March 12, 3040
Harlech, Outreach
A hand rapped authoritively on the flimsy door of Han’s quarters, and he looked up from where he had been sightlessly gazing at his steepled fingers as he mulled over his thoughts.
“Come in!” he called, pulling himself upright. Jack, James and Zhou trooped in and without formality took their places at the table.
“So… how bad was it?” Han asked, taking in their weary posture and frustrated faces.
Jack opened his mouth to say something, closed it again and took a deep breath before speaking. “Bad. Better than I expected, but bad.”
James Brenner nodded. “I’ve been drilling them in the simulators as often as I can score open pods to work with. Kevin, Alexander and that Arnaud kid are OK – green, but they’ve been through military training or have had enough time in the field to fake it. Martin and Xidonius though… they’re a problem.”
Zhou leaned forward. “You should see the kid, though. I’m sure he’s never set foot in a Mech before he joined us, but he’s a natural. You show him a move once and he picks it up.”
Han tapped one of the reports in front of him. “But neither he nor Martin can hit the broad side of a barn. In fact, half of the hits they scored were misses that managed to hit something behind the original target by blind luck!”
Jack leaned back in his chair. “So what do you want to do about it? We can send them packing, see if we can find replacements before we ship out. We need something lined up soon though, and employers get antsy when you can’t offer them at least a company to work with.”
Han hesitated for a long moment, then sighed. “No. We got lucky enough getting Arnaud and… Fatima-Luisa, was it? But we’re too new to really attract anyone else with a Mech of their own. There’s plenty of desperate people willing to sign up for the offer of a Mech to pilot, but we don’t have the money to buy extra machines. I’m not sure about sending Martin and Xidonius out how they are now, though.”
Jack rapped his knuckles on the table slowly as he thought. “I understand what you mean, but they’ve volunteered for this. How many civilians are hurt or killed when the wars come to their home? At least these two have a chance to look after themselves.”
James looked at the other officers “We’re pretty evenly split between those with combat experience and those with little or none. Once we’re in the field, we can rotate training through the unit, give everyone a fair chance at some real practice in their Mech, and give the Lances a chance to work together for real.”
“And if we run into a real combat situation before they’re more comfortable in their Mechs?” Han asked softly.
Zhou chuckled a little, sadly. “It’ll be just like the CCAF. The regulars will have to keep an eye on the greenies, but they’ll have to learn it as we go along.”
Heads nodded around the table, and silence descended for a long moment until Han broke it.
“I found a guy I knew when I was in the AFFS – he was surprised I was still alive, but he pointed me in the right direction. We’ve got two offers on the table, both from the Federated Commonwealth. One wants us to help on a raid in the FRR.”
Jack frowned at this, opening his mouth to say something, Han held up his hand quickly. “We’re not ready to face a House military. The other one is more up our alley – they have a pirate that’s not wanting to be stamped out properly, and they’re hiring up a number of mercenary units to reinforce the AFFC regiment on hand dealing with it. The pay and terms are better as well.”
Han flicked on a reader and passed it across to Jack, who read over both contracts thoroughly before passing it on.
“Besides our readiness, I’d rather not fight against my homeland… not unless we have to. I know that my loyalty is to this unit now, but I spent a lot of years fighting to help raise up the Free Rasalhague Republic, and it feels wrong to fight against it now.”
Han nodded. “I understand your point, Jack, and I appreciate your sentiments. There was a time not long ago that it would have been anathema to me to even think about fighting against the Federated Suns… or the Commonwealth for that matter. We have members in this unit from every Successor State, and unless we head out into the Periphery, we’re going to have to fight against someone’s homeland every time.”
Jack made a face. “I know, just don’t expect me to be happy about it if we end up having to fight the KungsArmé someday."
March 16, 2040
Harlech, Outreach
Captain Han Zoku was fairly certain he already detested Count Marcus Cambert. Stuffy, arrogant and safely convinced of his superiority to all those around him due to his birth. If there was any saving grace, he was as much an asshole to the blond, blue eyed and German-accented Major next to him as to himself or the Hispanic Leaguer Captain across the table.
Han forced himself to focus on the drone of the noble’s voice once more. “…Now, as I’m sure you’re well aware, Delevan is only a jump away from New Avalon, and Baron Reinhardt is keen to avoid having to disturb the First Prince with petty concerns such as these pirates. The local Delevan Guards have done a simply smashing job of dealing with the brutes, and met them in pitched battle last month, inflicting heavy damage to their forces.
However, the Guards also took a pounding themselves, and that’s where you lot come in. We need solid fellows such as yourself to give the Delevan Guards some slack to repair damaged units and reorganize. We anticipate that by the end of your contract, the Guards will be ready to push these scum off our beautiful world entirely.”
As if anything is ever that easy. Han thought to himself. However, the pay was good, the enemy looked to be disorganized and weak, and the salvage terms were excellent for a new unit like theirs. When the time came, he signed his name on the contract as the unit commander, and hoped he wasn’t making a big mistake.
