One thing Paul had noticed when he'd heard the spread of word that the DropShip had landed, was that it was quite quiet in the period following. The gunfire had stopped briefly, save for the rumble of return artillery coming from the base at their backs. He watched the occasional shell whizz overhead, heard the distant pop as it exploded in the distance. Paul had been at first too disoriented to really think much about the fact that the combat wasn't nearly over, but as his senses had cleared with the brief respite, his thought gradually drifted back to that fact. But before he'd had a chance to really think about the meaning of those words, he was dragged from his thoughts again as he leaned against the side of the trench by the shout of an order barked down the line asked for a spotter, and a man from the other side of the trench moved down the line and toward the commanding officers. It only took a minute before they were shouted at again.
"Ready for assault!" it came, and immediately a flurry of disciplined action spread through the men as they took up their arms, cocked their rifles, or began manning the gun slots in the hardened ports of the trenchtop. Paul finally moved down the line himself, focusing on his job. His head still ached and his cheek was swollen, but he wasn't ready to back off from something so silly as a small wound to his pride.
He decided to fall in to the counter assault area waiting at the base of the trench, in between Lehr, whom looked much more serious than he'd ever seen him, and a man they called Merish. He was about to say something to him, as Paul had known him all his life, they'd grown up in the same township, even, but before he could, the gunfire on the front line began again, and he could see stray lasers firing overhead on a few occasions. They made the dim world seem a bit brighter for a split second, and he found the whole experience strange. Could light truly harm somebody that badly?
Paul watched Merish's face for a moment, his friend was an easy read for him. When they could hear the battlecry of their enemies as they hit the front line and the resulting shouting from their allied forces, it twisted into one of brief fear, even if only for a second, but Merish was never one to keep himself from steeling his nerves. He glanced at Lehr and nodded, waiting for the order.
Just a moment later, gunfire broke out from above them on the trench, when those soldiers at the gun ports opened up on the incoming forces. In what seemed like fifteen seconds, they stopped, and immediately the order was given for the assault teams to move out. Paul followed Lehr and Merish up the ladder from the deeper part of the trench, and surged forth in a sprint for a few feet before raising their rifles as they were taught and scanning for a moment. There was no immediate sign of the enemy, save for a few dead Bandits, their strange hodgepodge armor bearing black scars and bullet holes, their emblems stained with blood. Lehr didn't seem to buy it, as he stopped to kick a corpse, making sure it was dead, before he glanced around and lead the way. The other two came up his rear and Paul followed him into a crater, sliding in beside him by his rump until his feet caught the basin.
"Where's Merish?" he asked, and Paul pointed back up the slope.
"He took cover in a smaller one just to the east. He'll be fine," Paul said to Lehr as the wisecracking soldier shuffled up the side of the crater and aimed his weapon over the edge. Paul followed him up and mirrored the action, his lower profile hiding him somewhat better than the taller man. They watched the smoke from the return fire as it swirled up before them, training their rifles, and he risked a glance in Merish's direction. He was doing the same thing, sticking to their basics, and Paul adjusted to form a crossfire with his friend while Lehr watched their immediate front. They could hear activity from up ahead and witnessed a handful of retreating soldiers from the center flank as they pulled back from the enemy. They were shouting and rather frantic, so he turned back to his sights, just in time to catch Merish open fire into the smoke. Soon enough he felt the gust of wind and watched the dust clear quickly enough he could see the figures of the approaching enemy. They ran wildly in assault, some firing to cover their advance, and he wasted no time to catch the fastest of them in his aim, snapping off a burst of five rounds with his automatic, the hail of fire catching the raider in the calf and neck by chance, and Paul felt his heart thump as he watched his first kill drop to the ground. He felt odd, right in that moment, even as another body fell from Merish's fire, slumping over his target's legs. It was, in a sense, incredibly easy for him to die just like that man had. He shook his head and moved his weapon to the left, aiming for the flashes of gunfire he could see erupting in the back line of the enemy. He flicked his gun to single, and aimed just above the lights, to allow for the bullet to drop, and after two cracks from his gun, one of the lights stopped. But just as he had done, so too did the enemy, and two rounds impacted the soil just in front of him, followed by more whizzing in the air nearby, enough he dropped his head and hugged the wall of the crater, his heart racing again. Lehr was similarly suppressed, covering his head with an arm as the dirt fell on them from the return fire, and yet Paul could still hear the sound of Merish's gun going off. The moment he heard it stop, he scrambled; his friend was most likely reloading and needed cover!
