Classical Warfare- the Modern Siege

[Colt Ward]

This is following a previous post- http://bg.battletech.com/forums/index.php/topic,14183.0.html

11 March 3064
Reeseville. Bryant
Chaos March

   Claps accompanied the Viscount's successful strike of his mallet against the croquet ball, sending it through the wire arch as he progressed in the game.  Today, court was in session at the Bryant High Palace, as those rewarded with titles, position, wealth and power were all attending the Viscount's amusement.  Dvenksy found novel games a means of diverting his attention for a few moments of relaxation before he would return to the grind of managing his budding empire.  In fact, his jester was responsible for proposing each new novelty to the Viscount to determine suitability for court purposes.  This antique game even allowed time outdoors with fresh air, something that was pleasant near the arctic of this storm swept world.

   As the Viscount watched several young attractive ladies work through their turns, and in one buxom case helped guide her stroke, he noticed his military aide fidgeting outside the looked at the map.  "No . . . I think we can perhaps find something to help the good Major hold on a bit longer."  He keyed in a sequence, enlarging a single icon that hovered circle of the crowd.  The man stuck out like a sore thumb, not of this world, he was a outside mercenary who had been bought.  Dvensky found it was wise for his bodyguards and some key leaders of the army that was his iron fist to be loyal only to him with no ties to this planet.  The leader of his Bryant Regulars, who was off planet raiding at this time, was one such man.  He was a safer choice, since he owed everything to Dvenksy's position.  Miraclously the crowd parted as he drifted over to the aide while keeping an eye on the ladies.

   "My apologies my lord, but the 11th Armored Blitzkrieg has arrived in system according to the recharge station and are burning in system as fast as possible.  Their major forwarded a message requesting instructions for his landing and the planetary situation."

   With a sigh, the short compact man turned back to the gaily dressed crowd of courtiers.  A brief clap of his hands gathered their attention to him.  "Good people, we will need to continue this another time.  The affairs of state call me away to settle those troublemakers and treasonous rabble, and I must lead our valiant troops in restoring order to our world."

   Turning his back on the crowd who had paused the game in mid-turn, the foreign bodyguards fell in behind him as he led the military aide back into the replica Elizabethan era palace.  A series of winding corridors and descending stairs took the saturine planetary leader into more modern surroundings as the restored stylings of Britain gave way to a heavily shielded bunker that formed his command center.  Leading his following to a large map table, the recessed holographic images of the planet's surface lit up without a word being said to the tech.  Dvensky turned to his aide.

   "Reginald, I want to see his message.  And que up Gredznikov's latest as well, though I expect its a plea for more of the forces on planet since he has lost control of the southern continent."  While Gredznikov had faced increased pressure, the mercenary major had lost control of the region letting rebel support build up to the point that the rebels were waging open warfare against his troops.  Dvensky had even lost a Leopard dropship carrying a mercenary assault lance which was to be reinforcements to an aerospace strike.  The lose of a dropship and an Atlas assault mech angered him every time he thought of it, which happened more than he wished.  He had gotten so angry, he had declared the mercenary command in breach of contract for having failed to defend the munitions plant they had originally been assigned to protect.  The last two mechs had been seized from the two mechwarriors and their techs here at the capital, pressed into the Regulars.

   He looked down at the map as Reginald retrieved the messages.  It used to be updated from overhead imagery by his observation satellites.  Unfortunately the mercenaries had captured the main uplink equipment as well as destroying or capturing the few satellites he had available in their opening move.  The map showed the southern hemisphere, centered on the city of Quillionham which happened to be the largest and most productive city in the south.  A wide river sliced away a third of the city, mostly residential districts were on the Far Bank, with a few bridges spanning the waterway.  Barges were used to bring raw resources from mines, farms and what forests survived the windstorms to the city's factories.  It was the first city in the southern hemisphere he had captured when he took control of the south, the garrison headquarters for the whole region.  Now it looked to be the first city he officially would lose control over, though insurrection was simmering in others even here in the northern hemisphere.

   A few keystrokes showed Gredznikov's strength listing stacked up next to what intelligence reports showed the mercs and rebels had used or suspected of using.  His force down there was totally outclassed.  While the Regulars mechs were heavier on average than the rebel mechs, but the merc mechs definately outmassed the Regulars even if you did not count all the extra numbers the rebels added.  Armor and infantry just tipped the scales even further against his Regulars that were trapped in Quillionham.  Could they even punch their way out?  Looking at the map he considered that very question.  The rebels had to be observing his remaining military spaceport, which was the only explanation for a Leopard being intercepted and shot down when trying to move reinforcements.  He had no aerospace fighters to protect the few dropships he had available.  The incoming heavy armor battalion was not under observation . . . and it was something he could send to the south.

   Reginald handed him a large memo pad which displayed two video files loaded.  Iosef Dvensky selected the file sent from the commander of the 11th Armored Blitzkrieg, a Oberst Dieter Heydrich.

   A older man with leathery skin appeared on the pad's display.  "Bryant Command, this is Oberst Heydrich of the 11th Armored Blitzkrieg.  My command has arrived on station and we are proceeding on course for your planet, our arrival will depend upon your requirements and mission tasking.  At present we are burning in at 1G until we receive your instructions for our deployment.  11th Blitzkrieg out."

   "Well, he was rather short in the message, though I guess that is suitable for the military man."  He faced Reginald, "we shall just have to see if we cannot get the good Oberst to be more social able."

   The Viscount frowned, "Now for that failure Gredznikov.  I wonder how he will explain losing the south this time."

   Another press of a button started the second mech battalion's commander, the military commander of the south.  "Viscount, it is my duty to report that our position in Quillionham is untenable.  I expect the rebels to maintain their siege of the city; they have cut off food and outside power to everyone here.  We have drafted the civilian security forces into infantry companies, though I do not think they will be worth much.  We have been preparing the city for an all out assault, though I have also made plans for breaking out and dispersion.  Any survivors of a breakout are to make their way to the coast for a naval pick up if you can arrange it.  Otherwise they will make their way to the badlands . . . I am not sure that will work.

   "I request any military forces you can send.  The forces we had contact with here in the south were all pulled back to the city.  We lost contact with several patrols though listed the troops as missing in action.  Regular reports will be sent onward.  Quillionham Garrison out."

   Dvensky let himself be amused.  "The good commander seems to be a tad desperate eh Reginald?"

   "As you say sir.  Should I respond that nothing is available, as we have been doing?"

   Dvensky over some old ruins.  The icon enlarged to a small paragraph of text.  Dalton's Pack, a now reduced pirate formation of a reinforced company.  Dalton had been captured by the mercenaries, and the raiders had not ventured from their hiding place since.  Dvensky let them tag along on raiding parties in exchange for some of their loot and the promise they would answer militarily when he called.

   "Reginald . . . bounce a signal to Dalton's Pack, or whatever they are calling themselves now.  I think its time they paid up what they owe, and Major Greznikov might appreciate it."

   "Yes sir."

[Colt Ward]

91st Argyllshire Highlander Firebase
Quillionham Outskirts
Bryant, Chaos March

   "You know they are not going to move on time Sean."

   It was not a comment he wanted to hear from his executive officer after the combined staff meeting had ended in the 91st's headquarters tent.  Everyone who was not part of the 91st except the sponsor's liason, who had settled into a corner.  The staff had not yet returned to oversee the headquarters operations.

   "Ach, that is not what I want to hear Brooke.  Especially if it is more than likely to be true."  Lieutenant Colonel Sean Campbell, commander of the 91st Argyllshire Highlanders, looked a bit worn as he stepped over to the beaten flat panel map table.  He tapped a few sensors which shifted the overhead image to the southern portion of the city and on the edge was the rebels' southern firebase.  While most of the troops operating out of the base were part of the two rebel factions, some of the mercenaries were stationed there to provide a bit of stiffening.  Some of the rebels were also at the northern firebase, particularly infantry units to provide extra manpower.

   "I know Major Petrov will support us, but even if the rebels can get their forces moving on time I still think 'General' Klasov will try to hold them back so we take much more than the brunt.  The Smedley Guard will definately be on time and moving, but are about a third of the southern thrust."

   He tapped another key, shifting the image to the eastern side of the city.  "Brooke, I want your Valkyries stationed where our perimeter meets the east-west running highway when this happens.  Your medium lance will be able to goad the Free Bryant Army into action, especially with the Smedley Guard moving.  Jumping movement should let you draw the garrison into engaging the advancing rebels, which will follow the plan of splitting them between two hammers.  Comments?"

   The redhead leaned against the table, examining the lay out of the terrain before she looked down at him.  "Should not be too difficult, stick and move is what my girls do after all.  Can we get any sort of support?"

   The commander tapped a few keys, opening a window on the map table.  "Only a few units are not strictly tasked out right now.  The best support I could give you would be priority for artillery and close air support, followed up by second wave air mobile infantry.  Depending on the garrison's reaction, you might get some hovertank support.  But mobility is still going to be your best bet."

   He closed the window, zooming back out to cover the city.  "Our best bet is not to get bogged down, this needs to be finished fast."

[snakespinner]

Good to see the Highlanders still having a smashing time on Bryant. [cheers]

[Colt Ward]

Ruins of Stevaspol, Bryant
Chaos March

   It was the dust that always got to him.  The barren dirty wastelands of Bryant had returned to bury the farms, pasture and orchards that had been achieved with Star League terraforming and weather control technology.  When the land became desert, the population moved towards the polar regions or left the scarred world in the decades after Kerensky defeated Aramis.  Population centers in what had been temperate regions were slowly abandoned as the people died off or fled, letting the planet reclaim any signs of human habitation. Cities and towns started to be buried under sandstorms or hardy native planet life that returned.  Simple roads were broken up while the advanced Star League highways crumbled with age.  Pipelines ruptured, dikes were washed away and hydroelectric dams were breached to wash away any downstream who had struggled to hang on.  Even Liao only used the wastelands for their worst penal facilities.

