Dangerous Acquaintances
Ruins of Port Emerson
Rocky, Prefecture X
Republic of the Sphere
24 April 3085
“See anything yet, Raven Three?”
“Only more snow, Raven Actual.”
Inside the cockpit of his Warhammer, Amand Beziz sighed to himself. The front viewscreen matched the report, showing what amounted to a white blur, punctuated by the occasional, somewhat indistinct, grey blob. It was the same thing that he and the rest of his company had been seeing for hours now, and it ever-increasingly felt like they’d continue to see it for the rest of eternity.
“Remind me why we’re here,” another voice cut into the command circuit.
“You know why, Raven Four,” he replied, his tone harsh.
“Fine. Then why the hell is our target here?”
That he couldn’t answer, which annoyed him to no end. “Well, when we find him, we’ll be sure to ask,” he finally added.
That was the part that bothered him, which Amand couldn’t help but consider as his BattleMech slowly advanced through the snow. He slowed to manoeuvre around a building, half of which was buried under centuries of snow and ice before collecting his thoughts. The Black Ravens had come to this buried city on a dead world for one very specific reason; to hunt one man.
“Still nothing,” Three continued. “Between the blizzard and the magscan interference from the buildings, I might as well be blind. They could be right next to me and I wouldn’t see a thing.”
It was taking a lot for Amand not to snap in frustration, instead focusing on the job and his duty. Since its formation, the Republic had been chasing up ‘loose ends’ from the Jihad, doing their best to see them resolved, one way or another.
Their target, Thomas Fairchild, was one such loose end. A mercenary who had worked for the Word during the Jihad, he had committed numerous heinous acts for the fanatics that clearly went beyond regular mercenary service. The Republic wanted him alive to pry the secrets from him; to learn who was giving him his orders and why.
Fairchild had proven to be an elusive target, going to ground after the Jihad and making every effort to evade his pursuers. He had good reason to as well; besides the Republic, Loki were also after him, looking to reclaim their wayward son. And if that happened, whatever secrets he possessed would likely die with him. Loki were many things, but forgiving was not one of those. So the Republic’s goal was not just to bring him in, but to make sure that nobody got to him first.
Not that Fairchild was going to make it easy on them.
The crunching of snow underfoot and the howl of the wind outside was persistent and annoying. The conditions were perfect for their prey to hide in, or even provide cover for him to escape under. Maybe that’s why he’s here, Amand considered. Not only would nobody think to look for him on this snowball, but once they got there he could easily get away. It did fit with their experiences on the chase so far, much to his frustration.
“Raven Two here,” another voice crackled into the channel. “Think I have something.”
“Roger that,” Amand confirmed. “All units, stand by.” This could be it: the moment he’d been waiting for.
Their last stop had been on Thorin, where they had apparently missed Fairchild by a matter of days. He and his men had abandoned their refuge in a hurry, leaving behind enough evidence to indicate where they were going: a dead world that had long since fallen off the map. On the way out they had hijacked a merchantman to take them to their destination in an act that likely was both spontaneous and well-executed.
Raven Company had found the merchant ship after they’d jumped in-system. The crew had put up no resistance when boarded and had gladly cooperated with Amand. They confirmed that the target had left on a DropShip, heading to the once-inhabited planet.
“Negative on that,” Two’s voice cut in again. “It was just a construction crane.”
Damn it. “Understood. Continue search.”
Fairchild being here did make some sense. Throughout the Jihad, the Word had made use of supposedly dead or abandoned worlds as bases of operations, waystations, supply depots and whatever else. A place this close to Terra would have been perfect for them.
The irony was not lost on Amand. Generations ago, his own family had come from some world that had since fallen victim to the Succession Wars.
They knew that Fairchild had made planetfall. A bit of detective work through combing logs and overflights had given the rough location where he’d put down, a fact process helped by the fact that the planet was otherwise quiet. In many ways, this final step, actually bringing him in, was proving to be the hardest part of it.
“I have something,” Three spoke up. “I’m getting some EM noise; not natural, and definitely deliberate. Looks like a Guardian ECM system.”
“Roger that,” Amand nodded. “Keep tracking it. That’s our lead.”
“Did the target have an ECM?” Four butted in.
“He’s piloting a Mad Cat,” Armand reminded him. “Right now he could be carrying anything.” Which was a factor that worked both for and against them. Fairchild’s was hard to predict for a number of reasons, but the fact that he was in an OmniMech was key among them. On the other hand, a Mad Cat was going to stand out, no matter what.
“Signal’s increasing,” Three continued. “I think we have him.”
“All units, converge on Three’s location,” Amand ordered, wheeling his Warhammer around to rendezvous with his lancemate. “Eyes open, weapons hot. Be ready for anything.”
“Taking fire!” Three called out, a crackle of interference filling his voice. “Getting laser fire coming at me... stray missiles too.” The situation would work as much in their favour as against it, with the combination of the blizzard and ruined buildings cutting down ranges.
“Keep eyes on the target,” he ordered. “On my way.” He pushed open the throttle, his Warhammer breaking into a run through the dead city. His tactical display showed the other members of his unit joining him, converging on Three’s location.
