DMHT11

=Chapter 11=
==Dead Man's Hand: A Taste Of Ashes==
DropShip Bloody Dagger
Low Orbit, Sweet Water
Coventry Province
Federated Commonwealth
10th July, 3057
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"Buggeration and ******!" Doolally slammed his fist into the armrest of his chair as he saw the red target icons appear on the main display. The militia base was supposed to be empty of all put support staff, or target practice, as he liked to call them. The combat troops were supposed to be out running DeWalt down, not scurrying around like ants.
Unfortunately, it was too late to abort the landing and try and boost for orbit. In a better maintained ship? It may have been a possibility, but the Bloody Dagger was no spring chicken, and the Erstwhile was still a civilian cargo hauler. That meant doing things the hard way, which meant fighting through an entire company of BattleMechs with armor support. Fortunately, while she may have been old, the Bloody Dagger still had all her teeth, and a DropShip could be a hell of a force multiplier if used correctly. Of cause, he'd still have to make it down to the MechBay and go out there in his trusty Hunchback, but such was life.
Laser and missile fire rained down upon the scattered militia troops. Trying to keep them from gaining any kind of unit cohesion, even as the two pirate ships came in to land.
"Hit fast, hit hard, and keep hitting!" was Doolally's motto, and he fully intended to live up to it...right up until a Gauss Rifle round blew a hole clean through the protective cowling around one of the Bloody Daggers engines. The pilot compensated quickly, cutting thrust to its opposite number, but that only meant that they were going to hit the ground all the harder. More heavy weapons fire ripped into the centuries old transport, hitting far harder and more accurately then should have been possible.
A series of flashes illuminated the spaceport as the protective cowling that had been put up around the Ante-Up was blown clear. While the Clan built DropShip may not have been air worthy, there was nothing wrong with its weapons systems! As her crew were well trained and eager to do their part.
Missiles pocked already weak armor on the Bloody Dagger. The lasers probing deeper looking for something vital and finding an oxygen line. It should have been protected behind an armored bulkhead, but the metal had been ripped out to replace a sheet of armored on a damaged BattleMech which was never replaced. The line ruptured, and the near pure O2 inside instantly ignited, spreading fire across three decks. The safeties long since deactivated, allowing for secondary explosions spread fire further killing several crew-members. The few safety systems not disabled or dismantled tried to save the ship, but years of stripping out entire panels to find a single working microchip left gaps.
The Devil, I'd is often said is in the details. If anyone had taken the time to at least run a diagnostic on the emergency systems, what followed may have been averted.
Instead, the safeties cut the power to the nearest engine. The sensors that should have told them that two were already shut down having been rigged to always show perfectly functioning engines. As such, the pilot suddenly found herself trying to balance 3,600-tons of DropShip on only a single working engine, a hundred meters above the ground. Such an act was simply impossible, and it was all she could do to brave herself and utter a silent prayer as the Bloody Dagger plummeted to the ground.
The massive shock absorbers built into the landing strut tried to take the strain, but even fresh from the factory. It wood have been asking the impossible of them. They didn't just break under the force of impact, but insisted shattered, sending massive hydraulic pistons up into the crew quarters. These were at least empty, with all hands at battle stations, but that didn't stop the hull from buckling as it tried to absorb the raw kinetic force of the impact. The outer hull rippled from the bottom to the top. As panels and hatches popping open, with entire sheets of crudely repaired armor flying off. Fuel lines ruptured, making the already blazing fire all the worse.
Maybe half of the embarked MechWarriors were in their machines when everything went to shit, of which two were killed when the bays their 'Mechs were in suddenly became half the size they had been. Those that survived immediately made for the exits. Only to find two of the doors bent so badly out of shape that they'd never open again. One of the others taking fire from an entire company of tanks and AFV's. This resulted in a mad scramble for the remaining hatch, which just so happened to be facing the Erstwhile. Of these, five made it to open ground, the last patchwork Valkyrie, was almost immediately gunned-down by an Orion still proudly painted in the blue-and-white parade colors of the 3rd Lryan Guards. 
Nobody screwed with Doc Bart's planet and gets away with it!
Only four pirate made it back to the Dropship Erstwhile before her captain opened the taps wide. Sending the stolen cargo hauler skywards on a pillar of fusion fire, leaving Baron Doolally and the rest to their fate.
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*; Funny Note from Author Responding to a command if the Baron Doolally was too small time pirate be Joker's Nemisis: Joker: Who are you again? Doolally: You really don't remember? Joker: ...I got a complete blank here, to be honest. Doolally: You wiped out my pirate band! Joker: Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down? 
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