   The wastelands were left to the desperate, and with the rise of the Chaos March several dozen pirate bands had found refuge in the inhospitable country.  Some were officially welcome by the Viscount, such as Dalton's Pack.  Dvensky offered transport for the smaller bands on his commandeered dropships, to increase the number of raiders and locations hit.  In exchange, the pirates gave a share of their loot to the Viscount and were allowed refuge in the wastelands as long as they did not prey on his people . . . too much anyway.  They would also be required to answer the call to defend his power structure if requested.  So far that had not happened except the occasional information on where some rebel forces could be found for pickings.

   Commander Rial lay stretched on a large bed in his sandbagged bunker, listening to a tired and wheezing air conditioner try to bring down the mid-day heat.  Dalton's Pack, he had not changed the name, a little over three months ago had put their nose into a meat grinder chasing down easy rebel pickings.  A third of the pirate band's strength had been wiped away, including some of the heavier and more advanced designs available to the pirates.  It had taken a month for Rial to repair the damage to the machines and his men's spirits.  A few had to be put down before they acknowledged his leadership.  With the increased rebel activity, and the blasted mercs supporting them with heavy and medium mechs, his little band had hunkered down for the storm to blow over like a Bryant dust gale.

    The bunker's door got pounded upon.  "Commander, you have a call."

   Rial tilted his head up off his pillow.  "I do not care if someone is calling a meeting, it can only happen if I attend."

   "Its not a staff call . . . the Viscount is bouncing a signal to us."

   Rial found himself jolted out of his bed before he realized it.  The ruler of the planet, never mind what the rebels wanted or were trying, had contacted the Pack.  Usually it was just Freisland, Dvensky's head bully, letting them know they could join in a raid, and where to be.  This would either be bad . . . or maybe a bit of good.  Rial hurriedly dressed himself in the most presentable clothing, after all, a good first impression was important.

   "Good Day Viscount, I am honored you wished to speak with me.  What can we do for you sir?"

   "So . . . my sources told me you have not stirred since Dalton was taken by the rebels.  You have not even tried to find revenge?"

   "Sir . . . things have been a bit confused."

   "Well, no matter, I shall do you a favor and make all clear."

   Rial had a sinking feeling.  For a noble to be that assured, meant someone was getting screwed.  Unfortunately it looked to be him.  "Sir?"

   "A few hours march from your present position lies the city of Quillionham.  You have been there before?  Good, the rebels have managed to trap my garrison inside that city.  Its the same people who humbled you, and I think they should hear from the remains of the Pack as you let the garrison slip out of the noose."  Dvensky smiled over the broadcast, "Splendid idea yes?"

[Colt Ward]

20th March 3064
Harlech City, Outreach
Chaos March

   Tapping always avoided the front door of the Nivelle Arms establishment, it drew too much attention and she had to deal with a flunky before she met with the oily bastard.  The sophisticated modification shop that ran the western length of the Arms' main building had several entrances and gave access to the rear office space.  Which included the stairs for Nivelle's private office, with its mirrored glass letting him look down upon the armor giants from three stories up.  The showroom layout, private office location and Nivelle's sense of decor all screamed ego and ostentatious taste.  For those who got this far, the furnishing were all expensive originals or high quality knock offs that most the mercenaries and few of the corporate vice presidents could truely appreciate.  After a short radio conversation, a large bodyguard escorted her up the stairs even though she knew the way, Nivelle wanted the prestige and power of his position to be evident.

   Amanda let him have the petty displays, since those tactics did not work on her.  At least not from someone who knew JP when he was starting off and helped him establish himself as one of Outreach's primary arms dealers.  He leaned in to kiss her cheek while reaching for her hands.

   "Cut the crap JP," a flash of anger lit his eyes at the irreverent name," I know you better than anyone on this rock."

   After that rebuke, he kept his distance from her.  She also knew to watch for him trying to gouge her on the final bill.  He would try, but not succeed.  He went back to his throne behind the desk, facing her from across its lacquered surface which hid various displays.

   "So what do you need my dear?"

   Amanda stepped forward to place a notepad upon the desk before taking a seat in a dark plush upholstered chair.  "A small list really, but some items require someone with your contacts."  She waited while he picked up the pad, hitting the page button to change screens while he turned on a display in his desk to compare.  Tapping knew the desk was his primary link to Nivelle's secured and isolated data files, a jealously guarded treasure.  Inside his secure files were records of secret deals with a variety of parties, some of which would get people killed if they were ever revealed.  They listed sources of equipment, various unit wish lists, covert operatives, blackmail and all the tools of his arms dealing trade.  The reason she knew just how extensive they were was that she once had access before she came to loath him too much to be his partner.

   "A Leopard port avionics suite?  Or a complete Leopard avionics suite if just the port computer cannot be found?  Four Condor kits for the old Davion variant?  Well, I think Quikscell still produces those as one offs.  Three seventy ton mech head assemblies?"  He looked up before her, holding in some snide comment she knew he was going to make.  "Various mech acutators, ammo, electronics, TAG . . . and Omnipods?  A interesting list.  A secondary list?  APCs, rocket systems, infantry kit, a list of salvage quality cheap vehicles . . . hmm, doing a bit of gun running now Amanda?"

   "Possibly Jean Paul, but does it really matter?  I am offering you c-bills or goods to cover our costs."

   "Oh, what have you got?"

   "Flip back to the main menu, its the second tagged file."

   The arms dealer followed the instructions, paging down through a new file.  "Not bad, I can give you 75% of market value since I can move some of this stuff immediately when you unload it."

   Amanda laughed, "Please, tell it to someone else Jean Paul.  You will give me 95% of the value and I know your going to mark it up for another 20% before you sell it."

   An acknowledging smile was all she got for a moment before he shrugged.  "85% is all I will give you and only because we are friends.  Times such as these a poor man like me can only make a 10% turn."

   "We will take that, but do not lie.  I know your going to gouge someone else on it, its in your blood."

   "You will also find a third list, a wish list of course.  I will be in Harlech for another week or so, let me know if there are any issues."  With that, Tapping got up and made her own way down the stairs and out of the building.  Most of the business was finished, with a few items to go before she relaxed for some personal time.  At least she could take a shower, be clean and stay that way.  It was so hard when she went into the field with the unit.

*         *         *


   It was after hours, and the best place to find Ivar Logan was the Federated Suns affiliated tavern, Sons of the Sun, which was a haven for the mercs who still had a fondness for home.  The tavern was a few blocks from the lake, which was not always the best side of town even if along some stretches it had the expensive views lakeside property generated.  Sons of the Sun was more a part of the working part of town, blue collar like the docks near the tavern.

   Tapping entered the tavern, finding a place at a table a few feet from the bar itself.  She took a covert glance about the place as she relaxed into the seat and ignored the interested looks from most the male patrons.  A few of the female ones too.  While not all the tavern's customers were males, females were still not overly abundant.  Just like representation in the mercenary field.  In fact, outside of the infantry and armor, the 91st Argyllshire Highlanders had a higher representation of females than was normal in mercenary units.  Infantry and armor were predominately male due to the strength requirements though female Elementals were changing that statistic some but not in the 91st.

   Half an hour later as Tapping was still nursing her first O'Rourke Pale Ale, Logan and his driver entered the tavern in nondescript fatigues.

   "Long live the Prince!" shouted Major Logan.

   "Long live the Prince!" responded about half the tavern. 

   Others frowned at those supporting the Prince, a few responded with "Princess!"

   The taverns owner, behind the bar, glared at his patrons.  "Enough o' that, I'll not have any fights tonight."  As he slammed a thick club on the oak wood of the bar.  The division between those who supported Victor and those who supported Katherine remained openly visible between patrons.

   Tapping kicked a chair out in front of Logan before he reached the bar.  "Join me Ivar?"

   The squat tanker turned to the unexpected invitation.  With a grin on his face he plopped into the chair, "Cole, grab us some brews and hop back here."

   "How ya doing Amanda?  Been a while since I saw you, tried to find you guys last year but ended up leaving a message with MercNet for when you checked back in."  He accepted the bottle of beer, taking a long chug before returning to the conversation, "That was before I heard you Highlanders had set up shop on Fletcher."

    "We've been busy Ivar, you know another day another c-bill.  Got your message, but at the time you sent it we were not in a position to respond, and then got picked up before we brushed the dust off our feet."

   The Capellan March liason did not say much about her leaving out specifics, it was the mercenary way when catching up.  Busy usually meant you were on someone else's c-bill and wanted to just leave it at that to be polite.

   "From what the news says, your Duke is still sitting on the fence in the Steiner-Davion spat . . . but it seems you have taken sides."

   "Too right, old Kathy does not belong on New Avalon.  She abandoned the Commonwealth when Tommy and Sunny came across the border, then left the Compact out to dry when Sunny pushed there.  Push comes to shove, she just rolls over for the Sun's enemies.  Heck, she has not even made any effort to take back worlds from the damn birds while she claims a Steiner heritage."

   Amanda smirked a bit while she made eye contact with the crew cut tank commander.  "Ever think that vocal opinion might be why the Duke has you on Outreach instead of with the Grenadiers?"

   Cole almost choked on his beer as she finished the statement.  Logan was nonchalant, "Might be lady, might be.  But when Kathy starts in with the Duke, I will be recalled to my unit . . . and I will be putting down her supporters.  Speaking of which the Duke is hiring . . . "

   Amanda held up her hand to stop him, "Already on contract Ivar, I am just here on a supply run while Op tempo is down.  In fact, I am looking for something we have seen a bit of information about.  Something I think you can help me get a hold of . . ?"

   "Oh?"

   The mercenary administrator and negotiator slid a single folded piece of paper across the carved dirty bar table to the Davion officer.  He looked at it for a moment, his face betraying neither acknowledgement, surprise or curiousity to the single phrase written on it.  Logan pocketed the scrap of paper as he kept eye contact with her.

   "I might know something about those systems, but to be honest you should not.  You really should not know."

   Tapping just shrugged before responding, "I have friends."

   "I have never seen one, just the specs.  Not even sure where any are in the Federated Suns, especially with the fragmented supply situation of the civil war.  But a more interesting question would be, why should the Duke find you any of those systems- especially since your already on contract thus unavailable.  So, Amanda why should the Duke get the new secret system for your mercenaries when line units do not have it yet and you're unavailable on another contract?"
 
