The Door, Copernicus Caldera,

Einstein, Deep Periphery,

14^th March 3068

 

Punching his visual sensors to their maximum magnification, Ian Dorlacen could see the massive air battle going on in the distance, a swarm of angry locusts swarming over the unfortunate Falcons. His own troops were waiting nervously for the doors to be cleared by the other mercs.

Just seconds ago, a lone Falcon fighter had approached the door, followed by at least 7 more black fighters, which Ian figured to be drone controlled, just like the Spidercrabs.

He had instructed the dropships and his own mechs to throw up a wall of defensive fire, specifically at the black fighters, and leaving the Scytha alone. He had a feeling that the Falcons would soon be the least of their worries.

The Scytha had smashed into the mountain, while the black fighters had followed suit. The Falcon pilot had managed to eject, and was presently drifting down on his parachute, where a number of Lancer infantry were waiting to take him into custody.

He turned his attention back to his radar screen. He had gotten the Battle’s Bane to give him a direct laser feed for its sensors, rather than relying on his own Awesome’s antiquated systems.

Almost a whole cluster of Falcons had grounded near the edge of the caldera, fifteen kilometers away. They were being pressed on all sides by a mass of black machines, highly reminiscent of Deserk’s dreams that Frank had mentioned during the final briefing. The Falcons were slowly working their way to Galileo’s Tower, and had managed to shift the battle five kilometers nearer.

The black machines were from the massive saucer like ships hovering over the battlefield. A few of the saucers were advancing towards the Door, though, which made Ian very, very nervous.

 

Corporal Tom Huckley raised his SMG to the alert position as the man in the parachute came down. His squad followed suit, as they quickly established a perimeter around the Falcon pilot.

He held up his left arm, to signal his troops to hold their fire as he walked up to the Falcon. The clan aerospace pilot had landed just before he was completely covered by his parachute, and was only just struggling out of the tangle of nylon and wires.

Tom walked up to within five meters of the pilot and shouted, “Hold your hands up where I can see them!”

 

Galietra froze as he heard the words. He had plenty of time coming down to spot the mercenary troopers, and he had planned to go down fighting, hopefully taking a few of the enemy with him.

That was clearly impossible now, with his arms still stuck within the tangle of the parachute and the troopers already with their guns aimed at him. Bowing to the inevitable, he raised his arms in surrender.

 

Tom recalled Major Ian’s orders concerning the clan warrior, and said, “Warrior of Clan Jade Falcon, the Arch Lancers hereby claim you as bondsman. Do you understand and accept this decision?”

Galietra nodded his head sullenly. He had no other choice. He had no wish to die a futile death.

Tom lowered his SMG and beckoned the other members of his squad forward as he helped the clan warrior from the parachute.

“I’m Corporal Tom Huckley, what’s your name?” Tom asked as he pulled Galietra up.

“I am Galietra Binneti. Who is supposed to be my bondsmaster? You?”

Tom laughed. “Of course not! That would be the Major, I guess. Come on, we don’t have much time left. Here’s my comms. Major Ian wants to speak to you.” As he said this, Tom started the group moving back to the vicinity of the Doors.

Gal followed the mercs, and he glanced inquiringly at the massive hole in one side of the mountain before taking the proffered handset.

 

Ian did not waste time with pleasantries. He had a whole lot of questions to ask the former Falcon, and he wanted answers fast.

“Bondsman, this is Ian Dorlacen, commander of the Arch Lancers. What is your name?” He literally barked. His eyes were transfixed on the radar feed from the dropship, as it showed the movement of the saucers as they moved slowly towards the Door.

“I am Galietra Binneti.” The reply over his earphones was sullen, angry, and short, which Ian knew was typical for captured clanners.

“I’ve got a few questions, so answer me quick. What happened out there? What were you doing with the dropship?”

“We were on our way to attack this encampment when the black machines appeared from the ocean. They attacked us, and we defended ourselves as a matter of course. The dropship dropped off its mech detachment before returning to the aerial battle.”

“What are the units involved with the your attack?” Ian asked.

