MVA3

Chapter 3 - My Vanity

Part 1 - The Plan

Dragon’s Rose DropShip
Barque of Ages JumpShip
Gatchina Nadir Jump Point
25 December 3055

The Barque of Ages, a play on the name for Ra’s Boat of a Million Years out of mythology, had just completed its jump. Everyone on the Dragon’s Rose spent a minute or more reorienting themselves when the kitchen got a call. John ‘Cookie’ Hankins, a big man with a child’s voice looked up from the hand-held phone at Al.

“Captain wants to see you,” Cookie said. Alius Cad’ver nodded his acknowledgement and shoved off toward the door.

Out in the hall, Al caught hold of the doorframe to redirect his motion down the long passage which ran the length of the forward crew compartments on this deck. He was aiming toward the between-deck ladder in the zero-gee shaft near the nose of the craft. Instead, he ran practically head-first into the lone passenger on this boat. It would have been a literal impact had Al not reflexively shoved off toward the opposite bulkhead that composed part of the ship’s hull. Instead, he missed by millimeters.

Al twisted in mid-air and shot the passenger a grin and a minor salute before catching a rail on the hull and propelling himself down the passage.

The other man, startled as he was, shot Al a glower. The passenger already looked like he didn’t like much. It was a cultivated look. The man could pass as any shaven-headed muscly mook out of a B-movie. The gear-earring added to the touch, along with the leather ensemble over a wife-beater T.

But, ‘Kip’ Cyprus Jones was the first one to find Al aboard ship. He had a generally disagreeable nature along with a strong sense of paranoia. He’d made it obvious from the beginning he didn’t trust or like Al. So, Al trusted the glower was quite genuine.

He wasn’t surprised when Kip turned to follow after a few healthy seconds of lead time.

Captain Parjebron Lee’s office was an extension of his quarters. The bed was tucked away in the wall, now serving as a couch for guests. The desk was surprisingly uncluttered, the captain trusting heavily in the electronic micro-computer that looked like a piece of colored glass rimmed with plastic and glowing with letters and images which were fuzzy from Al’s vantage point from the door. Beyond those decorations, the faux-wood veneer helped hide the few overhead cupboard doors and cozy up the otherwise stark lighting.

Captain Lee looked up at Al, rubbing the beard that covered his broad jaw. The captain was a big man, but not in the same way Cookie was big. He was simply thicker and stockier than the generally accepted human ideal. Al saw an almost identical resemblance to his long-lost father, complete with the shrinking hairline along the temples, and thin spot in the back.

He even sounded the same, with a bold baritone. With a gesture, Lee said, “Come in. Sit down.” Pausing, Lee looked out into the hall. “Was there someone out there with you?” “Just my shadow,” Al replied with a smirk as he floated to a seated position.

Lee rolled his eyes. “All right, Mister Jones. Get your butt in here. This concerns you, too, anyway.”

Jones darkened the doorway. He looked at Al, sitting on the couch. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stand,” he said, the growl equal parts attitude and the natural gravel of his voice.

Lee shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned to Al, taking on a more casual tone. “Since we found you onboard a few months ago, you’ve been under a probationary trial period of sorts. Well, that time is up. You’ve proven yourself while under supervision, and the crew likes you. With a few exceptions.” Lee eyeballed Jones.

Lee reached for the datapad on his desk and pushed it in Al’s direction. He stared at Al intently. “This is a contract. Read over carefully. If you accept the terms and sign it, you’ll no longer be an honorary member of the crew, you’ll be a full-fledged member.”

Al picked up the data-pad. While it was fancy, it didn’t reorient its contents with the new facing, forcing Al to turn it around. He read through the contents, trying to ignore the brief exchange between Kip and the Captain.

In spite of his best efforts, he took note of the exchange, anyway. As soon as Al had picked up the device, Kip had rolled his head in exaggerated frustration, voicing his thoughts at the same time with, “Awe, criminy! You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Lee said, voice low threatening. “If he signs, he will be a part of the crew. Once he is, you will have to show him the same respect as anyone else on my staff.”

“But, you don’t know who he really is -,” Kip started to say.

Captain Lee interrupted with a bark that quickly resumed a conversational tone, if barely. “I’ve heard your arguments plenty of times, Mr. Jones. But, Eli has acquitted himself admirably. If he were a saboteur, he would have made his move long before now. If he were a spy, I imagine someone would have noticed any messages leaving the ship in one form or another. You, yourself, have added an extra eye to his supervision in all this time. But, have you come to me with any sign of espionage or duplicity?”

Lee let the question hang in the air.

Kip looked away, neck muscles working as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I thought so,” Lee stated with finality.

Both men eventually returned to watching Al read. While listening to the exchange, he had to rescan a couple paragraphs. Thankfully, the document was only a page or two long, and not so littered with legalese, so he didn’t take long to get through it. Over the course of the trip through the Inner Sphere, Al had gotten used to working datapad micro-computers like these. In the last few stops, he’d helped check manifests, so he didn’t have to ask how to sign. The stylus was cradled in a little slot on the left side. Once in his dominant right hand, the signature was made, and Al was handing the datapad back to the Captain.

Al always found signatures made on electronic screens strangely difficult to maintain uniformity. Not the same as writing on a sheet of paper. But, it would have to do.

Lee looked at the signature and the printed name Al had put down. He quirked a brow at the sight before studying Al a moment. “Ay-lye-us,” he said aloud. “Not Elias. ‘Al’. Not ‘Eli’.”

Al nodded, adding, “That’s right.”

Remaining studious, Lee eventually put the pad down and resumed a congenial attitude. Reaching over the desk, he offered Al his hand. Al took the hand firmly, as he’d learned a long time ago to do, and shook once.

Lee smiled. “Welcome aboard the Dragon’s Rose, Crewman Cad’ver. I will inform everyone else on board. I believe you have duties to return to.”

Al smirked and nodded.

