SmoMir Chpt 8

==Mirrorsmoke Company - Chapter 8 -==
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Outskirts of Lindorm Spaceport
New Oslo, Draconis Combine
September, 3018Local Time: 20:12 
Tony Pavo dreamed of good things. That was until an explosion rocked him out of his sleep, nearly tearing himself out of his harness from getting startled. Then the screaming klaxons followed. He gasped, readjusting his neurohelmet properly as he hurriedly flicked a few switches, rousing the fusion engine of his Jenner awake. 
 
<{Reactor: Online}>
<{Sensors: Online}>
<{Weapons: Online}>
 
<{ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL}>
 
"Chet, what the fuck just happened?!" he shouted over the radio. A minor accident, it had to be. Maybe an improperly handled fuel reserve had exploded. He pushed on his pedals, bidding his BattleMech to move as it strode over an empty lot reserved for Kurita ships. He had been complacent, sleeping on the job, but that had been a given, with how boring it was being stationed in this side of the Inner Sphere. 
 
"We're under attack, idiot!" came the reply, but the venomous voice had come from his lance leader. "Get in formation!"
 
He cursed. Glancing at his navigation panel, he saw the two blinking arrows of his lancemates that were already half-a-klick away from his position. He pushed his throttle stick forward, sprinting at top speeds while deftfully dodging around the now awake civilian cruisers and dropships. 
 
He could see the panicking aerodyne ship pilots nearly crashing among themselves as they cut each other off, desperately trying to take off on the many runways of the spaceport. Those who were fortunate enough to have a VTOL capable ship had already done so, scattering to different parts of the world or even far away from the planet itself. 
 
Within moments, the spaceport had lit up nearly as bright as an afternoon sun from his position, the combined thrusters of all ships swirling around the night sky shone like meteor showers. 
 
Or racks of malfunctioning LRMs shooting up from a dying BattleMech.
 
Tony had been impressed, if even slightly. A former ASF pilot himself, it was a wonder how no one had actually crashed from the panic. A testament to their training, he supposed.
 
By the time he'd actually caught up to his Lance, Lindorm Spaceport had been practically emptied of all non-combatants, save for those unlucky bastards left behind by their crew or transport. Or lucky, he believed. They get to watch the fireworks.
 
"What are we dealing with, guys?" he asked, speaking over the loudspeakers of his Jenner.
 
"Unknown, Tony," Chet said, his lancemate and fellow Jenner pilot. "al-Jilani's been hailing Station, but they've been non-responsive."
 
There was confusion in his voice. "Shouldn't we go to them, you know, our one fucking ticket out of here?!" 
 
Not to mention securing the valuable cargo they had amassed from this whole venture.
 
"Negative, they can handle themselves!" Jeni al-Jilani, their lance leader, interjected. "Keep your missiles hot! Tower Control just radioed us that Drac reinforcements are on the way, but we gotta buy them time to get here."
 
"What's gotten in through the perimeter?" Chet asked, "I thought there was a horde of hovertanks patrolling in and out of the spaceport."
 
"The guards at the wall are reporting a lone Centurion trying to breach through," al-Jilani said, then she scoffed. "At least, that's what Tower Control told me."
 
"These fucking snakes," Tony sneered. "Leave it to them to fuck up this badly."
 
"Stow the bellyaching, damnit," she interrupted, "Move out, both of you! We can hassle the Kuritans for that Centurion as salvage!"
 
They began to move, headlights at the front. With a quick radio, Jeni had made a platoon or two of Saracens to come with them. Tony and Chet matched each other's pace, shaping a trident formation with al-Jilani in the back line. Even with the Panther running at top speed, both their Jenners and the hovertanks were forced to slow down to preserve their line. 
 
A lone Centurion? Easy prey even with just their incomplete lance. Twelve to one were good odds, but numbers alone weren't the only thing they had to their advantage. 
 
