Chapter 32
Mach 'Beh
Alshayra continent
Wes Anderson sat in front of his usual desk with his hair perfectly in place. His usual solemn demeanor took on a more interested look, as various field reporters in and around Paphos and the K-5 highway just west of Kevilston.
"Glad no one's hurt over there, Carrie. What's the property and vegetation damage out there?" The field reporter on the right half of the screen was crouched behind the top of a small ridge. Smoke rose in snaking trails behind her that looked like black tornados in an otherwise peaceful sky.
"Minimal at the moment, Wes. The 2nd Legion seem more interested in passing by as quickly as they can, making a beeline for the capitol. Residents of west Kevilston and south Mach 'Beh are advised to stay undergrou"—an aerospace fighter bolted past for a split second on the screen at an incredibly low altitude, and almost instantly the transmission was cut short by the sonic boom.
Her half of the screen went black, and Wes's eyes went wide for a split second. "We uh…seem to have lost Carrie. Let's hope she's okay. We're also getting reports from the south end of the capitol, where people have taken to widespread looting despite martial law in effect. Mark Bismark is with us from the south side, Mark?"
The image of Wes slid to the left, making way for Mark, standing in front of several broken-into shops on a street corner. "Wes, it's total chaos down here. It seems with the Combine forces just hours away from taking their steps inside the city limits, and the RoughRiders closing in as fast as they can, most residents in these southern neighborhoods have already written off the commercial areas like the one you see behind me. This is just one of hundreds of scenes playing out throughout the entire southern area. Kevilston seems to be in better straits, as the 2nd Legion announced no intention to occupy that city during the initial invasion. It's a mess over here in Mach 'Beh, though."
"Is anyone hurt over there, Mark?" Wes' head tilted from one side to the other. His viewers were no doubt buying into his genuine sincerity, or at least the illusion of it. Nobody could really be sure.
"Yes, several people caught in the looting have been rushed to nearby hospitals. At least two are confirmed dead on arrival, and a few dozen are injured. Mostly glass-breaking-related injuries, and one report of someone throwing their back out trying to loot too much at once."
"Thanks Mark. Stay safe out there." The screen then went completely dark as a series of explosions rocked the rooftop equipment on every major broadcasting station within a few seconds of each other like a rolling barrage across the city.
West of Kevilston, along highway K-5
Alshayra Continent
"Blacktual, Red Actual." OK, there's a limit to how much protocol I want to cut.
"Go for black actual." His voice was stern but sounded more like a croak after the several-hour march through the muggy temperature that none of them were currently acclimated to. They'd been on planet for no more than six hours after over a month in the stale, dry air recycled over and over in their various spacecraft.
Meanwhile, his aerospace assets, remaining on-planet for longer than expected were performing low-altitude flybys to keep anyone with surveillance equipment well away from his battalions. Thank the Coordinator they decided to stay. This was already bad enough as it was.
He already felt several kilos lighter. This was one of the times he was grateful he didn't have infantry to worry about. Even mechanized troops would be more exposed to the elements here, and unacclimated foot-sloggers would only slow him down after one good fight.
"Just passed India, now a hundred clicks from waypoint Javier. No sign of the Coyotes. ETA three hours, twenty minutes at this pace."
And then two more hours to get through the streets to Parliament Hall. "Roger Red. Will increase pace to about 35 kph unless we get more contacts to keep up with you. Will remain about five clicks behind."
"Roger, out."
"Attention Black battalion. Increase overall speed to thirty-five kph unless we make enemy contact." Kuri took another sip from his drinking tube over the left shoulder. A bead of sweat flicked off his chin and landed on the nozzle, semi-ruining the relief flowing down his throat. Ugh, I taste horrible. He didn't think any indigenous forest-crazies to his west were going to come looking for a meal, seeing as they were all wrapped up nicely behind layers of varying types of refined, custom-made alloys.
His mind wandered for another moment. A few moments of silence were the ultimate reward for upper echelon leaders in any military. He simply concentrated on increasing the rhythm of his Cyclops as he lumbered forward.
Over the general chatter he heard multiple lances moving their own rotation along to take care of any biological needs while on the move. Nobody had to get out, and thankfully the fusion reactors handled the incineration of any solids, while their water purification systems would take care of any liquid recycling. What it did require, though, was anyone not currently relieving themselves to take up about twice the normal field of fire they were used to in the meantime. Which meant some strained nerves, given the ambush they already ran into.
"Black actual, this is black-charlie-two."
"Go for actual."
"Message for you on secure channel alpha-five. Friendly mercenary commander in the area."
"Roger." He flipped over to the channel and introduced himself.
