OBT Forum

Bruce (On the ground, a bit worse for wear.)

   The TACNET whined in my skull like a nagging parent that’s what finally woke me.  I’d managed to survive my landing but as my head cleared, I saw plenty of yellows on Hussy’s displays.  A quarter of my armor gone, right ankle twisted; the myomer kinked in a couple of places. A RimJob trooper trying to fix a satchel charge to my cockpit window….. The 5cm laser in my right arm went from green to red and back again; some kinda short. Wait a minute.  WTF.

   Hussy responded to my thoughts with motion, I can only imagine the look on the Rimmer’s face as Hussy stood.  Like some medieval peasant come face to face with a waking dragon.  With pretty much the same ending.  I felt the satchel charge go off against my foot as it slammed into the Rim Worlds trooper and passed through him with about as much resistance as you’d feel if you kicked a tube of toothpaste. 

Yuck.
 
I sprayed laser fire into the row of parked cars the Rimmers took cover in.  Mind you the power a Magna MK IV 5cm laser puts out can cause even steel to burn, so hiding behind a car, not the best option.   A fuel cell ignited in one of the cars sending bits of steel and human flying.

   City Hall, I thought absently looking around.  Training really does take over by the way, for the record, my mind wasn’t really functioning for those first few seconds.  It wasn’t until I headed up Broadway towards a cluster for green IFF symbols that my brain registered as the rest of my company that I realized how close to becoming a pasty mess for some salvage crew I’d actually come.

   Shit.

   I could hear Gracie Liu and Jack Benning tangling with a mixed lance two blocks up so I hustled up the street and around the corner just as Gracie screamed out.

   â€Atlas!”

   Gracie and Jack both piloted Lynxes, medium weight ‘Mechs long on fire power but add even an older model AS-7D to the mix of Manticore MBTs and Infantry they were facing and you’ve got a negative outcome in the making.  This Atlas however, must have been looted from one of our own depots cause it tore in to Gracie’s Lynx “Bitch Queen” with a Gauss slug and a pair of heavy lasers on it’s arms. 

   â€œWatch it guys, this asshole’s in a –7T.” I yelled as I pulled all my triggers.  Hussy shrieked as her 300 extra light reactor struggled to provide the power for what’s known as an Alpha Strike.  Terran ‘Mechs are made better than anything the provincial House Lords can field, we hit harder move faster and are tougher to kill.  Even so the wave of heat overwhelmed the armored cooling suit I wore.  Was worth it tho’.

   The RimJob in the Atlas had been so fixated on taking out “Bitch Queen” he’d actually not even seen me.  The faulty right arm laser failed but its’ sister in my left arm carved the shark insignia on the Atlas’ right torso.  The lash of the twin Magna Hellstars mated to the lasers met in the same place and the glow of molten metal turning into vapor made my neurohelmet visor black out the hit to save my eyes.  So I missed my gauss slug punching through to go skipping down the street.  The hits twisted the armored giant around and knocked him down. As it rose the skull face on the hundred tonner gave me a dirty look. (If you don’t believe me then go pick a fight with one, they’re made that way, I swear, Tigers Honor.)  It then proceeded to kick my ass.  Hussy actually came off of the ground as the massed firepower of the Atlas punched into her lower torso.  Beer can shaped short ranged missiles punched holes in her armor, 8cm laser fire carved into one of these openings slashing into my reactor shielding.  As heat welled up from the reactor hit the Atlas’ own gauss rifle hit me in what would have been Hussy’s crotch.  I doubled over in her linear frame spreading my arms for balance and sending the claw footed machine on its toes.  Warning lights screamed red and yellow, the unnerving calm of Hussy’s computer warned of imminent shut down.  Thumbing the macro for shutdown override, I popped the RimJobber with another gauss slug.  Gracie and jack both told me I was cursing up a storm and carrying on like some mad preacher about how these Amaris scum would pay for their sins etc, etc.

   Truth be told I don’t remember a thing.

     All around me things were happening so fast, Jack polishing off the last of the Manticores.  Some of our SAS boys and girls riding an Amaris Phoenix Hawk to the ground and leaping off in their NightHawk suits to assault a Hunchback trying to flank us.  The Atlas and I trading fire. A bunch of partisans linking up with us and keeping the swarming Amaris infantry from swamping us.  Our Fire Lance linking up with us just in time as the Atlas’ friends came out to play.  Pushing them back the Atlas dies at St. Marks place from Cranial Gauss Trauma. Six ‘Mechs from 2nd Company link up with us at 14th street five from 1st Company two blocks later.  We break them at 23rd street just outside of Madison Square Park.  Hussy succumbs to massed fire there, losing your ‘Mechs like loosing your dog, but I’m out of the cockpit shooting an Amaris trooper who couldn’t have been more than sixteen.  My Colt Half Rifle turns his head into mist as I pour fire into him.  A NightHawk trooper cut’s his buddies down with 12mm machinegun fire.  I grab a partisan former NYPD by the look of her; she’s got a PRC1170 radio clipped to her belt.  Need that to call fire support.  The six Bombardiers I’ve got are all Royal Models and can drop their missiles with pinpoint accuracy.  Concentrated fire kills a Stalker and shatters a company of Amaris Regulars.  Then it’s over.  None of that “the silence was deafening” bullshit, just a shift in the cacophony.  A call from partisans on 26th street gets my attention.  On the way over as I’m lighting a cigarette, I realize the cops’ still there.  Tall must be a body builder, dusky skin and cobalt eyes.

