THIRTY SEVEN
by RougeBaron
Hoan Kim Trung Trac Plain,
Narvosk, Former FWL,
April 5, 3080
Colonel Kristoffer Hasek Davion had seen a lot. He had been at the front lines on Sommerset, robbing the world from the Jade Falcons, a feat that was deemed impossible at that time. He fought Manei Domini, the cyborg fiends that people believed to be invincible, with their Celestial Battlemechs which were beyond the technological standard. He'd climbed down to hell more than once and he survived every single time. The scars in his body were testament to the death and destruction he managed to go through.
So the view of Narvosk Regimental Combat Team splayed across the smooth, rocky plain didn't make him flinch. And he knew too well that nobody in his regiment did.
As predicted, the Commonwealth put the bulk of its army to stop Kristoffer's regiment from walking across Hoan Kim Trung Trac Plain. The Battlemech regiment formed the core of the Commonwealth's army, boxed by a smorgasbord of combat vehicles and battle armor squads with armor-piercing missiles. The plain was a vast flat surface that hid nothing between the two forces. But the Narvosk RCT was spread so wide Kristoffer couldn't see the end of the formation from the canopy of his Daishi-A.
"This is Colonel Hasek-Davion," he rallied his warriors through general frequency. "You've all heard the news, and you all know the mission. You should also know there is only one way that this mission ends: and that's with the end of the tyranny of the Commonwealth of Narvosk.
"Now I want you all to look around you. Remember their faces, for one day you will tell your children and your grandchildren that you served with such men and women as the universe has never seen. And together, you'll accomplish the feat that will be told and retold down through the ages, and find immortality as only the Gods once knew. In the New Saint Andrews Unified Command, we've got a Captain from the Federated Suns, another from the Magistracy of Canopus. We've got members from the Draconis Combine, Capellans, Lyrans, Clans' Men and Women, Taurians, Anduriens, Regulans, Maruians, survivors from The Knights of the Inner Sphere, Rasalhaugians, Orienteites and a number of you from New Saint Andrews itself; all looking to make a better life for themselves.
"Now, in the past, some men and women in this unit may have experienced discrimination because of race, sex or creed. But for you and me now, all that is gone. We're moving into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, where you will watch the back of the man or woman next to you, as they will watch yours. And you won't care what color they are, where they come from, or by what name he or she calls their Gods.
"I can't promise that I will bring you all home alive. But this I swear before you and before all the Almighty Gods: that when we go into battle, I will be the first to set foot on the field, and I will be the last to step off, and I will leave no one behind. Dead or alive, we will all come home together.
"Some questioned why we left our new home. I say to their questions that we have gone to defend our home against those who would seek to conquer and occupy our lands and take away our Gods given freedom to live our lives. And to do this they would enlist the aid of those who would employ weapons of mass destruction, in the hands of traitors and those who feel that we've done them wrong in the past. From the first moment Commonwealth forces landed and allied themselves with the Brannigans, we were at war.
"This is our line in space. And they shall be shown that they can't cross it no matter what they send against us! I'm proud to serve with you all. Good hunting."
War cries flooded the comlink, and the New St. Andrews war machines started to march toward the Commonwealth ranks in single row. The main line of the New St. Andrews, a reinforced Battlemech battalion, rolled straight at the heart of the Commonwealth row. A reserve battalion of Battlemechs occupied the left wing, and another battalion of battle armor guarded the St. Andrews right flank.
The Commonwealth army – superior in numbers – saw Kris' move and raised the stakes. Their medium and light heavy 'mechs took up both edges of the row, while their heavyweights populated the center part, built around a massive Fafnir, undoubtedly the commander of the RCT. The faster 'mechs quickly achieved maximum speed, turning the single-row formation into a bow, trying to envelop the New St. Andrews Unified Command in a circle.
"Renegade Lions, break formation and hit the fast movers!" Tyrine McCaig, Kristoffer's second-in-command, quickly deployed the reserve battalion to answer Narvosk's maneuver. "Do not let them close! Repeat, do not let them close!"
