Chapter 4
Melissa eased her battle scared Awesome back into the camouflaged dugout. Around her the Commando's camp was a hive of activity as the surviving mechs of her company was quickly guided into their respective bays and covered with camo nets to await the attention of the technicians. Slipping off her neurohelmet, she popped the her mech's hatch and slowly climbed down the rope ladder to the ground. Her husband awaited her at the bottom, a thermos of coffee in each hand.
"Rough mission." Max said sympathetically as he offered her one of the thermoses.
"If you're going to mother me I'll leave you at home next time." Melissa half-jokingly chilled him. It never failed to annoy her how nervous Max got when she went on missions without him, but a half smile gave away how much she appreciated that he always had a pot of coffee on the go for her when she got back. "Thanks though."
Together they began to circulate amongst the company, checking on the mechwarriors, offering reassurance to those that needed it, aid to those that were injured, coffee to those that weren't. "Sam said he would be down in about 5 minutes." Max said, checking his watch. "Wanted to give you time to sort things out before he addressed the company."
Melissa nodded, she was weary and mostly wanted to sort her troops out, write her report and go to bed. But she appreciated that with 1 in 4 of the company casualties Gibson would want to address the troops before the reality of the situation had a chance to properly sink in. "Morale should hold up. We've took beatings before." She replied quietly enough that only Max could hear.
"True." Max replied in the same hushed tone. "This wasn't anything on Ridderkerk."
They continued their rounds, most of the company moved like they were in a daze, a mixture of fatigue and shock. They had gotten used to success and this defeat had caught many of the less experienced members of the company by surprise. Melissa saw Gibson walking towards them and moved to intercept him.
"Ready?" He asked simply, his expression neutral, unreadable.
"Yes." Melissa replied and started to gather her troops in. Somewhat nervously they formed a semi-circle around their commanding officer. Gibson let the silence drag on for a moment as he met the eyes of each warrior present. Morale, he knew, was a slippery beast and the wrong comment at the wrong time could be disastrous. However, the mechwarriors in front of him looked like they had just been whipped and looked like they expected a whipping next time as well, it fell to him to change that.
"We lost 9 comrades today. Mechwarriors, Leonard, Nicci, Sean. Infantrymen, Ewan, Ken, Alex, Brian, Georgina, Fred. I want you to remember their names. I want you to remember them so next time we go out into the field you will know without doubt why we are fighting..."
Melissa phased out, she had heard similar speeches before. They were psychology 101, get the troops angry, then focus that anger at the enemy. She looked round at her company, it seemed to be working, most of them now looked grimly determined if not outright furious. Except Nick and Jenny. Jenny was shaking with the effort of keeping a neutral expression, Nick just looked vacant.
"…do me proud, do yourselves proud." Gibson finished and stepped back, the prearranged signal for Melissa to take over.
"As planned we are entering a period of refit." Melissa continued the pep talk without missing a beat. "You are each responsible for ensuring both you and your mech are at 100%. Next time, we will give them hell." She paused for effect. "Dismissed."
The company dispersed, leaving Melissa, Max and Gibson alone. "So what happened?" Gibson asked.
"Bit off more than we could chew. I thought we had trapped a lone star, but it was part of a binary." Melissa replied simply. "I'll have a more concrete assessment by tomorrow morning."
Gibson nodded. "Happens." He replied simply. "You ok?"
Melissa fixed him with a sideways glace and amused half smile. "Not my first rodeo Gibson."
"I know." Gibson grumbled while Max suppressed a smile. "Don't ask, don't find out and all that. How are the rest?"
Melissa looked up thoughtfully. "I don't think we will have a problem with the rankers." She considered her words carefully before continuing. "Nick's Lance got hit hard, he might need someone to talk to. You served with his father…he might value your input."
Gibson nodded. "He's in my company anyway, I'll handle it. Anything else?"
Melissa considered mentioning Jenny, but decided to talk to her herself first. "Nothing jumps out."
"Right, I'll let you get on. Canteen's been kept open for you, make sure you get a hot meal, Max has been worrying." Gibson added to Max's horror.
"I never said that." Max spluttered to both Melissa and Gibson's amusement.
"I'll do that, wouldn't what to worry my husband now." Melissa said innocently as she walked away.
"I'll pay for that later." Max complained to Gibson.
"I know." Gibson replied with a smirk. "But she'll forgive you for telling her to rest faster than she'd forgive me. You should get some food too; I'll go find Nick."
"Will do." Max replied, heading off to the Canteen.
Melissa didn't go for food, something was definitely wrong with Jenny and it wasn't in her nature to rest until the problem was resolved. She found the light mech captain perched on a camp chair, typing up her report.
"What's up Jenny?"
Jenny looked up, annoyance clearly written on her face. "Nothing." She replied before returning to her report.
Melissa took a short steadying breath, fighting down her own frustration. She pulled up a sandbag and sat down. "Something is wrong. You've been running yourself into the ground for the last fortnight and now you look ready to kill someone, so what is it?"