   â€œGot a name lady?”

   â€œNicole, Nicole Osis, sir”

   Sir, Who the hell is that, oh yeah, me.

   â€œStick with me Tiger, need that radio and  it looks like everybody here knows you.”

   â€œTiger?”

   â€œYou’ve fought before right, she nods, so tiger”

   I nod my chin a bunch of civilians who’d come out of their boltholes and were staring around aimlessly.

   â€œNot like them, Turtles, all baby fat around the brain.”

Osis shrugs and follows, a squad of SAS at our backs.  I wonder why I haven’t heard from anybody up the chain of command in our battalion, I knew Captain Matos bit it during the drop but the Major? Nobody seemed to know not even Root Beer Able Battalion’s senior company commander and the Colonel’s son; Alex Winter (A&W get it, Root Beer, no, you colonists have no culture you know that. )Up ahead some of the turtles decided they had teeth and tangled with a platoon of Amaris regulars.  Rage and bricks and bottles will only get you so far.  They’d knocked off four or five before the rest opened up on ’em.  Those RimJobbers though were none too bright either. They’d holed up in a parking garage just off Sixth Avenue.  The civs milled around nobody wanting to try their luck.  Across the avenue some more bright boys and girls were testing their rope skills on a couple of women.  Collaborators I guessed, fuck what a mess.  One of the women caught my eye.  Damn it.

   Over the TACNET, I called for Paul D’amato in his Firestarter.

   â€œPauly see the lynch mob over there?”

   â€œYeah, Eltee.”

   â€œStop them, send those girls to help our wounded, take Sam and Dido’s SAS squads with you.

   Sam’s Firestarter, looks at me for a second, shrugs and stalks off.

Osis looks at me puzzled.  Enough of us have died, I tell her. She nods not really understanding.

One of the partisan leaders gets huffy, but you don’t argue on foot with a 35 ton ‘Mech designed to kill infantry as quickly and efficiently as possible.  The girls trudge off under guard as we reach a crew that looks almost as hard as we do.  As Osis points out the leader I notice a gas truck in the intersection.

Good thing nobody hit it.

   â€œLieutenant Gilmour 90th HAR”

   â€œRod Singh, use t’be Sergeant Singh 1127th Royal Mechanized Infantry.”

Singh’s a big guy probably Sikh, there are almost as many of them in the Royals as Scots.  I point to the building asking if it’s clear. Like many such urban apartment complexes the parking garage serves both the residents and commercial uses.

   â€œAny body still live there?” The building above was missing three floors of facade and looked burned out but I’ve see worse.

   â€œNo some local resistance met there, damn fools tried to assassinate Colonel Markasian, the 22nd’s  c/o.  Singh explained, Same boys who’re holed up down there were the ones to burn out the resistance, literally."

   That tore it, pointing to the gas truck, I asked if he knew anyone who could drive it.

Bruce (Playing rough and rescuing princesses.)

   Say what??

I stood there in shock, listening to that fool Donner whine because I’d stolen away two (It turned out to be fifteen year old.) girls he was trying to hang because they didn’t say no when an Amaris captain grabbed the off the street at gun point for his troops “use”. Nicole had told me later and I’d had them picked up by the Medevac team that had just passed through.  Doc. Wynndham our Magistracy born CMO, would know what to do with them.

Alex just busted out laughing. Donner seeing this looked about to snap.  Before he could I did. Grabbing Donner by the back of his suit I dragged him to the garage, he’s a big man and he struggled but he’s still a Turtle.

I whispered softly in his ear “That look like aiding to you.”

I won’t describe the entrance to you but some of the RimJobs tried to get out.

They didn’t make it. I spun him around in the heat and choking stench and stuck my Colt in his nose.

   â€œThose girls had no choice in what they done you fuck, but you did, I spun him back around.

   â€œThat makes you no better than those dead assholes.”

I felt the panic in him build and tossed him away from me just as he puked all over himself.

Turning away form Donner, I noticed Alex’s eyes were huge, but both Nicole and Singh looked smug.  This guy must have been some piece of work. 

