"Lord, what a splendid world we ruined." Dmitry Glukhovsky, Metro 2033
Fairstone, Sherbrooke III, Lyran Commonwealth
7th February, 2953
There was an odd paradox in the life of a MechWarrior. Being mentally connected to one's BattleMech, especially one of the heavier ones, had a way of giving a person something approaching a god complex. Yet, to be a MechWarrior was to always be vulnerable, always be targeted. It was to always have mortality looming.
"Dusk Seven, this is Pinion Two-Niner, painting hostile squad, over." A voice sparked over Cian's radio. The metal music playing in the cockpit quieted as the voice spoke.
Cian turned his Black Knight, rotating seventy-five tons of heavy metal to face a blip that suddenly appeared on his canopy's HUD. It seemed to be an unassuming section of an apartment building's third floor, but this was urban combat. Cooperation between infantry and 'Mechs was the essential bread and butter.
"Copy, Pinion Two-Niner, mark received. Heads down." Cian replied, pressing the button that fired his particle-projector cannon.
To catch lightning in a bottle was one thing, but it was quite another to pull out the cork and let it fly again. A crackling blue spindle of energy lanced forth from the Knight's right arm, crossing the three hundred meters in a flash, smashing into steel and glass. There was an explosion of dust and debris. Cian couldn't tell if the strike was effective.
"Solid hit, Dusk Seven. Over." Confirmed the FWL infantryman.
Just like that, with the press of a button, a squad of Lyran soldiers had been erased. Thus, the god complex.
The Black Knight, lovingly dubbed El Cid long before Cian was born, stood twelve meters in height, bearing the humanoid shape that most BattleMech's did. It was painted the burnt ochre of the Regulan Hussars. Unique to the 17th Regiment was its violet left arm indicating loyalty to the Free Worlds League and House Marik.
"Dusk Seven, watch your six, hostile jumping in behind." Another voice warned. Thus, the looming mortality.
Cian rotated his 'Mech's torso, the machine's feet joining in to get him spun around. He was just fast enough to take the incoming autocannon/10 shot in the Knight's left arm. A stumpy, cylindrical 'Mech landed in the street behind him, heat wash from its jump jets hazing the air beneath it. It was painted Lyran blue and white.
In most situations, the most praise one could give an UrbanMech was "well, better than no 'Mech at all." It was dreadfully slow, negating the advantage of its relatively heavy armor for its thirty-tons in the open. But this sort of fighting was what the "Urbie" was made for. It could leap in, fire, and leap away, its torso able to rotate a full three-sixty, which was unique. Had Trent not warned Cian, the plucky Light 'Mech would have probably managed its hit and run before Cian could respond.
But he had been warned.
His heat was good, so Cian unleashed hell. Both large lasers in El Cid's chest, blue beams joining the bright green of the four medium lasers spread across the 'Mech. Cian's heat gauge spiked but the attack had its desired effect. He slagged away a great mass of the Urbie's torso armor, the AC/10 on the smaller machine's right side exploding, ammo cooking off inside its torso. Shrapnel, smoke, and flame heralded the end of the UrbanMech, which pitched over, crashing into a parking garage and tearing away part of it in a shower of concrete.
No ejection, Cian noted. The MechWarrior probably hadn't survived the ammo explosion. Cian wasn't eager to feel sympathetic to one of the servants of House Steiner.
"Dusk Actual, scrubbed that Urbie, over." Cian reported to Trent as he turned El Cid back in the proper direction. This was it. Music blaring, lasers blasting, 'Mech stomping; this was what kept him in it time and again.
"Copy, Seven." Trent replied. Major Trent was the commanding officer of Dusk Company. Dusk comprised three lances of four 'Mechs each, which was standard for all Inner Sphere militaries. They were all Heavy BattleMechs, ranging from sixty to seventy-five tons, meant to be the hammer that smashed through enemy lines and opened the way for Lights and Mediums to wreak havoc. The even heavier and much rarer Assault 'Mechs were in reserve, waiting to be thrown in where they could potentially turn the tide.