   "Well . . . "


*      *      *


   It was now reaching the middle of the night, and in the mercenary city someone was always up and active.  Harlech City was a city that never slept.  Amanda Tapping, the 91st Argyllshire Highlander's head administrator and chief negotiator, was headed for a walled off compound that still had floodlights blazing and the sound of tools in use.  While it had the appearance of a technical compound and not a actual compound unit, it still had a pretty stiff guard force present.  Each gate was covered by sandbagged bunkers and body armored troops outside the gate,  razor wire and floodlights kept blind spots to a minimum.  Tapping walked up to the main gate as a large wheeled military truck was departing from the compound with what looked like a switchblade wielding rabbit on the engine compartment hood.

   Tapping's request at the front gate to see Sargeant Technician Adolphus Gustav was granted, though she had to wait for a infantryman to come escort her back into the warren of machine shops and repair bays.  The guide did not take her straight there, instead going around what she would guess were more sensitive areas that housed important projects.  Considering what BattleMagic and MechMagic Inc did, it was not surprising they had some projects they were working on that they did not want visitors seeing.  Which was ironic, since she had come to see the fruit of one of those projects.

   Gustav was an old customer for when Tapping sold equipment to the mercenary units, but at that point he was buying salvage-grade materials to put together for some group now defunct.  The quality of his work, and the intuitive way he managed to fix the problems had attracted the BattleMagic to give him a hiring offer.  Over the last ten years he had moved up to become an important part of the BattleMagic staff and her best placed informal contact among them.  Tech Gustav had sent a message saying he had something interesting to share with her, which meant it was a tech goodie.

   The Highlander negotiator found Gustav waiting for her in a mostly empty repair bay that was surprisingly clean for a mechanics bay.  In the center of the bay was a old Vedette with the engine compartment open, New Earth make by the look of the tank.

   "'lo Amanda, how you been?"

   "Oh, pretty good Adolphus, you?"

   "Been working, things stay busy round here as you know.  Anyway, I invited you here to show you something I have been working on for MechMagic . . . even if its not going to be for mechs.  How familiar are you with internal combustion engines and fuel cell engines?"

   She shrugged as she followed the tech sergeant over to the opened up Vedette.  "Military internal combustion engines can run on a variety of fuels, and usually a defender's vehicles are modified or programmed for the most commonly fuels available on their world.  Attackers either have to bring the fuel that is best for their vehicles, capture defender fuel stocks to convert their own engines, or try to set up their own fuel production facilities on planet.  Fuel Cell Engines are a civilian technology that are not really up to military grade endurance or use, though they take cracked hydrogen as fuel for their reaction.  Is that enough?"

   "You have the basics.  What you are seeing in this old Vedette is . . . a revision of that understanding.  I am showing you one of our production model Fuel Cell Engines, a project we have been working on since the Clans seemed to have problems with armor formations.  Its cheaper to build than a fusion engine and about as light, which will drive down the cost of units while allowing heavier weapons to be mounted.  Its easier to refuel than a ICE engine, since you crack water just like you do for your dropships and ASF.

   "MechMagic Inc is talking to a couple of merc units for more field combat trials.  I suggest your unit since . . . and the Captain-Tech okay'd it.  Especially since your not a prestige unit, and are more likely to get in the rough and tumble here in the Chaos March."

   Tapping smiled as she leaned over to look into the engine compartment.  "This will be perfect for a project we are working up, besides being refit in a few of our Zhukovs."  She held up a memory stick.  "I want to integrate these new engines into our project, if you will look it over.  Also, you have any suggestions for our techs on putting these military grade Fuel Cell Engines in our Zhukovs?  What about Pos?"

   Tapping was considering the implications the new engines would have on her logistics.


April 8th 3064
Iverarey Equipment Hangers, New Argyllshire
Chaos March

   The tech stared at the massive crates with his crowbar in hand.  They had arrived from Royce Spaceport on one of the small craft kept at the Castle for cargo runs to other settlements.  Even with the stripped down small craft, it had taken several trips to collect all the crates from the local tramp freighter.  The crates bore an assortment of markings, some Lyran or Federated Suns custom stamps, four sets seemed to have burned the AFFS stamping off the side, and some only bore Outreach Export ID tags.  The set the tech stared at had Quikscell company logos.

   He jammed the crowbar under the edge of a lid on a crate that was twice as long as his body.  "I hate these Quikscell paint by numbers jobs, they are such crap."

   As he strained at the length of the crowbar, another was jammed under roughly where his was but on the opposite end.  "Kid, you can tell you're a House man."

   The nails gave a tortured scream as the lid came up and away before the tech yanked the crowbar out, vaguely treating it as a weapon while trying to give his best angry and offended look.

   Warrant Officer Jack Hawes, the balding middle aged tech in charge of the Castle's technical staff cut between him and the other tech who was maybe two or three years older.  "Nolan, relax . . . tis a good thing we got these kits.  As a mercenary tech your oft gonna be handed something burned, broken or shot up an' tol' tis our new equipment.  Olde son, these kits are better than hovertanks off the line."  Hawes spit on the Quikscell logo, "d'at company takes ok parts and puts together trash.  We'd be a month mebbe two on each tank trying to find the problems and make them all work right."

   The other mercenary tech was nodding as he moved off to another crate.  Hawes was inspecting the parts, which looked like part of the frame to Nolan, before checking off a few boxes on his clipboard.  "Besides . . . we are not putting these together by the old Davion blueprint for this model.  We are putting in the stuff in the other boxes."

   Nolan looked down at the parts in the box.  He hated being called a kid, and he hated all the hazing he was taking for coming from a 'soft' House military tech background.  But he was learning a lot, and it looked like he was going to learn a lot more about being a all round tech before this was over.  Especially when he thought about the size of the manuals that had arrived with the crates.

[Colt Ward]

3064
Outside Quillionham
Bryant, Chaos March

   Lieutenant Colonel Sean Campbell stood at the headquarters tent opening staring off to the south of the 91st Argyllshire Highlander's forward operations base, part of the siege of Quillionham.  Across the compound, mechs, armor and VTOLs were responding while towed tube artillery kept up a steady rain of outgoing fire on the western edges of the city to keep in the garrison.  Even the aerofighters and conventionals were launching to drop their ready rockets on any Regulars that tried to make a break for the siege rampart.  While the mercenary and rebel forces did not want to face the brutal urban slugging match, they did not want to have Regulars outside the perimeter trying to stab them in the back.

   On the horizon two black flowing columns reached to the sky.  Behind him, the radios were blaring the com chatter, the loudest being the Highlander's executive officer's lance followed by the hovercraft and battle armor responding from the Highlander laager.  An explosion flowed upwards from the same area and flung some object a short distance.  Campbell kept his eyes on that region, he knew very well that some tank had just flung its turret across the battlefield . . . and the tank's crew was dead.

   "LIFELINE LIFELINE, this is Guard Bunker 6, I need MedEvac now." A pause, "The damn Raven just blew apart in the yard.  All I see are bodies from the infantry that was in the courtyard.  We have injured here in the Bunker from the blast."  Explosions echoed across the radio.  "We need MedEvac!"

   A burst of static disrupted the Highlander lance's com.  "Command . . . I think we just lost the firebase's yard.  Saw a Scorpion turret fly out, then a massive explosion.  The Rebels are getting beat on."  Another burst of static.  "The pirate Panthers are not going away, though between the rebels and us, we have put a lance down and dinged up another."

   Dust blew across the open ground before the headquarters tent at the 91st Argyllshire Highlanders forward operations base.  An attack VTOL turned the breeze into a storm that drove the grit into Campbell's face as the explosions continued and more smoke stained the horizon.


*         *         *

   The 91st Argyllshire Highlanders set up a field hospital as part of the forward operations base, the Highlander medical staff was better than the rebel staff at trauma.  The infantry survivors of the exploding Raven and shattered Scorpion tankers had been split between the two hospitals with the more at risk cases heading to the Highlanders.  A sort of conference was being held in the triage room with Sean Campbell, executive officer Major Brooke Warren, and Achileus squad commander, Lieutenant Dorian Gray for a debrief.

   Warren was sitting on a gurney, her left wrist and elbow wrapped to await inspection by the unit surgeon, Jacob Neely.  Landing in the swampy edge of the siege ditch, the Major's Wolverine had drawn the fire from five different mechs which knocked her down.  The Major had been knocked around as her Wolverine fell into the mud, and the medic wanted her to be checked out by a more qualified medical professional.  Once the critical casualties were handled, Doc Neely would evaluate her duty status.

   "So a few of them chickened out Sean, headed back to the wilderness.  Picked up a Hammer and then a Hussar running for it, the Hussar was in bad shape.  Three of the Panthers, the Whitworth and Watchmen made it across the cleared zone though we kept up distance fire.  Lost track of a Wasp and Valkyrie that survived the fight."

   Lt Gray, in his black battle armor body suit, jumped in, "We picked up the downed Valkyrie, Wasp, Hussar, Panther and one of the Hermes pilots though one slipped through the net.  Once we had secured them, we pitched in with the rescue at the guard base.  The two infantry companies are a write off, the survivors will be in no shape to get back on duty for a while.  I used my suit sensors to evaluate the destroyed and disabled Scorpions . . . the ones that are immobile, we can get working again though it will take a bit of time.  The other five are somewhat salvageable, two can be recovered . . . the rest are only good for parts.  Rebel Scorpion crew losses were high."

   "So, we managed to maintain the siege?"

   Warren answered, "Yes sir, they managed to get a bit of reinforcement, but it was shot up badly.  We picked up some salvage from knocking down the pirate mechs though the artillery and air strikes kept the majority of the garrison inside the city."

   "No trucks or VTOLs with food, ammo or parts?"

   "Just the mechs Sean."  The red-headed officer responded.

Two Days Later

   Campbell once again stood at the head of the assembled commanders being briefed at the headquarters tent.  "Any questions?  No?  Tomorrow we march on Quillionham and take that city.  Dismissed."

[mawille2]

Great start, looking forward to reading more.

