DRASCTIS 2

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=Die Rettungsaktion - A Story of the Concertverse Inner Sphere - Chapter 2 -=
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=== Fretting over possibilities of failure ===
Marian Hegemony Armed Forces HQ
City of Sutlej, Bolan
Principality of Bolan/Marian Occupation Zone
28 January 3034
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Holographic light splashed red and blue over the face of Enis Yassin. Now elevated beyond regular praetor rank to the elevated title of Augusti Pro Praetore Imperium, the responsibility of conquering Bolan in the Imperator's name was his. With the orders to minimize losses his rotation strategy and slow grinding pressure, with attendant praise from Alphard for the low casualty and material losses, had been certain to win him a triumph.
 
And yet, he now regretted it.
 
"Where is the Sixth's Second Cohort?!" he demanded of his staff huddled around him. "We need to counterattack these landings before they gain a foothold!"
 
"Still coming in from Baluchi Province, Praetor," replied Princeps Indira Choudhuri. She was one of the rare plebian officers to reach her rank, and reflected that in how carefully she moderated her tone. "Our aerospace centuries are asking permission to shift priority to air superiority. Their losses over Bolan City are becoming prohibitive. We've already lost two maniples."
 
Yassin fumed at that. Air dominance had long been enjoyed in this war, but the Arcadians were not the Bolanese. Their carrier-based fliers were sweeping his cover from the skies, allowing the landing forces' support to hit the troops hard. If I lose a legion, I might as well drink poison, he ruminated. Sean will kill me for sure.
 
At least, if I lose an Imperial Legion… He noted the markers on the holotank. The Arcadian forces dropping by orbital pod and assault DropShip were coming down on the gladiators, not a line legion. On the one hand, this meant they were wreaking havoc. Even though they were piloting mostly light machines by reports, those machines had high quality Star League technology and were vastly outperforming the Collapse-era machines the gladiators employed. On the other hand, they weren't doing this to either V or VI Legio. Every moment the gladiators endured the onslaught of the enemy elite and air power was a moment his real soldiers were granted to get into position to hold the enemy.
 
They chose to hit the Gladiators, why? Why land in that sector and not… Horror came over him as his eyes glanced towards one of the more prominent structures in the Gladiator Auxilia's current zone. No. No no no no…! "Vector in aerospace forces to the Aahana Stadium!" he ordered. "The enemy is trying to free our slaves!"
 
The order was sent, but even as the command went out, Yassin could only watch as the glowing red icons of enemy aerospace and DropShips descended upon the site in force. What will I tell the Imperator?!, he groaned internally.
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=== The ambitions of Invasion ===
Hegemony Slave Processing Center, Bolan City
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The Princess Aahana Memorial Stadium, built for Bolan's beloved football competitions and for other events, was repurposed to less-festive means by the Marian legions upon their arrival: it was the location they employed for processing prisoners of war and marked captives for export to Alphard as slaves. Here the captives, clad in white tunics and little else, were held in pens while the legions awaited the final fall of the Bolan's last defenders in the heart of the city.
 
Among them was Gita Umayr herself, the Grand Princess of Bolan. Caught in a Marian ambush while visiting the troops, she was consigned to this place to await the same fate as her soldiers and many others, all while some of her own people changed their coats and sided with the invader to win favors. They gave her no special confinement, simply leaving her in a pen with several other captives, a collection of military personnel and captives from other major cities selected for enslavement by the collaborators aiding the Marians. Twenty people per pen, with mats for sleeping and buckets for other matters. Collars marked whether someone was to be given as a slave to a collaborator among the planet's population or shipped to Alphard once the campaign was over. Her own collar was a special sigil, marking her for delivery to Imperator Sean himself. He wants me and my family for trophies, she thought bitterly, knowing her son Jagdish was in another pen and her husband Mohinder reportedly in the infirmary from a failed suicide attempt. She glanced down at her cot, made of plastic with paper sheets so she couldn't make a working noose out of them. Even her tunic, while cloth, was of a lightweight material that ripped when she tried to strangle herself.
 