“The units involved are Rho Galaxy Command Trinary, Supernova Trinary Bravo and Trinary Gamma from the 124^th Striker.”

Ian mused over the info for a while. The presence of the Galaxy Command Trinary could only mean that the Galaxy Commander had put in a personal appearance. And the Arch Lancers were already well-acquainted with Supernova Trinary Bravo.

He asked Gal, “So Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth is here, quiaff?”

“Aff. She wanted to destroy you and claim the Star League base for herself.”

Ian laughed loudly as he heard this. “No, this is no Star League base. It is something far older, and quite possible the cause of the black machines. It is an alien base!”

“Impossible!” Even over the radio, the Falcon’s disbelief was plain.

“Why don’t you go in with the rest of my troops and see for yourself? Now hand the set over to Corporal Huckley.” There was a short shuffling sound.

“Tom here.” The voice of the infantryman came in a few seconds later. “What do you want us to do with this guy, sir?”

“Keep an eye on him, and take him into the base. It might be even better if you could get Lieutenant Drenner to talk to him for a while. And I know you guys already have all the scuttlebutt on what’s going down, that’s why I mentioned the aliens. But keep your mouth shut. No need to advertise this little tidbit. Lancer One out.”

Ian opened a line to Frank next. The Night Gyr had now moved into the long corridor, while the advance search teams were heading ever deeper into the complex.

“Raider Lead, this is Lancer One. We just captured a Falcon pilot, and he gave us a few useful squawks. Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth’s somewhere in that class A snafu out there, and she’s got almost a whole cluster with her. The saucers are coming just a bit too quickly for me to feel comfortable right now, and I think we had better get the dropships into the complex soon.”

“I’m working on it.” Frank replied. “I don’t know if the floor can take the heat from the dropship engines, but I think we’ve cleared enough space in here for all our dropships to land. The ceiling is high enough, while there’s a lot of width here. This corridor’s sloping downwards gradually, and I have no idea where it’s leading. I think you can pull your guys in here now. But I’ve got another plan.”

“What’s that?”

“Save the Falcons.”

Ian was flabbergasted. “Raider Lead, are you out of your mind? Those Falcons want us dead!”

“I know, I know. But think about it. We save Lizabet Danforth, and then she will owe us big time. That could be one heck of a bargaining point later. What do the rest of you think?” Frank asked on the open channel.

“This is Ranger One.” It was Hamirah Rasouf. “I refuse to take any action that might profit the clans. I will not allow any of my troops to take part in your foolish scheme.”

Robert Feehan agreed with Frank. “This is Warrior One. I think we should help. Those black machines don’t seem too discriminating in their choice of targets. I say we help.”

One by one, the mercenary commanders voted in the impromptu poll. It came down to Ian, who had the final vote, which would decide the tie.

He sighed in his cockpit. There are a number of factors to consider. First, while he had just said that he did not really trust the Falcons to cut them a bit of slack, he also knew that the addition of the Falcon mechs would be a great boost if they had to fight the black machines, which seemed unavoidable. The black machines, judging from their similarity to the Spidercrabs, would just as eagerly attack the mercs if given the chance.

Second, the numbers of the black mechs being reported by the Battle’s Bane was overwhelming even its sensors. The last count had stopped at about 800 non-merc, non-Falcon fusion signatures surrounding the Falcons mechs, not counting the black fighters in the sky, which were now flying off into space. Ian guessed they were going to attack the Falcon warship.

The odds were bad, and Ian figured that having the Falcons dead at the hands of the black machines was not exactly an assurance that the mercs would survive either. Better that they fight off the enemy together, then settle amongst themselves for the spoils. There was a case for working together.

Thirdly, there was the matter of his duel with the commander of Supernova Trinary. He felt obliged to ensure that it comes to pass, for honor, and also to prove that he was the better warrior. Pride was a huge motivating factor for any warrior.

Fourth, and last of all, and perhaps most importantly, there was that strange little vision before the Door was opened.

He finally answered, “This is Lancer One. I say we help them. No matter what the Falcons did, they treated us and the warriors they captured reasonably. All we can expect from these black machines is a mass grave. Better the Falcons than these strange drones. Let’s fight them!”

