Author's note: I'm not very up on the BattleTech universe, as I only have
MechWarrior3, so please try to point out any glaring plot errors in case I
write another. This is set during MechWarrior3. MechWarrior belongs to
MicroProse and a buch of other people.
"Watch you tail, strike leader. Two Shadow Cats incoming, fast."
"Gotcha, Beta 2. We're on them." Lt. Tom Katari said as he
signaled his wingmen and swung his Bushwacker to face the oncoming 'mechs.
"Want me to get them, boss?" Dela Harin asked as the Shadow Cats came
charging over a nearby ridge.
"No, there isn't that many of them. Let's BLITZ!" The last word was
transmitted to his entire task force. His Bushwacker, Harin's Champion,and
their friend Art Key's Orion charged, launcing all the rockets
they could.
The Sahadow Cats were caught flat-footed. one of them launced an Alpha
Strike at Keys' Orion seconds seconds before the right leg of his 'mech was
blown into shrapnel. His mech keeled over, permenantly out of order.
The other one was cannier. Forgoing weapons, the pilot slammed on his
jump jets. His 'mech luched violently as it lifted off, but it worked. All but
two of the missles streaked under him.
"He's just prolonging the inevitable...damn, those things can fly"
Art's voice came over the comm. The Shadow Cat landed about fifty meters
behind them, already twisting it's torso to get a clean shot. As the three
'mechs spun to plug it, it lashed out with everything it had. Before they
could even get a shot in edgewise, one of Tom's Bushwacker's arms was off.
"You asked for it, bitch. EAT ROCKETS!" Harin screamed over the comm
as her SRMs cut loose. The missles caught the Shadow Cat full in the "face".
It didn't explode, or even fully penetrate, the armor, but it overloaded the
'Cat's gyros, knocking it over. Before it could regain it's feet, the three
'mechs had blown it's legs off.
"Hello, Tom," Harin's voice broke into his musings as he sat
in a restaurant. It was two months later on the frontier world of Ursa-4. The
Smoke Jaguars had been retreating lately, so personell who had run the
requisite number of missions could take a break, but could still be called up
if needed. "Long time, no see."
"Not so long," she said, sitting down next to him "about eight
standard weeks. How long is that here?"
"Damned if I know." Tom replied as he pushed the button on the table,
summoning the waiter. "The days here don't seem to have any constant length."
She leaned over and sniffed his drink. "They wouldn't seem to, no.
What is that, anyway? Disinfectant?"
"God only knows. It's crap, but it's the only stuff I can buy, and it
can get you blind P.D.Q."
She put on a mock-hurt expression and pouted. "Well, I wouldn't know.
I only just got here, Mister Early-Requisite-Filler."
"Howzabout Mister-Takes-Every-Volunteer-Mission-That-He-Can or
Mister-Dosn't-Go-With-Mercenary-Companies. One of my friends did that, he
joined Wolf's Dragoons. The plusses? Pay is good, and you can get your hands
on the best technology that money can buy. The minuses? Pay is unreliable, and
you have to take break where, and when, you can. Also, you have to live on the
edge. Hot-dogging aside, your first line of defense is often you last. You
snooze, you loose it ALL. Give me the Draconis Combine Mech Corps, even though
we are on the edge of Smoke Jaguar territory."
"So how is your friend?"
"His girlfriend collected on his life insurance a year ago."
"Oh. Sorry to hear that." She paused and pursed her lips "say, you
don't sound very drunk. I remember that when you got smashed at that place a
year ago, you would always s-"
"HEY, not so loud. Luckily, they don't have a Karaoke machine here.
Besides, this is my first one."
Ten minutes and a drink apiece later, their talk returned to the raid
on the Jaguars two months ago.
"Hey, come t' think of it, where IS Art? He had more missions than I
did when we did that, and he dosn't slack off. What happened?"
Her expression darkened. "He was patrolling in that Firefly that he
uses for scouting, you know the one I mean...with the..all right. His radar
was damaged, because he and a Strider were involved in a tangle with an Owens
that the Clanners had captured. Well, he rounded one of those mesas that are
all over the place and found himself face-to-face with a Daishi. He never had
a chance...but for whatever it's worth, his sudden cut-off clued the base in
that there was something out there. They sent out three Sunders and ripped the
damn thing apart. I heard that the Daishi pilot died of asphyxiation when his
internal wiring burned. A slow, painful death."
Tom had retained his composure throughout, but grinned painfully as he
heard of the Daishi pilot's death. Then he slammed his fist down on the table,
causing the cups to rattle. "God damn. GOD DAMN! CHRIST! Those mother...I
don't get worked up normally, but this takes the cake. A Daishi. A FUCKING
"GREAT DEATH" PICKING ON A FIREFLY! Of all the chickens-" He was cut off by a
beeping from both of their mobile comms. "I swear, if this is a
telemarketer...I got a call from this guy... do you want to know what he was
selling?"
"Just answer it...no don't. I got it." Dela cut in, grabbing her own
comm. She checked it. All it displayed was the name and serial number of the
local commanding officer and the words "REPORT TO BATTLEMECH SHED RED ALERT".
