This story has been on hiatus for awhile, which wasn't planned. Work and life get in the way, and soon I realize it's been months since I updated. Still, I like to write this story and I know some people like to read it, (thanks, Rogue!) so it will definitely be completed.

Hellcat's been incredibly good about helping me get back into the swing of things, so he deserves a round of applause. No promises on a new update schedule, but here's hoping it'll be more timely.

Chapter 21

Normally, odds of four-against-one would deter a pilot but Hank was a hunter and she had the high ground. Since the Griffin handled similarly to her Quickdraw, leaping from ledge to ledge as she stalked her prey was easy. As she climbed higher up on a mesa, she spotted the two Lyran tanks below.

She didn't hold fast to any grudges against the Lyran realm. Ideology, wars, planets traded back and forth—none of that mattered to her. All she wanted her pound of flesh, and she was going to have it.

A faintly mean smirk crossed her lips as she watched the Scorpions rolling through the dust below. The two medium 'Mechs had gone into hiding a few minutes ago, probably scared off by the brash Mad Cat that harassed them at every turn. They didn't seem to realize that Randi had departed. Hank needed some way to lure those 'Mechs out into the open, and wrecking their compatriot tanks was probably a good start. Bursting out from cover as she vaulted a narrow gap in the mesa, she pitched her Griffin's guns down and laid into an exposed Scorpion.

The armor on the tank's right flank melted off and pooled on the desert ground, exposing the caterpillar tracks. Immediately, both Scorpions accelerated in an attempt to flee their attacker. Hank wasn't about to let that happen, though. Soon after her PPC shot, she let fly her LRMs, finishing off the first tank's armor and tracks, and watched as its crew abandoned it.

"Yeah, you better run," she muttered aloud. "Jackass zealots."

The Scorpion was a good clip slower than her Griffin—unusual for a light tank—and not half as well armed. She loped along the mesa parallel to the still-operable one, and fired another burst of LRMs. She would have to wait some time before using her PPC again, or risk over-taxing her heat sinks. As much as she liked the weapon's reach, she couldn't help but pine for her Quickdraw's heat-efficient systems.

She dearly hoped that the Techs could do something about her poor BattleMech. As much as she wanted to believe that everything would be fixed once they had parts, she also wondered if Ned had unintentionally exaggerated the feasibility of repairs.

The machine she used now was a solid enough 'Mech—agile, moderately quick, decently armed. With some double heat sinks, it could be a good sniper. Still, it wasn't hers. She didn't feel any connection to the 'Mech, or any sense of immersion when she piloted it. It scared her a little to think of losing that feeling forever.

Now wasn't the time to think about that. Her missile warning system blared as the Whitworth came out of hiding and fired on her. Her heat sinks weren't ready, but self-defense was more important. She brought her targeting reticule over the other 'Mech and fired her PPC hastily. The temperature in her cockpit spiked, causing more sweat to bead on her skin. The discomfort was not for nothing, as the shot pounded armor off the Whitworth's arm and scared it back into hiding. As she turned back to the tank, another more distant target appeared: a light blue APC speeding toward Hartsburg.

'Dangit, that's the last thing we need...'

She bit her lip gently and backed up, then broke into a run. As the Griffin's foot pressed into the frail earth at the cliff's edge, she hit her jumpjets. The ground crumpled, but by that time, she was already halfway to the edge of the Hartsburg mesa. She watched her controls carefully, trying to judge depth through the cockpit, obstacles from the viewscreen, and height from the altimeter. As she neared the edge, she realized she was going to fall just short of her target. Hank worked the pedals quickly, making the 'Mech kick in midair, until one of its feet caught the edge of the cliff. She grinned in relief, and gave the jumpjets another burst to push herself up onto solid ground.

Ahead, she could see the two Archers milling about chaotically as they shot at something near their feet. "What are you doing here?" she asked. Perhaps her tone was a bit sharp, but the question was one of genuine surprise.

"Clear the comm!" an unfamiliar man—probably the second Archer pilot—commanded. "Bloody merc..."

Rather than snap back, Hank cooled her voice. "Hey, that's no way to talk to a friend," she said. "Now, what's going on, and how can I help?"

"There's infantry everywhere! We killed the first APC, but we've lost the other units. We don't know how many damn Sweiners are out there." This time it was Raynes who spoke.

Hank noted two masses of charred, flame-licked metal lying in the street as she approached. Obviously, things had gotten ugly, but APCs and infantry seemed like a poor reason to turn away from the main engagement. However, telling them so would probably do more harm than good. "Let me take care of the Elsies here. You two can do the most good back at the front."

"And let them flank the city?"

She frowned a little. They obviously weren't interested in reason, right now. "Storm, I know you don't want anyone in this city to get hurt, and neither do I. I'm a Leaguer, too," she said, entreating the lieutenant's nationalism. It was a rather ironic move, but it was the best she could hope for, now. "There's a group of assault 'Mechs making a break for the main road. The Tiburónes have infantry of their own to deal with the Elsie troops, but they can't hold back the BattleMechs without you." Hank adjusted her grip on the control sticks and held her ground. 'Raynes ain't gonna buy a word of this...'

