Best Laid Plans

Novella II of the Chronicles of the 69th VXF

By Michael Todd

Cover Design by Catalyst Game Labs

Cover Art by Florian SpOoKy777 Mellies

Cover Alterations by Justin Kase

2015 Michael Todd.

All Rights Reserved. Classic BattleTech, BattleTech, Mech, BattleMech and
MechWarrior are copyright and/or registered trademarks of The Topps Company,
Inc in the United States and other countries. Catalyst Game Labs is a trademark of
InMediaRes Productions, LLC.

In case any of you missed it, this is a fan-made book and has no association or
approval, implied or otherwise, from Topps, InMediaRes or Catalyst Game
Labs. No challenge to their trademarks, copyrights or other intellectual property is
implied.

No part of this work may be altered or sold for profit, nor otherwise circulated in
any form other than that in which it is published.

Published by Michael Sigil Todd

Somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia

Second Printing: 2016

 Dedication

I would like to thank each member of the BattleTech Fan Fiction

Forum who have taken the time to read the Chronicles of the 69th
Virginia Expeditionary Force, especially those of you who have
commented, pointed out inconsistencies and made suggestions. Your
enthusiasm is what kept this story going.

I would like to also thank my wife, Mariam, my five children,

Layla, Ahmad, Isha, Anousheh, and Jasper, who endured endless
hours of my chattering on about BattleTech.

Also, Captain Jochen Weddle for dragging me back into the

Battletech Universe in the first place.

To Colonel Jason Henley and Lt. Jeff Hamilton for their

inspiration and finally a shoutout to Michael Stackpole for his own
fiction work in the Universe which has served me as a guiding light.

Finally, my thanks to Justin Kase for his willingness to create the

attractive cover for this work and to Florian SpOoKy777 Mellies
for the original artwork. As much as it pains me, I am also guilty of
judging a book by its cover and I can only hope my story does justice
to the work of these two individuals.

 Chapter 1
Galatea
Lyran Commonwealth
3041

Colonel Jason Henley sat behind his gunmetal desk in his office on
Galatea. He'd outfitted their entire quarters straight from the local Lyran
military surplus store. It gave the place a sense of home. As he looked
around, it struck him that he'd basically cloned the entire setup from his
time with the Third Lyran Guards. Old habits, die hard.
He looked back down at the terminal screen. People were coming
out of the Periphery to join his newly founded unit. He was flooded with
personnel applications. He needed a MechWarrior, another tanker, and a
DropShip crew. Dawg need eight more soldiers to get his squad back up
to full strength. Let Dawg deal with those.
Unless he wanted to grow larger. He shoved that thought aside for
now, he needed to make some C-bills first.
Vega. He sighed. In the end, it had all been for nothing. His
former, and first, command, the Third Lyran Expeditionary force,
basically a reinforced lance, had destroyed a full company of Second
Legion Mechs outside of New Egypt, taking possession of a critical repair
and supply facility.
In retribution, the Second Legion launched a surprise attack on the
Third Lyran Guard field headquarters, destroying it.
After they had decimated the field HQ, they swung back around to
the depot. His reinforced lance held off a heavy company of Second
Legion 'Mechs, led by their Commanding Officer. Who, incidentally, had
been piloting an 80-ton Hatamoto-Chi which, at the time, had never before
been seen.
The ensuing melee cost him his command. When all was said and
done, all of his 'Mechs were destroyed, including the two from the
surviving members of the field headquarters. He'd lost the hovertank, and
a third of the Jump Infantry as well. Dozer was killed, eight of Dawg's
men dead, and Hamilton was so badly injured that after a year of
reconstructive surgery, he was now practically a cyborg.
They'd all been shipped back to Skye afterwards. It wasn't long
after that, the tides turned on Vega and the Third Lyran, along with
Rhonda's Irregulars, we're forced off the planet. They'd held Vega, for
what, a matter of months?
 The whole affair was packaged up, all neat and tidy. Now it was
referred to as the War of 3039.
Still, he owed his current situation to that war. He'd struck a deal
with the Irregulars while he was there. He'd turn a blind eye to their
activities, give them the Star League prototype CLNT 1-2R they'd
captured and in exchange they'd transport the other salvage he'd omitted
from the post-battle report off planet for him to pick up later, although he
swore he only received a fraction of the parts and munitions they had
taken from when theyd originally captured the supply depot.
Ok, so it wasn't his proudest moment in uniform. But you can't
slam the door in the face of opportunity, so he'd taken it.
His subsequent and successful defense of the supply depot had
allowed the Irregular's DropShip, the Junk Yard, to land directly at the
StarPort in New Egypt with only the local garrison left to oppose
them. It had been an easy victory. The last such victory of the campaign
in retrospect.
Anyway, true to their word, once his tour of duty was over, there
were six salvaged Kurita BattleMechs waiting for him on Galatea. Except
they weren't salvage anymore. For whatever reason, the Irregulars had
seen fit to repair and repaint them all. Fully functional. A Shadowhawk,
Griffin, a replacement CLNT-2-3T Clint, Panther, Jenner, and the prize,
an 85-ton Battlemaster assault Mech with an extraordinary rare command
console.
It had been the Kurita company commander's 'Mech. Luckily,
when they had initially assaulted the supply depot, it was in the hangar
undergoing repairs. It never even made it onto the battlefield.
But that wasn't all. The Irregulars had also left him a battered
Leopard-class DropShip. All the weapons had been stripped off and it
smelled funny for some mysterious reason,but he wasnt about to
complain.
Since then, he'd sold both the Panther and the Jenner to establish a
war chest to help get his new unit started.
He'd already sunk a good two million C-bills into the Leopard just
to get it to fly again. Well worth it, though. A good unit can haul its own
butt around. And most importantly, now he could conduct combat drops
or land on a hostile planet, something a commercial hire would never do,
or in the very least, charge outrageous fees to do so.
All he needed now was the right contract.
---
"What do you mean, multiple beams?" Sigil was bent over
examining the innards of a seven ton heavy laser. "Man, this sucker is
big!"
An immaculately dressed, heavily tattooed oriental man stood
nearby.
He furrowed his eyebrows, long since tired of repeating the
explanation.
"Think of it as multiple lasers all packaged together. Each
individual beam fires for a brief moment, then a second beam briefly fires,
followed by a third. This pattern is repeated, creating a pulsing
effect. Hence the name, pulse laser. 306,250 C-bills. Non-negotiable."
Sigil studied the nearby technical readout intently, his smile
changing over to a frown as he continued to read.
"It's only good for 300m. It creates 25% more heat and only does
marginally more damage. I don't get it."
The man looked annoyed. "The rapid cycling of the laser makes it
track more like a typical machine gun. You could, for example, walk your
fire to the target as opposed to having it correctly targeted before
firing. This makes it a considerably more accurate weapon system,
especially when moving at high speeds or jumping."
Sigil's mouth formed an O as he nodded vigorously.
"Why didn't you just say so in the first place!"
The tattooed man didn't bother to dignify his comment.
Sigil's mind was racing a mile a minute. Improved accuracy was
exactly what he needed. His lance mates were forever teasing him about
his poor gunnery. Sadly, with good reason too. He flunked gunnery back
at Sanglamore, although at this point that seemed like forever ago.
Hmm. That laser generated almost as much heat as a particle
cannon. If he hit his Clint's Andoran jump jets and fired that thing, the
heat created would be enough to slow his 'Mech down instantly by a good
10 kph. Worse, if he added his two Martells, his targeting would be
affected as well. Do it twice and he'd be shutting down in the middle of
combat again.
He shook his head. "Nice weapon but my Clint can't take that kind
of heat. It'd shut me down."
The man in the suit actually smiled, revealing a pair of golden
teeth, and motioned for him to follow.
He stopped in front of what looked like an unusually large
BattleMech heat sink.
"This heat pump is made from a crystalline polymer instead of the
traditional graphite based materials you are undoubtedly familiar
with. The crystalline polymer is significantly lighter, albeit more bulky,
allowing the coolant to disburse its heat over a much larger surface
area. Notice the size of the radiator. This unit dissipates 200% more heat
when compared to a standard heat pump, allowing you to effectively
eliminate twice the heat for the same weight. It is our most popular
item. Ten for 250,000 C-bills. All of our prices are non-negotiable."
Sigil bent down to examine it. Definitely bulkier. They probably
wouldn't fit them into the legs, head, or even the engine
compartment. Still, the Clint had ample torso space, and in any case, most
of the heat sinks were integrated directly into the Pitban 240 fusion
engine.
He stood back up, looking at the Oriental man. "You need special
coolant to run these things?"
"No. The efficiency is derived primarily from the increased size of
the radiator. You can use standard coolant."
Sigil did the math. "A cool 556,250 C-bills for the pulse laser and
a set of these improved heat sinks." He whistled. "That's real money."
The man casually flicked his wrist, an electronic business card
appearing in it. He handed it to Sigil.
"This contains my contact information and a ComStar account
number for deposits if you wish to do business. Availability varies for
each component on a day-to-day basis. Good day."
He escorted him out of the warehouse.
---
"Do you have any idea how much it costs to keep this unit
running!?" Colonel Henley was getting his rage on.
"239,629 C-bills per month! Almost one million C-bills every four
months! Four million C-bills a year! And I've already sunk two million
C-bills into the Leopard just so we could have something to haul our sorry
asses around in!
"And, have we actually done anything
yet?! No. Nothing. Zilch. Zero. Unless you count cavorting with Mech
bunnies or shooting down PPCs at the local watering hole! And guess
what that pays, Leutnant? Big Fat Nothing. Which is exactly what you're
going to get.
"I can't believe you have the audacity to stroll in here, having done
absolutely nothing, and ask for half a million C-bills to give to some
organized criminal syndicate in hopes they'll slip you a little tech!"
The Colonel suddenly launched to his feet, his fists pounding on
his desk. Wow, it looked exactly like his old desk, Sigil thought
randomly. Is this some kind of bizarre flashback?
"No. The answer is no. No. No. No. Now get out before I come
right over this desk and bust your butt back to Private with my fist!"
 No sense fighting when he's in one of his moods.
"Yes, Haupt... uh... Colonel, sir! Immediately, sir! Yes, sir!"
Sigil fled.
Colonel Henley settled back down into his standard Lyran military
issue rolling swivel chair.
He should have known getting promoted to Colonel meant
logistics and paperwork. A lot of it.
Colonel. The rank seemed to come as part of a mercenary unit
when you founded it. Apparently it didn't matter how large, how small,
good, bad, ugly, whatever. You found a mercenary unit, automatic
Colonel.
Or as he was quickly coming to think of it, Chief Toilet Paper
Orderer. Wonderful. Colonel means you have to worry about what your
troops have to wipe their asses with. Beautiful.
The terminal on his desk flashed, emitting a brief monotone. He
looked down, thankful for the distraction.
---
The man who entered Colonel Henley's office wore the bars of a
MechWarrior in the Lyran Commonwealth Armed Forces. The black
triangle on his collar signified his rank as Hauptmann-Kommandant. The
name "Saxon" was embroidered on his khaki uniform.
"Good afternoon, Colonel Henley. I understand you have some
questions regarding Contract #8634HH7."
"Have a seat Hauptmann-Kommandant." Henley gestured to a
swivel chair, identical to his own, opposite his desk as he continued to
speak.
"You stipulate Liaison Command Rights in the
contract. Elaborate."
"Standard operating procedure, Colonel. Assuming you take an
LCAF JumpShip, I'll remain onboard while you make the drop onto
Carbonis. I'll monitor your progress on both the primary and secondary
objectives. As you know from the contract, the destruction of the IMB
warehouse fulfills your obligation but we are also offering a substantial
bonus if you can cripple or even destroy the main IMB production
lines. If you pursue the secondary, I will make the damage assessment
which determines the amount of that bonus."
The Lyran major leaned back in his swivel chair. "Don't worry,
Colonel, I'm not here to tell you how to do your job or to micromanage
your unit. Strictly an observer."
"What Intelligence can you provide regarding the IMB
installations?"
 "If you agree to the contract, we will provide satellite imagery of
the facility and Tharkads best guess as to the disposition and makeup of
the Ninth Marik Militia."
Colonel Henley leaned across his desk. "If I take this mission, I'll
have to conduct either a combat drop or land my DropShip in hostile
territory. 115,000 C-bills for transport won't even come close to covering
my risk and I doubt a commercial hire would even be willing. Would the
LCAF provide DropShip transport as well?"
"How about 230,000 C-bills in transportation
remuneration? Youre correct. This operation carries significantly more
risk than most contracts. It's certainly not garrison duty or pirate
hunting. I believe that is reflected in the base pay of 2.39 million and we
would prefer not to furnish a DropShip."
"Battle Loss Compensation of 20%. Does that include my
DropShip?"
The major paused a moment. "Normally, Colonel, it would
not. It's specifically limited to battlefield damage only. Given this is an
objective raid, I may be willing to write in an exception covering your
DropShip, specifically in the event it is damaged while conducting combat
operations."
Henley sat back in his chair. "Don't get me wrong, Hauptmann-
Kommandant, the terms you are offering are generous. Full Salvage rights
and the potential for a very lucrative bonus are all quite attractive."
"I'll tell you what, Colonel, if you take this contract, I'll cover your
DropShip under Battle Loss Compensation and up the Transport
Remuneration to 230,000 in exchange for modifying your Salvage Rights
from Full to Exchange."
Colonel Henley stood up, extending his hand across his
desk. "Thank you for your time, Hauptmann-Kommandant. I'll let you
know my decision in the next few days."
Hauptmann-Kommandant Matt Saxon stood up, shaking Henley's
hand with a firm tight grip. Looking directly into his eyes, he added, "I
hope you will. It was only the recommendation from Rhonda's Irregulars
on file with the Mercenary Review Board that even got you onto the
potential list of LCAF contractors. We wouldn't normally consider a
newly formed unit for this kind of mission."
---
"Man, I need some cash," Sigil muttered to himself as he paced
back and forth in front of his Clint. All it had on it was a gray primer
coat. Well, he had two options really.
First, he could try to hide the quarter million C-bills for the
newtech heat sinks in the repair and refit order the Colonel had asked him
to pull together. The entire order would likely come out to about a million
C-bills in armor, weapons, ammunition, myomer, structure, sensor kits,
actuators, and all the various pieces and parts needed to maintain and
repair the unit's four BattleMechs.
Doubtful it'd work, though. The Colonel had been obsessing about
money ever since he'd signed the lease on their new digs here on the
Mercenary Star. He'd nickel and dime his Purchase Requisition to
death. The man was so tight they were using single ply toilet paper.
Sigil chuckled to himself. When he'd remarked on that in the
lounge, the Colonel had looked him straight in the eye and said, "If your
ass is that sensitive, Leutnant, fold it in half."
Not that he'd admit it to anyone, but that's exactly what he'd been
doing ever since.
Anyway, the Colonel would catch him if he padded up the supply
order that much, if not immediately, then definitely later. Then, there'd be
hell to pay.
Ya, that might get the whole unit pissed at him. Better scratch that
idea.
That left the Games. Which he knew instinctively was a bad
idea. But the allure of the forbidden pulls as inexorably as a black hole.
And sucks you down the rabbit hole.
---
Sigil tried to look casual as he strolled into the barracks. All the
MechWarriors had their own private quarters but Dawg's jump infantry
shared a huge common space. He had said something about team
cohesion, predicting each others movements, reading minds, and some
other such nonsense. It looked to him like they were just sleeping and
showering together.
Dawg's brawny, heavily muscled form was cleaning his field
stripped Mauser 9000 assault rifle. An Imperator sub-machine gun,
Sternsacht heavy pistol, a holdout needler, wasn't that illegal?,
vibrodagger, and a collection of smaller knives were laid out in perfect
order on the table next to the cleaning supplies and rags. Some kind of
card game was going on at another table further away.
Just looking at Dawg intimidated Sigil. Even the smell of the
barracks was intimidating. Nothing but gun oil and sweat.
"Uh..., hey. Dawg. I mean, err, Captain Dawg." Dammit, he
was already turning red.
Sigil paused, took a deep breath and tried again. "Hello, sir."
Dawg kicked out a chair from under the table sending it screaming
towards him. "Sit down, and stop with all the formal crap, Sig. Whadda
ya want?"
Sigil managed to stop the chair an instant before it would have
smashed into his most sensitive area. He quickly sat down.
"How'd you know I want something?"
"I told ya before, Sig. I read minds. And yours is like an open
book. You should plays cards with the guys back there sometime. They'd
love you." Dawg flipped his thumb over his shoulder towards the group
of marines behind him laughing.
"No thanks, I uh..., don't play cards. I'm not the gambling
type. Besides, I'm flat broke. Actually, that's why I came to see you. I
need, uhh..., I mean I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me out?"
Dawg narrowed his eyes as he looked Sigil over, his hands
continuing to mechanically clean his assault rifle, having long ago
memorized the required movements.
It wasn't that unusual of a request. Everybody knew he was
independently wealthy. His father owned Bulldog Enterprise's TKG-150
Tokugawa production plant on Northwind. The Tokugawa was a wheeled
60-ton heavy tank sporting a SarLon MaxiCannon AC/10.
Sure, it wasn't the most inspiring design, but anyone who sold
military hardware these days was a rich, rich man. The Inner Sphere's
appetite for destruction was voracious and it chewed up and spit out men
and machines just as fast as they could be trained or manufactured.
Kitten knew he was loaded too, that was for sure. She was forever
dropping not so subtle hints about her dream of being an Aerospace
pilot. Normally he might be tempted, but unfortunately for her, that meant
she wouldn't be able to ferry his squad around in her Ripper VTOL
anymore. And he wasn't giving up his ride.
His hands began automatically reassembling his Mauser
9000. "How much you need, Sig, and for how long?"
Sigil's hands flew up defensively as he shook his head back and
forth. "Oh! No, no! I mean, I'm not here for a loan, Dawg. I just wanted
to know if you...," Sigil's eyes began darting about the barracks, "wanted
to, uh, go somewhere with me. I mean, you know, if you're not doing
anything later tonight." His wandering eyes returned to Dawg's face who
looked terribly amused.
Dawg actually stopped putting his assault rifle back together and
crossed his thick, corded arms over his chest. "Stop pussy footing around
the place, Sigil. If you want my help, you gotta speak english. What
kinda trouble are you in now or are you asking me out on a date?"
Sigil looked suspiciously around at all the other troopers in the
barracks, his face already flushed bright red.
Dawg frowned. "Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in
front of any of my men. We're all like one great hive mind. So spit it out
or I'll spit you right outta here for wasting my time."
Sigil took a steadying breath. "You know they run games here on
Galatea. Out in some of the far flung training fields surrounding the
Hiring Hall. One-on-one 'Mech versus 'Mech combat. You've probably
seen some of the holovids. I think they do individual man-on-man
personal combat too, Ultimate Fighting Championship kinda stuff and
who knows what else. I'm..., uh..., going out there tonight and I wandered
if you might come along with me. It's, you know, kind of a rough crowd
out there." He gave Dawg a pleading look.
Dawg's voice boomed out across the barracks. "Operation
Carnival. Primary Objective: Keep Sigil alive. Secondary: Watch
expensive customized military hardware get blown into scrap by desperate
down on their luck MechWarriors. Men and women fight each other to
the death for cold hard cash using martial styles from throughout the Inner
Sphere. Get drunk and lie with women of ill repute. Anyone interested?"
In perfect unison every marine in the barracks jumped
simultaneously to their feet, turning towards their Captain, saluted and
said, "Yes, Sir!" They remained standing at attention, Dawg hadn't even
turned around to look.
"Give me the when and the where Sigil. Looks like we're all
going. Can't let you Mechjocks hog up all the fun like you do the
glory. Happy now? I don't think anyone'll be stupid enough to mess with
you when you've got a platoon of anti-Mech jump infantry at your
back. They know we're as crazy as hell and just as fearless.
Somehow Sigil didn't look entirely pleased. He leaned over the
table saying to Dawg in a low voice, "Uh..., I'm one of the desperate down
on their luck MechWarriors."