Later…
The twelve MechWarriors of the 12th Bay Hammerers, along with the Mech Techs, the lone Logistical Administrator and a Doctor that James had scared up sat around the tables of their impromptu rec room in Bay 12 of the Kappa-7 Repair Facility.
“Ladies and Gentlemen… we have a contract. In ten days, we ship out for Delavan, in the heart of the Federated Suns portion of the Commonwealth. We have a six month contract to hunt down the remnants of pirate raiders that attacked the system a few months ago.”
A cheer went up at the news, and people began to break out the booze as the Hammerers began to celebrate their first contract as a mercenary unit.
March 26th, 2040
Harlech Spaceport, Outreach
The ground shook under their feet, and Han smiled as his Warhammer swayed with each thunderous step. It was a long-running tradition that the Dragoons allowed – Mechs arriving were taken to their stations powered down, but for those leaving to go to war, they left on their feet.
The 12th Bay Hammerers marched in a column by two, the feet of their mechs hammering down in sequence like trip hammers. Zoku kept an eye on his radar and the rear sensors as much as the view ahead, but the unrelenting practice that Brenner had been organizing had paid off, and their Mechs marched in good order, broken only by the far lower silhouette of Kevin’s Scorpion, swaying back and forth with its four-legged movement.
Ahead of them, the mercenary Union DropShip Gladius stood, Mech bays open and ramps waiting for them to ascend. Across the spaceport, similar scenes played out for another two Mech companies, while Triumphs stood ready to embark three armor battalions.
As the bulk of the Union cut off the light, Han smiled to himself, slowing to a cautious walk as he made his way up into the DropShip and towards the waiting bay, guided by a crewman from the ship to the Warhammer’s correct location.
July 20th, 2040
Delevan System
It had been a good few months. The members of the mercenary unit were starting to come together as a team, and while travel was never exciting, there had been more than enough to do as they shook out all the kinks from founding a unit on such short terms and taking every spare moment to train that they could. Now, however, things might become exciting for all the wrong reasons.
The siren continued its low wail in the background, and Han blinked as his eyes adjusted to the red light that had replaced the normal shipboard lights. The DropShip shuddered twice, faintly, and he slapped the intercom. “Captain, what the hell is going on?” he demanded into the speaker.
“Major. What’s happening is we were sold a pack of lies.” Captain Shraddha Pasha said irritably. “When we were hired to transport you, we were told that the pirate air and naval elements had been handled. Well, they’ve been handled so well that we’re detecting 20 plus fighters and five DropShips climbing out of the gravity well to come say hello!”
Han said something in Japanese, paused and then followed up in German a moment later. He heard a chuckle in response. “I’m not sure that aristocratic idiot can even do that, Major, but I’d love to see him try.” Pasha replied in German. She switched back to English a moment later. “We’ve kicked our fighters free and have gone to red alert. We’re going to have to run this blockade. Sensors report a Leopard CV and its fighters are opposing us – we’re lucky enough not to draw the Overlord, at least.”
Han grunted in frustration. “I understand. We’ll stay out from underfoot.”
“Appreciated, Major. Captain Pasha, out.”
Someone finally shut off the alarm, apparently satisfied that everyone was well aware that there was A Problem, which at least made it easy to make his voice heard over the babble.
“Quiet! QUIET!” he roared, and the hubbub stilled. “The pirates have enough naval assets left to put up a fight, and we’re going to have to run the blockade. It’s likely that the DropShip is going to take hits, so all MechWarriors, get to your Mechs and seal up fully. Keep your reactors on low output, and you are expressly forbidden to move your machines. If the Captain needs us to shoot out of the bays, she’ll damn well ask us to. Support personnel, get everything here strapped down for maneuvers, then get into your spacesuits and seal up as well. I don’t want to lose anyone to decompression.”
Order reasserted itself as people moved to their appointed tasks, MechWarriors shrugging on cooling vests and grabbing their neurohelmets as they raced for their machines, while the techs and others worked swiftly to secure loose equipment and seal anything small into the nearest handy container.
As his Warhammer rumbled to life around him, Han contacted the bridge again.
“What is it, Major? We’re busy up here.” Pasha said, less cordially this time, pausing to rap out orders as the engines of the Union-class DropShip thundered to life, acceleration providing the illusion of gravity again.
“Your passengers are getting secured, Captain, but if you can pipe down the tactical feed to our cockpits, it’d make my guys a lot less antsy.” Han requested.
“Fine, fine, now stop bothering me. We have contact in less then a minute.”
She closed the channel without further words, but after a few seconds, the tactical monitors in each Mech lit up with their situation.
The planet was dead ahead, and the Union, which had been pointed away and pulsing its engines in a gradual deceleration was now facing towards it and increasing speed again. Behind it, the twin CSR-V20 Corsairs of the integral fighter flight were flanking the dropship in picture perfect formation.
Coming up from the planet, the pirates were stringing themselves out in their eagerness to engage, with three light fighters forming the vanguard, a medium fighter trailing behind them, followed by two heavy fighters and the ominous form of their carrier dropship.