Tony and Chet often called themselves the Fists in their crew, much to the dismay of their lance leader. Chet was the Leftie; his Jenner was refitted with an Inferno-missile equipped SRM-6. It might have cost him two out of four of his Medium Lasers, but the extra armor that came with the refit just made him bolder. He'd need that courage. Willingly strapping Infernos to his back made Tony shudder. He'd seen the damn things in action first hand. Not a good way to go.
 
He, the other hand, the Rightie, completely forgoed the use of lasers, and instead sported two SRM-4s behind his cockpit. Along with the extra ammo and heat sink, that kept the carnage running for longer.
Together they made for a particularly nasty duo of destruction. That Centurion, most likely old and in disrepair, and most likely piloted by someone looking to meet his death by mercenaries, would stand no chance, so much so that it bordered on overkill.
 
Tony wholeheartedly believed as such, before he and his lance finally got to the wall. 
 
Another explosion rocked the peninsula, this time more violent than the last. A massive gust of wind buffeted their cockpits from the blast, before the sounds of rumbling metal and ferrocrete finally came tumbling down. The earth shook wildly and Tony grunted, having to fight with his control sticks as he planted his feet firmly down on the pedals in an effort to stabilize himself. Chet and Jeni resorted to activating their jump jets, having the good sense to time their jump just as the walls met the ground. 
 
Tony could hear the screams and panic of the surviving guards running down the long sloped road, hoping against hope to find some cover or refuge from the attack. Something came rolling down behind them in the dark, and for a moment Tony thought a piece of a fuel truck had just been thrown down to the slope. His training kicked in, targeting systems beeping a tinny tone, but just before he was about to press his finger on the trigger, he was beaten to the punch by Chet, who fired a dual spear of laserfire right at what was rolling down. 
 
Instead of an erupting flame bursting out of the tank, instead spilled out slick–like silvery oil that bubbled as it splattered everywhere down the slope of the ground. It was reacting to the air, Tony immediately realized, as it began to hiss so loudly that he could hear it on his audio feed. Within moments, the oily substance dissipated, turning into smoke so dense and so heavy he could hardly see what was in front of him as it engulfed them even with the headlights on.
 
Had he been outside the confines of his BattleMech, he would have been completely blind.
 
Tony flicked a switch, activating the thermal imaging system in his viewscreens, only to find–to his surprise–that it had been just regular smoke. Even the chemical sniffers of his 'Mech found no trace of hazardous materials in the air.
 
Before he could dwell on that, al-Jilani shouted. "Lance, we need to get up there and overwhelm that 'Mech! Hovertanks, secure your people behind a defensive line!"
 
Both Jenner pilots complied, punching their throttle sticks to full speed as they moved up the slope neck and neck. Tony and Chet had known each other for two years, and that brief time fighting together had not only honed their skills as MechWarriors, but also in piloting their Jenners. The both of them activated their jump jets, alternating between running and jumping in a way that gathered dangerous speeds. One mistake in a step would have had the both of them dead as they toppled to the ground. 
 
After all, it wasn't the fall that killed you. It was the sudden and violent stop that flattened you like a pancake inside your cockpit.
 
With a final burst from their jump jets, they popped out of the smoke field, and into a wide open clearing. Immediately, they saw movement in the dark, vehicles undetected by their thermal imaging, ready to shoot at them like a firing line. Mid-air, they kicked their pedals hard, a split second decision veering their legs to a sharp turn as they split off from each other.
 
"Watch out! This Centurion isn't alone!" Tony shouted. He pulled at his control sticks, struggling to control the momentum on his legs, all the while dodging three pairs of what looked to be Small Lasers trying to scorch his 'Mech. He grunted, a vicious smile on his face as the twin mounted lasers aimed his way stopped firing. He aimed his warhorse of a Jenner towards the enemy vehicles, APCs from their silhouettes, and jumped once more. 
 