With a gesture, Captain Lee indicated Al should be on his way. In the mere seconds it took Al to shove off and float out, Cyprus had already disappeared into the hall. But, in the passage, Cyprus was waiting. Al slid by, on his way to the ladder. Kip quickly caught up, and put a blocking arm in front of Al. Using his reflexes, Al quickly forced a halt in his momentum.

“I don’t care what the captain thinks of you,” Kip growled. “But, I don’t trust you. If I ever find you near the cargo holds, I will kill you.”

Part 2 - Trial Run

Aboard the Rose Quartz
System Search Grid 7
Zenith Jump Point
Uncharted Periphery
28 February 3058

Casey found himself looking up at one of many ore bins in the Quartz’s long cargo hold. A Buccaneer Class DropShip, the main fuselage was around 30 meters in height and width. It was more than enough space to fit large bins designed to carry all kinds of ore. But, in a handful of them were hidden the BattleMechs belonging to Damien, Javier, Miko, Al and Casey. The one in front of Casey was the one with his Griffin.

For a brief moment, his mind wandered to the story Al had told of his time on another Buccaneer. The vision of the wreck he’d found when secretly following Al out into the desert had him wondering just what it was Kip Jones had stored in its cargo holds that he didn’t want anyone to find. Casey expected it was a BattleMech or two. Maybe more. While the volume of the vessel didn’t allow room for too many mechs, it could accommodate a company, easily, with lift capacity left for all kinds of supplies.

Taking a moment to readjust the full deck-hand jumpsuit, Casey couldn’t help enjoying the symmetry. Al had been made a member of the Dragon’s Rose crew. As part of payment for the Quartz’s service, the mercenaries and their techs were also acting as honorary crew for the duration of the pirate hunt mission. If anyone decided to come aboard and do an inspection, they wouldn’t be able to tell merc or crewman apart until the interrogations started.

The whole set-up was awful cloak-and-dagger, but Casey, being Lyran, could appreciate the cost savings.

His comm beeped. Casey activated it, acknowledging he was receiving.

Javier’s voice sounded from the tiny speaker. “Now that we’re in transit, the Liaison wants to run over the plan one more time. Briefing in twenty.”

“Putnam, acknowledged,” Casey said. “Briefing in twenty.”

With that, Casey reached for the ladder leading to the top of the ore bin. It was time to finish checking his ’Mech.

The briefing was held in the Rose Quartz’s mess, since it didn’t have a dedicated meeting room. As a civilian transport, it didn’t have a military style briefing room, either. So, everything was done around a table in the galley. Like Casey, the rest of Damien’s merc band were in Rose Quartz crew togs. The only person to stand out was the Magistracy Liaison, Arturo McMurty.

The dark blue tunic and trousers tightly clinging to his average frame was nothing like the orange coveralls of the dropship crew. McMurty seemed aware of the clothes worn by the five MechWarriors, the lone aerospace pilot and their technical staff. He nodded his head in approval while looking over the crowd assembled in the room. Running his hand over his dark brown hair, cut to Canopian military standards, he paused to rub on his mustache, the one personal affectation he allowed himself.

From his position near a wall, Casey caught McMurty’s comment to Damien. The man was clearly audible over the general din of side conversations before the briefing proper.

“I like the blending in with the crew. But, I bet somebody would notice if too many of you were just sitting around, doing nothing.”

“Oh, they’re busy,” the Quartz’s Captain said. A tall man with a constant barely shaved scruff around his neck, his was the one face in the room Casey didn’t recognize. “We have an arrangement. A deal of sorts. They get a discount, but have to pull their weight in the trip.”

McMurty quirked a brow, resuming his appreciative nod.

Al leaned over to Casey from the left. Softly, he said, “Y’know, even with the lighter piping, if he had some sun-glasses, our Liaison could pass for an 80’s beat cop. The mustache just completes the ensemble.”

Casey was baffled by the comment, and shot Al a questioning look.

Al’s smile thinned into a smirk when he saw Casey’s confusion. “Out of an old 1980’s film. United States Police Officers looked a lot like him. Just picture him with some aviator’s sun-glasses and swinging a billy-club, and maybe chewing some gum, and that’s exactly what you’d get.”

Casey partly shrugged. He could envision the image Al was trying to convey, but the historical reference was too far outside his experience.

There was a snigger out of Chin on Casey’s right. “Man, where do you come up with this stuff?” When Casey looked over at him blankly, Chin held up his datapad. On it was the very image Al had just described, complete with blue uniform. “Found this in the jumper’s archives.”

“You’re right,” Casey admitted. He flashed the two a weak smile. The joke, while understood, just wasn’t that funny to him.

Chin waved at Casey dismissively. “Don’t mind him. -” “All right!” Damien said, interrupting loud enough for everyone to hear and fall silent. “Meeting time.”

McMurty raised his voice to be heard once all eyes were on him. “All right. I know we discussed this before, but I want to refresh your memories. Because of the low-tech nature of our meeting, I’m having some pictures passed around so you will know whether you’ve found our quarry or not. If you happen to run across a different pirate group, you will be rewarded for their destruction and/or capture. But, we’re after these folks, specifically.

“Snarl and Swoop’s last raid gave them enough parts to repair their lance to functionality. The other two ’Mechs are a vintage 8Q Awesome and a stock 3R Crud. Snarl is known to pilot a custom Hunchback with an upgraded Ultra Cannon. Swoop’s Phoenix Hawk is also customized, but people observers haven’t been able to identify how.”

Phoenix Hawk 'Medium 'Mech

He paused long enough to look at Damien. “I’ve reviewed your plan, and I’ll give you marks for originality. But, there’s room for a lot to go wrong. We have two more stops on the Discovery’s route after you disembark. It’ll be at least three weeks before we check back in.”

The Quartz’s Captain was the first to speak. “We have all the equipment we need to dig ourselves out if we do touch down rough.”

“Snarl’s got a pair of medium fighters,” McMurty said. “What if they decide to actually shoot at you?”

“DeForrest’s Iron Sides will be dropped in high orbit before our first pass,” Damien said. “That should be enough to handle a pair of Corsairs, along with the Quartz’s armament.”

McMurty looked only partly convinced.