[Colt Ward]

North Quillionham
Bryant, Chaos March
15 March 3064

   "Highlander Actual, this is Eagle One.  Artillery fires have been suppressing the base's defensive emplacements, we are taking no fire at this time, over."

   "Eagle One, Highlander Actual roger.  Keep your distance and watch for the incoming troop birds.  Highlander Actual out."  Lieutenant Colonel Sean Campbell switched frequencies from the recon elements to the dropship command channels.  "Claymore this is Highlander Actual, load the last of the artillery and security forces.  Eagle One says the base's defenses are suppressed and your target is clear.  I will give you the final clearance when we take it."

   Campbell looked forward into the back of the Zeus on point, which placed one of  the four assaults in the whole of the Highlanders in the lead.  So far none of the forward elements had come in contact with anything heavier than infantry pickets, though the aerofighters flying close air support had spotted a few mechs and armor moving on the streets.  This portion of the advance was two of the heaviest lances his mercenaries had, trying to take the primary target of the assault on the city in this stage.  Taking the objective would greatly ease logistics and support for his force in capturing the rest of the city which would also make things easier for the rebels moving in from the south.

*         *         *

   Captain Gregori Horn leaned out the open side door of the Karnov as it zipped between the buildings on either side of the street.  His Elemental's HUD was rapidly updating as the transport VTOL was flying at flank down the concrete canyon.  Following behind was a second Karnov, though it was a civilian converted model that lacked the weapons or speed of his Karnov.  It carried Lieutenant Dorian Gray's Achileus Light Battle Armor which was also bound for the same hot drop on a vital target.  A third civilian Karnov carried Major Ramirez jump infantry platoon and a foot infantry platoon.  The last foot infantry platoon was broken up into squads carried on three Ferret VTOLs which allowed the heavier VTOLs to draw any chance of defensive fire, which was also more survivable for the battle armor if they had to bail out.

   A second wave of infantry, which included the 91st Argyllshire Highlander's engineers, and a engineer support vehicle were loaded on a small craft which would make a combat landing.  They would only go for the landing when Captain Horn's force signaled that the target's anti-aero defenses had been suppressed or even neutralized though the commander wanted them intact if possible.

   "Captain!  Ten seconds to drop!"  yelled the pilot over the roar in the craft's cockpit.  The open bay doors negated any sort of soundproofing the machine possessed even as a stripped down military model.

   "Aff pilot." Horn switched channels to his squad channel, "Troops, stand up!"

   The other five Elemental suits, most controlled by Inner Sphere soldiers, stood up and faced the doors.  "Walk to the door!"  The suits perched on the edge as directed, leaning at the edge just like Captain Horn had been.

   The edge of the spaceport flashed by under the VTOL.  "JUMP!"

   The pilot started swearing like he always did when six tons of metal dropped off the sides of his craft.  Controlling the ascent when the weight was lost was always fun.

   Horn fell from the sky grinning, retire him to the merchant caste against his wishes?  He got more action fighting in the Inner Sphere than among the Clans, where his status meant he was on garrison duty to typically be bid away.

   His feet crunched on the pavement as Captain Gregori Horn hit and went into a roll.  Now he was leading the capture of a enemy held spaceport, a first for his codex.  Beyond the compacted earth berms lay a city to be conquered, something that had not really happened since Operation Revival for the Clans.


   Ramirez, commander of the infantry detachment for the 91st Argyllshire Highlanders, watched out the open bay windows as three large metal eggs started falling from the sky.  He stood in the center of the spaceport tower control room as a few of the computer tech qualified soldiers from the Engineer platoon were looking over the consoles and work stations.  The control center was not in operation, key pieces of equipment were removed by the defending Bryant Regulars when they abandoned the facilities as part of their defense plan.  The ships coming in would stay under their own control for the landing rather than following control tower directions.

   Even the loss of spaceport equipment would not slow operations much, since the Fortress command facilities could take over for the limited traffic the Highlanders would be using at the spaceport.  Major Ramirez infantry company, engineer platoon, and battle armor platoon were spread out across the spaceport facilities searching for any sabotage while bringing aero operations online.

   *   *   *

   The very first sign the 91st Argyllshire Highlanders command and second lances had of the ambush was a wave of Long Range Missile fire arcing over buildings.  Unfortunately for the 91st, those missiles were not aimed at mechs but at a just dismounted squad of Gray Death Legion Standard battle armor.  The rain of scores of missiles exploded across the pavement and the buildings fronting the streets, sending shrapnel, chuncks of pavement, shattered brick and concrete bits flying.  By the time the smoke cleared five of the suits were down, a few unmoving, with a single suit running for cover in the now sharpnel-pocked building.  Then two contact reports rang out on the task force com channel, almost at the same time while the mechs were still moving forward.

   Yuri Danilov called out from the cockpit of the Bandersnatch, "Chimera, pinned to a building, engaging."

   While at the same time Sergeant McKay called in about a Vindicator found advancing down the middle of the street.  The report's broadcast broke up a bit due to the two mechs use of particle projection cannons, which usually interfered with electronics.  McKay's Vindicator showed up on Colonel Campbell's targeting display, so he tried to contribute a blast from his right arm extended range PPC only to melt a hole in the building behind it.  MechWarrior Sharif, a replacement warrior, also fired with her left arm extended range medium laser by twisting about but also came up missing.  McKay's shots did better, pounding the torso and the right leg.

   Danilov crowed on the coms, "Da, good hits Colonel.  Armor stove in on the right, his MRM blew up.  And he is down."

   Artillery shells started to fall further up the street, spilling one building into an intersection from the angry black flowers.  Mechs continued to move, the Chimera and Vindicator no longer being visible for Highlander fire, instead a Cataphract walked into an intersection to the west of the point Zeus 9S who called it out.  Both lance's Warhammers crossed over to the same western street, firing their PPCs down it at the moderately armored heavy mech.  Only one of the four shots actually impacted, though both Kawolski in the Zeus and Sharif temporarily piloting Winston's Orion both connected with the Bryant Regular's machine.  The many hits pounded the heavy mech to the ground while the Highlanders kept advancing and more LRMs flew over buildings smashing storefronts and street signs with a salvo actually blowing armor off the Zeus.

   Campbell's HUD started popping up icons in a ring around the two lances as hidden or powered down units started coming after his lances.  The Highlanders had advanced into the city to find the defenders and it looked like his detachment had stumbled across half of them . . . especially when the Center and East task forces had not reported contact outside of the few random shooters.  Behind the two lances a pair of Lineholders appeared with likely contact on at least one more.  Unfortunately for the defenders, they were the only targets easily engaged though a Blizzard had scouted ahead after dropping infantry troops.  Both Warhammers connected with PPC blasts while the Colonel missed his shot but Danilov managed to punish the medium mech with hits to its torso adding to what the Warhammers did moments before.  Medium lasers, LRMs, and a solid LB-10X slug opened the torso for cluster munitions to hit internally.

   More waves of missiles came falling like rain on Kawolski's Zeus, but both it and the modified Orion sent their own LRMs on indirect fire to pelt the defender's Rifleman.  The Blizzard reported the Rifleman shaking from the impacts before the com signal was cut off in mid-word, likely meaning the transport had been destroyed.  Campbell watched Kawolski lose control of his Zeus from all the missile hits, breaking pavement when the machine's 80 tons slammed to the ground.  Campbell stepped his Battlemaster sideways, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, which was the Chimera trying to run around the corner and failing.  The 40 ton medium mech slipped on the pavement, falling on its right side which ripped off the right leg and the flash on the right torso was a jump jet blowing out.  Moments later the MRM ammo in the right torso let go, blowing pieces of the engine out the open torso, the right arm flying off to embed itself in a building as the rest of the mech blew itself apart.  No pilot ejected from the wreckage.

   Sergeant Major Kiera von Klaus managed to hit the already damaged Lineholder as she back stepped covering the other mercenaries.  The left torso started smoking as the left arm dropped to the pavement which caused its pilot to duck down the next street.  Armor had moved up to try to block any forward movement, which resulted in the lead Zhukov exchanging fire with three mechs returning the gifts.  The Zhukov fired at the Orion while getting repeatedly hit in the front glacis, its sensors dying and a Autocannon 10 being melted by the Zeus PPC.  The hits kept striking the heavy tank, but its armor was not enough at that range to last through the blows, dying in a gush of black smoke.  Another Zhukov had the angle on the Zues, autocannon hits striking the already damaged left side followed by short range missiles.  Danilov in his Bandersnatch kept up his streak, finding the Cataphract around a corner to reach out at short range for his LRMs, followed by more cluster rounds in search of weaknesses.  The missile bombardment shifted from the Zeus to MacKay's Black Knight, who was the commander of the Second Lance after Captain Winston was injured the previous month.

   Reinforcements were on the way, artillery had been retasked and close air support in the form of a pair of Boeing Jump Bombers were closing.  The two lances from the 91st Argyllshire Highlanders would just have to fight their way out and hold on . . . which was going to be tough.  The lieutenant colonel's panel had just updated, Kawolski's Zeus had just fallen down and his bio-monitor showed him as being out of the fight.

   More defenders were showing themselves.

[Colt Ward]

Quillionham Spaceport
Bryant, Chaos March
15 March 3064


   The Battlemaster's armor had been battered by the Regular's weapons fire during the streetfighting in Quillionham.  Campbell had not been able to see any of the damage to the armor while he was piloting, relying on the mech's diagnostics to determine what remained of his protection.  Now his giant ride was bathed in the spotlights of the newly set up field repair base at the city's spaceport.  The wide open tarmac, dropship cradles, small craft hangers, machine shops and military facilities made it a perfect place for the mercenaries to repair even if the regulars had stripped what they could before leaving.  The Highlander's two heaviest lances, covering the right flank, had been ambushed by a large concentration of Regular defenders.  The just repaired Orion 1K mod, Zeus 9S and Black Knight had all fallen to brutal fighting in the concrete canyons before reinforcements, air support and artillery fire had driven the defenders back.  The mercenaries had  given more damage than they had taken, capturing a Cataphract, taking the head off a Rifleman, blowing a Chimera apart, and destroying a lance and a half of armor.  Four of the medium Regular mechs were also forced to withdraw from heavy damage while another was crippled by the fighting.  According to Intel the Regulars garrison had lost some of its heaviest designs available in the garrison.