A single red icon appeared, its presence flickering on and off as his sensors tried to burn through the interference. Moments later it appeared on his heads-up display, a red square bracketing an unknown hostile target. Not wanting to take the chance, Amand opened fire, his twin particle cannons spitting blue lightning into the fog towards the target. Heat washed over him from the discharge, the cockpit suddenly blistering hot despite the chill outside.
More fire lit up the desolate landscape as the battle was joined. As his forces closed in, more red icons appeared on the display as Fairchild’s forces rallied to defend their fallback. He’s choosing to fight, Amand considered as he fired again, the freezing air outside helping to cool his ‘Mech. If he’s doing that, he must be out of options.
He pressed forwards, continuing his advance on that first target. A pair of lasers shot out from it, one scoring armour from the Warhammer’s side. A moment later, a flight of missiles surged towards him, their trajectory scattered by the winds, resulting in only a few making their mark. Large lasers and long-range missiles, he considered. Could be...
Amand pushed forwards, keeping his sights on the indistinct shape ahead. Switching to thermal he could vaguely make out its shape; bird legs, a hunched-forward torso and splayed-out arms, crowned with boxy missile launchers. Got him. He fired again, this time seeing a flare of blue energy in the distance as his shot made its mark. “All units, I have him. Focus fire on my target.”
In response, several more shots leapt out, blasting into the enemy ‘Mech. While hampered by the storm and cover, it clearly took a few hits, including one that caused it to stagger for a moment. That’s got his attention, he considered as he pushed forwards. Now let’s end this chase.
Fairchild’s men weren’t holding back either, quickly responding to the threat to their leader. A Firestarter pushed forwards towards him, possibly trying to interpose between Amand and his target. It loosed a pair of large laser shots, one slicing armour from the Warhammer’s side.
Before it could close in, the Firestarter was rocked by a massive hit to its side that sent it sprawling. Raven Two’s Osprey closed in on the enemy BattleMech, following through with a pair of lasers. “I got this,” he called out. “Get Fairchild.”
“Thanks,” Amand managed, turning his attention back to his target. Even though its shape was still little more than a blob in the snow, there was no mistaking it. Closing up the distance, he again opened fire with his PPCs, both shots smashing into the enemy ‘Mech’s flank. His wounded opponent twisted around, trying to backpeadal towards cover while continuing to fire its large lasers and missiles.
More hits struck the Warhammer, shaking the seventy-ton BattleMech. A quick glance at the damage display told Amand that his armour was holding for the moment, making him confident to keep pushing forward on his target. If anything, Fairchild’s men seemed to be ill-prepared, caught on the back foot by the attack. I guess they didn’t expect us to come after them here, he considered.
His opponent wasn’t about to go down easily, however. Pushing forwards, Amand walked into a wall of fire coming from the other ‘Mech. A quartet of lasers was accompanied by a flight of missiles pummelled the Warhammer, staggering it backwards. Doing his best to keep the huge machine under control, he replied in kind.
Both PPCs were joined by a pair of medium lasers, as well as a flight of Streak SRMs. The heat hit Amand with hammer force in the cockpit, but the enemy ‘Mech fared even worse. The thermal image of the machine was already bright from its own volley, but flared even brighter as his shots struck home. Must have cracked the engine shielding, Amand considered to himself, even as sweat trickled down his brow. Even in this cold he must be roasting in there.
As if to conform his suspicions, the target tried to pull back again, its movements suddenly slow and clumsy. It opened fire again, this time a half-volley that was more aimed at worrying its target than stopping it. None the less, alarms went off as one of those shots tore through the Warhammer’s side, slagging one of the lasers.
Amand wasn’t going to let that stop him. He replied with the PPCs again, topped off with his Streak SRM launcher. The volley slammed into the enemy ‘Mech, blasting through armour and tearing into its ravaged structure. The machine flared a brilliant white for a moment before its heat signature went dark; moments later, its shape crumpled and collapsed to the ground. “Primary is down,” he called out, the triumph creeping into his voice.
Around him, the remaining enemy ‘Mechs were clearly being pushed back, having been isolated form each other and left unable to provide support. Seeing an opening, he took an opportunistic shot at the back of an enemy Buccaneer, his PPC fire eating through it’s armour and staggering the ‘Mech. A moment later, Two added to its distress with a gauss rifle shot smashing through a leg.
“Get Fairchild,” Two called out. “We’ll mop up here.”
He stepped forward, approaching the downed BattleMech. As he did, he could make out more details of his target, his triumph quickly fading as he did. The shapes were there; the bird-like legs, hunched-over torso and boxy missile launchers, but the details were off. The torso too boxy and angular, legs too thick, exposed weapon barrels on the arms instead of the hexagonal housings. Immediately he recognised the wreck for what it was.
A Rakshasa, a BattleMech deliberately designed to mimic the Mad Cat. And between the blizzard and the cover, its shape and weapon load had been enough to fool Amand.
“Raven Actual?” Two’s voice came into the channel. “What’s our status?”
Damn him, Amand thought to himself. All of a sudden a lot of things were becoming clear. “Target has escaped,” he managed. “Mop up the remaining hostiles and bring in who you can.” He was never here, was he? He considered. This was an elaborate false trail, one we’ve been following for months. He thought about the trail of evidence that bought him here. Years, maybe.
So where the hell are you?