If all else fails, maybe one of the others will strangle me, she thought. Then I won't be a trophy. Amita will have our crown and might yet escape to join Lalitha…
 
"Do not lose hope, Highness." The voice was that of General Lord Sandip Nibhanupudi, captured when she was. He drew closer to her. "I overheard a new captive in another pen. A fleet is burning in to aid us."
 
"Do not dash my heart with hope, General," she said bitterly. "We sought aid before, and none came. Our armies are broken, our ships fled or captured or destroyed. Who would bother to aid us now, with our defeat all but assured, when they would not come three or six months ago?"
 
"It is no mere rumor. You can see it in our guards. They're nervous. They're expecting combat."
 
She tuned Lord Sandip out and uttered another prayer that Amita might yet get away, that maybe some loyalists would get her on a DropShip and a friendly JumpShip would take her away. Exile would be bitter, but it was better than their fate on Alphard.
 
It was odd. As her children grew up she saw them only occasionally, usually to admonish them as to their duties and insist they behaved with the right comportment. But now that she faced the end of their world, she regretted it all. Amita, Jagdish, Lalitha, Rama, all of those little ones she had, all the pride she had for them, but how much did they know it? How much of a mother had she been?
 
Such is the price royalty has always paid. My father was no different toward me, nor his parents to him. We have Duty to attend to. Our children learn the same. But now… now it is all so hollow.
 
"Highness." The word was said in a hushed tone, but there was energy in it. Lord Sandip gestured upward. "Look."
 
She did. Through the transparent plastic at the top of the slave pen she looked up at a twilight sky beset with crimson, the kind her ancestors might have seen in the heart of India millennia ago.
 
But now the crimson sky was lit up with ruby and emerald and sapphire beams that lashed out faintly, joined by the occasional cerulean bolt. Every few seconds a ball of fire formed.
 
Can it be? she wondered. Has someone truly come?
 
At first nothing else seemed different. Not until the roar of fusion jets filled the air. Tracer fire lashed out from the Marian anti-air units near the stadium, accompanied by streaks of missile fire and energy weapons that lashed downward. The roaring got louder and louder…
 
And then it came into view. An aerodyne DropShip, its surface bristling with autocannon and laser emplacements, coming toward them from the north while sapphire beams and golden flame lashed at unseen foes. The vessel was painted a fine azure, with an insignia that Gita couldn't quite make out from the angle. It flew overhead, doors opening. From those doors figures, humanoid but not quite human, jumped out. Jets of flame erupted from their backs and she realized they were jump infantry… no, not jump infantry, battle armor infantry.
 
The air filled with quick thunderclaps. Cries of pain and surprise echoed through the air. Gita's head turned left and noted a couple of the miles running forward, rifles at the ready. The lead Marian went down in an explosion of blood from his chest. The second had only a moment to react to his friend's death before his head exploded. The result left a grisly smear of red and gray on the transparent plastic wall of the pen.
 
For all Gita had no sympathy for her captors, she felt sick at the sight of it and forced herself to turn away. Even then she still closed her eyes, as if willing the sight to vanish from her memory.
 
It did not.
 
This is what happens. All of those years, selling weapons from our factories… and this is the result. I am just as responsible, I should be facing it, but yet I can't. I can't face that… that grisliness…
 
"Highness!"
 
The firmness in Sandip's voice brought Gita back to her senses. She looked up to see her fellow captives, all of them, were assembled around her such that nobody outside could see her. Sandip was crouched at her side. "Please, pull yourself together, Your Highness. I know it's terrible."
 
"I…" An instinct to lash out at this man for humiliating her came, but she quashed it. He is protecting me. Be grateful. "Of course, General. My thanks."
 
"They're coming!"
 
The group dispelled, allowing Gita to see some of the nearby pens were already open. Men in sky blue battle armor approached. The left arm of the human-shaped armor ended with a vicious claw of five sharp fingers and the barrel of a light machine gun. The right arm had a standard five-fingered hand with a large cannon barrel built into it, although she wasn't sure if it was a laser aperture or some other weapon. The stock of a rifle of some sort was visible over the left shoulder. The suit helmet's black visor prevented her from making any eye contact with the occupants.
 