“Look,” Damien added, “Nobody’s here that doesn’t want to be. We made sure of that before lift-off. We know what we might be getting into. Besides, if we aren’t here to meet you, or you don’t get our signal, you’ll have a place to bring the other parties to search.”

McMurty nodded reluctantly.

Part 3 - Insertion

Grid System 7
Planet 5
High Orbital Descent
5 March 3058

It had been a little over a weak, and Casey had almost forgotten about the potential risks in Damien’s plan. But, now, strapped into his cockpit, feeling the effects of the atmosphere vibrating through his surroundings, he had plenty of time to reflect and worry. The ore covering the broad bubble canopy blocked any view to the outside world, though that would have been the ribbed metal hull of the ore bin holding and hiding his Griffin from the rest of the ship. With only the glowing lights from his console and HUD, the vibrations felt more pronounced.

The plan was creative. The mercs were part of a larger party doing a search through select systems trying to hunt down a particular group of pirates. The logic was sound. Instead of burning in-system with a military dropper, sending the pirates either into hiding or scrambling for their dropper and jumper, come in with something that would catch their interest. A bulk freighter broadcasting its arrival time at some unidentified facility on an uninhabited world would certainly catch attention. Pirates being pirates, they’d most likely want to come investigate.

But, there was a lot riding on that curiosity. Snarl or Swoop might exercise the better part of caution and never show up or scramble out-system anyways. That would invalidate all the searches under way. But, the real concern was how aggressive the pirates might be in their curiosity. Would they be patient enough to wait for the ship to land and then come searching? Or would they send up fighters to redirect the transport to land at their hide-out or somewhere nearby. The worst-case would be one of the fighter jocks being a little too paranoid and shooting the Quartz down to sort out the contents later with no questions asked.

“McMurty is a master of understatement,” Casey muttered aloud. “Don’t worry, Casey,” Al chimed in over the comms. “We’re gonna be fine.”

Hearing his comrade’s confidence helped sooth Casey a little bit. Al’s insane luck might be the very thing that carries the group through this. The young man had survived another DropShip crash. Casey also reminded himself that there was a ten percent chance that the pirates would be in the system at all. Nine planets in the grid, and the off-chance they weren’t even in that grid was the math Casey was using.

“Thanks, pal,” Casey replied.

They were wired into the Quartz’s internal comms, by the Captain’s recommendations. In fact, it was a part of the plan to coordinate a staged explosion to drop one of the ’Mech bins should fighters come calling. If nothing else, Casey would hear if anything went wrong the moment it happened. Right now, the only thing being broadcast was the signal to the ‘secret facility’ indicating the Quartz’s current status in flight, which happened to be re-entry.

He stared out through the visor on his neural helmet. In front of him, Casey’s reflection hovered on canopy glass made black by the darkness outside. Chocolate-skinned arms, the gray, bulky helmet and darker gray tubes of the coolant vest were all pigmented by the glow of active consoles and control panels. The reflection started to wobble at the same time he did. Outside the ’Mech, beyond its specially made steel coffin, the Rose Quartz was just entering the atmosphere of some unseen planet. He couldn't see his teeth through the helmet on the makeshift mirror, but if he could, his grin would have glowed bright red. It was nearly six years after that damned Clan invasion, and Casey Putnam was back in action.

Minutes passed before the shaking subsided. This was it. His heart raced, chest burning with anticipation. If anything was going to go wrong, it would be in the next few moments. He breathed deep breaths to calm his anxiety. While he did that, he paid an ear to the comms, listening in on the voices as the bridge crew worked.

“This is Rose Quartz calling Lead Mine Ridge Space Port, do you copy, over,” the captain said.

The captain’s metallic voice kept on repeating the same phrase, over and over, roughly every half minute. The monotonous droning was only broken up now and then by brief reports from other parts of the ship.

“Rose Quartz!” A new voice, a woman’s, very angry, sounded over the general frequency. “I don’t know where you think you are, but there is no Lead Mine Ridge space port here.”

“Who is this?” the captain demanded, but the woman on the other side just kept going.

“You are impeding on His Majesty Ross’s airspace.” A pause. “You will undoubtedly notice two aerospace fighters approaching you. I’m transmitting coordinates. You will change your current heading to these coordinates. His Majesty’s fighters will escort you.”

“His majesty Ross, huh?” Casey muttered. “Is that what Snarl likes to call himself at home?”

Whoever this girl on the wire was, she was doing an impressive job sounding official. The plan was going almost on script. The pirates were curious and trying to lure in this nice, shiny gem.

“I see them,” a crewman said in the background. “Two of them five kilometers off our seven and eight o’clock, respectively.”

“Look. I don’t know anything about ‘His Majesty Ross’,” the captain said, sounding irate. “I’ve been assured by my navigator that we are in the Lead Mine system, a private holding of the…”

“Listen, Rose Quartz,” the ground controller said, attempting again to assert her will. “If you don’t change your heading, -Now!- you will be fired upon. Do you hear me?!”

“Yeah, I hear you. And I warn you, whoever you are, that we will fire back!”

“Rodger Bridge! Signal received," another crewman said, sounding clear in Casey's ear. "Blowing starboard hatch. Releasing smoke.”

That was the bay quartermaster. Not a second after he had made his announcement, the radio erupted in chaos. Casey had a hard time keeping track of it all, but he tried. “Oh my God,” the captain shouted. “They actually fired on us!” “What?! What do you mean?” Ground Control demanded, her voice distant. “Find out who fired on them - !”

“Launching debris,” the bay master said calmly.

“ …Our pilots claim none of them fired on you,” Ground Control said.

The ship shuddered, no longer burdened by the weight from a good number of real bins filled with actual ore. Casey couldn’t help thinking about how much that ore might cost. He hoped it wouldn’t affect payroll.

“Cutting starboard engine,” said the chief engineer.

“Like hell they didn’t! That’s it,” the captain said. “F.C.! Tag ’em!” “…Look at the readout,” Ground Control’s voice was muffled. “Somebody had to.”