Without waiting for a reply by Frank, he switched over to the Lancers’ general frequency. Ian quickly gave his orders. “All Lancers, listen up! We’re going on a extraction and rescue op. We’re going to pull the Falcons’ feathers out of the fire, and anyone who doesn’t like it can stay behind! Lancer Toad One, get your men to hitch a ride on the nearest mech. Lancer Tracks, cover our flanks. All mechs follow me!”

As he said so, Ian started his Awesome running towards the battle in progress fifteen kilometers away. As he did so, the entire Arch Lancer force swung in behind him, along with some other merc units, mostly fast tanks, tagging behind.

Ian could hear that Frank was busy as well, quickly deploying the mercenaries, or at least those willing to help the Falcons. “All units, this is Raider Lead! I want a line covering the Lancers’ rear! Those saucers are coming in fast and I don’t want the Lancers to get cut off when they get back! The Raiders will establish a line ten clicks out. The Warriors will form a line five clicks out. Scorpion One, you join the Warriors. All available tanks will hook up with the Warriors. The rest of you who don’t want to rescue the turkeys, hold the fort. Bird Lead, your fighters are free to launch and engage. Keep the saucers away. All Nests, get your engines fired up. It’s time to roost in here.”

The rest of the mercs moved into action. All those who had voted to help the Falcons carried out Frank’s orders, while the remaining fighters launched from the dropships, seeking to destroy or disable the saucers before they could release their deadly cargo near the Door. Rising on tongues of nuclear flame, they prepared for the second aerial battle of the day over the caldera.

 

The machine intelligence was perplexed that it had lost three of its motherships so quickly. The flesh beings were fighting better than it had ever anticipated.

Far, far better than the laughable attempts of the Qlictorio Alliance. Masters of science they might have been , but woefully lacking in the arts of war, every single member race of that long extinct alliance almost pacifist in nature.

These flesh beings were much different. The machine intelligence had never met opponents as tenacious and skilled as these. It had assumed that its fighters would overwhelm the flesh-beings in the skies and on the ground within minutes, yet the battle was still waging furiously.

Its sole space vessel, a light cruiser left in the gas giant, was now engaged in a deadly dance with the flesh-beings’ space-faring ships. The battle was even thus far, with the cruiser forced to divert a great deal of energy to its shields to avoid hull damage, therefore leaving less energy for its own weapons to hurt its enemies. The machine intelligence was resigned to the fact that its creators did not equip the cruiser with antimatter torpedoes or even fusion ones that would have easily won the battle against the shieldless human ships.

The human ships had even sent smaller ships against the cruiser, with surprising effectiveness. At the very least, it was devoting more energy to defense than to attack. It was also not fast enough to spool up the hyperdrive to evade the enemy shots.

Its own fighters had mostly been sent into space to occupy the enemy fighters and warships, with only a handful left to defend the weaponless motherships. It did not want the enemy warships to fire its weapons from orbit at the motherships, which would be disastrous. The motherships were capable of quick vertical movement, for quick orbital drops, but their speed in horizontal directions was extremely slow, which would make them fine targets for orbital fire. They were never meant for extended planetary actions in the first place.

The doors were still open, and it had sent its nearest motherships with full loads of combat drones towards it. Unfortunately, it had devoted a lot of drones to the battle on the edge of the caldera, and they were suffering tremendous losses.

The base was still the overriding concern, however, and the motherships would be at the door soon. Once they get there, entering the base should be easy for the forces it had sent.

 

Stepping her Warhawk sideways desperately to avoid a series of PPC blasts, Daniela Mattlov blinked away the beads of sweat forming on her eyelids. The heat in her cockpit was steadily rising, and things did not seem to be improving any time soon.

The Falcons had grounded near each other while under attack from the various black fighters. Thankfully, none of the mechs were heavily damaged.

Under Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth’s instructions, they had turned their guns on one of the saucers slowly making its way over the beach. They had downed it, but in reply, the other saucers had disgorged more black machines from their bellies as they dropped to near ground level. This time, the machines were not fighters, but battlemechs.