One of them opened the pen up by ripping through the plastic with its claw and tearing the door off. "Everyone out, single file," a female voice ordered, her voice crackling slightly through the external speaker of the armor. "It's safer inside the structure interior than out here."
 
"Who are you?" Gita asked.
 
"Major Catrina Michaels, Arcadian Rangers Armored Infantry Battalion," the woman replied. "Your Highness?"
 
Gita nodded. She imagined that facial recognition systems were alerting her liberators to her identity, however ragged she looked. "I am Grand Princess Gita of Bolan, yes."
 
"If you'll follow me, Your Highness, we'll see to your safety. Major General Armstrong's given explicit orders for you and your family to be secured and kept under protection, the same for all of your senior advisors."
 
 The Arcadians have their own motives then… But very well. They don't take slaves at least. "I am at your disposal, and would very much like to see my husband and son, when you find them."
 
"Lieutenant Nowitzki!" Michaels turned to another squad of armored soldiers. "She's the Princess of Bolan. Help her find her family and get them into the structure, ASAP."
 
"Yes, Major!" a German-accented voice replied.
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=== Yet another War ===
Embassy of the Arcadian Free March
Dakar, West Africa
Terra, Terran Union
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The sea breeze moderated the heat of the equatorial West African climate that the people of Dakar were long accustomed to. For Max Wenck, Landgrave of Windhoek on Eilenburg, it was a reminder of his own coastal semi-arid home in Windhoek Province, where his estate awaited his eventual return after his tour of duty on Terra. The fifty-three year old diplomat was at the end of a career that took him the length and breadth of the former Lyran Commonwealth and Free Worlds League. Curse the African heat, he thought from his office balcony. The skyline of Dakar filled his vision, including the Star League Hall's spire-topped dome in the distance. The Terrans' spire was deliberately formed in the shape of a Cameron Star. From the southeast the elongated horizontal point was only slightly visible, as it was orientated towards Unity City a hemisphere and continent away. All show, Wenck thought contemptuously. Expenditure meant as a quiet insult to the rest of us, those who 'destroyed' the Star League. As if the Terrans had been innocent babes betrayed by the Great Houses.
 
That contempt reflected in the Terrans' choice for embassy locale. Instead of foreign embassies being seated in Geneva, where the Union government met, or even the old Star League, they'd been shunted to Dakar. It was at least in a similar time zone and a mere hour or so away by DropShuttle, but none could fail to note the importance of the distance. The Terran government did not exchange ambassadors, it exchanged ministers, and the Successor States would have their deliberation hall well away from the far more important business of the Terran Congress in Geneva. No, they were to spend their time sitting in Dakar and negotiating and dealing within the Star League Hall, all while while waiting for their Terran betters to deign them an audience or, more rarely, an address by the Chancellor or Director-General. A session was soon to start there and Wenck would assume the floor. Everyone in the Inner Sphere was watching now.
 
Having gotten his desired whiff of fresh air with peace and quiet, Wenck retreated back into his office. The door swung open and admitted his aide, Lawrence Castel. The Concord man nodded and in that typical Concordian way acted without regard to their social ranks. "The media's waiting outside. Word's fully spread and the Marians are demanding a formal answer."
 
"I will give it, but the media will come first."
 
Castel raised an eyebrow. "Really? That doesn't sound appropriate."
 
"It is not preferred, but my remark will be short, and the official response preserved for my peers." Wenck gathered his noteputer and stepped out of the office, through the office foyer, the halls, and to the main foyer of the Embassy. From the upper landing he could see the assembled representatives of media outlets across Terra and the Inner Sphere. Private, public, and state-run media, all here to get word of what was happening on Bolan and what the official diplomatic position of the Free March was. From their perspective, his place on the upper floor and landing placed him behind the Free March's seal emblazoned on the railing, the white gold-winged hawk on a field of blue and red. It will make for an image.
 
Wenck had labored over the best way to express what was happening. He didn't have the time or energy to give twenty questions, or parse for the reporters and the masses the diplomatic language he'd gotten from Arcadia. A soundbite will work better. "I am due at the League Hall," he said brusquely. "I will take one question."
 