It would’ve been interesting to hear the exchange between the pilots and Ground Control. Imagining the cacophony of confusion that went on made Casey cough out a quiet chuckle.

“Got one,” the first background voice, the gunner, said.

“God damnit! Pull them back, now!” Ground Control’s muffled voice said before it cut out entirely.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday,” the captain said in a dead calm. “This is the Rose Quartz. We are under attack. We have sustained damage and are losing altitude, heading east…”

Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes. The captain kept on repeating his mayday message over and over, creating a sort of cadence. In keeping to that cadence came the call to brace for impact. Casey hunched up and grabbed onto the harness, just in time to feel the ship lurch heavily. The command couch pressed harshly and sharply into his back. The quick surge of pain brought back a lot of memories. Some were pleasant, like his early days of ‘Mech training. Others were not so pleasant, like the day he lost the family ‘Mech.

The pain was gone as quickly as it had flared, and the memories with it, but the ship still shook. On his back, in his cockpit, Casey was lightly rocked around for another handful of seconds. The shaking and shuddering quickly subsided as the Rose Quartz came to a dead rest. Things remained still and eerily silent. It was so quiet Casey began to worry that something had gone wrong with the landing. He looked at the internal clock, watching the time indicator change, second by second, waiting for any sign of life outside.

And, there he sat, in his cockpit. The lights glowed off the cockpit canopy, still black from the ore bin outside. Casey’s smile was gone, though, while he waited for an all clear signal. Seconds changed on the internal clock, then the minute. The minute changed a couple more times, and his gut started to ache with worry. Something must have gone wrong. It wouldn’t take the enemy fighters that long to be over the horizon and gone. He wanted to activate the comm set and call out. Make sure everyone was all right. Yet, he waited.

‘Just a little longer,’ he though to himself. ‘Just a little longer! Give them a chance. Maybe they’re just being over-cautious.’

But, what if they weren’t? What if they were all hurt, or even worse, dead? Casey wrestled with these flitting, niggling thoughts. His finger twitched, aching to reach down and hit the comm switch. Another minute passed, and he was about to give in to the urge. His finger was millimeters away, inching closer.

Then, the receivers in his helmet came to life.

“Display Case to all Geodes,” the voice of the Quartz’s captain came quietly, tickling Casey’s ears. “The hammer has passed from sight. It is safe to disembark.”

“Geode Two confirms,” Javier said. “All Geodes sound in.”

Rumiko sounded in. Casey sounded in. Al sounded in. Casey was relieved, mostly, but noticed Damien’s absence. It was all part of the plan, he knew. However, with their fearless leader under radio silence, there was no way to know if his own landing had gone smoothly. One way or the other, they would have to do without him.

“All right, geodes,” Javier said, “time to roll out.”

---

Part 4 - Battle

“They're coming,” Miko's voice crackled loudly over the mic.

Casey's head shot up, as much as his neural helmet would allow. Surprised, he was quickly dragged away from the ugly surrounding offered by a planet with thin ozone. The brown, thick-skinned grasses that crumpled under his Griffin's wide, square feet were quickly forgotten. His gaze moved to the north, away from the Quartz, buried in a long trail of downed and broken trees. On the horizon, he saw more of the local trees, gnarled and twisted, with rigid, stiff leaves and wicked looking thorns. Above them, a plume of dust blending quickly into an almost white gray sky.

Having his doubts about the master plan from the start, Casey was still expecting the pirates to have some modicum of common sense. When he saw the dust to the north, he was certain that it was their DropShip powering up for a hasty blast-off. Now, with Miko's warning, there seemed to be some hope for the plan, after all.

But, if they were coming, Snarl and his gang had to at least suspect a trap.

"Just as expected," she continued in her light soprano, "They're coming in force. According to seismic data, I'm reading one assault, one certain medium class, and either two heavies or one heavy and a medium."

"Sounds like the Intel was good,” Javier said. “But, expect some surprises. Okay. Let's go. We don't want them getting too close to the Quartz. Miko, we’ll meet you."

"Understood."

Al and Casey echoed her, but Javier was already moving. His flame stenciled red, yellow and orange Firestarter turned its painted gaze on the two new-hires, the black cockpit glass between the two fiery eyes giving the impression of a furled elemental brow. Then it kicked off at a track star's run, heading up a small swell and disappearing between some small copses.

Firestarter

Al, too had throttled his navy blue and grey Warhammer into a run. While the heavy ’Mech was really pumping its legs, it wasn't near enough to keep pace with the Firestarter. As soon as Casey throttled his Griffin forward, the Warhammer was being left behind. Cutting back a little, Casey didn't let Al slip too far back.

While they traveled away from the Quartz, over hills and through small woods, Casey kept trying to puzzle out the pirates’ approach. But a quick glance at the countryside was answer enough. This place had nothing. These plants were undoubtedly far from edible. The atmosphere may be breathable, barely, but anyone standing outside long enough would be severely burned. The only thing going for it was the large ocean of water not too far to the north, and that probably had to be purified. In fact, one of many thefts off a long list of crimes was of water treatment equipment.

This place had nothing. No industry. No large population centers. No commerce. Snarl's encampment was given away from orbit only by the presence of their dropship. It was the only sign of human habitation.

So, when someone accidentally dropped out of the sky in a transport undoubtedly full of expensive materials that could be resold, it must have seemed like mana from heaven. Casey didn't know whether to be pleased at Damien's insight into the mind of their prey, or to be sickened by the state of humanity that it was necessary to hunt people down who were doing what they could just to survive. The fact that Snarl and his gang were forced into this position was a common theme in this universe. For an instant, Casey could feel for them.

Then he remembered some of the other crimes listed against the band. Sometimes desperation wasn't enough to justify every evil a person could commit. These people were criminals and needed to answer for their crimes. Thankfully it paid more to bring them in alive. They were getting closer. Each swaying step brought the mercs and the pirates ever closer. And each step tightened Casey's gut in anxiety. He couldn't help it. He knew what he was getting into. It didn't help knowing that they were outmassed significantly. It didn't help knowing that Damien's ’Mech would have turned the tide. The fact that each mercenary machine had some form of advanced tech didn't really add much comfort.

