Chapter 13
April 25nd, 3025
Camp Bow Wow
Gimli Continent
Suk II
The reunion back at the camp had been bittersweet, at best. Heartbreaking at worst. When they got close enough for radio contact, everyone seemed relieved at the other end. When everyone arrived in person, almost all the survivors of what had been called "The Langley Affair" had nearly collapsed out of physical and mental exhaustion.
The heat had been a cruel, unwanted companion, with steam drifting through the jungle along the paths they previously stomped through. It seemed like the mist from the early morning dew evaporating carried the whispers of unavenged ghosts. Mist seeking justice for what had been done. Every hover truck that displaced the heavy steam only saw it gather again to haunt the next truck behind them. It was if they blamed their former comrades more than their enemies. Why didn't we have the right to know what was going to happen? Emily thought upon arrival.
Any good Soldier, Dragoon, Marine, Aerospacer, or whatever your calling was knew that "you just knew what you knew and went with that." But to finally get a good chunk of the overall picture after it happened really made anyone who served anyone else begin to question the point of it all. Emily was certainly questioning herself. Her ability to lead, her choices. Why they got into this business for themselves in the first place.
The gruesome foursome was now down to three, and she still wasn't sure who was going to take Kang's place as XO. For now, it only seemed reasonable that it should go to Pearl, the Mother Hen of this gaggle. It didn't help she wasn't nearly as war-weary as the other two were, so it gave her a chance to warm up as well as give Emily and Martin a rest. Martin didn't really care as much for top-level echelon stuff. He was content with leading his lance and that was it. But the ongoing traces of a relationship between Emily and Pearl needed to be addressed, to avoid the dissention in the ranks that comes with the rumors of favoritism.
More things that came with warfighting that Emily just didn't have the energy for, right now.
J.J., their liaison, was almost completely silent on the entire two-day ride back to camp. He had to get a ride on one of the cargo hovertrucks they got on loan from the RoughRiders, in exchange for some of their captured equipment back that was still at the camp. He offered what was left of his Panther as scrap or spare parts, but Emily politely refused. She'd find a way to get it back up and running again.
For now, she agreed to leave the surviving 'mechs at Firebase Yankee, under RoughRider guard. There was a side-bet between her and Martin that some of the 'mechs will have some kind of graffiti on it by the time they got back. She didn't blame anyone. The wounds of fighting each other were still too fresh, merely days old. Everyone was doing their job on either side, but one doesn't get over the loss of their comrades so quickly, if ever. Hopefully nothing happened between the Coyotes
When they all pulled in and shut down their fans to rest on the semi-soft dirt. Emily got out of the truck and called for everyone who wasn't on watch. The newly refurbished Mongoose stood over them currently powered-down. Rechristened as the "Battle Maiden," to honor the pilot's life it had helped take over a month ago. It's new pilot, Torres, stood with his neurohelmet under his arm, now freshly recalibrated to his new 'mech. He smiled sadly at Emily as everyone came from the other bivouacs spread out over a six kilometer area. "She's ready, Major. Ready as she'll ever be. Still feels like Maiden's there when I took it for a test drive yesterday." He said, wearing only a pair of shorts and boots, his cooling vest already tucked inside the cockpit.
Every MechWarrior had different habits when it came to getting to their 'mech and getting battle-ready as fast as possible. Some had even stranger superstitions. Being in the 'mech responsible for killing one of your comrades, friends, sometimes even loved ones can be spooky enough that even dispossessed MechWarriors wouldn't even touch it. They would rather have broken wings and not fly, than fly with fresh new wings they thought were cursed. Some people just needed time to grieve properly or find themselves again, before something else came along they could take over.
Most MechWarriors never even got a second chance to pilot again. Torres knew his opportunity was rare, so he sucked it up and took it. He would have rather had the Griffin, but it still wasn't ready, and beggars can't be choosers.
Emily simply offered a smile and an "I'll bet. Excuse me, Corporal," to Torres and went to her tent to sit down for a minute before everyone arrived. She threw her gear in the corner to finally read the folded up, sweat-stained pages of what one of the RoughRider techs was kind enough to print out for her. The list of repairs needed to make her company whole again.