Two companies comprised of medium and fast heavy 'mechs broke away from the main body and ran down the Commonwealth's lighter 'mechs. High-speed shooting contests started right after Tyrine's companies left the main formation. Missiles zipped back and forth, then lasers and Gauss slugs filled in the lulls between reloads.
The Commonwealth fast 'mechs sprinted to quickly close the circle so they could trap Kristoffer's regiment in the center. But Tyrine's two companies harassed them from behind, peppering their thin rear armor with missiles and lasers. They had no other choice but to halt their advance and turn to face their harassers. Tyrine's two companies immediately locked them in a fierce firefight, exemplified by dazzling shows of lasers, muzzle flashes, missile traces, and explosions.
Kristoffer could always rely on Tyrine to secure his rear. He knew he could focus on the main Commonwealth 'mechs up front without fear of being overrun from behind. And that was just what he did. He picked up a massive Albatross within the Commonwealth's rank and let his Gauss rifle make an opening statement. The Albatross' torso showered with sparks as the 95-ton 'mech veered left. Its thick armor absorbed the impact without gouging the delicate machinery inside, but the impact was staggering enough to make the assault 'mech reeling off its course.
Kristoffer's shot served as his unspoken command to open fire. Hundreds of missiles, laser, and particle bolts leapt from their tube to paint the dark sky like a rainbow, then stabbed the Commonwealth row with ferocity matching its brilliant display. Fiery mushrooms burgeoned at each direct hit, clawing and melting armors into ferro-fibrous shards.
But the Commonwealth 'mechs weathered the first storm with dignity, then unleashed their answer. Kristoffer's rank wobbled hard as murderous firepower hammered his line, a combination of armor-piercing shells, lasers and particle bolts, and missile batteries. The tanks and missile carriers inflicted damage just as much as the Battlemechs. Droplets of molten armor and splinters from ripped chassis rained down over a large area. Battlemechs strained to maintain formation, even more so than their adversaries they hit not a minute ago.
The Albatross, aided by two LRM carriers, struck back at Kristoffer like a wounded animal. Its ER large laser easily found home on the Daishi's left torso, and the 15-pack missiles joined forces with the LRM carriers to flog the Clan Omnimech from every direction. The 100-ton Omnimech was forced to step back, and although it didn't buckle under the assault, the loss of armor sent it twisting helplessly before Kristoffer retook full control of his 'mech.
This gave Kristoffer a bitter realization that his soldiers could not stand a shoot out against the Commonwealth army. They were up against a well-organized fighting force almost three times the size of his army that was defending its home. He needed something radical, something flashy to pierce the Commonwealth's heart to deliver a crippling blow.
"Tyrine, take The Alpha Dogs, The Swords, and The Dragon's Teeth companies to attack Narvosk's left wing!" Kristoffer laid out his plan. "Bleed their left flank!"
"Left wing?" Tyrine's snarl followed her voice through the comlink. "But you're offering our sixes for their right wing! You're putting most of our 'mechs in their crossfire!"
"Trust me, I'm not!" Kristoffer replied as he steered his Daishi to trade fire with the Albatross which had cockily marched forward. "Just do what I say! You'll be fine!" The he turned to his battle armor squads. "Hell Jumpers, attack the Narvosk armor assets! I want them neutralized before the Albatross falls!"
The Hell Jumpers, made up of nine light armored platoons and one trinary of RogueBear heavy infantry, were more than a match against Narvosk tanks and missile carriers. The Nighthawk, Kobold, and Gray Death Scout battle armors swarmed the LRM and SRM carriers like fire ants defending their nest. The missile carriers fired everything they had, but the lack of real anti-infantry weapons made them sitting ducks against the fury of the battle armors. Within minutes all missile carriers had stopped firing. New St. Andrews battle armor units either destroyed the carriers or burned the crews inside.