As individual mechs, they were no match for the Falcon omnimechs. The first wave of enemy mechs fell quickly under the immense firepower of Daniela and her warriors.

As more and more black mechs appeared though, the Falcons found themselves slowly being pushed back. It was not long before they found themselves utterly surrounded on all sides.

Daniela had no idea what she was facing, but she did not believe she was facing mechs piloted by humans. The enemy mechs moved awkwardly, and she had never seen an ejection pod from a downed or destroyed mech since the start of the battle. This made her think that they were facing drone mechs.

In a way, that had her extremely worried. That meant that the enemy might not have any vulnerabilities in terms of morale and endurance. Even clan pilots, as well-trained as humanly possible, are still prone to collapse and physical exhaustion.

And Daniela knew they were fast approaching that point. They had already lost more than a star of mechs, and its destruction had split the Falcon forces. Her troops and those of Trinary Gamma in one group, and the Galaxy Commander in another. Daniela’s detachment had been trying to make their way to the middle of the caldera, where the Galaxy Commander had hoped that the mercenaries could attract some attention from the black mechs.

The Galaxy Commander’s force was now more than five kilometers away, being chased by almost a hundred more black mechs. Lizabet Danforth had split the Falcons to draw off part of the enemy, thinking that the smaller pieces could be more easily handled.

Faint hope of that happening now, Daniela thought as she blasted through the center of another black mech with her pulse lasers. The enemy mech collapsed to the ground, a smoking ruin. Two more machines advanced to take its place.

One of them was one of the few assault class mechs she had spotted within the enemy ranks. It had a large energy gun barrel on each arm, along with what she guessed to be a large-bore autocannon in the left torso.

The other one was in the by now familiar medium class, packing two large lasers and two mediums. It was not too big a threat, but there were so many of them. One of her warriors had jokingly called it a Lemming, initially because of their suicidal propensity to attack the Falcons. The joke turned out to be on the Falcons, as true to their name, more and more of them appeared to follow the first few in attacking the Falcons.

She had noticed something strange about the enemy machines. While they all consisted of four basic types, with the lightest being a 20 tonner they called an Ant, each basic type had a variety of weapons packages that was reminiscent of their very own omnimech loadouts.

Each weight class seemed to have a laser boat version, a SRM version, a LRM version, and an ballistic weapon version. The laser ones were the most frequently encountered, and by now they had faced enough opponents to know exactly what most types and subtypes packed in way of armor and weaponry.

The assault class mech fired first, a PPC bolt issuing from its right arm. The blast bit deep into her left leg, and she had to shift the weight of the Warhawk quickly to avoid falling. The medium mech followed up with two laser blasts, but both shots missed her mech by mere inches.

Turning her guns on the Lemming, she fired off her entire arsenal of pulse lasers and particle cannons, the weapons carving deep into the enemy mech and setting off a tremendous explosion as its fusion engine unleashed its bottled plasma. The explosion enveloped the other mech, staggering it as it continued to advance.

Daniela blinked away more sweat as the temperature in her cockpit soared. Her heat level was running near the red zone now, and any more increase in heat would result in more movement and targeting penalties. Her mech was already responding sluggishly to her commands, while her targeting circuits were showing her more and more interference.

Backing up the Warhawk a few steps to maintain her distance from the black assault mech she had dubbed the Bruiser, Daniela quickly checked on her warriors. Most of them were still fighting, but CLG was about to settle in quickly. Many mechs had lost more than half their armor, while a number had suffered internal hits. Trinary Gamma was much in the same condition.

Meanwhile, the black mechs kept on coming. Attempting to keep her heat levels down, Daniela fired only her two PPCs at the middle of the Bruiser. To her dismay, the shots did not penetrate into the center internals like they had the other black mechs, but were handily stopped by the thick armor on the mech.

Muttering out a few choice epithets, Daniela braced herself for the return salvo. Sure enough, this time it was another PPC blast, along with a large laser beam. Both shots hit, scoring on her mechs torso. This time Daniela managed to regain her balance quite handily, but the approaching shadows of yet another wave of mechs behind the Bruiser told her she had to finish it off now.