Chapter 2
Galatea
Lyran Commonwealth
3041

Sigil was sweating in the still cool cockpit of his 40-ton

Clint. Man, she piloted like a dream. Fast and nimble, she felt like an
extension of himself, like she could read his mind. A real quality
machine. They just didn't make them like this anymore. Actually, the
truth was they couldn't even if they wanted to. The design and assembly
lines had been lost hundreds of year ago. She was an antique, one of
countless orphans created by the Succession Wars.
But the electronics were unbelievable. Originally he'd thought the
Tek TruTrak was the best targeting and tracking system ever made, but
not anymore. The Sloane 220 Lockover had a built in battle computer. It
held two primary targets, 6 secondary, featured target ID, damage ID, a
lock-on indicator, and a full 360 degree scanning arc with infrared,
electromagnetic and motion detection, but the best part was the lock-on
range of almost 1.5 kilometers. Aerospace targeting, fire support, and
volley support were all built-in. And it had twelve expansion slots to
boot. Was there anything it couldnt do?
He stared out over the arena field. At some point it must have
been a huge manufacturing facility. Now the ceiling was gone and large
stretches of the ferrocrete floor has been reduced to treacherous looking
rubble. A series of fifteen and thirty foot tall blast shields were scattered
about irregularly providing the hope of partial and even full cover for the
combatants that fought here. Laser scars, missile craters and the tell-tale
pock marks of ballistic fire covered everything.
The announcers voice broke through the low thrum of his cockpit.
"Ladies and Gentleman! Do we have a treat for you tonight! The
one and only Scotty McDaniel takes on a decorated veteran from the War
of 3039! And it gets even better! You have no idea how lucky you are to
be here tonight! McDaniel will be piloting his famous 45-ton murderous
Hatchetman, the one we all know and love as Lizze Borden!"
Sigil could actually hear the thunderous roar of the crowd from
high up in the bleachers perched all along the edges where the roof had
originally met the walls. There were also a number of hardened private
skyboxes set at intervals around the arena, their darkened glassteel facades
leering down on the killing grounds below.
At the far end of the arena, about 900m away, a huge two-story
blast door opened and his opponent stepped onto the floor. He raised his
axe, slowly turning 270 degrees as he saluted the crowd. A jagged bloody
red line had been painted all along the edge of his hatchet and his 'Mech
sported a mottled gray, white and black camouflage which blended in well
with the stark industrial setting.
His Sloane painted an instant lock on him. The damage silhouette,
wire diagram and schematics popped up instantly, followed by detailed
weapons information. Defiance Killer Class 10 autocannon, max range
450m, twenty round magazine. Two Defiance B3M medium lasers, max
range 270m. Armor factor 104, max speed 64.8 kph, jump capacity 120m.
The Sloane overlaid color coded firing arcs showing the threat
range of the various weapon systems as well as the maximum movement
projections for the Hatchetman in all directions. Next, it overlaid the same
information regarding his own 'Mech and then put them all on one of the
display areas of his H.U.D.
You gotta love battle computers.
His advantage was obvious. Range. His Armstrong AC/5 had a
good 90m on the Defiance autocannon. It showed up on his H.U.D. like a
big donu, the sweet spot from which he could hit the Hatchetman yet
remain outside of its threat range. Yep, stick to that and this would be the
easiest money he ever made.
The announcers voice returned as the crowd settled back down.
"His opposition, a graduate of the prestigious Sanglamore
Academy on Skye, a former Leutnant in the renowned Third Lyran Guard,
he saw action on Vega during the War of 3039 and piloting what could be
the rarest 'Mech in the Inner Sphere today! Ladies and Gentleman, lets
hear it for Sigil and his 40-ton Star League era CLNT-2-3T Clint!"
There was another muted roar from the crowd. Sigil raised his
articulated left hand pointing a single finger across the field directly at the
bloody Hatchetman. He paused a moment for effect, then brought his
'Mechs hand back, drawing his finger across its throat. Hed seen that
once on one of the holovids out of Solaris VII and thought it was cool.
The crowd went wild crazy. He could literally feel their screams vibrating
his glassteel canopy and chuckled to himself. Everybody enjoys a good
show. He could get into this.
The announcers voice broke in one last time.
"Tonights fight is for a purse of 500,000 C-bills. Victor gets
exchange rights and the last 'Mech standing wins. Ladies and Gentleman,
I can guarantee you right now you will never see another fight like the one
you are going to witness tonight! To our contestants, good luck and thank
you in advance!"
The crowd's roar grew louder as they continued to scream
unabatedly. He could see tiny little figures way up in the bleachers
standing up.
He zoomed in.
They were jumping, stomping and acting like total madmen. High-
fiving each other and it looked like a number of them were copying his
throat slitting gesture.
The announcers voice broke in yet again.
"Blakes Blood, people! The Clint pilot is calling for a
DeathMatch! Unbelievable! This changes everything! Didn't I tell you
this would be a memorable fight!? Well, believe me folks, it already is and
it hasn't even started yet! There will be short delay while we confirm. As
a reminder for those of you who've never been lucky enough to witness a
DeathMatch, we will also be taking additional wagers on method and time
and of death. Standby."
Sigil was still blinking rapidly when his private comlink crackled
to life. "Mechwarrior Sigil, Scotty McDaniel confirms
DeathMatch. Salvage rights are now full. In addition, we need to confirm
you've disabled the auto-ejection system on your 'Mech."
He stared for a long moment at the speaker as if he'd never seen it
before.
"Mechwarrior Sigil, confirm auto-ejection is disabled."
All he managed to get out was a strangled, "What!?"
"Mechwarrior Sigil, DeathMatch confirmed! Please disable auto-
ejection."
"DeathMatch!? Huh!? What the hell is going on!?"
A different voice came over the comlink. An older one, carrying a
thick Northwind accent.
"Mechwarrior Sigil. You gave the hand signal for a
DeathMatch. We have it recorded. Scotty McDaniel has confirmed
DeathMatch. Disable your auto-ejection or you will immediately forfeit
the match and since it's a DeathMatch your life as well. It's all in the
contract, not that you have time to read it right now, laddy."
Forfeit the match!? Forfeit his life!? He looked across the arena
field at the Hatchetman, his eyes growing bigger by the second. Lizzie
was drawing her hatchet across her neck, followed by a series of brutal
chopping motions, then she pointed right back at him.
Understanding came swiftly. Followed by a moment of abject
terror.
Sigil tried to bring his breathing back under control before he
passed out cold in his cockpit. Talking to himself, he said, This is no
different than live combat, Sig, you've faced certain death before! Calm
down! Live Combat. This is no different than live combat. No
different. No different!
He steadied his breathing.
"Sending visual confirmation now." He transmitted the live
cockpit camera feed back to the arenas central operations center.
He flipped the auto-ejection circuit to Off. An immediate
auditory confirmation followed as a full-bodied female voice came out
over the cockpit speakers.
 "Please confirm Auto-Ejection disable. This is not a recommended
course of action at this time."
He looked around his cockpit briefly disoriented. "Uh...,
confirm?"
The voice returned, "Auto-Ejection is now disabled." A new
indicator appeared on his H.U.D. It looked like a little head with a line
bisecting it. It pulsed red.
"MechWarrior Sigil, we have confirmed. Good Luck. The match
will begin in three minutes."
---
Dawg had rented one of the glassteel private skyboxes for him and
his platoon. It was a rare opportunity to give his men a little
R&R. They'd already gotten Sigil checked in, through what passed for
security and into his BattleMech. He couldn't do much more than that
until the match was over. For better or worse.
The skybox was plush. Full bar, a menu, a cute little server, a view
of the entire complex and a number of huge video displays of the
arena. One multi-display was a bank of every camera in the field. You
could press any one of them and get a full resolution version. Fancy.
Of course, there was also the produced feed. Overlaid with each
'Mech's telemetry data, play-by-play voice over and a color guy spouting
all kinds of random 'Mech trivia.
The Hatchetman replays were what caught his attention,
however. It was a montage of Lizzie Borden shearing off Mech arms,
legs and torsos. Man, this guy must have been at it for a while given the
number of amputations he witnessed in just few short moments.
Then they started showing slow-motion replays of Lizzie
decapitating a Hermes II, followed by a Vindicator and then a Phoenix
Hawk. Oh man, what had that boy gotten himself into? This guy looked
like a real pro.
Dawg shook his head. Well, the boy had stones, that's for
sure. He charged that Second Legion assault lance back on Vega like
nobodys business and managed to take down both a Stalker and an
Awesome before his 'Hopper was blown to smithereens.
Yea, but he'd had Hamilton's Warhammer backing him up
then. This time he was flying solo.
Suddenly, he could hear the yells of the crowd right through the
insulated walls of the skybox as they all went nuts. He looked
around. The word DeathMatch was stamped in red block letters across
the main feed. It slowly transformed into blood and oozed down the
screen, then reappeared in the bottom left corner.
 Oh shit.
---
Sigil's eyes were glued to the lights. After an eternity, they
started. Red. Red. Red.
He had superior mobility but he needed as much room as possible
to really make it count.
Yellow. Yellow.
And he had range. He had 90m on that Defiance Killer.
Green.
He shoved the throttle to the max, the Clint accelerating so quickly
he was shoved back into command couch. From zero to almost a hundred
kph in just seconds.
Nothing fancy, just a charge straight ahead.
Lizzie topped out at about 65 kph. She started straight ahead as
well, then swerved behind one of the shorter blast shields.
Ya, baby! 500 meters! He had her in his sweet spot already. The
reticle seemed to be tracking the Hatchetman of its own accord. He
thumbed the Armstrong sending a stream of slugs slamming into the blast
shield, bullets ricocheting and send sparks flying everywhere.
Suddenly, the left side of the Clint jerked backwards, spinning him
to the right as he fought to keep his feet.
What the hell?
The battle computer came alive instantly, appraising him of the
situation.
"Left arm breeched. No critical damage. Analyzing ballistics
data. Recommend immediate evasive action."
He slammed on the Andoran jump jets, sending the Clint arcing
through the sky, jets of flame streaming from its feet and torso.
Cover. I need full cover!
He twisted mid-air, aiming his Armstrong at the Hatchetman as it
sprinted out from behind its partial cover. With surprising ease, he
dropped the reticle over it. It felt like it just wanted to be there. He fired,
nailing it mid-stride in the center of its chest, leaving him more than a
little surprised to have landed such a difficult shot.
He landed behind a two-story tall blast shield just in time. He
could hear it ringing as Lizzies Imperator tore into the reinforced
ferrocrete shielding him.
"Ballistics analysis complete. Probable weapon type: LB-X
advanced class 10 autocannon. Maximum range 540m. Cluster munitions
capable. Rebuilding firing arcs and movement projections. Target is
unknown HCT variant. Recommend activation of rapid fire mode and
active scan of target."
Sigils entire battle plan just disintegrated. His range advantage
had just vanished along with his hopes for a relatively easy victory.
What was left? Rapid Fire mode? I have no idea, but it
sure as hell sounds good, he thought to himself as desperation began to set
in.
"Engage Rapid Fire Mode!" Sigil sprinted out from behind his
own barrier, arcing out wide and circling to the left of the HCT.
They were both waiting for each other.
"Rapid Fire Mode engaged."
He squeezed and just kept holding down the Armstrong's trigger as
Lizzie leveled her Imperator right back at him.
The Armstrong spewed forth a river of slugs, stitching a long line
starting at Lizzie's left arm and extending all the way across her chest.
The Clint's voice came to life again. "Jam Probability 12%...
13%... 14%... 15%"
Just as he finally let up on the trigger, the Clint bucked violently,
stumbling as Lizzie's Imperator tore away at its right leg.
"Right leg breeched. No critical damage."
Dammit, he'd stumbled into the rubble! His 'Mech skidded and
careened as he wildly wrenched the controls trying to counteract the
momentum and stabilize his 40-ton machine.
Range 380m. He could feel Lizzie closing in on him as he brought
his Clint back under control, skidding to a stop but suddenly finding
himself dangerously exposed.
He swung around to the right. She enough Lizzie was smelling
blood. She was coming straight at him in a dead run.
He saw the muzzle flash an instant before his entire left arm was
completely disintegrated by the state-of-the-art autocannon.
"Left arm destroyed. Left torso breeched. No critical damage."
He grit his teeth and retaliated as best he could, the Armstrong
once again hitting the left arm and right torso. Damn it's tough hide! He
still hadn't breeched it!
"Jam Probability 13%... 14%... 15%... 16%"
Reluctantly, he let go. Without the Armstrong it'd be game over.
Warning. Without immediate evasive action you will be within
the targets full weapons range in 12 seconds.
He fired the Andoran's again. I gotta move!
Sigil sent the Clint in a graceful arc backwards and directly away
from the axe-wielding maniac.
Without slowing, Lizzie continued running straight through the
rubble and right at him, brandishing her deadly axe as she sought to close
the range as quickly as possible now.
Again they exchanged autocannon fire. Again the Armstrong
nailed the left arm, Sigil walking the fire across its center mass as the
Armstrong continued eating its way through its limited ammunition at a
prodigious rate.
"Target left arm breeched. Jam Probability
14%...15%...16%...17%"
Again he forced himself to release the trigger. He was practically
up against the arena wall now, limiting his ability to maneuver.
His Clint rocked backwards as the Imperator's depleted uranium
slugs viciously punched through his right torso like it was paper.
"Right torso breeched. Ammunition explosion
likely. Recommend immediate withdrawal."
The Last Jumpship was coming for him!
He screamed in fury unwilling to accept defeat and a meaningless
death. Unwilling to accept that this is how his life was to end, in some
second-class arena on the Mercenary Star. No! Dump Ammo! Engage
Volley Fire!"
They both rocketed into the sky at the same moment, blazing away
with everything they had as they flew towards an almost certain mid-air
collision, the Clint raining autocannon shells out of the rear as it dumped
its remaining ammunition.
The first of Lizzie's dual Defiance B3M lasers slagged armor from
the Clint's ches, but the second cored deep into the already exposed
structure of the left torso.
Sigil responded with single pull of the trigger, unleashing his own
alpha-strike. The two Martell mediums combined to drill through Lizzies
left torso and into the structure underneath as the Armstrong spit out its
final rounds against her left leg.
Then the Hatchetmans advanced Imperator autocannon vomited
forth a devastating point blank shotgun-like blast, covering the entire Clint
in a series of small explosions.
The smoke from the cluster munitions obscured what happened
next as both Mechs passed mid-air within just a few scant meters of each
other. The entire audience collectively held its breath.
Both 'Mechs came spinning out of control from the cloud of thick
gun smoke, but there was no mistaking Lizzie's hatchet buried deep in the
Clint's chest. But the Hatchetman had suffered just as badly. Her left leg
had been blown clean off and her left torso savaged so badly her left arm
had effectively been amputated.
 Plummeting uncontrollably to the ground, both 'Mechs slammed
hard into the unyielding ferrocrete floor, the sound of crushing armor
plates, twisting steel, and collapsing structure echoed thunderously
throughout the arena. Their impact sent up another cloud of obscuring
dust and debris.
Klaxons were ringing in Sigil's head and the bitch just wouldn't
shut up!
"Medium Laser destroyed. Jump Jet destroyed. Jump Capacity
150 meters. Left torso breeched. No critical damage. Left torso
breeched. No critical damage. Left torso destroyed. Center torso
breeched. Gyro Damaged. Center torso breeched. Gyro
Destroyed. BattleMech incapable of movement."
As his Mech brutally bounced once, then twice, everything
became blurry and indistinct from the massive concussive force and yet
the woman just kept on talking.
"Right arm breeched. Autocannon damaged. Autocannon
disabled. Autocannon out of ammunition. Right torso breeched. No
critical damage. Overall System Status: Critical. Weapon status 33%.
Shutting down."
He tried to make his eyes focus on something, anything, but
everything was just smoke and strange, mesmerizing shapes.
He hit the stimpak strapped to his leg. Once. Twice. Then a third
time. His vision cleared as he was flooded with synthetic adrenaline,
neurotransmitters, and powerful stimulants.
DeathMatch. The Sternsacht heavy pistol Dawg gave him!
He pulled the canopy release, clambering out of the cockpit and
staggering onto the smoking and dust filled battlefield. The acrid smells
of burnt myomer, scorched metal and burnt out electronics assaulted his
nostrils.
He could just make out the ruined form of the Hatchetman some
50 meters away. The entire left side of it was destroyed, fluids pouring
like blood from Lizzie's mangled body.
He lumbered towards it, his body so hopped up on drugs that he
had no idea if he was even injured, and if so, how badly. All he knew was
that the hand wrapped around the grip of the Sternsacht still seemed to be
responding.
He advanced on the head of the prone Hatchetman, spotting its
splintered canopy.
Lizzie's remaining arm and leg twitched as if she was trying to
return to the world of the living.
Then Sigil emptied the Sternsacht's clip straight through the
splintered cockpit canopy and she went perfectly still.
Pandemonium ensued as he felt the last vestiges of consciousness
slipping rapidly away.
---
Dawg didnt waste a second. He sprinted out of the skybox and
onto the narrow balcony that overlooked the arena floor. With a flick of
his wrist, a collapsible grappling hook snapped open, locking into
position. He hooked it over the balcony railing a second before he simply
leapt off and into the empty air.
He free fell about 100 feet, bracing himself as he activated the self-
breaking belaying unit. His body jerked as he was brought to a bone
jarring halt just feet from the arena floor. He hit the release, racing off
towards the wreckage. He could already hear the first of his squad hitting
the ferrocrete behind him. Good men, all of them, and fast.
He instinctively reached for his Sternsacht. Damn, hed given it to
Sigil just outside the Arena. Instead, his holdout needler appeared in one
hand, vibrodagger in the other, as he closed in on the smoking wreckage.
The Clints canopy had been popped open. A quick glance told
him all he needed to know. The cockpit was splashed with blood but there
was no body. His men caught up with him as he spotted the trail of blood
leading towards the wrecked Hatchetman and raced off into the smoke
once again.
As he approached the ruined 45-ton war machine, he saw a bloody
smear running down the head of the Hatchetman, a gaping hole in its
canopy and the crumpled form of Sigil lying still in a pool of blood on the
arena floor.
He yelled out. Inflatable tourniquet, NOW! Emergency
IV! Defib! His hand circled over his head then pointed at
Lizzie. Secure the Hatchetman! Goddammit! Wheres Kitten when you
need her!
Three of his men advanced on the cockpit, a Mydron auto-pistol, a
Nakajama and a Sunbeam laser pistol already trained on the canopy and
braced against their other arms.
His three other platoon members started producing emergency
medical supplies from various concealed pockets on their persons.
Just like his Clint, Sigils left arm was in shattered ruins. Hed
already lost so much blood it was only weakly trickling out at this
point. He was deep in shock. Pale, sweating, and non-responsive.
A tourniquet appeared in his hand, he quickly slipped it over the
arm, pulling the auto-inflation tab. Next he grabbed the emergency
plasma I.V and stabbed the needle directly into the inside of Sigils upper
thigh.
The portable defibrillator came next. Pushing the remains of
Sigils cooling vest aside, he slapped the paddles onto his chest.
Clear! Sigils body jerked up off the ferrocrete. Clear! He hit
him again the paddles.
The Hatchetman is secure, Captain! one of his men shouted back
to him.
Dammit, Sigil! Come on! I need the EpiPin! Now!
One his men magically produced one, shoving it into his
hand. Hed had them all come prepared for anything. You never knew
what kind of situation you might find yourself suddenly thrust into,
although, trauma medic wasnt his strong suit, that was Kittens.
Captain, incoming!
He jabbed the thick long needle of the epinephrine auto-injector
into Sigils chest with a meaty thunk.
Establish a secure perimeter! Dont let anyone through who isnt
medical staff!
Five of his men fanned out, encircling Dawg as he furiously
worked on Sigil, their weapons all pointing outward as a vehicle came
speeding towards them.
It was an old six-wheeled light APC. It made a hard left turn and
then screeched to a halt. His men dropped into defensive crouches, all of
them training their weapons on the hatch.
The hatch clanged open and a huge burly man clad in a plaid kilt
emerged.
That was one of the best goddamn fights Ive ever seen! he
bellowed out in his thick Northwind accent.
Just one question left. I know ole Scottys dead. Hows the
boy? He still alive?
A small security detail in full flak suits with assault rifles emerged
from the APC behind him.
He held his hands up. I dont want any misunderstandings. Im
not here to cause trouble. I just need to verify the outcome of the
DeathMatch. I got a couple medtechs with me in the APC.
He then turned back to his own security detail. Lower those
damn rifles before some accidentally gets shot and stand down!
A pair of medtechs carrying trauma kits came piling out of the
APC next. The burly man motioned towards one of them then pointed at
the Hatchetmans head.
Verify the exact time and cause of death for poor ol Scotty over
there. The medtech began clambering up the head of scrapped
Hatchetman.
He motioned for the other medtech to follow him. Come with
me. Lets take a look at the boy.
Dawgs men shifted positions, clustering closer together and
blocking the big mans path. One of them shouted, Captain! Unknown
approaching with possible medical.
Dawg glanced up, hed been reduced to performing mouth-to-
mouth on the still unresponsive Sigil.
He growled, Let em though and keep your weapons trained on
that detail! Ollie, Wendell, escort the two unknowns through and keep a
sharp eye on em.
The two were allowed to pass through Dawgs perimeter and
approach the prone Sigil.
The burly man whistled. Damn. Looks like a flatliner to
me. Take a look, Les.
The medtech kneeled next to Sigil. Flipping his trauma kit open
and grabbing his portable medscanner, he ran a quick full body scan and
paused, studying the readout.
Hes not dead yet, Angus. Brachial artery severed. Class IV
hemorrhaging. Grade 3 closed head injury. Transverse fractures of the
left radius and ulna. Multiple compound fractures of the left humerus.
Second degree burns. Numerous puncture, laceration and abrasion
wounds. He doesnt stand a chance in hell if we dont get an immediate
medevac. He should be dead already!
Dawg turned to Angus. Call it in, NOW!
Whoa dont get all excited now. I dont even know who you
are. He held his hands wide open and out to his sides.
Dont bullshit me unless you want a new face! Dawgs holdout
needler flashed into his hand and things began to get tense.
Me and my men were with Sigil when he registered. Hes a
member of our unit. Call it in now or theres gonna be another dead body
here for pickup. His dark serious eyes bored in the Northwind native.
Call in it Les. Medevac STAT. And I want Johnsons crew, not
those scrubs outta Helena. This guys a freakin hero! You have any idea
how much money he just made me!?
Dawg turned to his second-in-command, Ollie. Get Kitten on the
link. I want her up and in the air following that medevac chopper. And
make sure she takes Third platoon with her.
He turned to Angus, motioning at Sigil.
I go where he goes. Period. The rest of you will accompany
Angus and arrange transport for both the Clint and Hatchetman back to
our hangar. Verify the half-million gets deposited into the units account
as well.