The Rogue Bears took the brunt of Narvosk armor firepower and stood fast against the tanks, firing their missiles and lasers in rapid successions. Narvosk first line quickly buckled under the assault, but the second row regrouped and hit back with strafing shots using missiles and LBX cannons. Limbs and weapons flew in every direction as the stray shots chewed up the Rogue Bears. Half of the heavy battle armors fell under the onslaught, and the rest began pulling back.
The tanks gained confidence and pushed forward, but not for long. The Nighthawk, Kobold, and Gray Death Scout battle armors didn't let their Rogue Bear compatriots took all the heavy shots. They swarmed the tanks from behind, ripping hulls and burning the crews inside their armored rides. Machine guns and pulse lasers blitzed and raged out of control, but for the Narvosk tanks, nothing made a difference anymore. The field was shrouded with smoke and screams as the New St. Andrews armored troops broke the backbone of Narvosk armor assets.
The victory on the lesser front gave Kristoffer a morale boost as he closed the gap with the Albatross. His Gauss rifle spat out another round, sending the supersonic slug straight at the Albatross' heart. The 95-ton 'mech keeled over, and its bulky front armor snapped into several parts. A sinister chuckle escaped Kristoffer's lips as his thumb grazed the trigger for his triple pulse lasers, impatiently waiting for the reticule to burn gold.
But Kristoffer's onslaught would have to wait. The Albatross came back and smothered the Daishi with lasers and missiles. The AMS picked up half of the missiles but the lasers struck the Daishi's midsection unabated. Another layer of armor turned to slag, and although the Daishi still had plenty of layers, giving away armor to the 95-tonner could be catastrophic in the long run. It was the truth Kristoffer wished he didn't have to admit.
Just as his crosshair turned to bright yellow, Kristoffer let go of his pulse lasers. The triple cannons burst in volley fire, but even then it was enough to dump enormous waste heat into the cockpit. Kristoffer felt as if his skin peeled off his flesh. But his lasers struck home; the Albatross' torso glowed in red, and globules of molten armor sprayed into the air. The big 'mech started losing its footing and stepped backward, twisting slightly to the right to cover its damaged front.
The Albatross' own pulse lasers answered Kristoffer's, and it was the Daishi's turn to turn red. The Albatross' LBX cannon roared and depleted-uranium pellets slapped the molten armor, sandblasting the left side of the Omnimech and involuntary twisted it more sideways. Missiles followed suit, shredding the armor on the Daishi's left torso. Kristoffer's neurohelmet busted the canopy as his Omnimech rocked under the assault. It almost reminisced the time when one of his eyes was swept by a hailstorm of plexiglass shards when his canopy exploded.
Putting his 'mech into a reverse, Kristoffer realigned his crosshair at the Albatross' abs and pumped out his SRM6s. A dozen dumbfire missiles whizzed in a sea of white smoke, more than half of which ground the remaining armor on the Albatross' center torso. His Gauss slug buried itself into the craters on the front side. The Albatross staggered as sparks poured out from the canyon-like cracks. Kristoffer overrode the shutdown sequence and showered the Albatross with laser bolts. A bright fireball snapped the Albatross into pieces, and the remains crumbled in a plume of black smoke.
"Nobody outshoots a Daishi!" Kristoffer breathed, letting overheated steam hiss out of his 'mech. He observed the battlefield, getting a feel where everybody stood against the Commonwealth's lines. The Hell Jumpers were wrapping up, and they were stood under his command at the ready. His reserved battalion was deadlocked in a fierce exchange with Narvosk fast 'mechs. Nothing seemed to gain any ground at the rear side. And Tyrine McCaig led the New St. Andrews main power to crash into the Commonwealth's left wing.
As an ex-bloodnamed Jade Falcon commander, Tyrine brought the Clan's doctrine of war into the field: hit hard and fast from range. Her maneuvers were so swift that the Narvosk left wing buckled before firing a single round. The Narvosk high commands were left with none but one choice: to reinforce the left wing with 'mechs from the right.
And that was what Kristoffer was waiting for. As more and more Narvosk mechs poured to the left to ease Tyrine's pressure, the right wing weakened. There was a slight hole in their defense as the right wing continued to spread thinner and thinner. At the end of the hole lied his prize: the Narvosk command lance.
