Stormfront

by Deadborder

Sequel to They Say/Ascention Road; Some days, everything does go exactly to plan. Problem is, it may not be your plan

Sharma

Mithron

Hyades Union, Taurian Concordat

2 September 3072

OPERATION SIXTH WORLD

Before she had been a mercenary MechWarrior, before the accident that had ended her career and long before she had ever heard of the world of Mithron, Sandra Blackmore had been a police officer. Besides a generous disability pension and a round of scars, the experience had left her with a lot of useful skills.

One of those skills was the ability to sit still in a single spot for a long time and watch a target. It wasn't a glorious job, nor was it a particularly interesting one, but it was one that she was well-suited for. Sitting in a nondescript rental car and watching a shipping company's warehouse was a task that she was rather good at, and one that she was being employed for at the moment.

Besides, it meant that nobody was shooting at her, which was a bonus.

When Levisha had lined up this job, Sandra had been surprised that they had been taking it. Staring at a warehouse all day seemed like a task you'd hire a private investigator for, not a mercenary company built on dark secrets and never telling the truth. However, she'd also dropped one other bit of information about the target (and done that annoying 'I know something that you don't' grin of hers at the time); a single word used in connection to it.

Arasaka. The name had appeared on the information they'd recovered from the pirates in her first op with the Mimetic Badarses. It was a codename for an operation of some sort, one being run by a mysterious third party that had apparently equipped and directed the pirates in question. The only person who could have explained further was a mysterious cyborg who had been amongst the pirates, but clearly not one of them. Of course, when he had set himself on fire, it had killed any chance of getting an answer out of him.

So when they found that word occurring again in the same part of space, it was definitely worth looking at. They'd followed a trail of breadcrumbs that had given them a location; this warehouse. Of course, it hadn't told them what exactly Arasaka was. That was why they were watching and waiting.

"How's it going, Black Stig?" Levisha's voice crackled over her communicator.

"Fan-frelling-tastic." Sandra muttered in reply. "I can guarantee that absolutely nothing has changed in the last indeterminate time period since you last asked, White Stig. It is still a crummy warhouse in the middle of Bogtool, Nowhere on a crappy planet in a crappy Periphery State which, when people remember it exists is referred to as 'hey, it's the cow guys, are we at war with them?'"

She could hear Levisha laugh on the other end of the line. Glad someone finds this funny.

Personally, Sandra wanted to be closer to the target so she could get a better idea of what was going on. It also meant that she could stretch her legs a little, which would help. Unfortunately, being tall, muscular, scarred, wearing an eyepatch and being somewhat scary looking, Sandra tended to be somewhat distinctive looking at the best of times. If anyone in the aforesaid crappy warehouse saw her, they'd probably immediately figure that someone was onto them.

Fortunately, there was one other member of the Mimetic Badarses possessed of excellent investigative skills, an eye for detail and an ability to watch boring warehouses for extended periods.

"How are things with you, Fat Stig?"

Unfortunately, it was Reg.

"Well, I did notice one thing." He replied, Sandra listening in on the channel. "This warehouse is lot 11, 63 Kennedy Drive. Jeff Kennedy was a 20th century president of the United States of America, who was assassinated in November, 1963. His true killer was never caught, though there is evidence to link his assassination to the Cabal of the Immortals. The auspicious numbering of this particular warehouse is clearly significant to the Cabal; I suspect that they use it as some sort of storage facility for those who they have kept on ice who were connected to that particular incident."

"That's absolutely fascinating." Levisha replied in a tone that made it clear that it obviously wasn't. "However, Fat Stig, what I want to know is if there's been any recent activity."

"Well no. Nothing's changed where I am either. Though I am glad to report that nobody seems to have made me as yet."

Which was Reg's other great asset. As long as you didn't talk to him, he was one of the most bland and eminently forgettable people you could ever encounter. Slightly overweight, his features were otherwise completely missable and non-distinct. He could blend into any crowd with ease, becoming a face in the mob that nobody could pick out. You would never spot Reg and, if you did, you'd immediately dismiss him and probably forget he was there.

"How are things on your end, Ascendance Lead?"

"Nothing." Elezha replied, her tone completely flat and neutral. "Their electronics are still quiet and there has been no communication activity of any kind. They are either lying low or they are not there at all."

Sandra had been even more concerned about the cyborg then usual of late. With every bit of information that was being discovered about the Word's Manei Domeni operatives, she showed a bit more fear of them. And while being afraid of killer cyborgs was a perfectly reasonable response, her reaction wasn't what Sandra would expect. It was less the fear of what they could do, but more a fear of what they were and what they represented. In fact, Sandra would say it bordered on outright revulsion.

It made her wonder if there was a connection between them and her and, if so, if that was what she was afraid of.

To make matters even more confusing, she and Lynn had returned from her leave on Taurus with a doctor in tow, some guy called Pogota. They hadn't said why they'd bought him with them or exactly who he was, but it was clear that there was some connection between him and her. None of them were willing to talk about what had happened on Taurus, which only made things more confusing. For now, Doc Pogota was being kept on one of their rented jumpships, and that seemed to be the end of it.

Of course, Levisha seemed to know more about him and, of course, wasn't telling and, of course, was letting everyone know that in the annoyingly smug way she had.

Muttering to herself, she went back to watching the warehouse. In many ways, she was hoping something would happen soon. If the shooting started, it would mean that Reg would shut up and Levisha would stop being smug. Maybe.

It was as dusk approached, a short, antagonising eternity later, that finally something happened. Watching from her station in the groundcar, Sandra could see a truck approaching; specifically, the sort of heavy, slab-sided model one would associate with an armoured delivery van, one intended for the transport of valuables. Or other precious cargos, she mentally added. "Black Stig here. We have an armoured van on approach."

"Think this is it?" Levisha asked.

"Positive. It's a delivery man working after five. That's about as suspect as it gets."

"Roger that. Move in, but stay low." She finished.

Sandra climbed out of the car, moving towards the fence. Taking advantage of the dimming light, she hung close to the mesh barricade, keeping in the shadows between the lights in the compound and the streetlamps. With her black coat, she blended into the darkness, helping to obscure her features and making her hard to spot. Even then, she made sure to watch her surroundings, to keep her eye open for anyone that may be watching her.

"This is Fat Stig." Reg's voice cut in on her micro-communicator. "You were right, Black Stig. Truck has entered the compound." Sandra paused around the corner from the entrance, waiting patiently. A quick glance revealed Reg casually wandering down the street around the corner from her, looking for all the world like an ordinary paranoid whackjob, rather then a paranoid whackjob on a cover operation.

"What's happening in there?" Levisha asked as Sandra ducked back around the corner.

"Let's see..." He began, trailing off in his oddball manner that he had when watching something. "Yep, the truck's in the warehouse, but they've left the door wide open. Truck is stopped, back is open. Ok, got a man approaching in an Industrial Exoskeleton; I'd say that it's a GM Heavyhauler or, at least, a local knock-off. Though it would be ironic for a Taurian company to be using a GM-built exo-"

"Just get on with it, Fat Stig." Levisha cut in.

"Aaaah yeah. OK, I have a clear look at the back of the van. They have a large silver case in there. Its heavy-looking, clearly reinforced. Given that the Heavyloader has a two-ton capacity, I'd say that this is the cargo the intel mentioned."

Sandra sighed at Reg's blurting out all the details. Great detective, terrible person.

"Roger that, Fat Stig. This is what we're here for." Levisha finished. "Black Stig, commence phase one of the operation."

"Confirmed, going in." Sandra finished. Making sure she was well out of sight of the gate, she turned towards the fence. A jump was enough for her to grab the top of it, even if she could feel the ends of the mesh jabbing at her through the material of her gloves. With a grunt, she pulled herself up, then vaulted over the top of the fence, landing as quietly as possible on the other side behind a pile of crates.

A quick once-over of the site told her what she wanted to know; there was plenty of clutter, most stacked without any regard for site security. Giving a quiet thanks to human nature, she began advancing towards the gate. Staying as low as possible, she managed to weave her way towards the guard's post on at the entrance without exposing herself. Reaching the back of the booth, she gently prodded the door.

Unlocked. Perfect.

She sized up her options, then settled on the least subtle and most direct approach possible. Yanking the door open, she charged into the booth. The guard inside had only seconds to react to the crazy one-eyed woman running at him before she grabbed his right arm, twisting it behind his back before it even came close to his holster. With the other, she slammed him, face-first, into one wall of the booth. The guard managed a grunt, which prompted her to slam him again and then a third time.

The last hit didn't elect a grunt of response, so she warily released him, letting him slump to the floor. Disarming him, she quickly bound his hands with a twist-tie, before reactivating her communicator. "Black Stig here. Front gate is secure"

"Roger that. Cargo is inbound." Levisha confirmed. "Fat Stig will rendezvous with you and then move in."