Like a bird of prey, he landed on one of the vehicles, crushing the driver compartment with a satisfying whine of its armoring warping from the Jenner's weight. He turned to his side, and his targeting computer, astonishingly, didn't lock on even as he was point blank in front of the enemy. Before the vehicle could retaliate, he turned a targeting module off, dumb-firing a single volley from one of his SRM-4s at it, completely annihilating the front half of the vehicle with a searing boom that illuminated the clearing for a split second. 
 
Chet had done much the same, shearing the enemy APCs in half with each of his Medium Lasers with the precision of a doctor, before finishing off a third one with a volley of his Inferno rockets, igniting the mossy looking shroud blanketing the vehicle. The both of them watched as the burning gel did its thing, practically melting the armoring with such coruscating heat that it hurt to even look at it in the dark.
 
The both of them relished in the literal afterglow of destruction, watching the dissipating heat levels of his cockpit, before aiming their lights and weapons straight at the sea of trees ahead, the shadows deep from the flames and carnage around them.
 
"Coast is clear, Jeni," Chet slowly said, "No sign of that Centurion, though."
 
"Those APCs have some weird stealth tech." Tony noted. The coverings. It had to be. No doubt in his mind that that Centurion had been equipped with one as well. "Couldn't see them on my scanners, and my targeting systems wouldn't lock on to them."
 
Chet scoffed. "We sure as hell can eye-ball them just fine, though." 
 
"Jesus, you boys really did a number this time," al-Jilani replied, "You could have saved some for me, dam–"
 
A cone of displaced air pressure shot out from among the tree canopies, lingering in Tony's mind like an eye flash before he could even register the booming sound that had accompanied it. There was a trail, he realized, something had just whizzed past between both him and Chet.
 
The both of them followed that trail, leading all the way behind them.
 
Tony's blood ran cold. "No…"
 
The smoke had been parted, like a river parting in half. In the middle of it all was Jeni al-Jilani's Panther standing upright, mid-stride and battle ready. She had been aiming her stock model Lord's Light PPC, all primed and eager to shoot. The missiles of her SRM-4 jutted out of the launching tubes in her central torso like they were ready to burst forth.
 
The head of her Panther had been pierced. As if a metal rod had just cleanly speared through the cockpit, deforming the area where al-Jilani would have had to sit, before leaving a violent hole out from the back.
 
She didn't just die standing. She died before her brain could even register the sensation. They would have to gather her liquified remains with a bucket.
 
"Fuuck!" Chet screamed. His 'Mech began to flail wildly, firing lances of laserfire and Inferno missiles towards the trees.
 
He stormed into the dark forest and Tony could only curse, following his friend.
 
"Chet, we are not splitting up, you hear me?!" he shouted over the comms, "That's what they want us to do! We'll fight, but we do it smart."
 
"Fuck all that!" Chet said, "We can't just let a goddamn Centurion get the drop on us!"
 
"Think! Do you think someone would strap a damn lostech on a single Centurion? There's more of them out here, hiding!"
 
They had been tricked. APCs he couldn't recognise, 'Mech scale stealth equipment he'd never seen before; a goddamn Gauss Rifle, it had to be! Somebody had just found a lostech cache here in the Iron North, and now their lance paid the price for it.
 
"Play it smart," Tony repeated. "Stay close. Don't let them surround you or isolate you. We still have a job to do."
 
Mentally, he cursed. He should have radioed the Saracens to come with them. 
 
The both of them slowed down to a stop, but no less alert. Tony began to scan his surroundings, and Chet spun his Jenner around like a turret, covering each other's backs.
 
"We can't just leave Jeni's–" Chet started.
 
Tony's voice rose. "We'll avenge her, damnit! But we can't do it directly!"
 
A rustle in the canopies above had him pulling his control sticks around, nearly tearing them out from the force. He couldn't scan the enemy, that much he was certain, but he could see them just fine. He swiveled his headlights above. He would have had to rely on dumb-firing his SRMs to even stand a chance. 
 
A few seconds came, feeling like eternity, before Tony's gaze wandered into the navigation panel, detecting pulsing arrays of lights gathering around the two green arrows of that screen, his and Chet's Jenners.
 
