Drop Zone Epsilon,

Einstein, Deep Periphery,

10^th March 3068

 

“Bryan, what’s the sitrep?” Frank asked as he ran his Night Gyr along a path created by the rest of the company ahead.

Bryan, who was leading the way towards the Falcons in his Fenris, and further afield than everybody else, answered, “Not good. My Beagle Probe is picking up at least six assault class tremors approximately 2 klicks ahead. The overlap’s too much for the probe to make any distinctions, but I can tell you we are going to get stomped!”

“Shut up Bryan, and clamp down on the defeatist talk.” Descartin cut in. “Frank, where are the Rangers? We need every mech we can muster here.”

“They’re two minutes back. Captain Rasouf is leading her surviving mech lance. If she doesn’t want to join us, I don’t blame her. Six assaults is quite a lot of firepower. I’ve already told Benny to let their dispossessed take any of our spare mechs, but Captain Rasouf is forbidding him to do so.”

While the twenty battlemechs of the combined Raider/Dragoon/Ranger/Goliath Scorpion force was very impressive, everybody knew the odds against an assault trinary were not going to be good.

Benny Greaves had been left back with the other three spare mechwarriors of the Rangers to have Frank’s spare mechs prepared for them. The addition of a Wasp, a Stalker, an Enforcer III, and the Dire Wolf salvaged from the last battle would turn the odds completely in their favour.

If only Hamirah Rasouf would allow her men to use them.

Apparently, she was not going to accept any favours from Frank, who she had refused to meet, or even talk to. Everybody, even her own troops, knew she was taking her vendetta too far, but she was still the Ranger’s CO, and they were soldiers with good discipline, unwilling to stage a mutiny.

Switching over to the Rangers tactical frequency, Frank could hear Benny continuing his campaign of persuasion on his superior officer.

“Sir, Commander Meronac’s right!” Benny was obviously trying very hard. “War is war, and it wasn’t personal. Can’t you just put it down to fate, and let the past be? God knows that with every battle we take part in, someone has to die. No different in the civil war. Kill or be killed, that’s our life. Are you going to take out your anger on Frank, who was only a pawn on someone’s chessboard? We are all pawns, dammit!”

“Captain Rasouf,” Frank interjected, “My scouts have picked up at least six assaults in front at one point five klicks. Get your mechs ready to engage.”

“Shut up! I don’t need your advice!” The response came.

“Captain!” Benny wailed. “Just let us use their mechs! We can settle it after we’ve won!”

“No!!” She angrily replied.

“Frank, heads up. We’re getting into combat range.” Kily reported from his new Wolfhound, formerly a Dragoon machine, but assigned to him after his Commando lost its arm, which they had been unable to replace at short notice. Frank could hear a certain newfound assurance and confidence in the young mercenary’s voice, where he would have once gave his report in a semi-panic.

Suddenly, there was a sudden transmission over Frank’s headphones.

A male voice came in. “Commander Frank, Star Captain Descartin Winters, this is Star Captain Harga. I have not forgotten my humiliation at your hands a few days ago. I will now regain my lost honour! You now face Trinary Bravo. Prepare to die!”

“Frank, are you receiving the challenge?” Descartin asked.

“Yup. He’s mad at us, all right.” Frank slowed his mech down, signalling to the rest of the unit to do the same.

“Here is my plan.” Descartin voice came over the comms. “Get your recon lance in a flanking attack to threaten their rear. The rest of us will engage at long range, crescent formation, anchors towards the Falcons. I will suggest concentrating fire on their heaviest machines. The recon lance must refrain from attacking until I give the signal. Keep pulling back constantly, so that when Benny Greaves and his men get permission, they don’t have to travel too far. Everybody got that?”

A chorus of ‘ayes’ and ‘affs’ replied, Frank’s among them. He knew that Descartin Winters was by far the most experienced warrior on their side, and was the best candidate to get them out of the mess they’re now in. He was not worried about ceding command to Des, but he wondered at the Seeker’s confidence that Benny would enter the battle.