Chapter 3
Galatea
Lyran Commonwealth
3041

It was past midnight and parts of the Colonel's Battlemaster were

scattered all over the floor of the 69th Virginia Expeditionary Force's
'Mech hangar on Galatea.
There was huge gaping hole where the Vox 340 fusion engine
should have been.
As Leutnant Weddle watched, it looked for all the world like Sigil
was climbing into the fusion reactor sitting on the ferrocrete floor.
"Hey, Sig, do I even want to know what youre doing?" he called
out. "You sure that's safe?"
Clang! Sigil's head jerked up hitting the top of the cowling
surrounding the reactor.
"Owww!" He grabbed the top of his head and withdrew, scowling
at Weddle.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm replacing the regenerative
cooling system on the Vox with the new Freezers the Colonel
bought." Sigil frowned.
"I gotta replace thirteen radiators in there." He gestured to the
fusion engine. "And then I gotta put two in the left torso and one in the
right. Colonel's orders."
Weddle chuckled. "You know after you're done with his
Battlemaster, you gotta do the same thing to my Griffin."
"Yea, yea, yea. Is that what you came down here for? To ride my
ass?"
"Nah, just couldn't sleep with all the racket you're
making." Weddle grinned.
"How 'bout instead of flappin' your jaw, you give me a hand
instead? You can start by movin' that pallet of Freezers over here and
unpacking 'em so I can pull the radiators off."
He pointed across the 'Mech bay to a large stack of pallets.
Weddle hopped in the forklift, fired it up and started rolling as
Sigil went back to pulling out the old radiators in the Vox.
 Sigil kept glancing across the 'Mech hangar to where the HCT-3F
stood powered down in its bay. The Colonel had authorized its repair
while he was recovering from his adventure in the arena. Looking at her
still made him shiver. Lizzie Borden. He involuntarily reached down
checking to make sure the Sternsacht heavy pistol Dawg had given was
still strapped to his thigh and then touched his cybernetic left arm. It was
a Type V myomer replacement. Top of the line. Better than the original,
really, if you thought about it. Now, he and Hamilton both had cybernetic
parts.
Sigil sighed loudly. Next to it was his Clint. It was being held up
by a series of chains and rigging. It hurt just to look at her. Her left side
was ripped away. Her chest all staved in where the hatchet had destroyed
her gyro. Pock marked from head to toe from the cluster munitions, there
was barely a ton of armor left on her in total.
He had to get her back online somehow. The problem was Clint
parts were basically non-existent. Their scarcity was legendary. Everyone
knew it. The Colonel's words came floating back to him unbidden from
back on Vega, when they'd first salvaged the Clint.
"We both know the Clint wasnt built well from the start and that
finding spare parts is almost impossible. I cant have you in the lance
riding some welded together tin can we cant field repair."
He was startled by a loud bang as Weddle set down a pallet full of
Freezers nearby.
"Man, Weddle shook his head, What is it with you and that
Clint? Now you're just standing there and staring at it like you're in a
trance or something." Weddle slid off the forklift and stood next to him.
You sure your brain didnt get scrambled in that arena fight?
"The Hatchetman's a way better 'Mech than that antique
Clint. And that dude did some nice mods to it. Its got a good 50% more
armor, the autocannon is twice as powerful and you've got a
hatchet. Frankly, I don't know how you managed to beat him. I think it
was luck, plain and simple," he chuckled.
Sigil turned to face him. "Nah, you wouldn't understand. Me and
her, it's like we're meant for each other. Kinda like love at first sight. She
just felt so right. Like we were meant to be together. I dunno. Sounds
crazy. I can't really explain it."
Weddle winced in pain, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
"Actually, Sigil, I know exactly what you're talking about. I never
said anything but I was real torn up when I lost my T-bolt on Vega. I've
been piloting Thunderbolts since I was old enough to walk down to the
sims. I tell myself it's because it's such a good design. But the truth is,
when I'm strapped into a TDR it somehow makes me feel complete. Like
the 'Mech can anticipate me, like it's a part of me. Like it knows me."
Weddle shrugged. "It's late. There, I dropped off a pallet for you.
Happy now?"
He started to walk off, then paused, turning back. "That Clint runs
off a Pitban 240. I'm pretty sure a few others do too."
---
Sigil started unpacking another Freezer. The Colonel had him
working eighty hour weeks. He barely had time to eat and sleep. But that
was the idea wasn't it? He wouldn't have time to get into any more
trouble. Of course, the Colonel said it was because they'd be deploying to
Carbonis next month. Their first mission as the 69th Virginia
Expeditionary Force. A raid on IMB systems.
His mind wandered. Why had Weddle mentioned the Pitban? He
thought about it for a minute. The Spider, Vulcan, Rifleman, and
surprisingly, the Awesome as well. They all used the Pitban 240. And all
of those Mechs were still being manufactured.
Then it clicked. Gyros were based directly on the engine
rating. In theory, any gyro from a 'Mech that used a Pitban 240 ought to
work in his Clint.
His eyes opened wide. Blake's Blood! Maybe he could get her
back up and running! He didn't doubt for a second that he was a good
enough engineer and tinkerer to make whatever modifications might be
necessary to make it work.
He wrinkled his face in dismay. Ya, but a gyro would still cost a
cool million C-bills. He'd already tried once to come up with big money
fast and that hadn't exactly worked out as planned.
His eyes were drawn once again to Lizze Borden.
---
Sigil entered the Colonel's office and plopped down on the swivel
chair facing his desk. The Colonel had an open door policy.
Colonel Henley looked up from his terminal. "Leutnant Sigil. Is
my Battlemaster finished?"
"No, sir. I mean, not yet, sir. I mean it's almost done, sir."
"Then why are you here, Leutnant?" Henley frowned.
"Well, sir, I had an idea..."
The Colonel cut him off immediately.
Leutnant, your ideas are as dangerous as a Tomodzuru Type
20. If it has anything to do with that Clint, I dont want to hear it.
The Colonel leaned over his desk. I know you want to pilot the
Clint and we both know what kind of shape its in. And, his eyes bored
into Sigil, we both know how it got that way.
Colonel Henley leaned back again. You are the most arrogant,
selfish, irresponsible and insubordinate solider in this entire outfit. Youre
already on disciplinary probation for your latest stunt. You either need to
learn how to operate as a member of a team or youre finished here. Is
that understood, Leutnant?
Sigil looked wounded. Yes, sir. Understood, sir.
Colonel Henley sighed loudly. The unit paid for the Type V
myomer replacement of your left arm. 400,000 C-bills,
Leutnant. Kerensky knows I didnt want to but I made a promise to your
brother. Which, with some frequency, I am beginning to
regret. Nonetheless, Im going to give you a ray of hope, Lt. Sigil. You
pilot the Hatchetman you salvaged on our upcoming mission and if it goes
well, Ill authorize the repair of your Clint.
Sigils eyes brightened as he shot up out of the swivel chair.
Thank you, sir! I promise
The Colonel cut him off, raising his hand. Get back down to the
Mech bay and finish my Battlemaster, Lt. Dismissed.
Sigil saluted, executed a sloppy about face and left for the Mech
bay.
---
Having finished installing the new radiators in the regenerative
cooling system of the Vox 340, Sigil was preparing to lift the upgraded
reactor and place it back into the chest of the Colonels 85-ton
Battlemaster.
Hey, Sig, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy! It was
Hamilton. Sigil usually served as Hamiltons second.
Word on the street is that youre going to be piloting the
Hatchetman when we drop on Carbonis.
Ya, its true. The Colonel gave me my marching orders
yesterday, Sigil grinned sheepishly. You know I was hoping to get my
Clint back up and running but thats not going to happen, not now
anyway. But at least the Colonel said if the Carbonis drop goes well, hell
authorize the repair, so thats something. Anyway, how come you didnt
want to put any Freezers on your Shadow Hawk?
Hamilton shrugged. Why mess with perfection? I tweaked the
weapons load out, though. Pulled off the Armstrong J11 autocannon and
both Holly missile racks. I replaced them with a Hovertec SRM Quad, a
second Martell medium, and a Sunglow Type 2 heavy laser. And I still
had enough space left over to put in three more heat sinks and another ton
of armor. Oh, and she has a full 150m jump capability now too.
 He grinned. Not bad, eh? I cant wait to take it out into the field
and give those Marik boys a few nasty surprises.
Sigil nodded distractedly. Definitely an improvement, for
sure. But I was wondering how come the Colonel bought those
Freezers? I mean, when I asked him before he practically threw me out of
his office. When I get back from the hospital, suddenly there is a stack of
pallets loaded with em and Im working eighty hour weeks stuffing them
into his Battlemaster and Weddles Griffin. What gives?
Hamilton looked surprised. You mean you dont know?
Know what?
Hamilton glanced around checking to see that the Mech bay was
empty, and walked closer. Well, when you told Dawg what you were up
to, he cashed out his share of the unit. Plus, hes independently wealthy to
boot. So he put down a huge pile of C-bills on your arena fight. And it
paid off in spades. You know they were giving four-to-one odds against
you. Youre one lucky sonuvabitch.
Hamilton gave him a meaningful look and continued on. Big
money, Sig. Big. Anyway, after the fight, I heard the Colonel talking to
Weddle. He was asking if he knew anything about your black market
contacts. I reckon he did, cause it wasnt long after that the pallets came
rolling in.
Sigils mouth made his trademark O shape. What!? I had no
idea! Why doesnt anyone tell me anything around here! Im always the
last to know! Even when Im involved! How does that work!?
All you gotta do is ask the right person, Sig. Hamilton winked at
him and headed off to check his Shadow Hawk over.
---
Sigil was rebuilding the regenerative cooling system on Weddles
Griffin when he heard a strange clicking noise echoing through the
cavernous Mech bay. He peered over his shoulder in the direction of the
sound.
He blinked, blinked again and then rubbed his eyes. A tall woman
clad in a tight, rust colored one-piece leather bodysuit was purposefully
striding through the bay. Her honey blonde hair was pulled back into a
single long braided ponytail that swayed mesmerizingly back and forth,
reaching a good three-quarters down her back. Behind her was a short
fireplug of a man with an outrageous red beard and an even more
outrageous scowl on his face.
Her leather pumps were making a staccato click on the ferrocrete
floor of the Mech bay as she drew closer. Her skin was dusky and her
brown eyes had a slight almond shape about them. And, he noticed, she
carried a stunstick strapped to the outside of her thigh.
Hey, tech, you can pick your jaw up off the floor now. Her
voice carried a slight accent. Kuritan, Capellan maybe?
Sigil continued to stare at her, speechless.
Why dont you wipe the drool off your face now and be a good
little boy and tell me where I can find Colonel Jason Henley.
The red headed dwarf turned to her, saying, Aint no use,
Varruka. I think this ones deaf, dumb and mute. That, or maybe they just
doesnt let him out much. I dont know why you bothered coming over
here in the first place, he added grumpily.
He strode straight up to Sigil, stopping a scant foot away.
Whats the matter, boy? Aint never seen a real life woman
before?
Sigil stammered and stuttered, No, I mean yes. I mean, of course
I have! his cheeks flushed red. Suddenly aware that he was staring at her,
he shifted his glance down to the dwarf who was now basically right in his
chest.
Uh. Ya. I mean, uh, youre looking for the Colonel? Ya, I know
where he is.
Great. The dwarf crossed his thick muscled arms over his chest.
He waited a moment, then bellowed, THEN TAKE US TO HIM,
YOU IDIOT!
The sudden onslaught of his voice caused Sigil to cringe and he
raised his hands protectively.
The leather-clad woman turned to her redheaded friend. Stop it
Spanner! Cant you see your scaring him? Light, mocking laughter
chimed out of her as her eyes dropped to the oversized pistol strapped to
his leg. Is that a decoration or do they let you actually fire that thing?
Hearing a pair of unfamiliar voices, First Leutnant Jeff Hamilton
stuck his head out from behind the Shadow Hawk he was working
on. Spotting the two newcomers, he quickly strode over, sticking his hand
out towards the blonde haired woman.
Im First Leutnant Jeff Hamilton, 69th Virginia Expeditionary
Force. How may I help you?
The woman took his hand, gripping it briefly. Im Captain
Varruka Salt. This is my XO and Chief Engineer, Spanner Harrow. We
have an appointment with Colonel Jason Henley.
Hamilton nodded, If you will follow me, Ill escort you to his
office.
The staccato clicks resumed as the three figures turned, heading
towards the Colonels office and leaving Sigil alone once more.
 Tech? She called me a tech, he grumbled to himself as he turned
back to his work on the Griffins CoreTek 275 power plant.
---
Colonel Jason Henley rose from behind his military-standard desk
as the stunning blonde woman and her short bearded friend entered. He
never batted an eye. Captain Varruka Salt. Please have a seat. He
motioned to the swivel chair.
Leutnant Hamilton, would you bring in another chair?
Hamilton left, then rolled in another swivel chair moments later,
closing the door behind him.
Once his two guests were seated, the Colonel sat down as well.
Captain Salt, Ive reviewed your qualifications as well as your simulator
scores from here on Galatea. Youve logged an impressive number of
flight hours, most of them in a Leopard-class. Youve conducted combat
drops, field landings, and hot LZ extractions. Your application materials
say you have references available upon request. I am formally requesting
them.
She looked him straight in the eye. With all due respect, Colonel,
I have no references I am willing to give. My ability speaks for itself.
Henley frowned. Im not questioning your ability per se, Captain,
but rather seeking insight into your character. It says here you piloted
DropShips for Warrior House Matsukai prior to coming here to
Galatea. House Matsukai is based out of Bithinia in the Capellan
Confederation. You also claim to have seen action in the War of 3039. Is
this all correct?
Yes, Colonel, it is correct.
Why did you end your service to them?
Her red bearded friend growled. You dont have to answer that,
Varruka. Lets get outta here. With our talents we can land a gig almost
anywhere. He glared at the Colonel. And from some bloke who is a lot
less nosy. He kicked his chair backwards, getting ready to stand up.
She held up her hand. No, Spanner. Its a fair enough question
and Ill answer it, under two conditions. First, I want to see the
DropShip. Second, you will keep what I tell you strictly confidential,
whether we come to an agreement or not.
Agreed. But before we go to the SpacePort, I want to know why
youre interested in joining the 69th.
She considered for a moment. I came to Galatea because I
wanted to make a clean break from my past. But more than that, I wanted
to get in on the ground floor of something good. Ive got a full crew of
nine, including my XO, Chief Engineer Harrow here.
 She motioned at her friend and continued. A Captain is
responsible for the well-being of all the people under her and I want to
give them, and myself, a good home.
Her brown eyes flashed as she looked intently at the Colonel. I
was there at the arena fight. Thats how I first learned of your unit. Let
me tell you what I saw and what I suspect most people didnt notice. Your
men leapt off the balcony of their skybox the second they saw their
comrade in trouble. They risked their lives to save his. That speaks of a
fierce loyalty I find alluring, a loyalty I would like the chance to share in
and add to.
Henleys face was set in stone. Then why are you lying to me? I
checked. ComStar has no records of a Varruka Salt in the Capellan
Confederation, or anywhere else for that matter. You must have known I
would find that out sooner or later.
Salt winced. I changed my identity to protect both myself and my
crew. Im a good pilot, Colonel. I can do the job. I just need the
chance. A flicker of desperation showed in her intensely beautiful face.
The Colonel leaned back in his chair considering. He was pretty
sure he could trust the simulator scores and they were practically off the
chart. Its what first caught his eye when he was reviewing her
application. He needed a solid DropShip pilot with combat
experience. At the very least, the Carbonis raid would require both an
atmospheric drop and a field landing in hostile territory. Possibly even an
extraction under fire depending on how things went. Did she really have
any combat experience or was that a subterfuge as well?
He leaned back over his desk, his hands steepled in front of
him. Why do you want to see the DropShip, Captain?
You can tell most everything you need to know about a unit by
how well they maintain their equipment, Colonel.
She would be a gamble. Then again, everything he was doing was
a gamble.
He stood up, extending his hand. Meet me at the StarPort
tomorrow at 16:00, hangar 54, Captain, and Ill show you Shadowfax.
---
Sigil resigned himself to piloting the 45-ton HCT-3F
Hatchetman. Reluctantly, he climbed up the collapsible metal ladder and
into the cockpit. Might as well face the demons.
He'd killed the 'Mechs previous owner, Scotty McDaniel. His
recollection of it was vague but he'd seen the holovids of himself. All of
Galatea had by now. Killed him with Dawg's Sternsacht heavy pistol in
the very command couch he was now sitting in with three armor-piercing
hand loads at close range.
Dawg have given him the Sternsacht to keep after that. Said he'd
now earned the right to carry a man's gun. Hed been strapping the 1.5
kilogram handgun to the outside of his thigh ever since. It was a well-
crafted weapon, lovingly kept. The pistol grip was worn checkered
walnut, the body made from carbon steel plated with nickel. It only held
three rounds but Dawg said if you missed with the first one chances are it
wouldn't matter anyway.
Dawg had also taken the time to show him how to field strip and
clean the Sternsacht. Given him a kit with lubricants, solvents, brushes,
cleaning patches, and everything. Sigil got the feeling that the Sternsacht
meant something to Dawg but he didnt ask. Figured hed say if and when
he ever felt like it.
The weight of it on his thigh served as a physical reminder of the
fickle nature of combat. Weddle had said it true. He got lucky. Scotty
should have been sitting here right now and he should be the one who was
dead.
Killing people on the battlefield when theyre strapped into a
Mech was a different thing entirely, Sigil reflected. He never thought of
it as killing a person though, instead it was simply destroying a
machine. The pilot didnt have to die, although DCMS MechWarriors
were notorious for disabling their auto-ejection system. Thinking back to
Vega, he knew for certain that he had at least killed that Second Legion
Stalker pilot. Ammunition explosions had a way of doing. That was one
of the reasons he had stripped out the original Conan/S LRM-5 from the
75-ton Grasshopper he was piloting at the time.
Of course, now he was practically sitting on top of two tons worth
of high explosive autocannon shells, which were in turn sitting on top of a
fusion reactor. Great, just great.
He powered up the Hatchetman, intending to run a full set of
system diagnostics. He could barely detect the GM 180 as it came to life,
the small engine just providing a quiet little background hum. Its top
speed was a paltry 65 kph. It weighed 25 tons less than his old
Grasshopper yet it had the same top speed. Well, at least it had Luxor 2/Q
jump jets. Why would anyone pilot a Mech that didnt have jump jets,
anyway?
Lizzie Borden back from the dead. Messages began scrolling
down the primary display.
System Clock: OK
CPU Initialized Successfully
Accessing ROM BIOS: OK
Beginning POST
BIOS: OK
CMOS RAM: OK
CPU: OK
System RAM: OK
Loading Diagnostic Interpretation System
Actuators: 100%
Myomer: 100%
Gyroscope: 100%
Fusion Engine: 100%
Verifying Cooling Systems
Cooling System: 100%
Jump Jets: 100%
Sensors: 100%
Initializing Life Support System
Life Support System: Online
Initializing Targeting and Tracking System
Targeting and Tracking System: Online
Ejection System: Disabled
Waste System: 100%
Initializing Communications System
Communications System: Online
Initializing Damage Assessment System
Damage Assessment System: Online
Initializing Neural Interface System
Neural Interface System: Online
So far, so good. Of course hed still need to get a release from the
Colonel to verify the weapon systems. Probably not a good idea to test
them out here inside the hangar. Strike that, definitely not a good idea to
test them here. He left the weapon systems powered down.
The H.U.D. came up, followed by various secondary displays. The
Hatchetman was first commissioned in 3023, making it among the newest
BattleMechs designs in the Inner Sphere. Designed by Team Banzai out
of the famed New Avalon Institute of Science and manufactured by
Defiance Industries of Hesperus II, it was the first new Mech in well over
a hundred years, maybe even two. Hailed as revolutionary, it was also the
first Mech to carry a hatchet and feature a full-head ejection system. In
truth, it was a popular and well-respected BattleMech. He had to admit
that much. It had seen combat during the lead-up to the War of 3039 and
proved itself during the conflict itself and by all accounts. Most
MechWarriors would jump at the chance to pilot one.
 Unfortunately, he wasnt one of them.
The TharHes Ares-8a Targeting and Tracking System was one
reason. It just couldnt hold a candle to the Tek TruTrak he had retrofitted
into his old Hopper and compared to the Sloane he had in the Clint, it felt
like it was just one step above a simple line-of-sight system.
Ok, it wasnt that bad. In fact, it was generally considered a fairly
good T&T system but once you used Star League electronics, there just
wasnt any going back.
He sighed. Indeed, the Succession Wars had taken a heavy toll on
the ability of the Inner Sphere to produce advanced technology. Only now
were there faint glimmers that some of what had been lost over the last
260 years could be regained.
He shut Lizzie back down. The next step would require field
testing.