Cian checked over his readouts, grateful for a few moments to let his 'Mech's heat sinks bleed away what firing all those lasers had built up. One had to be careful operating a BattleMech with an all energy weapon loadout. It was freed from needing to return to supply depots for ammunition, but lasers and PPCs produced prodigious amounts of heat in comparison. If a MechWarrior didn't watch their heat gauge, they could find themselves crossing the safety threshold and cause an emergency shutdown in the middle of combat, which usually spelled death.
The AC/10 shot from the UrbandMech had taken a noticeable bite out of El Cid's left arm. The armor was still intact, but Cian would have to be cautious with it. A few dents and dings were spread across the Black Knight's armor, but nothing worth worrying about just yet.
Cian didn't know what was going on around him in the wider city of Fairstone. It was the capital city on the planet of Sherbrooke III, the target of a concerted push by the 17th Regulan Hussars, joined by infantry and vehicle formations, along with aerospace elements that were currently dogfighting for superiority overhead. Fairstone was burning in countless places across the city, the light of the fires reflecting orange against the billowing smoke overhead. In the darkness of the planet's long nights, it gave an overall eerie cast to the urban sprawl around Cian. Even through his cockpit's canopy and the metal of the 'Mech around him, Cian could hear the sounds of battle all around him as detonations shook the air and buildings collapsed. Artillery barrages crisscrossed overhead as opposing emplacements attempted counter-battery fire.
"Dusk Seven, Dusk Five is on your six, push up." It was Captain Safira Afdal, leader of Cian's Lance. She was piloting a Grasshopper, five tons lighter than Cian's 'Mech, better armored and equipped with jump jets, but easily outgunned by the Black Knight. Feeling more confident now that someone had his back directly, Cian continued the forward push.
The sheer number of blind corners and lack of ready maneuverability made urban combat a nightmare for most 'Mechs that weren't purpose built for the scenario like the UrbanMech. Cian felt his nerves remain thoroughly on edge as he pushed ahead, spitting lasers into enemy infantry positions in buildings, on rooftops, and at ground level. Here and there, hovercraft and tanks tried to hit and run, but Cian and Afdal managed to avoid taking too much damage from them, wracking up a good number of kills. Something was gnawing at Cian.
"Captain. Is it just me or is this a little too easy so far?" Cian asked.
"It is. But we have our orders, Lieutenant. Just stay alert." Afdal replied. She didn't sound happy with her own answer, but it wasn't as if they had any other choice.
Cian grunted wordlessly in reply, mostly to himself. This attack was the brainchild of Marshal Ermolli, part of the larger Operation Killing Stroke, which had not been going well, in spite of what military censorship might have been trying to imply. The fact this advance into the capital of a border world between the Free Worlds League and Lyran Commonwealth was going so should have been a good sign.
An impact against Cian's left arm, another striking a glancing blow across El Cid's chest.. He couldn't turn fast enough to see the source, but experience taught him he'd just been targeted by twin-linked AC/2s, much smaller versions of the AC/10 the UrbanMech had shot him with. A Blackjack, maybe? It could have used its jump jets to gain temporary vantage. God dammit, this was why Cian hated urban warfare.
A 'Mech darted across the street ahead, not pausing as it briefly flitted into view. It looked like a Jenner to Cian, a swift Light 'Mech. it blazed away, four green beams from M lasers joining a small salvo of short-range missiles. The missiles were off target, blasting away a swathe from a multilevel shopping complex, but the lasers raked across El Cid's abdomen and left leg. Cian being on high alert paid off and he returned fire, PPC and an L laser tagging the back of the Jenner's cockpit before it could cross out of view.
"They're harrying us. Trying to wear us down." Afald noted. "Tells me they don't actually have the tonnage to stop us." She sounded more hopeful than certain.
Cian wasn't so sure. The Lyran Commonwealth tended to field more high tonnage 'Mechs than the other nations of the Inner Sphere, going for quality over quantity. These harrying tactics weren't their usual style. But, if Operation Killing Stroke was being stymied at every turn so far, what had suddenly made Sherbrooke III different than the rest of House Marik's failed thrusts? But, Marshal Ermolli was pushing them to take the planet quickly.
Cian's sensors suddenly lit up, picking up new power signatures. The comms suddenly became a cluttered mess as voices clashed against each other to ask for orders, trying to coordinate responses, demanding aid from neighboring units.