The two League 'Mechs seemed to regard her for a moment, as if judging whether she was friend or foe. "Alright," Lt. Raynes said, finally. "We'll leave you to it."

"But—" her lancemate protested.

"Return to the line, Two," Raynes said. "That's an order."

Hank blinked in surprise as the two Archers left. Knowing when to back off and leave others to do their jobs was one of the first hard lessons of command. Perhaps the militia MechWarrior was not quite as green as she seemed.

Whatever infantry the Lyrans had sent up to the mesa had largely disappeared. She thought she saw a spat of muzzle flashes down one of the streets, but whatever had caused it vanished quickly. With the Lyran APC dispatched, she decided to find the pesky 'Mechs, and finish them off. As she came back to the edge of the mesa, her position was raked by the Whitworth's missiles. Before she could return fire, however, the Whitworth had ducked into cover. She gave a huff of annoyance, frustrated with that 'Mech and its game of hide and seek.

She pulled back from the ledge and stalked over towards the road that led into the city. The way down was indeed too steep and narrow for a 'Mech to traverse. However, it would make a decent foothold to spring from, if a pilot had enough experience with jumpjets. Either, the Lyrans weren't big on fancy jumpjet use or they hadn't yet figured this out. She hoped that at least one case would hold, and she wouldn't find the two medium 'Mechs galloping through the streets of Hartsburg.

Seeing that she could—possibly—return to where she stood now, she decided to follow her quarry to the ground. She fired her jumpjets and hopped over the edge, then let the 'Mech free-fall for about one third of the mesa's height. After that, she alternately fell and feathered her jets, coming to a reasonably smooth landing in an open portion of the desert.

To her surprise, the second Scorpion tank lay only three hundred meters away from her position. It began to fire on her immediately, as it shifted into reverse. Armor plates exploded off the Griffin's chest as the shells struck her. Quickly, she pushed her throttle to get out of the tank's line of fire, while she leveled her PPC and lined up the crosshairs between the tank body and turret. A glance at her heat gauge showed it was still a little high from the jump and run, but she promised herself that if the shot hit she would give the 'Mech a moment to cool down. With that, she pulled the trigger and let loose a light blue bolt of energy that soared into the tank. The shot hit its mark and penetrated the armor, igniting the autocannon rounds in the tank. The ammunition explosions separated the turret from the body in a gruesome fireworks display.

She had no time to admire her handiwork, as volley of ordnance peppered her 'Mech. She hit her jumpjets and leapt away to a nearby outcrop of rocks. "Damn Elsies," she muttered under her breath as she scanned for the evasive 40-tonners amongst the long desert shadows. Hank gave a huff as she watched the heat levels from the corner of her eye, but continued moving carefully, hopping from ridge to ridge.

Eventually, she caught sight of her quarry again. The Whitworth had stopped atop a small mesa, unaware of her presence. She grinned and squeezed the trigger, sending first a PPC then a salvo of missiles into its back. The Lyran 'Mech fell forward under the blows, venting a sickly green smoke from the holes in its armor. Seizing the opportunity, she pounced forward and landed next to the prone 'Mech, ravaging it with another blast from her PPC.

Before she could continue tearing at the Whitworth, the Clint appeared, rising from the lowlands on its jumpjets, and swiped at her with its lasers. As tempting a target as the former was, it wasn't worth getting bloodied over. After all, the Whitworth didn't look as though it would be going anywhere.

The Clint fired again, striking her right arm. She darted across the rocks to evade, trying to shake off the hit. Once she glanced at her indicators, however, she realized the damage was more severe than she thought. She fired her PPC at the Clint and twisted to cover her right arm. The concentrated blast of ions tore into its chest and gutted most of its internal structure. It stumbled a little, and continued running.

Pausing for a moment, she twisted back towards Hartsburg for a quick scan of the area. Everything seemed about the same as it had been before she leapt down from the plateau. She held her position, rocking back and forth gently as she balanced on a loose slab of stone, and considered the situation. She didn't believe that the Clint really intended to flee. This was supposedly a veteran unit, and veterans didn't just cut and run so easily. The Clint's pilot was probably much more concerned about their lancemate than their own 'Mech.

With the advantage of range, all she had to do was keep the lighter 'Mech at arm's length and slowly grind it down. She fired a salvo of missiles and hopped back to where the Whitworth lay, to inspect it. As she neared, the 'Mech struggled to get up again but gyro damage from the fall thwarted its attempts. Unable to stand, the 'Mech gave shove with its arm, rolling onto its back, and fired an alpha strike. Missiles corkscrewed harmlessly into the air, but its trio of medium lasers bored into the Griffin's torso and pauldron-like shoulder. The melted armor seeped down into the shoulder actuator in her right arm, jamming it.

