SmoMir Chpt 13

==Mirrorsmoke Company - Chapter 13 -==
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River Verja​
New Oslo​, Draconis Combine
October, 3018
[06:02] LOCAL TIME
I needed to be here fast. I needed to be here first. My team didn't need to relive even a fraction of this.
 
I was prepared to look at something that I knew was going to be painful for me, like reopening an old scar.
 
There were six tents that lined in front of the compound. Six tents that housed at least five beating hearts. Thirty kids.
 
It was a punishment detail, and these were the losers. Most likely from a competition of sorts, an old system that pushed them all to their limits, and if even a single link in the chain broke, they all had to suffer for it. Kept them primed against one another so that they wouldn't turn against their leash holders.
 
Something I hadn't had to do in a long time–one I was thankful they had switched it out to a different torture method, and I had been the only one left to remember how gruesome it could be.
 
Which meant there were more of us inside.
 
I hesitated. There was a tremble in my arm as soon as my hand ripped the first tent open. I held on.
 
Sunken eyes met my visor. They were huddled together, trying to maintain heat as they nursed their wounds and gritted through their bruises. There was no fear in their eyes, or rather, there was no light in them. Not anymore.
 
All of a sudden it was as if I was back in the orphanage again, back in those first weeks. Eyes looking back at me that once belonged to the older children that came and left. The cold gazes of animals trying to survive at all costs.
 
"Move," I ordered. They would not respond to soft words. Obeisance would have been the first thing beaten into them. It didn't help that my voice boomed in a low incomprehensible pitch; my helmet's scramblers were in full effect. "Get up."
 
One by one I opened the tents, and one by one they obeyed. Some hobbled, some couldn't even stand right. But they obeyed.
 
I took off my helmet, strapping it to my side. I felt naked, the cold and wet shower of the dawn's rain damping my hair. "You are being rescued. Do not resist."
 
I kept the barrel of my rifle pointed to the ground, but my finger was locked firmly on the trigger, praying to whatever deity that I didn't have to pull it on any of them today.
 
Confusion rang out among them. Then realization. Then despair.
 
"This-this is all a trick," one of the boys stuttered. Brave of him. "A test. Don't listen to him!"
 
All I did was point my head in the direction of the first floor windows from the building nearby, the brief muzzle flashes moving room to room.
 
For some, that was proof enough. They started sobbing.
 
"Let's go," I said softly, trying again. I smiled, as genuinely as I could muster. The first kindness they'd been given in a long time. "Follow me."
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[06:17] LOCAL TIME
"You're too late. Reinforcements are coming," one of the minders taunted in Japanese.
 
"Good," I retorted. "We'll keep this brief."
 
There was admittedly still a part of me that feared being in their presence. A part of me rattled frozen and afraid, like a horner caught staring in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.
 
Looking back, it was learned helplessness that kept us from overwhelming these people; kept us from using what they had taught us against them. The fear and pain they've caused us were permanent shackles on our wrists even after we had managed to free ourselves.
 
All it took were twenty-two men and women to cruelly pacify a group of kids into submission. Turned them into weapons for a purpose that's kept me awake for years.
 
Three of them were now tied to chairs inside their comms room. The last survivors of our attack. Mackenzie, along with a few subalterns, couldn't save the data that was scrubbed from the room, but they had managed to subdue the minders with the intent of interrogating them for information.
 
It was just us two, with the rest of my team securing the last of the fifty-seven children trained just like us.
 
I had to admit, coming from Mack, leaving some of them alive for information was a hell of a lot more merciful than I'd give her credit for, knowing what they had taught us.
 
They were surprisingly calm. Well, we all were. A simple fact was, they lost, and now they were all going to die whether or not they gave us what we wanted.
 
We weren't in a forgiving mood, especially not Mackenzie. She would have made it slow if I wasn't here to reign her in.
 
Minders weren't known by their names. In fact, we never even knew what some of their faces looked like underneath their uniforms and face masks. In contrast to our more advanced hardsuits, theirs were more for practical everyday appearance, tan and green military slacks meant for day to day use in the barracks.
 
They never wore any medals or markings, never kept to a routine we could glean anything out of, and they never spoke anything other than Japanese.
 
The only constant out of all of them was how often they liked to swing that baton of theirs on our bodies.
 
Without their mask, it was actually hard to believe–hard to grasp in my mind that these people could breathe the same air as me, ate the same food as me, even could have felt joy or pain or love. That these monsters could have families, could have had children of their own waiting for them somewhere.
 
