Chapter 37
South of the 2nd Legion landing zone
Emily pushed her Catapult up to a running speed while zig-zagging in her own lane of movement while attempting to keep up with the full-on charge being done by anyone against the 2nd Legion at the moment. She signaled everyone to move in at the fastest speed they could do pull off doing rapid jumps at an angle, torwards the newly rebuilt battle line surrounding the two Overlords.
Zig-zagging at this speed felt almost pointless, at the rate she was moving, but she did it anyway out of more habit more than anything.
Ahead and to her right, one of the legs of Mowgli's Fire Javelin was suddenly amputated at the hip in a pair of explosions, sending the limb sliding along the ground perpendicular to the direction it was going. He fell into the dirt with a hard crash, skidding forward more than a few meters.
A second later, two Rapier aerospace fighters screamed over the top of her, their glowing-hot AC-20 barrels each leaving a streak in her vision through her thermal optics.
"Mowgli, you okay?"
No answer. She lost sight of him as she passed, the loping stride of her Cat much more familiar to her now, despite the still-present dent in her left "ear."
Hoping he was alright but not having time to check it out, she did a quick check-up on the rest of her group. "Anyone else hurting from those fighters?" She asked, her voice starting to get ragged from the entire day's activities. Her hands felt like they were starting to shake from her blood sugar being too low. She hadn't eaten all day, and it was really catching up to her.
"Took some laser fire, but I think only Mowgli took their big guns. No response yet." Mother Hen didn't sound all that confident he was going to respond anytime soon. Either way, her attention was diverted rather quickly after that. "Coyotes, see that Hunchback, marked as beta? Light it up with LRM's!"
Emily answered in kind by slowing down slightly, enough for her crosshairs to float over the medium 'mech to get a lock, and she let loose with one of her last remaining vollies. A barrage of laser fire from several other 'mechs in the Draconis line were speared towards Ifrit and knocked both of his forearms off. He kept advancing, taking to the air as a small wave of missiles either struck him in the legs or missed completely.
In what seemed like a recreation of the aerial dance of the Trebuchet Emily had struck at, he eased up on his jump jets to regain stability in the air, putting as much thrust as he could on the downward portion of his arc. The legs of the Dervish went dangerously far apart, forward and backward, like he was about to do the splits on landing.
Before he could recover, several sizes of autocannon shells hit him square in the chest, simply shoving him backwards to the ground, as if the elaborate dance he had just pulled off was meaningless.
Meanwhile, the contrails from the missile barrage the Coyotes had just launched landed square on the backpedaling Hunchback, staggering him backwards until the pilot could withstand no more. Several small explosions were up around the boxy cockpit and suddenly, mid-barrage, it seemed like the pilot just gave up and the 'mech was shoved onto its back similarly to her Dervish just a second before.
"Nice shooting!" Emily hooted. "Ifrit, status?"
"I'll be up in a minute, Major. Mi culo está en llamas…" She checked her readout of friendly 'mechs and it showed there was a small electrical fire just behind his armor in his center torso. Then nothing, as the fire control systems must have taken care of it. Or at least where there used to be armor, she thought. Not exactly his ass on fire, but close enough.
"Next target! Marked Charlie. Panther. He's limping. Lock on, fire in five seconds." Mother Hen was directing all the outbound LRM traffic while Emily was directing general 'mech traffic. Everyone else was dead quiet for now.
Half a dozen people shouted "lock" in various forms of enthusiasm or fear, depending on how much fire they were receiving at the time. Romeo sounded the most nervous at this point, the last of the brothers still on his feet.
"Fire!" Emily was a half-step late but fired off her own half-volley at the stricken Panther. It was more than enough with the rest of the Coyotes, and its entire top half simply vanished as what was left of the belly and legs fell to the ground, the centerpiece of an unrecognizable pile of itself in the dancing grass.
A pile that was unceremoniously stepped all over as his comrades continued moving in and out of the front line.
"Dirk, Clothesline. They're boarding the dropships. I count a half-dozen lights so far on the near one."
"Copy." She switched to company comms again. "Coyotes, they're trying to bail out. I know we're beat to hell but we have to keep the pressure on. Everyone save one LRM salvo so we can use it on one of the Overlords. Do not go dry. Repeat, do not go dry on missiles yet."
"That leaves most of us with two or three vollies left, Dirk." Mother Hen seemed concerned and a little pissed off that she was taking away one of the last shots available to her.
"Coyote actual, Renegade actual." The most annoying voice on this planet couldn't have been more welcome at a time like this, Emily thought.
"You guys in range, Renegade? We're getting our asses kicked pretty hard and we're almost dry on ammo. Enemy 'mechs are attempting to board their dropships." She juked her 'mech to the right out of habit more than anything, and was rewarded when a few light autocannon shots bounced off her cockpit where dead-center used to be. They ricocheted into the closed missile door on her left ear, bouncing into the sky to places unknown like so many other unexploded rounds in this battle.
