Operation Flyswatter
Anti-Rimword Periphery
Stettin System
Rat’s Maze Marshes
1 May 2950
Following two brief years of relative peace, war once again opened its ugly jaws to envelope the populations of the Inner Sphere and Periphery in its brutal grasp. Now in its eighty-fourth year, the Third Succession War continues the long downward spiral of destruction and devastation as the powerful leaders of the five Great Houses continue to dream of being the next First Lord of the Star League. But unlike its two predecessors the First and Second Succession Wars which lasted a combined seventy years and resulted in entire populations being brutally wiped out and the loss of massive amounts of technological capabilities and knowledge, this war is a less intense affair. Often, but not always, governed by the Ares Conventions, the Third Succession War is a war of attrition being waged by already exhausted nations. Exhausted, but certainly no less willing to continue the fight.
With loyal House forces ever stretched thin or engaged in key missions and the most important theaters of war, the great House lords often turn to mercenaries to take on those tasks that might be riskier, less important but still necessary, or need a certain amount of deniability. For those with the means and willingness to pay, there is always someone willing to take on such things. So it is with the Company.
A mercenary's life is certainly not easy. Any given day could be one’s last. A mechwarrior strides into battle piloting the mightiest machines of war ever created by humanity. Fusion powered behemoths the smallest of which could still reduce a city to rubble in a matter of hours. Artificial lightning, roaring autocannons, and volley after volley of pummeling missiles are the mechwarrior’s tools of trade. Tools held in the hands of just as capable enemies. Survival is never guaranteed in the mercenary trade. But it beats being stooped in a field picking radishes or hiding, shivering helplessly in the dark during yet another enemy raid.
As the pilot of your own mighty Battlemech, your fate is in your hands. Together with your comrades in the Company you each seek glory, honor, riches, fame, revenge or just a way of life that lets you see the stars and maybe make a difference somewhere to someone.
It came together quickly. A chance meeting. A few drinks. Jokes suddenly turned into real suggestions and opportunities. Opportunity that quickly turned into reality along the distant outages of known space.
Following a series of highly effective bandit raids all along the anti-spinward borders of the Lyran Commonwealth, Free Worlds League, and the Magistracy of Canopus the three powers attempted to temporarily put aside their usual differences and struggles to deal with the pirate threat knocking at their back doors. Initial efforts at such a diplomatic challenge failed utterly, especially with the Lyran’s still up in arms regarding Free Worlds moles within the highest branches of their military.
Unwilling to completely give up, Magistrix Selene Centrella, who still grieves over the loss of her sister to pirate raiders, conceived and initiated Operation Flyswatter. Financed by various elements of all three powers, but relying completely on cheap mercenary units, the operation is envisioned as a multi-pronged raid on several known pirate worlds. The task is simple. Engage and destroy as many bandit owned mechs and their identified support infrastructure as possible. Teach them that although the great powers may be busy growling and barking at each other, they are quite capable of turning and biting at anything stupid enough to yank their tails.
The Company fit the needs of Operation Flyswatter perfectly. A reinforced, over tonnage light lance perfect for quick raids and carrying off salvage. A need for cash. Or at least one pilot with a burning hatred of pirates equal to that of the Canopian leadership. T’s were crossed, i’s dotted, and signatures authorized. A few weeks later the company had its orders in hand. Signed and authorized by Canopian Liason officer, Captain Marsha Vikkhas. The jumpship Glory’s Crossing jumped you into a distant star system at the back end of nowhere.
The rattle and rumble of the Leopard’s drives were constant companions on the three day long trip in system. The dropship acquired on the cheap, no questions asked, from a more than questionable dealer on Solaris VII was ancient, but the old bird could still fly. Plus, already having most of the weapon bays and aerospace hangars gutted made fitting it out to hold two additional light mechs that much easier and cheaper.
Slowly the on-screen images of your destination grew. Stettin. More specifically, Stettin III, the only habitable planet circling a MV2 red dwarf star. Surprisingly, the ball of mud is a fairly pleasant place. Ample oceans and water provide plenty of moisture for the vast temperate forests that cover much of the main continent. Previously colonized sometime around the founding of the Star League, the system was once considered part of the Rim Commonality and the Free Worlds League before vanishing from most maps near the beginning of the Third Succession War. The last known outside contact with the inhabitants of Stettin III was in 2864 when a minor garrison of the Third Free Worlds Guards still maintained a presence. The force was pulled out with the end of the Second Succession War later that year and the FWL never returned.
Intelligence operations traced the activities of a minor pirate band calling themselves Hector’s Hellions back to Stettin III following the recent raids of Free Worlds and Canopian space. Initial scans identified the probable locations of the raider camps including within what records indicate would be the former colony capital.
Your orders from Captain Vikkhas are to scout the second location while the Golden Janissaires, a heavy mech outfit accompanying the mission to Stettin, hit the colony capital. A heavily forested and marshy area referred to as the Rat’s Maze Marsh surrounding what appears to have once been a minor space port and timber harvesting operation.
”Far as the powers that be are concerned, this whole system is hostile.” Captain Vikkhas announces from the bridge of the Janissaries larger Union class dropship as each of you debark from the Leopard in the only patch of solid, clear ground within a dozen klicks of the Beta target destination. ”Records of the Hellion’s previous raids suggest the unit consists of a few heavy’s and mediums supported by two light lances. We expect the heaviest resistance at target Alpha. But if you find anything in those swamps, you’re authorized to wipe them out.”
The idea that Lapeidra Apolonia, ten years on from having been one of the most recognizable faces in the Magistracy if not the Periphery, would need a benefactor seemed absurd on its face. She had money, and lots of it. More than she knew what to do with or could spend in ten lifetimes. Or so she thought. But it turned out that the band's revenues were funneled through a holding company, from which she received monthly stipend an the rest was moved into a personal trust.
Almost immediately following the tragic deaths of her band mates and managers, the holding company was dissolved by a team of corporate lawyers who claimed she had no more rights to it. The stipend continued until she turned eighteen, and then Lapeidra was on her own. She enrolled in the Academy the same day. Her arrangement was generous; in exchange for plastering her name and likeness all over their recruitment campaigns she received free tuition, but that didn't cover expenses, and she soon learned that there were dangerous people with bad intentions who now had access to her.
