Drop Zone Phi,

Einstein, Deep Periphery

9^th March 3068

 

“What in heaven’s name happened to yer mech!” Pascal Thome screamed in despair as he glared at the mech in front of him.

Ian Dorlacen climbed down from his cockpit wearily. “The Falcons happened to it. Don’t worry, its mostly armor damage only. Superficial stuff.”

“I’ll believe that when I inspect its innards!” Pascal continued on his rant as he waved his crowbar dangerously close at Ian. “Why I ever chose to join up as yer tech chief, I never know. All you give me is more trouble.”

Stepping to one side, Ian dodged the imposing implement. “Hey, trust me, will you? At least we didn’t lose any mechs!” He shouted back. Ian was not feeling charitable either, due to the losses his unit had taken. The last thing he wanted now was a fight with his tech chief.

“I would have preferred that yer mechs were lost! Then me and me boys wouldn’t have to fix up these walking wrecks!” Pascal smashed the crowbar several times against the left foot actuator of the Awesome for emphasis. The armor was almost all melted away, and strands of myomer could be seen through the holes.

“All right, all right. Bonus pay for this repair, this time?” Ian was too tired for another fight, after the vicious one he had just been through.

That seemed to mollify the raging tech chief. ”Ok, but you’d better remember! Not like on Sheratan when you promised but used the money to fix up the dropship instead!”

“Sure.” Ian replied as he hurried through the bay doors of the Fortress-class dropship to the sickbay. He had more important things to worry about.

It was a horrific sight as he walked through the cargo bays. The injured PBIs had been brought into the dropship directly by the jeeps and MASH vehicles, all to get them to the medical center more quickly. This was obvious by the trails of blood and gore that marked the passage of the wounded. Melted flesh and burnt skin were very much in present all over the floor, the stench almost overpowering. Ian had to swallow his own bile as it rose up into his throat.

The infantry had suffered almost fifty percent casualties.

The only good thing that had happened from the battle was the escape of his fire lance from the Nova unit chasing them. They had snucked into a cave and shut down their mechs, leaving no fusion signal for the Falcons to track. The Falcons withdrew soon after to rejoin their unit.

As Ian walked into the med center, he was struck by the gruesome scene of dead and dying soldiers stacked up in various corners of the overcrowded room. Wails of pain and grunts of struggle could be heard as injured men fought yet another war, this time for their lives.

A medtech saw Ian as he walked in, and quickly gestured him to follow. Ian nodded, knowing that he was to follow.

He was led to a bed, where a grizzled soldier was lying. The soldier was missing parts of his left leg and arm. There was blood all over the bed, soaking the white sheets in waves of red. His eyes were blurred with pain, and spittle could be seen on the corners of his mouth. He was still cognizant of his surroundings, though, and tried to sit up when Ian approached.

“Stay still Captain. Don’t get up. How’re you feeling?” Ian held out his hand, not wanting to put his friend through any more pain. He sat on a nearby stool, so that the other soldier would not need to strain to speak.

“Like… hell, sir.” The whispered words came from Captain Sachin with difficulty. He was dying from sheer blood loss. “At least the plan worked.”

The ploy of using troops hidden in the treetops had come from Captain Sachin. He had convinced Ian to use them, in spite of the strong likelihood that losses were going to be hideous if the Falcons managed to retaliate. Which is exactly what happened.

“I’m sorry, Sachin. Fifty percent casualties for your men in return for zero mech losses. I don’t know if it’s worth it. I don’t even know how long we can keep this up if the damn Falcons keep throwing whole Supernovas at us. I shouldn’t have listened to you.”

“Heh. Remember Ian, … lives… are cheap.” Sachin said, forcing the words out, “Battlemechs… aren’t.”

The infantry captain tried to draw in one last breath, but then his body finally failed him. He relaxed, and his eyes went blank. Ian hesitated, then gently drew his hands over the man’s eyes, closing them for his friend’s eternal sleep.

The mechwarrior sat by the bed for several long moments, holding back his tears, building up a slow, strong anger. The dead captain had been a good friend and soldier, constantly covering his back during the long, vicious campaigns in the Chaos March. It had been Sachin who had taught Ian the finer points of combined arms fighting, more specifically between vehicles and ground troops. Ian knew he would miss the veteran’s advice in the coming days.

He looked for the doctor, and found him trying to amputate an arm off a screaming female soldier. Knowing that there was no point in staying there any longer, he left the room. He was depressed enough without having to watch more of his troops die.

Almost immediately, he bumped into Drenner. The big elemental was dragging dead bodies out of the medical center and packing them into plastic bags, where they would be later buried on Einstein. Mercenaries without a home, they laid their dead to rest wherever they were stationed. It was a long tradition, established long ago since the start of the Succession Wars.

Drenner did not seem too dismayed by the task confronting him. Ian noticed that clanners did not have the same level of reverence for life that people in the Inner Sphere have, which made them extremely suited to a life of war and death. Maybe that’s why they’ve managed to conquer so much of the Successor States in so short a time, Ian thought.

He was shaken out of his musings when Drenner waved a massive hand in front of his face. “Sir, are you feeling well?”