 â€œThey don’t know us in our own hometown ,I thought, But they will soon enough.”

Alex got his act together and took a call over the TACNET.  When he got off he looked at me with that tight smirk he gets when he had to do something he finds unpleasant.

“Trouble?”

“Yeah B, my dad’s lost his mind.”

“Come again?”

“First you’re now a Captain.”

“Yea me, this is bad why?”

“No, not that , I’m taking what’s left of 3 Batt and going to assist 2nd, the Huscarl’s are causing real problems, oh I’m a Major now.”

“I’ve always known you were a Major Ass..”

“This is serious B, you’re not going.”

“WHAT!” Okay twice today I’ve lost it.

“You’ve got no ride, and I’m going into a ‘Mech fight, but that Infantry badge you wear ain’t for show is it?”

I shook my head something was up now, I could smell it.

“The Old Man wants you to head over with an SAS team, no NightHawks, to a building a couple blocks away and liberate this chick.”
He passed me his pocketcomp and I looked over the mission stats after transferring it to my comp.

A fucking Davion, great, old broad this one, still a veteran  from a decent unit.  Hopefully knows to stay out of my hair, okay number two.

Sarah??? WTF.

I looked up stunned, Alex nodded, “The Colonel knew you knew her from the League posting on New Avalon your dad had.”

“RimJobbers got her holed up in the hotel there so go get her out, this is an Alpha priority mission, Captain."

“Gotcha Major RootBeer, Sir.”

“Get the hell out of here.” He turned to Rod Singh who’d just found himself reactivated and began doing Major type work.

I got.

Collecting Dido Moran and her band of shooters, and Nicole Osis and went as it turned out to a hotel a block away on 27th street.  I let Didi lead, despite what Alex had said my job was to put an officer on the scene. Besides Didi’s got Mad Skillz as they say.

We went in through a service entrance let in by the concierge and got too where the Rimmers were holding their captives. In a whispered voice the mousy little man told me Major Dupre, the Amaris officer who was in charge had changed rooms three times when he thought nobody was looking but the hotel staff had managed to keep tabs on them.

  I couldn’t help but respect him and his staff they’d risked their lives without knowing why.  Thanking him I got him to safety, and slipped back to where Didi wanted me.  We entered just like it said in the manual, popping two Rimmers just in the suite’s doorway a third guarding a woozy Gladys Davion, the old bird. I slipped through the bedroom door to see a tall blond guy standing over the prostrate form of a slender redhead, he was ripping away her dress when I came in tho’ I don’t know how he hadn’t heard something going on outside.  Her eyes were glazed and a bruise stood out on her right cheekbone.

“Sarah, what the hell did he do.”

   Sarah (Unexpected reunions)

Sarah felt like she was dreaming, after getting to the hotel, changing rooms three times and sitting around listening to the sounds of battle coming closer, Dupre had finally snapped, muttering something about finally owning a noble bitch, he’d beaten aunt Gladys and dragged Sarah into the suite’s bedroom, Some part of her mind noticed she was in the honeymoon suite and found this hysterically funny. 

Dupre didn’t share the joke because he backhanded her across the cheek. Her mind shut down as the Major ripped her dress off, but she still noticed a tall slender form glide silently into the room.  A snapping sound followed a flash of light that connected the man, she saw it was a man now, and Dupre.  Without even looking at the fallen Major, her rescuer knelt before her wrapping her torn dress around her.  After ten years Sarah Davion recognized just who it was who had rescued her.

A slightly crazed laugh tinged with relief escaped her, as she threw her arms around him.

“Bruce, you’ve lost your eye, I’ve lost Daddy and Aunt Gladys.”

She pulled away to arms length the wrinkling her nose.

“Why are you all dirty”

Her childhood friend looked at her and smiled.

“Lost my ‘Mech too, and had to fight my way to get to you so I got dirty.”

He turned to the door where a short rough faced woman with a nasty looking carbine in her hand nodded and smiled.

“As to your aunt, she’ll be fine, didn’t know about Uncle Paul tho’ I’m sorry”

He started to say more but, Sarah cried then, so he just held her close.

He did that for a long time.

The mind goes sometimes.

Isokoru: Duty is a mountain.

A BattleMech regiment on the move, the sight takes your breath away. The Black Tigers and Ryukaze were advancing on Chicago driving a full division of Amaris Dragoons ahead of them.  Isokoru Satoh watched from an overpass as a mixed regiment of Rim World troops tried to make a stand near a truck stop on the main highway. 

The alternating dark and light blues of the enemy machines would have been soothing, almost pretty if they weren’t mud and snow spattered, blackened from battle damage.  If they could catch their breath the Amaris troops could have overwhelmed the Tigers before the advancing Eridani Light Horse could arrive to support them.  The Black Tigers wouldn’t let them. 