One such unsavory individual was Aurelius von Steinchen, or "Big Rock" as he liked to go by in his seedy industry. Lapeidra was no prude, to be sure. Hell, she'd done it all, but always by choice and on her terms. But somehow Aurelius had come to possess a share of the rights to her intellectual property, which further confused the legal dynamics surrounding her trust, if it even still existed.
As she had done for the past ten years she took the problem head on, confronting Aurelius and finding, to her surprise, that he was someone she could work with. He had some money and covered her expenses and even managed to pry sufficient funds out of the trust for her to acquire a battlemech of her own following graduation from the Academy. He connected her with various small merc outfits while she further developed her skills in live fire skirmishes, and eventually, they agreed to work together formally, along with a few other misfit toys from the galaxy's collection, and the Company came to be.
That was then, and this is now...
Deigon had spent most of his nights sauced, with dark memories of past battle. Not a night passed when he didn’t reflect on a situation that ended in someone, he caried about, meeting their end. Yet, with all the heartache, he still itched to get back in the pilot’s seat. The idea of sitting around rotting with age simply didn’t sit well with him. While staring aimlessly at the lawn-ornament that House Steiner gave him as a parting gift, his mind would wonder into the realm of possibilities. “I wonder” He said out load just before walking over to a workbench that had many of his tools laying across it. After looking back over his shoulder at the mech one more time, he reached down and picked up an air compression tool, and then walked over to the mech. “It’s time to see what this little guy can do.”
More than a few months had passed since Deigon had decided to throw his hat back in the preverbal ring again. With a little luck he had managed to get the old D2 Commando up and running again, at least well enough to take it out for a spin. Now he seemed more focused on finding a use for it. After a late lunch with one of his old buddies from his previous unit, he learned that a merc group was looking for pilots. Although the idea of running with a bunch of weekend warriors lent some concern about their combat readiness, he had decided that the need outweighed the risk and agreed to take up a spot with his hunk of s@&! Commando. At least for as long as he could keep it running.
The Unit’s rusty old drop ship had been wors off than any Gunny had experienced before. It was a mystery how the trashcan could even fly, yet here he was bouncing around the stars with a rag tag group of pilots, looking for trouble. Luckily, a couple of the pilots he had seen around and new that they at least understood the basics.
Gunny spent most the trip trying to dial in the commando. He know even the mildest mission would tax the old mech. It seemed like every time he managed to fix one problem another would present itself. Steiner sure didn’t do him any favors by gifting him the old bucket of bolts. “S#**!” His loud voice echoed across the bay followed by a socket wrench slamming into the side of the stall. “This damn thing is never going to cut it.” The words of reason, directed at no one in particular, mostly went unanswered as he double downed on whatever task he was working on. After a few moments of silence, a burst of electrical energy filled the room, sending him hurling across the room with scorch marks across his face. “Jesus.” he stated while half propped up against the wall. After taking a moment to recover from the blast, he fished out a half-smoked cigar, dusted it off, and then tried to light it. “I know, no smoking on the damn ship.” He half complained to know one.
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'Ah drek, I really gotta get time to look at Gunny's Comando,' Jack thought for the umpteenth time as he strode about the mucky-muck in his Phoenix Hawk, the White Angel. There just hadn't been time before. He had put every ounce of sweat and time given to him just to make sure that truly ancient Leopard didn't fall apart at the first sign of hitting atmo.
Maybe they'd luck out and get enough salvage to put everything to right, though. Hey, a man could dream.
*Did any of you guys see the Warhammer the Janissaires have? Oh man, what a beauty! They wouldn't let me within 20 meters of that thing and all I wanted to do was touch it. And climb inside it. And maybe take it all apart and put it back together. And they wouldn't let me! Fragging trogs, the lot of them!*
Jack adjusts the air-conditioning to provide maximum cooling power, while also not drawing too much juice. It's the little things that can help an aging 'Mech stay on their foot actuators.
*Alrighty, gang. We're not supposed to run into any opposition, but stay frosty. I'll try to jump around a bit and get a better idea of what all this vegetation might be hiding."
True to his word, as soon as he's clear of the landing zone, he jazzes the jets and gets some altitude, trying to use the height to run a better scan of the area.
From the minute the Mech hit the ground it started acting up. Deigon new beyond any doubt that he was at a heavy disadvantage as soon as he heard wine of the Mech’s undersized engine. “Common you bucket of bolts. Hold up.” He said out loud in hopes that the machine might actually respond to some Simi-positive motivation.
The Commando’s engine squealed loud enough that it could actually be heard through the other Mech’s cockpits. Although the small Commando was able to take its place next to the others, it struggled heavily to do so. This caused Gunny to have to compensate for its stubborn movement by forcing it into a run just to keep up. The undo Burdon on Mech’s engine was more than apparent as it squealed loudly with every forced move.
Gunny reached over and activated his local com, changed its channel to the crew’s pre-designated channel, and then began to transmit. ‘Well folks, I can’t say this scrap heap is going to hold up, but I'm going to give it my best. Apologies for the unexpected engine squeal. Not much I can do about it at this point. It’s safe to say that everyone and their brother probably know we are here.” With each squeal the Mech sounded like it was simply going to explode.
With the heat rising in the cockpit, Gunny decided to settle in, fire up a fresh cigar, and accept the situation for what it was.
The Leopard had either not been christened or was so old that its name no longer existed on any surviving registry. Lapeidra smirked while considering that hitting the nose of the craft with a bottle of cheap bubbly would probably compromise the hull irreparably. Once they set down perhaps she could step outside her Panther and scrawl something in bright red lipstick on the nose, like a kiss.
Gunny might be partial to Litterbox or maybe Gumweld. But she preferred something with a little more style, and it was a Leopard after all, a cat on the last of her nine lives.
As it threatened to shake apart on entry into Stettin III's atmosphere, Lapeidra ventured to the rest of the crew: "If we die in the ship she should at least have a name, something the news feed can broadcast, like Crew of the such-and-such met a fiery end when the ship exploded... I was thinking we could call her the Last of Nine, as in, she's used up all of her lives. Whaddaya think?"