But, it wasn't just survival Casey was concerned about. Once the pirates learned of the trap, they would undoubtedly turn and run. Being as heavy as they were, the pirates could definitely withstand a lot of punishment. If they ran, it was almost certain more than one would get away. Those would probably be the two that mattered most, Snarl and Swoop.

Up ahead, clear on both the three hundred and sixty degree monitor, as well as through the giant bubble canopy that was the Griffin's head, Javier's flame colored Firestarter was at a standstill just behind a hill. In a few more seconds, Al's Warhammer and Casey's Griffin would also be close.

Miko’s tan Jenner came around the hill from her forward scouting position, skidding to a halt next to Javi’s ’Mech.

"They’re just on the other side of the far hill," Miko said It was redundant, because Casey's sensors were already picking up four machines almost half a kilometer away and closing.

"Did they-?" Javier started to ask. "No. They haven't seen me. But they undoubtedly know we're here." "Did you-?" "It is the group we’re looking for. Their machines are a direct match."

"Alright!” Javier sounded energized. “Al. Casey. You work on the Assault. Once the big guns are out of the way, we can handle Snarl and Swoop. Keep your distance from Snarl. You don’t want to get hit by that assault cannon. And, be careful of Swoop. She lives up to her name. Miko, you're with me."

Together the two light ’Mechs headed off to the right. Javier's Firestarter flew up into the air on twin jets of steam from the cylindrical tubes on its back, dropping out of the air to disappear into a small forest. The Jenner wheeled around quickly and started off around the woods, its extraordinarily long legs eating up the ground quickly.

Al and Casey had both just pulled to a halt. It was simple for Casey to press his throttle forward and steer his Griffin up the small rise in front of him. Al joined him on the left.

The battle was about to start, and already Casey was beginning to focus. Forgotten, the anxiety in his gut disappeared. On the sensor read, two of the enemy were pressing forward while two more stayed behind the next hill over. His HUD painted the one in front of him while it climbed the opposite slope. Projections indicated it would be in view by the time he was on top of his own little hill.

Without hesitation, he quickly toggled a firing solution for both the ER PPC held in the Griffin's right hand, and the LRM tube mounted to the right of his cockpit.

"All right, Al. Don't get too far away from me. If Swoop's as dangerous as they say, we'll need to cover eachother's backs."

"You're worried about me out-pacing you?" Al quipped. Casey couldn't help twisting to look sidelong out of his neurohelmet. He glimpsed the Warhammer jogging to keep pace while his Griffin strolled up the hill beside it. Point taken.

"In the heat of battle? Easily," Casey quipped back.

Flanked by ugly trees, Casey’s target, an Awesome appeared on the next hill over just as he and Al topped their rise. As an assault BattleMech, it was the biggest threat on the field. It had three of the hardest hitting beam weapons in the Inner Sphere or the surrounding periphery. And, it had the armor to allow for an extended fire fight at range.

It was backed up by a Crusader which appeared among the trees at the base of the Awesome's hill, to Casey's right. But, those were the only pirates in range or line of sight. Snarl’s and Swoop’s ’Mechs hung back on the other side, well out of view and range.

He didn't like it. Sending out only two while the others hung back? What were they planning?

“We’ll take care of the Crud,” Javier said. “You two tackle that Awesome.” “Got it,” Casey said, echoed by Al’s, “Roger.”

All three of the Awesome’s PPC barrels glowed, ready to fire, the moment its blocky upper body came into view. In a pattern that would set the cycle for the rest of the battle, six Particle Projection Cannons flashed blue beams, perforating the sky between the Griffin, the Warhammer, and the Awesome. Then Casey’s ’Mech rocked when the missile launcher fired its payload of twenty missiles, ten and ten in quick succession.

Their smoke clouded his view for an instant, but not before seeing a key detail that made everything all so clear. The monitor in front of him tried to compensate for the sudden visual obstruction, providing a digital rendering of an amalgam of sensory data. Missile and particle beams got colored vector lines over a cartoonish rendering of the Awesome’s exposed upper body and the surrounding terrain. The Awesome’s hidden legs and lower half got a simple wire-frame outline.

But, Casey didn't need it to see clearly what his own eyes spotted, glaring in the bright white sun.

"Al. Play the range game," he said.

While kicking in his pedals, activating the Griffin's jets, the cockpit's internal fans activated, and coolant ran through the vest on which the giant, bulky neural helmet rested. Casey felt the cool against his torso, front and back, as well as along his scalp and neck where the lines laced through the helmet.

Pausing in his explanation, he glanced at the compressed panoramic monitor to see if Javier and Miko needed assistance with the sixty-five ton Crusader. His eyes quickly picked out a small detail that reassured him he would not be needed. It also confirmed what they had been told in the briefings.

While in flight, soaring over his friend as the heavy Warhammer jogged down slope, Casey toggled another PPC shot at the Awesome. The enemy was holding its place just the other side of the bald crown up above, making it an easy enough target.

All the while, he said, "Intel is sound. That Awesome is a dated 8Q. Look closely at the right arm's housing. We can outrange it."

Casey guided his ’Mech toward a copse of trees. The Griffin came smashing down through branches and leaves. Just as its feet touched the brush-covered ground, the right arm reached up, pointing the gun in its hand at the Awesome.

It fired. Almost simultaneously, the beam was joined by two more from the heavy cannons which made up the Warhammer's lower arms. The beams swayed with the ’Mech’s motion while it shouldered its way through the trees to Casey's right.

Even though it hadn't moved from its position, the Awesome ducked, taking the shots. Contrary to popular opinion, BattleMechs were mobile machines and capable of almost every motion that any out-of-shape person strapped in full plate armor could make. The quick move was unexpected, and the targeting systems in the Merc machines tried to compensate, to keep the beams focused on one spot of the enemy as long as possible.

