Tales from Mirrorsmoke 1: The Charger

==Description==
This short story entry is a event in the Mirrorsmoke Mercenary Company's main story in the future. Where the company is inserted where they have stolen some Kuritan Mechs
==Story==
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3034
She was better than nothing. With the Neurojack in place instead of the usual subjectivity systems that they were used to in the Everest, there was a slight learning curve to an Inner Sphere BattleMech, one they were wholly trained for at the very least. Gone was the faster reaction time powered by their Coldcores, or the Hyperspec Fuel Injectors that gave their Everests its edge in combat.
 
In fact, Katana-5 was sure he would be at a disadvantage. There was a noticeable input lag in her movement due to the Neurojack. While the device allowed them to bypass the security systems of a regular neurohelmet, and instead used their hardsuit's neural bridge, it came at a steep price of imperfect response times due to incompatible technologies. Not only that, but the machine seemed to have a faulty torso actuator as well, preferring to veer her torso just a tiny bit to the left as he bade her to move.
 
"This is Kungsarmé Command to all Mirrorsmoke assets in the AO," their liaison announced over the comms, "Our units have engaged the Kuritans. I say again, we are engaging the Kuritans. You don't have much time."
 
There were dozens of responses from his fellow siblings, but he had tuned them all out, too busy flicking switches and buttons in an attempt to get to know his partner for the evening. No one from the enemy would mind if Katana-5 would have this dance with her, it seemed.
 
She was an old girl, judging from the many wears and tears in her cockpit, the buffed and rebuffed scars of laser scorches and ballistic impacts on her viewplates. He'd found that some of her tertiary systems had been stripped out, and most of her armaments, however little there were, hadn't been bothered to replace. She was practically naked, used only for spare parts. Katana-5 was lucky she still had armor to begin with. Hell, even the jump jets were still functional.
 
He could work with this.
 
<<"Fireteam Katana is on schedule, Command,">> he at least heard his team leader respond, <<"We've got their 'Mechs. Ready to raise hell.">>
 
Within moments, he had made the finishing touches, recalibrating the nav-panel to show new IFF tags and objective marks.
 
"Then you all have the green light, Mirrorsmoke."
 
Showtime, old girl.
 
He pushed her throttle stick, ramming the stable door open without resistance. She was faster than he'd thought possible for her weight class, but the input lag was still a bitch to get used to. Immediately his scanners picked up a platoon of mechanized infantry, and moved her forward.
 
As soon as he got within sight, he turned her jump jets on, just barely making the mark as he crushed a vehicle with her full weight. He could hear the screams of the enemy Dracs as they were pulverized, stepping onto each vehicle with ease.
 
Oh shit! Oh shi–AARGH
 
((Blue! Blue!))
 
((Any station! Any station! The MechWarriors have turned against us! We need immediate—HELP US))
 
Hearing the intercepted panic and distress of the Kuritans was music to Katana-5's ears, and never, ever got old. His siblings had taken them all by complete surprise, the entire half of the enemy base in chaos. Not knowing who was your enemy or your ally would do that.
Katana-5 found himself in the fray. Within the element of chaos was an opportunity, one he found to be very generous as he fought in the free-fire zone. He had been the only one to pilot the old Charger, and no armored vehicle or tank could contest the speed and size of this Assault 'Mech without being brutally bent into a scrap heap.
 
Those that he couldn't reach in time, were annihilated by the rest of his siblings, driving their own warhorses. These weren't the grunt army of light 'Mechs that the Kuritans were forced to use, denied as they were of the knowledge contained from the Helm Memory Core. No, these were their last remaining heavy 'Mechs on the planet that should have been piloted by their more senior Samurais.
Numbered among them were ancient and venerable designs, from the classic Marauders and Dragons, to even an Ostroc, piloted by his team leader.
All of them now on the side of the Republic.
 
Within a few minutes, any and all resistance in the base were turned into debris and swiss cheese as their powerful machines made short work of all the remaining BattleMechs they couldn't steal.
 
But their job was far from over.
 
<<"This is Löjtnant Astrid of the 1st Kavelleri to any friendly MechWarriors in the area!">> suddenly buzzed on their open channel. <<"Our scanners are picking up two lances of heavies blitzing their way to grid 2-04. My lance cannot hold! I say again, my lance cannot hold this position! We have civilians in the area! Request immediate assistance!">>
 
Grid 2-04 was the nearby civilian settlement, near three klicks away, and should have been far away from the real fighting. But it didn't surprise Katana-5 that the Kuritans wouldn't care two shits about that information. A lance from 1st Kavelleri might have been placed there to ensure the safety of the populace, but that only had made them isolated and easy targets.
 
"We picking this up, Katana-leader?" he asked over the team comms. "We're the closest."
 
There was a pause. "Negative, Five," Katana-1 decided, "We'd leave this area wide open to the Dracs, and even then, with what 'Mechs?"
 
"A Charger, Dragon, and Ostroc could make that distance…" he responded easily.
 
"Hang on, don't fucking pull me into this!" chimed Katana-3, "You want to go for a suicide run, go for it, but we ain't in our 'Mechs. We're not insane glory hounds like Batch-1, man!"
 
The rest of his fireteam laughed. He didn't join them.
 
"Kungsarmé has been good to us so far, why not return the favor?"
 
He heard a deep sigh. "...Alright, you got me," his team leader declared. "Two and Four will head closer to back up Fireteam Gladius. But you realize you'd have to take point then, right? You're the one in the assault 'Mech, Five, we're going to be outnumbered. You fine with that?"
 