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*Oh man, Gunny, that sounds pretty bad,* Jack commed over the noise of not only the Commando, but also his own jumpjets. *Remind when we get back to base. It might be that your schlonpoofer has a bad knutenvalve. I can replace that easy. Or maybe your gamma wave collectors are inverted. The I could just flip the vacuum drive quantum shift flipper.
It won't fix your Weak Engine, but it might take some of the noise off.
And yeah, we're giant robots stomping around virgin vegetation. No worries about stealth.
I like how you're thinking, Lape. It's good to name things.
Also, when they talk about who died in the great and fiery crash of the Last of Nine, it shouldn't just be 'Some jackasses that no one cares about'. We should have a cool name to our Merc company.
How about something awesome like ManOWar? Our tagline could be, 'Other companies play, ManOWar kills!'
On second thought, nah. We're awesome, but we're not _that_ awesome.
How about The Stormhammers?*
Lloyd has never been a big fan of DropShips in atmosphere. Oh, sure, the tech is cool enough, but it's a lot harder to forget that he's hurtling through the air with only a bit of metal between him and a toss-up between what would kill him first when the ship is bucking from entering atmosphere than when it's just accelerating in space.
He'd done his best to keep himself distracted by going over the mission info--again--and fiddling with the sensors on his Wasp--again--but it hadn't really helped. So his nerves were not exactly settled when their Leopard finally made a landing.
"Last of Nine sounds a little... unoptimistic?" Lloyd replies to Lapeidra's suggestion. "I'd rather just go with Nine Lives and leave it open to interpretation how many are left. If we do well we might be breathing some life back into it, right?"
He winces just a little at Deigon's Commando's... sonic issues, but consoles himself with the fact that infrared would pick them up at longer ranges than someone would be hearing this.
It's not a very comforting thought.
"All right, let's see if anyone's coming to see what the DropShip dragged in," he mutters to himself, turning his attention to his sensors.
Distractedly he responds to Jack. "If we're going with a feline theme with the ship, maybe we should continue it with the company? If we can *find* a cat name that's not taken, of course..."
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Jack cross-references his scanner-code with Flints to make sure they're both seeing the same thing.
*Meh. I thought about that. The cat name is, I think, because the ship is Leopard-class. Makes sense. But then, yeah, since everyone who can tape a gun to a car has made a merc outfit that's transported by a Leopard, then I think all the good cat-themed names of companies will have long since been used.
I'd call it "The Ship That Will Definitely Not Explode The Next Time It Tries Make Escape Velocity" if I thought that would help.*
Lapeidra smiles at Lloyd. It's nice to be engaged on such things. "Nine Lives is the obvious choice because it goes straight to the heart of the metaphor. When I write music lyrics or poetry, I try to find a new way to say something, to sing around the root idea and give the listener something to think about. It creates a personal connection between the artist and the individual on the other end. Last of Nine... Last of nine what? Could be anything until you stop to consider what the thing is. It feels good to solve the riddle, like you're on the inside now.
"And as you say, Nine Lives might also suggest we have a few left to burn, but I wouldn't bet on that."
"I'm what?!"
Charly looked at the others her mouth hanging open as she tries to wrap her head around what she'd just been told. The rumble of the ancient Leopard's engines filled the hold's silence as it lifted off from Rylo IX and left behind a half-destroyed base with her previous unit's only operational mech and its newly minted pilot.
"Please tell me this is a joke on the greenhorn," she begs the rest of the mechwarriors, but the looks on their faces send her heart plummeting back to the planet below.
Of course the receivers were the only thing that worked in her mech after the company landed. Her Wasp had never been in the best of shape even before her baptism by fire. Whatever salvage they had picked up from that fight had gone into modifying their dropship to handle six mechs and fixing her mech up. The beat up mech hadn't even been given the dignity of a fresh coat of paint.
Of course, she hadn't been given the chance to oversee repairs herself, seeing as she had been stuck in simulators the whole time learning how to not just pilot the mech, but actually fight it. Thankfully she's a quick learner, but quick doesn't mean instantaneous. It still takes time for her to learn and develop new skills and apply her knowledge.
All of which meant that Jack had been in charge of overseeing repairs, and if the apparent quality of them and his babbling are any indication, there is a dang good reason not to let him near a dull spoon, much less a mech weighing decatons. She growls as she kicks some life into the stiff-limbed mech and finally got her systems fully online.
"Finally!"
Her frustrated, yet triumphant cry, crackles over the company's comms channel. Her icon hustles to take up her position in the formation.
"Uh, sorry. I had some trouble getting this battered bucket to actually move," she explains before jumping into the conversation. "And yeah, that Leopard is on her last legs. Maybe we'll get lucky and the pirates will have one we can 'borrow' after we ask nicely."
Ok grand uncle I am supposed to do what? Pirate hunting in the periphery? Ok sounds good. One of my lance mates was in a Canopian girl band? How the flying f~@+? Marcus "Meatbag" von Steinchen thought as he received a comstar missive from his grand uncle. Fabolousy rich, and also generally fabulous, Aurelius Big Rock von Steinchen has thought him much about card games before he entere the Nagelring, and was indeed a bit of an influence on his live and outlook.
Not too long later he found himself in an "aging Leopard", which was, if he remembered correctly, also the name of one of his grand uncles eary works for specific segment of tastes, much before he actually got famous with his smash hits "ROCK HARD ATLAS" and "Cupid with a PPC" followed by "Steiner scoutlance of my heart", as well as "Big Rock der Atlas-Aufklärer", a bit of a play on the fact that the German word for Reconaissance, "Aufklärung" also means "tell people how human procreation works". There was a slight scandal when some Bees got into the cockpit of the Atlas, during an in cockpit sex scene, which resulted in a fair bit of property damage on set, but the world of mouth propaganda more then canceled out the slight loss of C-Bills incurred.
His Lancemates were thankfully coming up with far superior nicknames.
So, I am a von Steinchen, an pirate intel may know we are an overweight Light Lance. Lets mindf%~~ them a bit and put my resources to use by making them think we are a "Overweight Light Lance" instead!
If I learned one thing from being good at card games its that you never want your enemy to actually know what you have.