There was a bitter taste in my mouth just thinking about it.
 
I turned to them, but my eyes were fixed to the woman. A streak of dried blood dripped from her nose, and there was a cut on her cheek big enough to form a curled half-smile on her face at all times.
 
"Who is backing you, and why are they training children?" I asked them. The voice scrambler in my helmet was deactivated, but it still sounded like my words were being garbled as I spoke.
 
None of them gave me a reply.
 
"What is the name of your organization? Are you ISF?"
 
The one in the middle, he was older. More senior. He was the only one who had given me a reaction, briefly raising one of his eyebrows, before returning into a neutral expression as he looked at me.
 
"Utter fools," he said, calmly. "You've all been misled…"
 
"Are you ISF?!" I snapped, raising my voice in vain.
 
He said nothing more, and returned to staring listlessly into the air. That was when I realized this was useless.
 
Were these even the boogeymen that Logan was paranoid over? Were we meant for more than just disposable killers? What was the point of all this?! More questions roiled inside my mind like a fucking storm, never ceasing, repeating over and over again.
 
What should have been the answers right in front me had only created a headache that threatened to burst out of my helmet.
 
"Let me have a try, Spear-Leader," Mack growled behind me, itching to do some carving with the way her hand was practically trembling over the knife strapped beside her. "I might have had a thing or two by now if you didn't interrupt me earlier."
 
At that, the woman shuddered, eyes somehow wide with fear as she stared at Mack's snarling helmet.
 
Unfortunately for her, time just ran out.
 
"Their back up is almost here, Speartip," Bjorna said over the channel. "Conventional aircraft; bombers from the looks of their sigs. You have three mikes to evacuate before the first wave blows the place sky high."
 
I sighed, turning to Mack. "Make it clean, Spear-2."
 
She gave a bitter huff, before her hand reached for the sidearm instead. The minders seemed only resigned to their fates. Not the woman.
 
"Glory to House Kurita!" the last one began to shout.
 
The woman began to wail, struggling in her chair. "Wait, don't shoot! I surrender! Spare me and I'll tell you everything I know!"
 
Mackenzie laughed. The kind of laugh that the minders themselves made, when they indulged in our pain.
 
"Well how about that," she said, all too gleefully. "We just found the one fucking minder in this place who has an actual functioning heart! Where were you when your ilk took ours from us?"
 
Three shots bellowed out in the room. Only two lives were snuffed.
 
Mack's last shot missed, when I pulled her gun away at the last second.
 
She turned to me. She understood. "...Was that fucking wise?" She asked, but there wasn't any anger from her end, only stupefied surprise. "Sir."
 
Bjorna joined in. "I'd have to agree with her here, Spear-Actual. Is this the right course of action?"
 
I didn't answer.
 
My gaze lingered at the woman, just a bit. It was hard for me to gather some small pity for the minder.
 
"Let me handle Watcher. We're taking her with us," I declared, in a way that brooked no argument. "Is that clear, Spear-2? Huldra?"
 
"Crystal, Spear-1."
 
"...Understood, Actual."
 
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. This was the right call. Right then and there I was happy that Logan wasn't here to see this. He wouldn't have let her live. He would have whispered something into my ear; tried to convince me that killing the woman was justified. He would have spoken the right words to make me listen, too.
 
If there was one person that could match Mackenzie's pure rabid belligerent hate for the Combine, then it would have been Logan's long and cold plans.
 
A subaltern was made to carry the woman, who was still sobbing inconsolably. We ran out as fast as our legs could take us.
 
We weren't even halfway to the transports before the compound lit up into a blaze of fire over the horizon, mimicking sunlight peeking through the rain clouds for a split second.
 
More explosions came shortly after, the heavy rumble of the blasts ringing through my bones. Those fliers were more than capable of detecting our subalterns with their scanners, but instead of eliminating what should still be clusters of drones in the area, were instead focused on flattening the buildings.
 
As soon as they finished their objective, they completely ignored the survivors.
 
"Huldra, do they have dropships inbound?" I asked.
 
"Affirmative, Speartip. That's the second wave–two Leopards, still four mikes out."
 
Time to set the ambush, then. "Good. Get the subalterns to fetch the grounding charges out of the dropships."
 
"If Watcher is right, Spear-Actual," Bjorna warned, "then what you're all about to face aren't backwater mercs eking out a humble living. These will be soldiers, trained Kuritan MechWarriors that somehow have access to heavier and harder hitting metal we've ever faced before. You still have a window where you can be extracted. Are you sure this is what you all want to do?"
 
