BoTH Chpt 68

Blood on the Horizon
- Chapter 68 -

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Storm in the Void

Date: March 25th, 3007
Location: Tybalt, Capellan Confederation

Two Jumpships appeared in the void, dropships detached and began burning for Tybalt, their massive fusion engines pushing them from the pirate point and in the direction of the world below.

"This is Blaze, split off into your pairs and make sure our dropper choppers are escorted," Captain Aidan Gray ordered. "Ideally we want to hit the dropships as they begin reentry, but we all know that it'll come down to luck on that one."

The squadron shifted into formation and a few short minutes later, the battle began.

Eagle Heavy Fighter

Blaze slammed his feet down on the pedals below, the Eagle lurched and he felt the push back into his chair as Edge stayed on his wing.

"Edge, watch out for that pair of Gothas," Blaze gently squeezed the triggers on his sticks, twin PPC bolts arcing out through the void and slagging armor on one of the medium aerospace fighters that was boosting to face them.

"Copy, lead," Edge replied, her large lasers invisible melting more armor away on the fighter that Blaze had already taken shots at. "I've got your back."

"Keep on pushing for the dropships," Swordsman zoomed by at a faster pace, his wingman keeping pace as their Lightning's autocannon and lasers shattered the Gothas with concentrated fire. "We'll keep these bastards busy."

Then the furball was upon them and Blaze was too busy keeping an enemy dogfighter off of his tail to be worried about anything other than his wingman.

Pitching into a roll, he watched as LRMs streaked by, followed by a burst of autocannon fire.

"Edge, stay on my wing."

Bracing himself, Blaze slammed his feet on his pedals and then hit his maneuvering thrusters, the G forces nearly sending him unconscious as he flipped around to face the enemy dogfighter.

Gasping for air, Blaze watched as the reticle on his weapons finally lit up green with a target lock. His breath sounded loud in his ears, but the enemy fighter never stood a chance as his PPCs carved away at the cockpit. Sending the enemy fighter spinning out into the void.

Blaze then shook his head and allowed the Eagle to coast while he pulled himself out of his tunnel vision.

"Blaze, we're on the other side of the furball," Edge's voice refocused him on his scopes.

"Armor status," Blaze looked at his scopes and noted that Archer and Chopper were through as well and forming up on him.

"Armor state yellow," Edge replied. "I took a few hits breaking through.

"I'm red in a few places, but you should see the other guys!" Chopper laughed.

"And you, kid?" Blaze asked.

"Green across the board," Archer replied. "Ready to go when you are."

"Form up, we're going to see what damage we can do to the dropships."

Two thirds of Wardog boosted for the cluster of dropships as they entered the atmosphere, the glow of reentry throwing off their sensors. Then they were through, and surrounded by scattered dropships. And there, escorting them were six light aerospace fighters.

"We got a bunch of Thrush and Sparrowhawks," you could hear the glee in her voice. "They can't do enough damage to stop us from hammering their droppers."

The four moved to strike at a Union while the light squadron boosted to intercept. The four heavies avoiding fire from the dropship turrets while carving away at armor until they got a sole penetrating strike.

Planetary Assault

Smoke billowed from the Union as the crew began to lithobrake. The bay doors opening as 'mechs with Jumpjets began falling instead of remaining onboard.

"Want us to take out the 'Mechs?" Chopper asked.

"No," Blaze replied as he locked eyes and sensors onto the best target to hit. "We're taking out their supplies."

A lone Mule was on their scanners. The dropship likely responsible for carrying most of the 2nd Mac's repair and resupply that they'd use to hammer the Marksmans.

"Boom and zoom," Edge agreed. "We only have enough time to hit one more dropship. So let's make this quick and RTB."

"Chopper, Archer, deal with those lights, Edge and I'll handle the Mule."

Blaze flipped his Eagle over and wagged his wings to avoid a PPC and flurry of LRMs from a nearby dropship. The shots instead impacting the Overlord and causing scratch damage.

Edge stayed on his wing as they boosted for the supply dropship.

Blaze reached up and tapped a control, tying his systems in with Edge's to highlight where they needed to hit.

Burning through fuel, Blaze and Edge began to open fire at extreme range, their shots beginning to edge closer to the point that they'd decided on mere moments ago. Their heatsinks strained to keep up with the heat generated and their cockpits became unbearably hot.

And then the lucky shot happened, Blaze's PPC carved through the armor over the cargo bay door and struck one of the ammunition storage areas, the secondary explosions tore through the ship as it began to drop like a rock.

"Archer, Chopper, pull back, we're going to see if there's anything left to do in orbit."

"Aww," Chopper complained. "I was having fun playing tag with these guys!"

The light fighter squadron was still alive, but most of them were trailing smoke and it was clear that they were all suffering from major armor damage.

The four then boosted for orbit once again and were greeted by the other two Marksman squadrons, or what was left of them.

Each squadron had lost two fighters, but Mother Goose and Thunderhead were engaged in Search & Recovery operations, their bays were opened as they recovered both Marksman and 2nd Mac pilots from the void of space. Those that were still alive, anyway.

"Mother Goose, patch me through to the Major," Blaze ordered, his comms not being able to reach as far as the Leopards.