But the dodge worked. All three beams played errantly over its upper body, thrown off by the sudden move. Without the smoke in the way, Casey could actually see one of the beams slice a little too close to the hill, evaporating grass and dirt in equal measure. A sure sign that the paint blackened on the Awesome's front by each shot would probably be nothing more serious.

Only one shot, Casey's, remained focused enough that the armor actually glowed and cracked and splintered just as the beam winked out. It was really difficult to make out with the naked eye at this distance, but the HUD immediately painted the damage on the target for him. If the sensors said so, then it was true.

The enemy bobbed, came up, and immediately returned fire with its three particle beams. They perforated the air to Casey's right, just a little before Al's twin beams winked out. Branches and leaves puffed into steaming vapor, splinters and smoldering ash at the merest touch as they tried for the only significant threat the Mercs had.

"Hold here! Hold here," Casey said.

Following his own advice, he triggered both his Long-Range Missiles and the particle cannon, and he had a quick few seconds to reflect while watching his enemy from the trees. While the fans in his cockpit came on and the coolant in the vest started to flow, Casey kept a close eye on his target.

The Awesome made no motion to come after them, and Casey became even more certain he understood the enemy's plan. In fact, seeing the other two markers behind the hill on the overhead map confirmed it.

"We keep here," he said. "I think they're waiting for us to close, banking on our trying to take advantage of the poor focusing range on those old Kreuses."

But, Casey and Al didn't have to play that game. The newer extended range model cannons would start to have a telling effect, able to bring their beams to bear at better ranges in sufficient force that the enemy's armor couldn't expect to shrug it off as easily.

"That hill's still proving a problem, though," Al said. "It won't matter," Casey replied.

However, he didn't have time to continue the argument. A missile lock warning beeped in his right ear, catching his attention. Quickly, he pulled his gun arm back, almost like going into a guard stance in karate, with the gun still pointed at the Awesome, but from the hip. His view blocked by the huge tube launcher, the only sight he had of the incoming missiles was on the compressed panoramic monitor in front of him. They streaked in faster than a bat of an eye, and the Griffin rocked. The motion was partly defensive on his ’Mech’s part. The rest of it was from the fifteen explosions which tore new holes in the tree canopy. They sounded like distant fireworks through the sound-proofed armor.

A quick glance at the diagnostics monitor said that was about the only effect most of them had. Some had scored some damage. But most had come up a little short. Distracted for a brief instant, he did a double-take when he went back to concentrate on the Awesome. His gaze drifted back to the monitor and the Crusader.

Javier had gotten the jump on the Crusader, flying his Firestarter over and behind it, landing deeper in the miniature forest. The IR signature for the enemy ’Mech, indicated in a small color band just beneath it on Casey's HUD, showed that the Crud was doing too much all at once. Trying to fight the darting and running light 'Mechs, the errant LRMs it had just flung at Casey to aid its heavier friend had overtaxed its cooling systems.

Then the Firestarter bathed the Crud in hell-fire.

From deep inside the shade offered by the trees, two bright, fiery explosions engulfed the Crusader while it was still wading forward. Those Fireballs were quickly followed by two twin streams of superheated fusion plasma from the handless wrists of the Firestarter's arms.

Fireball Light 'Mech

It's IR signature went from a steady brightening orange to a bright whitish yellow.

The Crusader was completely soaked, burning. The trees it had been pushing through were also alight, and the flames were spreading. Fire dripped from the ’Mech and the trees to the ground, lighting the coarse grasses underfoot, casting dark shade into hues of bright yellow and orange. The Crusader, still marching forward, started to slow to a walk, then froze to a stop. An already bright IR signature dropped significantly. Either the pilot wasn't fast enough to hit the override, or he had been completely caught off guard. The end result was the same. His ’Mech’s engine had powered down.

“Hahahaaaah! Otra victima por el fuego consumida,” Javier shouted triumphantly. “Holy crap! Did we do that?” Al blurted, excited.

Casey didn’t catch the context until his LRMs fired, the smoke blocking his view of the inferno. Quickly looking back up the hill, he was just in time to catch the Awesome’s head sinking from view behind the hill. Had it fallen down? Did it take that significant a hit from Al's and Casey's combined fire? Having missed the exchange, he couldn’t tell.

The superimposed display showed where the enemy should have been behind the hill, and its most likely position after going down. It also displayed far more damage, probably from a fall.

A small paranoid part of him brought up the notion the pirate was trying to draw them in with a ruse.

Only the Crusader was in view. However, another moment’s study showed its IR was slowly becoming brightly visible again. While the pirate ’Mech absorbed heat from the burning inferno gel and the fire raging around it, its heat sinks were overloading. It wasn’t cooling off. The old Succession Wars classic just didn’t have the dissipation capacity. Casey guessed that even if the pilot could get his ’Mech started, he wouldn’t be able to move it out of the fire.

The Crusader’s pilot must have come to the same conclusion. In the few seconds it took Casey to figure it out, the Crusader’s head burst open. Rocketing out of the fire, the pilot drifted from his chute to the ground many meters behind it, outside of the inferno.

The Crud was out of the fight.

Casey didn't hesitate. Kicking on his jets, he rocketed his Griffin out over the tops of the trees and down into the valley between the two hills.

"Now's our chance, Al. Let's close on him."

"What about a trap?"

"With the Crud out, we can take him. And your ’Mech does better in close," Casey said, ending with a woof when the Griffin landed hard.

Al had already started forward as soon as Casey did, and wasn't too far behind. So, the argument wasn't necessary. The trap was still a concern. The Awesome hadn't resumed its feet. However, the two medium ’Mechs behind the hill hadn't moved, either. They were still down at the bottom.

As he activated his jets again, the upward momentum masked the sinking feeling that was building in Casey’s gut. Were they thinking of running? Considering they lost one of their own inside half a minute, something which shouldn't have happened so early, it was easy to see they were now outmatched.

At the height of his jump, Casey could see the two pirate leaders. Snarls Hunchback and Swoop's Phoenix Hawk turned away, as if they were about to run. But, then he saw Javier running his ungainly Firestarter around the trees that covered the right side of the hill, right into range of their weapons.