Ian sighed. “I’ve just lost half of my groundpounders, as well as my infantry commander, who’s an old friend from the beginning. What do you think? Right now, I feel like shit. I really envy you clanners. You just don’t have the same emotional hang-ups that we have.”

Drenner scratched his chin. “I am not sure what you mean, but in the clans, warriors are honored for valiant deaths, not mourned. These soldiers died bravely, meeting their fate like true warriors. There is no need to grieve.”

Ian certainly understood what the elemental meant, but he still had difficulty accepting that view. He realized that this issue of the sanctity of life was one of the major differences between the clans and the Inner Sphere. He doubted he could ever bring himself to understand their beliefs, which were almost alien at times.

“By the way, Major Ian, who was the Falcon commander? It does seem unfair to us that Galaxy Commander Danforth would have sent an entire Supernova Trinary after you. It is high praise indeed for a mercenary battalion.”

“High praise? I’d rather do without that, thank you very much. As for the Falcon commander, it’s one Star Captain Daniela Mattlov.”

Drenner visibly shuddered at the name. “Well, that does not bode well for your chances. She is a ristar in the clan, and great things are expected of her in the future.”

“A ristar? What’s that?”

“A ristar is, for all intents and purposes, a ‘rising star’, which is used to denote anyone who has great skill and ability. To be deemed a ristar is to be marked for a successful career as a warrior in the clans. I had hoped to be labeled as such when I was younger, but it was not to be.”

“So ristars are tough, huh?”

“Aff.”

“And this one’s in command of a Supernova trinary ready to nail our hides. No offense, Drenner, but it looks like you would be rejoining your clan in no time soon.”

Drenner gave a sly smile. “It would seem dishonorable of me and the other bondsmen if we do not aid our present ‘clan’, that is, you, in this conflict. Even if we were taken back if you lost, we might not be acknowledged as true warriors, for we did not behave as such. You remember that there are at least ten elemental suits taken by your troops when we surrendered?” He continued to pack another body, oblivious to Ian’s look of distaste.

“You’re implying that…”

“We, as in the elementals you captured, are now willing to fight for the Arch Lancers. We do so not only because we want to prove our worth as warriors, but also because we feel that the clan has abandoned its honour in sending an entire supernova trinary at your unit, a measly battalion. What we are doing simply makes the coming battles more balanced. Still, a fight against overwhelming odds. What clansman would abandon such a chance at glory?”

“I’m flattered, really, but…”

“Do not hesitate, Major. Use us well, and who knows, victory may yet be yours.” Drenner left with this parting shot as he slung three corpses wrapped in plastic with ease over his shoulders and marched down the corridor.

Ten elemental warriors. Ian thought to himself. He remembered long discussions with Sachin over coffee at night over possible uses of armored infantry in tandem with other combat units, coming up with several innovative tactics. This was when the Inner Sphere armies had started adopting battlearmor of their own, especially the more specialized versions like the Achileus, the Purifier, and Infiltrator Mk 2. He had long tried to get enough funds to outfit the infantry with such equipment, but there never was quite enough money to do so, between upgrading the mechs, buying more vehicles, or simply maintaining their ancient dropship.

He finally had a chance to use those tactics now, though he was sad that it had to be after Sachin died. Two elemental points were easily worth two whole infantry platoons in firepower and endurance, and their anti-mech capabilities make them even more useful in mech combat. The beginnings of another outrageous plan began to form in his mind.

He went back to the repair area, where Pascal and his techs were swarming over the mechs, trying to get them repaired in time for the next battle.

“Pascal! I need you to get me some techs and send them to the Star League base! I’ve a plan for the next fight!” Ian yelled.

 

Back in her makeshift office, Daniela Mattlov was busy resisting the urge to tear out her hair and scream in frustration. She had outnumbered and outgunned the Arch Lancers, and yet they were still able to squeak out a draw. She had been as cautious as possible, she had not underestimated them in any way, but they simply refused to play by the usual rules, and had managed to pull out a trick from their hat just as she was sure her Falcons would win.

The Nova chasing the vehicle company had been led on a merry chase up and down the plains, losing a mech to actuator damage, easily repaired, and several elementals due to long range sniping, but had managed to destroy three vehicles in return. It was a marginal victory for the Falcons, but Daniela had expected better.

The Nova that had split off to pursue the smaller four mech Lancer force had eventually lost their prey amongst the thick forest of the Whining Pines. In essence, it was a draw, but Daniela privately considered it a loss. They should have managed to track down the mercenaries and annihilated them.

Finally, there was her own unit, which had engaged in such a brutal fight that the technicians had reported that it would take at least three days before her mechs were fully operational again. She had suffered mostly armor damage to her mechs, but quite some internal wounds as well, with some limbs severed on the mechs. The elemental losses were more worrying, twelve elementals from her command Nova lost in combat, and twenty-one overall, almost a full star.

She had been surprised by the sudden appearance of infantry in the treetops, and that had led to an inexcusable lapse in concentration, which in turn had led to the stalemate. Her offer of hegira was forced, but in hindsight, she did feel that the Arch Lancers had fought well and bravely, even if they did not adhere to clan rules of engagement.