Stettin III
Rat’s Maze Marshes
1 May 2950
Rain splatters against cockpit screens while branches, some more than a foot or two thick, slap, crack, and break against the hard steel alloy armor of a half dozen mechs making their way through the dense forest. The airwaves crackle and hiss with static as the seemingly perpetual downpour creates just enough interference to be bothersome but not completely hindering to local comms. The nails-on-a-chalkboard piercing from Gunny’s Commando is way more distracting than a bit of comms crackle.
After a few long minutes attempting to navigate the rough terrain, everyone gains a clear understanding why this stretch of trouble was named the Rat’s Maze. Massive conifers, some a good thirty paces wide at their base, cover a series of ridges and valleys that capture and collect the constant runoff to funnel south toward the Sea of Storms. The valleys are a mass of bogs that grab and claw at a mech with every step while the ridges host numerous swift moving streams that could send an incautious pilot sliding a few hundred feet to slam into some tree or rocky mass that even a battlemech’s heavy armor couldn’t withstand completely.
So it is that the banter regarding names for dropships and this newly formed mercenary endeavor is occasionally interrupted with a hurried curse or clatter of metal slamming into wood as someone slightly misjudges their mech footing or sinks too deep in the muck after a jump and needs to claw their way free.
Despite the natural barriers, progress is made. None among this newly formed company of mechwarriors are complete greenhorns in the cockpit, so no permanent damage is done. But the tech crews are going to have a helluva time getting needles and mud clearer from all the actuator joints.
As the utterly outdated and relatively useless maps indicate target point Beta within a half dozen clicks, Jack and Lloyd start to work their sensors to get early eyes on the target and locate any hidden surprises. Using the power jets mounted on the back of the PHX-1 Phoenix Hawk, Jack manages to catch a glimpse of the ancient space port as the company tops the final ridge that then drops into the main valley of the town noted as Cedarville on the old map.
The view is brief, but the Phoenix Hawk pilot is able to catch a glimpse of at least one Battlemech standing watch near the remnants of an old set of warehouses along the nearest perimeter of the old spaceport and surrounding city.
Focusing less on visual imaging and thermal sweeps, Lloyd flips his T&T over to the magnetic anomaly and motion suite. At first everything comes up blank, a few trace iron and copper deposits close to the surface, but nothing of real substance or worry. But a moment later as his nimble Wasp strides past a grove of massive ancient cedar trees, his HUD flickers and three unknown potential threats are quickly labeled by his onboard systems. Still well out of the range of his Diverse Optics Type 2 medium laser, there isn’t much to be done at the moment except try to further identify what are currently just yellow warning boxes on his display.
With Lloyd and Jack trying to pin down what might be lurking within the ruins, Markus flips the switch on his IFF spoofer. The Comm-Shack dealer promised that it was a top of the line unit preprogrammed with over a hundred different unit signals and a full database of existing mech classifications. At first it appears the spoofer was working like a charm. Markus’ own HUD suddenly shows his lancemates sporting the sweeping horsehead symbol of the 16th Lyran Guards over their mechs also outlined in friendly Steiner blue. Even better the two Wasps now registered as heavier BJ-1 Blackjacks while his own Phoenix Hawk now displayed the size and loadout of the recently mentioned Warhammer.
Unable to express a chuckle of delight at the ruse, the laughter quickly turns to a snarl as the unit unleashes a flurry of sparks causing his entire display to flicker and reality to once again fill the screen. Slapping the sparks from his bare legs, Markus expertly gives the misbehaving unit a strong smack that seems to remind it who is the one with the noble blood coursing through their veins. A pause. A final spark and the false images flicker back into place.
Possessing the Magistracy's culturally-impregnated prurient nature, Lapeidra spent an inordinate amount of time in the Glory's Crossing's small and minimally appointed rec room reviewing von Steinchen's cinematic climaxes. It was a lot of the old in-out, in-out, but a few titles clearly had a budget for things like character motivation (have sex), linear plot (lead up to sex), hair, makeup, lighting, and multiple camera angles (better looking sex). Von Steinchen was typically up for whatever challenge was laid before him, and was capable of a gratuitous finish that disgusted most female viewers.
Lapeidra would occasionally disappear to some hidden corner of the ship to "organize her notes" but was continually mindful that professionalism is key to survival on the battlefield, and at the end of the day this was a team of mercenary bastards and she was happy to be one of them.
The Panther moved easily down the gangway from the Last of Nine to the overgrown surface of Stettin III. Lapeidra continued to perform system checks while sensor sweeps were performed by others. She knew there was a ghost in the targeting computer but all efforts to eliminate it had so far failed. Hopefully it would not cause problems.
Once they get into sensor range with visual confirmation, she flips on her own sensor array for target acquisition and primes the PPC.
"Nice work with those mech overlays, Markus. That should give them pause. Anyone ID the makes on the enemy mechs?"
"Not yet. Working on it," Lloyd replies briefly to Lapeidra's question.
There's something soothing about focusing on his sensors, trying to tease out more information from the flickering readouts. He can almost forget that a good hit to his cockpit would kill him instead of just kick him out of the sim right now.
"May not have noticed we're here yet, if they don't have anyone good with their sensors. Hold the range open for a bit and flank them?" He suggests to the others.
He turns his Wasp aside slightly, aiming to circle around their target a bit before closing further. In addition to the tactical advantages of flanking... his Wasp should not be the first target the enemy saw. That would not be a good way to stay alive.
He continues trying to refine his sensor contacts as he moves, hoping to at least get a general weight class out of the data.
Charly nods as she listens to Lloyd.
"Sounds like a plan to me. Two of use form the pincers and the rest the anvil? Maybe we can catch them in a crossfire."
As she talks, she coaxes her sensors to give her a better lay of the land. What she wants is a spot that hides her and gives her easy access to cover while giving her a clear field of fire. She'd like two of them, but she knows that she'll be luck to find one in this rat's nest of a swamp.
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'Well, -do- I have an ID on a mech?' Jack thinks.
It was only a glimpse, but, to him, 'mechs are so distinct he should be able to a name to whatever silhouette he caught.
Was it the elegant, almost feminine lines of a Stinger? The squat, trash-can look of an Urbie? The stout-but-masculine stance of a Wolverine? Was there the tell-tale shoulder mounts of a Griffin or Hunchback? If it was a Commando, that'd be easy--he's been staring at, and listening to, one for awhile now. Or was it a Commando's playmate, a Javelin?