She looked up at Tom apprehensivly.
"All right, men, this is what we know. The last transmission that
Outpost Theta-4 sent us indicated that the Smoke Jaguars had taken Xymelshia
by a storm. They caught them completly unprepared and beat the shit out of
them. Intercepted Jaguar transmissions say that they know that there are pilots
on hiatus here, and they want to kill or capture as many of you as possable."
"Sir," one of the pilots behind Tom began "what are we going to do?
Evac?"
"No, they have the planet surrounded. If you want to take
your chances with a ship, you're welcome to, but the Vegas odds aren't good.
We're going to have to do an Alamo right here. We're out of options,
and we have 'mechs. That's all we can do, at this point. Remember, the Inner
Sphere expects each of you to his duty. Let's MOVE!"
Tom and Dela found each other in the scramble for 'mechs and
equipment.
"OK, who's sorry they enlisted?" Tom yelled as he climbed into a
captured Blackhawk and ran a staus check. Primary configuration. Good, but
nothing special.
"Me." Dela's voice came over the comm. "I wish I had never..aw fuck,
what good will this do now? What matters is that we're going to ...going
to...DIE!" Her voice broke for a second, but she regained her composure
quickly. "Oh well...at least we'll meet on the other side, if there is one."
"Am I the only one suddenly feeling very religous?"
The attack started at about 4 AM, standard time. It was kicked off by
a wave of LRM 20's from the oncoming Vultures. These were absorbed by the
assault 'mechs out in front. The defenders then returned a mix-n-match wave of
firepower, blasting two of the advancing mechs into slag and damaging several
others.
The next half an hour was a series of devastating advances and
retreats. The Clanners were obviously intent on destroying the base and the
personell in them, but not at the cost of their own skins. So they kept on
advancing and firing on the base and 'mech defenders and retreating when the
situation heated up too much. Oddly enough, they probably lost more 'mechs
that way than they would have if they had just rushed, as the short breaks
gave the defenders time to repair and re-arm.
Then the line broke. It happened when four Jaguar heavy 'mechs.
blitzed a point in the line full of somewhat damaged 'mechs. The Inner Sphere
pilots had seen them coming, but had let them get close so they could use
their weapons to their best effect.
The trap should have worked, too. All of the attackers were caught
flat-footed and three were cut to pieces within seconds. The only one that
even managed to get among its opponents was a Supernova, which was by that
point badly damaged. The pilot, instead of trying to escape, drew a bead on an
Annihilator's leg and used its Alpha Strike, causing his 'mech to live up to
it's name. The machine exploded violently, destroying three defending 'mechs
and knocking limbs and armor off of others. Sensing blood, the Smoke Jaguars
charged.
The next two hours was a whirling hell for all of those involved. The
carefully-regulated lines of 'mechs dissolved into a series of one-on-one
battles. Tom lost track of Dela in the first ten minutes of the battle, then
he became entangled with a Puma. After that, it was simply a chain of
opponents, killing some, wounding others, and running for his life from more.
His most prized kill was a Supernova, which he deactivated with an Alpha
Strike to its wounded leg.
His rampage was largely ended by said Supernova. He knocked it's leg
out, but it manged to pummle his cockpit into the extreme red. He didn't have
radar, internal climate control, throttle control, or any control over his
'mech's right arm. Backing away from the battle, he haeaded for the
yet-untouched 'mech barn in search of a replacement. His Blackhawk was dying.
As he rounded the burning wreckage of an Avatar, he saw two hunched shapes in
front of him, illuminated by burning fuel: two Cauldron-Born. The body of his
'mech shattered under a hail of SRMs.
He could comprehend every moment of the fall. There was a screech of
alarms and electronics, then an eeire silence as power died. The 'mech keeled
over, flames rushing up its back and burning everything they could.
*I'd better get out, before I get fucking incinerated. Those goddamn
Cauldron-Born are probably looking for more damaged 'mechs to backstab, the
chickenshits.*
He climbed out and popped the mecifully still working emergency hatch
in the `head'. As he scrambled out, he looked around at the burning base. The
battle was basically over, and the Smoke Jaguars were victorious. He heard a
humming noise about a fifty meters away. He looked to see the two Cauldron-Born
facing him. Then his body was illuminated by the blinding red light of a TAG
laser.
*Good thing TAGs are low-intensity, or I'd have been scorched to a
crisp. But I suppose that all he has to do now is squeeze the trigger. Nice
knowing you, mom.*
Inside the cockpit of one of the Cauldron-Born, Master Sergeant Menaz
Keld watched as the Inner Sphere Balckhawk crumpled in destruction. It was an
unsatifactory kill, really, almost not worth his time. His honor demanded that
he destroy foes hat were truly his equal, which he had done several times in
this battle. Then he saw his lancemate's TAG go on, illuminating the figure of
a man.
"Hey, Alan, what's up?" He asked over the comm.
Alan Czeny's voice crackled back: "Gonna toast this little strabach
with my lasers. I love it when they turn into red mist! I mean, have you ever-"
"Hold it! Something just occured to me," Menaz cut him off "do you
remember our orders for this raid?"