And she would be right. We've already won the fight. All we needed to do now was to run to the exit, and we would've had another one up over the snakes.
 
But I couldn't stand it. We were done running. Done hiding in the shadows.
 
"These bastards are expecting infantry they can just stomp on, Huldra," I retorted. "Let's make them regret that mistake."
 
And we weren't in the clear, despite her claims. All fifty-seven of our brethren might have been safe and sound inside our hidden dropships, but they needed a window to take off without anybody in hiding trying to shoot them down. I just couldn't risk it.
 
I spoke over the team channel. "Last stretch, Speartip! Ready your, Everests, it's time to show these snakes just how well they've taught us!"
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[06:20] LOCAL TIME
The river Verja provided us ample cover, as it circled the cratered remains of the compound which had been constructed inside this large man-made stream, forming a terrain resembling a pair of lips from above as the waters reconnected at another point, flowing further westwards.
 
The artificial river island was so huge in fact, that they had enough space to land their dropships just beside the compound without issue.
 
The AO was still quiet, thankfully. Four minutes had been more than enough time to get on my ride, and help coordinate the subalterns as they laid their traps. Our cloaked Everests were crouched, camouflaged among the tree lines of Asker's more greener, more diminutive trees.
 
Except for Mack, who was waiting prone underwater, ready to start the opening play that Bjorna and I had orchestrated.
 
The snakes here chose a weird location just to abuse more orphans. No civilization within a hundred kilometers; the compound completely isolated except for the old remnants of pre-Star League era settlements that trailed past the river centuries ago.
 
"The jammer will activate as soon as the trap has sprung, Speartip, and I've also taken the liberty of spoofing any coverage from their satellites around the area, just in case. Good hunting."
 
This isolation would be their tomb. They weren't the only ones capable of covering up evidence.
 
They arrived soon after. Two Leopards, accompanied by the bombers that had now begun to swoop down to eliminate the remaining subalterns.
 
Dropship pilots, by their nature of being a vital resource to the interstellar infrastructure of the Inner Sphere, were cautious people. If it was any other time, their training would demand of them to never drop hot unless absolutely necessary, or if the battlefield was so one-sidedly skewed to their benefit.
 
Like, say, pitting their MechWarriors against regular small arms infantry.
 
The toys from the Iskander frame seemed almost magical to me. I'd never seen what the 'Mech actually looked like; the most I knew was that one of Emil's boys had been eyeing the machine from the moment he saw it on his COMP/CON. If just a single gadget from it could have this much use, then I was looking forward to the day when Logan would actually allow us to go all out with the more specialized BattleMechs in his collection.
 
Which was why all hell broke loose the moment the snakes tried to drop their BattleMechs right on top of our grounding mines.
 
The mines acted quickly the moment they were set off; a pulse of implosive energy so strong that, for a brief moment, I thought even light bent around it as it pulled everything caught in its artificial gravity well.
 
The effect was like dropping weights on one of the wings of a panicking bird, the dropships' thrusters boosting white-hot as they desperately tried to pitch themselves upwards in an attempt to escape whatever force was pulling them down.
 
That had been our cue to attack.
 
Mackenzie rose up from the waters, unfurling the newly installed flight systems on her back. Sword-like wings extended behind her, tearing and burning her cloak from her pair of baleful thrusters activating, their whistling turbines humming a growling drone. Then came a bright light and a thunderous boom as she soared high through the air, her charged blade and shotgun in hand.
 
She collided with her target dropship, attaching herself at the side as she impaled her sword through the seams of one of the rear-half hangar bay doors, firing off shotgun shell after shotgun shell at one of its main wing engines. The only sound I could hear from her in the channel was her maniacally laughing all the while.
 
We were no slouches either. The rest of us, both subaltern and pilot, immediately unleashed a hail of bullets, missiles and explosives at both of the dropships. What remained of our infantry had taken out heavy launchers that needed two people to properly aim. Equipped with Gandiva missiles, they made short work of the four bombers that were simply too slow to outfly the payloads locked on to them.
 
Kristin was shooting her anti-materiel rifle at the armaments, surgically disabling the underbelly panels of the Leopards one by one before their medium lasers could focus fire on any one of us; an act made easy when they were suspended in the air, their less armored underside completely exposed.
 
Lisbeth began to deploy one of her turret drones, directing a rain of rapid autocannon fire towards the dropships, while readying a swarm of her Nexus Hunter-Killers, quadcopters each the size of a small bird. They were steadily hovering around her, ready to cause chaos to electronic systems.
 