"Well helloooo, Sho-Sho. Or can I call you Colonel?" The voice sounded rather high on the pitch, slightly German, with about a mountain of snark. "This is General Ramone, of Ramone's Renegades."
"General? Aren't you supposed to have one company of 'mechs, at most?" He brought up his readout the agents on-planet had transmitted to him and saw a list of mostly medium and light 'mechs. Similar to the original Coyotes TO&E, except with some new additions from the Sandmen they defeated.
"Eh, two lances actually. Damn saboteurs knocked out an entire lance during The Langley Affair. We're due east about seven clicks."
"Affirmative. What are your intentions?"
"We remain on guerilla operations to disrupt defenders and caught wind of a company or two messing around in Paphos. We're gonna go get a better look once you pass by us."
"Affirmative. Try anything and we wheel back and claim what's left of your 'mechs for the Dragon. Anything else?" Kuri was getting annoyed at this man more rapidly than anyone on this planet thus far. And neither of them were even from this planet.
"Negative. Good hunting, Colonel. Sho-Sho. Whichever." The sound of background static cutting out gave Kuri some peace and quiet for another moment or two. Assuming the Coyotes don't show up again, but we gave 'em a good scare. Another six hours and we'll be in the city.
Of course, if the commandos hadn't screwed up so royally at Langley and apparently one more site, we wouldn't have had this much resistance. We should have taken the damn capitol by now. Frustration at his plan unraveling after almost two years of preparation due to things out of his control was taking its toll.
He reached again for the water valve and got a clean sip this time. And was promptly brought out of his moment of reverie by three more queued transmissions coming in simultaneously, updating the status of the front line. He sighed and went back to running a unit of dozens, backed by hundreds. Almost there. Just a few more hours left out of two whole years. Almost there…
Eastern Paphos Nature Preserve
Alshayra Continent
Suk II
J.J. brought his jeep to a skidding halt, turning up the volume on a Kevilston news report that allegedly showed two lances of mercenaries occupying the southern woods of the city limits, moving west. A cloud of fresh dust from his tires covered him and the radio. And everything else in the jeep.
Towards Paphos. Towards the Coyotes. As if an entire regiment wasn't enough of a problem!
He racked his brain, physically, pushing his head to either side gently while trying to remember the color scheme of green on darker green with a silhouette-breaking pattern of tiny dots. The Renegades. They had more damage from the Langley Affair at a larger treatment plant than Langley actually took and reportedly lost an entire lance from the blast. They were on the same standard guerilla operations contract the Coyotes had signed up for, and apparently were still on it.
If we could tell them about Alvarez's ties to this invasion before they engage Emily's forces, maybe they'd join up. It all depended on how hard of a sell J.J. and the Coyotes could give to the Renegades.
That last thought made him chuckle. "J.J. and the Coyotes. We sound like a band." Then, without the radio, he heard it. The unmistakable tremble of a 'mech's footfalls that began to get louder and made some of the smaller leaves above him vibrate so rapidly they barely appeared to move at all.
And they were getting louder. Please let that be them, he thought, as he throttled up, honking his rather dinky and annoyingly high-pitched horn. The vibrations stopped as he was likely picked up on someone's sensors just now, but it was lost in a symphony of various off-roading noises made by the jeep crashing up and down.
Over the next hill, he saw the familiar silhouette of the upper half of Danek's Wolverine, turned straight at him, weapons and all.
"Whoa there! Stop or we'll make you sto—J.J.?" Danek's voice never sounded better.
Further east…
Emily thought it was a bit silly to get out of a 'mech standing as tall as maybe seven or eight Emilies to get out and do recon work. But given her last peek over a ridge almost ended in her 'mech getting alpha struck by as much as an entire lance, she opted for the safer option.
Danek was doing some mounted recon in his Wolvie to the north and west, just in case they decided to circle around from up ahead.
She knew she didn't have to worry about infantry at this point, except for maybe the commandos, but they seemed limited to recon and saboteur work on the planet. She stood with some rather high-powered binoculars, watching the rear element gain distance between them near the main highway taking them towards the capitol. Kevilston stood ignored to the east as the entire regiment cruised on by. It still had a fantasy-like feel to it from this far away with some of the massive twisting trees still visible from here.
But it wasn't nearly as breathtaking as the view from above was. Feels like years ago, she thought.
Since their ambush, the 3rd Cav was reluctantly reassigned to helping with the riots in the southern portion of the capitol. She mourned their loss of a crew from earlier today, but really wished they were still here to actually present a credible threat to the Legion.
She shook her head in frustration. Just too damn many of 'em. The aerospace seems to be letting up, but we're running out of shaded real estate.
"Dirk, Clothesline here."
She put the radio clipped to her belt up to her ear. "Go for Dirk."
"You'll never guess who's back."