"Almost. We're coming up on your left flank in about twenty seconds."
"Roger, we have to back up a bit. We've been trading coordinated vollies back and forth, watch out for that. Dirk out."
"Renegade act—" she cut him off before he could do his pretentious signoff.
A Cyclops caught her attention as she throttled back up to full speed while pivoting. A stray missile caught her in her pivot leg, but it wasn't enough to push the sixty-five-tonner over or disrupt her balance this time.
"You two think that Cyclops is their commander?" Emily asked on her command channel.
"Probably," replied Mother Hen.
"It's a good 'mech to be leading a regiment from," came Clothesline's grunting voice as he continued his own juking and jiving.
"I don't think we have enough ammo left without our final volley to breach it," came Mother Hen, sounding skeptical. "Damn thing's huge."
Emily changed back to the joint channel for the Coyotes and Renegades. "All Coyotes, fall back two hundred meters. The Renegades are almost here. Save that last volley for something good. We think their commander's in that Cyclops. Don't fire on it early. It'll spook him." She said it more for the Renegades, who weren't doing the same target coordination they were. She throttled directly backward while pivoting to face the Draconis line once more.
A PPC shot punished her for being such an easy target, melting two of the heat sinks in her left torso. An alarm blared showing the damage, and she slapped a button to shut it up. A few arcs of electricity crawled around the edge of her cockpit and then faded away.
Several of the nearest Overlord's gun batteries were turning to fire on the Renegade line coming up on Emily's left flank, but one PPC battery was still trained on the Coyotes. Romeo's Fire Javelin was the next to fall, getting struck in mid-stride one after another right in the chest while attempting to dodge a small LRM volley. He crashed to the ground like a puppet no longer held by its strings.
"Ow. Shit. Helluva gunner on that dropship, Major." One of the few pilots to go down that actually didn't get knocked out or was presumed dead, Romeo's normally chivalrous tone was just plain worn out.
"Dirk, Clothesline. Another lance of little guys boarded. It'll take a few more minutes but we can't stop them all from getting out of here unless we come up with something different."
Shit. This isn't what we're good at. She hated being forced into this situation in the first place, hated LaPointe for talking her into it, hated herself for agreeing to it.
Mr. annoying voice cut in. "Renegades, move in and flank left. They're all running hot. Focus on this target." Her targeting system wasn't tied in with his 'mech's commands, so she could only presume he was giving his people something to shoot. Within seconds, the two lances of Renegades opened up with mostly small and medium bore autocannons, their specialty.
Their target apparently was a lightly-armored sixty-ton Quickdraw. Emily couldn't tell if it fell from the massive amount of fire suddenly aimed at it or if was already battle-damaged to hell and back, but it jerked backwards repeatedly and fell within another instant nonetheless. She forced a quick breath of relief and shook a kink out of her neck while she had the time.
Sweat trickled underneath the gap in her cooling vest while she adjusted, creating a cold, clammy sensation that ran down her whole spine.
"Coyotes, if you see a 'mech standing after the Renegades light it up, follow up and make sure it goes down. There's nothing left but big guys on the field. They might need us to finish it off. But save that last volley!" She continued backwards for a few dozen meters, unable to continue the assault in her 'mech's current condition.
As the real estate between all three forces to the south of the Overlords was cooked by stray shots, the amount of weapon fire began to decrease slightly. 'mechs on all sides were pushed to their heat limits, and everyone had fewer 'mechs in total. Some pilots opened up occasionally with a bigger burst, but it meant a longer pause in between their shots.
She was far back enough that most medium-range weapons were too far out from her, so she was able to take a better stock of how the fight was going. She quickly brought up a zoomed-in image of one of the ramps leading into the nearest Overlord. A Phoenix Hawk belonging to the 2nd legion was just clearing the doorway and getting inside. Its right shoulder had been cratered, the arm hanging limp by a few unlucky myomer strands left to hold the burden.
What was left of the red, gray, and white paint job on the Hawk looked more like a splotchy skin disorder at this point. Their insignia of a curled-up rat with a spiny back, holding a sword and a mask and something else Emily didn't recognize was burned away from this 'mech as it left her field of vision, running inside the dropship.
A quick head count of the horizon showed at least a dozen 'mechs, either the size of hers or larger, still holding the area around the south of the dropships. They were beginning to tighten their own circle for when their own time came to board.
The Coyotes had pulled back slightly, giving the Renegades more room to spread out.
"Dirk, Whisper here. The cavalry's here in two minutes. Can you hold out?"
"Unsure. We're beaten to hell over here. The Renegades are giving us some room, but we all have one volley left of our LRM's we're saving."
A brief pause. "New plan. We'll shift and come for your Overlord. We need to knock out two of its legs on the same side and it'll go over. We can't waste ammo on the armor plate. You're going to have to circle around to the east to get a clean shot at the other leg after we hit one."
