AUTHOR'S NOTES: Finally, some combat again! When I originally wrote this scene 20 years ago (holy crap!), I wrote a big space battle between the Clan fighters and the crew of the Merkava. I decided to excise most of that this time, because I wanted to keep the chapter from Sheila's POV. I also wanted to convey some of the terror that MechWarriors would feel, sealed in a DropShip under attack. Sheila in particular has a phobia of this, as mentioned in the last chapter, so I wanted to work on that, too. Anyhow, this chapter gets everyone down to Twycross...but what fate awaits them there?
I love doing shout-outs for fun and amusement, so the crew of the Merkava should be very recognizable, if you're aware of that and other science facts. There's also a cameo of sorts from a very famous MechWarrior, if you did any computer gaming back in the 1990s...
Finally, if you're enjoying this, please leave a review! I'm always happy (well, usually) to hear from my readers.
FCDS Merkava
Inbound Twycross, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone
10 September 3050
Sheila felt a jolt and nearly fell as she moved up to the bridge of the Merkava: the Leopard-class DropShip was hitting the upper edge of Twycross' atmosphere. She managed to keep her balance and opened the door to the bridge. It slammed shut and sealed behind her: the Merkava was under Condition Zebra, where airtight doors were closed throughout the ship. In theory, she should be in her Shruiken, loaded in the starboard forward 'Mech bay, but the captain had invited her up to the bridge. Sheila wondered if someone had told him about her fear of being sealed in a 'Mech bay.
He turned in his chair, located centrally on the spacious bridge, itself set above the bulbous nose of the DropShip. "Morning, Major!"
"Good morning, Captain Nelson," Sheila returned, not even trying to disguise her misery. At least it's almost over, she thought, though in honesty, the trip had not been a bad one. The Leopard-class was comfortable enough: they had loaded onboard on Sudeten, then boosted to orbit, where they had been docked with a JumpShip. A quick warp, and they were at Twycross, coming in at a pirate point close to the planet itself: instead of the Jade Falcons onplanet having a few days warning of an invasion force arriving at the nadir point, they would have less than six hours. The entire trip had taken four days to JumpShip rendezvous, four seconds for the jump, and now four hours to atmosphere injection. Sheila had her own cabin, but there had been no time to try and get with Max, although she saw him every day. They had to settle for stolen kisses in dark corners when they had time.
"Still nothing from the Clans," Nelson told her. He was a tall man, with the pale complexion that many spacers wore from not enough time onplanet, and close-cropped blond hair. "Aren't they supposed to be challenging us?"
"I guess so," Sheila responded. They had on Blackjack. She wondered why the Jade Falcons were being quiet. Maybe they're trying to figure out just how many forces we have. Or maybe they're calling for help. No one knew how the Clans communicated with each other; it was assumed they were not using ComStar. It was a mystery for another time, as the Merkava jolted again. She felt queasy, and not entirely from the beginnings of Twycross' atmosphere. She had gotten up that morning feeling nervous, and now that nervousness was building towards actual fear. Just after the jump was completed, Sheila had done a hasty recording: a farewell message to her parents, just in case she died. She had never done that before.
Nelson saw her fear and misinterpreted it. "Don't worry, Major. I know we're not a Sentinels DropShip crew, but we'll get you there."
The sooner the better, Sheila thought. "Thank you, Captain. Um…about how long?" She tried not to let her fear show.
"About two hours. We're just hitting the upper edge of atmo right now; we're in low orbit. Should be starting reentry in half an hour. I thought you might want to watch."
Sheila nodded. "Thank you; I would." She had never seen a reentry on a Leopard, having always rode the larger "egg" DropShips, like Unions and Overlords. "May I?" She pointed forward.
"Sure." He got up and walked with her to the forward windows. "That's Twycross. Not much to look at."
It wasn't. Twycross was an ugly world, a rust-colored planet with no other discernible color than the wisps of white clouds scudding across it. The mountain ranges were a slightly darker hue of dirty brownish red. She thought she saw the scar of the Great Gash over to the left, and the swirl of the Diabolis came into view, shot through with lightning. They flew over it, until it filled most of her view of the planet; even after they went past the terminator, into Twycross' night, the Diabolis was still there, lit with purple bolts, like a giant, malevolent eye looking straight at her. She stepped back, no longer wanting to watch. The sea of stars seemed oddly comforting compared to the planet. "Ugly," she croaked out from a suddenly dry mouth.