"Vaguely. Why?"
"OK, don't shoot while I puch them up." Menaz's fingers flew over his
computer controls, bringing up an electronic copy of their orders. "Hah! I was
right!"
"Wassup?"
"Enemy 'mech pilots are worth a bonus if you capture them. Check it
out. Value proportional to information provided...then it's just legalese."
"That's bull! Who says this strabach knows anything, anyway?"
"At least he could help our intel people to dissect the inner workings
of the 'mech computers, you know, encryption and shit."
In the meantime, Tom had produced his sidearm and had started shooting
at Czeny's 'mech.
"Look," Czeny exclaimed "Now the asshole's shooting at me! I'm
gonna..."
"Drop the ball on that bonus."
"This is the biggest indignity of my LIFE. Letting an enemy just shoot
at me when I can fire back, but don't? I'm never gonna live this down. Listen,
if this bonus thing dosn't pan out...I'm gonna meet you in a Circle of Equals.
Then we'll see who was right." Even over the comm, Menaz could tell that Czeny
wasn't joking.
"All right, I hear you. OK, I've been counting. He's out of ammo."
"Cover me. I'll get him."
Tom had decided to inflict whatever damage he copuld on the Clanners
before they killed him. Knowing full well that it was a futile gesture,
barring a one-in-a-trillion shot, he pulled his sidearm and started firing at
the unmoving Cauldron-Born. When he was out of ammunition, he just stood
there. Gritting his teeth, he waited for the end to come.
But the next sound he heard wasn't the end. It was two thumps, the
first one being a hatch being thrown open, the second one being the pilot of
the 'mech he had been shooting at landing on the ground.
"All right, strabach, I know you're gun's empty, so drop it." Tom
obeyed, for lack of any options. "Now reach into you boot...it's the left one,
I think...and take out the knife that you have in there. Use your middle and
index fingers. Now toss it over here." Tom did so, but threw it a lot harder
and more accuratly than his prospective captor had been intending. The knife
flew straight for Czeny's chest, but the Clanner twisted, causing the knife to
stick in his armored shoulder plate. As he yanked it out, Tom was gratified to
see that the tip had blood on it.
Czeny's eyes crossed with rage, but he stopped himself from pulling
the trigger. *Think bonus...think honor...think of this asshole in a torture
chamber with some class-A interrogators...*. Out loud he said:
"Nice one, strabach, pity it didn't work. Now that you're disarmed, you know
the capture drill...turn around, put your hands on the wreckage of your
'mech." As Tom did so, Czeny pulled something off his belt that someone in the
armory issued: organic-bonding handcuffs. They were standard handcuffs, a
high-density titanium alloy, but the best part was on the inde of the
inch-wide wrist bands. It was a sort of slimy fungus that bonded to human skin
and could only be removed by a certain chemical "key". If you simply killed
the fungus, it would remain bonded to the prisoner's wrists and rot, opening
him up to an almost guarenteed case of gangrene.
Tom was taking orders from the homocidal Clanner because there wasn't
anything else he could do. The he heard the sound ouf a knife being pulled.
*The Clanners don't seem to want to kill me. I wonder...* is thoughts gave way
tohis voice "Hey, since when is a knife in the capture drill?" "Put your
hands behind you or find out." Czeny snarled in reply. When Tom did so, Czeny
fastened the handcuffs on him and took his dog tags. "Lessee.. Lt. Tom
Katari...serial number blah blah woof woof." grabbing his comm unit, he spoke
to Menaz. "Hey, you were right. We bagged ourselves a lieutanant here. How much
do you think that's worth?"
"In and of itelf?" Keld replied "Nothing. But he'll probably know
something that Intel will want to know, too. Let's sent this up to the Sear
and see what they make of it."
"OK, I'll take care of business here." Czeny said, and stuck his comm
back onto his belt. Then he picked up his knife and drove it into Tom's right
calf. Not content with that, he jammed the knife deep as he could until it
hit something tougher than the normal tissue. He didn't know if it was bone,
tendon, or what, but he knew that it had done it's work.
Tom yelled himself hoarse as his mind seemed to explode with pain. He
knew that the psychopathic Clanner had stabbed him, but that fact paled next
to the red haze descending on his mind and the copious amounts of blood he
could feel running out of his leg. Then Czeny gave the knife another twist,
and Tom blacked out.
"Hey," Czeny spun reflexivly as he heard the voice behind him, only to
see Manaz "have you got him under control...what the fuck did you DO?" he had
just seen Katari passed out behind Czeny in a pool of his own blood.
"Oh, that?" Czeny was obviously unfazed by what he had just done.
"Just making sure he couldn't run away...also restoring a bit of my pride. The
little shit had the nerve to toss his knife at me; figured that he might try
to pull a fast fade, so I crippled him. I don't think I any irreversable
damage...and even if I did, what's the big deal? It's just a strabach."
"OK, it's your honor. Although I don't know wether that was really
smart or really dumb, given the news."
"News? Good or bad?"