If it was fast and sleek, but also bulky and deadly, then it might be an Assassin! Oooo! He'd always wanted to see one in person, but those things are so rare he doubted he ever would. Of course that's also a way to describe a Clint.
Jack un-sleeps his trusty Noteputer in its combat-worthy mount and runs his Mech Recognition Program #3 to help his memory.
With the occasional billow of smoke, from his cigar, filling the cockpit, Gunny fills right at home with the idea of combat. “It’s been a while, but man am I looking forward to this shindig.” He comments out loud. After glancing over at his sensors, he takes a moment to try and sort out the anomaly that seems to be taking place. Once he figures out what’s going on, he sits back and takes a big drag on his cigar. “I’ll be damn. That’s some fine mage craft. If I didn’t know any better, I would say we are now a heavy lance.” He comments, again with no reply.
Have lance? Nah, just some traditional Steiner recon! Now, lets do that scouting appropriately! Steiner Scout lance focus fire on the first hostile we see! I am keeping my large laser trained on the sensor spot.
"Heimlichkeit ist optional!"
In the absence of immediate leadership, Lapeidra falls back on training, looking for high ground from which she can maximize the primary asset of the Panther, its devastating PPC.
"Moving into the sniper nest!"
As she says it, her mind automatically puts the words to song...
The scales of justice weigh your fate,
On this field we desecrate.
Moving into the sniper nest,
Your death by fire I will manifest.
Anyone listening to her thoughts would not recognize her from the bubbly teen she once was. A lot had changed in ten years.
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Jack is suddenly motivated by von Steinchen motivating speach into doing some very stealthy and very serious scouting.
He adeptly brings his Hawk in line with Gunny.
"Alright Gunny, it looks like our Panther is gonna do some heavy scouting on their panther. When that happens, the two of us are gonna advance quickly and focus-fire down the bandits one at a time.
Both of us are better are short-range anyway.
Lemme line up an opening shot."
Jack tries to angle to get next to a good tree to both hide behind and line up his first Large Laser shot.
In anticipation of the coming fight, his blood begins to rise.
'We are high atop a mountain,
with hammers in the wind,
Lusting for blood and death again.'
Keeping his mech in step with Jack, Gunny picks up the pace. With a free hand he keys his mic and acknowledges Jack’s transmission. “That’s a good copy Mr. powers. Weapons are hot and ready to fire. Call out your target and it will be mine as well.”
With a little effort Gunny is able to get the old Commando up to speed and combat ready.
Charly highlights a duo of good positions just within the confines of the forest on a low rise that still overlooks the bulk of the old spaceport from range. Jack starts to move forward, weaving his nimble Phoenix Hawk through the heavy forest in order to get a better view of the opposing forces from the cover of the trees.
Meanwhile, having spent many an evening listening to the boisterous stories of his grand uncle whenever the pompous old goat visited the academy. Of course, most of the stories were mere fabrication or overly exaggerated. If they were all actually true then Archon Marco Steiner would be First Lord now and the war would have been over years ago. Reality is often a harsh mistress for the nobility.
Still the old man's tales were always good for one thing at the very least. They could inspire. Inspire cadets to study hard and play harder. Inspire commoners to keep listening and not rebel (most of the time). And most of inspire that patriotic nerve lingering in every mechwarrior to push on and push ahead despite all the odds because country and kin were with you all the way.
While patriotism wasn't much of a motivator for his new companions, living, winning, and getting a bit of the salvage rights certainly was. And so his words fill the combat frequency as Lapeidra, Gunny, the others slip forward through the trees.
Lapeidra and Lloyd engage their suite of targeting systems within their respective mechs. Lapeidra has trouble penetrating the standard static and interference thrown up by the enemy. As she closes on the pirate Panther's position her targeting reticle blinks back and forth between yellow and red as it struggles to get a lock.
Lloyd punches through the interference and gets a solid ID on the the three enemy positions surrounding the spaceport facility. The sensor jockey quickly passes the info on the JR7-D Jenner tucked behind the old office tower just north of the field to his fellows. Along with a warning about the GRF-1N Griffin on the far side of the port along with what looks to be a speedy little Locust stalking the heavier mech's flank.
Gunny starts to slip forward along with Jack and Lapiedra, but controlling the persnickety Commando is not easy. The grinding actuator along occasionally causes the leg to stutter step like an old man dragging a leg. The trouble leaves the Commando out in the open for longer than its pilot would prefer. Fortunately he's still beyond the range of the pirates, but that could change at any moment.
With all the income scan warnings and alarm ringing in their cockpits, the pirate lance sends forth it's own sensor probes to better determine what is coming their way. Initial cries of alarm fill the radio waves as their screens fill with icon after icon featuring the logo of the 16th Lyran Guards and a pair of Phoenix Hawks backed by a heavier Shadow Hawk and Griffin. Markus' ruse. But with all of their attention now focused on the incoming squad, the pirate's own sensor wizards try to break through the standard interference and really pin down what's heading their way. At the same time the spoofer unit starts to crackle in the noble scion's cabin once again.
GM Fate Points: 6/6
"Jenner, Panther, Griffon, Locust, in rough order of distance," Lloyd reports to the others as he works his sensors.
He's in his element here, jumping frequencies and sensor types as he sifts the returns for nuggets of real data. He catches the enemy trying to do the same, and starts trying to jam their scans.
His focus is broken when he realizes he'd nearly walked into one of the largest of the big trees in the forest, and the enemy slips past his jamming attempt.
"They're going to figure us out soon," he reports. "Target priorities? I say Jenner first. Focus it down fast, reduce enemy firepower."
He's in no rush to get into range--his Wasp is ill-suited for the front lines, after all. Instead of drawing closer Lloyd circles around to the right, aiming for a flanking position.
Charly sees Lloyd circling around and moves to do the say, but going the other direction.
"Take out the Jenner, then try to draw out one of the others," Charly suggests, hoping that they could nail the enemy one at a time. That would make things very simple, and easy.
"Whatever we decide, we should move up together. No since in making it easy for them to pick us off one at a time."
"The Jenner will melt down if it tries to engage with all of its lasers more than once. I'm more worried about the PPCs we're facing," Lapeidra replies while she primes her own massive energy weapon for a shot.