Taking a deep breath, Daniela moved her targeting cursor again. Settling it over the damaged center of the Bruiser, she prepared to fire. While the mech had managed to withstand her initial salvo, Daniela had never known a mech that could survive a full blast from the Warhawk, especially after it had already been mauled by two PPCs.

Holding her breath all the while, she pressed the trigger for her PPCs, followed by one pulse laser. The stream of electrons devoured the last of the armor protection, and went to work on the internals. The large pulse laser completed the job, as the Bruiser crashed to the ground.

She took advantage of her lack of immediate enemies to assist Star Commander Jedec in destroying a heavy class mech they called the Smasher. It was given the name due to its hard hitting weapons loadout, which consisted of two PPCs. While not as heavily armed as the venerable Warhammer, it still posed a deadly threat, especially in large numbers.

Trying to bring her heat levels back to minimal levels, Daniela fired only two large pulse lasers this time. The stuttering laser darts plunged into the enemy mech’s leg, which had already been denuded of armor by Jedec’s Summoner. The laser energy blazed all the way into the leg structure, effectively breaking the leg. The Smasher fell.

A panting Jedec said, “Thank you, Star Captain. But I fear we will not last much longer. I have only two gauss slugs left, and my SRM ammo is all gone.”

“Hang on, Jedec. We will break through to safety soon, or maybe reinforcements might be arriving if we can hold out long enough.” Fat chance of that happening, but she kept that sentiment to herself.

“You are lying. Nobody ever reinforces failure.” An old military cliché, but still true even in the modern age of battlemechs and warships. Daniela did not know how to respond.

Morale was hitting rock bottom. Even though she was feeling hopeless as well, she steeled herself for the task ahead. It would do them no good to feel negative. Even if they were going to die, she had decided that they would be taking as many enemies with them.

It took her a moment to realize that the next wave had not attacked immediately as expected. However, the Galaxy Command Trinary was by now 8 kilometers away, and still separated by almost a hundred more enemy mechs. A linkup was impossible.

What she saw coming at them next almost froze her blood. The Falcons had managed to hold out for so long solely because the enemy came at them in waves of about thirty to forty mechs each, spaced at about 90 second intervals. This had allowed the Falcons to eliminate one set of opponents quickly enough to regain their defensive positions and let their heat levels subside enough for the next wave.

No such luxury now. Daniela could count an entire phalanx of black mechs marching towards her battered troops, in more than ten deep rows of fifteen mechs each. Onward they marched in step, a rolling tide of death embodied in metal and plastic. There would be no piecemeal taking apart of the enemy this time. It would be a fight to the finish.

Daniela leveled the arms of her Warhawk at the enemy, as did the remaining Falcons. The range advantage they enjoyed meant that they could get in at least two punishing volleys before their opponents got into range.

A hail of fire erupted from the Falcon line, decimating the first line of enemies. Black mechs fell backwards from the devastating fusillade, the front row causing a ripple throughout the entire formation as they toppled down. As they fell back, they shoved against the mechs directly behind them. As those mechs affected in the second row stumbled to maintain their balance, the advance was temporarily halted.

The Falcons fired one salvo after another in massed fire, seeing their chance to do some real damage. The enemy had made a grievous error in advancing in such close file. Any disruption of the attackers in the front rank would make the task of the ones behind that much harder.

Black mechs in the next rank often had to step over the bodies of their fallen to get at the Falcons. With the mechs in the back pushing them forward, they had no choice but to continue advancing, on very shaky footing. The ground, littered with the metal husks of destroyed mechs, was proving as deadly to the black machines as the Falcons, as they provided very unstable fighting platforms on which to make a stand, as well as a stumbling block on their heels.

The entire front had stagnated, with the Falcons desperately trying to thin their enemies’ ranks before they were defeated by their own heat levels and by shortage of ammunition, while the black machines vainly pressed ahead, not knowing that it was their own tactics that was the main reason for their lack of progress.

If the machine intelligence had any idea of human history, it would have realized that it had used almost the exact same tactics as the French against the English at Agincourt more than 1600 years ago, and about to suffer much the same fate. It was not stupid, however, and had been readying another force of 30 heavy and assault mechs on one flank of the battle to hit the occupied Falcons.