"Understood." She kept her eye on the compound, watching those inside for any signs of movement. So far, they were quiet, concentrating on unloading the large metal crate from the truck. They certainly didn't seem to have noticed the replacement of the guard at the gate.

The sound of an approaching truck caught her attention. Glancing back, she could see a large, black van by the gate, the sort that just screamed 'government operatives'. That Reg was standing by it was enough for her to know that this was just what she wanted. Sandra quietly hit the button to open the boom gate, allowing the truck to enter.

It was all going smoothly. So what's going to screw up first?

Somebody noticed the approaching van and shouted out. That was an acceptable part of the plan; few people would fail to notice such a conspicuous vehicle at the best of times, and certainly not on a Taurian world. That it had gotten this far without being noticed was good enough for Sandra. There was a shout for security, while the Exoskeleton unloading the crate tried to backpedal further into the warehouse.

"All units!" Sandra called out over her communicator. "Go, go, go!"

The van's sides opened up, squads of soldiers leaping out of them. Clad in heavy body armour, their features concealed by helmets and gas masks and carrying large shields, they could have been mistaken for a SWAT team or riot control troops. It was an easy enough mistake to make; these were Ali's Vipers, a team that were a part of the Mimetic Badarses' arsenal who were trained and equipped specifically for urban combat.

Sandra joined them, drawing her pistols from their holsters inside her coat, following the first wave of the assault force. Reg was just behind her, a needler pistol in hand. She hoped to god he didn't have to use it; the thought of Reg with a firearm was terrifying enough, but one that worked on a "wave it in the general vicinity and pray" principle was too horrible to consider.

"Get down on the ground!" Ali Quarac, the leader of the assault force called out, his voice clear through the speakers built into his faceplate. "All of you, get down on the ground, now!" He indicated with the barrel of his MP-20 SMG to illustrate the point. "You in the Exoskeleton; put down the crate very carefully and then step out of the frame. This is your only warning!"

The squad continued to advance, riot shields up, weapons levelled. Inside the compound, the workers seemed to get the idea, most of them content to lie down rather than risk the ire of heavily armoured men waving around firearms. The operator of the exoskeleton also seemed to be complying, slowly lowering the metal crate that was their objective. Sandra wanted that crate secured, not only for the cargo inside it, but for the simple fact that a two-ton metal box could do a lot of damage to someone.

As she followed the members of the assault team, Sandra kept a wary eye on her surroundings, looking around for any sign of anything amiss. Practical experience had told her never to assume that everything was going well and to always plan for the worst. The last time she'd failed to do that had cost her career and her eye.

Glancing further into the warehouse, she could see a large number of packing crates stacked inside, as well as a large office at the back, one that was a lot larger then she had expected and certainly more so then a normal warehouse like this would need. More ominously, its windows were all covered up from inside. "Hey!" She called out to one of the cowering workers, while gesturing with a pistol. "What's in there?"

He shook his head, giving a frantic look of denial. "Not an answer, toolbox. What's in the frelling office?"

Quarac nodded to her, then pointed at one of his men, gesturing at the office. The soldier cautiously advanced forwards, his riot shield up. Glancing at the door, Sandra could see nothing through the small window beyond darkness. It could be empty, she thought to herself. But probably isn't.

Abruptly, the tense silence was broken by a burst of automatic gunfire; the soldier in the doorway staggering back and collapsing. Before anyone else could react, the windows of the office shattered open, a squad of heavily armed men behind them. Clad in fatigues, their armoured vests were partially covered by their longcoats, their heads protected with combat helmets. A hail of assault rifle fire burst forth, tearing into the warehouse proper, mowing down several more of the assault squad.

"It's a trap!" Quarac called out to his Viper team. "Get down, get down now!"

Sandra didn't need to be told twice. She was already vaulting for the nearest cover as soon as the first shots went off, but even that was not enough. There was a sharp, burning sting as a round grazed her shoulder, not doing anything beyond leaving a mark but still hurting like hell.

"They knew we were coming!" She called out. "They frelling knew it!" She glanced back at the office, trying to asses the situation. A row of soldiers were now crouched behind the windows, using the office wall, as flimsy as it likely was, for cover. Several more had spilled out from the doorway into the office, using the chaos of their initial assault as cover to move forward.

"What's going on, Black Stig?" Levisha demanded over the communicator.

"There's heavily armed goons in the warehouse already!" Sandra shot back. "They were waiting for us. They have better cover and probably numbers as well."

"Understood." She simply replied, her tone a stark contrast to Sandra's anger.

"Yeah; I know this is important and all, but we are frelling well-" she trailed off as she glanced over at one of the warehouse crew. The man was getting up, a pistol in one of his hands and a look on his face that did not suggest desperation or fear, but rather determination.

He raised his gun. Sandra was quicker, opening fire. A pair of rounds slammed into him, the man reeling back and crashing to the floor with a wet thump. "Frell it"

"Black Stig?"

"The warehouse crew were armed plants. They frelling well knew we were coming."

"Understood. Hold off for as long as you can. Contingencies are in motion all ready." Levisha calmly offered. Somehow, Sandra was not convinced.

Another burst of gunfire tore past her, ripping apart a packing crate by her head in a shower of splinters and sawdust. Snarling, she dashed from cover, firing back at the attacker as she went before diving behind another box. Her goal was less about killing them as it was more about keeping their heads down and buying time.

"Pull back to the gate" Quarac's voice came over the command channel. "We will hold there until backup arrives."

It was a solid plan, putting distance between them and their attackers while shifting the terms of the battle. In order to keep them pinned in, the armoured goons would have to leave their cover and advance, and thus risk exposing themselves. It wasn't a winner by any stretch, but certainly one would buy them some time.

"Go, go, go!"

She again popped up, firing on a soldier who had been advancing on her position. Several rounds caught him, dropping him to the floor. Using the chance, she dashed forward, weaving between boxes while taking sporadic shots back. She was staying as mobile as possible, trying her best to simply stay alive and get back to the doorway.

It almost wasn't enough. Another burst of gunfire came from one of the soldiers. Sandra all but threw herself forward as she ran, crashing to the concrete floor as she did, but using her momentum to keep going. Sliding on her side, she opened up on him with her pistols, shots ripping through his chest before he crashed to the floor. Picking herself up as fast as possible, she dashed back towards the door of the warehouse, ducking behind a shelf near the entrance.

"Nearly there." She muttered to herself.

The reward for her effort was a sudden dashing of any hope she may have had. A section of the chain-link fence was ripped out of its base as a large delivery truck rammed through it, slamming aside the boxes in the courtyard before stopping between the warehouse and their own vehicle. No sooner had it halted then its back and side doors were flung open, more of the coat-wearing soldiers inside it.

"Frell it!" She shouted out, ducking behind the doorway. "White Stig, we are in a metric crapton of trouble here. They've called in a second truck and we are frelling cut off!"

"Understood. Sit tight, help is on the way." Levisha was being annoyingly clam about this.

"Help is on the frelling way" Sandra mumbled to herself. "Thanks a heap, you big tool fairy" She glanced around the corner, opening fire before ducking back around the corner into cover. "Well this is about as tooled up as it could possibly get."

As if to offer an alternative, a stream of plastic darts tore into the frame just by her, shredding plasterboard and wood, sending splinters and dust flying. She glanced back behind her, fuming anger evident on her face. Nearby. Reg was partially concealed behind a crate, a pistol in his hand.

"Reg! If I catch you firing that needler again at anyone – I don't care whom, I will personally – tool! Move!"

Her fellow operative scrambled away as a huge metal crate crashed down where he had been crushing the box he'd been hiding behind to splinters. Standing over the debris was the Exoskeleton and its operator, all but forgotten in the chaos that had broken out. No sooner had Reg begun to run as it picked up another crate in its lifting claws.

"Hey! Pick on someone who isn't just a slow-moving fat target!" Sandra shouted out as she opened fire with one of her pistols. The shots bounced off its mechanical arm, but it was enough to catch the operator's attention. The machine turned towards her, a metal crate raised over its head.

Now why did I go and do that? Sandra asked herself as she broke into a run, just as the Exoskeleton threw the box at her. Sailing right past her head, it instead crashed into a row of shelves that she had been using as cover, shattering them and sending their contents crashing to the ground. As she tried to dash away from it, she opened fire again, her shots narrowly missing the hulking machine.

Another crate sailed past her, this one gouging into the floor as it barely missed her. Twisting around, she fired another shot at the frame as she tried to get back towards the doorway, hoping to use the original delivery van as cover. This seemed not to deter her pursuer, which simply picked up another box to hurl at her. Its method was crude, and the operator's options were limited, but there was no denying its effectiveness; several hundred kilos of packing crate in the face would hurt a lot.