Crawling back up to the line, he glanced quickly over, and caught sight of two more targets before dropping back down before being seen. He waited only a second more, then peeked over again while returning his weapon to automatic, firing in their direction indiscriminately. Merish had been taking some fire, but it was silenced by his suppression, as the two men scrambled for cover. One was caught in the hand by a stray bullet and dropped his rifle, but they both fled into a crater further back, and he frowned. They would have to push up, and Lehr mentioned he had enemies still out there too. Merish used the time to run to them, and as he slid into the crater, he seemed excited.
"Brett! Good shooting, you saved my arse," he mentioned, and Paul suddenly caught a hint of his own triumph. He grinned and nodded, gripping his friend's arm. He didn't feel much better about the fact that these were other people he was shooting down, but they were attacking them... It was only defense, right? He ground his teeth to himself, deliberating briefly over the morality of combat as he rubbed at his temple. Lehr moved to the back of the crater and peeked over to see some of their other entrenched forces moving up to support them as well. Two of them set up an autocannon in the crater that Merish had vacated, one of them had a singed helmet and the other was smoking a large cigar, rather quickly. Paul touched his temple again, and shuddered, his eyes widening when he heard a loud sound in the distance; this time it was coming from the enemy's side of the line. There were a few loud thumps, and he immediately thought of the cannons firing again, artillery shells, so he dove for cover and covered his head. But no more sounds came, just more low, loud thumps in the ground he was huddled against.
"Commandooooo!" someone shouted, and he grabbed his rifle in earnest, looking over the horizon again to scan for signs of hostiles.
Even as a light Battlemech, the thing still towered over battlefield, and what was worse, it was fast. It sprinted right at their line, moving much like a human would, running to tackle or to attack, as it opened fire with twin machine guns on one arm. He could see even through the smoke that it displaced the ground as it moved, leaving large lumps he could assume were footprints in the soil. It was the first time he'd ever actually seen a Battlemech fully powered and moving. Before, they simply sat in their bays, awaiting their pilot. But this was much, much different. In fact, it was downright terrifying.
The hulking thing sprayed bullets right into the front line trench, completely eliminating the entire squad stationed there. He heard the other soldiers scrambling about outside the crater, and the autocannon cracked to life as it began firing on the light mech. He chanced another glance as the fast-mover got closer, dodging the autocannon fire and bounding right over the front trench. That was when, thank the heavens, somebody fired a rocket at it.
Paul could only watch, unequipped for such an attack as it were, as the Commando took a missile straight to the chest, stopping it in it's tracks as it wobbled, trying to stay up. The pilot, he was sure, was an inexperienced bandit with a stolen mech, because the thing toppled backward, and slowly fell to the ground, kicking up a dust cloud as it hit the ashy surface.
"MOVE!" shouted the Sergeant behind him, and he hadn't even had time to check whom it was before he was pulled out of the crater by Lehr, who began at a full sprint toward the downed Mech. Paul took off after him.
"Wait!" he shouted, trying to get him to slow, but Lehr removed a grenade from his vest and continued bolting toward it. He pulled the pin and threw it, and Paul slowed slightly once he'd grabbed Lehr's shoulder. The grenade bounced off the Commando's shoulder, and detonated, rather harmlessly, against it's armor from a short distance away. The pilot of the 'mech swiveled it's head toward the sound, and it raised one arm. Paul grabbed his fellow soldier and tried to pull him down, but Lehr, eyes wide, took the full brunt of the Commando's attack, as a green laser blasted him right back in the shoulder, instantaneously burning away cloth and flesh alike. Paul watched in horror as a dumbfounded Lehr's arm was burnt to cinders, down first to the bone, and then that, too, turned to ash. It happened so quickly, he was still pulling the man to the side as he began to scream in agony. Supporting him as best he could, the soldier all but dragged his hobbling comrade back toward their hole, bent low, as quick as he could. Yet another laser shot right by them as he continued to fire upon them, but by now the dust from his own impact had obscured his vision.
Lehr was in a state of shock by the time they got back to their hole, he was sweating profusely, yet cold to the touch, and Paul had to hold his face to keep it from shaking so much.
"Lehr! Lehr, speak to me!" he said as the man stared at him.
"MEDIC!" he shouted in desperation. Two men rushed passed him, armed with another rocket launcher.
"MEDIC!"
Lehr looked down at where his arm used to be, and immediately looked away. He was having problems breathing, everything smelled burnt. Paul noted he had lost a large portion of his torso to the blast, some of the bone hadn't quite been eradicated, and it was sticking out of his cauterized flesh, charred. The medic arrived so suddenly, Paul hadn't even registered it when he was pushed out of the way by the man. He dropped back, and in his own, smaller state of shock, put his hands on the sides of his head.
This was what combat was. He knew it would be like this, but it was still coming to him in waves. His brain had taken in so much so quickly, he wasn't sure what to make of it; had those bandits simply been trying to steal what they had? Why were they even here?