The reality of the situation was plain to Cian. The lighter units had drawn the FWLM forces in thanks to Marshal Ermolli's urging. Because of that, the 17th Regulan Hussars were now falling victim to one of the oldest tricks in the book when it came to 'Mech on 'Mech warfare.
"This is Round Table; all units, continue your advance! House Marik is counting on you! Do not fear! Do not falter!" The whinging voice of Marshal Gustav Ermolli came over the general comms. It was plain as day that he was panicking.
Cian stopped his 'Mech, knowing that every step forward was playing into Lyran hands.
"Dusk Actual, Dusk Seven. Requesting orders." Cian said, waiting for the enemy to appear before him. He was leapfrogging over the chain of command, but he felt the situation called for it. It wasn't that Cian didn't trust Afdal, she was a competent officer and MechWarrior. Cian just needed to go as high as he reasonably could and still get an answer.
"Hold course, Dusk Seven. The Marshal gave us our orders. Like it or not, we follow them." Trent ordered. Just like Afdal, he didn't sound happy.
Cian followed his orders, then, just as he always had. He upped El Cid's throttle to continue the advance, even though every fiber of his being told him to retreat, or at least to consolidate with the rest of his lance and prepare for the worst.
"Dusk Seven, Dusk Five. On first contact, let's give 'em the Full Welcome." Afdal suggested.
"Confirmed, Dusk Five." Cian replied. It was a good plan, and her Grasshopper was in better shape than his Knight.
A sensor ping revealed their maneuver would have to happen sooner rather than later. Three enemy lances were incoming. The real Lyran assets were in the fray now.
White-painted armor revealed itself in an intersection. Underslung arms, a hunched frame. Marauder. Seventy-five tons of devastating fire support. Its right PPC fired the moment it came into view, which whizzed past Cian and into the air. The AC/5 on its back thumped as well, the explosive shell spalling away armor just beneath El Cid's head, causing disconcerting shrapnel to scrape and ping across the cockpit canopy.
"Alpha strike." It was the term to describe a MechWarrior firing all the weapons at once. The risk level was highly dependent on a BattleMech's armament and cooling. For a laser boat like El Cid, it was the very definition of high risk, high reward.
Cian's fingers twitched. PPC, two L lasers, four M lasers, one S laser; a rainbow of superheated light coruscating through the dark, glittering and flashing off windows down the street. The rush of thrusters hissed as Afdal's Grasshopper used its jump jets to go above El Cid, adding five more lasers and a salvo of five missiles to the unrelenting barrage.
The Marauder was buried by laser fire. The AC/5's barrel warped as it tried to fire again, causing the shell to go off inside the weapon and blow it clean off the 'Mech. Entire sections of armor turned red then orange hot, the right arm linkage ending up severed. Just like the Urbie, the Marauder's AC ammo cooked off, bursting inside the 'Mech. That didn't seem to kill the machine, but the missile that struck the Marauder's suddenly superheated hip actuator did. The 'Mech's leg came off and it slewed to the ground, weapons firing uselessly in the air, dredging up asphalt as it skidded to a halt.
Afdal landed in front of Cian, no doubt running hot after jumping and alpha striking. Cian himself was feeling the heat in his cockpit, his cooling vest taking the edge off. He wasn't in the red yet, but unfortunately, the Marauder wasn't alone.
Lasers from behind. Cian's sensors locked on the threat, an alert that his much thinner rear armor had been hit. It was that damn Jenner again.
"Behind us!" Cian called out, turning his Black Knight around. He wasn't quick enough to hit the Light 'Mech but if it was hitting him, then maybe…
Jetting up into view over the rooftops, it was the Blackjack; forty-five tons, weapons attached directly to the upper sides of its torso. Again, the twin AC/2s spat shells at Cian, his already battered left arm bearing the brunt. Another warning on his HUD. The integrity of the limb's armor was essentially nil by now.
Cian returned fire with a trio of M lasers, scoring a hit center of mass as the Blackjack fell from view. He had to resist the urge to unleash more. This was the balancing act every Black Knight MechWarrior had to go through.