"Bad." Menaz looked pissed. "You know that orbital defense platform
that the Sear had to take out? Well, it compromised about 30% of the mech
bays. Some people are going to have to stay behind."
"WHAT? Can't the Decimation just pick up the slack?"
"Decimation is a Gamma-class dreadnought. It has the personell
quarters, but no 'mech bays. And if you can talk the Galaxy Commander into
leaving funcional 'mechs behind, you may dishonor my family name."
"So who's staying behind?"
"People are being associated with their 'mechs, so if their 'mech is
left behind, they're left behind. Another transport will be along in about
three standard weeks, and those who are left behind will be picked up then.
They've already chosen, and we lost out. The Decimation will provide
orbital cover and all that jazz, but we're stuck on the surface for three
sandard fucking weeks."
"What about..." Czeny pointed at Tom.
"You know how it works, pal. When you capture someone, you are
honor-bound to defend your claim until you turn him over to an authority. If
you stay (and you are) he stays."
"Aw, FUCK! I'm stuck looking after this strabach for three WEEKS? On
this backwater shit-hole? CHRIST! Why do I suddenly wish I had just wasted him
so I could do something worthwhile when I got stuck here?"
"Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20, but-"
"YOU: shut the FUCK UP."
Two standard days later, Tom had decided that homocidal tedancies
were a qualifying factor for being a Smoke Jaguar 'mech pilot. The one who had
stabbed him seemed to have a personal vendetta against him for being forced to
stand there and just take being shot at by him. It didn't seem to matter that
there was no way in hell that he could have actually damaged him or his 'mech.
When he had awoken with his head hurting like hell and his leg orders of
magnitude worse, Czeny (as he had heard him called) had started kicking the
shit out of him until he had been stopped by the guy that he hung around with
with a few words about brain damage. After that, the Czeny's friend had come
over to him.
"Strabach: you are in deep shit. Your allies have been routed, and our
hold on Xymelshia ensures that no force will reach us without prior warning,
certianly enough time for Command to scramble us a transport."
"What the fuck are you telling me this for?" Tom yelled at him. "So
I'm screwed, I already know that."
"I'm doing you a favor. When you surrendured to Czeny, you sacrificed
all personal honor, but I made him endure the indignity of having you shoot at
him without retaliating. You've smeared him, so he's going to take it out on
you whenever and however he can. You should know that, because your life from
here on in is going to be hell. Just know that whatever he does, it's going to
be a cakewalk next to what our interrogators will do if you don't cooperate.
Kapeesh? Since Czeny basically owns you at this point, it would be judicious
to not try to pull any fast ones. I have a class-C2 rating as an interrogator,
and I will use it, so don't piss anyone off around here. Show me the leg."
Tom nodded at his leg, which still had the knife embedded in it.
Someone had applied a turniquet while he was unconcious, but that had been
enough to slow the bleeding some. Without a word, Menaz yanked the knife out
and applied disinfecant and a bandage. It hurt Tom like hell, but at least he
didn't have to bleed anymore.
Czeny came over just as Menaz was finishing. "What the hell are you
doing?" he demanded as his friend stood up.
"Making sure your bonus dosn't get an infection," Menaz shot back "do
whatever you want, but don't pull a stunt like that again. You might rupture
something important."
As Menaz walked towards the crates of supplies and equipment that
dropships from the Sear had delivered before departing, Czeny walked over to
Tom's prone form, considered for a moment, and gave Tom a black eye with one
hevily-shod foot. Then he sat down.
"You know, strabach, those handcuffs you're wearing? Well, they have a
fungus on the inside that's bonded them to your skin. There is absolutly no
way to get anything in between the 'cuffs and your skin. So there's something
you should watch out for: don't think about itches." He grinned and got up,
knowing that Tom's mind would proceed to make him itch.
*All right, asshole, you asked for this one* Tom thought, lashing out
with his unhurt leg. His foot caught Czeny's ankle, causing him to crash
facefirst into the ground. As Czeny tried to get up, Tom's foot caught him in
the ankle again, knocking him back down.
"Aw FUCK! YOU SHITHEAD!" Czeny yelled as he managed to climb back to
his feet. Blood was running out of his nose and various small cuts on his
forehead. "I'M GOING TO GET YOU FOR THIS! YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEAD! I'LL..."
"What the fuck happened?" Menaz asked as he came over "You tripped?"
"That fuckface tripped me." Czeny said with an ice-cold voice. "I
think it's advisable to show him what you can do."
"I agree."
Two days later, Tom was starting to recover. *If that's what a junior
interrogator can do,* he thought *I'd hate to have to face the real thing. I
wonder what will happen when I do... I wonder what whappened to Dela?* He knew
that there were three other prsoners staying behind with the Clanners, but
Czeny and his friend made a point of keeping all the prisoners seperate.
*What the fuck am I going to do... I can't help myself. After a certian point,
I'll say anything to make the pain stop...*
His musings were truncated by a soft popping noise behind him.