As he watched, a salvo of Arrow IV missiles slammed into the core of the Amaris formation shattering ‘Mechs and tanks.  A battalion of Terran heavies in the new black and red paint job the 90th had adopted hit their front lines and Isokoru noticed Alex Winter’s Black Knight in the middle of the fray.  A column of enemy machines streamed from the rear approaching the Rim World command position.  The enemy commander must have sensed something amiss. 

His hundred ton Great White turned towards the approaching ‘Mechs which were painted black with red claw marks on the shoulders.  The lead Hecatoncheires a seventy to heavy opened fire then.  The class twenty autocannon in it’s left arm decapitated the enemy ‘Mech.

That’s the signal the ex Combine officer thought. Turning he raised his Dragon, “Kachiko’s” arm.

“Ryukaze ticket to the last stop, let’s close the circle!”

Accelerating to almost 90kph the Combine made heavy was joined by seventy other medium weight and fast heavies all painted in the deep blood red of the 1st Sword of Light.  Black claw slashes set these machines apart as did the Cameron star in the coiled dragon insignia.  To the northwest a new formation of dark blue machines was approaching.  The colors marked them as Amaris House Guards, the 2nd most likely as intel placed them in the area.  The new formation hesitated as they caught sight of the Kuritans.
 
“Ryukaze on me, open channels.”

As one the hardened samurai of the 1st Ryukaze Volunteer Regiment turned and over an open frequency screamed out “Banzai!”.
Isokoru could imagine the confusion in the teki’s mind. In the middle of fighting SLDF regulars to be set upon by Kurita troops.  By a Swords regiment.  Even the most skilled and disciplined enemy units would have reason to pause.
 
Lord Kurita would have a canary, Isokoru thought, whatever a canary is.

Fire began to lance out from the Guards troops but the swift Combine machines closed the distance and crashed into the Rim Worlders.  From an outsiders perspective it looks like chaos and madness.  There is a purpose and an order even here.  Shocked by the appearance of a nominal allies’ most fearsome troops right in their faces the Amaris commanders hesitated for a critical second. 

This allowed the Kuritans fight on their terms.  No soldiers any where are better at close combat in a BattleMech than Kurita regulars.  The blood red machines instinctively targeted points of cohesion, enemy commanders, and “heroes” rallying troops to counterattack.  Disciplined fire smashed any strong point before it could develop. 

It was however a costly way to fight.  A blue Hecatoncheires slipped out of a knot of Jenners, the few Isokoru had remaining.  It’s shotgun like autocannon bringing one down while its battle fist batted another aside.  Coming around its right flank Isokoru charged in striking the hulking enemy ‘Mech with his shoulder. “Katchi’s” lower center of gravity and bulked up shoulder myomers shoved the bigger machine to the side where laser and cannon fire from a Wolverine cut into its lower back touching off the Amaris machine’s ammo bin.

“Arigato Kurita-san”

“De nada, boss, a little hairy, huh?”

“A bit, Francine, a bit.” A sudden thought nagged at him. “Don’t get to far away from me, I don’t want to explain to the Coordinator how I got his cousin killed.”

“Just tell Minoru-sama I was working off stress, he’ll understand.” Her laugh was a little ragged.

Slicing at a nearby Shark with the 9cm pulse laser replacing Katchi’s 40mm autocannon, Isokoru nodded. He’d trained “Little Frankie” Kurita and knew that years of being a guest of Stephan Amaris had taken it’s toll on the younger woman.  Like that little Sarah girl, Francine Kurita was a distant family member posted to Terra to put a name in the diplomatic process.  The Combine had several such, giving rise to the old tired joke that there were more Kuritas on Terra than on Luthien.  Unlike Sarah Davion, with her diplomatic training, Francine was a warrior.  She needed to fight.  And she was right, her cousin would understand. 

A Great White loomed out of the dust then, spitting out waves of short range warheads at Kachiko.  Isokoru twisted in his linear frame sending the Dragon to the right avoiding the bulk of the missiles, but enough hit to rattle him around in his cockpit like a doll.  Yellow framework appeared all over his status displays as he returned fire. 

The Amaris assault ‘Mech could spit out thirty six 80mm free flight rockets at once and backed it up with a standard model particle cannon in each arm.  It had the heat sinks to use these weapons liberally which it proved by sending two whips of charged particles at Francine.  The two Kuritans split and began circling the bigger machine carving at its flanks but the pilot was superb twisting and feinting using his weight and threat of physical attack to fend off the lighter machines.  Two of his Jenners joined the fight circling behind the monster to add their own rockets and lasers to the mix.  A Rimmer Hecatoncheires chased them off a minute later and two Sharks began to flank the Kuritans.

“Uh Boss…”

“Don’t have a canary Frankie.”