A burst of gunfire threw her off, shots tearing into the side of the delivery truck. Glancing back, she could see one of the enemy soldiers quickly reloading his rifle. Sandwiched in. Not frelling good at all. She took advantage of his momentary distraction to squeeze off a shot, then run again, looking for some place she could find protection from her pursuers while realising at the same time that she had managed to paint herself into a corner.

The roar of automatic weaponry sounded again, perilously close to her. She could hear the sounds of the bullets shredding the end of her coat, throwing herself to the ground as she did. More shots followed up, shredding the boxes around her. Rolling over, she looked around desperately for any other options, only to instead see the Exoskeleton looming over her, a metal box in its clawed hands.

"Well tool." She muttered.

"Bang" The voice was little more than a whisper, carried straight to her ear via her communicator. She blinked; in that instant, a shot tire through the chest of the exoskeleton's operator who looked just as surprised about this development as she did. He tottered forward, the loader's safeties suddenly taking over to compensate for the operator's sudden loss of control. The Exoskeleton locked in place, crate still raised, while the pilot slumped dead inside it, a morbid accessory to the piece.

Glancing up, Sandra could see a figure on top of a nearby highway overpass, carrying a large rifle. The sound of engines approaching caught her attention, distracting her from the figure; when she glanced back again, they were gone, but the sounds of motors remained, building in intensity.

Just as abruptly as the truck had entered, teams of ATVs poured in through the front gate and the gap in the wall. With the drivers wearing boy armour and full-face riding helmets and their vehicles panted flat red with black camouflage patterns, neither sported any insignia nor form of identification. Which meant that Sandra instantly recognised them.

"Well what do you know, the tool actually came through."

The ATV-riding soldiers opened fire, spraying the longcoat-wearing attackers with automatic weapons mounted on their vehicles. Shots tore into the enemy soldiers as well as their delivery van, cutting them down in the courtyard as they struggled to respond to the attack. A few of them turned to respond, only to find that their attackers were already in motion, keeping their ATVs moving as they surrounded and continued to fire on them.

She knew who they were; a team of infantry who worked for the Mimetic Badarses, known only as the Theodolite Men for some reason Sandra could but guess at. Right now, she didn't care that none of them seemed to know what a theodolite actually was, just that they were there.

Leaping up from where she was, she opened fire again on the soldiers towards the rear of the warehouse, confident that the ones at the front were well under control. Her shots struck home, winging a soldier and forcing him to fall back. Around her, members of Viper Team were following her lead, pushing forward.

For their part, the coat-wearing attackers were trying their best to regain the initiative, but it was an uphill battle. Emboldened by the relief offered by their rescue, the members of Viper team were determined to press their advantage. Just as quickly as it had begun, their counter-offensive stalled, seeing them fall back under a hail of automatic gunfire.

Outside, Sandra could hear the sounds of gunfire with the occasional whumph of a grenade detonation, suggesting how well things were going between the second group and the Theodolite Men. The two groups were separated and had found their numbers advantage suddenly reversed. The presence of a sight unseen sniper (or snipers; it was always hard to tell) made things even worse for them.

Just because the situation was going their way didn't mean that Sandra – or anyone else – could afford to get cocky. The members of Viper Team were advancing with their shields up, using whatever cover was available. For Sandra, it meant that she had to keep low and keep moving, not having the advantage of heavy body armour and a riot shield. The odd burst of gunfire was enough to keep her focused, making sure she didn't get careless.

Glad we're not here for anything but the one crate, she thought to herself as she observed the damage done.

In the face of their advance, the enemy soldiers chose to fall back towards the office they had originally sprung from. Continual fire permitted them a degree of protection from Viper Team's advance, allowing them to regroup and concentrate their remaining strength. Covering each other, they pulled back into the office, taking advantage of the cover there.

Sandra dashed forward, reaching the side of the office. Pressing herself up against the wall by the doorframe, she paused, signalling to Quarac as his squad positioned themselves around the office. Nodding, she leaped around, kicking in the door and, just as abruptly, falling back. A hail of gunfire was the response, tearing up the empty doorframe while reducing the door itself to splinters. After a few seconds, there was silence.

"Now, go!" The members of Viper team surged forward, firing back into the doorway while keeping their riot shields up. She knew the plan; rather than aiming at something specific, they were simply emptying lead into space and aiming to keep their enemy pinned down and off-balance. Actually hitting something was a bonus.

After a few moments of silence, a nod of the head sent a member of Viper team advancing through the ruined doorway, shield up and gun at the ready. Behind him came several more members of the team, with Sandra following by vaulting over the ledge of the ruined office window, ingoing the fragments of glass that dug into her gloves for the moment.

Inside was a wreck. The indiscriminate automatic gunfire had torn up most of the office, leaving behind a mess of shredded furniture, bullet-ridden walls and, of course, dead bodies. Several of the enemy soldiers had fallen and lay dead or dying inside. The back door, on the other hand, was wide open.

"Enemy troops are escaping." She heard Quarac speaking into his communicator. "What's your status, Theodolite team?"

"This is Theodolite Man. Enemy team out here is neutralised." The lack of gunfire in the background seemed to support his statement. "We'll chase them down. You secure the site and the objective."

Well, I suppose this is a victory or something, Sandra observed. "Black Stig here. Fat Stig and I will handle this." She glanced back at the ruined warehouse. "Assuming he's still alive."A waving hand shot up from behind a crate.

"Understood, Black Stig." Levisha replied. "What's your status?"

"Someone tried to kill me with a forklift, but I'm fine now." She dryly replied.

Striding back into the warehouse, Sandra and Reg (who seemed to be largely unscathed) walked over to the silver-coloured packing crate that had been their original objective. Unlike the rest of the warehouse which had been shredded with gunfire and grenades, the crate itself was pretty much intact. Well, save for a single dead soldier draped over it, one of the attackers who seemed to have either been trying to protect the cargo or, maybe, had just found a bad place to die.

Sighing, she shoved him aside. "So, Fat Stig, how does it look?"

Reg furrowed his brow, looking over the case. He walked around it, poking its sides while looking carefully at it, measuring its size and shape, then closely examining the joints, the hinges and the locking mechanism.

"Well?" She asked as he continued to circle.

"Piece of cake. I can open this easily."

"You can pick a lock?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

"Of course." He began as he kneeled down by the front of the crate. "Lockpicking is a valuable investigative tool. You can learn an awful lot about someone by just how good their locks are. The better the lock, the more they're hiding."

Sandra rolled her eye. "Next thing you'll be telling me you go through people's garbage."

"That's a great way to learn more." Reg replied. "You'd be amazed what people throw away on the assumption that nobody's going to sift through their bins."

Sandra shook her head. "Some day, Fat Stig, some tool's going to catch you and shoot you in the face. I'm just saying, that's all."

"You know what?" He continued, not responding to her statement. "Given the conspicuous address of this building, I'm betting that there's going to be an Immortal in here. Someone who's been on ice since the late 20th or early 21st century... imagine the possibilities."

"Have you ever wondered why nobody else believes this crap, Fat Stig?"

"Hold on a sec..." Reg interrupted, possibly not even noticing what she was saying. "Got it."

Sandra nodded, then keyed her communicator. "Black Stig to White Stig. We have the cargo and are ready to open."

"Understood, Black Stig." Levisha replied, an almost expectant tone in her voice. "Go ahead, Black Stig."

Sandra nodded to Reg, who stood, and then opened the box. As soon as the lid was open, she looked over the contents, a pistol at the ready.

"Well?" Levisha's voice cut in.

Sandra looked down at the contents of the box; a pair of old, rusted groundcar engines, both looking like they'd been stripped for any useful parts long ago before being left to rot. Bits of spiderweb, small flakes of gravel and grass seeds seemed to only emphasise the point that this was not the cargo they'd come for. The whole thing had been a well-coordinated setup and, more to the point, one that was only possible if the target knew that they were coming.

"It's a frelling fake." Sandra replied, the anger evident. "Some tool set us up. The whole thing was a frelling trap." She lashed out, kicking the fallen soldier without even thinking.

"I see." Levisha replied, her tone conspicuously neutral. "Are there any leads on the identity of the attackers?"

"Let's see if these tools can tell us anything." Sandra muttered. "Possibly we can salvage something from this cock-up." She kneeled down, looking over the body of the fallen soldier, searching for any identifying marks. One did immediately grab her attention, a patch on his shoulder depicting a black fist on a silver shield. "Frell it."

"Something up, Black Stig?"

"Yeah." She replied as she looked over the fallen soldier. "Got an ID on the goons at the least. They're a merc unit known as 'Morgan's Black Hands' that I've fought before. They're working for the frelling Wobbies and don't mind showing it."

"I see. I'll try to find more on them and see if we can track them down. That might provide a lead." Levisha added.