Almost immediately, the recon lance led by Bryan peeled away in a rapid movement to the right flank, with Jean Posavatz’ Ryoken following to provide more firepower.

The rest of the mercs slowed to  form a crescent, directly countering the wedge formation of the Falcons as they approached. The four mechs of the Rangers took up a position behind the crescent, ready to support any position in the crescent should the front mechs falter, or to blast through if an opportunity presents itself.

Not that a Stalker, two Griffins, and a Lineholder could do much against clan omnimechs, Frank thought uncharitably.

The foremost charging mech of the Falcon wedge, a massive Daishi, came in at full speed as it fired at Des’ Nova Cat. Autocannon and laser blasts erupted throughout the battlefield as the battle got underway.

Frank, who was anchored on one of the crescent points, found himself facing a Cauldron-Born. It fired its Gauss rifle at his mech, the nickel-iron slug smashing into the left leg. A volley of pulse lasers from its left arm melted armour all over his middle.

Frank was not worried, letting his armour do its job while he locked onto the enemy mech with his lasers. Since the last battle, they had recovered enough salvage that some reconfiguring of the omnimechs was possible. Frank had stripped out the streak SRMs and a large pulse laser for a trio of extended range large lasers, wanting a flatter damage curve for his mech. The trio of lasers lashed out, scoring hits on the Cauldron-Born’s left and right torso. The exchange left Frank with a clear advantage in armour, which was already quite substantial to begin with.

Meanwhile, the rest of the unit was having some difficulty turning back the Falcon advance. Descartin squared off against the Daishi, every single one of his autocannon and heavy laser shots hitting the centre torso of the assault omnimech, tearing it apart with just one attack in an incredible display of skill backed up by a targeting computer.

The Daishi slammed down face first into the ground, as its compatriots continued to advance, firing their weapons. One Turkina, two Gladiators, two Masakaris, and three Kingfishers stomped their terrifying way into the merc lines, with another Night Gyr and a Thor following close behind.

It did not take the Falcons long to identify Descartin’s Nova Cat as the most deadly opponent, as they concentrated fire on it. Missiles explosions, PPC, and laser blasts bloomed all over the mech as Descartin tried to manoeuvre out of the way. As the explosions died down, Frank could hear sounds of relief all over the tactical net as a badly mangled, but still functional Nova Cat emerged, with almost no armour left, and a missing arm. In his short time with the mercs, Descartin Winters had made himself quite popular.

“Stravag Falcons! Take down the Turkina and the Warhawks, sorry, Masakaris down now!” A frantic Descartin yelled. “They have thrown away their own ROEs!”

The return fire of the mercenaries was no less impressive, as they extracted revenge for Descartin. Concentrating their own firepower on the Turkina and the two of the Masakaris, they managed to wipe most of the armour off the clan mechs. The Rangers chipped in with swarms of supporting LRM fire on the Turkina.

Frank found himself still engaging the Cauldron-Born, as the clanner closed in. He received a transmission from the enemy mech as it fired its large pulse laser and streak SRMs.

“I am Star Commander Lerner. Star Captain Harga has sent me to ensure your death. Now die!”

“Oh yeah?” Frank retorted as he kept his mech upright despite the damage taken. “Come and claim my life then, if you can!” As he said the words, he fired his ultra autocannon at Lerner, missing with one salvo, but hitting with the other. The shot hit the legs of the Cauldron-Born, and the mech suddenly staggered for a while before regaining its balance. Frank grinned, knowing he had likely destroyed one of the leg actuators.

That makes us even in speed now, Frank thought as he ignited his jumpjets, jumping to his left as he prepared to hit the rest of the Falcons from the rear after taking care of the Cauldron-Born.

The rest of the Falcon mechs had now split their fire, engaging each mercenary mech separately, with only the huge Turkina still fixated on Descartin. From their previous battle, everybody knew it was Harga’s mech, and from the way the Falcons had acted, he really wanted Descartin dead, maybe to make up for his earlier loss.