Chapter 4
Galatea
Lyran Commonwealth
3041

The Colonel had booked a couple of hours of time at one of the

live-fire training grounds on the far flung outskirts of Galatea City. He
said he wanted to check out his Battlemasters rebuilt engine and verify
the additional cooling capacity was working properly.
Whatever, hed been over that engine a dozen times, and had no
doubt it was working properly.
Still, Sigil was nervous. He really wants to see how my gunnery
is coming along, he winced as he spoke to himself in cockpit of the
salvaged Hatchetman. With this Ares-8a system it was likely going to
look pretty poor, he thought to himself.
They were heading out of the city. Sigil was out front in Lizzie,
the Colonels Battlemaster a good 300m behind him. At least the Ares
had a full 360 degree scanning arc as thought as he began flipping through
its various modes.
Galatea was a city built for Mechs, with broad, wide avenues and
ferrocrete throughways. You could actually walk around it in a Mech
without damaging the roads or worrying about a lot of pedestrian
traffic. Well, maybe not in the downtown.
Infrared mode came up, overlaying a color-coded heat scale atop
the visual display. He frowned as he scanned the Colonels
Battlemaster. What, no target identification? Wonderful, visual ID
only. No damage indicator either and it held one primary and four
secondary targets. He scowled, What a piece of crap.
He next flipped over to the electromagnetic sensors. At least it
estimated target weight. The Enforcer and Centurion cruising some
distance ahead of him showed as 40 tons. Well, at least it was close. Hed
have to give it a good plus or minus 25%. Ok, so it wasnt that
good. That could make an Atlas read like an Archer. He didnt recognize
the color scheme of the two Mechs in front of him but there were units
from all over the Inner Sphere here on the Mercenary Star.
He briefly flipped over to the motion sensors but surrounded by
movement almost everywhere, the H.U.D. just got way too cluttered,
running long, motion blurred tails behind everything that moved. Kinda
psychedelic the way they would cross and blend together.
He switched back to visual. They were beginning to pass into the
surrounding countryside now so Sigil throttled Lizze up to her full 65 kph
leaving the Colonels Battlemaster further behind. He spied a Crusader a
good kilometer away, heading towards another of the training
fields. Whats the lock-on range of this thing, I wonder?
He was moving at an angle to the Crusader so he was slowly
closing on it. Figured hed pass, at the closest, 500, maybe 600m away.
He watched the rangefinder spin down. 900m. 850m. 800m. Still
nothing.
750m. Bingo! The Crusader pulsed red briefly and then was
outlined in solid red. Target lock at 750m. Lets see, the LB-X
autocannon was good out to about 540ms. Ya, 750m would work.
He swiveled Lizzies torso back around, facing straight ahead as he
passed the Crusader.
He noticed a trio of Mechs ahead heading towards him,
presumably on their way back to Galatea proper.
The Hunchback was an easy visual ID, the massive Tomodzuru
autocannon atop its right shoulder was a dead giveaway. He
chuckled. Dead giveaway was right, that cannon was a legendary killer.
Commando. Another easy one. The distinctive helmeted
head. Besides, hed seen a thousand Commandos by now. One of the
most popular Mechs in Lyran space, there were multiples of it in every
LCAF unit he had ever served in. And, hed worked on a fair number of
them too boot. One of the favorite training Mechs used at Sanglamore to
teach gunnery and piloting, inevitably those on the tech track, like hed
been, cut their teeth repairing all the damage caused by aspiring
MechWarriors to those training Commandos.
The last one was a bit trickier. Wasp, maybe. It had an array of
four antennas crowning the head. Nah, it was too big to be a 20-ton
Wasp. Both the Valkyrie and the Phoenix Hawk had similar antenna
configurations, but this unit lacked the obvious jump jets of the Phoenix
Hawk, then again, hed run into that Kurita variant on Vega that didnt
have any.
As they drew near, he spotted the tell-tale missile tubes on its left
torso. Valkyrie then.
All three sported the same gray and white mottled camouflage
scheme.
He was startled as his TharHes Thalia HM-22 communications
system suddenly crackled to life on an open frequency.
A gruff male voice came out of the speakers. You the lucky punk
who killed McDaniel?
He blinked rapidly. Uh, yeah? Im Leutnant Sigil, 69th
Virginia Expeditionary.
The three Mechs closed around him in an arc.
I got a message for ya from Scotty!
Suddenly, the Tomodzuru spat fire with a thunderous roar as the
Valkyrie added its Sutel IX medium laser and the Commando unleashed a
full barrage of ten short range missiles, also adding its B3M medium for
good measure.
Lizzies axe wielding right arm simply disintegrated under the
awesome barrage spewed forth by the Hunchbacks massive Type 20
Autocannon, sending the hatchet spinning off behind him. Multiple
missile explosions rocked his Mech from top to bottom as the medium
lasers drilled holes in his chest and right leg. Three and half tons of armor
gone in a single bone jarring flash.
His instincts were good. He slammed the Luxor 2/Q jump jets
down, leaping straight ahead and over the heads of the three attacking
Mechs.
He hit the ground running at top speed, circling away and to the
left even as he fired a wild shot with the LB 10-X autocannon. It flew
wide, somehow managing to miss all three Mechs even though they were
grouped closely together.
He grit his teeth as they turned around, tracking him. Damn it,
Lizzie! Move your fat ass! She was too slow! He couldnt escape the
range of the deadly autocannon!
The Hunchbacks Tomodzuru roared again. Lizzie spun crazily to
right, corkscrewing to the ground as the Tomodzuru ripped away her
remaining arm and breeched the left torso where his autocannon was
housed.
Medium lasers from the Valkyrie and Commando burned into her
left leg and chest as the next volley of SRMs descended. He was
down! The missiles relentlessly pounded her chest, critically damaging
the autocannon and leaving him with only a pair of B3M lasers with which
to try and defend himself.
Struggling back to her knees, the now armless Lizzie Borden let fly
with her remaining weaponry.
Dammit, he was going to take someone with him!
He dropped the reticle over the Commando. Armor melted from
its right side but the two medium lasers just werent enough to breech the
armor of the light 25-ton Mech.
Perfect.
He was going to die on his knees.
---
Colonel Henleys 85-ton assault Mech was keeping pace with
Sigils Hatchetman as they left Galatea City proper. The command
console, elevated above and behind him, was empty. He still needed to
find just the right person to put there. The command console had a full set
of Mech controls identical in every way to the ones he was operating
right now.
Most commonly used to train MechWarriors, it could also serve a
critical, and often undervalued, combat function. It could allow him, or
someone else, to focus their full attention on the immediate tactical
situation in real-time, coordinating command, control, and
communications for the entire unit and potentially giving him a significant
edge on the battlefield.
But for now, he was just enjoying piloting the intimidating assault
Mech. It was literally bristling with a punishing array of weaponry. He
held the familiar Donal particle cannon in the Mechs left arm. It was
actually the same model used on the Warhammer, except he could dis-
engage his, freeing his hand if necessary. The Hammer had no hand
actuators.
Sigil had flipped the two rear-mounted Martells to the front, giving
him a total of six forward-facing medium lasers. A Holly six-rack of short
range missiles sat perched atop the left shoulder. At up to 270m away, a
single volley would cripple most any other Mech in existence, except,
perhaps, another assault class machine.
Not only that, with sixteen of the new double efficiency heat sinks
installed, he could unleash alpha-strike after alpha-strike without suffering
serious heat buildup. It was a monster.
He watched Sigil as began to slowly pull ahead as they entered the
countryside where the live-fire fields were located. He choose to maintain
a comfortable pace, hovering around 40 kph.
Sigil. He shook his head. I cant figure out whether that boy is a
genius or just too damn lucky for his own good, he muttered to
himself. During the initial battle for the supply depot back on Vega hed
jumped clear into the middle of a lake, effectively stranding himself there
since his Hoppers jump jets were mounted in the legs. To make it even
worse, hed landed with his rear facing more than lance of Second Legion
Mechs.
But, hed drawn the fire of every enemy Mech in the area,
ultimately saving Hamiltons damaged Warhammer from being
destroyed. It had actually turned the tide of the entire engagement. With
the Kuritans focused on the crazed Hopper sitting like a duck in the
middle of the pond, the rest of his lance had decimated them. And,
somehow, the Hopper came through it all still operational.
He sighed. Then, during the second battle of the depot, Sigil had
taken down not one, but two, assault Mechs, before his Grasshopper was
utterly annihilated. Another example of Sigil taking the heat for
Hamilton, allowing Hamiltons Warhammer to inflict maximum damage
for as long as possible. In fact, the Hammer had been the last Mech to
go down during that desperate battle and hed taken the Cho-sa of the
Second Legion down with him.
The Colonel didnt even want to think about the arena fight. For a
while, the holovids were all over the place and everyone was talking about
it. He must have seen the battle twenty times by now, from every angle,
slow-motion, image enhancement, everything. Not to mention, Sigil had
left his cockpit vidcam on the entire time. He shook his head.
Luck? Maybe. Hard for anyone to catch that many lucky
breaks. You just dont get lucky three times in row. Maybe he has what it
takes to be a MechWarrior after all.
The Colonel had gotten him reassigned to the Third Lyran Guard,
taking him off the tech side, promoting him from Corporal to Leutnant and
giving him MechWarrior status. Mostly he did it to uphold a promise to
Sigils dead brother, who had been a close friend of his back at
Sanglamore just before they were both sent to the front.
He gathered his thoughts back as he noticed a group of three
Mechs, sporting the same camouflage paint scheme as Sigils salvaged
Hatchetman, approaching. A Hunchback, Valkyrie, and a Commando.
The Hartford COM 4000 came to life. An unknown voice
growled, You the lucky punk who killed McDaniel?
Sigil responded, then all hell broke loose about a quarter kilometer
ahead of him.
The Hunchbacks Tomodzuru Type 20 blasted Sigils
Hatchetmans right arm instantly into scrap. The hatchet flew backwards,
skidding towards him on the ferrocrete roadway, the Hatchetmans hand
still wrapped around the handle. The two other light Mechs poured laser
fire and pumped flight after flight of short range missiles into Sigils now
one-armed Mech.
Sigil hit his jump jets, blasting into the air on twin streams of
flames, up and over the heads of the three attacking Mechs, landing
behind them.
The three Mechs turned 180 degrees and continued to mercilessly
unload on the Hatchetman. Its remaining arm was destroyed, spinning
Sigils Mech around in the process even as he fired a desperate shot with
his autocannon. Then, he went sprawling to the ground.
The Colonel accelerated his Battlemaster to its top speed, scooping
up the hatchet as he closed. All three attacking Mechs had exposed their
thin rear armor to his mighty war machine. They must not have
recognized he was with the Hatchetman, his Mech still had only a grey
primer coat of paint no it and carried no unit insignia.
He targeted all three simultaneously. A sextet of Martells reached
out towards the back of both the Commando and the Valkyrie, as he sent
the Donal and the six-rack at the exposed rear of Hunchback.
The Martells cored straight through the left torso of the
Commando, severing the corresponding arm and knocking out both its
medium laser and the ammunition for its six-rack. Hed eliminated over
two-thirds of its firepower with a single strike.
The effect of the other three Martells on the Valkyrie was even
more devastating. Two of them penetrated its thin rear armor, setting off
the LRM ammunition stored there. The Valkyrie was engulfed in a huge
explosion, shooting a fireball high into the sky as Mech scrap fell like
rain around the smoking crater where the Mech had been standing only
seconds before.
The Donal arced straight into the back of the Hunchback,
damaging the monstrous Tomodzuru autocannon, the bulky weapon nearly
filling the entire torso of the 50-ton Mech. Four of his short range
missiles exploded across its back as well but failed to do any more critical
damage.
Then he brought the hatchet hed recovered from Sigils Mech
down like an executioners axe. The incredible force generated by the
swing of his 85-ton Mech bent the handle even as he drove it deep into
back of the Hunchback.
The three-ton hatchet cleaved into the Hunchbacks left rear torso
with such spectacular force that it cut all the way through the entire torso
and into the adjacent engine cavity. With a terrible tortured metal scream,
the entire left side of the Mech simply peeled away and sloughed,
smoking to the ground.
There was deep, ominous rumbling sound. Then, the Hunchback
went up like a roman candle, the autocannon rounds exploding one after
another like a thunderously magnificent fireworks show.
He opened his COM 4000. Battlemaster to unidentified
Commando. Power down immediately or be destroyed.
The Commando shut down instantly, the pilot rocketing out on his
ejection seat.
He switched to the units private frequency. Leutnant Sigil, the
PPC generates an unusual amount of heat. You need to check it over
again. And your gunnery is still as poor as ever.

Chapter 5
Galatea
Lyran Commonwealth
3041

"Hey, Weddle, whatcha doin?"

Sigil strolled into the VXF lounge, plopping down on one of the
couches. An old holovid movie about the Fourth Succession War was on,
little Crucis Lancers 'Mechs were blowing up little Tau Ceti Rangers
'Mechs on Tikonov.
Weddle chuckled. "Just brushing up on my military science. Too
bad the War of 3039 wasn't like the Fourth Succession War. Man, the
Capellans got crushed! We barely managed to shift the border in
39. Anyway, what's up?"
"I gotta go into the city. I think I found a place that might have
some electronics I need for Lizzie. Wanna go with me?"
"Sure, just give me a few minutes to pull some stuff together and
get ready," Weddle laughed. "Going anywhere with you promises to be an
adventure. Anything could happen, I better be prepared."
He got up, heading off to his quarters. "See you back here in 15."
---
 Sigil and Weddle were speeding into downtown Galatea City. The
Hiring Hall, although not the largest building, was certainly the most
impressive, and it dominated the view. Filled with simulators, meeting
rooms, conference facilities, even restaurants and bars, the Hiring Hall
was the center of activity on the Mercenary Star. Its where most of the
wheeling and dealing went down. The Mercenary Review Board,
overseen by ComStar, was headquartered there.
Hovercars, like their own, zipped everywhere, most of them
hooked into the traffic management grid, running on auto-guidance.
There were a lot of helicopters too. Heliports were located on the
rooftops of all the major buildings and a few of the taller ones even had
pads extending out of the sides from some of the lower floors as
well. They should have gotten Kitten to give them a lift in her VTOL,
then they could have arrived in style. Then again, their destination was on
ground level so it wouldnt have mattered anyway.
The other easily identifiable building was ComStars Class A
HyperPulse Generator. It was instantly recognizable by its huge parabolic
antenna dish and surrounding fortifications. Supposedly it was guarded by
a unit of the Com Guards stationed there in Star League 'Mechs.
He'd already seen Star League 'Mechs before, though. During the
Vega campaign, he'd seen some of the Rhonda's Irregulars Mechs. They
were almost all Star League models. He'd even seen Rhonda Snord's 90-
ton Highlander. Now that was an awe-inspiring machine. And it was
jump capable.
"What are you trying to find anyway, Sig?" Weddle asked.
"That piece of crap Ares-8a doesn't have target identification or
damage analysis. Seriously, I don't even know why they bothered to make
it."
Weddle grinned, Best targeting and tracking system I ever used
was the Optical Mark I. Even my old T-bolts RCA Instatrac Mark X
didnt have target and damage ID. Im not sure Ive ever piloted a Mech
with those kinds of capabilities. My Griffin certainly doesnt have them.
The Optical Mark I? Never heard of it. Who makes it? Whats it
in? Sigil look excited.
Weddle cracked up. Kerensky! Sometimes youre really
clueless, Sig. He continued laughing as he pointed to his eyes. Optical
Mark Is!
Sigil rolled his eyes.
Im serious, Sig. I can make a visual ID of any Mech in the
Inner Sphere. I know their silhouettes like the back of my hand. Better
than even money, I can make an ID off a thermal scan too. Now magscan
IDs, thats a whole different story. Way hard, but I knew a guy back in
Sanglamore who could identify a Mech from a magscan about 75% of the
time. He never would tell me his secret, though, Weddle shrugged.
He continued on. Besides, like you need a computer to tell you
when youve blown off someones arm. Most damage is obvious. Swear
to Kerensky, I can tell when I crit from the color and type of sparks it
throws off.
Sigil rolled his eyes again.
Weddle snickered. I like to keep my Optical Mark Is on the
target not on the info displays.
The hovercar slowed, stopped, then shifted laterally into a parking
space.
Sigil opened the gull-wing door, getting out. Weddle followed.
A large chrome sign proclaimed Dietrich Vinh - Custom System
Integration and Advanced Electronics.
Sigil pushed open the heavy glassteel plate double doors. Clean,
cool, filtered air washed over him.
The interior was immaculate. Rich hardwood counters and glass
display cases filled with antiquities lined three walls, all finished with real
brass hardware. There was a door behind the counter in the far wall
leading further back, probably into the work ares. Two small exotic wood
tables surrounded with fully upholstered, natural leather chairs filled out
the room.
A mild tone called out as Weddle and Sigil entered. Moments
later, a balding, heavy set man emerged from the door behind the
counter. He had monocle hanging from a golden chain around his neck
and wore a tweed suit with a vest underneath.
Greetings, gentleman. He had a thick Lyran accent. Im
Dietrich Vinh. How may I help you today?
Sigil strode up to the counter as Weddle took a seat in one of the
overstuffed leather chairs.
Im running a TharHes Ares-8a. I need a Target Identification,
Damage ID, and an Indirect Fire Support expansion module for it.
Vinh responded without hesitation. The Ares-8a only has five
available expansion slots. You cannot fit all of those modules into
it. Target Identification fills three slots just by itself. In order to reach
that level of capability, you would need to upgrade the entire targeting and
tracking system to at least an Ares-80.
What about a TharHes Star Shark? Ive got one in a Commando
right now I could pull out.
In the aftermath of the incident at the live-fire range, the Colonel
had claimed the Commando as salvage, nominally as compensation for the
damage done to Lizze Borden. Maybe itd turn out to be useful for
something after all.
Vinh nodded. The Star Shark has target identification built in. It
is, in fact, the top of the line targeting and tracking system produced by
TharHes Industries of Tharkad. However, it does not offer damage
analysis, nor indirect fire support, although it has the capacity to accept
those enhancements.
Perfect. I havent used the Star Shark before. How else does it
differ from the Ares-8a?
Vinh paused a moment, then looked down at the hardwood counter
as he placed the monocle over his left eye.
Assuming both systems are fully operational, the Star Shark
accepts two additional primary targets and one additional secondary target
as compared to the -8a. It has built-in target identification as we discussed
before. Its lock-on range is approximately 120m greater than the Ares-8a
and it is mildly less sensitive to heat extremes.
He looked back up at Sigil, the monocle dropping back down to
hang at his chest. However, it does not have a reset switch and it is
significantly more difficult to modify and repair due to its complexity. I
will also point out that it lacks both the built-in aerospace targeting and
anti-missile support your current Ares-8a has. Although, once again, I
believe it has the capacity to accept those expansions.
Sigil rubbed his chin. Ok, so how about this then? Ill swap out
the Ares-8a for the Star Shark. And Ill add target damage analysis,
indirect fire support, a reset switch, and volley fire.
Vinh nodded. That is technically possible. However, you may
find it prohibitively expensive. I estimate a project of that magnitude
would cost in the neighborhood of 600,000 C-bills and likely take a month
to complete.
Sigil whistled. Sorry, Deitrich, I dont have that kind of time or
money. Ill do the work myself. How much for just the parts?
Vinh frowned, held the monocle up to his left eye again and slowly
looked Sigil up and down before tucking it into his breast pocket.
Would you allow me to examine your Sternsacht?
Sigil frowned. Huh? Oh, my pistol? Sure, I guess.
He un-holstered the heavy pistol from his thigh, laying it on the
counter, with a loud thunk.
Weddle, noticing Sigil pulling out the Sternsacht, tensed. What the
hell is Sig doing? Is he handing that guy a loaded gun? Blakes
Blood! What!? Is he completely devoid of common sense!? No wonder
shit hits the fan when hes was around. Weddle kept a wary eye on the
store owner.
Vinh picked up the heavy firearm, ejecting the magazine with a
practiced click, catching it in his other hand. He pulled the receiver back
next, ejecting the shell in the chamber. He placed the magazine and the
round on the counter as he slowly turned the Sternsacht around in his
hand.
This is a beautiful weapon. An antique. Id estimate it to be at
least 350 years old. He examined the grip as he slid his monocle back
over his left eye, examining at the bottom of the grip closely.
As I suspected. This weapon was originally a Star League
officers sidearm, most likely belonging to at least a Captain. A rare find,
indeed, especially in such excellent condition. Exquisite. He placed the
pistol back on the counter, looking back up at Sigil.
The parts alone will cost your over 200,000 C-bills. In addition,
the work is not like simply changing out a Martell medium laser. It is very
exacting, requiring an intimate knowledge of targeting systems,
programming, and electronic engineering. And a keen eye for detail, a
single syntax error can render the entire system unusable. These skills are
very hard to find today.
Sigil waved his hand away. Yea, yea. I pulled out the Allet-
C3087 and T11 and from my old Grasshopper a couple years back and
replaced them with a Tek Battlecom and TruTrak. You just sell me the
parts, Ill take care of the data translation, field mapping, programming
and recalibration myself.
Dietrich Vinh took another long appraising look at Sigil. If I may
inquire, where did you come by these skills?
Oh, I was on the Tech track at Sanglamore back on Skye. I
served a few years doing tech for the Skye Rangers before transferring to
the Third Lyran Guard for a combat assignment. My old Sergeant Major
told me I was gifted. He said I could make Electronics Engineer if I
wanted. Sigil shrugged. I didnt want it. I wanted to take it to the
Snakes instead, he grinned.
Vinh nodded. You saw action in the War of 3039, did you? I
was in Operation Gtterdmmerung myself back in 28 and 29. I was
with the Eighth Donegal Guards on Moritz. We rolled up the 5th Sun
Zhang Academy Cadre like an old carpet.
Vinh smiled and continued on. The good ole days. Things have
changed considerably since then. The Free Rasalhague Republic, the St.
Ives Compact, the Com Guards, even the Federated Commonwealth itself
didnt even exist when I was serving in the LCAF.
 Change means one thing for sure, plenty of work for us
mercenaries, Sigil grinned.
Dietrich Vinh frowned again. I will sell you parts only for
235,000 C-Bills. But I will not give you any performance guarantees. I
only guarantee the work I do personally. If thats agreeable, transfer the
sum to this account and provide me an address to deliver the parts. I will
deliver them myself. Id like to watch some of your work. I am always
looking for men and women of talent and they are scarce, indeed.
Sigil retrieved his Sternsacht from the counter. He reloaded the
heavy pistol, and slid it back into his thigh holster.
Thanks, Deitrich. Ill transfer the funds by tomorrow
evening. Id like them delivered as soon as possible. My unit is deploying
within the month.
He took the contact memcard from Vinh and turned around to
leave.
Weddle got up from the overstuffed leather chair. About time,
Sig. If youre done geeking out, lets get something to drink. I know the
perfect place.
---
Colonel Henley was at his desk reviewing the growing roster, and
expenses, of the 69th Virginia Expeditionary Force. Over sixty people in
his command now. The bulk of them were in the two infantry squads,
Dawgs and Captain Ernie McMillans.
Dawg had come to him maybe ten days ago with an interesting
offer. A recently retired LIC field officer had approached him. Said hed
put together a squad and was looking for the right opportunity.
Henley still wasnt sure exactly what Dawg had told him about the
69th but the long and short of it was that McMillans squad has signed on.
Which was fine with him. McMillian had expertise in demolitions,
security systems and interrogation. With a skill set like that, he was
definitely Black Ops. The truth of it was, he didnt really want to look
that close. He might find something hed rather not know. Besides, Dawg
was his XO and he ran that side of the house. You dont second guess
your own people.
The 25-ton Nightshade VTOL McMillan brought with him didnt
hurt either. After Dozer was killed on Vega, hed been trying to figure out
how best to replace him. The crusty old tanker had saved them all when
he knee-capped that Hunchback. And he had paid the ultimate price for
it.
So, that brought the 69th to two squads of infantry, a Ripper and
Nightshade VTOL, his Battlemaster, a Griffin, Shadowhawk and a
Hatchetman. Plus the Leopard-class DropShip and the salvaged
Commando. A small, but formidable force. The perfect raiding group and
raids always offered the highest pay. And the highest risk.
To the extent possible, he wanted to minimize the chance of any
unwelcome surprises. Unfortunately, about the only thing he had any
control over was his units readiness and equipment. To that end, hed
booked hours at one of the live-fire fields on the outskirts of Galatea and
had developed a rotating schedule. Dawg, McMillian, Kitten, Hamilton,
Weddle, and Sigil. Theyd all have live-fire time. It wasnt cheap,
especially when you added in the cost of munitions, but he deemed it
necessary.
Hed also directed Captain Salt to take Shadowfax on a shakedown
cruise. And, most importantly, verify that all of the weapon systems and
Mech bay doors were operating properly. He was already mulling over
the plan of attack for the Carbonis raid. That was why hed also asked her
to conduct a few strike and strafing runs.
The Leopard carried two PPCs, an LRM-20 and three medium
lasers on its nose. Another LRM-20, two large lasers and two medium
lasers were located on each wing. The aft sported a single heavy laser and
a pair of mediums. It wasnt an assault DropShip by any stretch of the
imagination, but it carried way to much firepower to ignore.
And, if things went south, it was also their only way out.
The Colonel silently worried alone in his office. It was suddenly
just two all too short weeks until they were due to link up with the LCAF
JumpShip taking them to Carbonis and into their first trial-by-fire as the
69th.
---
The Colonel had asked Weddle to take Sigil out to the training
grounds for a simulated assault scenario. Their lasers were on low power
and the ballistic and missile rounds carried garish red-paint
warheads. Weddle was stationed by a little mock-up building which was
supposedly the warehouse. Sigil was out there somewhere in Lizzie.
Sig had done him a good turn on his Griffins refit. Originally
armed with a Fusigon particle cannon and Delta Dart ten-rack, hed asked
Sig to reconfigure the weapons load to resemble that of his former 65-ton
Thunderbolt. It was the loadout he was most familiar with and had one of
the best damage-over-range curves of any BattleMech, and best of all, just
got worse as you got closer.
His Griffin, dubbed Lil Bolt, now carried a Sunglow Type 2
heavy laser, a drum mounted Delta Dart 15-rack, a pair of Diverse Optics
Type 18 mediums and ten of the new Freezers. For once, Weddle was
thankful Sig was such a stickler for detail. Hed bought the weapons from
the exact same manufacturers that provided the weapons for the
Thunderbolt. If it wasnt for the Rawlings 55 jump jets, he could almost
imagine he was sitting in a T-bolt. Actually, hed heard the Eridani Light
House made a jump capable Thunderbolt variant, the -5SE. One day, hed
have to check that out.
His attention was drawn back to the training field as his targeting
and tracking system chirped at him. Bingo. The Octagon Tartrac had
found him. Weddle throttled up Lil Bolt, swinging him around to the
eastern side of the warehouse as he loaded the Delta Dart. He had 90m on
Sigs autocannon and Sig would pay for every meter in armor, and if he
was lucky, maybe even a bit of internal structure to boot.
He throttled up as he put himself on an intercept course with the
Hatchetman, opening up a bit of space between him and the warehouse he
was defending.
At 630m, he let fly with his first salvo of LRMs. Blobs of red
paint splattered across Lizzies right torso and left leg. Weddle chuckled
in his cockpit as he opened his com.
Oh sorry, did I hit you?
He wheeled Lil Bolt backwards, maintaining long range. He
could walk backwards just about as fast as the Hatchetman could run
forward.
He let fly a second salvo from the Delta Dart while they were still
over half a kilometer apart. More paint blossomed across both of Lizzies
legs as well as along the left side of her chest.
Whats the matter, Sig, cant find the trigger? Weddle taunted.
As if in response, Sigil triggered his LB 10-X autocannon, sending
paint dripping down the Griffins right leg.
Looks like I found it, Weddle! Why dont you save us both the
trouble and surrender now!?
As if you stand a chance, Sig. This isnt the arena and your lucks
all used up.
A third flight of long range missiles arced down on the
Hatchetman, clustering on the right torso. Im one nasty shot, Weddle
grinned, Time to have some fun.
He switched directions suddenly, bringing the Griffin charging
towards Sigil, stabbing down the trigger for the Sunglow heavy as he
passed within 400 meters and scoring a hit on the Hatchetmans right arm.
Sigil responded with another blast from his autocannon. Weddles
Mech stumbled as his right leg showed as breached and the computer shut
down his lower leg actuator to simulate the critical damage. Damn, that
bastard is lucky! Weddle snarled in his cockpit.
Im gonna blow it clean off next round, Weddle! Last chance to
surrender and save face! Sigil retorted.
Weddle recovered his footing. Thank Kerensky the Hatchetman
was slow, he didnt want to be forced into physical combat. That was the
one area in which Lizzie held the clear advantage.
220m. It was alpha-strike time. Blakes Blood, those Freezers
made all the difference. Lil Bolt sure ran cool.
The LRMs grouped on Lizzies right leg as the Sunglow scored a
hit to her chest. One of the Diverse Optics flew wide but the other scored
another hit on the right leg, penetrating the armor.
Sigils Mech lurched forward awkwardly as the training computer
shut down both the hip and upper leg actuator. Lizzie could barely move
but she still managed to fire another blast from her autocannon, drilling his
Griffin in the chest as her matched Defiance B3M mediums scored a
second hit to his chest and another to his left arm.
Weddle hit the Rawlings, leaping back a full 150m.
Looks like youre a sitting duck now, Sig. You gonna try and
waddle over here? Weddle laughed as he fired both the Sunglow and the
Delta Dart. This time the Sunglow landed short but the LRMs destroyed
the last of Lizzies right leg, effectively ending the fight.
Lizzies restricted movement caused Sigils last autocannon round
to furrow into the ground harmlessly and then his Mech locked up,
simulating the fact his Mech had been disabled.
Face it, Sig. It wasnt even close. Looks like youre buying,
again.
---
The Colonel looked across his utilitarian desk at Leutnant
Weddle. Give me your frank and honest assessment, Lt.
Colonel, as you ordered, Ive taken Sigil out to the live-fire fields
with me three times now. I mopped the floor with him every time. He
drives that Hatchetman like it was his old Grasshopper. Problem is, it
doesnt have anywhere near the armor of the Hopper so every time he
moves in to try and get close, he gets shot to pieces.
Weddle shook his head, and continued. The Hatchetman just
isnt a good fit for him. Its a street fighter, a brawler. Perfect for close
quarters or urban combat, but out in the open it needs someone who
understands it limitations and has the patience to work their way in
without just charging on in like a mad bull. Otherwise, its just scrap,
even with the extended range of that LB 10-X autocannon.
Weddle spread his fingers out. Dont get me wrong, Colonel,
Lizzies a good Mech. There isnt anything wrong with the design, you
just need to understand how to use it. Doesnt look like Sigil gets it to
me.
Weddle shrugged.
The Colonel leaned forward onto his desk, fixing Weddle with a
hard, emotionless stare. Whats your recommendation?
Weddle paused, pulling together his thoughts, as he shifted
uncomfortably in his seat.
Everything that is said in my office, Leutnant, will be kept strictly
confidential and I take that very seriously. If I cant trust you, and the
others in my unit, to tell me the unvarnished truth, then I am not only
putting all of our lives at unnecessary risk but Ive also failed as a
commander.
Colonel Henley leaned back in his swivel chair, giving Weddle the
time to formulate his thoughts and chose his words.
Colonel, if there was ever a pilot made for a CGR-1A1, its
Sigil. But I think it would be a mistake to put him in that
Hatchetman. During the first assault on the supply depot on Vega, he
barely managed to hit anything. All he succeeded in doing was drawing
fire off Hamiltons Warhammer. And the only reason he survived that
was the thirteen tons of armor on the Hopper. And, he was even luckier
that the Hopper has such heavy rear armor.
And when the Second Legion launched their assault on the depot,
whatd he do then? He charged an entire assault lance. He did the same
thing in the arena fight and he did the same thing on the live-fire
fields. Charged. Whats he going to do in Lizzie? Charge. I guarantee
it.
Weddle glanced around nervously. Ill tell you one more thing,
Colonel. Look, Im not a superstitious person. Well, no more so than any
MechWarrior. But, I caught Sigil one night sitting in the cockpit of that
Hatchetman. I could tell he was reliving that arena fight. Had that
haunted look people get whove faced death one too many times. Then,
during his first time piloting Lizzie, he goes out to the training grounds
with you and almost gets himself killed. You were there. You know
better than I what happened there, but it sounded to me like he choked. I
dont think he believes in her, sir. And if you dont have faith in your
Mech, youve got one foot in the grave already.
Henley nodded, Thank you, Leutnant. Dismissed.
Weddle snapped a crisp salute and turned, leaving the Colonels
office.
Damn, the Colonel was one impossible bastard to get a read
on. Id hate to play poker against him, Weddle thought.
---
Dawg was next. The Colonel couldnt ask Hamilton. Hamilton
would be obligated to stick up for his second, and besides, he didnt want
to put him in a position where he might have to be critical of his friend.
Colonel Henley stood up as Dawg entered. Have a seat,
Captain. He motioned to the already well-worn swivel chair. The
muscled jump infantry commander filled the entire chair and then some.
Give me you assessment of Sigil. Ive noticed since the arena
fight you two have spent some time together.
Dawg nodded. Good kid. I know its hard to believe. I barely
believe it myself, but hes actually a lot like me. Hes a gambler, a risk-
taker. Its in his bones. He cant help himself. But Ill tell you this, he
makes things happen. I dont care what anyone says, and Ive heard some
of the others talking, but back on Vega he saved all our asses. Twice. If
Hamiltons Hammer had gone down our assault would have faltered,
possibly failed completely. And if he hadnt taken down those two Kurita
assaults, we wouldve been wiped out when the Dragon came back for us.
Thats what I mean. He makes things happen. Every unit needs
someone like that, otherwise its stalemate. He tilts the balance and so far
its always been in our favor. Now Im the first to admit that next time the
balance might go against us, but Ive always preferred decisive
engagements. Its one of the reasons I signed on with you,
Colonel. Youre a gambler too, but more in a calculated risk kind of
way.
Thank you, Captain. Now tell me what your thoughts are on
McMillian and his squad.
For a second Dawg actually looked suspicious, glancing away. If
I told you what I thought, Id have to have assurances it would stay strictly
between you and I.
The Colonel cocked one eyebrow and fixed Dawg in his
sights. Please proceed, Captain. You have my assurance this discussion
will be kept only between the two of us.
Well, hes Black Ops for sure. Has the look of a man wholl do
anything. And I mean anything.
Dawg paused, giving Henley a meaningful look, before continuing
on.
Hes killed, I can tell that just from looking at him. And I dont
mean only in combat. I mean hes killed people. Borderline ruthless. In
combat, Im sure hes a terror. After combat, hes probably still a
terror. But when I went looking for someone to cover my ass, hes just the
kind of man Id trust with my life. Hell get it done. Whatever it takes. I
cant ask any man for more than that but thats exactly what I ask for.
You trust him, then?
Dawg looked the Colonel full in the face. Yes, sir, I do.
The Colonel met Dawgs gaze holding it for a long time. There is
something youre not telling me.
Dawg grinned sheepishly. Well, Colonel, Im not sure exactly
how to put this.
Try.
I think he could still be an active LIC agent. I know a good thing
when I see it but I also know when I see something thats too good to be
true. McMillans qualifications could take him anywhere. He could land
a gig with any unit. Why the 69th, I keep asking myself? And is it a
coincidence that he showed up right after you accepted a contract with the
LCAF?
Dawg shrugged, then added, I dont know anything. Just a gut
instinct. But my gut also tells me hes in 100% . Im not worried about
having him at my back, in fact, I cant think of anyone Id rather have
securing my rear.
Thank you, Captain. Dismissed.
---
Sigil walked into the Colonels office next. You wanted to see
me, sir.
With a wave of his hand, Colonel Henley motioned towards the
serviceable swivel chair across from his desk.
Sit down, Leutnant. Ive been reviewing your combat
performance, simulated battle assessments, and unit evaluations.
Sigil eased himself slowly into the swivel chair, immediately on
guard. The seat was already well-worn and in fact it was still warm from
the previous occupant, whomever that had been.
Im promoting you to First Leutnant along with the attendant
increase in salary. Im also designating you as the units Electronic
Warfare Officer, which also carries additional compensation.
Sigil looked stunned. His mouth opened, hung that way for a
moment, and then snapped back shut, without a word ever being uttered.
The Colonel continued. Leutnant, you have a very specialized
and extremely rare skill set. Your work on the regenerative cooling
systems of both my Battlemaster and Leutnant Weddles Griffin deserves
praise. I note your former Master Sergeant recommended you for Master
Technician and his written evaluation places you in the top one percent in
regards to computers and other electronics. He also marked you as
possessing excellent engineering potential. Furthermore, your work on
targeting and tracking systems is beyond anything Ive ever seen. Not
only did you retrofit the TharHes Star Shark into your Hatchetman but you
also significantly expanded its capabilities at the same time.
Sigils eyes were growing larger by the second.
The Colonel paused, holding his hands up. Dont worry,
Leutnant. Even though that would normally be considered an
unauthorized transfer of unit equipment, Im willing to overlook it. This
time.
Sigil nodded dumbly.
Now, regarding the upcoming Carbonis raid, Im pulling you out
of the Hatchetman. I want you to run my Battlemasters command
console. I will be holding the first mission briefing tomorrow at 08:30 in
the conference room. At this meeting, I will discuss the overall assault
plan and assign individual responsibilities.
Sigil blinked twice and swallowed hard as the Colonel continued
without pause.
You will be largely responsible for managing the successful
execution of the battle plan. The command, control and communications
functions will fall to you, with my oversight, at the command console.
The Colonel paused, looking at Sigil and then actually
chuckled. I expect I will be distracted by multiple enemy targets.
Sigil sat perfectly still for a long time. His brow furrowed as he
finally found his voice.
Youre youre taking me out of Lizzie?!
Sigil faltered, then recomposed himself. I mean, Im not piloting
the Hatchetman, sir?
The Colonels calm, calculating manner never
wavered. Excellent, First Leutnant, I was beginning to think you didnt
understand a word I just said. Mission Briefing 08:30 tomorrow.
Dismissed.
Sigil slowly rose from the swivel chair looking disoriented and
confused. He was halfway out the door when he suddenly remembered to
turn and salute the Colonel.