As soon as one of the turbines failed, too damaged to achieve more upward thrust, the one Leopard got pulled down out of the air, smashing into the ground. Mackenzie then jumped to the other still airborne dropship, planting her sword on the topside turret like a cleaver on a butcher's block as she tried to work on its engines next.
 
Ed and I were setting up the field, moving closer inside the island as we threw down deployable covers to replace the demolished buildings. The small, car-sized packs expanded, segmented exo-alloy platings almost a meter thick locking into place, transforming into short walls we could crouch behind. I threw smoke charges in front of us and around the ships, completely enshrouding the area as Ed planted his Hex charges underneath all the smoke.
 
Perfect timing too, when the energy from the grounding mines had finally been used up.
 
"Oh fuuck!" Mack screamed. The Leopard she was attached to had managed to stay in the air long enough, but without the gravity well keeping it in place, it now spiraled out of control. The dropship blasted off into the distance, spinning once, then twice, before I heard the sound of it crashing both in my comms, and in my audio feed.
 
"Spear-2! Two!" I shouted, "Status?!"
 
"I'm okay!" Mack replied, "Got the fuck out of there on time! The ship crashed about half a klick away. I'm going to try ripping open its underbelly for survivors–if you've got a spare, then now is a good time to send somebody to back my ass!"
 
"Five," I ordered immediately, "Get to that ship and assist Two! Four, on me and Three, now! Let's sweep and clear, then double time it to the second one!"
 
I continued barking orders. "Huldra, this is as good a time as any for those kids to leave! Get those ships flying!"
 
Kristin listened, and her 'Mech rose from her spot, sprinting towards the smoke trail. Lisbeth moved closer to us, placing another turret drone between me and Ed as she hid behind a pillar that had remained standing after the bombing.
 
Along the riverbanks were our ships, the holographic canopies covering them entirely were pulled away, revealing something not unlike the Combine's Leopards. They were angular and aerodyne in design, but longer and three-legged, sporting only a pair of large sliding hatches on each side rather than four bay doors.
 
An array of thrusters lit up on its underside, making it hover, before its legs slotted further into itself, turning its two rear legs into larger thrusters as it proceeded to fly away in the distance.
 
I would have said mission accomplished, but we were nowhere near close to done.
My attention returned to the enemy dropship as it sprung back to life, and the emergency release hatches in all its hangar doors activated, allowing the 'Mechs inside to finally exit.
 
As if we would ever let them out unscathed. The heat signature of a brave Jenner bolted out of the ship, spewing forth a volley of SRMs in our direction, trying to intimidate us.
 
At the same time, wild beams of PPC shots whizzed past us, as a Vindicator and a Shadow Hawk had just joined the fray. The latter activated its jump jets, landing on top of their dropship to try and see past the smoke, while the former was hiding inside, weaving in and out of the bay doors as it fired.
 
Lisbeth unleashed her swarm of quadcopters at them, some having been ordered to detonate their greywash payloads, while some cold-welded themselves to the exposed joints, forcibly interfacing with the DI computer of the BattleMechs so that she could hack into their electronic systems.
 
Ed took out a new toy for his Everest, one I had only known the name of, when my computer systems blared out its information as I looked at it, the designation Hammer U-RPL. Some kind of rotary grenade launcher. He took to it with ease, his Everest saturating the area with frag shells that the speeding Jenner had no chance of dodging.
 
I pulled out a new gun.
 
The Legionnaire Battle Rifle was a different beast compared to my previous 'Mech scale assault rifle. Heavier but was more precise, chambered in large 40mm rounds. I could either shoot it in four round bursts, or fire fully automatic at 360 rounds per minute.
 
With a flick of a switch, I had activated one of my ammo cases, priming the sabot rounds ready. A belt of the ammunition was fed into my rifle, and I readied my sights.
 
The Jenner didn't last long. It had stepped on a mine, turning its foot into a red hot slag. It was still standing, but losing control as it was peppered by explosives that rocked the MechWarrior's balance with every step.
 
I'd like to say the pilot was valiant, but the man was Combine. A barrage of turret fire was shredding away its armor, but still it moved, unleashing alpha strikes in one final desperation to try and find us in the smoke.
 
My control sticks moved, targeting reticle aimed at the BattleMech's central torso. The neural-bridge made everything so clear even under the haze of combat; my mind was a cool and still lake under a roiling storm.
 