The Turkina fired its LB-20X autocannon, the shotgun shells blasting into the shattered Nova Cat, but failing to put it down. Laser pulses smashed into the left torso, destroying the engine and the targeting computer there. Defying all odds, the mech refused to die.

Fighting his rising heat levels, his damaged gyro, and his damaged engine, Descartin nevertheless responded with his remaining dual heavy lasers in his right arm, missing with one laser blast, but sending the other straight into the head of the Turkina, killing Harga immediately.

The Nova Cat shut down after that, its few remaining heat sinks strained to breaking point by the heat build-up in the last few moments. Descartin did not eject, electing to rejoin the battle once his heat levels were down. It was a huge risk he was taking to remain in an immobile mech during a battle, and every experienced mechjock knew it.

Anxious to keep the Falcons away from Descartin’s mech, the rest of the mercs also spilt their fire now, dealing out damage almost evenly among the attacking clanners but drawing much unwelcome attention. Mechs were damaged, and none were destroyed, but Geenan’s Vindicator came the closest with a damaged engine. Following Descartin’s plan, the mercs were moving backwards, but the Falcons were following close behind.

Frank heard many voices over the frequency calling for support. “Geenan! Get back to the Nile, your Vindie can’t take much more of this!” Kety moved his Gallowglas to cover his lancemate’s retreat as he barked out the order.

The Masakari they were both fighting fired its gauss rifle and the medium lasers at the retreating Vindicator, which were thankfully stopped by the Gallowglas, which had moved just in time to intercept the shots.

“Come on, parrot! Take on someone closer your own size!” Kety shouted as he triggered his own lasers, scouring armour off the clan omnimech’s flanks.

The Masakari was hardly fazed by the Dragoon’s bravado, however, and continued to advance. The rest of the Falcons had also weathered the mercenary attacks easily, the heavy armour of the assault mechs proving difficult to breach.

Frank unleashed another storm of depleted uranium rounds at the Cauldron-Born, followed by his medium pulse lasers. The autocannon fire missed, but both medium pulse lasers hit, one leaving meltmarks on the left arm, the other spitting ruby darts into the already damaged leg. The Cauldron-Born crashed to the ground, but not before launching one more attack at Frank’s Night Gyr.

The Gauss slug hit straight into the middle of the mech, sending Frank’s teeth to clatter painfully, reminding him once again why he hated facing gauss rifles. Pulse laser and missile hits all impacted on the legs, but did not come close to removing the thick armour there.

Out on the main battlefield, the retreating mercs had moved back quite a bit, leaving Frank and Deserk’s wrecked Nova Cat in their rear lines. The Thor moved back to remedy this problem. In the distance, Frank could see two more assault mechs approaching, which he took to be their rearguard, holding off his recon mechs.

Looking around, he could see the rest of the unit in trouble. The overwhelming firepower of the clan assault omnis was beginning to tell on the mercenaries, as breaches and damaged limbs, as well as pilots losing their mechs’ balance, were reported on the tactical frequency. Yoshino and Kety were trying to keep tabs on the situation, but it was clear that it would not be long before cumulative damage destroyed the mercs.

And then there was the Cauldron-Born at his feet. He could fire his weapons into the cockpit right now, and save time, or he could offer the pilot a chance to surrender.

Frank quickly made his decision, aiming his pulse lasers into the cockpit of the Cauldron-Born before it regained its feet. “Ten, nine, eight…” He started counting, broadcasting the countdown from his loudspeakers, hoping that Lerner would get the hint.

Lerner did, and scrambled out of the cockpit on his hands and knees just before Frank melted it into a mess of twisted and melted alloys.

“Frank, once you’ve finished showboating over there, get the Thor.” Descartin coughed once, obviously bothered by the intense heat inside his own cockpit. “I am bringing in the recon lance. Hopefully, they will be the hammer to my anvil. Keep the Thor off my back.”