Chapter 6
Galatea
Lyran Commonwealth
3041
 Captain Varukka Salt was striding smartly towards the Colonels
office. She had a lot on her mind. Shed just requisitioned almost
200,000 C-bills worth of long range missiles and another 120,000 for four
new ablative drop cocoons for the upcoming raid. Spanner was still on the
Shadowfax getting the old DropShip ready for departure. Well, as ready
as shed get anyway.
Kerensky, she hated presenting bills to the CO.
Ahead, she saw the Tech just coming out of the Colonels
office. As he drew closer, she noticed his thousand yard stare. And he
was coming straight at her.
She shifted to one side of the hallway, then clipped him with her
shoulder as he passed, spinning him roughly around almost a good 180
degrees.
She yelled angrily, Hey! Tech! Watch where the hell youre
going would you!
He whirled suddenly on her and she didnt like what she saw in his
face one bit. Shed seen it before. The dangerous look of a feral, half-
crazed man about to come unhinged.
The Colonel appeared in the doorway of his office. Let it go,
Captain Salt. Please come in. He gestured into his office.
She strode quickly into the Colonels office leaving the Tech
standing alone in the hallway.
---
Sigil roared into the lounge, fixing Leutnant Weddle with a gaze as
sharp as daggers and full with the promise of violence.
You dirty little snitch! You ratted me out to the Colonel, you
bastard! He stalked across the lounge, closing on Weddle.
All this time youve just been pretending to be my friend. All the
while, youve been spying on me for the Colonel, you traitorous rat!
Weddle got up from his chair, standing, arm crossed as Sigil
approached threateningly.
Sigil sneered. I hope youre happy. The Colonel just pulled me
out of Lizzie. Im the units new glorified radio operator.
He came lunging at Weddle, throwing a haymaker at his face as he
flung himself forward.
Weddle dropped instantly into a defensive crouch, easily ducking
the wild punch and retaliating with two quick strikes to Sigils exposed
solar plexus.
Sigil instantly went down hard, the wind knocked completely out
of him. Chairs fell over all around, as he rolled around on the ground
trying to regain his breath.
Weddle stood over his prone form, smirking. The only thing that
sucks worse than your gunnery, Sig, is your unarmed combat.
Enraged, Sigil launched himself from the ground, wrapping both of
his arms around Weddles waist as he tackled him.
Smashing into the table behind them, they slid across its surface,
Sigil pounding Weddles stomach as Weddle socked him in the eye.
The table gave way, its surface simply splitting down the middle,
spilling both combatants to the ground with an earsplitting crash as they
continued to wail on one another.
Dawg, Hamilton, Kitten, and McMillan, alerted by the racket, all
suddenly pulled up just shy of the lounge as they saw the brawl in
progress.
Weddle had finally managed to get on top of Sigil, pinning his
arms to the ground. Sigils left eye was already beginning to swell up.
Dawg barked out. I think thats enough! Both of you! Now
clean this mess up! On the double!
Dawg turned, looking down the hallway. Colonel Henley and
Captain Salt were approaching. He called out, Sorry for the interruption,
Colonel. Everythings under control. Mechanical failure.
The Colonel stopped, giving Dawg a long quizzical look. Then he
snapped a crisp 180 degree turn and he and the DropShip captain returned
to his office.
---
Corporal Southers still marveled at how he got here. It just goes to
show the difference going to the right academy makes. Hed graduated
from Sanglamore, took a commission with the Eighth Donegal Guards and
then been promptly shipped out right into the middle of the War of 3039.
And not just any commission either. Hed gone straight into a
frontline assault lance where hed been assigned an antiquated 80-ton
STC-2S Striker. There hadnt been a new Striker made since 2867 when
the Stormvanger assembly lines on Caph had been
destroyed. Stormvanger Assemblies was also the same company that
made the better-known 90-ton Cyclops. They were both rare Mechs but
the Striker was by far more uncommon. In fact, some people just blinked
dumbly at him when he told them he piloted one.
Armed with a Hellstar particle cannon, a Defiance Killer class 10
autocannon and a trio of medium lasers it demanded respect. The 13.5
tons of armor didnt hurt either. A less tangible advantage was the fact it
was a relatively unknown chassis. He suspected hed caught more than
one Snake off guard with its rare design.
 Not that it ended up making much of a difference. The Eighth had
run smack into one of the so-called DCMS Ghost Regiments. Yeah,
hed learned a thing or two about unusual Mechs during the Altais
campaign himself. Guillotine, Black Knight, Kintaro, Daboku, the First
Ghost had been full of surprises, all of them unpleasant.
Ultimately, the Eighth, supported by both the Dragonslayers and
the legendary Gray Death Legion, succeeded in taking the planet from the
First and Second Ghost. Theyd paid for it, though. And his Striker had
ended up as part of the bill. One of the resurrected Guillotines as a matter
of fact had brought him down. Who expected the Dracs to be fielding a
70-ton Mech with jump jets? I mean, the DCMS stripped the jump jets
off their own Phoenix Hawks, right?
Like with everything else about the War of 3039, in the end it
didnt matter. A successful DCMS counterstrike ended up cutting off
Altais from their supply lines. After paying in blood and Mechs the
Eighth and their mercenary allies simply packed up and left. The Eighth
returned to Sevren and that was that, the war was over.
When the Eighth didnt assign him a new Mech immediately, he
took it as a sign. Theyd lost at least a third of their fighting strength on
Altais and there was every indication there would be a long refitting
period next. So when his tour was finished, he just rotated out instead of
waiting around to see what would happen next.
Thats how hed ended up here on Galatea, the Mercenary
Star. He knew he was a good pilot. Plus, he had combat experience with a
respected house line unit. He wasnt quite ready to walk away from the
cockpit, so he figured hed spend a year or two on the Star and see if
anything developed. It was a long shot considering he was Dispossessed,
but not an impossibility.
Hed already been on the circuit for more months then hed care to
admit when he found out the 69th Expeditionary was hiring. Hed put off
following up on it for a while. He was still hoping to land a Mech with
an established and well-respected unit. One with a history behind it. Hed
really hoped the Grey Death Legion would take him on but that hadnt
panned out. Neither had the Kell Hounds, the Eridani Light Horse or the
Northwind Highlanders. Ok, sure, hed aimed high right out of the gate,
but who wouldnt?
So, eventually, hed found his way into Colonel Jason Henleys
office. The Colonel had noticed his dark green silk sash immediately. He
still wore it for some reason. It marked him as a graduate of Sanglamore
on Skye. Anyway, turned out all the MechWarriors in the 69th were
Sanglamore graduates. Well, when I say all, that really just means
four. The 69th consisted of a single lance, two jump infantry squads, a
pair of VTOLs and a Leopard-class DropShip. Yeah. Small.
But amazingly, the Colonel had spare Mechs. Not just one, but
two. A Commando and a Hatchetman. The Colonel did his due diligence,
called the references hed provided who were still in the Eighth Donegal,
verified his Sanglamore transcripts, reviewed his combat sims,and then
offered him a chance to get back into the cockpit.
Naturally hed accepted and just as naturally picked the heavier of
the two Mechs, the 45-ton Hatchetman. After Sanglamore, he was
terminally sick of Commandos. The ironic thing was that Sigil, a fellow
Sanglamore grad, had retrofitted the Commandos TharHes Star Shark
targeting and tracking system into the Hatchetman. Consequently, he felt
right at home in the cockpit even though hed never piloted a Hatchetman
before. Not only that, hed actually improved the Star Shark. It was a
surprisingly nice ride.
And not just the improved electronics. He was caught even more
off guard when he found out it carried one of the new LB 10-X
autocannons. It had to be black market. That grade of hardware was
house military only and even then it was restricted to only their elite
units. The 69th might be a new unit but they were sure starting out with
top-of-the-line tech. Rumor was the Colonel was some kind of landed
gentry back on his home planet. Well, the money must have come from
somewhere.
For him, in the end it all came down to just one thing.
He wasnt dispossessed anymore.
---
The command staff of the 69th Virginia Expeditionary Force filed
into the conference room. One wall was dominated by composite satellite
imagery of the IMB factory complex on Carbonis that had been provided
by the LCAF.
Their target.
The various captains arrived first. Varukka Salt, the captain of
Shadowfax, the units Leopard-class Dropship was the first to
arrive. Wearing her trademark rust colored leather body suit, stunstick at
her side, she reclined back into her seat, sipping coffee.
The infantry captains were next. Dawg entered dressed in his
BDUs and on his heels was Ernie McMillan, a recent addition to the
unit. Ernie was in a crisp black dress uniform. Not a single identifying
mark on it. No name, no rank, no unit insignia, nothing. Only the military
cut of the uniform gave any indication he was armed forces. Black Ops
and he looked the part. They both sat down next to each other already
beginning to examine the satellite intelligence.
Next came Leutnant Weddle and Leutnant Hamilton, both
chuckling as they entered. Coffee in one hand, donut in the other, they
had the rumpled appearance of someone just waking up. They plopped
down into a pair of chairs, looking around at the others. Weddles eyes
paused and lingered on Salt for just a moment too long. She turned to
meet his interested look with a pair of eyes as cold as ice, challenging him
to continue to hold his gaze. He quickly shifted off her, pretending to
study their target, the IMB warehouse.
The click of the Colonels immaculate dress shoes was
unmistakable to them all by now. Moments later he strode into the
conference room, his eyes taking in his assembled command staff as he
closed the door behind him.
He frowned. Weddle and Hamilton both straightened up in their
chairs, their smiles replaced with looks of studious interest.
The Colonel was armed with a long antique maple pointer. It
snapped with a crack against the enormous display behind him.
This is the IMB factory complex on Carbonis in the Free Worlds
League. They produce as many as eight different BattleMech targeting
and tracking systems. The systems are assembled here. There was
another crack as his pointer smacked against a large fortified factory
building.
The pointer slid down towards a smaller building nearby. After
they are assembled, they are warehoused here in this structure
approximately 250m away.
A prolonged groan sounded from the door to the conference
room. Sigil, wearing a huge, ridiculous pair of aviator shades, was
suddenly the center of attention as he was caught trying to slip into the
mission briefing unnoticied. He froze as seven different sets of eyes
transfixed him.
The Colonel cleared his throat. Sigils mouth began to open but
the Colonel cut him off before he could get a word out.
As I was saying, this is the production and assembly area. 250m
away, here, is the warehouse where the systems are stored prior to being
shipped off planet. This, here, houses the power generators for the entire
complex.
And this is how were going to destroy the entire facility. He
paused, making eye contact with each of his seven officers before
continuing.
The LCAF JumpShip will be using a pirate navigational point to
get us as close to the planet as possible. Captain Salt will then conduct a
hard burn to make planet fall at 02:00. Ive received additional
intelligence from the DMI indicating there is a navigational satellite in
geo-synchronous orbit over the target area. As we enter the atmosphere,
we will attempt to take control of that asset to provide us with detailed
topographical information for the area and potentially a real-time feed of
the battlefield depending on its scanning capabilities.
The DMI also indicated a high likelihood of hardened
weaponized turrets around the main factory building. Possibly between
three and seven such turrets.
Once we enter the atmosphere, Leutnant Weddle, Leutnant
Hamilton, Corporal Southers and myself will all drop from ablative
cocoons to the planetary surface. If all goes well, Hamilton, Southers and
I will land adjacent to the power generators, while Weddle will land near
the storage facility. If turrets are indeed present and active, the power
generators will be the primary target. If not, we will instead proceed to
attack the factory itself, engaging other targets as required. Lt. Weddle
will provide cover fire and engage targets of opportunity.
After deploying the Mechs, Captain Salt will continue her
descent and once she reaches low altitude open the bay doors to allow the
jump infantry to deploy. They will land here and here, near the initial
position of Leutnant Weddles Griffin. They will storm the warehouse, set
explosives and blow the structure as quickly as conditions allow. Satellite
imagery indicates it is not a reinforced or heavy structure.
Captain Salt will then conduct a strafing run against the main
factory structure. It is critical the turrets, if present, are disabled before
she makes her attack, otherwise there is a significant possibly our transport
will be damaged. The Colonel paused a moment to let the gravity of the
situation sink in.
A successful strafing run will roughly cut the time required to
destroy the factory in half. Time is our enemy, people. DMI estimates a
company of Mechs onsite. Carbonis, as a whole, is host to the entire
Ninth Marik Militia, including a full BattleMech regiment. You can be
sure there is at least another company of Mechs not too far away.
Using the information from the navigational satellite, Captain Salt
will then proceed to locate the nearest suitable landing location. Once
grounded, the Ripper and the Nightshade will launch to provide advanced
warning of any other approaching units. Shadowfax will be essentially
defenseless at this point.
Once the factory is destroyed, the two VTOLs will recover the
infantry and we will make best possible speed to the LZ. We lift off, dock
with LCAF JumpShip and depart the system.
 The Colonel scanned all of the assembled faces. This plan relies
on speed and surprise. It is essential we avoid a long protracted
fight. Remember the objective of this mission is the destruction of the
industrial complex.
Crack! His maple pointer bounced off the image of the assembly
plant as he repeated, The industrial complex. Period.
We will take a fifteen minute break and then reconvene for
discussion. He walked over to the attached data terminal, swiping his
finger across the screen. The satellite image of IMB Systems disappeared.