She spat salty sweat. It sizzled on her cockpit's floor. "Roger. We'll move now." Switching back to her joint comms, she shouted, "new plan, everybody! We're all going for the nearest Overlord. The RoughRiders, too! Renegades, we need you to break off and join us moving east so we can get a good shot at the legs from there."
"Jesus Christ, Dirk. We just committed here!"
"I know, but they can't pursue us. Stay flexible, guys, let's go!"
"Renegades, move southeast in pairs. Cover each other and get out of range."
With that, she turned her 'mech to the east again and throttled to top speed as fast as her 'mech would let her. During that exchange, she hadn't even noticed Clothesline's Wolverine laying on the ground, crumpled and burning.
But she saw it now.
"Martin!"
No response.
She ran past his downed 'mech but was able to get a quick glimpse of him climbing out of the cockpit. "Clothesline's moving, but his Wolvie's down."
They barely had more than a functioning lance worth of firepower at this point. Nymph's Mongoose and one of their Firebees were all that remained of the entire company's worth of light 'mechs they started with less than six months ago.
To her right, Ifrit was back on his feet and running with them despite being down to his shoulder-mounted LRM-10, though she doubted he had much left to offer in ammo. Still, he was with them.
"We'll have this over with soon, guys. Hang in there." Emily didn't have much else to offer except encouragement from her own Cat with its single volley of LRM's left.
Under the shadow of the nearest Overlord, several of the larger 'mechs turned north to deal with the RoughRiders suddenly coming into their range. Gun batteries swiveled their direction as well, and Emily took the moment of peace to mark one of the six legs of the gigantic dropship. The afternoon sun shone on the armor plate sticking out to the side of them, giving it a bright yellow hue which cast a deep shadow on the leg itself, shielded behind it.
It was as clean of a shot as they were ever going to get.
"This is a good spot. Coyotes, hold and cover the Renegades. Get that last volley ready for this leg, she said over joint comms. Fire on my mark. Nobody fire early!" Then, "Whisper, Dirk. We're in position. Fire when ready."
LaPointe didn't respond directly, however the sight of almost a dozen 'mechs advanced to the Overlord opened up on the leg next to her target, closer to them. The armor stopped a lot of the shots, but several lasers and autocannon rounds got around or underneath it, sending shards of metal and streams of lubricant flying all around the stricken vessel.
The gunners aboard the ship fired frantically, as quickly as they could, realizing now their lives were in serious danger, but the sudden barrage disrupted their aim, sending waves of PPC fire into the dirt of the RoughRider line.
"Now!" Emily shouted. She brought her crosshairs over the untouched leg she had marked, and got a tone within seconds. She thumbed the trigger one last time, feeling the now-familiar rocking sensation as the Cat fired the last missiles it had.
Along both sides of her cockpit, the very last of the Coyote missiles, and multiple Renegade lasers and cannon shells whizzed by her. "Move, move!" she hollered, pivoting and throttling her Cat back up to a jog.
The missiles had a good shot. Most of them landed into the side knee-joint of the 'mech-sized leg holding a huge portion of the Overlord's weight. It attempted to compensate for the loss of balance, but RoughRider ordinance was still tearing apart the other leg on that side, despite losing several of their bigger 'mechs to the gunners of both dropships for the assault.
With a deep, soul-piercing groan, the massive dropship began to lean to the east. Suddenly, the engines fired as it attempted an emergency takeoff before it fell.
The RoughRiders didn't stop there. Nor did the Renegades. Both groups started in on another leg with everything they had left as the first two began to fully fail. Myomer muscles and actuators, both as thick as a human being began snapping with loud cracks, whipping back into the dropship's hull like an octopus trying to scratch an itch. Metal flew in every direction, the armor plates near them absorbing shrapnel from the wrong side it was intended for.
From just over the horizon, RoughRider dropships and aerospace began to fill parts of the sky as multiple Unions opened fire on the stricken vessel. The ship, having retracted its ramps for boarding 'mechs and closed the doors, attempted to lift off in a hurry.
Then one of the massive drive flares underneath the Overlord changed shape and color, turning into the bloom of an explosion underneath. A chain reaction began as artillery rounds, also the size of human beings, landed all along the lower portion of the dropship.
The drives cut out, and the ship continued to lean, until it fell to the ground in a rolling barrage of thunderclaps. The engines died as at least a hundred people and at least twenty of the lighter 'mechs were tossed around inside. Emily's own Catapult lost her balance against the tremors and eventually fell backwards, sending her back into her seat with a bracken view of the sky shrouded by tons of dust and dirt being kicked up by the fallen vessel.
As she got her bearings from being suddenly relocated several meters from where she just was, a voice she heard before but didn't recognize came over a public channel.
"Attention Suk II Planetary defenders. This is Sho-sho Oka Kuri, Commander of the 2nd Legion of Vega, and supporting forces." He sounded more tired than any human being Emily had ever heard in her life. Almost as tired as she felt.
"I wish to discuss terms of surrender."