Valkyrie VLK-QF ID:721 replace left arm, left torso, repair sensors, repair standard gyro, repair left leg, replace armor on everything but the right arm.
Shadow Hawk SDH-SD ID 722: Replace heat sink (left arm, left leg, center torso, left torso, right torso) repair communications antennas (head) repair jump jet (rear, left and right torso), replace armor—she didn't bother with that laundry list, it was basically all of it. At least all the weapons were functioning.
Javelin JVN-10F ID 723: Tarzan's 'mech. I told him to get off the roof. Repair Sensors. Well that's something at least.
Urbanmech UM-R60 ID 724: Replace left arm repair, left leg, repair sensors, replace small laser. Complete armor replacement. I'm sure she's fine, but everyone's starting to think of Nymph as the scrappy big sister of the pack. Hope nothing else happens to her.
Spider SDR-5D ID 725: Replace jump jet, replace left arm, replace upper arm actuator, replace lower arm actuator, replace hand actuator, replace myomer bundles, left arm, replace armor, left arm, left torso, left torso (rear), repair sensors. Coulda gone worse, she thought, considering the spider was one of the lightest 'mechs in her force and thus the least protected. Ironic that a 'mech with 8 jump jets had damage to none, while many others lost as many as half of them in that explosion.
Falcon FLC-4N ID 727: Repair 180 fusion engine, repair left arm, repair right arm, replace jump jet (rear left torso). Entire armor replacement. Inspect/replace cockpit parts as needed.
She avoided reading the last mech, knowing what was there. The other two Fire Javelins were virtually untouched. With the addition of Mother Hen's "Flock" Lance, including Hen's Trebuchet, Firefly and two Firebees, plus the Mongoose back in working order, still gave the Coyotes a serviceable force to offer someone on-planet. The MRB frowned on any mercenary group offering their services with less than a lance of four 'mechs, armor, artillery, or just about anything mechanized in general. You could go solo or less than a lance off the books, but that was generally stuff out in the Periphery, the edges of the Inner Sphere, where under-the-table work was generally more accepted.
But that might leave you with a knife in your back. There weren't many resources available to enforce most of the common laws seen throughout this portion of the galaxy, when you were so far from the center of human civilization.
She left the last 'mech unread and went outside. Just about everyone had arrived, a few more to go. She looked over at pearl, her hands behind her back, her cooling vest also stowed away in her Treb's cockpit. Emily always wondered how people were able to get their vests on once you were already sitting in your cockpit, surrounded by controls on all sides. She'd seen some people standing up or hunched over putting it on, but for her it only slowed her down. It helped that Pearl was almost a head shorter than most people these cockpits were designed for. A whole head shorter than Emily, as well.
She had even suggested they try a rendezvous in her the cockpit of her Shadow Hawk, but needless to say they were unsuccessful. Though savoring the memory of that attempt and all the bumps and bruises that came with it she watched her soon-to-be-XO rally everyone up with a little more hustle than before, now that their CO and paycheck-signer-in-chief was in view once more.
Walking up to Pearl's side, her hands also behind her back as a gesture of mutual respect, she asked "How many are left?" Emily could see it in her eyes she wanted nothing more than to throw those arms around her. She could have lost me.
"Five more coming from the southern loot bivouac. ETA three minutes."
"You sure you're up for this?" Emily asked softly.
"You know I was more ambitious than Danek ever wanted to be. Besides, I can't let you get too far ahead of me, now can I?" They both smiled sadly at that one. Too soon, she thought. Pearl had had more time to make peace with what Emily was asking her before they saw each other again in person. She was going from watching three other people to upwards of forty, minus the handful of techs that were caught in the explosion. And…Rhys. Chrome. Our buddy. The funny one. None of us were that good at being the funny one if he wasn't around.
Her mind wandered for a moment as the sound of the last hovertruck coming from the south reached their ears. Could we open ourselves up for someone else to enter their little pack? Could they? Would it feel right? It sure didn't feel good right now. I feel like an asshole for even thinking about it. We haven't even had a proper sendoff. Emily perked up slightly as she had a better idea what the evening will hold for the Coyotes. They had earned it.