“Affirmative.” Frank turned his Night Gyr to head off the Falcon heavy. He could see the merits in Descartin’s plan, but he also knew that their main force was bending under the pressure of the clan assault mechs. At this point, they needed a miracle, or at the very least Benny and his warriors in the spare mechs.

The Thor fired its PPC, the bolt of artificial lightning slamming into the right torso of the Night Gyr, frying electrical circuits throughout the mech. Flak rounds from the LB-X cannon nibbled away at the armour, but failed to get into the internals, while the LRMs made pockmarks on the mech’s legs and arms.

Ignoring the smell of smoke in his cockpit, Frank replied with his lasers, the beams lighting up the immediate area as they struck the Thor, evaporating armour and sending clouds of metal vapour into the air.

He could hear a dull roar behind him as the recon lance finally attacked, facing a Man O’War, another Turkina, and a Loki. The three clanners thought they had the upper hand until Descartin sent two heavy laser shots into the back of the Man O’War, damaging its engine shielding and gyro.

The main force was slowly crumpling under the hideous firepower unleashed against them. Glancing at his status screens, Frank could see that Pash and Tim had already ejected from their mechs.

The Falcons were not unscathed either, having lost a Masakari to Kety’s brutally effective laser fire. But there was still more than enough fight left in the clanners to crush the mercs.

Frank, getting desperate, simply dashed into medium range against the Thor, and fired all his weapons in a last ditch alpha strike to try to get to the Falcons’ rear. Autocannon rounds and laser blasts sizzled through the air as they wrought more damage on the Thor. Two of his lasers missed, flying off into the distance, as did one autocannon salvo. The rest hit, but failed to significantly weaken the clanner.

And Frank knew he had made a mistake, as klaxons and warning lights came on all over his console. Blasts of superheated steam streamed into the cockpit, scalding his skin before swept away by the overworked fans. He slammed down on two override switches, knowing that to shut down now was akin to committing suicide. Thankfully, the mech obeyed his commands, and continued to move.

The Thor had no such problems with heat, and continued to blast away with its full armament, shaving off layer after layer of armour off the Night Gyr.

Barely keeping his mech upright, Frank frantically tried to twist his mech around to avoid the worst of the enemy fire. He suppressed the urge to call for help, knowing that the others are having their own problems, and that no help would be forthcoming.

It was a full ten more seconds before his mech had cooled down enough for him to retaliate. By now, the Thor had closed to almost point blank range, pouring fire into the Night Gyr, which was taking internal hits to the legs and the arms, but thankfully for Frank not destroying any of the weapons. He lost his right foot actuator, though, slowing the mech down to a maximum speed of about fifty kph.

Snarling his teeth in rage, Frank jumped his mech over the Thor in a surprising move. The clanner was slow to react to Frank’s rapid movement, and as Frank landed behind the turning Thor, he fired every weapon he had. This time, he got lucky.

He managed to connect with all his short range weapons, and most importantly, both autocannon salvos went into the back of the Thor, followed by pulses of energy from his lasers. Puffs of smoke started coming out of the engine, and a terrible rattling sound could be heard coming from the omnimech even from Frank’s cockpit as the Thor collapsed from engine and gyro failure.

Frank gave a feral grin, exulting at his success before moving forward as fast as he can to catch up with the main battle. He hoped that the recon lance together with Descartin would be able to deal with the three rearguard clanners. His mech would be much more useful in attacking the enemy mechs from the rear.

The main battle had shifted more than a kilometre towards the Nile while he had been duelling with the Thor. Pushing his throttle forward, he quickly got into range of his ER large lasers, and made a quick assessment of the situation.

He was surprised to see that the lines had fully collapsed, with the mercs and the clanners engaged in a close quarters melee. One of the Rangers’ Griffins had its leg destroyed, and was currently propping itself up on one arm and providing highly inaccurate, but valuable all the same, supporting fire from its PPC. The rest of the mercs were putting a premium on evasive manoeuvres, or getting in close to kick out at the Falcons. Not at all encouraging for Frank.