This time Jenny didn't look up. "It won't make any difference so why bother." She muttered, still typing.
"Don't make me make this an order." Melissa half growled, her growing frustration leaking into her voice.
Jenny snapped her laptop shut and glared at Melissa. "Today did not just 'happen'. I've been warning Gibson about this since Vulcan." Jenny kept her voice low but fierce. "I've been asking for better scouts to cover our flanks as well as our front and what have I got, more useless bloody Valkyries. I'm not being allowed to do my job properly and three of our Mechwarriors died for that."
Melissa listen carefully. "Do you know why we didn't replace the Valkryies?"
"Because, I'm not one of you and I don't get listened to." Jenny shot back.
"No." Melissa replied firmly. "I was there when we brought the replacement mechs. We can only buy what's available and the regulars picked up most of the better stuff. Nothing better was available, we had a hard enough time getting the second Clint." She paused a second. "Why didn't you bring these concerns to me?"
"Would he have listened to you anymore than he did me?"
"Yes as a matter of fact." Melissa responded angrily. "I'm the 2iC it's my job to advise the CO and I'm good at it. But I can't do anything about a problem I don't know about!" She moderated her tone considerable. "Look, I was an outsider too remember, working here is a culture shock I know."
"No shit." Jenny replied. "I'm Arcturan Guards." She stated with pride. "We have rules, we have doctrine, our boss doesn't walk around looking like a hobo."
"But we're not Guards, we're Commandos." Melissa replied levelly. She was sympathetic, having previously served with the FWLM joining the Commandos had been a shock to the system. "Our rules are laxer, our dress is scruffier and we're a damn liability in peacetime. But we're really good at killing Clanners. If you want to contribute to that, stop wishing for kit we can't have, figure out how we can do better with kit we have, make sure your report reflects that and make sure I get your report first so mine can reflect yours."
Jenny's anger gave way to frustration as she slummed back in her chair. "I don't think I'm staying after this campaign." She said quietly.
Melissa nodded. "Fair enough, this isn't for everyone. But in the mean time we need you, but we need you firing on all cylinders. Can you do that for me?"
"I'll pull my weight." Jenny reopened her laptop case. "I'd better rewrite this. You mind waiting for it?"
Melissa smiled. "Let's get something to eat first. We could both do with a break."
Meanwhile, Gibson had been trying and failing to find Nick. He knew Nick preferred a quiet working environment, it was therefore a surprise to find him in the cockpit of his mech right in the middle of the repair area. Gibson clambered up the rope ladder and heaved himself up onto the Wolverines shoulder without saying anything. Nick was engrossed in watching the playback of his last mission, giving it his complete attention. Gibson watched for some time before interrupting.
"Learn anything?"
"Gibson!" Nick jumped with surprise. "I'm just, just…"
"Try to figure out what you did wrong?" Gibson suggested sympathetically.
"Yes." Nick admitted sadly. "There must be something, something I could have done, something I should have seen."
Gibson lent back and looked at the sky. "Would you like to know when it went wrong?"
"Yes." Nick picked up noticeably.
"Rewind to just before the ambush." Gibson instructed. Nick complied and together they watched the replay until the first time a Clan mech came into view. "There." Gibson said, Nick paused the tape and stared at the screen, confused. "You got unlucky Nick, that's what went wrong. There was no way for you to know they were there, no way for you to predicted their presence, you just got unlucky."
Nick face fell. "There must be more than that."
Gibson shook his head sadly. "You know my record, I've been a soldier for 28 years and I can tell you this without fear of contradiction. It doesn't matter how good you are or how skilled you are, survival often boils down to luck and bad luck kills. Worse for us, our bad luck will get those under our command killed and we have to find a way to live with that."
Nick looked down unhappily. "How do you live with it?" He asked at length.
Gibson took a long breath and released it slowly. This conversation was going into territory he would rather avoid. "Why does everyone apart from Max call me by my last name?" he replied.
"Professional distance, you're the boss." Nick answered, though it wasn't something he'd given much thought to previously.
Gibson shook his head. "People were doing it long before that. No, it's simpler than that, I'm not close to many people here. Family aside, I have maybe two and a half friends here, everyone else is either a comrade or colleague, nothing more. That's very deliberate on my part. I lost a lot of friends in 39, so I made a conscious choice not to get close to people afterwards. That way it hurts less when they died." His voice changed, picking up a harder edge. "Nick, if you listen to no other advice I give you, listen to this one. Don't be me, figure out a better way of surviving in this game."
Nick didn't look any happier. "So what do I do?"
"Sorry Nick, you've got to figure that one out yourself. But as a start talk to the others, don't bottle things up inside. We've all got stories, no-one's going to give you any grief." Nick nodded in agreement. Gibson stood up on the Wolverines shoulder. "In the meantime, turn off that monitor, get out of this mech and get some hot food."
"Roger." Nick started the shutdown procedure. "Gibson…thanks."
Gibson nodded. "Sam, in private it's Sam. And no problem."