Sending the last of his 60mm LRM’s to keep one of the Sharks honest turned to the Great White and prepared to charge, thinking;  Frankie could get clear, maybe, my honor is safe.  A wave of fire swept over the Rim Worlds assault machine. Too many twisting rocket contrails to count and at least four argent streaks from gauss fire. The massive assault ‘Mech twisted like a live thing as it came apart.  The Sharks turned to run but a black and red Marauder’s deliberate fire cored both machines before they could get up to speed.

500 meters away four battered Highlander assault ‘Mechs led a wall of steel that was sweeping around the wounded Combine unit.
Isokoru’s TACNET crackled to life then.

“’Ko, what’re you doin’ buddy hogging all the RimJob Guards?”

A relived laugh burst from him as his optics picked up the amazon carrying an assault rifle on the leg of Colonel Samuel Winter’s “Bertha”. Overhead his IFF showed fighters belonging to the Light Horse strafing and bombing the retreating Amaris troops.

“Hell Sam you know us damned Snakes, always hogging the glory.”

“Looks like DeChevalier’s plan worked.”

“The teki went gunning for the Tigers once they knew you were on the field.”

“When they didn’t run outright, plus their comms are jammed with questions about a Sword of Light regiment attacking them, know anything about that?”

“Not a clue, Sam.”

A sun bright flash of light interrupted them suddenly. And a deep rolling thunder swept over the battlefield.

“Orbital Fire?” Isokoru asked, surprised.

“Yeah, that should be the demise of the 224th Amaris Rifles", Isokoru recognized the voice of  3rd Battalions commander Justine Sinclair, "and at least part of the 103rd Dragoons.”

“The Tiger Claw caught a break in the fun upstairs and we were able to set up a shot.”Justine continued, “The remains of the Rim Worlds Navy are being turned into scrap as we speak.”

“So much for Stevie-boys escape plan", Francine quipped.

Over the broadband a triumphant voice sounded.

“To all SLDF units, The Greenhaven Gestapo and its support have been eliminated, the Italian peninsula is free, I repeat….”

“Well that’s good news", Justine chuckled dryly.

“Sooner they clear Europe", the sooner they get here. Samuel said.

“Just wish they’d move it, sir, unless they think we can break the Unity Line without ‘em.”

Isokoru knew what Sam was thinking even before he spoke the words.

“Be a hell of a thing if we could.”

Samuel: A while later

One thing never changes, Samuel Winter thought.  You just can’t get decent pizza outside of New York.  It’s not much, but you take what you can get.  Or not he mused, listening to his battalion commanders hash out the latest news from the high command.  The smell from two slices of said pizza kept distracting him from the conversation.

  As usual Majors Christian Traumintieri and Justine Sinclair were at odds.  The North American Front was holding where it was until the divisions in Asia and Africa caught up .  Under strict orders to hold what they had, but not to press. Chris of course, was arguing for an aggressive posture.  The big blond Italian had a working mans sensibilities and an iron will.  These qualities served him well leading his “Bloody Paws” the 90th’s assault battalion.  Chris tended to be direct and forceful, which worked well when one led a battalion of 100 ton Pillagers.  On the political battlefield however…

Justine Sinclair was almost a polar opposite.  The Argentine born commander of the “Hungry Tigers”, was slender and olive skinned with raven black hair and a model’s features.  Outside of the cockpit Justine, known as “Sin” by her troops was the public face of the unit with a keen political mind.  Inside her Marauder  “Wendigo” she was just as direct as Chris, leading her battalion with a wild abandon.  At the moment her famed cool looked about to crack.

“We should be in their faces, Chris was arguing, now more than ever.”

“The Cappies and the Snakes, no offense Isokoru, are just waiting to finish the job Amaris started, not to mention that moron, Kenyon.
The only one in the room not in SLDF olive drab, smiled sadly at Chris and shrugged.

“Shigata ga nai Chris I’m not a Drac anymore.”

Immaculate in his gray DCMS mechwarrior’s jumpsuit, Isokoru Satoh was the oldest man in the room.  Didn’t look it though, Samuel thought, Drac’s must seriously believe in clean living.  The Kurita officer’s long black hair and goatee were untouched by gray and his brown eyes normally danced with a wicked humor.  A humor that even the Coordinator’s son Jinjiro, had come to dread while Isokoru commanded the 1st Sun Zhang Academy Cadre.

 Motivated by honor a loyalist regiment of DCMS regulars, most of whom had served in the SLDF, had joined the Black Tigers shortly before the liberation began.  With over thirty years of experience and a natural leader Isokoru was the logical choice for commander.  Looking over his friend, Samuel knew they’d paid the price for their actions. Every Ryukaze soldier had been regulated to the class of eta  or unproductives, exiled.