Hank shoved the controls sticks forward against the momentum of her 'Mech as it stumbled back, trying to stay away from the ledge. Steadying herself, she cursed and swung the Griffin's leg hard into the prone 'Mech. Armor crumpled under the force, and little shards sprayed out from its side. The Whitworth convulsed, flailing its arms uselessly, as she viciously kicked it a second time. It tried to raise an arm to defend against the second blow, only to have the limb snapped off by the kick. Finally, the Whitworth finally and Hank could see from her thermal monitors that the pilot had shut down and surrendered.

Not a second later, however, her radar warned of an enemy 'Mech moving up on her six. She turned to fire, but the Clint was approaching too quickly and darted in under her weapon's minimum ranges. It struck out at her with its twin medium lasers, and then a fist. Hank was taken aback by the sudden onslaught and struggled to keep her balance. She grabbed the Clint by its shoulder to steady herself, then kicked its shin as she pushed it away.

As the 40-ton 'Mech stumbled back, the loose rocks of the mesa slid out from under its feet. Unable to get any purchase, it slipped over the edge into the shadows. Just as she turned to leave, a faint glow of jumpjets appeared against the canyon walls.

By the time Randi reached the base of the mesa, the Lyran 'Mechs were clawing the retreating LRM carriers. At that range, the two carriers were completely defenseless.

Scanning the area quickly, she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. A blue humanoid 'Mech was busy vaulting up the side of the Mesa. She brought her targeting reticule to it swiftly, only to realize that it was the Tiburón Hatchetman. As she lowered her guns, the 'Mech turned toward her for a moment. "If you have jumpjets, you better use them now," the pilot called out to her before continuing his jump,"or start flapping your arms."

Spork's humor caught her off guard, but she followed suit and depressed both pedals, lifting her into the air behind him. With well-trained and precise movement, Randi maneuvered her OmniMech up the side of the mesa. For a 75-ton construct, it had a surprising amount of grace. She caught up with Spork, as she reached the top and moved to his side.

Unfortunately, they were too late to help one of the LRM carriers, as flames licked out of holes in its armor. A little further away, the second carrier in full retreat, with Antonio trying to defend it from the two attacking Lyran 'Mechs. His Catapult showed scorch marks on its armor from the battle, but it doggedly held back the attacking heavies.

Spork fired first with his autocannon, stripping the remaining armor off an enemy Grasshopper's back. The Lyran 'Mech twisted sharply around to retaliate, melting off more than half a ton of armor with two medium lasers. Shrugging off the attack, Spork lighted off again on his jets, firing a burst from his autocannon. The Grasshopper pilot dodged the slug and lined up its guns on Randi. The Mad Cat was a much greater threat than Spork's Hatchetman.

The Grasshopper opened up on her with all of its remaining weapons. The large laser stitched over her torso, followed closely by a medium. Luckily, the other shots went wide over Nyx, allowing her time to recover. Randi shrugged off the hits and quickly squeezed down on the firing triggers to keep her foe off balance. Twin PPC bolts pounded the Grasshopper's right leg, vaporizing the already weakened armor and searing the endo-steel bone. The Lyran machine shook violently from the hit and teetered back, its leg starting to bow under the 'Mech's own weight. While the pilot was distracted, Spork struck again. Leaping forward, he raised his right arm and swung his hatchet. The titanium-sheathed blade cleaved into the enemy 'Mech's torso with enough downward force to finally snap what was left of the battered leg. With a shriek of tearing metal, the Grasshopper landed flat on its back, shaking the ground around it.

With the 70-tonner disabled, everything seemed suddenly quiet. Antonio and the heavy 'Mech he was fighting had both disappeared, and the Archers were not in sight, either. "Vixen, sitrep," Randi requested, taking advantage of the brief respite. She loped ahead, trying to spy another target.

"I'm a little beat up, but I'm still good to fight, Black Wolf. The tanks and Whitworth are down, and I've got the Clint pinned. Over."

"Copy that. Regroup once you have finished it. Over."

"Wilco. Out," Hank replied.

Randi kept moving until her sensors picked up the last Lyran 'Mech. She throttled up, hoping to give it as little time to prepare as she could. Ahead, she spotted it leaping through the air, as it fired a salvo of SRMs and lasers at an unseen target which responded in kind with ER and pulse lasers. The light blue Guillotine landed, shaking the ground, then made another short jump to close in on its opponent.

Sprinting after it, Randi depressed her foot pedals and leapt to follow the Guillotine. At the peak of her jump she spotted Antonio's Catapult backing away from the heavier 'Mech. The Lyran laid into the side of his 'Mech with its large laser, then launched a spray of SRMs. Armor sloughed from the Catapult's torso under the sting of the laser, but the shark-toothed machine weathered the damage. Just as he turned to retaliate, the missiles hit their mark, peppering the 'Mech's leg. One of the warheads hammered into its ankle joint, ripping the actuator as it exploded. Unable to save himself from a fall, Antonio's 'Mech crashed into the dirt, and lay prone as the Guillotine closed on it.