   Tonight the techs were patching up armor and putting the giants back together while one mechwarrior returned to duty even if her mech had fallen again while she was in the medic's hands.  While three of the Highlander's heaviest designs had fallen, they could be repaired over time along with some of the salvage taken.  The surrendered Cataphract could be fixed back up and reprogrammed to be used when the mercenaries moved back out in the morning. 

   While Campbell stood studying his mech, chief tech Mickey Rourke came up in a dirty jumpsuit to stand beside the unit commander.  "Hey boss."

   "Any news on the damages?"

   "The captured Cataphract can be put back online soon, we stripped a working Ultra 5 off the Rifleman to temporarily replace the damaged one.  The computer has been reprogrammed, we are just waiting to know which pilot profile you want installed.  The leg damage and armor replacement will be finished by dawn.  The armor damage and reloads on the other heavies that were engaged will also be finished by dawn.  Lt Callahan's squad is out of action, two of the Gray Death suits were recovered with the rest fit only for a few parts.  Which does not matter because the surviving troopers are not fit to go into the field right now, or so Doc Neely says.  Which leaves the big decision, which of the three wrecks that came back do you want fixed up?"  Rourke handed a data chip for a noteputer over to the commanding officer.

   Campbell took a long pull of the bottle of bland sports drink all mechwarriors used to replace what they sweat out in combat.  As he swallowed the tepid electrolytes and boosters he scanned the run down on all three machines.  "The Black Knight seems the best option, no limbs to reattach or more ammo to risk." 

   "Wilco boss," Rourke turned to head back to his tech teams, drafted dropship crews, and ammo dogs to begin the assignments on the Black Knight and Cataphract.  "Oh yeah, commo gave me a file for you to look at, its on the chip I gave you."

   Campbell searched chip's index to find the message.  It took reading it twice to get the full measure.  According to Otto, Smedley's Guard had also been hit in an ambush but had not taken the damage the Highlanders had though their Caeser had lost its head, literally.  Smedley wanted to know if the 91st could help him fix the heavy to get it back in action, listing out what they had recovered off the field even if the techs were not sure about the equipment being salvaged.  In fact, one design Smedley's troops had captured definately interested him, possibly something which could be traded for as part of a deal over a head for the Caeser.

[snakespinner]

The Highlanders are finally back.
The same mechs seem to get knocked out every battle.
Must be a homing device. O0

[David CGB]

The Highlanders are finally back.
The same mechs seem to get knocked out every battle.
Must be a homing device. O0

or pilots that want to get more kills painted on

[David CGB]

I would love to get some info on the 91st Argyllshire Highlander

[Colt Ward]

Well, the Orion/Black Knight/Bandersnatch/Warhammer 7M lance has taken a beating since the begining of the invasion.  Knight took a leg crit from underwater mines when they hit the beach, which flooded the leg.  The skirmishes after that did not do much, but the opportunity strikes set of missions had the two Highlander lances that hit an armor training base got hammered.  The Orion had to be be put back together, the Black Knight had a leg immobilized, the Bander's armor was memory and the Warhammer had an arm blown off I think.  The other lance had a BJ lost to ammo explosion, headshot on a 3025 Grasshopper and other Bad Things.

As for the 91st Argyllshire Highlander back ground . . . I will fish it out, this was a revenge campaign they got paid for, which has kept them fighting a bit harder.

[Nav_Alpha]

Really. Really. Really enjoyed this.

Can you show us a bit of a TO&E and some fluff for the Highlanders?

[Colt Ward]

I have actually been working on a MercNet dossier, which gets into character fluff, specs and pictures as well as a contract history.  Part of the reason story bits and actual play time had dropped off.

[Nav_Alpha]

I have actually been working on a MercNet dossier, which gets into character fluff, specs and pictures as well as a contract history.  Part of the reason story bits and actual play time had dropped off.

I know that feeling - sometimes a unit that you enjoy building can take on a life of its own. And then you chuck real life in the mix and... Well, game over.

But I did want to say how much I've been enjoying these bits and pieces I've seen of the Highlanders and their struggle on Bryant

[Colt Ward]

Right now the scenario order is looking like . . .

Scout skirmish- meds, lights and conventionals in the information war

Breakout- The Regulars cannot hold the city, and have taken a pounding in the two engagements.  With reinforcements coming in (heavy mech BN) or on hand (heavy armor BN), the survivors will try to escape the siege to join up with the reinforcements.

Aero Intercept- Dropship & ASF try to bring the returning marauding heavy mech BN safely to the ground around Quillionham.  This will be new since it will really be the second Aero MM battle I have tried as part of the campaign.

Regiment vs Regiment- Now the 91st and Rebels try to hold the city against the veteran bulk of the Bryant Regulars.  The returned raiding forces are a mix of heavy and assault mechs with some medium screening elements which will be supported by the heavy armor BN (Zhukov, Po, Brutus, etc) and surviving Regulars garrison.

Which should wrap up the campaign except for perhaps a final supply raid or two.  Perhaps a extension for training with the rebel militia, then back to Fletcher where perhaps the independent goverment is looking for help against the Liao guerillas.  It's 3066 . . . and a bunch of Robes are putting in appearances in the independence capital.

[Colt Ward]

Earlier

Quillionham, Bryant
Chaos March
15 March 3064

   The Karnov never really touched down on the surface, WO Kirkpatrick was that good at his job.  The VTOL barely moved from the six tons of battle armor dropping out of the cargo bay, the pilot's hand was that steady on the controls.  Lieutenant Callahan's squad of brutes spread out across the intersection, facing outward from the craft as it rose back into the sky to continue its mission.

   Callahan's squad, six Gray Death Standard armors modified to mount a medium recoilless rifle in place of the modular weapon mount and improved sensors, were sent to find the observation point which had been detected in the area.  When the mercenaries ended up moving into the city, it would be without the Regulars watching them.  It was the veteran infantry and battle armor units job to go hunt the Regulars squads who formed the observation points and to do so on schedule.  Playing the cat and mouse game of taking them out to allow mechs and armor to move in before they could be replaced by other teams.  Somewhere in this northern tower was a team that kept an eye on the northeast of the city and the spaceport a few blocks away.  His squad would head that way after taking out the observation post team.  The Karnov lifted up several stories to drift further down the street, its down draft blasting at the troopers but not moving them.  The squad moved out along another street towards the objective building using the bounding overwatch method.  Charcoal black armored giants gracefully bounded through the cover provided by the edges of the buildings, following a map on their helmet's HUD.  The suit on point plunged through the glass doors at the base of the target tower.  The basic manipulator would not really have been able to open the door anyway.  Point kept going to the clearly marked stairs while slack cleared the rest of the lobby before covering the elevator banks.

   Callahan started issuing orders, "Anders, find a way to tap into building security.  I want you scanning the security cameras for any of the Regulars team.  Everyone else, cover positions."

   Anders worked for a few moments behind the lobby kiosk.  "Second floor, I know which room.  Monitors here are not showing anything."

   "You are on point."

*            *            *

   Corporal Prascot, formerly Private Prascot of the Bryant Regular's infantry, sat with his back against the wall in some rich CEO type's office on the building's fifth floor.  He had been given a small squad of mixed police and volunteers with an assortment of weapons to carry out the assignment of watching the northwest side of the city.  The squad of ten men were spread across the fifth floor with only three of the squad in the corner office using the long range observation equipment.  One pair were guarding the staircases, one trooper in the fifth floor elevator lobby, another was patrolling the floor while checking in with the pickets, and the other three were on their down time.  Technically Prascot was too, but he was tired of sleeping or staring at his room's ceiling.

   "Hey Corp, when we going to get real food up here?"

   "Simple Bobbi," Prascot said to the woman using the tripod mounted scope.  "When Colonel Freisland returns with his battalion to knock the damn rebels back into the Wastes where they came from.  Or Major Gredznikov decides to rotate us out, until then you get these left over 3rd Succession War delicacies."

   For emphasis he kicked one of the boxes of field rations stacked four high next to his chair.  Several rooms on the fifth floor had stacks of the ration boxes and flats of bottled water for holding the position long term.  Each trooper had been assigned a room that was 'theirs' on the interior where their personal gear had been dumped and allowed to kick back.

   Ten days in to the assignment, Prascot was dealing with mind numbing boredom.

   *         *         *   

   Anders foot had smashed the chair out of the way when he started working at the security console.  Callahan was in the same room but the rest of the squad was covering floor or access to the floor.  It was odd to see the suit hunched over the console, frozen as Anders gave his full attention to manipulating his way through the computer systems.  If the building security was completely online, Anders would spot anyone who did not belong in the tower.

   "Sir, First, Second and Third floors have spotty coverage on the cameras but the Fourth, Fifth and Sixth are offline.  Power and water are still on for the tower on the other hand, so the building can still be the observation point."

   "Right."  He toggled over to the squad channel.  "Listen up, Baker on point up the stairs.  I have slack, Anders, and finally Tsien as tail.  Donatelli and Krieg, out a window to go up the north face.  When we find the floor I expect you to crash the party we started, roger?"

   The rest of the squad all replied in the affirmative.  Baker led the way up the stairs searching for any sign of observers, though quiet was not the specialty of  a ton of walking armor.

   *      *      *   

   Prascot was still in the main observation room when the radio call came in.

   "Corp . . . I think I hear some stomping on the stairs.  I do not see anything on the next landing . . . but its loud."

   The corporal jerked upright in his chair, nearly falling forward out of it.  "Arm up.  Everyone to the stairs!"

   *      *      *   

   "LT, we just got a spike on radio traffic . . . and I think I picked up an echo from up the stairs," Anders called out.

   "Enough stealth then . . . Donatelli, Krieg, what floor are you outside of?  Do you see them?"

   "We are not picking them up, and have made our way up the outside to the fourth floor.  When you find them we will be in position."

   "Roger . . . all in!"