--------------------------------MORE TO COME----------------------------------
(I'm gonna write a crossover here, so I need to write a background story for
the other characters I'm gonna use)
MechWarrior3, so please try to point out any glaring plot errors in case I
write another. This is set during MechWarrior3. MechWarrior belongs to
MicroProse and a buch of other people.
"Watch you tail, strike leader. Two Shadow Cats incoming, fast."
"Gotcha, Beta 2. We're on them." Lt. Tom Katari said as he
signaled his wingmen and swung his Bushwacker to face the oncoming 'mechs.
"Want me to get them, boss?" Dela Harin asked as the Shadow Cats came
charging over a nearby ridge.
"No, there isn't that many of them. Let's BLITZ!" The last word was
transmitted to his entire task force. His Bushwacker, Harin's Champion,and
their friend Art Key's Orion charged, launcing all the rockets
they could.
The Sahadow Cats were caught flat-footed. one of them launced an Alpha
Strike at Keys' Orion seconds seconds before the right leg of his 'mech was
blown into shrapnel. His mech keeled over, permenantly out of order.
The other one was cannier. Forgoing weapons, the pilot slammed on his
jump jets. His 'mech luched violently as it lifted off, but it worked. All but
two of the missles streaked under him.
"He's just prolonging the inevitable...damn, those things can fly"
Art's voice came over the comm. The Shadow Cat landed about fifty meters
behind them, already twisting it's torso to get a clean shot. As the three
'mechs spun to plug it, it lashed out with everything it had. Before they
could even get a shot in edgewise, one of Tom's Bushwacker's arms was off.
"You asked for it, bitch. EAT ROCKETS!" Harin screamed over the comm
as her SRMs cut loose. The missles caught the Shadow Cat full in the "face".
It didn't explode, or even fully penetrate, the armor, but it overloaded the
'Cat's gyros, knocking it over. Before it could regain it's feet, the three
'mechs had blown it's legs off.
"Hello, Tom," Harin's voice broke into his musings as he sat
in a restaurant. It was two months later on the frontier world of Ursa-4. The
Smoke Jaguars had been retreating lately, so personell who had run the
requisite number of missions could take a break, but could still be called up
if needed. "Long time, no see."
"Not so long," she said, sitting down next to him "about eight
standard weeks. How long is that here?"
"Damned if I know." Tom replied as he pushed the button on the table,
summoning the waiter. "The days here don't seem to have any constant length."
She leaned over and sniffed his drink. "They wouldn't seem to, no.
What is that, anyway? Disinfectant?"
"God only knows. It's crap, but it's the only stuff I can buy, and it
can get you blind P.D.Q."
She put on a mock-hurt expression and pouted. "Well, I wouldn't know.
I only just got here, Mister Early-Requisite-Filler."
"Howzabout Mister-Takes-Every-Volunteer-Mission-That-He-Can or
Mister-Dosn't-Go-With-Mercenary-Companies. One of my friends did that, he
joined Wolf's Dragoons. The plusses? Pay is good, and you can get your hands
on the best technology that money can buy. The minuses? Pay is unreliable, and
you have to take break where, and when, you can. Also, you have to live on the
edge. Hot-dogging aside, your first line of defense is often you last. You
snooze, you loose it ALL. Give me the Draconis Combine Mech Corps, even though
we are on the edge of Smoke Jaguar territory."
"So how is your friend?"
"His girlfriend collected on his life insurance a year ago."
"Oh. Sorry to hear that." She paused and pursed her lips "say, you
don't sound very drunk. I remember that when you got smashed at that place a
year ago, you would always s-"
"HEY, not so loud. Luckily, they don't have a Karaoke machine here.
Besides, this is my first one."
Ten minutes and a drink apiece later, their talk returned to the raid
on the Jaguars two months ago.
"Hey, come t' think of it, where IS Art? He had more missions than I
did when we did that, and he dosn't slack off. What happened?"
Her expression darkened. "He was patrolling in that Firefly that he
uses for scouting, you know the one I mean...with the..all right. His radar
was damaged, because he and a Strider were involved in a tangle with an Owens
that the Clanners had captured. Well, he rounded one of those mesas that are
all over the place and found himself face-to-face with a Daishi. He never had
a chance...but for whatever it's worth, his sudden cut-off clued the base in
that there was something out there. They sent out three Sunders and ripped the
damn thing apart. I heard that the Daishi pilot died of asphyxiation when his
internal wiring burned. A slow, painful death."
Tom had retained his composure throughout, but grinned painfully as he
heard of the Daishi pilot's death. Then he slammed his fist down on the table,
causing the cups to rattle. "God damn. GOD DAMN! CHRIST! Those mother...I
don't get worked up normally, but this takes the cake. A Daishi. A FUCKING
"GREAT DEATH" PICKING ON A FIREFLY! Of all the chickens-" He was cut off by a
beeping from both of their mobile comms. "I swear, if this is a
telemarketer...I got a call from this guy... do you want to know what he was
selling?"
"Just answer it...no don't. I got it." Dela cut in, grabbing her own
comm. She checked it. All it displayed was the name and serial number of the
local commanding officer and the words "REPORT TO BATTLEMECH SHED RED ALERT".