She paused for a moment. "The strippers for me and Pearl? No…wait…don't answer. I got this…"
He cut her off with a loud chuckle. "Nope. Our old Combine buddy who went on his own little private eye excursion. He came looking for us in a jeep and looks like he got his ass kicked more than once."
"J.J.?"
Before he could answer, Pearl cut in. "Dirk, Mother Hen. We have multiple visual contacts to our east. Hard to tell from here, but it might be some of the other guerillas, and we're not on the same side anymore. ETA five minutes."
"Dirk, Clothesline. J.J. just took off at top speed towards your position. ETA one minute. Only one sidearm in the center console. White flag on the jeep. No sign of him being hostile."
Emily was already mid-sprint back to her 'mech, listening in on the conversation. She snagged her neurohelmet resting on a nearby tree stump and half-clumsily raced up the wood-and-rope ladder to her cockpit.
She was already breaking into a fresh sweat by the time the hatch closed, as a dirty jeep with an even dirtier white flag poking up came straight at her, skidding to a halt just a few lengths from her the leg of her Cat.
He stood up, coughing in the dust cloud, and yelled as loud as he could. "Alvarez! It's Alvarez! She's the one who set up Langley! All the bombings! She's working with the commander of the 2nd Legion! She's got ties to the Yakuza on-planet and is attempting a coup!"
Emily opened her external speakers. "What?!"
"I don't have proof, but they're trying to get me to go back to Rasalhague and let them take the planet for the Dragon! I can't prove a damn thing, but you can probably get Alvarez to admit it if you confront her directly! I don't think the Renegades know about it, but they're closing in on you right now!" He coughed in all the dust, but continued nonetheless. "If you tell them she's behind Langley they can void their contract and probably get a nice cut if they help you out with the Legion!" He coughed again, and sat back down to reach for his water.
Right as a bullet from a sniper hit him square through the side of his head. The shot apparently was aimed center mass but wasn't expecting him to duck down so suddenly. He slumped into both front seats, blood pooling on the passenger side at a rate that would surprise even some seasoned doctors.
"Sniper!" Emily yelped, horrified by the sight of J.J. suddenly dead in front of her eyes, and she couldn't look away. "Everyone get back in your fucking 'mechs, NOW!"
"Who?" Pearl's voice cut in.
"I dunno! Maybe commandos. They got J.J. He said Alvarez was behind this whole damn thing." No tears came this time. She knew they would later. Normally they just came on their own, but she'd seen enough death on this planet that they no longer flowed freely.
"No way…" Pearl's voice suddenly choked, with anger or grief, Emily wasn't sure. But it got much louder and was on company comms this time. "Coyotes! We finally know who's pulling the strings and will deal with that later. Nymph, get Dirk's lance to do a two-kilometer sweep for snipers, spiraling outwards. Flock lance, face east and keep your weapons down. Dirk, we need to talk to that Renegade commander, and right now!"
Still staring at the blood pooling at the floor of the passenger side, Emily shook herself back to reality and blinked a few times. "Right! You heard her, Coyotes. Flock Lance, sweep all secure public channels and mash out parley requests on every one of them until you get an answer from the Renegades. Hurry!"
A chorus of ayes and a few howls responded, and several laser shots went out as some of the commandos were found out and burned to a crisp. The rest, about a half a squad of them, scattered for their lives as the Coyotes went on an angry manhunt.
Emily joined in on parley requests. On her sensors, she could see Renegade 'mechs beginning to appear. After about the longest minute of her life, she heard a voice on her own channel she was flicking through. "This is General Romero of Romero's Renegades. Parley at a time like this seems a bit like bullshit, don't you think, Ms. Coyote?" The man sounded like he belonged in a mansion, hosting a cocktail party for rich snobs, not in a battlemech.
General? You've got to be shittin' me. "This is Major Emily Wright, Commander of the 1st Iron Coyotes. We have information that pertains to the Langley Affair and the loss of several of your 'mechs and your people. We request parley to discuss it, along with an offer I think you might like."
A short pause. "Any evidence to back this up?"
"How about the fact that we could have started firing over a hundred LRM's at you as early as thirty seconds ago, with superior numbers, from an elevated, covered position?" This commander doesn't seem all that bright in the first place.
Another pause. "Done. Nobody moves a myomer on any 'mech, including us. Both sides power down until we're done."
"Done. Meet me on the ground." She swapped back to a Coyote channel. "Everyone stand down. Parley is on. Anyone on either side even twitches and you have orders to shoot them. Power down and stand by."
The tears started to well up as her 'mech slumped forward slightly amidst her own power-down, but she fought them off this time. She still had a mission, she still had people to protect, and now she had a fighting chance at pulling it off.
Thank you, J.J. We won't forget this.