Finally, as the last of the men and women gathered and she was able to address them all at once, she paced in front for a bit as Pearl looked on from the side. The Coyotes had established a rough box-shaped formation on a regular basis, like most military formations go. Even the techs, their doctor, the admins, and a couple of medics fell in with them, though off to one side. Despite their losses, their numbers were close to the same as when she first addressed them on Hesperus II.
"Everyone, we have good news and bad news. First, the bad. Everyone wants the bad news first. We lost several good people on our last mission." She proceeded to give the rundown on how everything went for the next few minutes. Everyone present already knew who had died, but to hear the full story from their commander was a totally different beast. Emily decided to lead off with the biggest punch and soften it from there. "And yes, we're down six techs, one Enforcer, and your XO, Rhys Kang, was killed in the explosion. Our friend," she said, gesturing to Pearl and Martin, "And several of yours from what I've learned. They will all be missed and will be given equally fair severance packages to their families. That's the next thing on my list, and nothing else official happens until then.
"Nymph, Ifrit, and McCintock, now known as callsign Granite, are in the field hospital at Firebase Yankee. They are not being held prisoner and will be returned to active duty status when their injuries heal. McCintock might have permanent spinal damage, but it's possible the docs can save him. Keep your fingers crossed for good news. They've probably finished surgery by now, and we'll know how he's doing soon.
"As to what the hell happened to our contract, and what happens next. Our official contract with the Combine is now cancelled, based on circumstantial evidence we've compiled." She gestured to J.J., who was stone-faced off to the side of their formation. Out of respect, he also stood at parade rest along with the rest of the Coyotes. "Captain J.J., or Sho-sa Junnosuke as his proper name and rank, was with us in the fighting. In the thick of it. He helped rescue trapped survivors and walked his Panther into the ground to stay with us during the march to Firebase Yankee. He was far too close to the blast to have known about it prior to the engagement. If there's any thought of the possibility of him being complicit in 'The Langley Affair,' kill it right now. His word is as good as gold to me at this point.
She continued pacing. "Whatever commandos are out there, Combine or otherwise, knocked out over a half a dozen water treatment plants and killed over a thousand people, including six of ours. Them, and whoever hired them or ordered their actions are the ones responsible. After we honor the dead and get our company back up to fighting strength, we'll start looking for answers of our own. I promise you that." Enthusiastic nods went around the formation, including J.J.
Emily finally stood still and turned to them. Whew, that part's over. She took a deep breath. "Now for the good news. There isn't nearly as much, but we're mercenaries, and we fight with what we have. I've been told there's an envoy from the Planetary Militia en route to offer us a standard garrison contract based on our remaining forces . More than likely it'll be closer to civilization, and the climate is slightly nicer than waking up with a Jinxy next to your sleeping bag." Almost everyone laughed at that, but she was sure one or two had less-than-nice experiences waking up with a dog-sized lizard that wasn't scared of humans yet staring them in the face.
"Since our old contract ended prematurely and under the possibility of our employer being guilty of a war crime, there are no bonuses per the contract. But Clothesline, Mother Hen, and I, have pooled together most of our cut from this contract to give you the same bonuses you were promised." This brought a chorus of cheers that would have shaken the windows at a spaceport, and Emily allowed herself this one guilty pleasure of letting it last a little longer than normal. Finally, she waved them to silence. "We can't guarantee this every time, because we'd like to go home with something in our pockets at the end of the day too after this garrison, but this will have to do for now."
"Coyotes, we've been through hell together in the last two months, and we've sure as hell earned some R&R, so here's what I propose. We all knew what we signed on for, and that any of us might not be standing here tomorrow, so let's enjoy tonight and toast our fallen brothers and sisters until we can't remember our own damn names!" She pulled out the hip flask she had hidden in her cargo pocket and held it high. "Who's with me?"
Almost half the group, including J.J. with a smile, pulled out whatever hooch they had on hand and held them up, while all of them let out the high-pitched howl of the coyote. Shortly after, as everyone began celebrating, Emily asked Martin and Pearl to join them in her tent as she pulled out the sheet of paper with the line Enforcer ENF-4R ID:725. Total loss, recommend salvage all remaining parts. Then they all tinked their flasks together to toast their friend to Valhalla. And howled. A lot.