"Right. I'll get the boys here to take a look around and see what we can find. Not that many of the goons here are in any shape to talk." She glanced over the warehouse. "Of course, if we find anything that hasn't been shot to all hell, it'll be a miracle."

Sandra would have freely admitted that, despite her past, her actual detective skills were lacking. She was a uniform cop, not a detective. Her experience lay mainly in shouting at people and beating them up when they failed to listen. Simple stuff. "Problem is that not everyone is as stupid as I like to think they are." She muttered to herself as she surveyed the destruction wrought. "They don't leave large sheets of paper with 'secret plans, do not read' lying around for anyone to find, much as I'd like them to."

With nothing better to do, she started with going over the ravaged office, looking for any paperwork that might lend a clue. The only computer in the office had been torn apart by gunfire, and she very much doubted that anything on it would be salvageable. Give Elezha a few weeks and maybe we could get a word out of it. Nothing else. Otherwise, it was just a matter of looking for anything useful; documentation, shipping manifests, receipts, something that would give her a clue as to what was going on.

Instead, all she found were bits of shredded paper and splinters. A part of her suspected that this would be the best that she could manage. If I was going to use my office for a trap, I'd assume the worst and not bet on the outcome. And in that case, I wouldn't leave any incriminating evidence behind. Observation began to confirm her thoughts; whoever had been here had made sure to clean the place out and leave nothing to chance at all.

A beep from her communicator caught her attention, proving to be far more interesting then what little intact paperwork she could find. "What is it?"

"I think I've found something." It was Reg's voice; turning around, she could see him out in the office, waving to her, in amongst an ocean of assorted packing crates.

Figuring that it was better then nothing, she walked over to where he was, curious as to what he may have found. For all his eccentricities, she'd seen that he had a keen eye for details, and often picked up on things others missed. This didn't stop him from reaching the wrong conclusions, of course. If capably directed, he was good.

"So, what do have you got, Fat Stig?" She asked as she kneeled down next to Reg.

"This crate is full of booster shots for Thuraya Purple Spotted Fever." He explained, pointing to the containers inside a wrecked box. "It's a disease that occurs only on Taygeta that is mostly harmless, but still debilitating if you have ever had one of a handful of other diseases. It's an interesting development; you could get bitten by a bug over in one side of the Inner Sphere and then be laid out by something you catch on the other side."

Sandra rubbed her chin. "Taygeta's the capitol of the Altair PDZ, right?"

"Yep. Just across the border in the Suns."

Sandra shook her head as she activated her communicator. "This is Black Stig. We have something that may be a lead?"

"Do tell." Levisha's voice was full of surprised curiosity.

"Well, I can't say for certain, but how's this? A pro-Taurian, Davion-hating, WoB-employed merc unit is stocking up on medicines that they might need if they visit a nearby PDZ capitol while carrying an enigmatic cargo. Sound like a lead to you?"

Sandra could imagine that Levisha was grinning one of her incredibly toothy grins right now. "Definitely. Gather everyone up; we may just be able to salvage this one after all."

Because, sometimes, despite all your clever planning, you miss the most obvious thing. Nice work, guys.

Dropship Miranda, Inbound

Taygeta System

Altair PDZ, Federated Suns

3 October 3072

One of the things that had taken Sandra by surprise was just how large the Mimetic Badarses were. Since she'd joined the unit, she figured she'd seen maybe a company of mechwarriors at various times, as well as other support personnel. What she hadn't realised was just how big its infantry forces were. Their mechs were there for hard targets, the Infantry were where the Mimetic Badarses' true strength lay.

It made sense when she thought about it. Many of their operations were centred around extraction, retrieval or elimination of specific targets and items. Such operations couldn't be performed by Battlemechs; instead, the group employed specifically trained, specialised infantry units to fulfil their various objectives. A mech could bust a wall open, but it wouldn't be any good to retrieve a priceless antique or kidnap a scientist.

The result was four dropships burning towards Taygeta as fast as they could. Three were Leopard-class mech carriers; the fourth was a Fury-class troop transport that was, by all indications, packed to the brim with assorted troopers. Sandra's biggest concern was that they'd need every last one of them.

Her second surprise had come when Levisha had asked her to do a force briefing to the assembled unit before they reached planetside. It made sense when explained; Sandra had hands-on experience with their expected opponents, and she could provide more depth of information then just a straightforward reading-off of the last known MRBC file could.

So now she was in the Miranda's situation room, with live feeds to all three other dropships. As near as she could tell, she was addressing the entirety of the Mimetic Badarses' combat personnel, as well as anyone else who was present.

"Well, I haven't done one of these before, so please forgive me if I frell it all up." She began, standing in front of a display. Aside from her, only Levisha, Reg, Jake and the members of Ascendance squad were physically present in the room, but it didn't seem to help. "So anyway, the bunch of tools we suspect we're after is a group known as Morgan's Black Hands. They're a mercenary unit, built from a core of former Taurian Officers who chose to leave the TDF after the coup of the week in the late fifties."

"Their leader, Michael Morgan, is an angry, angry man with a burning hate-on for all things FedSuns." She explained. "He and his buddies put together the Black Hands from the lower end of the Outreach crowd; he recruited from outside the MRBC, feeling that they were run by 'Davionist Puppets', quote unquote. The result was pretty much as you might expect; a collection of mass-murdering serial puppy kickers who don't care who's signing the paycheck."

Glancing over the crowd, she hit a button on the display control, bringing up a copy of Morgan's MRBC commander profile. It showed a heavyset, muscular man with a thick beard and more than a few scars. "This is the guy himself; he's a veteran of the TDF, but the MRBC found insufficient evidence of his claims to being a decorated hero and the like, which suggests that he's talking out his own date."

She shrugged. "Oh, and he's such an ego-trip that he named the unit after himself twice. The guy's left arm is mechanical; he had it chromed black for some ungodly reason. Thus, Morgan's Black Hands." Sandra waved her own left hand in the air as she switched back to their MRBC profile. "Stupid huh? Anyway, his officers are his flunkies; ones who were in the TAF with him before he left."

"I'm sure you can all figure where this is going. The guys fell into the employ of the Robes in '65 or '66, probably directly recruited rather than through intermediaries. The Wobbies set them loose to attack FedSuns targets, figuring that a bunch of Bulls full of hate and angry pills wouldn't need much encouragement to cut loose. They served as raiders for a while, but dropped off the radar in '70. Of course, with all the crap going on at the time, losing track of a small merc unit is no surprise."

"As per normal, the MRBC put a price on their head for being around the Word. This seems to be a justifiable case; Morgan and his crew of tools aren't the nicest of people and certainly aren't going to be discriminating about who or what they shoot at if asked to."

She changed the display to a force listing. "The core of the unit's strength is its mechs. The unit has about two companies on strength, down from a battalion. Overall they're a mixed bag; they started from a core of low-end, early 3050s designs. However, when I last ran across them, the Word had slipped them a few toys. I personally fought a Legacy during my battle with them. That's the sort of crap that can really ruin your day, so keep your eyes open. Just because one of them is piloting an old crapheap doesn't mean they all are."

"Backing them up is a full platoon of Battlearmour. These are mostly first-generation designs that have been pawned off or are otherwise readily available, like the Grey Death Scout or the Infiltrator. Finally, they have at least a company of infantry under their employ; we ran across some of them on Mithron. For some reason unknowable to all but a few pencil-pushers, the MRBC never documented these units."

"While their gear isn't the best in the world, they are lead by a bunch of mad cows and staffed by bottom-feeders, the Black Hands aren't slouches. They've got a lot of experience in urban combat; it's something of a specialty of theirs. So figure that the BAs and PBIs are going to be especially dangerous if we're fighting them in a city – which knowing my luck, we will."

She stopped for a moment, idly scratching the scars on her right cheek. "So, to summarise: Angry, Blakeist-sponsored, Davion-hating Taurian mercs on the rampage with a love of urban combat and, presumably, some enigmatic package that is a part of some long-term operation, code named 'Arasaka', that we have no frelling idea about. Sounds wonderful, doesn't it?"

Sandra couldn't help but notice that Levisha gave a small laugh at the last comment. You're enjoying this, aren't you? She thought to herself. Why'd you need me to do this anyway?

"Now for the really bad part. Looking at the raw numbers, they'll have a two-to-one advantage on us in a stand-up fight. We have a technological edge, yes, and I'm pretty sure we have better people, but that's still not as much as I'd like. Hopefully, we'll be able to get some sort of coordination going with the Tayageta militia; given that it's a PDZ capitol and has been recently fighting the Cappies, I'm figuring they're gonna have some degree of combat readiness."

The display changed back to the listing of officers. "Morgan's two officers, Bartmosse and Cunningham, aren't your normal, stand-up leaders. Both of them are experienced scouts with backgrounds in electronic warfare, who were promoted largely out of being Morgan's cronies. They're also known to run EW-heavy mechs both to coordinate their forces and disrupt the enemy. In an urban environment, you can imagine that's worth a lot."