"Yeah. We've seen worse, though." He looked over at his helmsman, a squat man with bright red hair. "Hey, Tom—remember Chara III?"
Tom nodded. "Now that is one ugly ass planet. I think Matsuida's worse, though. Remember the seas that look like vomit?"
Sheila took a few more steps back, resisting the urge to hug herself as the fear mounted and the crew compared the worst of which planet they'd been to. She was torn between excusing herself and heading back to her cabin or her 'Mech, or staying on the bridge. To her surprise, none of the crew were in spacesuits, but coveralls. She wondered if they just accepted the fact that a sudden decompression during reentry would just kill them all anyway, spacesuits or not.
The bridge began to light up again as the Merkava completed its first orbit of Twycross. Glancing out of the windows again, Sheila saw the sunlight from Twycross' sun wink off of steel, a lot of it—the invasion fleet, now moving into position to discharge their DropShips. She couldn't see the other Leopards, all carrying the four Sentinel pathfinder lances.
Sheila was about to ask Nelson what the position was of the other ships when there was a loud beep. All conversation instantly ceased, and Nelson walked over to one of his other crew, a tall, skinny woman with outlandish purple hair; she clearly came from a low-gravity world. She was looking at a sensor readout. "We've got company. Ten bogeys, coming up from Camora."
"Bogeys my ass, Gyps. Those are bandits." He stepped away from the woman and went back to his seat. "Crow, send out a message to the fleet in case they didn't notice. Sound General Quarters and power up the turrets—we may have to stand tall." He looked over at Sheila. "Major, get in your 'Mech—same with anyone else who isn't already in there. We may have to kick you out early." Sheila nodded hastily, hoping the abject terror that boiled up in her throat wasn't showing. If the Merkava took catastrophic damage, they would open the 'Mech bay doors and give the MechWarriors a chance—not that it was much of one jumping into atmosphere from a spinning, burning DropShip. All the same, she saluted him and dashed off the bridge.
Alarms were going off all over the Merkava, and though a passage was left open for her to her 'Mech bay, it was sealed behind her as soon as she moved through sections. The Leopard was one of the few DropShip designs to have individual 'Mech bays for each of its four 'Mechs, along with two launch bays for fighters. The Merkava wasn't carrying any of the latter, and Sheila wondered if that wasn't a huge oversight. There was a single crewman standing by hers. "It's ready for you, Major!" he shouted. "Your MechWarriors are already aboard their 'Mechs!"
"Thanks! Good luck!" Sheila said with more confidence than she felt. She went through the hatch and scrambled up the side of the Shruiken. Once in the cockpit, she shut the canopy and heard it pressurize. A quick pull-down of her helmet and the usual prebattle check—cooling vest and radio pickup plugged in, helmet on and functioning, her boots locked into the seat—Sheila felt ready. "Merkava, Alpha Charlie Six. I'm in and locked down."
"Roger, Alpha Charlie. Depressurizing now." She felt a light shudder go through the ship. The 'Mech bays would be depressurized so, if the Merkava took a hit that holed the bays, the 'Mech wouldn't get sucked out of it, despite the 'Mechs' feet being held by magnetic clamps. Sheila felt the sudden urge to go to the bathroom as she realized the only thing between her and the vacuum of space was her armored canopy and an equally armored bay door. Both seemed painfully thin. She turned up the cockpit heat as a chill went through her.
"Alpha Charlie Six, Charlie Three. What's the sitrep, boss?" Marcus Drax asked.
Right. Do your job, Sheila. "Alpha Charlies, we may be going into a hot drop. We've got Clan fighters inbound, so if the DropShip goes down, we may have to abandon early. We've all got jumpjets, so we can survive that." As long as we're in atmosphere, Sheila added mentally, but her MechWarriors knew that as well as she did. "Hopefully both us and the DropShip stays together, but if we do get separated, make your way to DZ Meroune. Even if only one of us makes it, we have to set that beacon. Once it's set, head to the rally point. Avoid enemy contact. If the DropShip makes it down, we dustoff as quick as we can." She took a deep breath and tried to calm her thumping heart. "Just hold tight…and prayers can't hurt."