A Rengo reporter was quickest. "Free March forces are confirmed engaged in battle on Bolan against the Marian Hegemony. Is this a formal Arcadian intervention into the Hegemony's war on the Principality of Bolan?"
 
Wenck grinned and shook his head. "Nicht ein schlacht," he said, making sure his voice carried for their benefit, "ein Rettungsaktion."
 
He promptly turned away, leaving them to shout more questions while heading towards the rear exit and his waiting aircar.
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=== Ordeals of Combat ===
Bolan City, Disputed Territory
Bolan
Principality of Bolan/Marian Occupation Zone
29 January 3034
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The last twenty-six hours of Dani Verdes' life had been the greatest ordeal she'd known since her mother drove her from the house at the age of eighteen.
 
Combat wasn't new. She'd seen it on Fianna and Radostov. The intensity, however, that was new. The planetary defenders of those worlds had barely been live fire exercises compared to the ferocity with which the Marians resisted their expanding landing zone. Even where their machines were sometimes subpar, they fought tenaciously and forced the Arcadian troops to earn every meter in fire and blood. It was already being said that the Arcadian Rangers' battle armor contingent was down by fifty percent. As Marian reinforcements moved up that was sure to get worse.
 
Dani had other problems. Charlie Company's job was to hold a major throughway that would link them to the city center and the Bolanese defense perimeter. The Marians undoubtedly realized what that meant, so over the last several hours they'd send a couple of company-sized attacks to test the defenses… and were now putting what felt like an entire battalion in the field against them.
A shot from a Bulldog battle tank chipped armor from the hip of her Marauder. She might have shot the thing with a PPC, but she was already running hot from finishing off a Marian Grasshopper and her heat levels wouldn't let her fire just yet, not without risking an ammo cookoff. She maneuvered her 'Mech to the side to avoid at least some of the incoming missile salvo from the tank.
 
Several emerald beams speared the tank's front plate, hitting in close enough proximity that one drilled through and set off the ammunition inside the tank's body. The machine blew apart from the inside.
 
At Dani's side, Lt. Jonny Kono's Thunderbolt looked battered. The right arm was missing, depriving the machine of a large-caliber laser, but the trio of torso-mounted medium lasers were still in play.
"I owe you one, Charlie One-Four."
 
"Don't mention it, One-Two. Just keep our Prince alive, ya?" Jonny spoke English with the particular accent of an Iaukean Islander, a unique people on Arcadia of combined Polynesian, Balinese, Filipino, and Papuan descent.
"Trying," she promised, turning her attention to a Centurion about to menace Prince Thomas in Liberator, the inherited Black Knight of House Proctor. She fired on the machine with her autocannon, tearing armor from its torso and drawing its attention… and it's fire. Golden flame on its right arm accompanied the autocannon shells that stripped her left arm down to the myomer.
 
The arm was still functional, though, and with her heat reduced further Dani brought both of her arm-mounted PPCs to bear. The extended range Star League model weapons packed a punch. Cerulean energy flayed armor from the fittingly-named Marian machine. Two PPC hits were enough to worry a pilot in such a machine, but this one took a third, as Prince Thomas recognized the threat and fired a shot into his prospective attacker as well. Smoke billowed from inside the Centurion's torso. They'd hit something vital.
 
Another contact was already showing up in red on her secondary flat display. The holotank shifted to show the new threat; an Orion. Before she could adjust to meet it the hip-mounted autocannon of the heavy 'Mech fired. Only a last minute turn kept most of the barrage from striking in its entirety to tear the arm off, but she lost what was left of the armor and got a warning light for actuator damage in the elbow.
One PPC nearly useless… couldn't have fired again from the heat anyway. Dani brought her right arm up and squeezed off a shot. She thought she'd miss given the Orion pilot's movement, but it wasn't enough to keep her shot from playing over the side of its torso above the hip autocannon. The excited particles of the cannon burned deep into said armor…
 
In an expanding cloud of flame and metal, the entire side of the Orion came apart, sending the weapon-tipped arm flying away. Dani could hardly believe her luck. Got through the armor, hit his AC ammo. It all cooked off. Lucky shot!
 