   At the command, heavily armored boots stomped their way up the stairwell, echoing for those above to hear.  The four suited troopers were making a lot of noise, drawing all sorts of attention to the stairs.  The attention was rewarded when a fire door slammed open with two assault rifle barrels visible from the floor above to Baker on point before four rounded objects came spinning and bouncing down the stairs.

   "Contact!  Two hostiles," the grenades went off around Baker as he started to charge harder.  "Tossed some grenades before pulling back into the fifth floor entry.  Undamaged, must have been concussion."  As Point, Baker rattled off a few rounds from the submachine gun on the left arm fit to his anti-personnel weapon mount.  The .31 caliber SMG punched rounds into the cast concrete banister, wall and steel fire door to drive the defenders back.

   Baker and those behind him did not even slow down until they had stacked up, or as close as battle armor got, half a landing down in order.  One advantage battle armor had in urban close quarters combat was they could make their own door if they built up some speed.  Half a landing gave Baker the room to build the required speed for a ton of armor to make a hole.

   The charcoal and black striped armor punched through the wall, smashing into one of Prascot's police recruits who had waited near the wall with his assault rifle trained on the door.  The man went flying from the impact, over a few desks of the secretary pool until his right boot clipped a support column which imparted a spin that ended against a filing cabinet.  Baker had paid little attention to the flying Bryant militiaman as his SMG was aimed further to the left and at a woman on the opposite side of the fire door he had made his entrance beside.  A quick burst sawed her in half below the ancient torso armor the luckless volunteer wore as protection.  She never got off a burst.

   Baker was already moving forward as the LT came through the door, firing a burst at the still stunned former police officer.  Even though battle armor was more resilient than unsuited infantry, it was still good practice to follow room clearing techniques which is what Callahan's practiced team did as they advanced onto the defended floor.

      *      *      *      

   Prascot was heading out the door when he heard an explosion, felt a slight shake in the building and two bursts of firing that sounded like cloth being ripped.  Nothing his team had sounded like those bursts, which was enough to make him remember his duty.

   "Bobbi, hold here.  Give a contact report to command."

   Prascot met the three offduty soldiers in the squad's impromptu armory, which gave him control of half his squad.  The corporal was grabbing a slugloaded heavy shotgun as he used the squad's local coms to coordinate the squad.  "Delon, pull back from the stairwell.  . . . Delon, over?"

   The pair of bursts would be his two subordinates on duty at the stairwell.  Which left two more out on the floor, Bobbi in the OP and the five in the armory which included him.

   *      *      *   

   The four suits were lined up after clearing the secretary pool.  The rest of the floor had offices, halls and other rooms to make it a maze for the squad to overcome.  While they were lined up a hostile came bursting out of one of the hall ways, his weapon not even up at the ready.  Baker on point fired a burst to the unlucky soldier, spinning him half-way around before he fell to the floor.

   "Fifth floor it is, Donatelli and Krieg, make your entrances."  Two loud concussion waves were felt nearly immediately against the suits even if the suit sound pick-ups damped it back down.  The wave of compressed air from the blast did not even bother the armored suits, they just took it as notification their squadmates were in the building once again.  Callahan's group swept deeper into the building, the explosion a distraction for anyone trying to prepare for the four.

[Colt Ward]

Quillionham, Bryant
Chaos March
16 March 3064

   The Karnov rolled to a short stop on one of the spaceport's taxi ways, the VTOL transport not even needing the length of the runways which handled the aerospace fighters and aerodyne small craft & dropships.  Waiting for the craft to stop was a single jeep captured earlier in the campaign against Bryant and used by the 91st Argyllshire Highlanders since.  Only a single person was in the wheeled transport, was a single man in a slightly worn jumpsuit who was waiting on the Karnov.

   A few men and a single woman stepped off from the Karnov's open cargo ramp, with only one heading for the jeep.  The last one was an older man in stained coveralls with bulging pockets who strolled over to the jeep following the woman, "Afternoon commander."

   "Afternoon Rourke, how was the flight?" asked the officer as the man climbed into the other front seat of the jeep.

   "Flight was pretty smooth considering the Warrant kept weaving between buildings on the outskirts of the city to reach the Smedley and the rebels.  Took a bit of rifle fire from the infantry, but those troops the Regulars armed are so green they were more of a danger to each other than us."  He chuckled, "But the tracers were sure pretty, even in daylight due to the shadows.  Saw no enemy mechs or armor on the flight, which should be obvious since we have no singe marks on the bird."

   "I did happen to see that was the case.  So, what did you work out with Smedley Amanda?"  He asked of the woman in the backseat, looking at her while he was starting up the jeep.

   "Simple really Sean, he felt it was a really good deal considering I reminded him of a few things.  Like how we supported his armament program to the point he still owes us for fronting him equipment.  Like how we collected up the equipment and personnel he is using for his power base among the forming rebel government.  Like what we are offering him still turns out to be in his favor."

   The jeep was rolling down the taxi way towards the administration facilities as she continued her explanation, "Smedley really needs the head to get his Caeser back in the fight, its a big chunk of his mech combat power.  Which means it a big part of his bargaining power of course.  We are trading him the Rifleman 5M we salvaged and a seventy ton head assembly for the Starslayer 3C and the remains of two standard GDL Scout squads.  Chief here thinks we can get three suits operational and a few spare parts for future use to keep them operational but he will have to check with Henders.  I think I can also get one of the old Panthers out of him since they are going to need our help putting everything back into fighting shape.  We can also get some support later, he will still owe us."

   The jeep pulled up to the restricted parking area outside the requisitioned headquarters, all three climbing out of the rough field vehicle.  "Alright when our equipment is back online, we can shift some support to Smedley.  We can fly the head assembly out to Smedley, but transfer of salvage mechs and equipment will have to wait until after the city is secured.  I want a transfer pilot for the Starslayer to fly over with the head, one of the cavalry lances can escort the pilot and mech back."

   Both men and the woman climbed out of the jeep, the commander saluting the guard at the secured entrance.  One more reminder for Lieutenant Colonel Campbell that after this campaign the Highlanders really needed to increase their infantry assets.  When it was just a combined arms battalion operating out of dropships the infantry company was adequate to guard mercenary assets.  Now the infantry was spread out between guard duty and leading LPOP teams of rebel infantry in the city.  Even for the base security, it was mercenary infantry leading and stiffening rebel troops who were at most the guard posts.  Absolutely critical posts were still held by only mercenary infantry and the light battle armor squad.  The temporary day room was a hub of activity as the headquarters was re-established even as the combat elements were refitting to press the offensive, The three senior members of the command passed further back into headquarters, to the tactical operations center.  The plot board displayed known Regulars positions as well as merc and rebel patrols or observation points while keeping a list of identified enemy mechs with their status.

   Another board showed the condition and location of the 91st mech, armor and aero assets, most the heavier mechs were down for repairs at the base.  Which had left two his two fastest lances out on patrol with rebel militia medium armor, infantry and Highlander battle armor squads.  "Tapping, organize a list of what sort of supplies we might need to pull from Smedley when the time comes.  But first work with Rourke to put together the list of what repair equipment and personnel we can spare to send to Smedley when our repairs are wrapping up."

   Campbell left them in the headquarters as he stepped through to a small office off the main room, letting Tapping lead the chief tech off to her administration/logistical center.

   Hours later Campbell was racked out on his office cot.  Tucked behind a blackout curtain that seperated just the cot from his desk, it made the commander easy to access from the duty officer at the headquarters.  Of course the blackout curtain just kept out most the noise and light, it was unable to silence the blaring klaxon going off across the base.  Campbell bolted upright in his cot, feet finding his boots even as he was really waking up to the alarm.  He quickly left the small office for the larger headquarters area.

   The duty officer, one of the lieutenants from the armor command, made his way over to the mercenary commanding officer.  "Sir, Banshee Lead picked up traces of mech movement from further in town, a few reactor signatures along with a single MAD reading.  The down side is they were also closing on his position.  Rest of the Banshees are moving in to support him and Major Warren is taking her lance in for support though she says the two lances could not stop a breakout.  Major Warren also ordered me to put out the alert."

   Campbell followed the duty officer over to the map board.  Lieutenant Walker Hobbes in his Men Shen was out on the east flank of the picket line nearest the river.  Campbell looked at the status board before turning to the duty officer, checking repair status before he issued any orders.

   "Lieutenant, I want my command lance, Patric's, Cysco's, Armor's A Company, B Company's Spearhead lance and the battle armor to prepare for movement.  I want a route of march planned for advance, get Major Petrov in to run HQ.  Captain Winston is to put her operational mechs on the defensive line around the spaceport with the remaining armor."

   As the lieutenant acknowledged the order, Banshee Lead broke in on the radio again, "Highlander Six, contacts firming up.  Looks like a company or more of mechs and  . . . two companies of vehicles.  Might have a breakout, over!"

   Campbell was out the door after the last sentence, his Battlemaster was a short drive in the ready jeep.  The first mech, a captured Gallowglas was already moving out as one of the ready force and more were following.

   The assembled company of mechs were followed by the heavy armor elements down the roads to intercept the breakout.  Banshee Lead had spotted some of the actual mechs and armor, engaging from as much distance as possible.

*         *         *

   Lieutenant Hobbes leaned his Men Shen into the fire from the lead elements, a Bryant Eagle scout and the last pirate Wasp.  The pirate leader's Watchman fired on Noah Flaugherty's Chameleon, the heavier medium mech taking the damage on the armor.  A Bryant Vedette missed with its main gun, taking a bite off the corner of the building over Flaugherty's shoulder.  Hobbes took medium laser and short range missile hits to his armor from the two light mechs, one missile's concussion was enough to knock his right arm off target.  The other large pulse laser jabbed through the Eagle's armor where the right arm joined the torso, causing the arm to sag against the light mech's chest.  Bryant Regular vanguard units were attempting to close with the Banshee pickets, obviously wanting to blow their way through any blocking attempt.