There was a loud explosion in the direction of the Commando, and he could only assume they had dealt with it.
Where was Merish? He poked his head back over the rear edge of the basin of the crater, glancing around at what was going on. More soldiers were advancing from the trench, assisting the others whom had pushed up like they had in dealing with the wounded or resupplying. Then he looked back toward the Commando.
The dust was finally clearing, and there, scattered on the ashy plain, were dozens of bandit bodies. Three of them where lying directly where Lehr's field of fire had been. His own bullets had only taken one life, wounded others. He could see the man from before whom he had shot lying just beyond the ridge where Lehr lie with the medic, bleeding from his neck onto the barren plain.
He ducked as more shots cracked off, from who knows where.
More orders were trickling in from the superiors. One shouted for them to get their things, because they were advancing. Paul thought back to Lehr, even as he moved out, leaving him to the medic as he shouldered his rifle and fell in with the other men who were moving up slowly. He checked himself for any signs of damage, then held his rifle trained on the horizon from the hip, ready to shoulder it if anything came his way.
As the soldiers swept the field, they came across their own fallen, and some of the soldiers stopped to rip dog tags from their commrade's necks. One man who was trying to do just that, wandered too close to the wrong crater. Paul watched as some young soldier from the left flanking platoon was jumped by the soldiers from before, one still bearing the wound to his hand Paul had inflicted on him. Their lad went down, and a few of the other boys opened fire on the hooligans, dropping them into limp sacks of flesh. He grimaced and kept on, looking for any sign of trouble.
The wreckage of the Commando was up ahead, and when they drew closer, somebody opened fire from behind the twisted metal, scattering the Rangers and prompting return fire. Paul raised his weapon and shot at the top of the metal, listening to the delayed sound of his bullets as they traveled to and impacted their mark. When the volley of return fire was finished, everything grew silent, save for the moan of a man wounded further up in the exchange.
Paul slumped down against a concrete barricade, trying to take everything in again. What was he doing here?
...And were victorious once more on the Periphery! The glory of the Federated Commonwealth stands strong when...
If this was really the truth of the Periphery, he wondered how deceived they had been into getting themselves into this. Lehr's arm was gone, probably part of his lung, and maybe even more than that. Paul wasn't even sure which arm it had been. If it had taken a piece of his heart... He could remember Lehr's face, it was ghost white, like he'd witnessed the worst travesty committed in history, like he was beside himself.
What if it had been him?
He was broken out of his trance by the appearance of an ammo-man, who was snapping his fingers in front of Paul's face. He held up a couple clips of ammo and a grenade, grinning and making a face that a delighted shopkeeper about to make a sale might. He checked his mag, only two bullets left. Unclipping it he took the other two and loaded one into the weapon, pocketing the other and ejecting the two shells from the remaining clip, tossing it to the side.
"Thanks," he offered to the other soldier, who helped him to his feet and wandered off. Further in the distance, Paul could see a tank firing on more enemies. They were all across the field still engaging other forces, the volcano in the distance still glowing with lava, illuminating the place in a blood-red background. The ash still blew with the wind but he could make out through it's dancing particles the sight of the main force of the enemy, held back by a handful of tanks. There were hundreds here, swarming, shooting, shouting. The way they attacked was so vicious, he wondered if their lives might depend on it. It was like nothing he'd ever seen. They hardly had much technology, but he could see as he caught up to the others, one of the tanks went up in smoke.
Some soldiers were setting up mortars now as they gained ground, and two began firing in arcs passed the friendly tanks, mostly at random. Whether they had much effect was hard to tell.
They arrived at a tank ditch and Paul, along with Merish and now Krop and six other soldiers all took it up as a makeshift trench, with Paul in the center. To their right was the ridge that the enemy had attacked from, running along for a few meters before it gave way to more cratering from the Long Toms. He could see fragments of a massive boulder which had been smashed by the artillery fire.
Merish, he noticed, was covered in ash, and Krop was laughing at him, even out here in this hell hole. Merish just shook his head, Paul grew curious as to what happened to him. The other soldiers chattered to the ones who were looking out for the enemy, and Paul loaded the two spare bullets he had into a magazine someone had passed around for spares.
"Gentlemen," came a voice from the top of their trench, and Paul glanced to see the Sergeant from the mess hall looming over them. His fatigues read "Kachinsky", he finally noted, and he bore the bars of his rank on his left shoulder.
"It only gets harder from here. Keep your heads down, and don't do anything stupid, think before you act. Remember, these are psychos we're dealin' with, right? They won't hesitate to kill you."
A couple of the soldiers gulped, and Paul remembered the words he'd said before. They'd do fine. But he knew not all of them were going to make it out of this alive.