"Whoah! Javier, you're too close. Watch out!" Casey called. "Aren't you in position?" Javier sounded calm, if confused. "The Awesome's not dead yet!"

True to his word, and just as part of Casey had suspected, the Awesome slowly pushed itself to its feet right under his crosshairs. Pulling the trigger for his PPC, he knew that as soon as he landed, he would be the target for all three of the other 'Mech's big guns. Goosing his jets, he changed course. He would come down just the other side of the slope, putting some of the bald hill between them. Casey would at least have his legs covered.

With the firing solution already set, he only had to watch the landing. Firing his jets one last time at the last minute, the Griffin's broad feet crushed grass while it crouched to absorb the rest of the landing. Unexpectedly, his ’Mech sidestepped once, defensively trying to throw off the enemy's fire.

Two beams lanced out from the barrels on either side of the Awesome's waist, dancing across the Griffin's armored chest. While the paint blackened and metal glowed, the armor diagram on the HUD indicated the damage was negligible.

While the Awesome's beams burned, the Griffin returned the favor, blackening the already blackened centerline under the enemy’s square chin. It was quickly joined by two more blue particle beams and five red laser beams of varying diameter.

Al's Warhammer wasn't too far behind Casey, loping steadily up the hill.

The armor projection across the Awesome's visible front went red in the center when more armor chunks flash-vaporized and melted, leaving giant, jagged, cracked pits. Its own defensive movement combined with the strong hits wasn’t enough to send the pirate toppling again, but this fight would be over soon at this range. Another hit from anything would start piercing the Awesome's ruined metal hide on the center torso.

A flash from the panoramic monitor caught Casey's eye and he glanced down, watching in sudden fascination the ruin Snarl's Hunchback was dishing out to Javier's poorly placed Firestarter. He was just observing the trail end of the attack when the giant blocky shoulder cannon paused in its flaming belch before spitting flame again.

The Firestarter had already staggered from the first hit, trying to recover from having its shoulder forcefully wrenched to the side after a hailstorm of shells, only visible through HUD tracers, had nibbled away at the arm. Covered in High Explosive smoke, Casey could only tell from damage diagram overlays how bad it was. The armor was swiss cheese at this point and the gray metal muscle and support frame was no better. The HUD painted it dark, destroyed.

But the second blast went lower, hammering away all up and down the leg. The assault put a shudder in the Firestarter's normal stride. Then, in two steps, the fiery light 'Mech was on the ground, at about the same time Casey’s HUD painted the leg black.

One step, and the Firestarter was clear of the smoke, its arm dropping limp to its side. The second step never came. Riding on its bad leg, the Firestarter was propelled forward by its own momentum. As it reached the end of its stride, the leg did not lift. Instead, the knee gave under the weight, as if the ’Mech were dropping into a crouch on one leg. Momentum carried it down and forward, the knee hitting the ground, bending the already mangled thigh. The upper body continued forward, plowing into the grass and dirt on its beat-up shoulder. Coming to a quick stop, the lifeless arm flopped to the ground beside it.

Casey winced, the called out. “Javi. You all right?" He heard a muttered curse. “I'm fine! I'm fine. Can you keep these guys off me?" “He won't have to,” Miko said. “They're running.” Javier muttered a couple more curses. “Can you chase them? Can anybody get to them?”

Casey looked at the Awesome not sixty meters away from him. It took up a defensive stance. The pirate wasn't going anywhere and looked like he planned on being a roadblock for anyone who tried to pass.

“Al, can you handle our friend?” “Not a problem,” Al replied.

As Casey kicked on his jets, he watched his friend's Warhammer crest the hill with an extra bit of strength to its stride. Its front was blackened from the constant beam exchanges between it and the Awesome. Unlike the eighty-tonner's centerline, however, the damage overlay on Al’s ’Mech showed only minor damage. As Casey sailed over the one thing between him and the running pirates, he knew without a doubt that the Warhammer would win out in a slugfest at such short ranges.

Casey brought the Griffin down in a relatively gentle landing, Missiles and PPC already triggered on the farthest fleeing back. He was about to slam the throttle forward, urging his ’Mech into a run, when he was distracted by a sudden announcement by an unfamiliar, high-pitched feminine voice.

"I surrender," she said.

"Jav?" Al asked, sounding uncertain. Casey held back on the throttle while glancing up the hill. The Awesome's square head had opened up, revealing a woman. Her dark hair blowing in the slight breeze, she raised her hands.

"Good," Javier exclaimed. “Hurry! Go. Both of you, keep them from getting away! Miko and I will stay back and consolidate our gains."

Al was already moving, his Warhammer working its way gently down the slope as fast as it could. On the way down, he shot at the departing Snarl with both ER PPCs and four lasers which were hopelessly out of range.

Casey waited for his friend to catch up. Well before then, his weapons fired, the beam and missiles intercepting Swoop’s fleeing Phoenix Hawk. Disappointingly, Swoop contorted around, throwing off the shots. Casey couldn't help thinking that the LRM explosions actually gave the pirate a slight boost.

Once Al was close, Casey started the Griffin running, toggling another solution with both missiles and particle cannon on Swoop. The Phoenix Hawk ran at the same track star pace that Javi’s Firestarter could manage, undamaged. Being the farthest away, Swoop was soon to be out of range. Both Al and Casey could outpace Snarl’s much slower hunchback. Unless anybody did something to slow her down, Swoop would escape.

As Casey raced forward, Snarl started to drift in front of him. Confused for a moment, his eyes quickly drifted down to the panoramic monitor. He wasn't surprised to find Al's Warhammer keeping pace, almost step for step, with his Griffin. It was eating up ground with extra strong strides. Then he realized the effect it was having on Snarl.

The Warhammer's hot IR signature was unmistakable. Under normal circumstances, any heavy 'Mech should have been left in the dust with the effect such heat would have on its control circuitry. But it was keeping pace with a Griffin, instead.