More vehicles were flitting between alleys and side streets, taking potshots as Cian and Afdal fought back to back. Cian tried to juggle his M lasers, dancing on a heat balance as a trio of hovercraft ended up slagged. Every time he thought he'd have a few moments to bleed off a little heat, he'd be forced to shoot at another target. Sweat beaded and ran across Cian's body as the cockpit started doing its best impression of an oven.
"Dusk Actual, Dusk Five. Seven and I are surrounded and pinned. We have at least one Assault 'Mech incoming according to sensors. Could use some backup." Captain Afdal warned the Major.
Cian blasted a Scorpion tank, then raised El Cid's right arm, his sensors tracking a target he couldn't yet see. Predicting its movement, Cian aimed an L laser and fired. The Jenner emerged once again, sprinting directly into the blue streak. The energy beam cored the 'Mech, piercing its engine, destroying the gyro-stabilizer that helped keep it steady. The smoking ruin of the Light 'Mech went down in an uncannily human looking fashion as its foot caught the destroyed Scorpion and sent the Jenner tripping into the first floor of an apartment building. Before it fell, the top of the 'Mech was blown open by shaped charges and the pilot's ejection system launched them into the air. That was wise move, as the Jenner was already glowing.
"It's a contact heavy environment, Dusk Five. Will divert what I can when I can, hold for now." Trent replied.
It wasn't the best response to hear, but it was what it was.
The Jenner's fusion engine went critical and exploded, sending up a mushroom cloud and utterly levelling the building it had crashed into.
"Atlas. Atlas on the field. Need support, Dusk Seven." Afdal informed Cian in an eerily calm tone even as his blood went cold. The Atlas was arguably the most feared 'Mech in the Inner Sphere, one-hundred tons of nigh unstoppable power. Cian heard the fire intensify behind him and knew Afdal's Grasshopper was shielding El Cid.
The Blackjack emerged again. Cian made a snap decision, firing his PPC to take the Medium 'Mech out of the air. The already weakened chest armor was blasted apart. Though Cian couldn't tell if he'd disabled the 'Mech, the electronic scrambling effect of the PPC thankfully threw off the Blackjack's aim, causing its autocannons and lasers to go wide into a building beside El Cid.
That didn't mean Cian got out scot free.
"Engaging emergency shutdown." Said the electronic voice of El Cid's battle computer.
The Black Knight stopped moving, body slumping as systems were cut to maximize immediate heat loss. Cian's HUD went blank save for a progress bar informing him how long it would take for the appropriate amount of heat to dissipate and the 'Mech to restart.
"FUCK!" Cian bellowed in frustration. "Dusk Five, I'm overheated! Had to hit that Blackjack." It was the truth, and it was the right thing to do. Taking the Atlas would be hard enough without those AC/2s pelting them in the weaker armor of their BattleMechs' backs. It still felt and sounded like a cop out to his ears.
"Copy, Seven." Afdal said, still cool as ice even as detonations and warning buzzers could be heard over her comms.
Cian watched the progress bar, every moment feeling like an eternity. He cursed under his breath, begging El Cid to hurry, to somehow defy physics and move heat faster.
The sound of El Cid powering back up gave Cian a moment of hope as he immediately slammed his controls to the side, willing the 'Mech to turn with all speed. Without the Neurohelm he wore communicating with the 'Mech's gyro-stabilizer, the 'Mech would have probably tipped over.
But it was too late. The smoking, shattered hulk that was Afdal's Grasshopper was already falling to one side, and there was the Atlas. It was humanoid, fourteen meters tall, broad enough to almost fill the space between the rows of buildings that flanked the street. The AC/20 slung under its right arm was smoking, the barrels of its medium lasers cooling from orange to red. The distinctive skull-like head of the Assault 'Mech, scarred by Afdal's lasers, seemed to stare straight through El Cid's canopy and into Cian's eyes.
Perhaps there had already been a fault in the Atlas's armor. Perhaps the damage Afdal had dealt wasn't as superficial as it appeared. Cian would never know. He raised his PPC and pulled the trigger, the beam passing a round from the AC/20 in the air. The last thing Cian saw before El Cid was hit by AC shell and lasers was the PPC shot striking the Atlas directly in the face and blast clean through its head. It was the kind of shot a MechWarrior would brag about for the rest of their lives; killing an Assault 'Mech's pilot but leaving the machine mostly intact for salvage. "Kill the meat, save the metal", the saying went. On any other day, Cian would have let out an ecstatic cheer.