"Move!" he shouted, punching his throttle stick to full speed. Dread welled up from his spine then and there, clawing at his lungs with a vice grip as he rapidly huffed air. His seismometer might have just saved their lives.
 
There had been five lights following them this entire time.
 
"Watch your seismics, Chet!" he said, teeth chattering. "Don't let them surprise you. We can detect them when they move."
 
To both his surprise and horror, they had moved too far from the spaceport. They ran at a risky pace, the speed most certainly ending with either of them getting lodged inside a tree trunk. A part of him knew he was still too slow. 
 
Every now and again, he would linger on to the panel, enemy movement pulsing as rapidly as his heart did. With a large and final puff of air, he calmed himself, eyeing a lone pulse trying to move away just ahead of Chet. 
 
Now was the chance for payback.
 
"On your eleven, Chet!" Tony warned, "Light up one of these bastards!"
 
"On it!" Chet shouted back, turning a sharp corner. Within moments the dark forest became illuminated by the Inferno gel, scorching one of the trees with a generous helping of hellfire. "Oh shit!"
 
Tony followed the turn, briefly activating his jump jets to hop over a large hump in the ground. With his headlights on, and with the help of the burning Red Iron, what he saw finally vindicated him.
 
A smattering of burning gel had ignited the cloth the 'Mech had been wearing, tearing it from its chassis in an effort not to get engulfed in the erupting flames. What was underneath it had been no Centurion. He would know, he'd fought a dozen Fedrats too many to ever forget such a storied 'Mech.
 
He fired his missiles at it.
 
Too slow. The volley struck its trick shield, and Tony quickly swerved behind a tree before the enemy could counterfire. Chet had been more aggressive, spearing it with twin laserfire before once again launching his Inferno missiles. His alpha strike was blocked again, doing little more than pissing it off, exchanging fire by using a 'Mech scale shotgun it had been carrying before retreating.
 
It carried the weapon, not mounting it, carried it like an infantryman would as it ran.
 
"Let's go, Tony!" Chet said, "Let's kill this bastard before his lance shows up!"
 
"Just watch your heat, man."
 
"I can take it!"
 
They didn't let up, the both of them giving chase. Without the cloth draped around it, Tony could now see the false Centurion on his scanners, only for it to give him more questions than answers. 
 
His Battle Computer did not recognize the enemy they were up against.
 
It was short, and far more lithe than what a Centurion should ever be. The Y-shaped visor over the cockpit had been replaced by eyes dotting on one side of its face, their apertures opening and closing like an arachnid's gaze. On its back were numerous small satellite dishes, a rotary missile launcher, and what he could only describe as a vertical rack lined with large cylinders.
 
Whatever those weapons were, he would come to find out sooner or later
 
Catching up to it had been easy, their Jenners far outpacing the enemy mech. But it moved too fluidly. Too human. Tony idly wondered if this was how the ancient Star League 'Mechs moved back in the golden age.
 
His targeting system beeped eagerly, interrupting his musings. He let loose his missiles once more, the volleys snaking their way to hit its back. 
 
The 'Mech strode in one direction, and the next moment veered off the other way at the last possible second, dodging away completely. The pilot inside that 'Mech was good.
 
But Chet was better. He swooped in, a twin lance of precise laserfire gouging at its shoulder and scorching the armor plating, but before his lasers could fully dig into the structure, its trick shield had covered over the attack one last time, finally turning it into molten slag.
 
The unknown BattleMech then tried to counterfire, shooting pellets of cluster munitions at Chet, who responded by firing off a line of Inferno missiles at it, striking true at its legs. The 'Mech began to limp, one of its legs glowing from the burning heat.
 
"Fuck you!" Chet shouted.
 
The 'Mech quickly threw something in the air–one of its cylinders–that unfurled with a flash of light and hissing smoke, transforming into a swarm of small quadcopter drones, which flew straight towards Chet.
 