She looked up at Tom apprehensivly.
"All right, men, this is what we know. The last transmission that
Outpost Theta-4 sent us indicated that the Smoke Jaguars had taken Xymelshia
by a storm. They caught them completly unprepared and beat the shit out of
them. Intercepted Jaguar transmissions say that they know that there are pilots
on hiatus here, and they want to kill or capture as many of you as possable."
"Sir," one of the pilots behind Tom began "what are we going to do?
Evac?"
"No, they have the planet surrounded. If you want to take
your chances with a ship, you're welcome to, but the Vegas odds aren't good.
We're going to have to do an Alamo right here. We're out of options,
and we have 'mechs. That's all we can do, at this point. Remember, the Inner
Sphere expects each of you to his duty. Let's MOVE!"
Tom and Dela found each other in the scramble for 'mechs and
equipment.
"OK, who's sorry they enlisted?" Tom yelled as he climbed into a
captured Blackhawk and ran a staus check. Primary configuration. Good, but
nothing special.
"Me." Dela's voice came over the comm. "I wish I had never..aw fuck,
what good will this do now? What matters is that we're going to ...going
to...DIE!" Her voice broke for a second, but she regained her composure
quickly. "Oh well...at least we'll meet on the other side, if there is one."
"Am I the only one suddenly feeling very religous?"
The attack started at about 4 AM, standard time. It was kicked off by
a wave of LRM 20's from the oncoming Vultures. These were absorbed by the
assault 'mechs out in front. The defenders then returned a mix-n-match wave of
firepower, blasting two of the advancing mechs into slag and damaging several
others.
The next half an hour was a series of devastating advances and
retreats. The Clanners were obviously intent on destroying the base and the
personell in them, but not at the cost of their own skins. So they kept on
advancing and firing on the base and 'mech defenders and retreating when the
situation heated up too much. Oddly enough, they probably lost more 'mechs
that way than they would have if they had just rushed, as the short breaks
gave the defenders time to repair and re-arm.
Then the line broke. It happened when four Jaguar heavy 'mechs.
blitzed a point in the line full of somewhat damaged 'mechs. The Inner Sphere
pilots had seen them coming, but had let them get close so they could use
their weapons to their best effect.
The trap should have worked, too. All of the attackers were caught
flat-footed and three were cut to pieces within seconds. The only one that
even managed to get among its opponents was a Supernova, which was by that
point badly damaged. The pilot, instead of trying to escape, drew a bead on an
Annihilator's leg and used its Alpha Strike, causing his 'mech to live up to
it's name. The machine exploded violently, destroying three defending 'mechs
and knocking limbs and armor off of others. Sensing blood, the Smoke Jaguars
charged.
The next two hours was a whirling hell for all of those involved. The
carefully-regulated lines of 'mechs dissolved into a series of one-on-one
battles. Tom lost track of Dela in the first ten minutes of the battle, then
he became entangled with a Puma. After that, it was simply a chain of
opponents, killing some, wounding others, and running for his life from more.
His most prized kill was a Supernova, which he deactivated with an Alpha
Strike to its wounded leg.
His rampage was largely ended by said Supernova. He knocked it's leg
out, but it manged to pummle his cockpit into the extreme red. He didn't have
radar, internal climate control, throttle control, or any control over his
'mech's right arm. Backing away from the battle, he haeaded for the
yet-untouched 'mech barn in search of a replacement. His Blackhawk was dying.
As he rounded the burning wreckage of an Avatar, he saw two hunched shapes in
front of him, illuminated by burning fuel: two Cauldron-Born. The body of his
'mech shattered under a hail of SRMs.
He could comprehend every moment of the fall. There was a screech of
alarms and electronics, then an eeire silence as power died. The 'mech keeled
over, flames rushing up its back and burning everything they could.
*I'd better get out, before I get fucking incinerated. Those goddamn
Cauldron-Born are probably looking for more damaged 'mechs to backstab, the
chickenshits.*
He climbed out and popped the mecifully still working emergency hatch
in the `head'. As he scrambled out, he looked around at the burning base. The
battle was basically over, and the Smoke Jaguars were victorious. He heard a
humming noise about a fifty meters away. He looked to see the two Cauldron-Born
facing him. Then his body was illuminated by the blinding red light of a TAG
laser.
*Good thing TAGs are low-intensity, or I'd have been scorched to a
crisp. But I suppose that all he has to do now is squeeze the trigger. Nice
knowing you, mom.*
Inside the cockpit of one of the Cauldron-Born, Master Sergeant Menaz
Keld watched as the Inner Sphere Balckhawk crumpled in destruction. It was an
unsatifactory kill, really, almost not worth his time. His honor demanded that
he destroy foes hat were truly his equal, which he had done several times in
this battle. Then he saw his lancemate's TAG go on, illuminating the figure of
a man.
"Hey, Alan, what's up?" He asked over the comm.
Alan Czeny's voice crackled back: "Gonna toast this little strabach
with my lasers. I love it when they turn into red mist! I mean, have you ever-"
"Hold it! Something just occured to me," Menaz cut him off "do you
remember our orders for this raid?"