Casey's lips twisted in a grim smile. Something he had taken for granted in many, many sim battles was one last surprise which had the pirate on edge. Snarl was trying to keep away from a monster. At the same time, Casey realized, he would be using the Griffin's poor short-range offense against it should he turn and fight. When it turned to fight. At the rate Al and Casey were closing with Snarl, that option was unavoidable.

Running down a long, open valley dotted with small copses of trees and a small pond, Al and Casey got one more shot off at the Phoenix Hawk. Swoop, in the distance weathered one more barrage while she made for the next set of hills and trees. In ten more seconds, she would be to them. Then jump jets would make obstacles into instant cover, allowing escape.

It was hopeless. There would be no way anyone could catch up with Swoop, now.

Giving up that chase, Casey turned his attention toward Snarl, whose armor wasn't faring well under the PPC barrage Al served to him. It was accompanied by four small laser beams which had no effect at this range other than to ruin a paint job further. To anyone else, it would appear that Al was making a massive rookie mistake. Casey had become used to it. It was necessary for Al's Warhammer to keep up the speed boost he got from its custom installed Triple Strength Myomer.

A series of flashes on the panoramic monitor briefly caught Casey’s attention. Swoop was briefly engulfed in them. LRM fire? He couldn't tell where it had come from, but the effect was immediate. Swoop stumbled and fell.

That was the break they needed. But, Casey could no longer exploit it.

“No!” A man screamed over the general frequency. “Fine! If I can't run, I'll take down as many of you bastards as I can with me!”

Snarl's Hunchback suddenly wheeled around, heading right at the pursuing mercenaries. Casey became all too aware of just how close he was to the huge gaping maw of the Ultra assault cannon on the Hunchback’s shoulder. Slamming his throttle into reverse, trying to keep the distance open between the two machines. His Griffin skidded to a halt before it started back-pedalling. The cannon was powerful, but because of a monstrous recoil to match its monstrous barrage, it was only effective at really short ranges where it could maintain a shot grouping that could hurt a BattleMech’s armor. Casey didn't want to be in those ranges.

Al, on the other hand, had no such compunction. He sped right by Casey, running his heavy ’Mech towards Snarl, though not directly. The Warhammer's loping run could take it around and behind the Hunchback, keeping it out from under the assault gun's gaze.

Any caution Snarl had about proximity to his enemies had vanished. Snarl ran his Hunchback headlong toward the hot enemy. Both ’Mechs fired on each other as they closed. Both ’Mechs performed defensive dances under the fire, trying to negate the damage. Snarl's cannon belched flame. In addition, both arms extended forward, their fists pointing at their target, each one firing a red laser from the wrists.

The exchange was brutal. Both Al's and Casey's PPCs blackened the untouched front plate on the Hunchback's chest, turning the HUD overlay from a nice green shading to a bright yellow. Casey’s missiles followed immediately after to add more with their combined explosions. The damage was enough, that Snarl's machine staggered. But it recovered in side-stepping dance and kept coming.

The angle didn't allow a good look at Al's front. Casey considered it a good sign his friend didn't stagger as well.

The two closing giants got so close it looked like they might collide. Both ’Mechs fired again. Al's lasers burned from either side of the Warhammer's belly, six red coherent beams reaching up to connect on different parts of the Hunchback's frame as it swayed from side-to-side. Snarl's arms still pointed at his target while the medium lasers replied, catching on different parts of the Warhammer as it ducked and weaved. Then the Ultra belched fire and thunder at about the same time as Casey's LRMs and particle cannon.

The smoke from the launchers clouded his view of the carnage playing out before him. However, he got to watch it all on his HUD, rendered against the gray swirl in front of the bubble canopy in colored outlines and infrared relief.

Both sets of armor went red. Snarl's slowly. Al's surprisingly quick. Both twisted and contorted from the shock of such brutal damage. Still, they remained on their feet. Then it got physical.

Snarl stepped in and whipped out an armored leg, still green. It bounced off the Warhammer's closest shin when Al took a step in. The Warhammer's leg didn't change color.

In fact, the recoil of the light blow almost tripped up the Hunchback. But, it never reached the ground.

In a wide swing, Al whipped in one of the long-barreled PPCs from the side. The adhoc club smashed through the Hunchback's shoulder and embedded itself in the side. This arrested the Hunchback's fall. But, Al didn't waste time. The two were about to go down together, with his arm stuck. Bringing the other arm up and over the stuck one, he pulled back and smashed it into Snarl's chest. The blow freed the stuck arm. It also left a nasty elongated dent all across the Hunchback's gut.

Snarl's machine spun to the ground, landing heavily on its damaged shoulder. The final impact pressed the bad side in, making the ’Mech look unnaturally thin. It slumped and its IR signature faded. Facing catastrophic damage, the fusion engine's failsafe had cut the power.

That fight was over. It had all happened so quickly that the smoke from the LRMs had barely begun to clear.

Casey stopped his Griffin's backward movement, and took a deep breath. That had been way too close.

“I understand your ’Mech’s capabilities," he said. "But, next time, don’t play hero. I taught you better than that.”

“Right,” Al said.

“How you holding up?”

“Only a small breach in my right torso. ECM‘s out.”

Casey brought his crosshairs over his friend's blackened machine, toggling data readouts. Its chest armor was dented and scorched from the beating that could only come from almost four hundred kilos of hot metal and explosives thrown at it in beer-can sized chunks. He zoomed in further on what would have been a Short-Range Missile six-pack suspended over the Warhammer's right shoulder. Casey spotted the gaping hole from a round which successfully penetrated the ’Mech's tough hide. Every now and then, something sparked and puffed burnt electrical smoke.

With a nod to himself, Casey pressed his throttle forward, bringing his Griffin to a run. The mission wasn't over yet. The grounded Swoop hadn't moved in all that time, but she could get up and be running at any moment.

Then he noticed the new BattleMech at the edge of the sensor horizon, striding casually down from a tree-covered hill. Casey instantly Damien’s tan Highlander.

“Took you long enough,” Casey said, sarcastic. “It was you that knocked out Swoop, then?”

“Yup,” Damien said. “Cover me as I check her over.”

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