The mercenary battalion was obviously full of tricks, and they were likely to have even more in store for her Falcons. No surprise there, but she did feel sorry for the mercs, judging by the fact that during the invasion, an unit like hers was capable of defeating, and did defeat, inner sphere regiments on its own, and yet was pitted against a single battalion in this case. The mercs were simply seeking to survive, and they were doing so admirably.

She was surprised, however, by the offer of a future duel from Major Ian Dorlacen. She was also much surprised by the amount of skill he possessed, as evidenced by his shooting off her Warhawk’s arm in the battle, in return for only armor damage on his Awesome.

If they had been using mechs of equal ability, she knew that she would have lost, and lost badly at that. For a proud Jade Falcon, that was a particularly galling fact to admit, but Daniela forced herself to acknowledge the truth. She saw no point in lying to herself. Her bluntness had caused her no small amount of trouble in the past, but she felt it was a good philosophy for a Falcon.

She had accepted his challenge on the spur of the moment, without thinking it through at the time. Now, she was beginning to have second thoughts. Even so, she could not imagine a way of having the duel, unless she won and took him as a bondsman. She did not think he would be alive if his unit lost anyway. As a Jade Falcon, she had agreed to the duel, and honor-bound to ensure that it occurs. If her current problems were not difficult enough, now she must also seek a way to defeat the Arch Lancers without killing their CO, in order for them to have their duel.

In any case, he was an elite mechwarrior, with a sense of honor to match, despite employing despicable tactics to win. Daniela had been in the Inner Sphere long enough to recognize that not everybody had the same code of honor the clans have, but have other, equally valid ones. He obviously wanted satisfaction from being outmatched by her Warhawk.

Groaning, she leaned back in her seat. She could win the campaign eventually, but she was afraid that her losses would be too severe. Severe enough that Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth might decide that she was still too raw and inexperienced to command a cluster.

And a cluster command was what Daniela really wanted. She knew she was good, and she had talent. She had attained her bloodname when she was twenty-five, and now at thirty-one, she felt ready to command a whole cluster.

In the clans, age was a warrior’s worst enemy. By thirty, if a warrior had not attained Star Captain rank at the very least, it was certain that most commanders would have given up on the warrior ever achieving the rank, with solahma duty on the way in one quick year. Likewise, the age threshold for Star Colonelcy was about thirty-five. Forty for Galaxy Command. Daniela was getting anxious, with only four more years before she would be dumped into the solahma bin.

She wanted to last long enough to take part in the renewed invasion when it comes, but with the clan still regaining its strength, and with most of the other clans either unwilling or unable to execute a second invasion even in 3069, it was getting obvious that Clan Jade Falcon would have to go it alone, or perhaps with the hated Wolves as unlikely allies.

To this end, Khan Marthe Pryde had decided to increase the Touman yet again, with sixty clusters as the new target in five year’s time, even more than the traitorous Ghost Bears. Sibkos had been pushed into accelerated programs and freeborn recruitment had soared in the past few years, as Clan Jade Falcon continued to recover from the ruinous Refusal War and the furious repositioning on the Lyran border for the drive towards Terra during the recent Federated Commonwealth Civil War.

But in order for Daniela to take part in the liberation of Terra, she had to avoid being relegated to the ranks of the solahma by winning a Trial of Position for the rank of Star Colonel.

The present campaign had been a good opportunity for her to show her mettle, and hopefully gain the eye of the Khan with excellent results. She had hoped to gain command of one of the new clusters formed to strengthen the Touman, but she reckoned that there was little chance of that now.

Judging from her simulations and extrapolation of the day’s results, defeat of the mercenaries was almost inevitable. She had lost almost a star of elemental, in return for an estimated two platoons of infantry killed, and three vehicles. At the present rate of attrition on both sides, she would win in the end, but with almost sixty percent losses. In other words, unacceptable losses.

How to win without incurring such losses? She wondered.

Just then, there was a knock, no, more like a bang, on her door.

“Come in!” She shouted.

The man who walked through the door had a furious expression on his face as he entered the room and stomped right up to Daniela’s table without a single word of greeting.

“What is it this time?” She asked wearily, already half-suspecting the answer.

Star Commander Jedec roared back, “Those filthy sibbies have gone too far! They are ill-disciplined, arrogant sons of bitches! They should all be taken out, shot, and deposited to be food for pigs!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Your speech has been corrupted by living in the Inner Sphere. Furthermore, you have not answered my question, Star Commander.” She spoke in an icy voice, putting some emphasis on his rank.

“Ten minutes ago, just because his mech had lost all of the actuators on one leg, Mechwarrior Orden and his ilk decided to take out his anger on some of the techs servicing the mechs. Two techs are now in the sickbay with broken limbs, and three more being treated for concussions. The doctor refuses to let them return to work, citing that they might make critical errors in the state they are now in. Because of this, the chief tech tells me that it would be impossible for him to get all our mechs ready in three days time.”

Daniela could only put her head in her hands in despair. The sibbies were going to be the death of her.