"Charge them! Now!" Kristoffer roared as he put his Daishi into full throttle. His command company – minus Tyrine – responded with a daring thrust right at the heart of the right wing. The Narvosk forces' right wing put up a heavy resistance, but there were too much ground to cover. They were pushed back to the brink of total disarray.
As his company split and tore up the Commonwealth's defense formation, Kristoffer sprinted as fast as his 'mech could, almost unadulterated, toward the center command of the Narvosk army. A lumbering Fafnir, escorted by two Awesomes and a Mauler, greeted him. At first Kristoffer's odds looked grim, but the odds were not as bad as it looked. His Daishi was a close-quarter brawler. All were traditionally ranged Battlemechs, except that the Fafnir carried two LBX-20s instead of the normal twin Heavy Gauss rifles. If he could get inside the minimum range of the PPCs and LRMs, all he cared was the Fafnir.
But in a somewhat strange twist of fate, the Awesomes and Mauler stepped back, leaving the Fafnir standing face to face against his Daishi. His com link beeped, a sure sign he was being hailed. Kristoffer established the link, and the face of the Fafnir mechwarrior popped up in his screen. Nothing much could be drawn from the face since it was buried under the neurohelmet, but Kristoffer could see his eyes. They twinkled with excitement.
Kristoffer had heard snippets about him, a man known only by The Gladiator. A somewhat disturbed individual who regarded the battlefield as his playground, he was famous of treating bloodshed like a game, which he could easily do considering the walking fortress he was riding. That justified his moniker, and that just made Kristoffer sick.
"A worthy foe at last," The Gladiator commented in a deep, confident voice. "How about it, Chap? CEO to CEO, let's forget the rest of the stupidity and finish this like true warriors. The winner takes the field. The loser goes to Hell itself."
"Bargain well and done, asshole!" Kristoffer replied curtly, using Clan parlance as a means to epitomize the different views between them. While The Gladiator saw it as a game, Kristoffer regarded it as a sacred ritual that determined the lives and deaths of his men. "Hell Jumpers! Keep the Awesomes and Mauler busy! I don't want to take pot shots from them!"
The Gladiator drew first blood. Its heavy large lasers flashed twin beam of light, burning a slab of Ferro-Fibrous armor off the Daishi's right torso. Then a massive LBX-20 cannon roared, and another slab of armor disintegrated, scattering a cloud of shards into the air. The impact and the loss of mass sent the Daishi lurching to the left, and only Kristoffer's quick reflexes saved it from being toppled over entirely.
Not to be outdone, Kristoffer launched his lasers in cascaded shots. While his bolts strafed the wide torso of the Fafnir, he lined up his crosshair with its right LBX cannon. The Gauss slug crashed into the weakened armor, sending the massive 'mech reeling, but the Fafnir was basically a walking castle. The attack didn't seem to hurt it in the slightest.
The Fafnir fired its other LBX cannon, and Kristoffer felt a sharp sting on his neurohelmet as the sub-munition pierced the armor deep into the engine block. Gear oil seeped from the bad gash on the right side of the Daishi. Oil pressure plummeted out of control, and the computer gave him a ten-minute deadline before the oil drained out.
The sense of urgency pumped adrenaline into Kristoffer's veins. His heart drummed in his ears as his missiles charged the Fafnir, hammering the junction where the LBX gun merged with the right torso. Pieces of armor fluttered between laser beams from the triple pulse cannons. The Fafnir's right side turned into melted mess of warped armor.
But the Daishi had reached critical heat level, and Kristoffer couldn't afford getting shut down. He made a violent right turn, exposing his relatively fresh armor at the Fafnir, seconds before its counter attack crashed into him. The double heavy lasers weakened the armor for the LBX munitions, and the result was devastating. The structures caved in, crushing heat sinks and coolant reservoir. Green liquid mixed with black slime to create a greenish sludge that dripped like blood.