"Vaguely. Why?"
"OK, don't shoot while I puch them up." Menaz's fingers flew over his
computer controls, bringing up an electronic copy of their orders. "Hah! I was
right!"
"Wassup?"
"Enemy 'mech pilots are worth a bonus if you capture them. Check it
out. Value proportional to information provided...then it's just legalese."
"That's bull! Who says this strabach knows anything, anyway?"
"At least he could help our intel people to dissect the inner workings
of the 'mech computers, you know, encryption and shit."
In the meantime, Tom had produced his sidearm and had started shooting
at Czeny's 'mech.
"Look," Czeny exclaimed "Now the asshole's shooting at me! I'm
gonna..."
"Drop the ball on that bonus."
"This is the biggest indignity of my LIFE. Letting an enemy just shoot
at me when I can fire back, but don't? I'm never gonna live this down. Listen,
if this bonus thing dosn't pan out...I'm gonna meet you in a Circle of Equals.
Then we'll see who was right." Even over the comm, Menaz could tell that Czeny
wasn't joking.
"All right, I hear you. OK, I've been counting. He's out of ammo."
"Cover me. I'll get him."
Tom had decided to inflict whatever damage he copuld on the Clanners
before they killed him. Knowing full well that it was a futile gesture,
barring a one-in-a-trillion shot, he pulled his sidearm and started firing at
the unmoving Cauldron-Born. When he was out of ammunition, he just stood
there. Gritting his teeth, he waited for the end to come.
But the next sound he heard wasn't the end. It was two thumps, the
first one being a hatch being thrown open, the second one being the pilot of
the 'mech he had been shooting at landing on the ground.
"All right, strabach, I know you're gun's empty, so drop it." Tom
obeyed, for lack of any options. "Now reach into you boot...it's the left one,
I think...and take out the knife that you have in there. Use your middle and
index fingers. Now toss it over here." Tom did so, but threw it a lot harder
and more accuratly than his prospective captor had been intending. The knife
flew straight for Czeny's chest, but the Clanner twisted, causing the knife to
stick in his armored shoulder plate. As he yanked it out, Tom was gratified to
see that the tip had blood on it.
Czeny's eyes crossed with rage, but he stopped himself from pulling
the trigger. *Think bonus...think honor...think of this asshole in a torture
chamber with some class-A interrogators...*. Out loud he said:
"Nice one, strabach, pity it didn't work. Now that you're disarmed, you know
the capture drill...turn around, put your hands on the wreckage of your
'mech." As Tom did so, Czeny pulled something off his belt that someone in the
armory issued: organic-bonding handcuffs. They were standard handcuffs, a
high-density titanium alloy, but the best part was on the inde of the
inch-wide wrist bands. It was a sort of slimy fungus that bonded to human skin
and could only be removed by a certain chemical "key". If you simply killed
the fungus, it would remain bonded to the prisoner's wrists and rot, opening
him up to an almost guarenteed case of gangrene.
Tom was taking orders from the homocidal Clanner because there wasn't
anything else he could do. The he heard the sound ouf a knife being pulled.
*The Clanners don't seem to want to kill me. I wonder...* is thoughts gave way
tohis voice "Hey, since when is a knife in the capture drill?" "Put your
hands behind you or find out." Czeny snarled in reply. When Tom did so, Czeny
fastened the handcuffs on him and took his dog tags. "Lessee.. Lt. Tom
Katari...serial number blah blah woof woof." grabbing his comm unit, he spoke
to Menaz. "Hey, you were right. We bagged ourselves a lieutanant here. How much
do you think that's worth?"
"In and of itelf?" Keld replied "Nothing. But he'll probably know
something that Intel will want to know, too. Let's sent this up to the Sear
and see what they make of it."
"OK, I'll take care of business here." Czeny said, and stuck his comm
back onto his belt. Then he picked up his knife and drove it into Tom's right
calf. Not content with that, he jammed the knife deep as he could until it
hit something tougher than the normal tissue. He didn't know if it was bone,
tendon, or what, but he knew that it had done it's work.
Tom yelled himself hoarse as his mind seemed to explode with pain. He
knew that the psychopathic Clanner had stabbed him, but that fact paled next
to the red haze descending on his mind and the copious amounts of blood he
could feel running out of his leg. Then Czeny gave the knife another twist,
and Tom blacked out.
"Hey," Czeny spun reflexivly as he heard the voice behind him, only to
see Manaz "have you got him under control...what the fuck did you DO?" he had
just seen Katari passed out behind Czeny in a pool of his own blood.
"Oh, that?" Czeny was obviously unfazed by what he had just done.
"Just making sure he couldn't run away...also restoring a bit of my pride. The
little shit had the nerve to toss his knife at me; figured that he might try
to pull a fast fade, so I crippled him. I don't think I any irreversable
damage...and even if I did, what's the big deal? It's just a strabach."
"OK, it's your honor. Although I don't know wether that was really
smart or really dumb, given the news."
"News? Good or bad?"