There was no answer from her lancemates, not that Sheila expected one. Then the Merkava shuddered again, but Sheila knew this wasn't the buffeting of Twycross' exosphere.
The fighters had arrived.
Sheila tuned her radio to listen to the DropShip crew's internal communications. The DropShip rocked a little with another hit, and Sheila listened to the Merkava's crew as they reported what was going on. The 'Mech bay was dark; all she could see in the light of the Shruiken's running lights was the dim gray steel of the bay door. It was surreal, listening to a battle she could not see, but yet feel.
"Raid count now twenty," a female voice said—the one Nelson had called Gyps. "Looks like we've got four on us."
"Shit. Wish we could identify these bastards. We got fighter support, Crow?"
"Yeah, boss. Should be arriving anytime."
"We're ready for reentry insertion, Captain!" Tom called out. "We want to go or make another orbit?"
"Hell no, let's go," Nelson replied. "Might throw these bastards off of us." Sheila felt another shudder through the ship. "We're hit, how bad?"
"We're fine, Captain," Gyps replied, not even raising her voice. "Armor holding."
Sheila now felt the Merkava began to shake, but this was not from hits—the DropShip was now well and truly entering Twycross' atmosphere. This was something familiar, though; Sheila knew what reentry felt like, just like anyone who traveled offplanet. Then there was a loud thump, a groan from the Merkava like a living thing, and a sickening lurch that threw Sheila to one side of her cockpit. Oh dear God! she wanted to scream, because that was not normal. Her fears were confirmed a moment later.
"Drive hit, Captain!" Gyps' voice was now higher. "We're still maintaing thrust, but we're losing control!"
"Tom!" Nelson shouted. "Bring the nose up! She's digging in! Bring us up before we flip over and break up!"
Sheila heard herself sobbing in fear and hated herself for it, but she knew she was going to die. Then, after an eternity of seconds, the shaking ended. "We're back in the pipe!" Tom yelled.
"Hold her there, Tom!"
"Got one!" Crow sang out. "We got one, by God!" There was a cheer. "Starboard turrets got the son of a bitch! Oh yeah, there he is!"
"Breaking up. Good shot, crew!" Nelson congratulated. "Where's the other ones?"
"Breaking off, boss," Crow reported. "They're not following us down. Looks like our fighters are engaging."
"Good work. We okay?"
"All sections green," Gyps said. "Aft large laser is offline and we've got heavy armor damage, bow and stern. Everything else looks good. Mains are still online."
"Okay. Major Arla-Vlata, are you on this channel?"
Sheila touched the radio button on her left control stick. "I'm listening. Nice work, Captain."
"That was my crew, Major, but I'll take it. We should be down in about 15 minutes. Stand by for dustoff."
"Roger that." Sheila switched frequencies to tell her lance, then tried to settle in. The Merkava continued to make occasional groaning and banging noises, but that was normal for reentry, and it soon stopped, replaced by silence. Sheila wasn't sure which was more frightening. She looked down at herself and the ejection seat, surprised to see that she hadn't wet herself. She was soaked in sweat, though it was still cool in the cockpit, and she could smell the bitter scent of fear. Sheila flexed her fingers, noticing that they were shaking, and her stomach felt like it had permanently knotted up. She opened the visor on her helmet and rubbed her eyes free of the tears, thankful that her lance could not see her.
Sheila thought the fifteen minutes would seem longer, but instead, it was as if no time had passed before Nelson radioed her. "Alpha Charlie Six, Merkava. Dustoff in five."
"Roger, understood. Alpha Charlies, stand by. Thank you again, Captain."
"Our pleasure, Alpha Charlie. Thanks for flying Merkava Airlines."
Sheila felt the knot in her stomach unwind a little, and she took a deep breath. Suddenly, she was shoved back in her seat as the Merkava fired its retrorockets for landing, and Sheila felt the thump of the landing pads locking into place, then another, final thump—the Merkava had landed on Twycross.
The steel doors rolled upwards, letting the harsh sun into the bay; though Sheila's canopy automatically polarized, she still squinted against the sudden light. "Alpha Charlie, go, go, go!" Nelson exclaimed.