I pulled the trigger, and my rifle bellowed. Four rounds of armor-piercing metal dug straight through what remained of its armor, ignoring structure and internal systems entirely, finding their way to its heart, the fusion engine.
 
The effect was immediate, as a blinding and searing white-hot explosion covered the area. Violent fusion reactions cascaded uncontrollably. For a brief moment, the sun was right by us. The man never knew what killed him instantly.
 
One down.
 
A hot snap of bent metal screeched beside me, making me flinch. What remained of the turret drone was a bent mass of smoking tri-barrel and ammo housing.
 
That single instance of me averting my eyes was enough to be used against me.
 
A string of warnings beeped in my cockpit, a shrieking tone that told me that I had just been locked on. Shrapnel from the turret had torn into my shroud, rendering it useless.
 
I covered my head with my arm just as a volley of missiles were about to hit me, but then came a pinpoint accurate bolt of ionized particles from the Shadow Hawk, hitting me underneath the elbow, completely bypassing my shoulder plate as the bolt tore into my shoulder joint, damaging my arm in two different locations at the same time.
 
The crashing sound of the blows were deafening inside my cockpit, but the actual damage had been worse, diagnostics firing off multiple alarms–the armor held, but another hit or two like that to my shoulder would have rendered my arm useless.
 
I counter-fired, holding down my position with rapid bursts from my rifle, making the BattleMech move down. I was exposed to their scanners now.
 
My hands moved rapidly, sending swathes of coordinates in the navigation panel while darting to my control sticks to reposition myself.
 
"Three, I've been made!" I said, "Don't let that Vindicator get close!"
 
"Got it," Ed said, "Going to try and take its attention!"
 
His Everest moved, sliding down to the riverbanks. Making use of the slope, he drew to the side of the terrain, popping in and out to minimize his presence, and thunking grenades over to keep the Vindicator from leaving the ship.
 
"Four," I called out, "How are those hacks coming along?!"
 
"This–" she started, but got interrupted. I could hear the sound of a PPC piercing through ferrocrete over her comms. "–isn't the kind of job you can rush. I've been invading their systems for…"
 
She didn't finish. There was a lull in the fighting.
 
"...A while now."
 
There was a lull in the fighting!
I tugged at my control sticks, bidding my Everest to jump over the cover. I flicked a few switches, punching my throttle stick at maximum speed towards the dropship. Both Lisbeth and Ed did the same. We circled the ship, and ahead of us were both the Shadow Hawk and Vindicator.
 
Completely shut down due to overheating.
We unleashed everything we had on them, never giving them any chance to recover.
 
They died alongside another Jenner, one of its legs severed by a stray blade stabbing into one of the bay doors.
 
"Check for heartbeats," I ordered, doing the same. "Any survivors?"
 
"None," Ed declared.
 
"Nothing on my end," Lisbeth said.
 
I huffed out a long breath. I pulled out a grenade from my side, lobbing it inside the dropship itself by the pilot seat.
 
We watched as the ship burst into flames. We stayed there for a bit, watching the fire consume everything. I mulled over the events that had led to this.
 
…Completely forgetting about Mackenzie and Kristin!
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"Shouldn't we go check on them?" Kristin asked.
 
Mackenzie thought about it. Thought about it as deeply as she could. She checked their life signs over the navigation panel, all three of them seemed fine.
 
They were even on their way to them now.
 
She was just too distracted replaying a recording of her and the little snitch gutting the lone surviving Dragon too stubborn to die from the crash. This had to be one for the fucking record books!
 
She thought about it again.
 
"...Nah," she decided, rewinding the video from the start.
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Performance Dossier: GRAVES, ELISABETH
 NAME: GRAVES, ELISABETH
 BIRTHPLACE: LILLEHAMMER, NEW OSLO I
 BIRTH DATE: 28/11/3003
 EYE COLOR: GREEN
 HAIR: BLACK
 
 ACQUISITION:
 Recovered age nine (9). Daughter of a disgraced noble, given to ensure the survival of her house.
 
 PERFORMANCE:
 Top performer in all their theoretics lessons. Her ability to digest and retain information is at the level of a trained professional, despite age. Unremarkable in all other aspects. Has a tendency to ask too many questions, or request for additional information before acting.
 
 COMMENTS
 Too curious by far, and dangerously observant. Keep the passwords changed at frequent intervals and the documents encrypted. There is no telling what she can glean from even a single iota of information carelessly given to her.
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Chapter 13