The Orion's woes weren't over yet. A barrage of missiles descended on the machine, pummeling it with at least forty projectiles, over half of which connected. The pilot struggled in vain to keep his war machine from falling over.
The perhaps temporary loss of his ally didn't stop the Centurion from fighting back as well. After discharging their autocannon at Thomas' Black Knight, the pilot swapped targets and fired the medium lasers and missile launcher at Dani.
The laser hits cut through the Marauder's left arm like a scalpel. The limb's indicator on her status screens went black, showing it as lost. Dani gave little attention to it as she was busy trying to keep her machine standing against the missiles pummeling it, seven in all. With some effort the Marauder didn't lose its footing.
 
"Charlie 1-2, watch your six," Jonny warned.
 
"What, we've got them behind us?!" Dani tracked the Centurion with her remaining PPC and autocannon. Shots from both blew into the torso of the machine. Its autocannon-mounted right arm fell dead, still attached to the machine but unmoving. Another barrage of missiles from the fire support unit hit the Centurion until it toppled, a smoking ruin made of its heart.
 
"Negative, 1-2," said Thomas, his voice grave. "There are civilians back there."
 
Dani had only a moment to see what he meant, but she gasped at it. With the other roadways blocked off or in Marian hands, this was the only feasible route for people fleeing the combat zone and the prospect of a Marian-ruled Bolan. Her sensors showed their vehicles as they raced along, trying desperately to not be noticed.
 
I don't know what the Marians will do to them, but they clearly don't care about shooting in their direction, she thought But someone has to. Remembering her place as Lance Lieutenant for Prince Thomas, she gave a firm order. "Everyone stay focused, and keep them off the road. We have to keep them off this road!"
 
The others affirmed the order. Despite the heavy damage to her machine, Dani pressed on through the fight.
 
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For all his life, Angus Campbell never saw such ferocious fighting as this. The McAffe native had twenty years of experience that included being one of the few journalists that the mad High General Cutter of the Cutter Brigade allowed to remain embedded with his troops. He'd seen much of the heavy fighting on Hollabrunn when the Free March annihilated Cutter's psychopathic mercenaries.
 
But even their bloody demise didn't have the destruction that over six months of continuous warfare brought to Bolan. Bolan City had some intact quarters, but only those sections of the city that fell quickly to Marian invasion; this section and many others were filled with half-destroyed buildings or just outright piles of rubble.
 
Campbell and his crew were embedded with the Arcadian military for the duration of the campaign. After signing the usual forms affirming their awareness of the risks and that they would abide by the laws of war, they headed off under an escort of MPs and battle armored soldiers to get a glimpse of Bolan City. The residents were running low on food, as were the besieged Bolanese troops, and even the Marians were reportedly being careful with rations. Bolan was a dry, mountainous world, and it did not yield crops easily.
 
After some interviews and a near miss with a maniple of Marian soldiers, Campbell and his crew joined a convoy heading back to the Arcadian zone. The refugees in it were eager to take up the Arcadian relocation offer, especially those in the liberated slave camps.
 
Despite his hopes, they didn't make the journey quietly. They were partway out of the city when the first explosions were heard. Some drivers peeled off but most kept going, eager to get to safety as they were. The people here were used to explosions.
 
And then it came. A fierce fight on the northwest side of the road. BattleMechs — Arcadian and Marian — were in a hot firefight.
 
"Put th' bloody camera that way!" Campbell shouted at his man. Donald Kildare was the fellow's name, and he seemed determined to defy his own name by being, well, something of a pantywaist, or so Campbell thought. Sure, he was just brave enough to be here, but he didn't understand the nature of the job to know where to look.
 
Still, he did at least listen, and now their holo-camera was pointed squarely at the fighting. Campbell knew enough about the machines to recognize the Centurion - in Marian colors - and the Marauder, and it was the latter machine he had the focus put onto as the pilot pulled off some maneuvers and took some really skilled shots. The single shot that blew the side off another big humanoid 'Mech was a thing of beauty.
 
In fact, it was perfect. This whole thing was perfect. This was the kind of footage embedded journalists would kill to have to their name.
 