"Lance, deploy!" Sheila ordered. The clamps unlocked, and Sheila moved the Shruiken forward, dropping out of the bay onto the rust-colored sand of Twycross, the heavy myomers in her 'Mech's legs absorbing the fifteen foot drop. She pushed down on the pedals, and moved a safe distance away from the Merkava. She turned to one side, the Shruiken's head turning to follow, and smiled for the first time in what felt like days: Kaatha's Griffin was right beside her, right where it was supposed to be. Once clear of the DropShip's wing, she turned left and ran past the nose, so Nelson could tell that the 'Mechs had cleared his ship. Sheila's smile got bigger: Drax's Phoenix Hawk and Max's Hatchetman were in position as well.
Nelson evidently saw them, for the Merkava seemed to kneel for a second, then rose up on silvery ion jets that billowed sand and dust all over them. Above the cloud, she saw the DropShip head upwards, propelled by its huge engines. As the sand settled, she pressed the radio button. "Alpha Charlie, check in."
"Two," Kaatha said.
"Three!" Drax reported.
"Four." Max was last.
Sheila did a quick visual inspection: the four 'Mechs still carried the gray and black camouflage pattern favored by the Sentinels, but they were already covered in dust; she was sure they would be covered with it before they left Twycross. "Okay, Alpha Charlies, move out to DZ Meroune. Alpha Charlie Three, you have the lead." Drax was faster than the other 'Mechs. "Two and Four, move out to the flanks; I'll bring up the rear." The lance moved out. Drax and Kaatha were walking their 'Mechs, but Max and Sheila had to move up to the 'Mech equivalent of a jog.
After about five minutes, Sheila suddenly found that her heart rate was normal. Her fingers had stopped shaking. She chuckled at herself. I must be a control freak. That's it. She looked out of the canopy. The Plain of Curtains was fairly level, with gently sloping hills. The drab sand was not deep, but formed little dunes continually whipped by the everpresent wind. It was clear, with blue sky and reddish-gray clouds scudding across it. In the distance, she could see the hazy outline of the Sharktooth Mountains. There were no landmarks that she could see other than that, but suddenly her navigation display chirped and displayed a red circle. They had arrived at Drop Zone Meroune.
"Alpha Charlie, halt," Sheila ordered, but her lance had already anticipated her. She took another deep breath and checked around. The four 'Mechs might as well be the only people on Twycross. "Okay, Three, set your marker. I'll set mine next to yours in case it doesn't work."
"Roger, Six." The Phoenix Hawk walked over to a spot, and Sheila had to laugh as Drax kicked the ground free of sand, like a baseball player clearing home base. A ball attached to the 'Mech's left leg then dropped off and fell with an audible clunk, then rolled before it came to rest right side up, as it was designed to do. Sheila watched as a thin antenna extended outwards six feet from the ball, then a white, pulsing light went off at the antenna's base. Sheila dropped off her marker as well and watched the process repeat itself. To check, she switched frequencies to the beacon, and heard a steady tone. "Markers activated," Kaatha confirmed.
"That was easy," Drax said. "Now what?"
"We wait," Sheila told him.
The lance took up a loose formation around the beacon, and powered down all but essential systems; the last thing they needed was to send out electronic noise the Clans could pick up on. It also meant maintaining radio silence. After a few minutes of the silence, broken only by Twycross' winds, Sheila realized she was actually kind of bored. She shouldn't be, the leading edge of one of the largest invasions since the War of 3039, but she was. There was nothing to look at, and thankfully nothing she could see as far as enemy forces. She looked over at Max's Hatchetman, and wished she could see him through the tiny windscreen; Sheila risked a small wave with the Shruiken's hand, and grinned when she saw the Hatchetman return the wave almost instantly. So he's watching me too, she thought, and that made her feel like everything was just right with the universe.
Almost an hour passed, and Sheila wished she could open the canopy to air out her cockpit—it still smelled of sweat and fear—but although Twycross had a breathable atmosphere, she would get blowing sand everywhere. She was still debating it when her headset crackled. There was a staticky voice, distorted by Twycross' sand, so she turned up the gain. Finally the transmission came through clear. "Alpha Charlie Six, this is Crescent Hawk One, come in."
Sheila touched the radio button. "Crescent Hawk One, this is Alpha Charlie Six. Receiving you five by five. We're at DZ Meroune. Do you have our beacon?"
"Roger, Alpha Charlie Six. Authenticate."