But not outgunned or outskilled.
 
The lag had diminished by now, and Katana-5 wasn't sure if it was due to him becoming used to it, or from the old girl herself, as if the machine relished the chance to be able to fight once again. He found that she was an eager dance partner at the least, slow and deliberate in her movements, but no less lively in the dance.
 
Katana-5 made his decision.
 
"I can work with this."
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Löjtnant Astrid Mariasdottir was doomed. Her lance was doomed. Her calls for help had been in vain, with the rest of her unit stretched to the brink fighting the last remaining Kuritan forces on their planet. It was solely up to her and her lance to protect this settlement.
 
She might not live to see the newly formed Republic liberate her home planet, but she would be damned if she'd ever let a single one of her people join her in death.
 
Her lance had engaged the Kuritan scum with fast hit and run strikes in an attempt to peel them off the settlement. Risky, but it had proved to be effective, when they had successfully distracted both lances, isolating and eliminating them one by one. They had managed to down two of the snakes, before a command Battlemaster had placed itself on top of a ridge, peppering her out-of-cover lance with prodigious amounts of long range PPC and LRM fire.
 
She had lost Jinsen to a lucky cockpit shot that way.
 
Her Kintaro stilted, a worrying whirr in its leg actuator had been growing louder and louder with every joust she had made, trying to trade missile fire after missile fire from that damn assault 'Mech. Speed had been her greatest tool and if she slowed even for a short moment to cool down, would mark her as a dead woman when the rest of the snakes caught up to them.
 
She knew one more shot anywhere to her BattleMech would likely take her down for good.
 
The rest of her lance did their best, nowhere near as fast as her, but they survived by making erratic movements. When they weren't being shot at, they provided lifesaving counterfire and support that kept the BattleMechs chasing them from getting too close.
 
They had managed to down two Grasshoppers that way, before they found themselves close to the ridgeline. The Battlemaster was nowhere in sight, perhaps hiding under cover in an effort to cool itself down.
 
But she herself was no better, panting heavily inside her sauna of a cockpit. She wished she could do the same. There was buzzing in her ears, words spoken that somehow flew right out the other end of her head. She couldn't understand them. She was beginning to have a heatstroke she realized, when the friendly blips on her nav panel began to double in number in one moment. Two of those blips then pulled away, as if intercepting the enemy on their tail.
 
Unfortunately, this one momentary distraction was all the Kuritan bastard needed, when he once again got out of cover, and aimed the PPC right down at her.
 
The world slowed to a halt, and she allowed herself the peace that came with death, knowing her lancemates would avenge her. This was it.
 
The beam of light nearly blinded her as it streaked just above her cockpit, hitting something huge as it landed right in front of her. Whether it was out of her delirium or from the force of the impact, her vision became blurry, and it took every ounce of her will not to succumb to the fatigue that had gripped her until now.
 
She stood there for a moment, letting pearls of sweat rain down her forehead as if she was in a trance.
 
Then the world resumed, her vision clear.
 
The blob of shapes in front of her turned into a Charger, painted in the same colors of House Kurita, but barreling up towards the hill with wild abandon, ignoring her. Like a feral animal loose, it met the Battlemaster with a crash, colliding against it using a shoulder tackle that displaced a dome of air from the sheer force of the impact, nearly sending the enemy assault 'Mech tumbling to the ground.
 
The Battlemaster took a step back, aiming its PPC at her savior, but instead of dodging the discharge, the Charger merely swatted the arm away with a downwards smash using its arm laser as a crude club, destroying the PPC and bending the arm by the elbow.
 
Astrid could only stand by and watch in equal parts horror and awe as the fight unfolded into an ugly back alley brawl.
 
The Battlemaster responded to the blow by unloading all of its medium lasers point blank at the club arm, destroying a vital load-bearing joint in its shoulder in the process. The Charger struck back, punching the enemy cockpit with its other fist, sending the Kuritan down on one knee. It had been about to punch a second time, but the enemy had managed to stop the fist from gaining momentum by grabbing the Charger's arm by the elbow, locking them together.
 
The Charger bent backwards, and for a moment Astrid had thought it was trying to overpower the Battlemaster before it could once again shoot its medium lasers.
 
No, the MechWarrior just needed momentum.
Another violent bubble of air burst out from around the both of them, as the insane bastard piloting the Charger had just rammed his cockpit into the Battlemaster's, finally sending it tumbling down to the ground.
 
For good measure, the MechWarrior had even stomped on the Kuritan's head twice, before deciding to even acknowledge her presence.
 
//"Sorry about that,"\\ the MechWarrior said over his loudspeakers. He sounded young. //"We heard you could use some assistance in this grid."\\
 
"Uh," she dumbly started, looking around at the carnage the young man and his lance had just wrought. Even her lancemates were rendered speechless. "I think you already took care of that. Thanks for the save."
 
//"No need. We got a long bad day ahead of us. Let's keep it from getting any worse, yeah?"\\
 
She couldn't help it, she laughed. "If that's your attitude about this whole thing, then I'll owe your lance a drink after this!"
 
//"Heh. I'd say I take milk, but if we're actually all clear here, then my team and I've got other objectives."\\
 
"Wait, you're still going to fight?!" Astrid asked out loud, horrified. "In your condition?!"
 
The young man said nothing at first, his Charger actually tilting downwards if in deep thought. Then the 'Mech turned towards her again, finally deciding on an answer.
 
//"I can work with this."\\
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Category:Short Stories
Category:Works by Laine