Justine was going over the General staff’s, position for the umpteenth time.

“Look just do the math, the damn Unity Line’s too strong and after we whacked their fleet the RimJobbers know they’ve go nowhere to run.”  Under her smooth, lightly accented English Samuel heard a tension building.

“But if we go in now we could lose it all, Africa’s a mess and Kerensky’s still bogged down in a Russian winter….”

Wonder if she’s gonna take a swing at Chris, Samuel thought, be a hell of a fight.

“Sam?” Isokoru spoke up.

“Yeah, ‘Ko”

“You gonna eat those last slices, they’re getting cold”

“Split ‘em, good huh?”

“Yup, almost as good Dani’s back on Luthien…..”

“Wha…. Chris sputtered.

“Yeah, It’s on Shiro and Dieron.”

Alex looked scandalized, even Justine looked miffed.

The tension in the room disappeared, as the conversation turned nostalgic, Alex shared a look with Isokoru and turned back to his father.

“Sir you wanted to know when the Stalker’s were ready for action?”

“And?”

“We’re at 100% with the ‘Kaze survivors transferred in, and Captain Gilmour’s company back in town.”

“Bruce got back Wednesday didn’t he?”

“Yeah, running those last Rimmers to ground took a lot out of ‘em, so I’m requesting a weeks leave for the entire company."

Samuel nodded, with records destroyed and civilian police and intelligence services almost nonexistent many ex Rim Worlds soldiers in the liberated zones were simply disappearing into the population.  Since many of these troops had been stationed on Earth since the occupation began they were being uncomfortably successful.  The repercussions would last for decades. In the end though, the Amaris military was finished.

A call coming in from Major John Zazula of the 2005th  Royal Combat Support Group, Samuel nodded to bring the meeting to a close.  As Alex was leaving Samuel motioned for him to stay.  Closing of the link he turned to his son.

“You know the fight’s almost over when the engineers get more action than the mechwarriors.”

Nodding wearily, his son chuckled.

“Got plans tonight Al?”

“CJ and I are going out to dinner with Bruce and Sarah.”

“The Davion girl, that serious?”

“I think so, she was engaged, but it was political, some rumors got out she was, well, um…”

“Gotcha.”

“Anyway they’re running shows on Broadway again.”

“So soon?”

“It’s not quite business as usual, but I don’t think the city shut down even in the middle of the battle.”

“That photo in the Times with Justine holding a press conference in Starbucks, a latte in her hand proved that.”

“Humph, that moron Donner won’t shut up about it.” Samuel snorted.

“He still causing trouble?”

“Trying to be a big fish in a small pond, since DEPCOM didn’t get gutted the way other government agencies did they’ve been the ones with the infrastructure to get things done….Donner’s been using that.”

“Sick Bruce on him.”

For a second Samuel just stared at his son began to chuckle.

For the first time in over five years father and son shared a laugh.

“Might not be a bad idea.”

Bruce: A night on the town.

Who ever designs dress uniforms must be a sadist, I thought, pulling at my collar.  Not enough pockets, too tight around the chest, and what’s up with the hat?  Hell with it. I tossed the fur cap on the bed and looked at my self in the mirror catching sight of my graduation photo on the dresser. 

My family owns a small house just off the Fort Hamilton base.  I’d been surprised to find it untouched after ten years.  Closed up and wrapped as if for a move.  No sign of my father though.  Old man was probably was one of the first guys the Rimmers grabbed.  I picked up the photo.  Me, Al, Rachel Miller; dead in a battle dozens of light years away.  Dad was on New Avalon still, the old man stood behind us hands on mine and Al’s shoulders.  We were in full dress looking totally squared away but damn it we looked like children.  The Colonel looked so proud.  I shook my head with a snort.  Shit I still had both eyes then too.

A light touch on my arm shook me out of my musings.

Sarah stood at my side, eyes searching my face. I realized I must have been standing there for a while staring at the photo.  Then I caught a good look at her. 

Damn the hell she doin’ with me.

Now mind you Sarah’s gorgeous to begin with, lustrous red hair falling in waves to the middle of her back, warm hazel eyes a perky nose and full lips.  She was wearing a black gown in the style popular in the Magestry of Canopus, reminiscent of Hollywood stars in the 1940’s and 2450’s. The daigumo silk left her shoulders bare and showed of her creamy white skin.  She grinned impishly and stepped back to give a twirl.

“You’re drooling Bruce.”

I muttered something I don’t remember but it must have been the right thing cause she kissed me lightly.  Then she took my shoulders and gave me a once over.

“You're wearing your medals” It wasn’t a question.

“Umm well I look like a damn Lyran”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Yes dear.”

She shook her head.

“Sometimes you can be clueless Captain Gilmour.”

“Why?”

One finger came up.