Chapter 7
Carbonis
Free World Leagues
3042

Sigil was nervous sitting high and behind the Colonel in the
Battlemasters command console. Strapped into an ablative drop cocoon
with a single hardwire connection to the DropShips communication
system, it felt lonely too. Especially after the close confines during the
transit here.
Even after Spanner had made extensive modifications to the two
aerospace bays, there was simply no getting around the fact the Leopard-
class just wasnt designed to transport infantry squads in addition to
BattleMechs. Consequently, the 69th Expeditionary had been tripping
over each others feet for over three weeks now.
And the smell. The reclamation and sanitation systems had been
pushed to their absolute limits, probably over their limits, frankly. When
you added it all up, jumping off the DropShip into the high altitude
atmosphere of a hostile planet in an 85-ton war machine with no jump jets
suddenly didnt seem like such a terrible idea.
Captain Salts feminine voice interrupted his thoughts.
Standby to enter planetary atmosphere. Make sure all gear is
properly stowed and secured.
The LCAF JumpShip had entered the system using a pirate
point. He had to hand that much to the LCAF Captain. Shed successfully
calculated the jump solution otherwise they wouldnt be here right
now. Always a risky move, a single miscalculation and who knew what
would happen but it was a safe bet that it wouldnt be anything good.
A high-speed burn followed the jump to Carbonis and, anytime
now, the high altitude combat drop would commence. Even densely
wrapped in the drop cocoon, Sigil felt Shadowfax buck as they hit the
atmosphere. Captain Salts voice came over the com once more.
Encountering significant turbulence. Ive got major winds up
here and the scanner surface winds in excess of 60 kph. If youre going to
make target, its going to be one hell of a rough ride. Otherwise, I can
shed altitude, circle back around and try again. On the bright side, it ought
to keep their aerospace fighters grounded. Colonel?
Understood, Captain. Commence drop as planned. Repeat. Drop
on initial pass. We will correct mid-fall as necessary. Over.
Sigil shifted uncomfortably in his command couch. Colonel
Henley addressed him within the confines of their shared cockpit.
Lt. Sigil, I want you to pilot the drop. You have more experience
handling jump jet controls than I and youre an excellent pilot. Get us on
the ground in one piece and Ill take over the controls from there. Once
we land, you will be managing the tactical situation and handling
coordination between our Mechs, the infantry, the VTOLs and Captain
Salt. You know the battle plan. Make sure its executed properly.
Sigil saw the reflection of the Colonels face against the canopys
glassteel. The Colonel was actually smiling as he added, Ill be
concentrating on the destruction of the factory complex and anything
foolish enough to get within range.
Captain Salt came over the comlink, beginning the
countdown. Opening Mech bay doors in Time minus 30 seconds.
T minus 10
T minus 5
4
3
2
Bay doors open.
1
---
There are two distinct phases to a combat drop. First, controlling
the fall. Second, the landing. And that didnt even count the shedding of
the ablative cocoon. Sigil found his hands full right from the start.
Salt hadnt done them any favors on the drop. The bucking
DropShip had basically thrown the 85-ton war machine out of the Mech
bay. Consequently, their angle of attack was way off right out of the gate.
Altimeter, fuel gauge and a false horizon were the extent of the
avionics on the drop cocoon. Oh, and of course the ground proximity
warning just in case you werent aware of the ground rushing up to meet
you and needed a little reminder.
Sigil brought the Mechs legs underneath its main bulk, canting
forward about thirty degrees as he started a long burn with the strap-on
jump jets. As the Battlemaster began to slow, he brought its torso and
head slowly into alignment with its legs. Not bad.
Suddenly, the proximity klaxon started screaming. Reflexively,
Sigil bore down hard on the jump jets. Hed always piloted Mechs with
jump capability, so it was instinctive to hit the jump jets whenever any
kind of unexpected trouble occurred.
Usurper! Had it taken that long to get lined up!?
He flexed the assault Mechs legs hoping to at least take the edge
off the impact. He could see the lights of the IMB factory complex clearly
now. Four long spears of light were tracing seemingly random patterns
across the night sky.
Searchlights. Well, you couldnt exactly hide 2,000 tons worth of
DropShip now could you?
Brace for landing!
He never let off the jump pack.
With a bone jarring impact, the 85-ton Mech hit the ferrocrete
pavement surrounding one of the IMB buildings. Both knees bent as he
shot out the Mechs left arm to stabilize their landing. Chunks of
ferrocrete exploded around them, surrounding them with a haze of
swirling dust particles as they drove over a meter deep into the ground.
Sigil winced, minor damage to both legs.
The Colonels voice broke his concentration. Im assuming
BattleMech control.
Sigil directed his attention to the Hartford XKZ 1 as he flipped the
COM 4000 over to the encrypted command frequency.
Status Report. Over.
Captain Salt was first, Rear bay doors open. Infantry drop in
progress. On target in 30 seconds. Over.
Weddle. Over. His voice was mixed with the sounds of nearby
explosions. Count four, repeat four, active weapon turrets on the main
factory building, numerous spotlights active as well. Im taking heavy
missile fire. Likely LRM-20s. Over.
Sigil was thrown back against the command couch as the Colonel
unleashed the full firepower of the assault in a single blinding
flash. Sections of the building visible through the Mechs glassteel
canopy were pulverized, leaving gaping holes and gashes all along its
exterior.
 Salt abruptly cut in. Colonel, you better have those turrets
powered down by the time I conduct my strafing run if you plan on getting
a ride back off this planet. Otherwise She left it hanging.
Sigil quickly scanned the targeting system. Actually, her drop was
pretty good. Theyd landed on target, adjacent to the IMB power
generators. Hamiltons Shadowhawk and Southers Hatchetman were
within a hundred meters of his current position. Weddles Griffin was due
south, near the warehouse.
So far so good.
Thank Kerensky the XKZ 1 had target identification. Between the
near darkness and the looming industrial buildings blocking his line-of-
sight, visual identification would have been nearly impossible. As it was,
four targets were glowing red and neatly labeled.
A QKD-4G Quickdraw was just on the far side of the generators,
about 150m northeast. A HER-2S Hermes II was off to their right 120m, a
SHD-2H Shadowhawk 120m to their rear and further back a UM-R60
Urbanmech near Weddles Griffin.
He flipped the com open. Ive got four enemy Mechs! A
Quickdraw and Hermes II by the power generators and a Shadow Hawk to
our rear. Weddle, watch for that UrbanMech over by you!

Chapter 8
Carbonis
Free World Leagues
3042

The searchlights atop each of the buildings were sweeping back

and forth across the industrial site, their powerful beams searching for the
Mechs that had just dropped from the night sky. Lt. Weddles cockpit
was briefly flooded with light before his canopy polarized as a pair of the
beams transfixed his 55-ton Griffin.
Seconds later, long range missiles began exploding all around him
from the turrets atop the main fabrication facility. They clustered heavily
along his right side, blasting away more than a ton of armor in the process
and leaving his valuable right arm with its Sunglow Type 2 heavy laser
dangerously exposed.
Hitting the jump jets, Weddle sent his Griffin leaping backwards
behind the storage building, seeking cover from the LRMs. Moments later
the squat, armless form of the Marik Urbanmech came trundling around
the side.
He was ready. A trio of lasers stabbed through the darkness, the
heavy Sunglow and the pair of Diverse Optics mediums mounted in his
right torso.
He grinned in satisfaction as sparks flew from the Urbanmechs
Imperator B autocannon that served as the Mechs right arm, the weapon
now canting awkwardly down obviously damaged. The other medium
laser scored the armor on its right leg. The 30-ton Mech was now
effectively disarmed, having only a single Harmon light laser left to
defend itself.
His com cracked to life, Dawgs gruff voice coming through the
static. Hey Weddle, mind making a door for the boys and I? Were
deploying now. Were going to blow that warehouse and you might not
want to be standing too close when it goes up!
The Urbanmech had already retreated back from where it had
come from as Weddle turned his weapons against the wall of the
warehouse. Hot loading the warheads of his Delta Dart 15-rack, he sent
the full firepower of his war machine against it. Laser fire and warheads
slammed into the steel structure, causing numerous holes to appear in the
skin of the now damaged building. A vicious kick opened a hole directly
into the interior causing dim light to spill out across his Griffins
feet. Gripping the edge of one of the ragged holes with his left hand, he
peeled back an even larger section of the exterior wall.
Mission accomplished, Dawg. If you cant make it through that
hole, you gotta lose some serious weight! Heads up, Im leaving that
trashcan for you to deal with, Im moving in support of the Colonel. All
that UrbanMech has left is its small laser and I took some of the armor off
its right leg. Should be easy work, even for a pack of grunts. Over and
out.
---
The Colonel was barking out orders over the command frequency
even as he fought with his BattleMech. Corporal Southers, keep that
Shadow Hawk busy while Lt. Hamilton and I take down the power
generators. Sigil, get that satellite online, ASAP!
The Battlemaster shuddered as the Colonel unleashed a devastating
alpha-strike against the hardened ferrocrete bunker housing the power
generators. The 85-ton Mech bucked as its heavily armored foot drove
into the side of the building, followed by a punch from the left arms
battlefist. Standing next to him, Lt. Hamiltons Shadow Hawk was doing
exactly the same thing as both Mechs strove to destroy the fortified
structure as quickly as possible. Thankfully, they were both located on the
opposite side of the building, away from the turrets and blissfully out of
their direct line-of-sight.
Sigils fingers were flying over the control surface immediately
above and behind the Colonel. Come on! Come on! COME
ON! Whoever was running the communications grid on Carbonis had
taken at least a few steps to prevent unauthorized access. He changed
tactics as he saw a sudden burst of communications traffic from the nearby
assembly plant. Switching on the HartfordCo COM 400s spectrum
analyzer, he had their frequency identified in seconds.
Captain Salts tense voice interrupted him. Colonel, Im lining up
for my strafing run now. Those turrets still look active. ETA 30
seconds. And wheres the satellite you promised me?
Sigil grunted in dismay, the Battlemaster jerking once more as the
Colonel unleashed another full salvo against the bunker, following it up
with another bone jarring kick. The Colonel growled, What the hell are
you doing back there Sigil, you arent watching some goddamn Solaris
holovid! Get that satellite to Captain Salt, NOW!
---
Hearing the Colonels orders, Corporal Southers wheeled his 45-
ton Hatchetman around to face the Marik Shadow Hawk and started to
advance. The missile lock indicator started screaming just as he was
lining up his Defiance Disintegrator LB 10-X autocannon. A flight of
LRMs slammed into him from behind, evaporating the thin armor on his
right rear but thankfully failing to damage anything internal. The right
arm and leg took the remaining missile strikes, but just as he was
reorienting himself, the Shadow Hawks Armstrong J11 opened fire and
began chewing away at his other arm.
The Colonels voice broke over the com. Southers! Get the hell
outta the LOS from those turrets! Theyll turn you into scrap in seconds
hanging out there in the open like that!
Southers jerked the throttle into reverse, hastily adjusting the
targeting reticle and letting fly his first shot of the engagement. The
Disintegrator spat forth a large slug which went sailing harmlessly over
the Shadow Hawks left shoulder.
It was Sigils voice this time. Southers! Watch that Hermes!
Hes coming around your left flank at full speed! As if on cue, the
Hermes opened up with its Oriente medium autocannon, stitching a line of
holes across his right torso.
Southers froze, his mind torn in two, first by the Shadow Hawk
bearing straight in at him and second by the Hermes on his left flank. The
few precious seconds of indecision cost him as both Mechs continued to
pour fire on him. Autocannon rounds pounded his torso, as the Mechs
closed in on him, adding their short range weapons into the mix. A pair of
medium lasers drilled into his already damaged Mech, one to the chest,
the other to the right leg, as the Shadow Hawks Holly SRM-2 missed
high.
It was all he could do to keep upright and stumbling backwards.
Shouldnt he be returning fire, he thought to himself?
---
Weddle had seen it before. Southers was quickly approaching the
breaking point, if he wasnt there already. He surprised himself with the
realization that for all his flaws, Sigil had never frozen up. In fact, just the
opposite. He was a hot-head all the way. Shoving the thought aside, he
stomped on the Griffins Rawling 55s, sending his Mech arcing towards
the beleaguered Hatchetman, the three streams of fire emanating from his
back illuminating the night in a bloody right glow.
LRMs from the turrets screamed past his jumping Mech as he
dropped his reticle over the HER-2S. He sent both the Sunglow and Delta
Dart at the 40-ton Mech catching it unaware. Half a ton of armor melted
off its left leg as a full dozen of his LRM exploded all across it.
You think that got his attention? Weddle chuckled to himself.
Just as quickly as his smiled appeared it was gone as his missile
lock indicator started blaring again. He braced himself for the
inevitable. He knew when hed made that jump he was exposing himself
to the turrets.
Southers! Get your shit together, man! Forget the Hermes! I got
it covered! You keep that Hawk busy! Weve got to keep the heat off
Hamilton and the Colonel! If they dont knock out the power to those
turrets, were all scrap!

Chapter 9
Carbonis
Free World Leagues
3042

Lt. Hamilton was focused on reducing the wall in front of him

rubble. Out of the corner of hie eye, he saw the Marik Quickdraw come
tearing around the north side of the building and grit his teeth. Hed just
have to eat it. Two Omicron 4000 mediums along with its Hovertec Quad
slammed into his left side, savaging his arm.
 Still, he remained on target, ignoring the 60-ton Marik machine
and continuing to hammer away at the wall with everything he had. Large
cracks appeared and huge chunks of ferrocrete fell to ground, throwing up
clouds of dust and further obscuring the already dark scene.
The Colonels voice rang out over the din. Hamilton, remain on
target. And you might want to duck. Im about to give your little friend
over there a welcome.
Hamilton dropped his Hawk to one knee as he continued to
hammer away at the wall. He unleashed another full salvo against the
already severely damaged section of the bunker the Colonel and he had
been working on. He was rewarded almost immediately as a large section
of the wall fell away, shattering as it hit the ground and exposing the
interior of the power station.
Power station breached, Colonel. Time to shut this baby down!
The Colonel smiled briefly as he tracked his torso to the left and
locked onto the Quickdraw. The firepower of his assault Mech was truly
staggering, especially at short range. A full sextet of Martell mediums and
a Holly six rack, all led by his powerful Donal PPC, coalesced with grim
precision on the enemy Mech.
A trio of the Martells completely melted away the armor protecting
the Quickdraws right torso. Then one of the SRM warheads exploded
against the exposed internals, followed by the devastating Donal particle
cannon. Most of his remaining weapons hit the right leg but the true
damage had already been done.
The Quickdraw shuddered violently under the onslaught as the
pilot fought to keep his machine upright. But it was a losing battle. The
Hovertecs ammunition bin in the right torso exploded violently outwards,
lifting it off its feet and throwing the 60-ton Mech backwards like a rag
doll. As explosions continued to wrack the Mech, it began to pin wheel
in mid-air before it was thrown viciously to the ground where it was
finally consumed in a huge fireball which briefly lit up the night sky.
The Colonels cool voice came over the com. Target
neutralized. Hamilton, bring those generators down ASAP. Captain Salt
is getting anxious.
---
Terminal velocity. What a great name, Dawg thought to himself as
he fell from the sky at almost 200 kph. His squad was arrayed out on
either side of him, having just commenced the HALO jump from the small
craft bay of the Shadowfax.
His jump infantry squad was heavily weighed down. Jump packs,
sub-machine guns, shoulder mount missiles, satchel charges and other
assorted explosives hung from the webbing of the soldiers under his
command as they free fell through the night air towards their target.
He could see the long arms of the searchlights waving back and
forth looking for the intruders in the darkness as he plummeted towards
the industrial site. His altimeter spun rapidly. As it dropped below 1000
ft., he began firing his jump pack in short bursts beginning to shed the
excess velocity in preparation for landing.
Squad, prepare for landing. It looked as if the night sky was
filled with fireflies as the flames of 21 jump packs sparked to life in the
darkness.
Dawg fired one last long sustained burst from his jump pack as the
ground rushed up to meet him. Then he was on the ground, the sound of
the rushing wind replaced immediately by the crack of autocannon fire
and the tromping of the heavy war machines all around him.
As he glanced left, he saw Weddles Griffin illuminated by the
spotlights, LRMs exploding all around his Mech as he headed northwest
towards the power generators. Ahead of him was the gaping hole in the
storage depot Weddle had created for him only moments earlier.
Check in by the numbers! he called into his headset, as he
thumbed the quick release on his jump pack, readying his Mauser 9000 as
he did so and taking stock of his platoon.
The calls came back instantly. Platoon One, all accounted for,
Sir! Second Platoon, full strength, Sir!
A quick glance around revealed that his own platoon had come
through unscathed as well. One and Two, in through the breach and set
the charges. Three with me. Were gonna clean up the trash Weddle left
behind.
Fourteen heavily armed marines swarmed through the ragged hole
in the side of the warehouse, their jump packs left behind scattered about
the ground like leaves. Dawg motioned his platoon ahead, his men
readying their assorted weapons as they headed towards the corner of the
warehouse.
---
Weddle fought the controls of his Griffin as the turret mounted
LRMs mercilessly pounded his exposed position. It was moments like
these that made him miss the 13 tons of Ryerson 150 armor his former
Thunderbolt sported. Warheads exploded all across his chest, both sides
now dangerously low on armor. A few of the warheads also found their
way to his right arm, leaving it entirelydevoid of armor. She was taking a
beating.
As he closed on the relative safety of Colonels position, the
Hermes II spun around, heading his way. Looks like hed gotten its
attention after all. His reticle was still tracking it and as the range
between them closed they both let fly with everything they had. His
Sunglow nailed it center mass, evaporating a half ton of armor off the 40-
ton Mech. Nine of the Delta Darts LRMs hit as well, stripping more
armor from its chest and creating a line of ragged craters up its right
leg. One of the Diverse Optics mediums drilled the other already
damaged leg, the second missing wide. One good kick to either leg would
probably send it to the ground. He grunted in disappointment as he
shoved the throttle wide open only to discover it was already there.
Again the HER-2Ss Oriente autocannon fired, sending its depleted
uranium slugs eating away at the structure of his severely damaged right
arm. One more hit to the arm and it would be destroyed, denying him his
main weapon system in the process. The Irian medium laser struck his left
torso, now leaving less than a quarter ton of armor protecting it.
The two Mechs rushed together as a gout of flames from the
Hermess Olympian flamer bathed his Griffin in fire, sending the internal
temperature even higher, but the Freezers Sigil had installed back on
Galatea managed to keep it in check.
His right leg shot out connecting solidly with the left leg of the
Marik Mech as it returned the kick. Armor plates crumped on his right
leg but it was the first damage it had taken and the armor held nicely.
However, it was another story entirely for the Hermes. With 55-
tons of weight behind his foot, he punted the left leg of the Hermes
entirely off, sending the mangled remains flying end-over-end across the
battlefield and sending the -2S crashing roughly to the ground at his feet.
He didnt stop to admire his work, however, not with those weapon
turrets still active. As he continued past the fallen Hermes, he was pleased
to note Southers had finally gotten his shit together.
---
Sigil jumped frequencies to the one used by the IMB
communications center trying a different tack at gaining access to the
satellite. He glanced up as the Battlemasters command console was
bathed in a fiery red, watching in macabre fascination as a 60-ton
Quickdraw ceased to exist.
The Colonels voice interrupted him from the command couch just
below and in front of him. If youre done watching, Lt., you might want
to consider doing something useful before I activate the waste reclamation
circuit and send you out with the rest of the feces in here.
Sigil quickly returned his attention to the control surface,
continuing to try and convince the satellite he was a friendly. This had
better work, he thought to himself, as he stabbed the transmit button yet
again. The seconds dragged by interminably as he waited with bated
breath. Finally, his console flashed.
Uplink established.
Thank Kerensky! Satellite online, Colonel! he yelled across the
cockpit. Im patching it through to the Shadowfax now!
Sigil opened up the command net. Captain Salt, Ive got your
satellite! Patching the uplink through to you now! And its a nice
one! Infrared imagers and look-down radar. Looks like an Antares series.
Real nice. Itll have full topographical info for ya. Should be a cinch to
locate a suitable LZ.
The comlink crackled to life, Im a bit busy right now, tech, but
its about deamn time! Salt snarled over the radio. Targeting main
factory complex now. Keep your heads down out there and if youre good
little boys I might even give you a ride home.
Sigil flipped over to the satellites infrared feed. Uh oh, Colonel!
Ive got a lance of inbounds, vector 45, 600! Putting them up on your
secondary now. Looks like another Quickdraw, a Phoenix Hawk, Cicada,
and a Wasp, but I cant be sure. Theyre moving fast, though! Theyll be
in range in just over a minute!
---
Captain Salt cursed as Shadowfax bucked and bulled its way
through the thick lower atmosphere. They didnt call the Leopard-class
The Brick without reason. She was being a bitch to line up on target
and even worse about staying there.
She fought, muscled, and cajoled the control stick while constantly
babying the output of its V84 drive system. Fire control,
standby. Commencing final approach to target. Make it count people,
were only making one pass. Focus fire on the main assembly building.
She noted the searchlights were still active, in fact, the entire
complex was still sprinkled with lights. Curses that would make a space
marine blush flew from her mouth. Brace yourselves, were going to
take fire! Spanner, keep a close eye on the drives. I cant afford any
surprises flying this close to the ground unless you dont mind ending up
as a crater, she growled.
Shadowfax carried a respectable amount of firepower. Dual PPCs,
a trio of LRM 20s, five large lasers and seven mediums completed her
armament. And with the exception of the aft mounted large laser and two
mediums, she was going to put it all on target.
The huge 1,700 ton spacecraft roared like thunder over the IMB
factory complex, huge horizontal pillars of flame spewing from its
massive engines as the monolith tore through the night sky.
Sixty missiles, a fusillade of laser fire and twin particle cannons
burst forth from her boxy aerodyne frame as all four roof mounted weapon
turrets switched to track her. Seconds later they all returned fire, sending
up a full eighty long range missiles of their own to greet her.
Shadowfax was rocked by missile explosions, heavily concentrated
against her left wing. The Leopard-class DropShip began listing
dangerously to the port side as Captain Varukka Salt began barking
commands.
Spanner, full throttle port engine! Cut the starboard to 75% and
fire the port side landing thrusters! She wants to auger in!
She wrenched the control stick hard to the right, sweat beading
suddenly on her forehead. Sanchez! Find me a goddamn LZ RIGHT
NOW! This bitch is going to land one way or another!
She whispered to herself, Dammit Colonel, you promised those
turrets would be down before I arrived.