Sheila glanced down at the clear pockets in her MechWarrior shorts, where she had put small lists of codewords. "Authentication is Apple. Countersign?"
"Cobbler. Tally-ho on the DZ; you might want to clear it."
Sheila ordered her lance to move back about half a mile. She looked up and thought she saw the glint of sun on metal, and the specks of DropShips, but there were faster specks moving closer, which grew into the shape of Land-Air 'Mechs. She watched the newcomers land, in hybrid form, where the LAM looked like it had been in a terrible accident. The LAMs were painted red and black, with the patch of the Kell Hounds, and another insignia of a screaming hawk against a crescent moon.
The lead LAM, a Phoenix Hawk, finished its transformation to 'Mech mode and walked up to her. A telltale appeared on her instrument panel; the Kell Hound 'Mech was sending her a tightbeam message. "Alpha Charlie Six," she answered.
"Good morning," a male voice replied. "Jason Youngblood, Crescent Hawk Company, 1st Kell Hounds."
"Morning," Sheila said. "Sheila Arla-Vlata, 13th Light Dragoons, Sentinels."
Through the windscreen of the Phoenix Hawk, she could see Youngblood nod. "I know. I heard of you. Nice job on getting the Star."
"Thanks," Sheila replied guardedly, hoping Youngblood's next statement wouldn't be about Blackjack.
"How many times is this for you? Against the Clans, I mean?"
"Fourth battle. Persistence, Rasalhague, Blackjack, and here." Not that this is much of a fight, Sheila added to herself. We haven't fired a shot. Not that I'm complaining…
Youngblood let out a low whistle. "We haven't gotten a chance to kill any of these Clanner bastards yet. We've heard the stories though, from Star's End and Verthandi. Are the Jade Falcons as bad as the Wolves?"
"They're tough, but they're not ten feet tall."
Youngblood laughed. "Roger that. Look, Sheila, one of our DropShips took a hit on the way down and had to abort reentry. You mind heading out and securing our southern perimenter until they can get back in position?"
"Not at all," Sheila answered. "Send me the cords." She checked them against her navigational display. "Can do. It's on the way to our rally point anyway."
"Much obliged." He waved at her with the Phoenix Hawk, and Sheila returned it. "Have a good one."
"You too." Sheila switched back to her lance frequency, and told her lance what was going on. They began to move south, as the Kell Hounds' DropShips began to come plainly into view, escorted by fighters. A section of the latter broke off and headed for her lance, and Sheila prayed her Identification Friend or Foe was working, feeling the instinctive fear that soldiers felt for anything with wings. Luckily, her IFF was working fine, and the Kell Hound fighters rocked their wings as they flew past.
A few minutes later, they reached their destination, atop a low ridge. Sheila could see the 10th Lyran Guards' DropShips beginning to come down. There were more foothills here, and to the left, Sheila could hazily see jumbles of rocks, which her map told her was the western rim of the Great Gash. She was tempted to go look, but shook her head at herself: that wasn't her job, and if the Sentinels were on Twycross for any amount of time, there would be time to play tourist. She turned around to face north, where a huge dust cloud showed where the Kell Hounds were grounding. Far beyond them, she could see the black tendrils of the Diabolis on the northern horizon. God help you poor bastards in the 9th F-C, she thought.
"Alpha Charlie Six, Three," Drax radioed. "How long do we sit here?"
"Until we're relieved, Three. Shouldn't be too long. Why? You got a date?" Sheila grinned at her reflection in the canopy, even if Drax couldn't see it.
"I wish," Drax sighed. "Nah, just hungry."
Sheila's stomach rumbled at the mention of food. She reached back and felt the boxes on the side of the ejection seat, containing the 'Mech's survival gear. "Should be some trail mix in the survival gear."
"I'm not that hungry, Six."
"I've got beef jerky, Three," Kaatha broke in. "If one of you want to climb out and head over, I'll gladly share."
A sudden gust of wind blew past them, kicking up a cloud of dust. "I'll wait, Two," Drax said.
"Suit yourself. Alpha Charlie Four, how are you doing?" Kaatha asked. There was no reply. Sheila looked at the Hatchetman. It was completely still—it wasn't showing the telltale sign of a shut-down 'Mech, but it wasn't moving, either. "Alpha Charlie Four?" Kaatha repeated, and there was still no answer.