"Copy that, encrypting and sending handshake now."

The audio crackled for a minute before a still image of their CO appeared in part of Blaze's HUD.

"Please tell me you have good news," Hull spoke.

"Enemy Air cover has been decimated, they're down to a single squadron of lights," Blaze glanced at the field of debris from the space battle. "We won't have supremacy, but we'll have superiority. They're also down a Union and a Mule. I'm pretty sure that the latter had their supplies on it."

"Good work," Hull replied. "Recover what you can, then RTB and get some R&R. This battle isn't over yet, not by a long shot."

---

Picking up the Pieces

Major Frank Irving stomped around the Command and Control Center onboard his Overlord dropship. "How the ever living Fuck did we lose two dropships on entry?!" he roared, slamming his hands on the holographic console, the glass creaking and nearly cracking.

"Their pilots were good, sir." an exhausted man in a pilot suit relaxed in a chair. "They were very good. I'd say that they were probably the only elite part of the unit they've got."

"You outnumbered them by a full squadron!" Irving growled. "Why are we paying you if you're not able to handle the job?"

"The rest of you made it down, didn't you?" the pilot raise an eyebrow. "You fucking Mechjocks wouldn't even be able to have a groundfight if it weren't for us. Now, I'm exhausted, and so are the rest of my men and women. I'm going to crash. You know where to find me if you want to chew me out some more, sir."

The pilot then limped out of the door, leaving the groundpounders behind to continue to plan the rest of the operation.

"Have we recovered anyone from the McRib?" Irving asked.

"We're getting some broken comms from jump capable 'Mechs that made it out," Captain Anderson shook his head. "But that's about it. They might be alive, but we've got no clue where they might have been scattered to."

"Have some infantry start trying to track them down," Irving ordered, his red face still flush with rage as he forced himself to calm down. "Start fanning out patrols, secure our LZ and establish contact with whatever's left of the local militia. By the time we're done, there won't be a Marksman Mercenary unit left in existence."

"Anderson, you'll stay here and keep the LZ secured with a company, I'm going to be leading from the front on this one."

---

Savaged while Salvaging

"Major Irving, we're getting odd sensor readings back here," Anderson reported. "It's like sensor ghosts or something."

"See if the techs can sort it out," Irving grunted, his Atlas shoving aside a small tree as it moved through the rural area. "Anything else to report?"

Atlas Assault 'Mech

"We found some of the distress beacons from the 'Mechs that bailed out of the McRib. But their 'Mechs are gone. The dropship itself's been looted too, her supplies are gone."

"Damn," Irving swore. "I was counting on that to help with our supply problem."

"Regardless, we're pushing through. We know they're at the Fusiliers' base, so we're going to hammer them there and make damned sure that they don't live to see another contract."

"Ambush!" A member of his command Lance called out as a flurry of SRMs erupted from the brush, cratering and crippling a Vindicator's knee and armor.

Vindicator Medium 'Mech

The missiles were all at once, and then nothing. It was as if they had appeared and then vanished into the ether after the return fire.

"Fucking weasels," Irving carved away at the nearby trees and cleared out the area. "Get our techs moved up, we're going to stop here for the day. "

"Sir, we were ambushed all across the board, every unit is reporting light damage and an unknown number of enemy casualties."

"Pull the damaged back for repairs and then push on through, we've got more ground to cover if we want to make it to the Fusiliers' base."

---

Warm Greetings

What followed was three weeks of hit and run attacks. Sometimes with those strange sensor ghosts that only seemed to use SRMs and sometimes with full 'Mech raiding parties.

Each ambush was dealt with handily by the 2nd Mac. After all, they were an high grade veteran and elite unit. But there was a big problem.

They had exhausted all of their armor stores, and many 'Mechs among the 2nd Mac were damaged, some were limping, some were low on ammunition, and they were all exhausted. But now they were at the gates of the base, and it was time to face off against the Marksman.

<<"Major Hull!">> Irving roared over the comms. <<"You fucking coward! Face me on the field of battle!">>

Irving's Atlas moved across the open field, the last few missile loads for his LRMs impacting on the few remaining turrets that ringed the walls of the base. Then Irving shifted and the company fell in behind him as the rest of the regiment advanced on the base, the remaining static defenses falling prey to the long range weaponry the 2nd Mac carried.

As soon as the voice finished, fire rained down from the skies as the Marksman's Aerospace squadrons dropped bombs on the 2nd Mac before dispersing away from Rifleman fire. The bombs falling down and detonating, sending small blooms of fire across the landscape before the pre-sighted artillery started firing as well. The artillery shattered a battalion in the opening rounds, the 'Mechs falling to the ground as their pilots ejected away from the distant fire.

<<"Get our scouts over to their artillery!">> Irving ordered. <<"And get our air wing in the skies!">>

Then he turned his attention to the gates.

Warhammer Heavy 'Mech

Raising his foot, Irving drove the massive foot of his Atlas into the door. One kick, then two, and finally, with a resounding thud and the ground shaking, the doors fell to the ground.

In front of the lead company was a courtyard, filled with 'Mechs and vehicles, all of their weapons pointed at the gates.

"Major Irving," a Warhammer stepped forward. "Welcome to Hell."

---

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