Walk 4, enter Zone 4
Her Panther struts into range of the identical mech on the other side, and she raises her massive robotic arm and aims the weapon.
"Eat plasma, scumbag!"
It was her best shot, but there are things an enemy pilot can do even when bullseyed.
"That Griffin is gonna be trouble, but my instructor Riley Reid back at the Academy would say they are prone to a Mysterious Power Drain."
Well out of range of his close quarter weapons and struggling with his Mech’s engine, Gunny puts everything he has into keeping the little Mech agile. Between the limitations of the Mech and the slippery terrane, it takes every ounce of focus he has to keep up with Jack and his Phoenix Hawk.
I am out of range, but the buggers dont neccessarily know this! I am totally a Star leauge Mech with SLDF era super large lasers yesyes! Ill try to chase the bugger into your PPC Lady Victory Lap!
Meatbag walks into -5 and opens up with his large laser in a supporting function.
Markus seeks to startle the foe into bumbling into the PPCs firing path
"Hey'ya, boss man." The ratty transmission crackles across an open frequency. "Me an' mine didn't sign up fer brawlin' with Lyran Regs. When we pullin' out."
"The hell you drawling about, Rayray." Replies the gruff, gravely voice of a man who's smoked since first drawing breath out of the womb. "Don't make sense for them to be droppin on the likes of us. Hold on now."
Everyone's target alarms suddenly chime warnings as one of the pirates bust's completely through Lloyd's interference and Markus' IFF spoof.
"Rayray, you hold your ground ya hear. That ain't no Steiner Home Guard it's just another rabble of merc's. Didn't think the big boys would want to git their own hands dirty scrapping with us. Now let's..."
"Uh boss...yer broadcasting on an open channel" Another voice. Female. Calm. Even through filtered through the cold static filled flatness of the comm unit one can see the rolling eyes and feel the scorn directed toward her 'superior' officer.
"What?! Ah...fer the love of...Rayray! You live through this I'm gonna skin you myself."
The channel goes dead as Lloyd and Charly flank out at distance in an effort to both stay out of range of the enemy weapons and maybe draw one of the pirates into a reckless move.
Slinking his Wasp along the tree line, Lloyd manages to get a pretty solid angle on both the Panther and the Jenner lurking in the remains of the spaceport's outer buildings. Working in the opposite direction, Charly finds greater success on a little tree covered rise. These aren't the giant behemoth's of the deeper woods, but the younger, scrub trees do provide a bit of cover while at the same time leaving the view open to get a clear shot at either of the two closest enemy mechs.
Lapeidra strides forward and sends a blast of man-made lightning toward her pirate doppelganger. The blast carves an eerie trail of vaporized rain along its path. The shot nearly strikes, but the pirate just manages to duck behind the wall of the former control tower for the spaceport. Chunks of old ferrocrete are blasted into dust and rubble, but the enemy Panther is unscathed. The remainder of the PPC charge continues on to crackle past the waiting Griffin. Having spent most of its destructive power on the ancient building, the PPC does manage to disrupt several circuits within the aging pirate mech.
Concentrating on keeping his underpowered Mech in line with Jack, Gunny pushes the little Commando as hard as he dares. The heat in the cockpit rises to mix with the cigar smoke and sweat as the card player hopes he isn't drawing to an inside straight as he follows the Phoenix Hawk into the fray.
Markus works his way behind Lapeidra and does his best to provide covering fire to keep the enemy Panther and its matching PPC pinned down. For a few moments, the enemy pilot keeps his head safely tucked behind the barrier, but soon realizes he is still well out of range of Meatbag's large laser.
Distracted by the duo of Wasps circling on his flank, the pilot of the Jenner, one RayRay Duvall and not known for following standard comms protocols, doesn't spot Jack until it is much too late. The big Harmon laser scores a massive line all across the pirate mech's frame. Armor boils and melts away as poor Rayray takes forever to get clear of the emerald colored beam drilling into his mech. By the time the Jenner is able to get to cover, much of it's armor is little more than molten globs littering the overgrown ruins of a lost past.
The pirate Panther pokes from behind cover and replies to Lapeidra's greeting with one of its own. At the same time the Griffin turns and sends a barrage of long rang missiles raining down upon the poor struggling Commando as it is caught in the open. Finally, Rayray, figuring he'd best at least make a show of trying to duke it out breaks cover and dodges forward to try and score a hit or two on the Phoenix Hawk that just pulverized most of his mech. A pair of twin ruby laser beam jut out at Jack's mech followed by a quartet of short ranged missiles.
Finally the little Locust zips forward into the ruins of the spaceport, weaving its way through the rubble strewn landing area in order to not allow anyone's T&T system to get a solid lock.
Jenner: 1/6 Armor. +2 Heat.
Panther: 6/6 Armor. +0 Heat.
Griffin: 12/12. +0 Heat.
Gunny’s sensors light up as a small plethora of LRM’s heads his way. Any normal person might have paniced at this point, but Gunny, a veteran of many battles, new to keep his cool. After all, he hadn’t come all this way without a few old school tricks up his sleeve.
The Commando was gimped, without any argument, but Gunny new the little guy was more agile than most Mech’s. Even in its current state, it had more maneuverability than its larger counterparts. To that end, he new the LRM’s tracking systems quite well and new if he managed to move abruptly enough, he could foul up their guidance systems and possibly avoid the impact all together.
While continuing to push his little Mech forward, Gunny makes an abrupt turn to the right, then dodges back to the left, and finally brings the Commando into a full forward sprint, using the rain-soaked trees to obscure his small Mech’s pattern.
Keeping to his word, Gunny brings the small Jenner up on his screen. “You can hide from that large laser my friend, but good luck hiding from these.” He says while toggling the red covers open that safeguard the arming of the Mech’s missile bays. A billow of cigar smoke whiffs by his face as the lights on his console light up, indicating target lock. “Hehe that’s it my little friend. Supper is served.” Without hesitation Gunny hits the launch button, sending a series of six warheads directly at the Jenner.
Lapeidra curses when the enemy Panther jukes behind a ruined facade to escape her dead-center shot. When he returns fire she stomps the leg actuators and pivots hard.