“First this is a big event, the first Broadway premier after the occupation. The press will be all over this.”

Another finger rose.

“Second; film of you in the Battle of the Flatiron, hunting down stragglers and during the reconstruction efforts over the past couple of months are all over the news."

She paused and crooked her head in almost in disbelief.

“You don’t even know do you?”

“Been a bit busy hon.”

“You’re the ‘Hero of New York’.”

WTF, oh that.

“Sarah that story in the Post was all fluff.”

“The public believes it, that’s enough.”

“But..”

Sarah placed a finger on my lips silencing me. With her chin tilted up and eyebrows raised I knew what was coming next.

 â€œThird, I’m a Davion dear, think about it.”

“Aunt Gladys will call the 3rd Guards if  I don’t look good enough?”

All the airs went away and she giggled looking like the little girl from New Avalon who was the first girl I ever kissed, and who threw mud in my face a minute later.  Well we were ten at the time.

Needless to say I wore my full salad bar and my gunslingers medallion, I lost the damn cap at the theatre though. Strangest thing.

A static defensive line is always vulnerable.  Once penetrated in force at any point, every other post becomes moot.  Its men cannot bring their arms to bear and in fact can do nothing except wait in impotence to be overrun…..

Alexander, King of Macedon

Minerva Ramos hunched down in her Mongoose’s linear frame as if that could make the six meter tall scout ‘Mech even  smaller.  Below the low ridge she and the three Talon Strike ‘Mechs of her lance crouched behind waited a full battalion of the Rim Worlds Huscarl Dragoons crouched like a pack of misshapen hyenas.  They were prepping a strike on the rear of the 71st Light Horse Regiment.  ‘Nerva and her lancemates  had other plans.  The lightest machines in the 90th, The three Mongoose Recon Platforms and nine Talons of Puma Company, 2nd Battalion lived up to the unit’s moniker of “Swift Claws”. 

“Puma Two-Six to Sherman six we have forty repeat four-zero big fish getting set to run. Request fire mission grid three five by one eight.”

“Roger Puma two-six, Sherman six; fire mission grid three five by one eight, shot out correct as needed.”

Over the line of sight laser commline Rolly, the company’s First Sergeant spoke quietly.

“Got a Vamp-A here his Beagle just went active.”

“Won’t matter, Nerva growled, here it comes.”

The Amaris Huscarl regiments represent the finest formations in the Amaris military.  Well trained, with the finest equipment after ten years of access to  Terran technology.  Both totally loyal and utterly ruthless.  A full company spread out in a formation designed to maximize their sensor arrays.  Eighteen 210mm guided  anti armor rounds split over a kilometer above the Huscarls.  In each section of the round was guided by an AI with all the intelligence of a small rodent. 

The rodent brain was programmed to seek out specific BattleMech and armor profiles and ignore the IFF signals from friendly units.  While Puma company’s ‘Mechs were on idle their IFFs were shut down, but the Huscarls were, as a showcase unit, chock full of just what the little rodent minds were looking for.  The Amaris troops had only just detected the rounds splitting apart when at about a hundred meters the submunitions detonated. 

In side each round the rat brain committed suicide by igniting a shaped charge that turned an ingot of copper beyond molten.  The slug of copper plasma slammed straight down at the Huscarl ‘Mechs.  ‘Nerva’s eyes couldn’t process this of course, but the end result was enough.  Each round carried six of the lethal submunitions.  In a flash of red gold light the Amaris battalion disintegrated.  Out of forty hostiles only five Huscarl machines were standing after the barrage. 

“Okay people finish up, ‘Nerva’s c/o Captain Kevin St.Paul ordered. 

Let’s open the hole.”

The Amaris machines were one leg in the grave as the Talons went to work.

As the last machine, a Great White, went down six Ripper VTOL transports flashed by at treetop level.  ‘Nerva knew they carried a detachment of the “Stealthy Tigers” the 90th’s SAS detachment.  The what and why of their mission was a mystery.

Dido (Behind the lines.)

Fort Bollenger was one of the earliest of the Castle Brians built.  Designed to be a key anchor in the line of ground and aerospace defenses protecting Unity City.  Nearly impregnable it housed a full brigade of troops.  Almost entirely underground, the batteries of antiship lasers and missiles would make orbital support costly at best.  Hidden sally points provided defenders with access to vast portions of the surrounding area.  To secure the surrounding area  you had to take the fort in its entirety.  Under the SLDF this would have been next to impossible. 

Under Amaris rule a glaring flaw came to light.  Plans smuggled out by partisans employed by the Rim Worlds troops revealed a major change in the way the facility’s command and control was handled.  Instead of a decentralized cellular structure in which each fortress section could survive independent of the whole, command was centralized in one location.  The annihilation of the 3rd Battalion, Amaris Huscarl Dragoons a week before had set up the insertion of six of the Stealthy Tiger teams.  Forty two troopers, even the elite of the SAS teams may seem futile in the face of over five thousand Amaris regulars. If all went well the Tigers would do in hours what took the Rim Worlds troops two years to do.