Chapter 10
Carbonis
Free Worlds League
3042

All of the training finally kicked in as Corporal Southers sprang

into action. He continued falling back, staying out of turrets line-of-sight,
firing his Defiance Disintegrator at the approaching Marik Shadow
Hawk. The slug slammed into the Hawks left leg, crushing the armor
plating but failing to slow it down.
The Hawk responded with its J11 autocannon, returning the favor
as rounds exploded against his own left leg but its LRMs overshot him.
Then they began exchanging short range weapons fire. One of his
B3M mediums missed wide but the other scored a hit center mass. The
Hawks Martell drilled into his left leg for the second time, leaving only a
scant quarter ton of armor remaining there. Both missiles from its Holly
twin rack hit as well, blasting hunks of armor off his chest and left
arm. Hed taken damage everywhere and the wire diagram projected in
the corner of his HUD showed his entire Mech outlined now in yellow
and orange.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Weddles Griffin illuminated
by the spotlights as missiles rained ruthlessly down upon it from the
turrets atop the roof of the main assembly building. The scene was
quickly obscured in smoke and fire, the last thing he could make out was
Weddle charging across the industrial grounds towards the enemy
Hermes.
He snapped his attention back to the Shadow Hawk as it continued
to rapidly close on him, clearly not intimidated by the hatchet he was
wielding. He abruptly reversed his movement, throwing the 45-ton
Hatchetman into a lumbering run straight towards the Hawk. Raising the
hatchet above his head, he prepared to cut down the 55-ton machine.
Youre only allowed a single mistake in this game, bud, and you
just made it, he thought grimly to himself.
The two Mechs unloaded on each other again, this time practically
at point-blank range. The slug from Southers Disintegrator buried itself
in the Hawks already damaged left leg, entirely destroying the armor and
taking some of the structure with it as well. His twin B3Ms sent armor
streaming off its right arm but somehow he failed to critically damage the
Marik machine.
The Hawk stumbled as the slug lodged itself in its leg, causing its
torso mounted autocannon to chew up the ferrocrete directly in front of
him. There was a blinding flash of light as its Martell laser drilled him in
the head, sending him bouncing off the side of the cockpit wall and
momentarily disorienting him even as one of its SRMs exploded against
his right leg.
The three ton hatchet flailed wildly, cutting through nothing but air
as Southers struggled to keep his Hatchetman upright. The Shadow Hawk
aimed a wicked punch at the damaged Mechs head, missing as the
Hatchetman unexpectedly staggered to the side as it continued fighting to
maintain its balance.
---
Hamilton leaned through the hole in the side of the power station
and began laying waste to the interior. He fired his trio of lasers as fast as
they would recycle and his Hovertec Quad as quickly as it would
reload. Huge explosions ripped through the building as he systematically
destroyed the dynamos, alternators, induction engines and other related
power generating equipment.
Seconds later, the entire IMB Systems complex was plunged into
darkness as the power cut out. There was a low rubble as a few backup
generators kicked on creating isolated spots bathed by red emergency
lighting.
Still, he reported the obvious. Power generators destroyed,
Colonel. Proceeding to the main factory complex now. Over.
 ---
Sigil was screaming from the console behind the
Colonel. Shadowfax is hit! Damage to the port wing! Shes gonna land
rough! No LZ coordinates yet! A second Marik lance will be entering the
factory perimeter in less than 30 seconds! Im picking up a lot of
encrypted traffic from about 10 klicks out! The cats outta the bag! No
other additional contacts at this time! Both Southers and Weddes
Mechs have moderate damage! Dawgs engaging the damaged
Urbanmech now and the rest of his men are preparing to blow
warehouse! Enemy Quickdraw destroyed! Hermes crippled and weve
got a Shadow Hawk on our six!
The Colonel began wheeling his 85-ton assault Mech around as he
started issuing orders over the command net. Weddle, provide fire
support for Hamilton. Hamilton engage the incoming enemy
lance. Southers and I will take care of the primary. Dawg, move on the
main entrance to the primary once youre done with the secondary.
As he completed his about face, he calmly tracked past the
stumbling Hatchetman, dropping his targeting reticle over the approaching
Marik Shadow Hawk. The Battlemaster shuddered briefly as the Colonel
unleashed another blistering fusillade of high energy explosive death.
The Donal PPC slammed into the damaged right arm of the Hawk
vaporizing it instantaneously and leaving only a sparking and smoking
stump on its right shoulder. Five of the six Martells bored holes all over
the Hawk, one of them burning through the armor of its left leg and
boiling away a portion of the structure underneath. Four of his SRMs
continued rocking the Hawk, blasting even more armor off its chest and
further weakening the structure supporting its left leg.
To his credit, the Marik pilot managed to keep his feet throughout
the punishing barrage but the Colonel was already shifting his BattleMech
around, angling in on its heavily damaged left side. As the Hawk
straightened back up, its torso tracking to the left, the immense form of the
Battlemaster towered over it, filling the Marik MechWarriors entire
viewscreen. The Marik pilot fired what weapons he had left, but the
Battlemasters free hand had already gripped the barrel of the torso
mounted J11, bending it away. Two SRMs exploded against the
Battlemasters chest, but the armored giant barely even registered the
damage.
The thick heavily armored leg of the Battlemaster smashed into the
weakened left leg of the 55-ton Shadow Hawk, mangling the limb beyond
repair and sending the Hawk crashing brutally to the ground now missing
two limbs.
 The Colonel didnt skip a beat. Shadow Hawk
neutralized. Engaging primary target.
---
Fourteen heavily armed marines came racing around the corner of
the storage warehouse. As they did so, first platoon dropped to their
knees, bracing their shoulder mount SRMs as they did so. Third platoon
pulled up immediately behind them, readying their SRMs as well, except
they remained standing.
Dawg continued issuing orders, Target right leg. Fire! Fourteen
missiles streaked forth simultaneously towards the already partially
disarmed Marik Urbanmech. Warheads exploded all up and down the
right leg of the 30-ton Mech, sending hot armor fragments flying and
stripping the last remaining armor from the leg.
Dawg continued barking orders into his headset, Drop
launchers! Swarm right leg! The Marik pilot started wheeling
backwards firing his remaining small laser at the approaching
infantry. Dawg saw one of his men vaporized as they rushed headlong
towards the war machine.
This was as intense as it gets. And exactly what the Colonel had
promised him. Adrenaline flooded his system as he and his men launched
themselves onto the slow moving Mechs leg. Set satchel charges! 15
seconds! Then clear!
He slapped his own pentaglycerin charge directly against a section
of exposed internal structure then dropped fifteen feet, hitting the ground
and rolling away, his men doing much the same all around him.
CLEAR! The Urbanmechs leg exploded as the charges planted
directly on it blossomed. Rally on me! Machine guns, standby! Keep on
that right leg.
The smoke from the charges partly obscured the scene as the
Urbanmech struggled to remain standing. Its right foot had been blow off
causing it to teeter unsteadily on its left leg. It fired wildly with its small
laser, a lucky shot catching another of Dawgs marines and killing him
instantly.
Fire! A dozen machine guns opened fire on the mangled right
leg, multiple streams of slugs eating away at the last remaining
structure. With a horrific groan, the leg collapsed under the concentrated
fire, spilling the 30-ton Urbanmech to the ground. The ground shook as it
landed heavily on its right side, crushing what little remained of the stubby
right arm Weddle had damaged earlier.
Two, status! Dawg called out, his platoon leader responding
immediately.
 Charges set. Heading out of the breach now. Minor resistance.
One wounded. Ready to blow the building in ten. Clear the
area! Standby in 5 4 3 2 1.
Another huge explosion ripped through the night, a pillar of flame
illuminating the sky as the storage warehouse went up in an enormous
fireball, destroying the valuable Mech targeting and tracking systems it
contained.
This is Dawg. Target destroyed. Urbanmech disabled. Over.
He flipped back over to his platoon frequency. Recover launchers
and jump packs! Rally on me. Theres still a bit of fun to have had,
lads. He laughed, then turned to recover his gear.
---
What the hell do you mean, seasonal!? Captain Varuka Salt
screamed at Sanchez on the bridge of Shadowfax.
Its a nice long, flat and straight river bed, Captain! Looks like a
possible LZ! Its the closest thing I got but it marked Seasonal.
Salt bellowed, Well, what the hell is the season, Sanchez!?
I have no idea, Captain! Im not from around here! Looks clear
on thermal.
You want me to land this bitch in the middle of a goddamn river,
Sanchez!? Seasonal!? She continued fighting furiously with the control
stick. Spanner, I need more juice from the port engine and thrusters
NOW!
She turned briefly, spearing Sanchez with an evil eye. Find me
something else, Sanchez, or Ill throw you right off this freakin bird and
then you can tell me what blessed season it is!
Sanchez frantically searched the topographical data from the
satellite as Shadowfax continued bucking. Ive got a secondary roadway
you could try, Captain! I dont see anything else even close!
Send me the coordinates! So help me, Kerensky, if your wrong
about this, Sanchez, Ill kill you myself if the landing doesnt wipe us all
out first!
Deploying flaps and gear! Buckle up, its gonna be one helluva
bumpy ride! She sent Shadowfax arcing west towards the
roadway. Colonel! Transmitting the LZ coordinates now. Dont blame
me if theres just a smoking crater when you get there. You promised me
those turrets would be down!
The Colonels cool voice came back at her over the com. Settle
down, Captain Salt. The boys and I need to catch ride with you back off
this planet. Im sure you wont disappoint us. Coordinates
received. Good luck and try not to damage my equipment. Your
paycheck wont even come close to covering it. Over.
The epithets spewing from Captain Salts mouth made even the
grizzled veterans on the bridge blush.
Salt continued muscling the control stick, forcing Shadowfax to
straighten out above a roadway she could barely even see. Landing
thrusters full! Gear engaged! Damage control teams standby! Brace for
impact!
What the hell is this, Sanchez, a freakin logging road!?
The 1,700 ton spacecraft hit the ground with a bone jarring impact,
the screeching of metal was audible even on the bridge. Red warning
indicators flared to life as the crew felt the tail swing out of line.
Captain Salt had a death grip on the armrests of her command
couch as Shadowfax finally ground to a halt. Damage control
teams! Report! she screamed the second the craft stopped moving.
Spanners gravelly voice came over the com instantly. Starboard
thrusters damaged but the V84 seems OK. Port weapons bay offline. Port
Mech bay door damaged. Landing gear is pretty well trashed. Avionics
OK. Other than that, shes like brand new. Next time, let me handing the
landing! Im getting to old for all this extra work!
Salt turned to Captain McMillian. Unload those whirly birds and
get them in air! Were a sitting duck out here! Weve got no defenses on
the port side! Assign any spare men you have to the damage control
teams! Shes gonna need a bit love to before we can get her back in the
air again.
She hit the release on her four point harness and raced off to assist
the Damage Control Teams.

Chapter 11
Carbonis
Free Worlds League
3042

Leutnant Jeff Hamilton swung his Shadow Hawk around, heading

southwest to link up with Weddles Griffin as the Colonel and Corporal
Southers headed towards the main IMB assembly plant.
Hey, Weddle, you care what we scrap first? I was thinking about
taking out that lead Cicada and then dropping the Wasp.
Weddle chuckled as Hamilton pulled up next to him. Take care
of the trash first, huh? No problem. Ill drop my Delta Dart on that
Cicada and if theres anything left you can clean it up. Follow me into
those trees over there, and well say hello.
The two 69th Expeditionary Force Mechs headed off together,
disappearing into a small grove of trees on the periphery of the factory site
moments later.
Weddle watched as the lance of Marik Mechs swiftly
approached. The Cicada was a good 150 meters ahead of his comrades.
The Phoenix Hawk and Wasp held the center while the Quickdraw brought
up the rear.
As the Cicada crossed 600m, fifteen long range missiles erupted
from the forest, spiraling down towards the 40-ton Mech. Nine of them
exploded against its bulk as the pilot began evasive maneuvers, seeking
cover of its own. With only short range weaponry, there was nothing it
could do until it closed to within at least a quarter kilometer.
And close it did. With a top speed of 130 kph, it relied primarily
on its speed for protection as it dodged around the scattered trees, working
its way ever closer. As it made it within 450m, Weddle and Hamilton
both opened up on it with their heavy lasers. Weddles flew wide, thrown
off by the Cicadas erratic movements, but Hamiltons stripped the armor
from its right leg, hitting the structure but unfortunately none of the
actuators.
In the darkness, Hamilton saw what could only be the missiles
from the Quickdraws LRM-10 lift off, followed by the Phoenix Hawks
Harmon heavy laser. Missiles exploded all around the trees they were
both concealed in, missing them both, but the Harmon melted a half of ton
of armor off his center.
Change of plans, Weddle! Im taking down that Phoenix
Hawk! You clean up the trash!
Hamiltons Hawk surged out of the woods, breaking into a loping
run as he rushed the Marik lance. Weddle stayed back in the trees,
targeting the Cicada once again. Hes all yours, Hamilton! Another
flight of fifteen LRMs followed by his Sunglow slammed into the nimble
40-ton Cicada. The Sunglow burned entirely through its left arm,
destroying everything in it as the LRMs clustered on the right side, further
shredding its leg. It skipped a step as one the missiles destroyed it lower
leg actuator but the pilot recovered quickly.
Damn! That little bastard just didnt want to go down!
As Hamilton broke from his cover, he let off an alpha-strike at the
Phoenix Hawk, aiming his weapons low as he targeted its legs. Armor
melted like butter off both the Phoenix Hawks legs as all four SRMs
struck along its top half. But hed lacked the raw firepower of the
Colonels assault Mech and the Hawk came through his barrage still
fully functional.
Then all four Marik Mechs were all over him. The Phoenix Hawk
drilled his left leg with both its heavy and medium lasers, the third
missing. The Cicada also aimed low, stripping even more armor off his
legs with its matched medium Magnas and the Wasp contributed its Bical
twin rack. One of the Quickdraws Omicrons scorched his right arm as
the other missed high, while three of the Hovertec Quads missiles
exploded against his chest.
Another round like that, and his left leg would be severely
damaged if not destroyed entirely!
He fired his Pitban LFT-50s, sending his Mech sailing backwards
into the trees. One of the changes hed made to the stock -2H version was
giving it a full 150m jump capacity. Something he was thanking himself
for right now as he landed back in the heavy cover.
Weddle kept his reticle centered on the Cicada as it juked back and
forth. His Sunglow drilled it dead center, evaporating the remaining
armor and sending coolant pouring out of its chest as he damaged the
housing of the fusion engine. One of his medium lasers hit the exposed
right leg, destroying it as the other savaged its left torso destroying one of
its two medium lasers.
It managed to get off one last strike at Hamiltons Shadow Hawk as
it furrowed into the ground, ripping off its stubby right arm in the
process. Only one of its three lasers managed to hit Hamiltons airborne
Griffin, however, but it was against the Hawks left leg, the last remaining
armor disappearing in a cloud of vapor as the laser burrowed into the
structure.
Hamilton snapped off another full salvo at the Phoenix Hawk as it
followed him into the woods. The temperature spiked in his cockpit as his
fifteen single heat sinks failed to dissipate the combination of weapon fire
and jump jets. His heavy laser evaporated armor from the right torso as the
matched mediums both pierced the other side. Two of his SRMs
exploded, one against its head, the other another hit to the chest but once
again hed failed to stop the Phoenix Hawk. Thankfully, his jump has
thrown off the Phoenix Hawks aim, as only its Harmon heavy hit him this
time, the armor of his left torso absorbing the shot.
Ten LRMs from the Marik Quickdraw corkscrewed into the
woods, eight of them exploding against Weddles Griffin, five against his
chest, the other three on his untouched left leg. It tried to follow up with
its dual Omicrons but the long range caused both shots to land short. A
pair of SRMs from its Hovertec Quad managed to hit, however, one of
them sending the last of his left torso armor smoking to the ground, as the
other hit his right leg.
Then the Wasp appeared on long jets of flame, sailing over both of
their heads and landing immediately behind and to the left of Hamiltons
injured Shadow Hawk. Both of its weapons missed, but that wasnt its
plan in any case. The 20-ton Mech viciously kicked the Shadow Hawks
exposed left leg, blue sparks flying from the now severely damaged limb
as at least one of the actuators failed.
Hamiltons voice broke over the command net. Severe damage to
my left leg. One more solid hit and its gone! Im pulling back.
The Hawk rocketed backwards yet again trying to open the
distance back up as the Colonels voice came over the com. Hamilton,
pull back towards the warehouse so the infantry can support you. Dawg,
get your men ready! Southers, get back there and cover Hamilton! I can
take this factory solo.
Weddle held his ground, hoping the remaining Marik Mechs
would choose to engage him but both the Phoenix Hawk and the Wasp
rocketed on past him, leaving only the Quickdraw in his forward firing
arc. Screw it, he said to himself, as he whipped his Mech into an
abrupt about face, exposing his thin rear armor to the Quickdraw.
He drew a bead on the Wasp. His Sunglow nailed it in the right
arm, obliterating the limb with a single shot. The Delta Dart flew true as
well, clustering against its right rear torso, destroying another entire
section of the light Mech. But it still wasnt enough to bring it down. It
had lost half of its weapons but it still remained a threat. He fired both of
mediums as well, but the range was now too great and both shots flew
harmlessly wide.
Now the Quickdraw was on him but luck was still with him. Only
one of its Omicrons hit his vulnerable rear, eliminating all of the armor on
his right rear but the armor had done its job and just barely prevented the
laser from breaching. Then his Mech suddenly lurched forward as the
60-ton Marik Mech kicked his left leg from behind, buckling armor plates
and sending him stumbling. A quick glance at the wire diagram gave him
the grim news. Right arm, left torso and left leg, all in the red.
---
The ground trembled as the Colonel brought his Battlemaster into
a full run. He unleashed the stunning power of the assault Mech,
concentrating it on a small section of the factory wall. As chunks
exploded from the hardened structure, he lowered his left shoulder and
rammed the wall with a feral intensity at full speed. The entire wall
buckled inwards, the ragged edges ripping away sections of his armor
even as he bulled his way into the interior of the factory.
Sigil was screaming from the back again. Fusion engine power
up detected! There are Mechs in here! He feverishly examined the low
light imagers of the Hartford XKZ 1. By the Usurper! he
swore. Thats a freakin 85-ton LGB-OW Longbow! Hermes, Flea and
Thunderbolt too! He stabbed up the magnification.
Kerensky! Without thinking, he punched the control
override. The Battlemaster stuttered as Sigil suddenly took over control of
the Mech. Still at a dead run, he sent all six medium lasers and the SRM
rack at the still stationary Longbow. With both arms outstretched in front
of him, he gave the enemy assault Mech a ferocious shove, sending it
toppling over. The behemoth crashed into the 20-ton Flea parked next to
it and both Mechs went down hard in a tangled heap.
The Colonel roared like a wounded lion, his voice vibrating the
entire cockpit of the Battlemaster with its savage
intensity. SIGIL! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU
DOING!? IF YOU DONT RETURN CONTROL OF THIS MECH TO
ME THIS GODDAMN INSTANT IM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS
SO HARD YOULL HAVE TO UNBUTTON YOUR COLLAR TO
TAKE A SHIT!
Then the Thunderbolt turned, targeting them.

Chapter 12
Carbonis
Free Worlds League
3042

Hamilton grimaced. It was going to take a miracle to save his ride

now. He landed a good 150m away as he jumped backwards towards the
burning warehouse and Dawgs jump infantry. But both the Wasp and the
Phoenix Hawk had him beat, not only on speed but also on jump
capacity. It was race he knew hed lose even before he started.
As he landed, he tried to shield his savaged left leg, but the Marik
Mechs had him bracketed on either side. Their plan was simple. One or
the other was going to put an armored foot into his left leg. It was what he
would have done too. It was possible he could survive a kick from the
Wasp but there no way it would hold against the 45-ton Phoenix Hawk.
He drew a bead on the Hawk as it maneuvered in for the kill. If
only he could drop it before it managed to get itself into position on his
left side. He braced himself for the heat. He was already running hot and
the combination of his jump jets and the coming alpha strike would cripple
him but he had no other choice. His trio of lasers struck true. The heavy
laser dissolved the remaining armor on the Phoenix Hawks left arm as
one of his mediums tore into the structure underneath. Sparks flew from
the shoulder as the arm sagged suddenly down, the limb effectively
destroyed. His Hovertec spiraled past harmlessly.
The shutdown warning started screaming as he slammed the
override, forcing the Mech to stay functional even as the heat spiked well
past safe levels. As the Phoenix Hawk shot past him, it drilled his Shadow
Hawk straight in the chest with both its heavy and medium laser, sending
armor streaming down, leaving only a scant quarter ton protecting his
delicate gyro and CoreTek 275 fusion engine. The damaged Wasp
managed to hit him with one of its SRMs but he chose to ignore the light
Mech.
In a last ditch attempt to stop the Phoenix Hawk, he struck out with
his left arm, punching it. The armor plates protecting its right arm buckled
but held.
He had failed to stop it.
It returned his blow with a well-executed kick against his left
leg. With a horrible rending of metal, his leg collapsed, sending his
Hawk crashing to the ground where the Wasp gleefully kicked him again.
He was preparing for the inevitable as he rolled the Hawk over to
face his fate when the Phoenix Hawks right arm was suddenly ripped off
by a huge autocannon slug. The Marik Mech jerked its head back up as
its main weapon was destroyed looking for the source. Corporal Southers
Hatchetman had managed to get within range with its Defiance
Disintegrator. Off to his right, the Wasp was abruptly covered in missile
explosions as Dawgs jump infantry fired on it, causing it too to shift its
attention away from his downed Shadow Hawk.
Lt. Weddle raced towards his fallen comrade, the Quickdraw in hot
pursuit. He whipped around at the last second, bringing his weapons to
bear on the pursuing Marik BattleMech. His Sunglow hit center mass but
the 60-ton Mechs heavy armor easily weathered the damage. The
Quickdraws right arm and left torso absorbed his matched medium lasers
with little difficulty as well.
However, the same couldnt be said for his Griffin as a pair of the
Quickdraws Omicrons decimated his right arm, destroying it along with
the Sunglow heavy laser carried there. A pair of SRMs from the its
Hovertec detonated against his right leg, leaving it almost bare as a third
exploded against his chest.
 Both the Phoenix Hawk and Wasp leapt back and away, lighting
the night with streaks of flames as they moved to let the Quickdraw take
point on the attack. Weddle positioned himself in front of Hamiltons
downed Shadow Hawk preparing to trade another volley with the
Quickdraw as Southers slow Hatchetman continued struggling to close
the range.
Weddle sent his two mediums lasers against the 60-ton Mech,
failing once more to do any significant damage. Usurper! Since when had
the Quickdraw been considered such a tough kill! Another round of
SRMs flew from the shoulders of Dawgs infantry, also targeting the
sturdy Mech. Missiles exploded up and down its left side and chest,
leaving the armor dangerously thin but again failing to score any critical
damage. Weddle triggered his Delta Dart next, this time targeting the
backpedaling Phoenix Hawk, sending LRMs arcing down towards it. All
fifteen missiles exploded across the front of it but somehow they all failed
to breach anything.
The Quickdraw responded. One of its Omicrons cored into his
right leg sending alarm klaxons blaring through the cockpit. His Mech
staggered as its lower leg actuator went offline. The alarms keep coming
as the second Omicron burned through his left torso, damaging the
structure, but thankfully missing the ammunition storage bins that feed his
Delta Dart. Only one of its four SRMs hit, destroying what little armor
remained covering his other leg. The Wasp continued to fire its Bical twin
rack, one them hitting his center torso. The alarms continued unabted as
the Phoenix Hawks sole remaining Harmon laser ate away at his now
unprotected left leg.

Both of his legs were internal!