"We can offset this, however, by taking them out. Between our crazy levels of specialty units and our equipment, I think we should have enough options. Bonus points if we can bag 'em both at once."

Sandra offered a brief shrug. "Beyond that, just the usual things apply. Kill the bad guy, try not to die. And try to secure whatever it was that some Robe was willing to set himself on fire over" She couldn't help but notice the shudder that latst comment got out of Elezha.

Levisha stood, walking over next to her. "Thanks for that, Sandra. Certainly it will help given the current situation."

"Current situation?" Sandra glared at her wearily, wondering what she wasn't letting on now.

"Just before we started, I got a report that the Black Hands landed on-world, apparently hiding their forces in commercial dropships running under assumed identities. They're in the capitol now."

"Well tool." Sandra shot back. "So what's the plan then?"

Levisha grinned confidently. "We take them out and secure their 'cargo', whatever it may be. We've been hired to do a job, people, and we will make sure that it gets done. Sandra's given us the tools to make it possible, now all we need to do is make it happen."

You could have told me this before I started, Sandra considered. What the hell are you up to now?

Thuraya City

Taygeta

Altair PDZ, Federated Suns

4 October 3072

OPERATION SIXTH WORLD

Upon hitting the ground, the Black Hands had apparently pushed straight out of the Drop-Port. They'd left behind only minimal security forces to protect the two Mammoths they'd used to deliver themselves, focusing instead on pushing against the Taygeta CMM into the heart of Thuraya City proper.

The Mimetic Badarses had taken advantage of the situation as best they could, by simply hot-dropping their mechs onto the port. The reserves the Black Hands had left behind had offered very little resistance, apparently not expecting an elite mech unit to drop on their heads. In minutes, the drop port – as well as the Black Hands' transports – had been secured.

They'd rested for as long as it took to get their dropships down, deploy their infantry forces and do some minor repair work, where the Black Hands were presently engaged with the local defence forces. By the early hours of the fourth, they were pushing into the city proper. Naturally, it was raining.

This was the first time Sandra had seen the entirety of the Mimetic Badarses forces' gathered in one place, and definitely the first time she'd seen them on the field in anything larger then her own lance. Apparently she wasn't the only one; it was rare for them to field this large a force for a single operation.

What was even more unusual was who was leading them. "Here's the situation." Levisha began, her modified Goshawk occupying the centre of the formation. "I've managed to get us into the CMM's command channels and I'm borrowing some of their data. The enemy have deployed pretty much as expected; their forces are advancing in a line through the city, covered by ECM from Morgan's two flunkies."

"Fortunately, I've taken steps to address that situation." She finished. Sandra could imagine the smug grin. "For now, we hold position and wait for our surprise packages to arrive."

Despite their somewhat secretive leader and members, Ascendance Team were still well-known within the ranks of the Mimetic Badarses. A lot of that came simply from their leader's reputation; everyone knew that she was a cyborg who went well beyond simple medical replacement limbs. Nobody knew just how augmented she was (not even Lynne Street James, although Lynn had a better idea than most), but a lot of people had plenty of wild theories.

However, this perspective on the team lead a lot of them to underestimate their capabilities. Elezha's use as an information warfare specialist lead many to assume that the Kage suits were merely a means to an end; a way to transport her to a target so that she could extract data from it. The suits stealth capabilities helped her infiltrate and bypass enemy formations, while their mobility made her a lot faster and more versatile then travelling on foot.

The truth, however, was a lot more. Few actually realised that the opposite was true; Ascendance Team were a trained commando/infiltration battle armour squad who's leader just also happened to be a cyborg who specialised in data theft.

Presently, the team were crouched on top of a building at the corner of an intersection, watching the streets below. Between the night sky, the heavy rain, the cover afforded by the buildings and the suits' own stealth capabilities, they were all but invisible; an opponent would need to walk right into them in order to spot them. They'd deployed well in advance of the rest of the Mimetic Badarses, sneaking through enemy lines based on information Levisha had provided them with to strike at a specific target.

All they had to do was wait.

The heavy footfalls of an approaching Battlemech was their first indication, the sound of massive metal feet on pavement obvious despite the distance and the rain. As one, the four members of the squad watched the street as a pair of mechs approached. The suit's built in systems cut through the darkness and the rain to give them a better look at the machines; both were dressed in urban camouflage, with the fist-on-shield insignia of Morgan's Black Hands clear on their shoulders.

A tall, gaunt Warhammer lead the pair, a machine that carried enough firepower to easily eliminate the entire squad – or rather, it could in a stand-up fight. They weren't going to let that happen. The second one was much smaller, with a blocky torso atop slender, bird-like legs. Elezha easily identified the machine as an Owens, the mech that they had been sent to hunt.

She noiselessly signalled to the squad with her suit's claw, gesturing towards the small scout mech. The team watched the machine as it approached, waiting until it was as close as it would come to the rooftop they were lurking on. A small burst from the suit's jets were enough to launch them into the air, the stub-wings on their backs doing the rest of the work to cover the distance as they sailed across the gap and landed on the Owens' back.

Landed, the squad had just seconds to act before their prey became aware of their presence and moved to get rid of them. Elezha took the lead, scampering towards the Mech's blocky head before stopping short of its end. Instead, she kneeled down, grabbing the top of the mech's hatch with her suit's claw. Using sheer brute force, she engaged the safety over-rides on the lock that were originally built to retrieve the Mechwarrior in an emergency.

The female pilot of the Owens looked up in surprise and shock as the hatch opened, letting the rain pour in for a moment before her suit blocked the hatch. The woman reached for her sidearm; Elezha was quicker, the Kage's arm-mounted assault rifle opening fire into the cockpit. Shots tore through the woman, shredding both her skimpy cooling vest and the body underneath it in a spray of blood and fluids.

With her death, the Owens was deprived of any control and was sent tottering forward. As one, the four suits again lifted off, sailing into the air before vanishing back over the lip of the rooftop that they had launched from. Behind them, the Warhammer opened fire, ineffectually firing shots after them, its mechwarrior doing little beyond chasing shadows. A resounding crash echoed across the street as the thirty-five ton mech hit the ground, punctuated by the crackle of the Warhammer's PPCs.

"Ascendance Lead to White Stig." Elezha spoke quietly into her communicator as her suits continued to move, leaving their fallen prey behind them. "Target one is down."

Three hundred meters over, a second Black Hand mech, a Firestarter, also stalked the rain-soaked streets. Originally designed for incendiary warfare and anti-infantry duties, the Firestarter had been upgraded into a capable, if not exceptional, EW platform, a role that this particular machine was currently serving.

In an environment such as this, the Firestarter would be acting as the hunter, using its capabilities to flush out enemy infantry and then deal with them. In urban warfare, it was a potent and feared machine for not only its abilities to kill unarmoured infantry en masse, but the damage that its flamers could do to a city. However, what the mechwarrior didn't know was that they were the prey, rather than the hunter they believed themselves to be.

Usually referred to only as "Norris Three", Vincent Arugal Jr. was one of the less-known members of the Mimetic Badarses. Much like Elezha Karoly, he preferred people not to notice him, both on and off the battlefield. His mech was the key reason why; a rare Werewolf, the machine was originally created for the Solaris arenas. However, its unique capabilities made it suited to certain, very specialised battlefield duties.

Equipped with a Null Signature System, the Werewolf was effectively undetectable by any means save for the naked eye. It was a system that Vincent used to its fullest in his designated role. He was a Headhunter, one who went after specific battlefield targets, such as commanding officers. His role was to slip in, strike the target and then escape undetected. It was a skill he prided himself on; oft times when employed, the first the enemy had known of his presence was when something exploded, and he had never once been caught making his getaway.

Despite its size and bulk, the forty-ton Werewolf managed to silently steal through the city, keeping itself well-hidden in amongst the clutter of the urban landscape. Vincent himself couldn't have asked for better conditions; the darkness and rain served to obscure vision and break up shapes, making his mech even harder to spot.

He'd been given the targeting information from White Stig that had led him to his target. He'd been patiently watching them, waiting for the opportune moment, watching the mech through his own machine's sensors. Unaware of what was going on, the Fireststarter wandered into the centre of his crosshairs.

Now. The Werewolf's weapons roared to life, unleashing their destructive fire on the enemy mech. The X-Pulse Laser struck home first emerald-green darts ripping through the mech's right leg, causing the machine to stumble. A half-dozen Streak SRMs followed up, impacts blossoming over the mech. A scream of tortured metal erupted as one tore into the already damaged limb, snapping metal bones and ripping into artificial muscles. The machine staggered and fell under the force of the blows, crashing to the street.

