not yet, hold on!" I think to myself. As I reach for comms, 3 Long Tom rounds land dead center of the lance. All I can see is smoke and dust and flying debris.
"Charlie Command do you copy?" I bark into comms. I listen for the reply intently as the crack of PPCs going off overhead cause me to flinch lightly. "Charlie Command, this is Bravo Command, do you copy?" After a short pause, "Echo Lance, are any of you able to respond?" Silence. I look to my right and the smoke clears enough to give me the answer I was not looking for. Charlie lance now lies in a mangled mess of twisted metal and burning myomer. I slam my hand down on the console in front of me.
"Father Command, this is Bravo Command, requesting immediate withdrawl back into the canyon for protection from those Long Toms! Do you copy!" I snap.
"Bravo Command, this is Father Command, request confirmed.. pull back now!" The voice was Hiroshi's. The voice was tinted with sorrow but still had it's authorative overtone.
"Bravo Command to all remaining units, withdraw back into the canyon now!" I command. "Bravo lance, line formation on me, we're going to hold of those Javelins as the rest of the division falls back."
"Roger." Repeated all down the line across comms. I glance up again from the command console and see my lancemates form the line beside me. "I have two fast movers at 11 o'clock bearing 0-9-5." I call out.
"Confirmed and engaging!" It was Kam Yamota. A 3-year veteran and basically my right hand man. His medium lasers began to glow as he fired burst after burst. A careless Javelin takes a full hit in its right ammo container and the entire top torso explodes. The majority of our division is now funneled into the canyon.
"V-formation and fall back, I'm at point, move move move!" I command. Kam joined by Sato Kimoji on the far right of me start backing their 'Mechs up while maintaining forward fire. Shortly after, Isho Ohoji to my immediate right starts to back away. I'm am the last to start to back up. I look straight ahead and watch the encroaching enemy force.
Another blip on short range radar appears. "Hostile movement!" I report. I glance up and the narrow field of view that the canyon provides doesn't allow me to make visual contact. I look down to the radar again, and again I see the blip. Where the hell is he? "SIR!" I hear on coms. I glance up just in time to see a heavy BattleAxe drop into view. This isn't good. "TAKE COVER!" I yell.
1 it blinks at me. "Press it." I hear in my head.
The sounds of war vary mission to mission. From the thud of impact to the ear shattering boom of a Long Tom round to the almost laughable sound of small arms fire boucing harmlessly off BattleMech armor creates a cacophany of near symphonic quality. But one sound is unlike the rest. It is the impact and high pitched sizzle as a PPC round literally burns through a 'Mechs armor like soft bread. The initial pang of the round breaking through armor is almost a minor note compared to the sizzle that follows. Metal literally turning into gas in a fraction of a second. This sound is accompanied by the intense heat given off by the friction and burning of metal.
"Press it!"
Then there's the smell. The acidic like stench that burns the nostrils and makes one feel as though they have a bloody nose. That ferrous taste of blood runs down the back of your throat.
"Press it now!"
I am now very aware of my surroundings. My head had tilted to my left which left me gazing at the spot where my left arm used to be. The gaping hole in my cockpit was bringing in smoke from what was left of my Komodo's left hip actuator. I was frozen in place in a coffin of Valiant Lamellor armor.
"PRESS IT!"
My right thumb contracts from the will of my body and the TAG activator lights up. I let my right arm fall loosely to the control stick. The upper torso of my Komodo swings up and to the right and slams into it's final position. I can hear the metallic groans of the myomers trying to move past their limits to accomodate my commands.
The TAG indicator is visible on the upper right edge of what's left of my visor. It has settled on the upper right ridge of the canyon entrance. It is unerring and holds true.
I see the first impact of the RCT Long Toms crumbling the ridge into large chunks of rock that start to fall toward me. This is followed by the second which strikes the top left of the canyon ridge. More 'Mech blocking rocks start to fall. I hear the third and fourth rounds hit. Where they hit, I have no idea, all I can see is the impending shadow falling toward me. I hear salvo after salvo of LRMs launch behind me. It's what's left of our division using my TAG to further bring down the canyon opening.
It goes dark. "You did it." I say to myself peacefully. I taste blood in my mouth but I am too weak to spit it out. My visor has gone dark and after a brief flicker of electronic light, my entire cockpit has fallen dark. I now lay in my tomb of stone and metal still aware of what just happened. I let my eyes close and I remember the warm feeling of the sun on my face. I cling to that feeling since I cannot feel anything else.
The voice in my head whispers one more time...
"Live long my brothers, cherish life more than victory, Shiro Kurita could not have been more wrong than using the Samurai Code of Honor in such a distateful way. We all follow commands blindly as I did for House Kurita, and as you just did following my last order that has brought me to this final place of rest. Fight for true meaning, not fame or honor.
I must rest now...for I am tired..."
Edited by Paul Inouye, 12 February 2012 - 09:52 AM.
who doesn't finish a sentence? seriously? sheesh!