   Hobbes set his bird legged mech stepping backward to move behind buildings, which allowed only a single mech to fire in his direction.  The icon for Brem Robinson's Wraith was jumping closer to the fighting followed by Jane Campbell's Bloodhound racing up an avenue.  The lance commander fired both large pulse lasers and his single extended range small laser at the Wasp 3M with Dalton's Pack logo on its chest.  The upgraded bug mech had come looking for him, trying to pin him down while heavier mechs and armor closed.  Brave but foolish, a large pulse laser burned the armor, myomer and structure of the left arm before punching into the left torso.  The other easily penetrated Ferro-Fibrous armor to sever the Endo Steel thigh bone which sent the 20 ton mech to the pavement.  "Wasp down!" the Kilbourne native called out over the lance channel in crisp Prince's English.  "Brem, I want you to help Banshee Two with the Watchman."

   Almost immediately Flaugherty came back, "Damn . . . took an engine hit.  Frigging techs still have not got the side torso properly reinforced."

   A mech came out of the sky to Hobbes left, the missing Eagle.  He swung the recticle over the light while from the corner of his eye he saw the larger Wraith perform the same trick against the pirate commander's Watchman.  Both of his shots pounded on the mech's armor while it missed.

   The Eagle fled on jump jets, the Beagle Active Probe on his medium mech let him track it until it dropped behind a block of concrete and steel.  The Lieutenant switched to the battalion command net.  "Boar Six, Banshee is pulling back before we get overrun.  Regulars are moving up at flank, we will attempt to slow them down without being decisively engaged," a quick scan of his sensor readings before he continued.  "Show One Six Bravo Mikes, One Zero Alpha plus more Victors.  Looks like all of them, we need back up over."

   Lieutenant Colonel Campbell's response came back slightly fuzzy.  "Banshee Six, roger.  Valkyrie element enroute to your position.  Do not get tied down, heavy elements also en route.  Prepare to spot for artillery, over."

   "Banshee Six, wilco."  Now his lance just had to survive until the help arrived.  Usually it was the heavy mechs leading the fight while Banshee swept in from the flanks.

[Colt Ward]

   Contact was made . . . and the contact bred chaos.  When the company of mostly heavy mechs backed up by a company of tracked armor slammed into the escorts of the Regulars' supply convoy, the defenders were forced into desperate fights.  The supply vehicles, hovercraft, tracked and wheeled APCs, J-27 ammuniton carriers, flatbed trucks, and other cargo haulers scrambled to get out of the way from the fighting.  A Stinger perched atop a building who was controlling indirect missile fires collapsed when the 91st's Thug punched a bolt of particles through its left leg just above the knee.  The light mech collapsed onto the roof.

   Two artillery impacts had dropped into the lead elements of convoy, knocking 3rd Lance's Lieutenant Hoskins down and shrapnel into the lead APC.  The mercenary Wraith was moving about using pulse lasers to harass the pirate Watchman before finally cutting the right leg off.  One of the Baron's Lineholders had a torso penetrated by large pulse lasers from a Highlander Men Shen, only to have it swing back around the block moments later to take off the right arm and a extended range small laser vaporize half the protection on the head.  It had to have been a brutal hit since the Lineholder had collapsed, letting the Men Shen team up with a Chameleon to destroy the left leg.

   It had not all gone the mercenary's way.  One of the point mechs claimed to have caught a heat bloom on the Chameleon meaning they had gotten a piece of its fusion engine.  It was probably the case since the mech was not firing as often and seemed to disappear for cooling.  Gridznikov had been part of forcing a Thug to retreat due to armor damage from the intersection blocking his team's advance.  It had not fallen, but at least it was not pressing forward.

   Major Gredznikov rested in the command couch of his Thunderbolt, unable to abandon his downed machine.  The hatch had jammed, either from damage while fighting or when the heavy mech had been knocked down in the street laying partially in a building.  Power had been stepped down when all targets moved out of sight and range, the enemy assault and heavy mechs leaving his crippled machine for clean up.  For now the commander of Quillionham's Bryant Regulars defensive forces listened to the battle winding down.  By the time he had fallen, five other battlemechs had been disabled though really he should count the Quickdraw as a sixth since artillery fire had knocked it flat and damaged the gyro.  In no way was it fast enough to flee or use its jump jets.  Half a dozen supply vehicles had been knocked out as well, but a few had been able to make its way through the net.  Several of the faster mechs had also fallen victim to the heavier firepower when they were caught in the open, like the Stinger.

   The sounds of battle faded, and the radio quit broadcasting chatter through the city's interference.  The slight bit of sky to the north he could see through the caved in wall had long since turned black.  Some of the fighting had either intentionally or accidentally caught something on fire and would be a threat to both forces if not controlled.  All that was left was the pinging of hot metal as it cooled, his mech's armor and internal parts still shedding heat from the battle he lost.

   A ringing knock sounded on the ferro-glass of his cockpit.  Standing on the Thunderbolt's chest just below the cockpit glass was some sort of battle armor suit.  The major had not studied the latest sorts that were on the market.  The suited trooper placed a cone-shaped device on the glass before backing off out of sight.  The mechwarrior braced himself for the ferro-glass to blow inward, shattered by the breaching charge.

   The voice he heard instead was a suprise.  The voice was tinny and distant, but understandable.  "Attention, your mech is disabled.  Your forces have fled, abandoning you to us.  Surrender the Thunderbolt to us Major, or we will let the rebels dig you out of that cockpit when they catch up to our position."

   The major had not set off the scuttling charge for the ammo bins, which would have destroyed his mech.  He did not want to die, he was just a hired gun far from home.  However he had no other bargaining chips except for this heavy mech and what he knew was coming.


*      *      *


   Gredznikov found himself placed in what appeared to be a interview room located in the same building at the spaceport that was being used for his detention.  He had not seen any other prisoners, though it appeared the building's conversion was a bit hasty.  Not that he intended to try to escape.  The rebel forces controlled the country and the residents of the city he had fought over would show him no love having brought war to their homes instead of fighting outside the city.  No, he wanted to brush the dust of this planet off his boots to never see it again.  At least he had caught up on some of his sleep after they removed him from the Thunderbolt Dvensky had assigned him in the Bryant Regulars.

   His restraints, high security shackles, were chained to the table which in turn was bolted to the floor.  Whoever wanted to meet him was playing games, keeping him waiting alone to show their importance.

   After ten minutes, the door opened to admit three people and a whiff of smoke from one of them.  The first was a red headed woman, who looked a bit worn and dressed in a green standard mechwarrior jumpsuit.  Something put on before leaving the cockpit, it lacked insignia or name badge.  The last man in was a blonde giant who had to worry about his head striking the ceiling when he moved about.  He wore infantry boots and gray combat utilities, a massive amount of fabric had to be used to leave them loose and baggy on the man.  Gredznikov had never seen anyone so large.  The middle person to enter was a man roughly as old as he was, seemed every bit as tired, and carried a large rough duty noteputer.  The man kept his dark brown hair cut short, carried himself well and wore a cleaner copy of the mechwarrior jumpsuit with insignia.  The name badge said 'Campbell' which took a moment to penetrate.

   The captured officer tried to stand, but his restraints stopped him midway.  "Apologies Colonel, I did not know it was you."

   Campbell waved him down as he and the woman took two seats at the table opposite of him while the giant held up the wall.  "No reason you should, we make some effort to be discreet.  Major Gridznikov, you told Captain Horn here that you have some some information to trade?"

   The former major leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow him.  "I want off this planet, I was hired on Outreach.  I want my personnel effects.  I want to avoid dealing with the rebels.  I want to take the Thunderbolt with me."

   The victorious mercenary commander looked at his fellow hired gun.  "The Thunderbolt is salvage covered under our contract, the rest is negotiable for what you have to tell me."

   Realizing it was the best he was going to get, Gridznikov let pass most of what he knew.  "You missed a heavy armor battalion setting down in the barrens.  Do not ask me where, the Viscount did not tell me.  They have been out there for about a week, but they are the lesser of your worries.  Sometime in the next two weeks the raiding battalion under Colonel Freisland is going to land.  Dvensky wanted us to get out with ammo, techs and parts in case the Colonel had anything he needed to work up after his last raid.  Our lighter forces were also supposed to form a screen for his assault and heavy battlemechs along with the armor.  You are going to have more trouble against him than you did my Cossacks.  Freisland's Fighters are veterans on the offense, better pilots than my troops, and have almost all of Dvensky's assaults.  Most are gauss rifle armed Victors, but he has a solid group of line heavies to support them."

   Campbell nodded slowly before he started, "Well, most of what you say checks out.  The rest we will investigate.  If what you say is true, we will put you on the earliest supply ship out.  I invite you and your senior surviving officers to dine with my senior officers tonight, your personnel effects will shortly be returned to you after Intelligence is finished with them."

   The redhead had said nothing but stood when Campbell had finished, proceeding him out the door as the three left the room.



*      *      *



   When evening came, Highlander infantry came to escort him from his cell across the tarmac to the officers' mess.  The mess had been one of the better chain resturants for this section of space, so the decor was suitable to the function.  Walking across the tarmac he had seen the row of salvaged mechs, what looked like dead bodies laid out side by side.  They were even covered by tarps like fallen soldiers would be, though for the machines it was to preserve what had survived by keeping the weather out.  The mercenary techs were not even working on them yet, rather they were repairing the limited damage his destroyed command had done to the mercenary machines.  A few had also started working on the larger better conditioned mechs that had been surrendered like Johan's Archer.  Or putting replacement armor on the Goblin and Brutus tanks, equipment they can easily get back out into the field.

   Green coolant had flowed down the Archer's right leg, likely a leak from some internal leak that had not been critical in battle.  The sight of dead mechs seemed to fit with the setting sun as if signifying an end.

[Colt Ward]

OOC-

This battle was a bit interesting, even with a lot of older 3025 designs as part of the Regular's defense units nothing blew apart from ammo crits.  Many Regular's mechs lost legs so they were salvageable, the only one that could not be taken off the field was a Panther 9R that got its center torso kicked in by a Gallowglas and Grasshopper.  Even with the backers splitting the salvage, its still quite a haul for the mercenaries.  They lack the pilots and vehicle crews on planet to throw any auxilliary lances for their forces, but they can trade salvage with the two rebel groups to get more supplies or cherry pick something they eventually want to use.  Or if they lose anything in the coming multi-battalion engagement, there are some choices though they already have some lighter back ups being repaired in down time (Starslayer for one).