Lt. Hamilton came over the comlink. Hey, Weddle, stop playing
to the hero, dammit, or youre gonna end up crippled like my Hawk! Fall
the hell back and let the Corporal take the heat!
Reluctantly, Weddle leapt back again, leaving Hamiltons disabled
Shadow Hawk wide open to enemy attack but thankfully Corporal
Southers was there to charge into the breech. Chambering a cluster round
for his Defiance Disintegrator, there was a thunderous roar as he leveled it
at the Marik Quickdraw. Cluster munitions exploded all across the
Quickdraw, shredding almost all of its remaining armor. Its right arm
dropped to the ground as the explosions destroyed its already heavily
damaged right torso. One of his B3M mediums drilled into its left torso as
the other flew high.
Then he buried the trademark hatchet into the Quickdraws chest,
cleaving deeply into the structure. The Quickdraw reeled back from the
furious assault, most of its weapon systems now destroyed or without
ammunition. Now it was the Quickdraws turn to start backpedaling. It
fired its sole remaining Omicron at the Hatchetman, hitting the hatchet-
bearing right arm but Southers still had enough armor left to absorb the
attack. The final shot with its LRM-10 arced over the Hatchetman,
exploding harmlessly near Weddles Griffin. The Phoenix Hawk added its
remaining Harmon, melting armor from the Hatchetmans other arm and
penetrating into the structure but failing to damage anything of importance
as the Wasps Bical twin-rack flew wide.
Southers pulled up in front of Hamilton as the three damaged
Marik Mechs began to retreat. Weddle fired his Delta Dart one last time
at the retreating Quickdraw. Nine of his missiles slammed along its left
side, two hitting its shoulder and turning its remaining arm into smoking
wreckage. Then another deadly shotgun blast sounded from the
Hatchetman. This time the effect was devastating. Practically stripped of
armor, the cluster rounds exploded time and again directly against the
sensitive internal structure of the Mech. As the smoke cleared, the
Quickdraw toppled stiffly to the ground, its gyro destroyed. The two
remaining Marik Mechs fled into the surrounding forest.
Weddles voice broke over the communication net. Let em
go. Theyre finished. Southers, help me drag Hamiltons Shadow Hawk
over towards the factory. Oh, and nice shot by the way.
---
The Hartford Co XKZ 1s missile lock indicator sounded a fraction
of a second before the Battlemaster was rocked by a full broadside from
the charging Marik Thunderbolt. Its Sunglow large laser hit the heavily
armored left leg, as its trio of Diverse Optics Type 18s scored a hit on the
left arm and chiseled a path across the big Mechs chest. Both SRMs
from its Bical hit as well, the missiles exploding against the right arm and
center torso. Matched Voelkers machine guns chattered away, echoing off
the cavernous walls of the factory interior as they continued to chip away
armor.
Sigil still had the control override engaged as the Battlemaster
shuddered under the assault. His eyes were drawn to the XKZ 1 as
another target abruptly appeared on the sensor display immediately behind
the charging Thunderbolt.
By Kerensky! A -1S Hermes! Thats a vintage Star League
Mech! The fastest Mech ever built! It uses the Alexis Photon Target
Acquisition System! Ive only read about it! Ive never had a chance to
see one before!
 The Colonels Battlemaster veered swiftly to the right and
accelerated as Sigil sought to bring the fast 30-ton scout Mech into his
line of sight.
The Colonels rage was palpable. SIGIL! I SWEAR TO
KERENSKY IM GOING TO RELEASE MY HARNESS AND PUT MY
FIST STRAIGHT THROUGH THE FRONT OF YOUR FREAKIN
NEUROHELMET IF YOU DONT RELINQUISH CONTROL OF THIS
MECH IMMEDIATELY, SOLDIER!
Im just going to disable it, Colonel! I just need one shot! I cant
let it get away!
The Battlemaster was rocked again as the Thunderbolt continued
to pour fire onto the assault Mech. The Sunglow evaporated another half-
ton of armor from the left leg as a pair of mediums sent armor pouring
down the right torso, the third searing the right arm. The Voelkers and
one of the SRMs damaged the arms but the sudden change of direction
caused the 'Bolt's kick to miss. The Marik pilot quickly recovered and
turned, continuing to target the huge war machine.
Sigil fired the Donal first, the azure bolt streaking straight towards
the Hermes chest, completely eviscerating the armor and burning its way
into the supporting structure underneath. The Holly 6 rack was
next. Three missiles exploded on either side of the hole in its chest but the
missiles failed to penetrate its thin armor.
Damn it! Sigil winced. He didnt actually want to destroy
it. Gritting his teeth, he sent the full sextet of Martell mediums at the fleet
Mech. The left arm simply disappeared under the concentrated laser fire
as the entire top half of the Mech was stripped clean of armor and the
central structure of the Mech was damaged even further. Still it held
together.
By the Usurper! Its getting away! he screamed.
Unexpectedly, a frothing, raging beast appeared blocking his view
of the Hermes, followed by a clenched fist speeding unerringly towards
his face. The Colonels fist connected directly between his eyes. Sigils
head snapped back violently as the Colonel brutally vented his pent up
rage on him, knocking him unconscious with single vicious blow.
With no one left piloting the Battlemaster, it swayed unsteadily on
its feet and then fell crashing to the ferrocrete floor as the Colonel braced
himself as best he could for the impact.
---
Captain Salt was directing the damage control team swarming over
Shawdowfaxs left wing. Sanchez, double check each strut! Fernal, go
over the leading edge! Make damn sure there arent ANY holes in the
heat shielding. Danny, check the control surfaces! Everyone else, get
down there on those landing rails!
She activated the comlink in her earpiece. Spanner! Whats the
word on the port thrusters?
Spanner's gruff voice responded. The control circuitry is all
fried! I can jury-rig it, turn it on or off, but thats about it. Its all or
nothing! I know how you like it rough, but, really, you gotta' learn some
control!
Salt fired back. Just tell me, can I get her back off the ground!?
Spanner grumbled, Not if youre gonna be as ham handed as you
were bringin her down, darlin!
Captain Salt grit her teeth. Her landing hadnt been exactly
stellar. Truthfully, shed done a poor job of bringing the wounded
DropShip down. She could admit that to herself and in any case, Spanner
already knew.
She jumped to the ground, hearing the hydraulic hiss of aft craft
bay door opening. Captain McMillian would be unloading the Ripper and
Nightshade VTOLs. She walked along the port side examining the
landing rails as she went. Yeah, shed tore up Shadowfax pretty
good. Shed have to nail the takeoff otherwise the ship would start canting
almost immediately and without the ability to control the output of the port
thrusters, it might prove impossible to recover.
She continued silently berating herself.
---
The Thunderbolt wasted no time in planting a brutal kick to the
Colonels prone Battlemaster. Luckily, the undamaged right leg of the
assault Mech was able to absorb the blow without serious damage.
Colonel Jason Henley threw himself back into his command couch,
pulling his neurohelmet back down as his Mech quaked under the
physical attack. The Thunderbolt unleashed another full volley of fire. A
half-ton of armor from his chest was melted away by the Sunglow as the
Type 18s etched his right arm and left leg, followed by the twin Voelkers
machine guns. Then one of the SRMs from the Bical exploded directly
against his head, sending him once again crashing cruelly around the
confines of the cockpit.
His vision blurred, then dimmed, as he began to slip into
unconsciousness. Slapping the stimpack hugging his thigh, he sent a flood
of synthetic adrenaline through his system. Alarm klaxons sounded in the
cockpit, forcing him back to attention as the Thunderbolt put its foot
through the right torso of his be leagued Battlemaster, breaching the
armor.
 Disengaging the Donal PPC held in his Mechs hand, he reached
out with both massive hand actuators, grabbing the Thunderbolts ankle as
it withdrew from its kick. He could hear the myomer and the hydraulics
groaning under the strain as he pulled hard on the Bolts foot. The Marik
pilot struggled valiantly to shake his hold but the assault Mechs grip was
too tight. Slowly at first it began to topple backwards, then the pilot lost
control completely and the 65-ton Mech fell with a massive crash to the
ferrocrete floor, its left arm taking the brunt of the fall.
Was he hearing voices?
He shook his head, still vaguely disoriented by the fall and the
missile strike. He levered his 85-ton machine up on its arms and knees,
then clambered crab-like atop the fallen Thunderbolt. He slugged it with
both battlefists. The first punching its chest with the force of a particle
cannon and the second clanging of its offset, recessed head, leaving it
dangerously exposed.
At point-blank, both Mechs vented their tremendous firepower
against each other. The T-Bolts heavy laser drilled into his left torso as
the mediums struck his chest and left arm. But the third hit his already
damaged head, the armor just managing to prevent a catastrophic
breach. The Voelkers chattered away, pock marking his left arm, then the
cockpit with filled a horrific rattling as a stream of slugs found its way
across his viewport. The canopy cracked and spidered as a pair of SRMs
exploded neaby. Everything seemed far away and distant as he triggered
his own alpha strike. Six Martells and his Holly six rack gored into the
Thunderbolt trapped beneath his assault Mech.
The Colonel never saw what happened next. When the smoke
cleared, the Battlemaster was hunched over top the now headless
Thunderbolt.
Weddle was screaming into the comlink. In fact, hed already
been screaming for the past twenty
seconds. Colonel! Sigil! Colonel! Sigil! Someone respond
goddammit! Anyone!
After what seemed an eternity, a groggy voice finally
answered. Huh? Whaa. Stop screaming, would ya? Sigil shook his
head. His neurohelmet was cracked and he was hanging awkwardly from
his five-point harness looking at the Colonels slumped form in front of
him. Blood was still pouring from his nose and his entire chest was slick
with it. The cockpit was in shambles as he finally became aware of the
alarms. Life support and the sensors had both been damaged. The head
and the right torso were breached. And the Colonel, well, he didnt look
so good.
 I uhh need medical. I mean, the Colonel. He he looks in a
bad way. Unconscious, I mean. Uh where are we? He tried to collect
his scattered thoughts but they blew away like leaves on a windy autumn
day. Then he started looking around frantically. Kerensky! Did anyone
see that -1S Hermes!? I swear it was here a second ago Did I dream
that? He paused trying to think again.
Oh, and ya, I almost forget. Hey Hamilton, I scored you a new
ride. Theres an LGB-OW Longbow in here with your name on it!
Weddles anxious voice interrupted. What the hell are you
talking about, Sigil!?
You know, an 85-ton assault Mech? Dual Holly LRM-20s,
matched Delta Dart 5s and a pair of medium lasers. I think StarCorp
Industries made it for the SLDF back in the day. Too slow for my taste,
though.
Weddle barked over the comlink. The COLONEL! CHECK
THE COLONEL YOU IDIOT!
The damaged canopy suddenly hissed and popped open as a new
voice entered the conversation. Private Sigil, get out of my Mech. And
never, EVER, come back.
Oh uh nevermind. I I think the Colonels Ok. Uhh...
guys? Can Can I catch a ride home with one of you? Sigil released his
harness.

Chapter 13
Carbonis
3042
Free Worlds League

It felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to his head, the

pounding was that intense. Colonel Jason Henley flipped the comlink
on. All units return to the LZ. Captain McMillian, retrieve the
infantry. Captain Salt, I want Shadowfax ready to launch when we
arrive. He levered his battered Battlemaster back to its feet, retrieving
his PPC as he did so. The image enhancers were cutting off and on and
the satellite link had gone offline.
He knew the Ninth was preparing to dispatch additional forces if
they hadnt done so already. Sigil had reported multiple electromagnetic
and thermal sources a dozen or so klicks out. It was definitely time to get
the hell out of here.
 Weddle voice crackled over his speakers. Colonel, what do you
want us to do about Hamiltons Shadow Hawk? One of its legs is
destroyed. Theres also a salvageable Quickdraw and that Thunderbolt
you took out.
Then, a familiar voice interrupted them. Uh guys? I just
cracked the security on the Longbow. Its only got light damage. Its
slow, but I bet it could beat Hamiltons one-legged Mech in a race any
day. Its pretty nice. You know its got an Octagon Tartrac C, exact same
targeting system thats in your Griffin, Weddle?
The Colonel rolled his eyes. What he wouldnt give for a moments
peace right about now. He was tempted to squelch Sigil, or maybe even
just squash him. He managed to get him out of his cockpit but somehow
he still couldnt escape his voice.
Have Hamilton pilot the Longbow. Well take that and call it
even. Leave the salvage. Its time to go.
He piloted his Mech back out through the hole in the side of the
factory hed created earlier. Hamiltons Shadow Hawk was sitting down,
leaning against the wall like a wounded solider waiting for the medics to
arrive. Weddles Griffin and Southers Hatchetman stood like sentinels
on either side. The damage on them both was obvious. He frowned.
Moments later, the 85-ton Longbow emerged from the damaged
factory. Lets move. Lt. Hamilton, once youre in optimal range, bring
down the factory roof. Target the eastern side. Its already damaged from
the strafing run. Six salvos max.
The four battered 69th Mechs moved out, pausing briefly as
Hamilton turned to rain down fire on the factory. The 85-ton assault
Mech shuttered as it launched awe-inspiring salvos of fifty LRMs one
after another. The roof of the factory was obscured by the non-stop deluge
of missiles, but as the smoke cleared it was obvious the roof had collapsed
under the onslaught of 300 missiles.
McMillian here. Play time is over boys. Pop the smoke. Its
time to go home.
A pair of armored VTOLs landed, silhouetted by the burning
wreckage of the IMB industrial facility. The Colonel watched as the
infantry sprinted towards the two craft, their rotors still spinning,
disappearing into the belly of the beasts. Then they levitated up and
disappeared back into the night sky as quickly as they came.
---
Prepare for takeoff! Secure all personnel and equipment! Its
going be one helluva bumpy ride. Captain Salt was back in the pilots
chair. What field repairs that could be hastily accomplished had been
done. The port weapons bays and one of the Mech bay doors were still
inoperable. The landing rails had been patched as best they could but it
was the port thrusters that consumed her mind.
Spanner, standby on those port thrusters! On my mark, take them
full.
She took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. The Colonel looked
like hell warmed over but hed insisted on being on the bridge for the
takeoff. He should have been in medical, if he had any sense. Still, at
least he was silent but she could feel his eyes boring into her, assessing
her, even if she couldnt see them.
Take port thrusters full in 3 2 1 She threw the throttle
wide open on the V84, giving Shadowfax everything there was in one
sudden absolute shot, gambling to get off the ground as quickly as
possible.
The huge spacecraft trembled under the stress as it rumbling
forward, seeking flight. She was pulling back so hard on the control stick,
for a moment she was afraid shed bent it. Tentatively, Shadowfax lifted
off the ground.
Spanner! I need more thrust!
By Amaris himself! Youve already got it pegged,
darlin! Whatd you want me to do, get out and push!?
Shadowfax continued to slowly rise but she kept wanting to pull to
the left. Salt found herself cheating the stick further and further to the
right to compensate.
Dammit, Spanner! What the hell is going on with the port
thrusters!? Shes pulling hard to the left! Port flaps full! I need more
freakin thrust!
There isnt any more blessed thrust! Cut back on the starboard
ones if you gotta! I got both my hands full trying to keep the port thruster
from cutting out completely!
The flaps were helping level the ponderous craft out but the drag
they created was preventing her from gaining the speed she wanted, not to
mention turbulence they added. Ironically, the blowing winds from the
storm aided her once again, providing a generous headwind and aiding the
crafts lift.
Spanner, Im kicking on the auxiliary emergency engines! Keep
on that thruster! I dont care how you do it, just get more out of it!
The entire craft was vibrating and shaking. This was the
moment. Either shed stall and auger in and it was game over or Spanner
would somehow find a way to give her the little bit of extra speed she so
desperately needed.
 Spanner knew the situation was critical, quickly approaching
terminal. It was a you-can-do-this-but-you-never-should moment. He
raced over to the engineering console for the V84 interplanetary
drive. Punching up the containment field status, he starting siphoning
energy away from its power feed. The effect was two-fold. Weakening
the containment field allowed the fusion reaction to grow stronger by both
increasing the size of the plasma ring as well as the amount of plasma
itself. The danger, of course, is that he would be unable to reestablish the
containment ring and it would fail entirely, the result of which would be
catastrophic.
There was also the matter of the additional pressure and strain on
all the systems downstream of the engine. They would all be operating
outside of their design tolerances and any single failure could potentially
fatally cripple the entire ship. The number of things that could go wrong
was only outnumbered by the ways in which they could all die.
Varruka, here ya go, sweety! Careful what you ask for and all
that! He increased the siphon. Red warning lights and alarms began to
fill the engine room. Engine output crested past 105%. He threw the
override as the output climbed to 110%.
Bless that foul mouthed obnoxious dwarf! Its almost enough to
make me want to kiss him Captain Salt muttered to
herself. Shadowfax straightened out and began picking up both speed and
altitude. Retracting port flaps. The ride only became marginally
smoother but she was at least starting to act like an aircraft now.
Spanner broke into her brief personal celebration. Sorry, baby,
thats all you get! And dont come asking for anymore!
In the engine room, Spanner was swiftly trying to bring the
magnetic confinement ring back down to a safe size. The entire ship went
dark as he rerouted power from life support, weapons, and all other non-
essential systems to the ring feed.
Slowly the output dropped 107%... 105%... 103%... 100%. He
mopped his brow with a rag from his back pocket.
He was getting to old for this shit.
---

Epilogue
In transit to Galatea
3042
The Colonel had just returned to Shadowfax after meeting with the
LCAF liaison officer aboard the Lyran JumpShip. The liaison officer had
congratulated him on his units performance and had told him straight out
that he was going to recommend the 69th be awarded the full 5,000,000 C-
bill bonus. The battle holovids had been proof enough that warehouse,
power generators, and the factory itself had all sustained heavy damage. It
would likely be a year at the earliest before IMB systems could again
produce anything at the factory site.
Looks like there was going to be shortage of targeting and
tracking systems in the Free Worlds League, Henley chuckled to
himself.
He was taking advantage of the transit time back to Galatea to
complete his personnel evaluations. Captain Salt had proved herself more
than up to the job. Shed conducted a successful combat drop followed by
a strafing run against the factory. The four flights of LRMs that struck
Shadowfaxs port wing had dispelled any lingering doubts hed had about
either her piloting or the crews ability to affect field repairs and get the
DropShip back into the air and off planet. And her engineer certainly had
the Midas touch with the drive system. He suspected it had been a bit
more touch and go then she had let on.
Dawgs anti-Mech jump infantry had stepped up as well. Theyd
blown the warehouse, finished off the Marik Urbanmech and then turned
around and engaged the Wasp as well. There were losses of course, there
always were among the ground pounders. Still, a 20% mortality rate was
actually pretty good for infantry.

He frowned. Mortality rate. Another military euphuism for people whod

never see their families again or their sons or their daughters. For lives
gone, and others shattered. Of course, hed do what he could to ease their
pain but in the end it could never be enough.
The senselessness of war. He allowed himself a few moments to
consider it, to face its stark reality. There had been others killed as
well. Factory workers, security guards, likely, they all werent
combatants. Collateral damage. The military was filled with nice phrases
to describe the atrocities committed in the name of war.
Civilized warfare. Embodied by the Ares Conventions of
2412. What had they really accomplished but to formalize the conduct of
war? Perhaps even encourage it. He shook his head. Down that path lies
madness. He forced himself back to the task at hand.
Captain McMillian. He still knew next to nothing about the
grizzled mans past. Except that hed received extensive special
operations training and was one helluva a VTOL pilot. His squad had
assisted the damage control team in field repairing Shadowfax and had
also handled the extraction of Dawgs infantry from the battlefield with
their VTOL. A solid performance.
Leutnant Hamilton had once again proved to be a rock of
reliability. Hed stayed on target even as the Quickdraw had broadsided
him, never wavering from the power generators even as he took heavy
fire. Followed orders, no questions asked. He couldnt ask for anything
more from a solider under his command. The loss of his Shadow Hawk
had been unfortunate but ultimately between the capture of the enemy
Longbow and the bonus for destroying the factory, the mission had been a
solid financial success. The Leutnant would be getting a new ride and the
Colonel was inclined to be generous with his options.
Corporal Southers had been blooded. A fresh recruit out of the
prestigious Sanglamore Academy, his own alma-mater, Southers hadnt
yet seen the beast. But he had now. You never know how a man is going
to handle the stress of life and death combat until they face it down on a
live battlefield. All the training, drills, simulations, they can only prepare
a man so much. But the Corporal had found what he had needed to within
himself. He could already see how the experience had changed the young
man. He carried himself with a bit more confidence and a little less
naivety.
Leutnant Weddle had bought Southers the time, though. The
Corporal had faltered right at the start of the engagement. The immediate
and intense stress of combat had momentarily stunned him. Weddle had
taken the heat off him, giving him the precious seconds he needed to allow
the training to kick in. Then there was the loss of the Shadow Hawks
leg. Weddle had placed himself directly in front of Hamiltons downed
Mech, shielding him from enemy fire with his own damaged
Griffin. Twice Leutnant Weddle had shown the highest regard for the
lives of the men he served alongside. The Colonel nodded
approvingly. He had the potential to become an excellent Executive
Officer. He made special note of that in the Leutnants personnel file.
That finally brought him to the evaluation hed been doing his best
to avoid. Sigil. Anger briefly flared to life once again within him as he
recalled how Sigil had taken over command of his Battlemaster and then
refused a direct order to relinquish it. He had already busted him down to
Private, stripped him of the designation as the units Electronic Warfare
Specialist and placed him on disciplinary probation. Not to mention
punching him in the face. The Colonel grimaced. Insubordination of the
highest order. If they had still been in the Third Lyran, Sigil would have
undoubtedly been court-martialed and dishonorably discharged in short
order.
He played back the battle ROM from his Battlemaster. Battle was
a funny thing. The actual engagement had lasted what, five minutes? Yet
it always felt like an eternity. And it always gave him a strange sense of
detachment to watch himself. Like it wasnt actually him. More like a
movie, or a dream perhaps. He watched as his Battlemaster ripped
through the wall of the factory and into the interior. There was the Marik
Thunderbolt turning angrily to face them and there was the Longbow still
in its bay, the Flea next to it.
Son of a bitch the Colonel muttered pausing the playback as
he zoomed in. He scrutinized the screen for a long moment, shaking his
head. There it was. Hed totally failed to notice it at the time, but Sigil
hadnt. There was a Marik MechWarrior clambering up the Longbow,
seconds away from climbing into the cockpit of the assault Mech and
bringing the awesome machine to life.
The Colonel whistled. If that Longbow had come online, he would
have been sandwiched between it and the Thunderbolt. Not good odds.
Sigils quick reflexes had taken the 85-ton assault Mech out of the
picture, not to mention the Flea, with a single salvo. It was almost enough
to forgive him for taking potshots at that ridiculous Hermes. The Colonel
reached into the nearby humidor, taking out a cigar. Mechanically he cut
off the tip, lighting it, puffing as he let his mind wander. Smoke rings
drifted lazily through the permanently stale air of the DropShip.
Looks like he was going to authorize the repair of Sigils Clint
after all.
---