Hamirah’s Stalker was on the ground, shifting around trying to regain its feet, but the lack of arms made the pilot’s task very difficult. Frank saw a Kingfisher standing over the Ranger CO, preparing to fire one last volley.

Uttering a quick prayer, Frank quickly lined up a shot for his battery of ER lasers, hoping that Lady Luck, or perhaps even God, would smile on him sufficiently for his shots to hit at seven hundred and fifty meters, at the very extreme range for his weapons.

You may hate me now, but everybody’s important if we’re going to get through this war. Frank mashed down hard on his trigger for his secondary targeting interlock circuit, which fires all his ER lasers.

Three emerald beams lashed out, only one of them hitting the Kingfisher’s right leg. But it was enough to save Hamirah, as the Kingfisher collapsed to the ground with its leg severed at the knee. Previous battle damage had already stripped all the armour from that limb, leaving it vulnerable to Frank’s attack.

“Captain Rasouf, we can’t hold out much longer!” Frank yelled at her as he picked up the pace again, closing in behind the Falcons. One Gladiator turned its attentions from the shattered Lineholder it had been slowly tearing into pieces to Frank’s approach. “Damn it! We need Benny and his men now! Get them in here!”

The Gladiator fired, its own heavy autocannon blowing off the Night Gyr’s left arm. Frank fired his jumpjets in a desperate evasion move as the Stalker got to its feet, launching a flight of SRMs at the clanner.

“No!” Captain Rasouf replied stubbornly as her Stalker continued its desperate attack, lasers blazing at the clanner.

The Gladiator turned responded in kind, its autocannon smashing aside armour plates on the Stalker. A bolt of man-made lightning flashed from its right arm, ready to devour the internal components of the Stalker.

Only to be stopped by Frank’s Night Gyr, as he raised his mech’s right arm to intercept the shot. A follow up laser blast slammed into the cockpit.

Frank was momentarily blinded by the hit, his eyeballs overloaded by the amount of intense light energy pumped into his cockpit. His arm was bleeding, the head armour insufficient to keep the full force of the shot from penetrating the cockpit.

“Come on, Captain! What would you accept before bringing them in? My death? Or yours?” Frank raged as he fired his own autocannon in reply, the wild shot missing completely. “I’ve already bled for you. What else do you want? The death of your men? What else do you want?” He yelled.

Frank swore he could hear her grinding her teeth before replying. “All right, dammit! You win!” Frank heard over his headset, as Hamirah begun another attack on the Gladiator. “Benny, you reading me? Get your butt in here ASAP!”

Just as the Gladiator was about to finish off the Night Gyr, a gauss round punched through its rear armour, followed by a steady stream of energy flechettes. The Gladiator’s torso telescoped downwards around its legs as its internal structure lost all integrity.

“Why, Captain, you had only to ask,” Benny came in sarcastically, “I know we should have waited, but this was really too important. Thanks for the orders anyway.” His newly acquired Daishi lumbered into view, followed by an Enforcer III.

The Falcons, realizing that the odds were no longer in their favour, turned to retreat. A Kingfisher held the back door open against the new arrivals as the Falcons dashed away from the field as fast as they can. The surviving mercs, emboldened by the arrival of Benny and his men, begun jeering at the running Falcons over the open frequency.

As they ran past Frank’s mech, Frank was astounded to realize that they did not take a single shot at him. He resisted the urge to fire at the retreating mechs. The battle was over. He was too drained, both physically, mentally, and emotionally to do more than listen to the cheers of the mercs.

“Hah, they are running!” Kily laughed. “Jerks! Running with their tails between their legs. This’ll teach you to mess with us!”

A cheer went up amongst the mercs, as the battered mechs of the recon lance appeared, with Descartin’s almost unrecognisable Nova Cat at their lead.

Against all odds, they had prevailed again.