Good. Now to finish it. The Werewolf stepped out of cover, opening fire again as the Firestarter struggled to stand. The laser tore into the mech's chest, sending it staggering back, before the SRMs drove it into the ground. As it fell, the Firestarter attempted to respond, its two medium lasers striking out at its attacker. One of them stabbed into the Werewolf's flank, doing little more than melting armour.

Ignoring the damage, Vincent stepped forward, the Werewolf now looming over its fallen prey. Without the slightest hint of remorse, he raised one of its armoured feet, then drove it down on the mech's head, crushing the cockpit and the mechwarrior inside.

Almost instantly, there was a burst of weapons fire; a mercenary Rifleman had spotted him in his strike, and was seeking to avenge its fallen partner. His targeting going to be no good at this range, Vincent noted as autocannon rounds tore past his mech, shredding a storefront. No sense in letting him get a better shot.

Ignoring the enemy mech, he turned and ran, the Werewolf simply vanishing into the shadows from whence it had struck. "Norris Three to White Stig." He began, confident that the mech's sophisticated, shielded communications system would not betray his presence. "Target two is down."

"Understood." Levisha acknowledged as she received the near-simultaneous reports from her two advance agents. "All units, this is White Stig. Move in."

Never one to shy away from direct combat, Michael Morgan had been leading the Black Hands from the cockpit of his massive Victor. The mech, not his usual ride, had been picked out specifically for this one mission for a number of factors; its combination of size. Mobility and firepower made it a potent fighter in an urban environment, and, more importantly, its jump jets would be needed to complete the goals of the mission.

Even then, he'd allowed himself a few luxuries. While the mech sported the brown and grey urban camo pattern that was his unit's standard, its left arm had been painted a shiny, chrome-black finish. It was his personal signature, a lynchpin of his identity.

Everything had gone to plan. The information that the Word's agents had provided him with had been spot-on, perfect in every detail. The false flags that his ships had flown were easily accepted, allowing them to land at the spaceport without any opposition. By the time the local militia had figured out what was going on, it was too late; his troops had the spaceport and were headed for the city proper.

All he had to do was live up to his end of the deal, to deliver the cargo that the Word had entrusted to him. He had no problems with that. What he did here was, after all, not for his benefit, but for the benefit of the Taurian people. Today, in this city, he would strike a lethal blow to the Davionistas, one that would show them the true strength and will of the Concordat.

His mech's Gauss Rifle spat out another silvery metal slug, the round slamming into a Fedrat Rommel tank, ripping through the machine's squat turret and sundering its main gun. Smirking at the destruction, Morgan pushed his mech forward, knowing that without its cannon, the enemy tank was all but harmless. One less obstacle in my way. The Militia forces were doing their best, but it was clear that they were out-classed and caught off-guard. Unable to stop his advance, all they were doing now was buying time.

And then everything changed. Whereas moments before, the command circuit was quiet save for the disciplined flow of orders and reports, it suddenly exploded with frantic shouts of alarm, with panicked soldiers trying to shout over each other.

"Quiet!" He roared into the channel. "Cunnighame, Bartmoss, what's going on?" His officers were meant to be running EW support for the operation, making sure that there were no unexpected surprises, no unpleasant twists in the plan – ensuring that nothing like this would happen. "Where are you?"

"Bartmoss is down!" A voice called back. "Some mech come out of nowhere and ripped her up, then stomped on her mech's head when she was down! I lost track of him, I think he has a stealth system of some sort"

"I saw some BAs get Cunninghame!" Another shouted out. "They musta ambushed her, because the first I saw, her mech fell over as they were getting away! I can't see them in the darkness"

The reports hit him like a hammer blow. Rachel Bartmoss was one of his oldest friends, one of the original members of his unit from his days in the TDF. The pair of them had fought alongside each other for years and had always been there for each other, always looked out for one another, always been at the other's back.

But it was the second that hit him harder. Alice Cunninghame had been all that and more to him, so very much more. And now she was gone.

"There's more!" Somebody else called out. "I've got mechs and infantry coming in from our rear. They're all over us!"

His Victor rocked as a shot crashed into the back of its right leg, causing the huge mech to stumble. Wrestling with the controls, pushing them with all his will and determination, Morgan managed to keep the machine upright. Swinging around, he caught a glimpse of his attacker; a Huron Warrior, barely visible in the darkness, using the buildings for cover.

They were trapped. The damn Davions had lured his men in and surrounded them. They'd sought out and killed two of his officers, and were now taking advantage of the disruption to make their move. The bastards. If they weren't filthy Feddie scum, he'd almost give them some grudging respect. No, they're gunning for me specifically. I've been a thorn in their side for too long, and now they'll make my whole unit pay.

He returned fire, his own Gauss Rifle round shattering the façade of the building by the Huron Warrior's head into a hail of concrete. As the enemy mech fell back, he glanced at his own display. So close.

"Jonny! You there?"

"What do you want, boss?" Jonny Silver, the last of the old-timers and the commander of his Battlearmour Force replied.

Morgan paused a moment before continuing. He knew that right now Jonny would need to be dealing with his own loss, but at the same time, he knew that the man would be professional enough to accept it and to do his best to complete the mission. "Form up on me and keep any enemy infantry or other surprises off my back. We'll go straight for the objective; the package is already on-route. All we need to do is seal the deal."

"Understood." Silver acknowledged, a grim tone in his voice. "On our way."

We will finish this, Morgan pledged to himself as he fired his Victor's jets. The huge assault mech vaulted over a row of housing, landing with a concrete-cracking thud in a nearby courtyard, well out of the Huron Warrior's line of fire. None of you FedRat bastards will stop us from delivering the justice we've been denied all these centuries.

Some would call shooting an enemy in the back, especially one that was already engaged with another enemy, unfair, dishonourable or unsporting. Sandra personally called it a good idea, as long as she was the one doing the back-shooting.

Spud's Targeting Computer painted a very nice picture of the back of a Black Hand Warhammer ahead of her; the MechWarrior was apparently distracted and shooting at some other, unseen target. It didn't matter to her, instead providing her with a perfect opportunity. "Sorry, mate, but all's fair in love and war, especially with crazed Taurian tools."

Sandra opened fire, the Thor's large lasers carving into the enemy mech's back, slicing through the thin rear armour. A flight of long-range missiles capitalised on the damage they had done, tearing into the Warhammer's structure. The seventy-ton mech stumbled under the force of the blows, crashing face-first into the pavement as smoke poured out from its ragged rear armour.

As it struggled to rise, the mech was pummelled by a burst of autocannon and laser fire which further stripped armour from its side, pushing the Warhammer back to the ground. Moving at impressive speed for its bulk, Jake's Rampage all but shoved past Sandra's mech, bearing down on the wounded Warhammer, a flight of SRMs leaping from its shoulder as it closed in. More explosions rocked the mech, all but pinning it to the ground.

"Outa my way!" Jake shouted out as he pushed forward, using his machine's speed to its fullest. The Rampage swung at the Warhammer with a metal-shod foot, the kick slamming into the smaller mech's side. The force of the blow tore through the mech's flank, crushing armour and structure in a shower of metal fragments.

An alarm gave Sandra a moments warning to brace herself as a flight of missiles slammed into the Thor's shoulders. Seconds later, another flight struck the Rampage, peppering its armour. "The hell?" Jake shouted, his mech turning to look for the unseen attackers.

"Indirect fire LRMs." Sandra shot back as she switched over to the command channel. "This is Black Stig. There will be infantry hiding in the buildings spotting for them, or maybe some of those damn Infiltrator tools. I'll find their launchers; somebody else deal with the damn grunts."

Spotting the ATVs of the Theodalite Men coming towards them, Sandra figured that the spotters were going to have other things to do. Activating the jump jets, she sent the Thor vaulting over a row of buildings, heading in the approximate direction that she figured the missiles had come from.

There. In a courtyard were a Grim Reaper and a Valkyrie, both of them likely candidates as the attackers. "All right, you tools! Outta there!" She shouted as she opened fire, her Thor's arms spiting a quartet of lasers at the larger of the two mechs. Only two of the lasers hit home, slicing armour off the Reaper's chest. As the Thor landed, its drum-like launcher spat missiles at her target, explosions wreathing the Reaper's pod-like torso. "And my missiles work at this range. Yours don't"

The reactions of the two Black Hands were as she expected. Confronted with a heavier mech that was boasting superior technology, the Valkyrie opted to use its jump jets to escape, boosting away and out of her line of vision. Lacking jets, the Reaper had to turn and run, spraying laser fire at the Thor as it did. A burst of energy melted armour off her mech's thigh, leaving it largely unscathed.

"So just give it up already, you tool!" She shouted as she opened fire again, the enemy mech neatly framed between two buildings. "Because whatever you tools are up to can't be worth all this."

"The package has arrived"

The short message was all that Morgan needed. It meant that all that they had been through had been worth it; that victory was within their grasp. "Understood." He replied over the command channel. "Let me know when the package is ready."