"Bad." Menaz looked pissed. "You know that orbital defense platform
that the Sear had to take out? Well, it compromised about 30% of the mech
bays. Some people are going to have to stay behind."
"WHAT? Can't the Decimation just pick up the slack?"
"Decimation is a Gamma-class dreadnought. It has the personell
quarters, but no 'mech bays. And if you can talk the Galaxy Commander into
leaving funcional 'mechs behind, you may dishonor my family name."
"So who's staying behind?"
"People are being associated with their 'mechs, so if their 'mech is
left behind, they're left behind. Another transport will be along in about
three standard weeks, and those who are left behind will be picked up then.
They've already chosen, and we lost out. The Decimation will provide
orbital cover and all that jazz, but we're stuck on the surface for three
sandard fucking weeks."
"What about..." Czeny pointed at Tom.
"You know how it works, pal. When you capture someone, you are
honor-bound to defend your claim until you turn him over to an authority. If
you stay (and you are) he stays."
"Aw, FUCK! I'm stuck looking after this strabach for three WEEKS? On
this backwater shit-hole? CHRIST! Why do I suddenly wish I had just wasted him
so I could do something worthwhile when I got stuck here?"
"Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20, but-"
"YOU: shut the FUCK UP."
Two standard days later, Tom had decided that homocidal tedancies
were a qualifying factor for being a Smoke Jaguar 'mech pilot. The one who had
stabbed him seemed to have a personal vendetta against him for being forced to
stand there and just take being shot at by him. It didn't seem to matter that
there was no way in hell that he could have actually damaged him or his 'mech.
When he had awoken with his head hurting like hell and his leg orders of
magnitude worse, Czeny (as he had heard him called) had started kicking the
shit out of him until he had been stopped by the guy that he hung around with
with a few words about brain damage. After that, the Czeny's friend had come
over to him.
"Strabach: you are in deep shit. Your allies have been routed, and our
hold on Xymelshia ensures that no force will reach us without prior warning,
certianly enough time for Command to scramble us a transport."
"What the fuck are you telling me this for?" Tom yelled at him. "So
I'm screwed, I already know that."
"I'm doing you a favor. When you surrendured to Czeny, you sacrificed
all personal honor, but I made him endure the indignity of having you shoot at
him without retaliating. You've smeared him, so he's going to take it out on
you whenever and however he can. You should know that, because your life from
here on in is going to be hell. Just know that whatever he does, it's going to
be a cakewalk next to what our interrogators will do if you don't cooperate.
Kapeesh? Since Czeny basically owns you at this point, it would be judicious
to not try to pull any fast ones. I have a class-C2 rating as an interrogator,
and I will use it, so don't piss anyone off around here. Show me the leg."
Tom nodded at his leg, which still had the knife embedded in it.
Someone had applied a turniquet while he was unconcious, but that had been
enough to slow the bleeding some. Without a word, Menaz yanked the knife out
and applied disinfecant and a bandage. It hurt Tom like hell, but at least he
didn't have to bleed anymore.
Czeny came over just as Menaz was finishing. "What the hell are you
doing?" he demanded as his friend stood up.
"Making sure your bonus dosn't get an infection," Menaz shot back "do
whatever you want, but don't pull a stunt like that again. You might rupture
something important."
As Menaz walked towards the crates of supplies and equipment that
dropships from the Sear had delivered before departing, Czeny walked over to
Tom's prone form, considered for a moment, and gave Tom a black eye with one
hevily-shod foot. Then he sat down.
"You know, strabach, those handcuffs you're wearing? Well, they have a
fungus on the inside that's bonded them to your skin. There is absolutly no
way to get anything in between the 'cuffs and your skin. So there's something
you should watch out for: don't think about itches." He grinned and got up,
knowing that Tom's mind would proceed to make him itch.
*All right, asshole, you asked for this one* Tom thought, lashing out
with his unhurt leg. His foot caught Czeny's ankle, causing him to crash
facefirst into the ground. As Czeny tried to get up, Tom's foot caught him in
the ankle again, knocking him back down.
"Aw FUCK! YOU SHITHEAD!" Czeny yelled as he managed to climb back to
his feet. Blood was running out of his nose and various small cuts on his
forehead. "I'M GOING TO GET YOU FOR THIS! YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEAD! I'LL..."
"What the fuck happened?" Menaz asked as he came over "You tripped?"
"That fuckface tripped me." Czeny said with an ice-cold voice. "I
think it's advisable to show him what you can do."
"I agree."
Two days later, Tom was starting to recover. *If that's what a junior
interrogator can do,* he thought *I'd hate to have to face the real thing. I
wonder what will happen when I do... I wonder what whappened to Dela?* He knew
that there were three other prsoners staying behind with the Clanners, but
Czeny and his friend made a point of keeping all the prisoners seperate.
*What the fuck am I going to do... I can't help myself. After a certian point,
I'll say anything to make the pain stop...*
His musings were truncated by a soft popping noise behind him.
--------------------------------MORE TO COME----------------------------------
(I'm gonna write a crossover here, so I need to write a background story for
the other characters I'm gonna use)