Missiles from the Centurion pummelled the Marauder while twin laser beams cut the arm off the machine. A couple missiles flew past and rained down around the road. A shockwave hit their vehicle and the driver nearly lost control.
 
Kildare dropped the camera and ducked back down. Campbell did look for cover for a second, after which he rose. "Well, get the camera back on!" he shouted.
 
"To hell with that!"
 
"Bloody useless…" Campbell picked up the machine himself. It looked like it was no longer transmitting, but it could record. He'd just have the rest of the footage sent out later.
 
Maybe I'll finally get a show of my own…
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=== Ambush among the ruins ===
Outside Bolan City
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The rubble of ruined buildings and the faint crimson skies of the fires consuming the Bolanese capitals painted a picture of utter desolation for Second Lieutenant Njoki Kihoro. The Arcadian woman wondered if she would ever get used to it. For a moment she imagined the sight in her home city of Nakuru on the Mull continent's northeastern coastline, the cool ocean winds curling the rising smoke and bringing in fresh air to fuel the flames of war.
 
Fourteen months ago, war seemed so far away, she thought. Now I am invading a fifth world in the span of so many months. Kitzingen and Zvolen had submitted without a fight, but the fighting on Sterling and Radostov had been sharp, if short. The devastation hadn't reached this level.
The other 'Mechs in her lance moved alongside her in the rubble. The Jaegers of her fellow lieutenants, Koroneva and Saban, were a block ahead, their machines' humanoid forms towering over most of the ruined buildings. Behind and to her left, First Lieutenant Alex Shawcross' Shadow Hawk was perched atop of the rubble of a former housing block and shop. The Terran-built machine, from Lang's factories on Caph, was one of the heaviest in the regiment, but its powerful XL engine gave it the speed to keep up with the rest of the lance. The autocannon perched on the shoulder gave the machine its classic outline with its eighty millimeter caliber barrel. Unlike the traditional Shadow Hawk, Shawcross' machine had a medium laser in each arm, the right arm bearing an extended range model and the left a pulse model. The head-mounted SRM was likewise gone, though the chest LRM remained. The model used its remaining weight savings to mount electronic equipment, an active probe and ECM system, to make it an effective heavy scout as well as a scout-killer.
Her role was to back up all three with her Lynx. The squat chicken-walker was a pride design of the Free March, incorporating regained Star League technologies like an XL engine, ferro-fibrous armor, and an endo-steel chassis. The colossal RussTech Coilgun that made up the Lynx's elbowless right arm could core most 'Mechs in just one to two good shots, and the torso and arm mounted Vickers-Armstrong lasers to the left of her cockpit and in her left arm were dangerous extended range models for any enemy light that drove to get within the Coilgun's minimum effective range.
 
Their lance moved into the no-man's-land at the rough junction of Marina, Bolanese, and Arcadian lines. The Marians were still scrambling to stabilize their lines and their lances, or "maniples", frequently crossed through here, cutting through the evacuation convoys with terrifying speed and brutality. Njoki tried not to think of the remains she'd seen earlier of an unlucky, unescorted convoy. The Marians left no survivors, though whether they dragged anyone off to slavery was something she would never know.
 
"Still no contacts, Lance Loo," Saban said, his Gienahese Hebrew accent thick in his English. "Looks like the sector is clear."
 
"Move east then, Square Hotel-Indigo-Twenty-Six," Shawcross replied.
 
The lance moved in line with those orders. They managed a block when Shawcross raised the right arm of his Shadow Hawk. "Wait. I've got something on the probe…" Four heat signatures formed on Njoki's thermal scan. "...Ambush!"
Njoki immediately juked her machine, and for good reason. From a pile of evident rubble, a Marian Centurion erupted, flanked by a Griffin and a pair of lighter Javelins. The latter two immediately hurled a salvo of SRMs into the air. Their impacts blew armor from the right arm and leg of Shawcross' machine and chewed into Saban's Jaeger. He returned fire with his Jaeger-2B's own SRM batteries. Most of his salvo hit. For a split second it seemed only armor would be taken, but the Javelin's torso blew open in a violent detonation of ammunition. I wonder if their armor was only patched and not intact?
 