Twisting his Victor's torso as it ran, he fired off another shot from his Gauss Rifle at the damnable Huron Warrior that had been harassing him. This time the effect was dramatic; the shot slammed into the mech's torso, crushing armour plate and structure before ripping through its rear, sending one of its arms flying away. The force of the blow span the mech around, sending it crashing to the street.

He couldn't help but smile at this reversal of fortune. It seemed that, at last, things were turning around.

"We're taking fire!" A frantic voice called out across his command channel, one he didn't immediately recognise. "There's enemy jump troops up here! They're threatening the package!"

"What?" Yanking the controls, he spun the Victor around.Ahead of him loomed the Taygeta planetary capitol, a monolithic glass and concrete structure that resembled nothing as much as a stepped pyramid. He knew that the package would be on the roof of the structure; however, that roof was now lit up with the flash of laser fire. Zooming his display in, he could just make out a group of small figures hovering around the roof.

His mouth went dry as fear and then anger welled up within him. He had sacrificed so much and come so close, and yet, was about to lose it all. That something as trivial as an enemy infantry team could be the cause of all that being lost infuriated him. Ignoring all else, he barrelled forwards, opening fire on the enemy infantry as he did. Lasers and missiles flew at them, striking the small figures and swatting several from the sky.

"Jonny! The enemy force has threatened the package!" He called over the command channel.

"Understood." Silver shot back, his voice clam despite all that was going on. "I'll get up there and-"

"I'm going to activate it myself!" He all but yelled, cutting his subordinate off. "Just cover me."

"But-"

"Nobody else has to die, Jonny." He snarled. "I'll finish this myself."

"Black Stig, we have a situation."

Sandra couldn't help but feel apprehensive at the tone in Levisha's voice. She was quiet, serious and straightforward, without a hint of smugness or self-assured superiority. If she wasn't gloating over how much better she was, then something had to be wrong. "What is it, White Stig?"

"Annihilator Team has spotted the package at the planetary capitol, on the roof." She continued. Sandra knew that Annihilator Team was the codename for the Badarses' elite, airmobile infantry team, yet another group she had heard of but never encountered. Today was a day full of surprises. "They've come under fire from an enemy Battlemech and cannot secure it."

"And you need me to fix the problem." Sandra finished with a degree of wariness. Her Thor was standing over the fallen Grim Reaper, Bob's Fireball lurking nearby. The smaller mech had helped chase down the fleeing Valkyrie, stopping it and the Reaper from teaming up on her.

"Yes." Levisha finished. "We have no assets aside from Annihilator Teram in the area. Norris One was present, but his transponder is no longer responding."

Meaning his mech's disabled or he's dead.

"Take whatever resources you need, but we have to secure the package."

"Understood. Bob, Theodolite Man, you're with me." She couldn't remember Bob's callsign for the moment. Everybody seemed to just call him Bob anyway.

She turned the Thor towards the capitol, jetting out of the courtyard she'd cornered the Reaper in. The massive mech landed with a crunch of cracking pavement on one of the rain-soaked streets, breaking into a run as soon as it was down. A squad of ATVs emerged from cover, swarming around the mech's feet like a school of fish seeking protection from predators. Behind her, the Fireball darted in and out of buildings, its Mechwarrior moving the machine at high speed but at the same time keeping it under complete control.

As they approached the capitol, it became clear that they were on the right track. Damaged buildings lined either side of the street, while the hulks of wrecked tanks lay scattered about. A gutted Huron Warrior lay across the street, presumably the fallen Norris One. A warning from Sandra's sensors advised of two more mechs, both active, ahead.

The smaller of the two, the same Valkyrie as she had faced before, sent a flight of LRMs toward her mech. As the missiles flew past her and scattered across a nearby building, she saw the larger machine make its move. Firing its jump jets, the second mech vaulted up the side of the capitol building, landing one one of the tiers.

"He's going after the frellign package!" Sandra called out. "Bob, you and Theodolite man deal with the Valk. I'll get – oh for flops sake!" A squad of light Battle Armour leaped off the roof of a nearby building, vaulting toweards her mech. Swatting at them with her mech's stubby weapons arms sent one flying away, but the others seemed to have found their purchase.

"Black Stig, should-" Bob began, only to be cut off.

"Just get the frelling Valk!" She snapped. "Theodolite Man, I'm going to try and get these tools. You be redy to pick up my trash."

"Roger that" he commented as she pushed the Thor forward, leaping off with a burst of the jump jets. The seventy-ton mech sailed across the courtyard wall, landing in front of the capitol building with a bone-jarring thud that saw the mech stumble. However, the impact had its desired effect, shaking the remaining Battle Armoured troopers loose from her mech.

As the suits – Grey Death Scouts, from the looks of them – tried to regain their footage, the Theodolite Men burst into the courtyard, opening fire with their ATV-mounted weapons. Automatic gunfire cut down one of the troopers before he could respond, sending the scout armour sprawling. The other two were luckier, returning fire with their own weapons and cutting into the infantry.

"Frell that" Sandra muttered as she bought the Thor up and spun its torso around. Dropping her sights onto one of the remaining armoured soldiers, she opened fire on it as it ran. The large laser simply ceased to exist, the laser blast tearing through the suit and gouging into the ground behind where it had been.

"Go!" Someone, presumably Theodolite Man himself, called over the radio, the sound of automatic gunfire behind his voice. "We'll clean up here!"

Sandra gave a quiet nod, turning back to the looming government building. Barging forward, she again activated the jump jets, soaring up the side of the huge building. Several staged leaps bought her to the roof, where a pair of things became evident. The first and most obvious was the huge Victor in front of her; the mech sported the same camouflage as the other attackers, but this one stood out for the shiny black paint on its left arm. Michael Morgan.

The second was the opened silver case in front of her, identical to the one in the warehouse on Mithron. It even had a ring of dead bodies around it, making the similarity even more stark. However, what was inside this one was no rusted engine. Instead, it was a metal cylander, topped with a small control panel with a blank digital readout, several buttons and a key lock.

A frelling nuke. So that's what Arasaka was all about.

"You killed them all!"

Rain streamed down the canopy of Sandra Blackmore's Thor, a part of the downpour that drenched it, the rooftop it was standing on and the city around it. Inside the machine, Sandra stared through the torrent, her single eye fixed on the other mech in front of her.

"Johnny, Rach... Alice. You killed every last one of them. This has gone on way to long. I can't let it happen anymore. I'm going to make you bastards pay for every last life you've taken!"

The massive Victor stood just as impassive as her own mech, its blank faceplate betraying no hint of its pilot's emotion. Their weapons were levelled at each other; like gunslingers facing off.

"No matter what, this all ends here."

I'm up here with a desperate, angry man who has a frelling nuke in the middle of a city full of people he hates for simply being themselves. Yeah, this is a really wonderful day for me and the sun's not even up. She warily eyed the case. So why hasn't he just blown it already? He's got nothing to lose, and he's certainly not going to have any second thoughts.

Unless… she eyed the dead bodies on the roof. Unless it's not armed.

A plan began to form, one that was either going to work perfectly or get everybody killed.

Frell it. She pushed the Thor's throttle open, the huge mech thundering forward. "Stop!" Morgan called out. "Don't move or-"

Her mech swung its massive metal foot down, slamming into the metal case. I hope I'm right. I really frelling well do. The box crumpled under the blow, then was hurled forwards, its momentum sending it flying into the Victor's chest where it shattered in a hail of components – but did not explode.

"What are you-"

"Shut the frel up!" Sandra cut him off as her mech pushed forward, its shoulder driving into the Victor's torso, sending the heavier mech tottering backwards with the force of the blow. Momentum did the rest, with concrete crumbling as the assault mech toppled off the side of the building, crashing into the top of a smaller office building with a bone-shaking thud of shattering concrete and glass.

"Yes, they died!" She shouted out as she opened fire on the downed Victor, lasers tearing into the mech's structure. "That's what happens in war; people die!" Despite the damage, the assault mech managed to stagger to its feet, firing its weapons as it did. A shot from the Gauss Rifle tore into the Thor's flank, ripping armour apart, but not seeming to deter the MechWarrior inside.

Instead, Sandra continued her verbal assault alongside her mech's weapons. "Don't you dare blame me for their deaths; it was your stupid, stupid idea that got them there!" Shots ripped through what was left of its armour, driving the mech back. "You were the one who decided to take the damn robes up on their offer! You were the one willing to nuke innocents for your own damn vendetta!"

A shot sliced through the Victor's right arm, striking the Gauss Rifle inside it. The weapon discharged and exploded, ripping the mech's entire right side apart in a storm of flames and debris. Left off-balance by the destruction, the mech tottered, then stumbled off the side of the building, plunging a second time to the streets below. Crashing to the ground, it landed face-first.