Dido Moran led her team down the dark hole of an electrical service tunnel.  Running from the edge of the town that had grown up around the fort and shared its name.  The access point to the tunnel was sealed behind concrete forty feet thick.  Ten years of neglect and a series of severe torrential downpours in the past three years had collapsed a section of tunnel and the RimJobs hadn’t fixed it.

 Corporal Lindon had bypassed the sensors set up around the breach and the chameleon technology in the Tiger’s uniforms did the rest.
So they can’t see us Didi thought, but they sure as hell could smell us.  After a week dodging patrols and hiding out in abandoned buildings and the basements of resistance fighters, showers had not been a priority. Just hope that sweet little blonde from the 71st doesn’t show up with our relief. After all a girl’s gotta’ look her best.  

Making sure the unit was in the clear, Didi raised her visor.  Wiping off her face she winced as her bandana rubbed against the bruise Sarah had left under her right eye.  When Bruce had asked her to give his pet Davion some pointers in self defense, Didi hadn’t figured Sarah would pick up the Escrima style the SAS troops used so quickly.  Leaning back against the wall she smiled at the memory.  Okay so “pet” wasn’t the right word, we did pretty much adopt her. 

Tommy Lindon knelt at an access terminal plugging in his pocketcomp.  Didi knew he was setting up a remote backdoor to the command center’s security and surveillance system.  Giving the thumbs up Tommy signaled he was done.  Lowering her visor, Didi marked the new icons representing Amaris troops in the hallways just on the other side of the wall. A maintenance hatch rigged with remote sensors was all that guarded the fort. 

Her team spread out into position, as the corridor cleared.  Tommy typed a command into his wrist computer.  The access panel slid aside and the SAS teams slid inside.  Each team spread out.  On her visors HUD Didi saw the icons of several Amaris troops wink out.  The silenced SMG’s of the SAS teams began their work.  Didi’s team headed for their goal, the central command center.  Signaling the team to set up at the corner just south of the center, Didi flipped the switch to set her Colt half rifle to constant beam.  Before she could give the command  an alarm began to sound.

Crap, she thought, there goes the neighborhood.  Rounding the corner her gun came to life.  Sweeping the Colt in an arc, its beam scythed through both door guards.  The door hissed open and Michael Kelso’s HK MP2 burped in response.  A Rimmer officer fell back gurgling.  The grizzled sergeant spat fire into the squad behind the stricken woman.  Fernando Beria tossed a flash bang into the command center.  Didi slipped in covering the right as Kelso took the left. 

A couple of quick bursts and it was over.  Joanne Kimmel and Fernando took positions by the door while August Martine patched up a burn on Kelso’s shoulder.  Tommy was already at the console pulling aside a dead technicians body.  Plugging in to the base’s central computer, he ran a modified diagnostic script to bypass the Amaris technicians changes.  The distinctive chatter of an Amaris RAsa-77 assault rifles sounded through the door. 

“Boss, Huscarl infantry, ahh fuck..”

A burst of fire caused Joanne to duck back, and Didi leaned out and snapped a shot.  The Huscarl infantry wore ceramic plate armor treated with chemical camouflage that blended in with their surroundings.  Though not as effective as the SLDF troopers gear the Huscarls looked like gray wraiths in the corridor.  The ceramic on the troopers armor ablated under the Colt’s intense beam.  The vaporized armor caused enough force to bring the man up short.  As he  raised his bullpup rifle Didi pumped two more shots into the Huscarls faceplate.  Dropping his rifle, the Huscarl was dead even as his hands clawed at the 2cm hole in his helmet.  A 9mm round whined off the doorjamb and took Didi in then side. Knocking her back from the doorway as the antiballistic mesh in the SAS troopers uniform spread out the heavy slug’s impact. 

Kelso clicked the tube under his carbine and the grenade launcher loaded a 20mm grenade.

“Hammer round up.”

Joanne and Fernando sent a wave of fire down the hallway as Kelso swung out and pumped a high explosive armor piercing grenade down at the Huscarl squad.  Much too expensive for regular use, the Hammer HEAP grenade was a smart round designed to defeat heavy personal armor like the SAS Nighthawk powersuits.  At a preset moment the advanced plastic explosive detonated sending nails of hardened  aligned steel that could shatter even the tough ceramic of the Huscarl body armor.  As the Huscarls reeled back, Tommy called from the terminal.

“Didi we’re set.”

Didi slammed the hatch shut, her TACCOM alive with calls from the other teams.

“Time to finish this shit, do it Tommy.”