The beam of charged particles narrowly misses her. Whoever that is in the Panther was an experienced mechwarrior. Lapeidra figured trading PPC blasts on even footing would be a matter of luck. One thing she knows about her own Panther, those targeting ghosts are real, and they could cause problems at any time.
Then she moves her mech laterally to try and minimize the defensive profile of the ruins.
|
|
"Well hi there little guy," Jack announces on the same open channel that had so recently carried the comedy stylings of RayRay and The Boss.
"Did you wander out here all on your lonesome? Did your folks at home not pay you enough attention and you think you can play with all us big kids out here?
Well ain't that just the cutest little thing. Awww, and you got guns on your little toy robot that look almost like real guns. Do ya know how to use them...
...chummer?"
Before the Jenner even opened up Jack could tell he was an unskilled pilot. Punks like this never learned true grace, or that mech combat carried repeatable forms that could be just as nimble as a human boxer's. As the heavy/light mech launches a half-strike, Jack pirouettes the Angel into the three phases of Falling Mountain before finishing with Gliding Leaf. On a heavier mech it wouldn't work, but the Hawk is so graceful she can't but love to dance.
As the lasers and missiles destroy epic amount of bark and foliage, but very little of actual mech, Jack can't help but retort. "Oh man. If I just shot a whole bunch of guns but didn't hit a gash-darn thing, well I'd just hang my head and cry is what I would do, I tell you what.
Oh, maybe you just need a lesson how the little trigger-thingy works.
Let's try out mine."
Jack has the most dangerous mech at point blank range. He can't hold back.
Charly turns her Wasp and pushed the throttle up past the run/walk marker and takes off through the forest to get within range of the Jenner.
Over the company's secure circuit, she radios Lloyd.
"Time to move up. There's a few spots highlighted on the map on your side. Pick one and fire from it."
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This spotMeatbag thinks as he moves into 4
It is ideal for ze ALPHA STRIKE he gets almost giddy as
Time for some good old Steiner Recon ja, TIME FOR ZE ALPHA STRIKE
Meatbag spends a fatepoint to invoke his Alpha strike stunt, moving into 4, invoking the aspect and unleashing both medium lasers and the large laser into the Jenner.
[ooc]I think
Assuming this succeeds with style:
Open coms in German:
Friedrich 1 hier,
Ich habe gerae den Jenner aufgeklärt, jetzt ist er ein Krater.
Fahre fort mit der Aufklärung des Panthers. Ah Mist, das ist der offene Kanal! Scheiß drauf, HEIMLICHKEIT IST OPTIONAL!
Friedrich 1 reporting, I have reconneutered the Jenner, now he is a crater. Proceeding to reconneuter the Panther. Ah crud this is the open Chanel! Eh, f$&# it, STEALTHYNESS IS OPTIONAL!
Gunny shoves his Commando into motion as incoming missile alarms sound. With some nimble and deft footwork he slips free of the Griffin's long rang barrage and puts himself right up on the flank of the enemy Jenner. His system flashes green and in a blink a half dozen explosive warheads streak toward the hapless pirate. His missiles fly true sailing into and widening the opening in the mechs armor carved out by Jack's heavy laser. Explosions erupt inside and out side of the Jenner. The broken, twisted remnants of an Argra medium laser is blasted off into the surrounding scrub.
Leaving the foolish Jenner to her comrades, Lapeidra continues her cat and mouse game with the pirate Panther. Her hard pivot surprises the other pilot causing him to be driven a bit further away from his support. She tries to isolate the pirate further, but looses the ducking Panther as it slips between two old office buildings that now house a variety of scrub trees and native vines instead of staplers and copy machines.
Pirouetting his Phoenix Hawk with a deadly grace and efficiency that might earn accolades from even the stoic elite warriors of the Draconis Combine, if they wished to demean themselves by acknowledging a mercenary to begin with, Jack avoids the Jenner's hurried attack.
Though the enemy mechwarrior may not be the brightest, most skilled, or win the Solaris VII betting pool for longest life expectancy, he did manage a few moves to avoid the worst of Jack retaliatory attack. Both ruby laser beams just miss the smaller mech, but the entire exercise leave the Jenner right in the center of the Phoenix Hawk' T&T crosshairs.
Charly races her Wasp forward closer to the fray. Reaching the outskirts of the open ground, she hesitates before firing. This is because just a moment sooner, Markus brings his own Hawk into position. The Nagelring dropout unleashes quite a laser light show upon the hapless pirate in the Jenner. A holiday display of emerald and ruby tears into the center of the already wounded light mech. Another laser practically evaporates under the intense assault. Armor slags away fouling the short range missile launcher while another beam stabs through several key components of its jump jets. Stored plasma fuel shots out in thin streams from the breeches frying the trees and vines unfortunate in the luck of where they planted their roots. The mech staggers under the Steiner mechwarrior's alpha strike. But for the moment, the little mech still stands.
|---Ll-|------|-CMJLa-|-------|-G-J--|------|-PNT-L-|---G---|--------|----- ----|--------|--------|--------|
|_-6__|_-5_|__-4___|_-3__|__-2__|_-1_|___0___|_+1___|_+2__|_+3__|_+4__|_+5_ __|_+6__|
Active Aspects
Environment (All Zones): Slippery Slopes and Ancient Trees; Rain, Rain, Won't Go Away;
Zone 0: Ruins of a Spaceport
Zone -1 and +1: Overgrown City Ruins
Zone -4: A Safe Spot to Snipe From 1 Free Invoke (+3);
Zone -3: Got a Bead on Them 1 Free Invoke (+4)
Other Aspects: Inspiring My Comrades to Victory 2 Free Invokes (+6);
Gunny: Caught in the Open +1 Free Invoke for the Enemy.
Lloyd and Charly: On Their Flank +1 Free Invoke each
Jack: Boost x2: Right in my Crosshairs
Enemy - Locust: Bobbing and Weaving +1 Enemy Free Invoke
Enemy - Panther vs Lapeidra: Hide and Seek in the Ruins +1 Enemy Free Invoke
Jenner: 0/6 Armor. +2 Heat. 7/16 IS.