Kristoffer grabbed hold of his joystick amidst alarm blasts, keeping his 100-ton Omnimech on its feet after losing a lot of armor. The twin LBX20 sandblasted his rear armor, and his 'mech could not afford another shot like that. He had to finish the fight quickly. He overrode the shut down sequence, flushed half of his coolant to force temperature drop, then fired his Gauss rifle at the Fafnir's right torso. A twisted scream of metal reverberated as the silver metallic ball buried itself in the structure of the Fafnir's right torso, right underneath the cannon. The Fafnir twisted, exposing its wounded torso at Kristoffer. Groaning from the excessive heat, he sent his short-ranged missile straight at the opening. The cannon burst into flames, and the Fafnir's right arm came off spiraling in the air before hitting the Mauler on its leg.
The Fafnir took a step back to get steady, then launched an alpha strike. Kristoffer had a second to twist left, and did just that. His right side was just as mangled as his left, but if he had to sacrifice his weapons to survive, he chose not to lose his Gauss rifle. His right arm took the brunt of the onslaught, and unfortunately, it was too weak to hold. Laser bolts and depleted-uranium sub-munition hammered the barely existed armor. Tongues of fire burst as the actuators were crushed. Shredded myomer bundles poked out of the wound, bleeding sparks and smoke.
It was hard to get a grip on reality when his 'mech threw his head around the cockpit. Kristoffer's neurohelmet slammed into the cockpit walls in rapid succession. His console went haywire, screaming unintelligible warnings amidst the sound of twisting metals and hissing steam. Everything he saw doubled in numbers; there were two Fafnirs in front of him, and there was no telling which one was the mirage of the other. Counter attack would only waste precious ammunition, so Kristoffer held his joystick hard, weathering anything the Fafnir would throw next.
But instead the Fafnir recoiled, turning away from the Daishi and boxed it in a circle run. The alpha strike must have been hard on its heat tracker, and The Gladiator couldn't risk a shut down, not at this stage of the duel. It was a wise decision at the wrong time, because for any no-attempt thrown at his face, Kristoffer was ready to make him pay. And he would make him pay dearly.
Shrugging off the headache, Kristoffer thumbed his Gauss trigger, placing the slug right under the right cannon, the spot he had been peppering since the start of the duel. The armor gave in, the structure breached, and the ammo feeder tore. Kristoffer sent his missiles right at the gaping hole, incinerating the remaining shells. The magazine exploded, throwing the cannon several dozen meters up the air. The entire torso sheared off at the seam. The top-heavy Fafnir quickly succumbed to the ground, despite The Gladiator's best effort to keep it standing.
The Daishi marched, triumphantly, toward the struggling Fafnir. With a single nudge the Fafnir fell down, flat on its back. Kristoffer stepped on the left torso, pinning it to the ground, and cranked up his external speaker to maximum volume. "Cheer up, Old Chap. Hell's not such a bad place. You're gonna love it." With that, he crushed the Fafnir's cockpit under his feet.
The fall of their commander quickly destroyed the morale of the Narvosk RCT. It only took them minutes to turn around and flee, giving the New St. Andrews regiment a full control of the field. Sporadic skirmishes still raged between the New St. Andrews 'mechs and some Narvosk Mechwarriors who chose to go down in flames, but they didn't last very long.
"Damage report! Damage report!" Kristoffer called for sitrep.
"We got fierce resistance but we hold on just fine," Tyrine quickly responded. "The main combat group lost 17 'mechs, there's twice as many in critical shape. The Renegade Legion fares better, only 8 losses and 20 in bad shape. Total warrior casualty is still unknown, but I reckon 30-percent is fairly close. On the good side, this plain is ours."
"Set up perimeter defense. We camp here tonight," Kristoffer ordered. "Call the Conquistador dropships. I want all the critically damaged 'mechs out of the field in six hours. And get the salvage team down on the double. Let them have a field day among the remains of the Commonwealth machines."
"Copy that," Tyrine replied, sternly as usual, but then came back with a more soothing voice, "Are you all right?"
"Never better," Kristoffer leaned back and basked in his torn cockpit. "Never better."