Sandra warily eyed the downed machine for any signs of movement, anything aggressive move. Instead, there was nothing but the sound of rain bouncing off her canopy.

She sighed. "Black Stig to White Stig. Enemy is neutralised; the package has been dismantled."

"Roger that, Black Stig." Levisha replied. "We're mopping up the last of them here along with the militia."

She quickly checked her communicator, making sure that she was on a closed channel, one that was not feeding to the rest of the unit. "So why me?" Sandra asked with a certain wariness in her voice. "You sent me out alone to deal with their boss and his bomb. And don't give me any crap about my being the first on-site, you lying toolbag."

Levisha gave a small laugh. "In truth?" her voice had a surprisingly straightforward tone, lacking its usual smugness and superiority. "Because I knew that you were the one person I could rely on to take charge in a situation like that, to pull out something unexpected and put a stop to Arasaka."

"Even over yourself?"

"Yes." Levisha stated, a manner-of-fact tone in her voice. "Not everyone can stare a nuke in the face and accept it. Only you would think to kick it off the roof."

"Point." She conceded. "And that other crap? Why throw me the briefing?"

"Because I may not be around forever." Levisha admitted. "And one day, we may need a leader who is willing to make the hard calls, stare death in the face and do what they can to salvage an unwinnable situation. I put my faith in you. Black Stig, to be that person"

Sandra nodded quietly as she looked down at the wreckage of the Victor. She realised that Levisha had just been more honest and forthright in the last minute then she had in the years Sandra had known her thus far. But, for some reason, she just didn't feel like celebrating.

Perfectly Ordinary Derelict Factory

Galatea

Skye Province, Lyran Alliance

6 October 3072

As the chief of security for the Mimetic Badarses' headquarters on Galatea, Joshua Talltrees had a very, very demanding job with a lot of responsibilities. It was his task to make sure that the facility remained secure and a secret, to make sure that those coming and doing were not carrying anything more than they should. With such an eclectic collection of personnel as the group boasted, it was not an easy task at the best of times.

Now he was faced with a new threat, one that he had hoped that he would never have to face. An invasion force had landed on Galatea, apparently composed of troops from the Word of Blake and, more specifically, one of their so-called Shadow Divisions. Supported by hired mercenaries, sympathisers and those who had decided to side with them out of desperation, the Word's troops were in the process of over-running Galataport.

As bad as that was, one development had made it even worse. He looked over the controls in his office, from which he could run their security systems, fully aware that all the options he had would not be enough by any means.

"You wanted to see me, boss?" His second, Don Esposito asked as he entered Joshua's office. A former mechwarrior in the Mimetic Badarses, Esposito had been badly injured in the line of duty. Not only had he lost an arm, but the damage done to his inner ear meant that he was no longer capable of piloting a Battlemech. Rather than retiring, He had volunteered to work security at their base instead.

"Yeah. Just had a development in the battle."

"Bad?"

"You could say that." Joshua commented dryly. "A group of Word mechs and APCs have been spotted heading this way. There's precious little in this district they'd be after, save for one thing - us."

Don raised a brow. "So they know we're here. Figures that they'd send someone after us sooner or later."

"And with the entire unit away, there's not much here to stop them." Joshua shook his head. "Especially if their force contains those cyborg soldiers of theirs. I think we should consider this to be a worst-case scenario"

He nodded grimly. "So what do you want me to do?"

Joshua shook his head. "Get our men ready. Ensure that all our entrances are locked down and barricaded and that we have guards at all of them. Watch out for any security breaches or failures."

"And you?"

"I'm going to start destroying data. Files, records, everything on the computers, all of that. We can't let the Word get that information, and we're not likely to be able to hold against whatever's coming."

"Good plan. But I'm afraid that I can't let you do that."

"What?" Joshua looked up, only to be caught by surprise by the blade extending from Don's mechanical arm. Before he could react, Don had thrust forward, ramming the blade straight through him. He died with a surprised gasp, his blood slick on the blade as it was withdrawn.

Pushing Joshua's body aside, Don looked over the master security console. Taking it all in, he began to activate procedures. Doors were unlocked. Alarms were deactivated. Security cameras were holding on screens showing no activity at all. For all intents and purposes, the facility was open and defenceless, those within it having no idea of what was coming.

Pressing a small button concealed within his cybernetic earpiece, Don activated a hidden internal communicator. "This is agent Smasher. Security systems have been disabled. Target is open."

"Acknowledged." The commander of the Word's attack force replied as his Archangel Omnimech drove north. "We are on our way now to take possession of the facility. Out"

He closed the channel, focusing instead on monitoring his taskforce. While the two mixed Level IIs had not yet met any opposition, he was not prepared to take any chances. A tall man, he barely fit into his Celestial's cramped cockpit. His features were stern and lined, his face worn with both age and battle scars. Most dramatically, his right eye had been replaced with a single artificial lens that shone an ominous red.

"All units. The target is open. Proceed with Operation Stormfront"

This was a big moment for him, one long in the planning. It had taken a lot to get a man into their headquarters to ensure the capture. Finding a suitable target and then both training and modifying an agent to replace them had been a lengthy process, although one helped by Don Esposito already having a bionic limb, making concealing the work easier. Even then, a single mistake could have seen all that lost.

It had taken more still to ensure that the unit itself was away from their headquarters. Operation Arasaka was considered abandoned when it had been discovered in 3068. He had reactivated it specifically to flush them out of hiding. It had meant burning off Morgan's Black Hands, but it was a justifiable price; the unit was near-worthless to him, and expending it was no great loss considering what would be gained. Planting evidence to ensure the unit's destruction had been a part of that plan; if the Black Hands had succeeded with what they thought was their goal, it would merely be a bonus.

His only regret was that one of them would not be there when he took the facility. That particular member of the group held a lot of interest for him, and his last effort to seize her had failed. But there would be other chances; for now, he had a more important target to deal with.

His Archangel charged forwards, other Celestials with it while infantry transports followed them up. Ahead was a perfectly ordinary derelict factory, one seemingly like any other in this part of Galataport.

The fighting was over quickly. The security force had been expecting their defences to be up, their base locked down. When they had been confronted by Word of Blake infantry walking in through unlocked doors with unrestricted access, they had been thrown into confusion. That the attackers were cyborg super-soldiers only made it worse; those that had not succumbed to the initial surprise attack were quickly mown down.

As a result, result was the base had been taken almost completely intact. While its personnel were all dead – a necessary precaution – everything else was left untouched. All their information had been taken with it; their records of past operations, their employers and their full history, along with all their assets and personnel files. All of that information was now open to the Word of Blake; even now, their analysts were pouring over the information available to them.

While the fighting for Galatea was ongoing, the unit assigned specifically to this operation had achieved its goal. For their commander, it was a moment of victory, one that he intended to saviour to its fullest. As soon as he knew that all was secure, he had dismounted from his Archangel Celestial in order to inspect his prize.

In the company of Smasher (Now dressed in a Word of Blake field uniform, but he would be wearing Espositio's face for some time), he had taken the time to tour their conquest, taking in all that he had found. They'd started with the operations centre, of course, as it was now the hub of the Word's data-retrieval operation. Even there alone, he had learned so much about the unit he had been hunting, just from observation.

However, he was not interested in that alone. He had moved on to their personal quarters, taking in what he could. While many of them had been near-empty, their owners having apparently very few worldly goods to their names, the few that had been more decorated had caught his interest. One of them in particular he found fascinating.

The owner of the room had cluttered it with all manner of documents culled from various sources, with seemingly random passages and even single words highlighted. Added to this was a litany of reference books of varying sizes and formats, as well as any number of over-stuffed files with papers hanging loosely out of them. Finally, he had numerous boards on his wall as some form of diagram, interconnecting unrelated groups and individuals.

It had been amusing in simply how wrong it all was; the owner of this room had found a lot of evidence, yet had no way to connect it.

From there he had studied their open areas, the places where his enemy had spent their time and relaxed. This had bought him before another photo-board, one that was different in theme. This showed him what he had wanted to see, the history of this group in its fullest. True, they could recover the words and figures from the files, but this board represented its living history, the story of the men and women who had made it all happen. A history that he was now going to bring to an end.

A particular photo caught his eyes; both his original one and his true eye. Reaching out, he took it from the board, studying the people it depicted. One face stood out from the crowd; a woman with sharp features and hazel eyes, her black hair streaked with bright green.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Agent Smasher spoke up. He didn't reply, instead continuing to study the photo. "Sir?"

The Manei Domeni commander looked up, turning to his subordinate. "What is it?" His voice had no anger or impatience, rather genuine curiosity.

"I'm sorry, Percentor Ogel. I just wondered... is it what you expected after all this time and effort?"

"Definitely." He replied, looking back at the photo. "I couldn't have asked for more."