Sheila, fear rising in her stomach again, was about to radio, but then Max's voice came up. "This is Four. Alpha Charlie Four. Sorry, I was having a bit of trouble."
"Radio?" Sheila asked.
"No, relief tube."
That brought laughter from all of them. "Alpha Charlie Four, Three, you should've went before we left!" Drax snickered.
"Three, you think I could do anything on the way in?" Sheila heard Max shifting around, and then the hatchet slightly came up, indicating that Max's hands were back on the control sticks. "Sorry, that thing is a bitch to get into place."
Sheila laughed again. All 'Mechs were equipped with relief tubes, where the pilot could urinate if they had to. For males, it was easier because they just reached under the seat, grabbed a hose with a cup-shaped attachment, unzipped their flies or pulled down their underwear, and then plugged in, as it were. The urine would go to a tank that would be drained by whatever tech drew the short straw that day. For women, however, it meant screwing on an adapter to the cup, then doing a contortionist act to get into place. It reaffirmed most female MechWarriors' opinion that BattleMechs were clearly designed by men.
"Alpha Charlie Four, Two, why didn't you just unstrap and go out the cockpit hatch?" Kaatha asked. Sheila thought about quieting the chatter, but then decided to let her lance talk. It was a good way to unwind, and with the Kell Hounds behind and the 10th Lyran Guards in front, the Clans had a lot more on their minds than a lance's private radio messages.
"No thanks, Two; I don't want to get it sandblasted off. Besides, I really don't want to just hang it all out in front of a lance."
"Alpha Charlie Four, please. Two is built the same, I'm an old woman and I'm sure Sheila has seen all that before."
Sheila turned beet red under her visor. Oh shit. Does Kaatha know about me and Max? Then her radar interrupted her thoughts, beeping for her attention. She instantly looked down, and saw it painting twenty contacts moving towards her from the south. It was probably not Clan units, but Sheila instantly told her lance to knock it off and get into line behind the ridge; it wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Her radar now identified the contacts as sixteen 'Mechs and four tanks, and Sheila relaxed a little; the Clans didn't use tanks, as far as she knew. All the same, when the lead 'Mech came into range, she cleared her voice and radioed on the open channel. "BattleMechs bearing two-seven-two from Meroune, halt. This is Alpha Charlie Six, authenticate."
A German-accented voice came back. "Alpha Charlie Six, this is Red Three-Six, 10th Lyran. Your code is Texas. Countersign."
Sheila once more checked her list of passwords. "Countersign is Star. Advance and be recognized." Less than a minute passed before she saw a Battlemaster come out of the haze of blowing sand, the blue and white colors of the Lyran Guards not yet completely covered in Twycross' dust. Sheila motioned her lance forward. By the time she reached the Battlemaster, the rest of the company was in view, wearing the same colors. "Hauptmann Karl Jungblud," the Battlemaster's pilot radioed. "3rd Battalion, 10th Lyran."
Small galaxy, Sheila thought, Jungblud of the 10th Lyran and Youngblood of the Kell Hounds. "Major Sheila Arla-Vlata, Sentinels. Good to see you, Hauptmann. Everything in good shape back there?"
"Down and secure. Good to see you as well, but we are in a bit of a hurry, Major."
"Understood, sir. I'll let the Kell Hounds know you're passing through their lines."
"Danke, Major. Good hunting, Sentinels." The Battlemaster moved past her with a wave.
"Enjoy yourself, sir." Sheila moved her lance into an open formation to let Jungblud's company move past her, and radioed the Kell Hounds. Jungblud's company was typically Lyran: most of its 'Mechs were over 70 tons, and the four tanks were monster Behemoths and Ontoses.
"Roger that, Alpha Charlie Six," Youngblood radioed back. "Go ahead and head for the rally point; we'll relieve you."
"Understood, Crescent Hawk. On our way." Sheila motioned her lance to follow as Jungblud's last lance moved past, and they followed the mass of 'Mech footprints and tank treads back towards the distant Cloisters. Just like that, their role in the invasion of Twycross was over. Sheila once more marveled at life in the military: she had never met either Youngblood or Jungblud in her life, and yet they had depended on her doing her job. Now she would depend on them doing theirs. She smiled. It was oddly enjoyable.