Panther: 6/6 Armor. +0 Heat. (PPC -2 Range 4)
Griffin: 12/12. +0 Heat. (PPC -2)
GM Fate Points: 5/6 (+1 for Hostile Invoke)
For a long moment Lapeidra jockeys laterally for position to better target the enemy Panther. But while that doesn't gain her an advantage, the enemy makes a mistake, exposing itself right when her primary weapon is raised to fare. She can only guess that its targeting system is glitching out. Hopefully hers won't do the same.
"Dodge this!"
The PPC sizzles, supercharged beam of particles causing a cylinder of surrounding atmosphere to explode into thunder.
Charly takes in a deep breath to settle her nerves. There was no use rushing the shot, and the Jenner's pilot was undoubtedly just a little distracted by the massive hits they'd taken. Charly took her time lining up the targeting reticle for her mech's laser on the Jenner's cockpit. She'd seen the aftermath of too many pirate raids to feel anything but grim satisfaction at the thought of killing this space buccaneer as she squeezes the trigger.
Then she remembers something rather important.
"Hey, do we have salvage rights for these yahoos?"
Lloyd pushes forward with his Wasp opposite Charly, darting between the ancient trees with his light mech. It's a different kind of terrain here, especially in a smaller mech. He wasn't used to trees quite like these. In his little Wasp he didn't exactly match the common image of a 'Mech walking through a forest, pushing aside or smashing any tree that got in its way.
Seeing the Jenner still barely standing and now just within his range, he decides it'd be best to finish it off. Slipping out from between the trees he pops off a shot with his laser and SRM's before getting back into what cover he can.
"Other mechs are better at range. We could get close," he suggests to the others.
Meatbag moves into zone 3, and gets a pretty good bead on the Panther with his large laser.
Achtung Achtung Alle Einheiten! Jenner about to explode, my sensors picking up massive reactor damage, stay clear! If he tries that Drac Banzai b%*+&@+~ Broadcasting over the open channel, Meatbag seeks to reverse psychology the Jenner into ejecting.
Ammo explosion, is it a Panther with the SRM?
The Griffon is a bit light, for a scout lance, but can be good salvage! Yets Yoink the bugger
Meatbag answers (over closed comns) enthusiastically.
"Awwwww man. Why'd Meatbag have to slag half the Jenner," Charly asks. "If we keep the mech, we'll have to replace all of those parts, and I don't trust Jack to do it."
Operation Flyswatter
Anti-Rimword Periphery
Stettin System
Rat’s Maze Marshes
1 May 2950
It had been several decades since the lost colony of Stettin III the sounds of war rumbled across it's mist filled skies. Generations of native fauna were born, lived, and died without ever witnessing the crackle of a particle projection cannon or the thunder of missiles pummeling an enemy. The ruby and emerald bolts of laser fire were legacies the bygone past and the Second Succession War.
But once again the raging cacophony of destruction and doom burst the peace of the rainfall and bird song. Once again metal ripped from the ground is returned to its cold embrace by the massive machines of war. The Jenner spews forth green coolant as a final missile blast from Gunny's Commando busts open a pair of heat sinks.
For a brief moment young Rayray Duvall thinks the worst has passed and somehow he was still alive and his mech still standing. Then the pair of Wasps come charging out from the forest edge. Screaming a curse, the pirate mechwarrior tries his best to juke and duck away from the oncoming ruby beams and Lloyd's burst of Bical SRM's. Somehow he manages to avoid the flight of missiles, but not the pair of piercing lasers. Both red beams bore deep into the mech's innards severing power couplings, shattering focusing arrays, and even punching into the machine's gyroscopic core. It is that last wound that sends the mech lurching like a Solarian drunk. It takes a few more wobbly steps before the cockpit blows out as the ejection system shoots the pilot high into the air. A few seconds later a parachute deploys and Rayray Duvall begins his slow descent into obscurity.
The Panther pokes up from cover firing its PPC and a flight of short range missiles at Gunny's Commando. The pirate mech then retreats east toward the far side of the space port.
Flanking the Panther, the little Locust snaps off a quick shot at Gunny and then races back across the uneven ground. It's odd birdlike legs kick up mud and muck as it cruises across the old landing pad and up an incline. The move puts the scout on the flank of the pirate Griffin which has moved back to a more secure firing position from the top of small hillock.
|-------|------|-LlCLa-|---M--|-GJX--|------|------|-PNT-----|-L-Gr--|----- ---|--------|--------|--------|
|_-6__|_-5_|__-4___|_-3__|__-2__|_-1_|__0__|___+1___|__+2__|_+3__|_+4__|_+5 ___|_+6__|
Active Aspects
Environment (All Zones): Slippery Slopes and Ancient Trees; Rain, Rain, Won't Go Away;
Zone 0: Ruins of a Spaceport
Zone -1 and +1: Overgrown City Ruins
Zone -4: A Safe Spot to Snipe From (+3);
Zone -3: Got a Bead on Them 1 Free Invoke (+4)
Markus: Inspiring My Comrades to Victory 2 Free Invokes (+6);
Lloyd: On Their Flank +1 Free Invoke each
Charly: On Their Flank
Enemy - Locust: Bobbing and Weaving +1 Enemy Free Invoke
Enemy - Panther vs Lapeidra: Hide and Seek in the Ruins +1 Enemy Free Invoke
Enemy - Gunny's Caught in the Open
Enemy - Shifting to the High Ground +2 Enemy Free Invokes
Jenner: 0/6 Armor. +2 Heat. 3/16 IS.
Panther: 6/6 Armor. +4 Heat. (PPC -2 Range 4)
Griffin: 12/12. +0 Heat. (PPC -2)
Locust: 4/4 Armor. 0 Heat.
GM Fate Points: 4/6
Lloyd nods in satisfaction as the Jenner goes down, but doesn't lose sight of the remaining enemies. He moves up at a steady pace, not wanting to get ahead of the others and make himself a target until he can get on the inside of the Panther's and Griffon's effective engagement ranges.
For the sake of something useful to do as he closes, he focuses his sensors on the Panther, refining his target lock so he'll have a good shot on it when he's in range.
Lapeidra feels like she trying to swat a mouse with a stick. What is this coward up to in that Panther?
"Come back and die!"
She marches her Panther forward, stomping the leg actuators as if she were stepping crossly out of a meeting with her now-deceased dirtbag manager.
She points her arm cannon at the thing and fires again.
Maybe all this stomping about is causing her to shoot wildly.