The following is a lengthy work in process. Additional chapters will be loaded as I proofread them. Take the time to review and/or email me with comments. Technical criticism is welcome as I no longer have any of my canon sourcebooks. Chapter 2 is the unit roster (accurate to pre-operation) to help people sort out the various characters, since I focus so much on Vance. I hope you enjoy this work. - JSP
[INTRODUCTION]
Ripples formed around the edges of the pool. Again. Again. They were increasing in frequency now. Gregor could feel the vibrations... thud.... Thud.... Thud.... THUD.... Now he could hear it. A slamming, crunching sound, coupled with slight squeaks as brambles and green trees brushed against metal. Leaves were swept away with a snakelike hissing sound, and drawing nearer. Crouched under the piece of twisted metal, and waist deep in icy cold water filling the depression under the refuse, Gregor waited... motionless. He was out of options, and dozens of men and women were depending on him.
The cacophonous noise drew to an abrupt halt. The whirring of servomotors and the screaming of metal joints moving broke the silence abruptly. Gregor bent at the waist to look at his opponent. Most mechs looked vaguely humanoid, but this one did not. The reverse knee joints and the hands, which were replaced with paired barrels of some kind of heavy caliber laser, gave it an inhuman, predatory look, and not the look of a human opponent. Massive missile racks on either side of the crest dwarfed the main torso, giving the 'mech a hunched posture that could only be described as burdened. A Vulture. Clan technology. It scanned left to right, doing a thorough sensor reading. Suddenly the mech swiveled its torso and pointed its left arm directly at the chunk of debris Gregor was using as cover.
He didn't even think - he just dove. The explosion just behind him propelled him forward as his hiding spot instantly became a mass of molten metal and vaporized earth. He slid down a shallow ravine, out of control, slamming into small rocks and trees. The mud was thick on his body by the time he came to a stop far from his original location. He checked himself and found only small fragmentary wounds. He had been lucky - and quick. Luckily he still had his launcher, somehow he had managed to hold onto it through his fall. He flicked the safety off and picked himself up.
The slamming of the mech's feet alerted him to its arrival. The mech executed a leap over the hill and into the middle of the ravine. The impact resounded crisply and made Gregor's heart jump. He heard the servomotors whine as the mech aligned itself and resumed the search. He knew that he needed to take the offensive, put the mech on the run - make it play his game. But he couldn't just step out, the mech would fry him. He needed a diversion. Every second brought the angry giant closer to his location.
From behind his tree, he drew out a flash grenade, pulled the pin, and let fly. The flash might override the sensors on the mech and the pilot's brain via the neurohelmet. Hopefully the pilot had the viewfinder at maximum intensity as well to better detect him and would be stunned. He counted... one, two, WHAM! Shielding his eyes from the flash, he rounded the corner and shouldered his launcher. The mech was staggering to the side, stunned. He must not have had anti-infantry training, thought Gregor, smiling wickedly. Aiming high, at the missile racks, he squeezed off a round and felt the reassuring blast of hot air wash over his neck and back as the munition ignited and streaked towards the mech.
The inferno round shattered just before striking the mech, splattering the burning gel on the left torso missile rack. The napalm clung to the mech like a fiery demonic parasite. Gregor knelt to chamber his last round. The mech staggered under the intense heat, then suddenly bore down on him. He saw the missile rack door fly open, twenty rockets were poised to rain death down on him. He leapt sideways and cartwheeled behind a tree, hitting the ground running. The missiles barked behind him, slamming into the ground and rending foliage. Waves of heat washed over him, fragments dug into his armor and flesh, yet he ran on till the onslaught ceased, diving for cover behind an earthen mound. Gregor drew a breath from behind the clump of earth and forced himself to think. The pilot must be risking heat problems. The laser barrage on his hiding spot, the launches, and the burning napalm should have been enough for immediate reactor shutdown. This pilot was vulnerable, and the cockpit was the way to do it.
"You're gonna fry pal." said Gregor as he suddenly stood up, aimed his launcher, and depressed the trigger. He aimed for the cockpit, but the mech twisted sideways while moving towards him and the round struck right, onto the missile rack that had closed just moments before. The gel splattered all over the right side, turning the 'mech into a moving pyre. Trees near it burst into flames as it drew near, waves of heat washing over the clearing, leaves curling and smoldering... yet it came on. Pulses of laser light impacted a scant meter from Gregor as he dodged left, vaporizing rock and clay and flora. Shrapnel blew Gregor backwards, shredding his armor and clothing and knocking the launcher from his hands. He slammed headfirst into a tree and became wedged between the double trunk. He could taste blood, feel his ribs crackle, he knew he had serious wounds. He had lost, but he forced himself to painfully draw his sidearm with his free hand. The mech had come near him, towering over him, mocking him. Gregor fired, again and again glancing rounds off of the cockpit transparisteel. Click. Empty. He had lost.
The mech lowered its arms, static energy crackled in the moist jungle air as arm mounted lasers rained death down on him. A funeral was not given, or needed, for all that remained was ashes.
______________________________________________________________________________
Redon turned his Vulture southward, sweat pouring off his forehead, stinging his eyes. The temperature in the cockpit was unbearable. The gel burned with a ferocious intensity. The heat rose slowly. Redon found his breath coming in short gasps. The air was too hot to breathe and not fresh at all. Each inhale felt like breathing fire. But it didn't matter. He had killed the sapper hadn't he? The man had put up a good fight too... and Redon so loved a good fight. He gasped and choked. He had to get air, cool air. He reached for the release on the cockpit seal and swore loudly as his hand hissed, severely burned. Blisters had already formed and bloody fluid trickled down to his fingertips. The gel would go out soon. He just needed to hold out. If his mech had hand actuators he could've smothered the gel with mud... but he had wanted more firepower. A serious error, and one he would correct in the future... ______________________________________________________________________________
But there would be no future for Redon. A split second later, the gel on the left torso, ironically nearing the end of its burn cycle, finally had an effect. The number eight missile detonation circuit melted shut, and the missile detonated, igniting the entire rack and ammunition storage bin, blowing the left torso free and blasting fragments into the fusion core and surrounding forest. The breach of the core caused a full meltdown as plasma held in containment suddenly had an escape, blowing the entire mech and clearing into a cloud of burning vapor and metal, the shockwave flattening trees in a large radius and leaving a permanent scar on the planet to mark the passing of the mechwarrior.