Tapping commands, Han pulled up information on the lead fighters – two Sparrowhawks and a Centurion. All intended as light space superiority fighters, they didn’t mount the weapons to bother the dropship from the front, but they were quick and agile, and if they got into the DropShip’s aft arc, where the armor around the engines was thin, they could quickly start doing some serious damage.
The DropShip shuddered faintly, and swirls of dots raced outward, speckling one of the Sparrowhawks with LRM fire. Many of them missed the accelerating fighter, but more covered it in rippling explosions. As the three fighters came closer, laser, autocannon and PPC batteries began firing in earnest, and the DropShip heaved as their countering fire superheated armor plates, exploding them away from the DropShip’s frame.
The Gladius lived up to its name though, lasers cleaving through the damaged Sparrowhawk like a blade and sending it spinning away, others finding and ripping into the Centurion. The remaining two light fighters looped around quickly as they passed the DropShip, focused on staying out of its primary weapon arcs, but leaving themselves vulnerable to its escorts.
One of the Corsairs lit up the remaining Sparrowhawk, and as it twists to avoid further punishment, the damage it had taken causes its engines to flare wildly, throwing it into an uncontrolled tumble as the pilot sensibly shuts down the main engines for the moment to avoid smashing himself to death with the g-forces.
Meanwhile, showing his inexperience, the Centurion overshot the Union on his pass, and ended up as the only target of the nose and right-side bays. Cheers echoed over the company comlinks as its symbol winks out almost instantly. Another cloud of long range missiles race out and hammer the oncoming Lightning, a medium fighter intended for knife-fights, with a massive AC/20 in the nose. Explosions rippling across its airframe. To the side, the Sparrowhawk regained control and lit its engine again to rejoin the fight, only to stray into the path of the aft laser array. Another enemy icon winked out, but this time the cheers are cut short as the DropShip heaved and shuddered.
By now, the rest of the pirate fighters and the Leopard were coming into range. While the Lightning made a close pass with its monsterous AC/20, an Eagle fired from further off with Large Lasers and the heavy Thunderbird and Leopard CV contributed long-range missiles to the assault. With so many targets, the Gladius splits its fire, tagging the Lightning, Eagle and Thunderbird with various weapons. The Corsairs were also busy, chasing after the Lightning and savaging it with their large lasers.
The two heavy fighters came into laser range and began firing their impressive weapon arrays, savaging the nose and sides of the dropship, but taking their own licks in return. The Leopard was slowly coming into range as well, still firing long range missiles as it approached.
Han’s eyes were drawn to the symbol for the Thunderbird as it spiked on the thermal sensors and went ballistic, the massive strike it had made apparently too much for its systems. As the two DropShips closed, the Union rolled in one direction before slewing in the other as hard as its frame could stand. The Leopard reacted to the first motion and turned away, realizing too late that they were tricked, their speed now a liability as they sailed directly away from their target and the planet they were guarding.
The fighters continued to dogfight around the Union, the pirates maneuvering to try for its vulnerable rear arcs, and the Corsairs working hard to keep them away. The Thunderbird quickly rejoined the fight, firing with a bit more care this time, and a whoop sounded over the channel as a large laser slashed through a door, depressurizing the bay and nearly taking the head off of Martin’s Shadow Hawk. “Holy shit, guys!”
“You always were a lucky bastard, Martin.” Alexander said with a laugh.
“And that’s why we’re sealed up in the mechs, folks. Depressurization’s a nasty thing.” Lieutenant Brenner reminded his lance.
Damage to the Eagle sent it careening, exacerbated by one of the Corsairs following after, lasers cutting deep into its aft. The other Corsair staying tucked in tight behind the Thunderbird, blazing away with lasers and short range missiles alike.
A warning sounded, and Han eyed the status display for the DropShip. The last alpha strike from the Thunderbird had shut it down again, but not before the last armor around the DropShip engines was torn to pieces. Any further hits were going to give them major problems, but the symbol for the Lightning disappeared as the DropShip’s crack gun crews found its range and blew it to pieces.
The Thunderbird flew past the DropShip as it finished restarting again, its antagonist blazing away from spitting distance in stellar terms, and chunks of the heavy AeroSpace fighter tumbled away. Far behind, the damaged Eagle finally regained control and began its turn to catch up, the Leopard was finally managing to start closing the distance.
The Thunderbird finally started trying to fight back against the Corsairs, but the nimble fighters evaded most of its shots, striking back with impunity. The Gladius turned as it began a combat atmospheric reentry, the tattered armor in its aft just enough to keep the heat of their passage from damaging the ship, and the Leopard shied away from trying to fight the Union-class Dropship from the front, accepting its defeat and maneuvering to allow the Eagle to dock as the Corsairs scored the final kill of the encounter, destroying the crippled Thunderbird before following their mothership down into the atmosphere.
Han released his held breath as the DropShip rumbled with reentry. “Well, everyone, now it’s our turn. Combat deployment as soon as we hit ground, if they fucked up this information by the numbers, I want us to be prepared for any other surprises.”
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Topic: Let's Play MegaMek (Against the Bot campaign) (Read 74970 times)