 

Dropship Nile, In Atmospheric Transit

Einstein, Deep Periphery

 

Frank groaned at the butcher’s bill in front of him. Just when he thought things were getting better, reality would always find a way to knock him down again.

The group had been hammered hard in the day’s fighting. Pash Balaji had been killed when his ejection seat was shot down by one of the clanners. His Puma and Tim’s Gunslinger were destroyed so completely that they were unsalvageable. The rest of the mechs had the techs screaming with oncoming nightmares of overtime work.

The good news was that Hamirah had reluctantly agreed to a truce between her and Frank. It had taken a long talk by Descartin Winters after the battle before she finally agreed to the exchange. This had paved the way for the mercs to exchange equipment, ammunition, and most importantly, the key machine in the Rangers’ dropship.

Frank had no idea how the Goliath Scorpion Seeker had managed to coax her to the negotiating table, but he was grateful all the same.

Frank had agreed to exchange the Daishi, Wasp, Enforcer III, and the Stalker for the key machine, which had initially sent the other Raiders into fits of apoplexy. Some quick talking and persuasion, as well as a bit of literal arm twisting by Lorik convinced everyone that this was a good deal.

The fact remained that they have had good salvage from the field. The Turkina, Cauldron-Born, and the Kingfisher had been recovered sans several key parts, but the techs had assured him that they would be able to cobble something from the rest of the mech junk they had collected to get the mechs fully operational.

The rest of the Raiders wanted to stay long enough to give Pash a proper burial, but Frank had argued for a quick lift to find the Ragged Ones, who disappeared quite close to where Pidge’s Pigs had lost their key machine to the Falcons. The Falcon Binary which had won was still in the area, according to the latest reports, searching for the Ragged Ones. By getting there, they could hopefully get both machines, which would save a great deal of time.

Time which the mercs on Einstein were now short of. More than three regiments of mercenaries had been killed or captured by Clan Jade Falcon, and it seemed that more and more resources are being brought to bear on the most irksome units.

Of which Frank’s group definitely is one. He thought Lizabet Danforth must be getting sick and tired of reading reports on their victories.

Their best chance for long term survival would be to find the alien base. With it, any price could be negotiated for passage back to the Inner Sphere. Deserk and Decartin might not agree, but Frank could really see no other way out of their present predicament.

Hamirah Rasouf and her unit had agreed to rendezvous at the alien base site once Frank had found it. The more troops they have there, the greater their bargaining power.

Or so he hoped.

He looked up at Kety, who had passed him the initial report from the techs. The lanky Dragoon mechwarrior was doing a fine job of commanding their battle lance, but Pash’s death had seemed to shaken him. He slumped a bit, the loss of a lancemate, especially one under his command, had affected him quite a bit.

“You want to talk to me, Kety?” Frank asked.

“Yes. Frank, put someone else in charge of the battle lance.”

“Why?” Frank sighed, and placed the report on his table with his uninjured arm. “Because Pash died? If that was true, then I should let someone else take over too, since I wasn’t doing my job as a company commander.”

“I’m not saying you weren’t doing a good job…”

“But the truth is that I wasn’t prepared for this role, much like you weren’t. Damn it, who else can take over? Not Geenan, you have experience and seniority over her. Not Tim, because he simply lacks your tactical awareness. And not Gerhard, because he is too aggressive.”

“You could let Deserk take over.”

“Deserk doesn’t want to, and he says he made a mash of things while he was with the Nova Cats as a Star Commander, and Descartin Winters confirms this. Face it. It’s Hobson’s Choice out here.” Frank leaned back, trying to hint to Kety the end of their short discussion.

“Yes sir.” Kety sounded resigned to his fate, rather than accepting the assignment willingly. “Permission to leave, sir.”

“Granted.”

As Kety left the medical bay, Frank rubbed his weary eyes. Commanding a company was as difficult as he had imagined it would be. He looked over to Jadine Sheik’s bed, where the Dragoon captain was lying in her coma.

Wake up soon, Captain. He thought. I’m not sure how long I can keep on running this show.