As Daniela destroyed two more Lemmings with her pulse lasers and PPCs, she could see the new contacts on her flank. At that point, she knew her troops had reached the end of the line. The Falcons had fought bravely, and had held out far longer than anyone could expect, but she did not have anything left to send up against the new flank attack.

In her mind’s eye, she could already see the two enemy forces slowly enveloping her outnumbered mechs, splitting the attacks of the Falcons and causing less overall damage to the black mechs. The twin pronged enemy attack, one directly against their center, and one on the flank, would drive the Falcons from their defensive positions. Deprived of space to run or maneuver, her forces would soon die under overwhelming enemy fire.

Gritting her teeth as her Warhawk shuddered under the combined fire of two Smashers that had arrived on the flank, she decided to give her troops one last chance to escape the enveloping jaws of the enemy force. She pushed her throttle forward, charging straight at the enemy, unleashing the full weight of her guns against the weaker flank attack. If she could blast a hole through, her troops could disengage.

“Jedec, hold the line with Trinary Gamma!” The Star Captain in command of Trinary Gamma, Kresslock, had died when his Summoner’s engine had gone critical. Jedec, by virtue of his command of a Nova, had seniority only surpassed by Daniela on the field. She hoped she could count on him to hold the line while she sought to blast a way out.

Jedec’s Summoner replied by moving to the fore of Trinary Bravo, while laying down a burst of fire with its large pulse laser, the emerald darts peppering the black mechs.

There was not much left of Gamma, nor of Supernova Trinary Bravo. Out of their original combined starting strength of 30 mechs and 75 elementals, restored by transferring in survivors from other units, there were only 20 mechs and 45 elementals left.

“Olager, get about ten of your elementals into ambush positions among the mech wreckage. Pick the most badly injured. I need them as a holding force when we pull back.” She could see the elemental waving his arms in acceptance, as Olager bounded off among his troops to organize the rearguard.

The elementals had not been idle during the fighting, wrecking havoc amongst the enemy whenever there was a chance. They had long ago exhausted their SRM packs, and all the bulky launchers had been jettisoned.

It was a brutal decision to leave behind a suicide party, but a necessary one. They had tried to break out three times before, but each attempt had fallen short. She had to assume that the enemy was running low on available mechs to send at them. It was her last roll of the dice for survival.

She failed to pay enough attention to her own battle. One arm was torn off the Warhawk as a gauss slug from a Bruiser slammed into the mech’s shoulder. The Warhawk tottered, as Daniela reeled from the loss of the limb. Trying to stay upright as she fired her pulse lasers at the assault mech, she stomped desperately on her foot pedals. Tired from more than ten minutes of furious combat, her finely honed skills finally failed her, as she overcorrected, sending the massive mech to the ground.

The Bruiser did not seem distressed as the pulse lasers sent armor sizzling all over its legs. It stopped, pointing both arms at Daniela’s downed mech.

Sensing her opponent’s actions, Daniela stopped her frantic struggle to regain her feet. As she looked up, she found herself staring at the long, deep gauss barrels of the Bruiser. She fought the urge to close her eyes, wanting to stare death right in the face as it came upon her. Death in combat was all a warrior of the clans asked for.

Without warning, a hail of gauss slugs suddenly stormed out of nowhere, one of them neatly decapitating the Bruiser’s head. The assault mech crashed to the ground with an audible thump.

A group of hover vehicles slid into view, skirting the edge of the battlefield as they continued to fire heavy iron nickel slugs at the black mechs. It took Daniela a moment before she realized she should know these newcomers. She had seen them countless times on replayed battle ROMs, and their insignia of a helmet pierced by a lance was one she had faced two times already on the field.

Behind the vehicles, she could see the silhouettes of more than a company of mechs approaching her position, including the blocky and familiar shape of an Awesome assault mech.

The Arch Lancers had arrived, but Daniela hoped they were not just destroying the black mechs just so they could pick apart the Falcons themselves. She slowly stumbled the battered Warhawk to its feet.