What escaped were six mechs, three were savaged (Eagle, Chimera, Vindicator) and two of the Vedettes were pretty heavily dinged up.  No ammo or fuel made it out, but techs, parts and rations did escape through the smoke.

Mobile
Valkyrie QA
Archer 2R
Vindicator 3L
Goblin (LRM)
Goblin (LRM)
Brutus
Partisan (LRM)
Vedette
Tanker x2

Leg'd/Gyro
Thunderbolt 5S
Quickdraw 4H
Watchman 4M
Lineholder 3
Lineholder 3
Valkyrie QA
Stinger
Wasp 3M
Vindicator 1R

Destroyed
Panther 9R (CT kicked in)

Vehicles Down
Zhukov Heavy Tank
Flatbed x2
Heavy Tracked APC
J-27 Ordance Transport

Vehicles Destroyed
J-27 Ord Transport x2

[Colt Ward]

Quillionham, Bryant
Chaos March
3 April 3064

   Near Space Sensor Watch was the responsibility of the Claymore's crew today, yesterday it had been the Mountain Rose's crews task.  Generally it was boring duty as the computers did most the work leaving the single crewman on duty to also play the Captain's yeoman, signing off on electronic paperwork that kept track of everything.  Submit the requisition for this week's ration allotment, send parts requests to the Ms Tapping as part of her logistics duties, or other mundane but required paperwork all while keeping an eye on the console linked into the spaceport's overhead sensor net.

   After the 91st Argyllshire Highlander's aero lance managed to bring down a Bryant Regulars Leopard, the Viscount had not put any thing up over the southern hemisphere.  Command knew the Bryant Regulars raiding battalion was offplanet but due to return soon, and Rebel intel from Dvensky's capital said the return would be soon.

   Beeping and a flashing light on the sensor screen said it would be very soon indeed.  "Captain Drosse, this is Sensors.  Sir we just picked up a incoming dropship, starting plot tracking and follow up scans."  The tech dumped the document file into storage after he finished informing the captain.  Supply forms were suddenly less than important.

   The old wheeled transport, still called a jeep for some unknown reason, skidded to a stop outside the mercenary headquarters.  Captains Drosse and Sinclair both leaped from the vehicle as the driver moved off to park in the temporary slots.  The commander of the Iron Angels, the ASF support for the Highlanders, arrived in a similar manner.

   Inside the command post, which never slept even during the stand down after the city was taken, operations emphasis had shifted from ground based combat to space combat operations.  Lieutenant Colonel Campbell was waiting beside the map table while a staffer updated the orbital map.  The mercenary commander looked for the updating map to the three officers who had made their way past the security checkpoint.

   "Gentlemen . . . this is your area of expertise, what should our response in the air be?  The ground forces have already prepared for the next phase of the campaign, but if we can weaken them let us do so."  LTC Campbell pointed at the five dropships on the map, "That is the main strike force of the enemy and the primary target of our contract.  If everything lands and is operational from their earlier raids, they will have equal numbers with the total merc & rebel force but will outmass us.  The heavy armor Intel says is out there definately tips the mass into their favor.  Can we cut down the odds?"

   The three aerospace officers looked at each other, Drosse and Curry deferring to Sinclair as the senior pilot in the Highlanders.  "Sir . . . we can try.  The weakest ship in their fleet is probably the Leopard," he pointed at its location behind the heavier dropships.  "Which is why they seem to be screening it.  It may not make much of a difference on the ground, usually the only carry a lance of mechs but it is the easiest target.  We could go for the Jumbo or Gazelle instead, but the Jumbo may only be carrying loot from the raids.  Unless Intel can tell us something, that leaves the Gazelle carrying some of their ground forces.  Which leaves the Unions; stock they are not as powerful as the Claymore, but there are two of them.  Also, the dropships are our only way home so we will not be risking them too much.

   "So yes sir, we can go up and give it a shot but I can make no promises on the results."

Defenders- 91st Argyllshire Highlanders & Auxillaries
Dropships
Fortress (obs/mod) class Dropship Claymore
Mule (mod) class Dropship Mountain Rose
Leopard (obs/mod) class Dropship Longboat

AeroFighters
F-90 Stingray
LCF-R15 Lucifer
RGU-133E Rogue
SYD-Z1 Seydlitz   

Auxillaries
Gazelle (obs CV) class Dropship Preybird
F-92 Stingray
TR-10 Transit
TR-10 Transit
CSR-V12M Corsair
TR-7 Thrush
TR-7 Thrush

Attackers- Freisland's Fighters (BN), Bryant Regulars
Dropships
Union (obs)
Jumbo
Gazelle (mech)
Union (obs)
Leopard (obs/mod)

AeroFighters
LCF-R15
LCF-R15
Corsair V14
Corsair V14
Sparrowhawk H5
Sparrowhawk H5

[snakespinner]

Looks like an aerospace battle about to be played out.
The loss of even one union will make a significant flow on effect on the ground.
Ram it.

[Colt Ward]

Been a while but played this out on TT . . .

Mackinaw Valley, Bryant
Chaos March
9 April 3064

   More of the rebel forces were still making their way into the Mackinaw Valley west of the city to secure the battlefield and the salvage if nothing else.  The Highlander's veteran heavy lance had been called on a collection of the survivors which had managed to get off the Union dropship critically damaged in orbit.  Quillionham's spaceport radar had followed the wreckage as it broke up in orbit though patterns indicated someone had been ejecting mechs which were scattered across the horizon.  Miraculously seven of the Viscount's heavier had managed to link up in their desperate run for friendly territory, which was the firebase the rest of the dropship squadron had set down on.  The southern continent was firmly in the rebel's grip, in fact one Regular's MechWarrior had already found that out the hard way, killed while sleeping by a angry hunter.
 
   The seven Regulars' mechs had been spotted by a pair of light mechs from the duke's allied forces, calling in the nearest friendly forces which had been two lances of the Highlanders.  The first lance to arrive had been the veteran heavy lance which had taken up firing positions behind some low hills and engaged the Regulars.  Rushing into the brewing fight had been a medium scout lance, their fresh mechs pushing the damaged surviving Regulars off the battlefield.  The last three mechs had escaped across the Mackinaw Narrows Bridge, concentrated fire collapsing the span to prevent most followers.  The two medium Highlander pilots had declined to follow.
 
   Campbell walked his Battlemaster through the pass that opened out into the five square kilometers that was the battle site, following where his veteran lance had run to intercept the Regulars.  The first thing he saw, and highlighted by the sensor suite as hostile, was a powered down Awesome 9Q two hundred meters from the narrows bridge and freedom.  The lumbering hulk of armor was still radiating heat, the initial report was that it had spent the last minute of action firing all four Particle Projection Cannons trying to break out though the Awesome pilot had only secured the escape of three others as engine and heat sink damage had caused a spike until it shut down.
 
   Turning on a switchback cleared the Ironhide trees so that he could also spot more heavy metal, three from his Highlanders and two from the Regulars.  The Orion looked like a standing scrap pile with armor in bare tatters on the chest while the legs and arms were nothing but exposed myomer, acutators, internal structure and weapons.  It did seem to sag a bit to its left front, but that was also the direction of a face-planted Victor assault mech.  From this distance he could not tell which might be smoking, given the damage to the Orion it could be the Highlander mech.  No matter what, it was still functional enough to shoot, move and communicate which is how Captain Winston had sent her sitrep.  In a bit better shape than the Orion was the Highlander's Bandersnatch which had a bit more armor on it, but according to the report was missing armor over its center mass.  Lying on its side three hundred meters in front of the Bandersnatch was medium mech which had plowed into the turf at a decent clip.  Winston's report said it was a Hunchback, the big AC/20 was what had hammered the Bandersnatch when the medium had rounded the hill to get in the face of the Highlander's mech.
 
   The final mech seemed to be resting on its back, its hand-less arms pointed up into the air.  The barrels that replaced those hands showed signs of carbon scoring, and the mech looked perfectly intact until you understood the appearance of only one foot turned up was not a optical illusion.  A pile of debris leaning against a Ironhide on the hill was probably what was left of the leg when it was shot away.  Other smoke drifted up from the low hills of the river valley signaling more of the detritus of war.

   Campbell stopped his Battlemaster on the last high ground before reaching the valley floor, letting the rest of his lance pass by- ancient Warhammer, a Marauder whose armor shell deceptively looked like a 3 series. and the tail brought up by a Zeus.  The other three mechs of his lance began to fan out taking up security positions with the medium lance.  Marquis Smedley's two surviving scout mechs were also making extended sweeps to help secure the area.  VTOLs had brought in battle armor, rebel infantry and a few techs for assessment.  A convoy prime movers, heavy mech recovery vehicles, and a tech truck was under escort by Major Warren's medium lance and some hovertanks.

   As the Zeus marched into the valley, the Colonel opened a single channel to the pilot.  "Corporal Kowalski, you will find something for you on the other side of that far hill."

   It was not often you could find enjoyment on the battlefield, but it was what he expected today.

   The open channel erupted, "Oh my baby . . . what did they do to you!"

   Timothy Kowalski found the mech he had been looking for, the his family Rifleman that had been stolen when Viscount Dvensky's Bryant Regulars betrayed mercenaries in their employ.  The 91st Argyllshire Highlanders had escaped the trap meant to sacrifice them to corporate guards while the Regulars took captured Victors away.

   Today the Rifleman would be returned to Kowalski's family as one of the stipulations of the contract, it was outside the usual salvage clauses.  Which left a Awesome 9Q, Victor 9D, Thunderbolt 7SE and Hunchback 5N, to be split between Marquis Smedley's Guard who spotted them, the mercenaries who brought them down, and the backers of the rebellion.

[snakespinner]

Looks like your unit did the fighting and will end up with only 1 mech as salvage.
Go for the Awesome, always a favourite of mine. O0

[Dave Talley]

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