Instead, he cried out in pain as the AC/20 round tore El Cid's right arm and a section of the torso away, causing feedback through his Neurohelm. He was barely aware of the fact that the 'Mech's left arm, already heavily damage, had been severed by the Atlas's lasers before the AC/20 had even fired. Cian tasted blood and needle-like agony in his left eye heralded it suddenly going dark.
That wasn't the only source of pain. Cian realized the bottom right of his cockpit was open to the air, and the AC/20 round had turned his 'Mech's armor and internals into heated flechettes. His cooling vest was punctured, coolant hissing from pressurized tubes and mingling with blood as it ran down a right arm and shoulder riddled with shrapnel. Judging by the fire in his right leg, it had been shredded, too.
Have to pull back. Have to pull back. Cian clung onto that directive like it was the last gasp of oxygen he was ever going to get. His HUD was full of warnings, multiple alarms blaring in his ears. Cian got El Cid moving, pulling back. All he had left was a single medium laser in the Knight's left torso and the small laser on its head. Not enough to make any difference. The only reason Cian could imagine he got away was the sudden death of an Atlas gave nearby Lyran units pause.
There was chatter on the radio. Other members of Dusk Company were calling for help. Major Trent was down. Other units along along the line of advance were requesting support. Thanks to Marshal Ermolli's haphazard and overconfident advance, the FWLM forces were overextended, swathes of it being encircled and destroyed.
Finally, a voice on the comms was ordering a retreat. Cian didn't register who it was, only that it wasn't the Marshal.
What passed was a blur as Cian fought against both the damage to himself and his 'Mech. A blur. That was all the justice he could give to a hundred stories of horror and heroism as his fellow soldiers of the Free Worlds League fought and died. He didn't give in to the sweet embrace of oblivion until he was up the ramp of a Leopard DropShip he could only hope was the one he was supposed to get aboard. Once his 'Mech was in place, Cian finally slumped against the harness of his seat and lost consciousness.
"…no doubt by now, dear listener, you know how this part of the tale goes. As it went on almost every other world we've discussed in this series, so, too, did it go on Sherbrooke. The 9th Skye Rangers, with three full standard regiments of the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces and elements of the Sherbrooke Planetary Militia, managed to almost completely encircle and almost entirely destroy the 17th Regulan Hussars and two regiments of the Free Worlds League Military.
The LCAF's commander, Hauptmann-General Mikhail Burgess, displayed a keen understanding of his FWLM counterpart, Marshal Gustav Ermolli, heir-apparent to the Principality of Regulus. Knowing of Ermolli's brash inexperience, Burgess expertly baited FWLM forces into an ill-advised advance into Sherbrooke's capital city, Fairstone, keeping most of his 'Mechs powered down, many vehicles concealed by superficial rubble, in parking garages, and the like. This simple deception had the desired effect upon Ermolli.
The end result was staggering; three-quarters of the FWLM forces were killed, wounded, or captured, including ninety percent of the 17th Regulan's MechWarriors. The 17th would go on to be disbanded. The Free Worlds League press, desperate for any positive spin to come from Operation Killing Stroke, hailed the 17th as valiant heroes who, thanks to their sacrifice, were the only reason any FWLM forces managed to escape what would come to be known as the Shame at Sherbrooke. Obviously, I wasn't there, dear listener, and can't speak for the truth or falsehood of that claim. All I know on this matter is the fact that, when the few surviving MechWarriors of the 17th were given the option between honorable discharge and being folded into other regiments of the Hussars, only two of the surviving seventeen chose reenlistment.
Even now, we're feeling the aftershocks of the Operation Killing Stroke in sweeping political events currently rocking our great nation. I speak, of course, of the formation of the Silver Hawks Coalition earlier this year, and the growing doubt in the ability of House Marik to continue leading the Free Worlds League…"
-excerpt from the audio series "What Led Us Here: A Historical Analysis", by Ekene Awoti, Free Worlds author, news presenter, and political commentator