Tony moved to intercept the drones, but soon realized that his missiles would be overkill against such small targets, doubtful that the drones could even do something to the Jenner's armor. He turned his attention to the enemy instead, and had tried to lock onto it once more, only to be interrupted by a gauss shot from his three o'clock that had left him reeling, hands trembling from death's touch.
 
His radio antenna had just been shot clean off.
 
But he was not deterred, fighting through his instincts to run away. That sniper couldn't make the killing shot twice.
 
"I got you, you bastard!" Tony shouted. One of the vital load bearing joints had failed on the false Centurion's leg, and the pilot had resorted to straightening the leg so that he could stilt himself along as he retreated. All it took was one final volley. For Jeni. 
 
He had been about to press the button, but something came barreling to his side, and before he could even react a deafening blow had sent him to the ground with a violent crash. He screamed midway, before the impact had forcefully shut his mouth, his jaw clamping off a bit of his tongue in the process. Had he been more lucid, he would have realized that his neurohelmet had just saved him from a messy end that was his gray matter spilling out of his skull.
 
All that came out of his mouth however, was an incomprehensible gibberish of blood and split tongue.
 
Then something kicked his cockpit, pointing his body towards the dark night sky, its canvas of stars shrouded by smoke and the flashing lights of laser fire in the vicinity. 
 
"No, I got you," a cold voice had said. Out from the darkness was another 'Mech, equally as shrouded as the others. The MechWarrior that had loomed over him like an executioner sounded young. Too young. 
 
A flashing light shone at her side, allowing him to finally see what he'd been up against, and behind the cloak, behind the darkness, and just like before, truly was no Centurion. Blue, raging lightning spilled out of her sword, and what sounded like a swarm of chirping birds overwhelmed his audio feeds. A melee BattleMech had done him in.
 
With a leg, she pressed his cockpit downwards, allowing him to see the ground. Just a couple of meters ahead of him was Chet, spiraling out of control as he began stripping the bark off trees.
With the hull of his Jenner. The quadcopters had somehow magnetized themselves onto his more exposed joints, sticking to him like mechanical parasites. 
 
A few moments later, Chet crashed, lodging himself into a tree. 
 
Missiles spilled out of the launching tubes from the impact. Some of the missiles themselves had also been breached, the Inferno gel stored inside slathering the tubes of the SRM-4 like an unlit fuse. The gel had already begun to ooze everywhere, even down to the cockpit. Tony could only watch him squirm inside his compartment, dazedly trying to unbuckle his harness. 
 
Tony could only watch as from the dark, a single bullet from a sidearm struck the Jenner from the side, the ricochet creating a spark that proceeded to ignite the gel.
 
Tony could only watch as the screaming began.
 
Despair engulfed him then, despite the chuckle that escaped his bleeding mouth. A part of him believed that this was all a terrible dream, and that he would wake up soon. 
 
What a foolish delusion. 
 
He mustered what little he had of his willpower, ignoring the burning pain and the taste of iron filling his throat as he tried to move his Jenner up. 
 
Sensing what he was doing, the enemy 'Mech stabbed him in the leg joint, pinning him down like an insect in a display case. He wiggled his control sticks in desperation, trying to wrestle himself free. Bereft of her weapon, the unknown 'Mech simply lifted his other leg with both her hands, and began to bend it. He could hear the sound of armor and structure screeching as if in pain, hear the individual myomer bundles snapping like failing rope, before something finally gave way, and with a harsh moan the leg of his Jenner broke off under her grip.
 
Dropping the leg, she moved a step closer, peering inside his cockpit. There was a pause, and for a moment hope welled in Tony's chest, praying that he'd been spared. Before it was crushed as she plucked a giant knife from her side and plunged it straight down to his cockpit. The knife cut the viewscreen off like a snuffed light, warping the metal behind it. He had enough time to choke out a tearless sob, before the blade breached through his compartment, impaling and killing him instantly.
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Chapter 8