The -1A Jaeger belonging to Koroneva twisted its torso to bear on the Griffin. The two machines fired simultaneous, exchanging particle bolts. Koroneva's lighter machine took the worst of the hit with her shoulder armor failing, allowing the bolt to go clear through and wreck the actuator. Her particle bolt left blackened, glowing-hot metal on otherwise intact armor plate.
 
Njoki's first instinct was to engage the Griffin, but the Centurion's autocannon fire quickly won her attention. Heavy autocannon model, not regular! The large bore weapon chewed armor and endo-steel from Shawcross' Shadow Hawk in a direct hit above the left hip. Shawcross retaliated with medium laser fire, a solid beam and a barrage of emerald darts blackening the armor plate over the Centurion's chest. Njoki drew in a breath, settled her crosshairs on the enemy machine's arm, and pulled her triggers.
 
The medium lasers struck first, emerald light slicing along the armor above the elbow. A moment later the Coilgun fired. She felt the recoil as magnetized coils accelerated a nickel-ferrous slug to supersonic velocity. An instant later the deadly heavy autocannon fell free of the Centurion, its right arm blown away at the elbow by her shot. That model only has LRMs in addition to the autocannon, it's too close! She turned her attention to the Griffin in time to see its missile launcher flare to life. Wait, those aren't LRMs! The missiles blasted away at Shawcross' 'Mech, most hitting the limbs or intact torso armor, but one took advantage of the armor loss to inflict serious damage within. Burning coolant spilled from the wound and the Shadow Hawk staggered.
 
A quick glance told her Saban's machine was also in trouble, taking the brunt of a second salvo from the surviving Javelin even as Koroneva's PPC blew one of its arms and half its torso off. Visible hip damage nearly toppled Saban but he held himself up.. He returned fire with his own missiles just as Njoki turned back.
 
The Griffin's PPC arm was already rising. As it came up the autocannon on the Shadow Hawk roared, its firing rate at full despite the jamming risk. Both lasers likewise fired. Armor melted or blew away with wreaths of sparks and flame for wounds, but all along the left side that housed no weapons to hit. The Griffin twisted back to present its PPC arm for another deadly shot. Njoki moved her crosshairs over it and fired once more.
 
To her chagrin, her lasers hadn't managed a solid targeting lock. Only the arm-mounted beam successfully cut through armor. After a moment power shifted and the coilgun thundered once more. The shot blew through the armor around the PPC and sent a cascade of sparks flowing from the resulting wound now visible on both sides of the limb. The Griffin fired a moment later. The impact of her shot threw off the Marian's arm and he missed.
 
 Once more the lasers and autocannon on the Shadow Hawk fired. This time, Shawcross fired with deadly intent, made clear as 80mm shells blasted through the head module's armor plate. It remained intact for only a moment before pulse laser fire played over the module, leaving it a blackened ruin. The 'Mech toppled.
 
"Bravo-Two, to your right!" Njoki heard the warning in time to twist her torso, preventing a salvo of half dozen SRMs from striking her main gun. Only one missile impacted on the coilgun, its warhead failing to do more than blacken the armor covering of the sensitive capacitors within the weapon. Two missiles corkscrewed past and three more took minor chunks of armor off her machine's hide.
 
She had no opportunity to return fire. Koroneva fired her PPC again. The Javelin's chest blew open from the impact. The pilot ejected just before their 'Mech toppled.
That left the Centurion. The pilot was desperately looking to retreat, but given the machine's speed versus their own, they'd never get out of minimal missile range. The Marian had gambled on getting to panic them with the heavy autocannon, and that hadn't paid off.
 
"Bravo Lance." The voice of Captain Rosenbaum, their company CO, boomed over the line. "Charlie-Two is asking for backup, roughly five klicks from your position. They have Marian 'Mechs pinned down but can't push in on their own."
 
"Roger, Company Lead. I'm sending someone now." Shawcross turned his battered Shadowhawk towards Njoki. "Bravo-Two, you and Bravo-Three move on, respond to the call. Keep moving and try to avoid trouble with the enemy. You're lead here."
 
"Roger, sir. Bravo-Three, with me!"
 
Koroneva obediently took up a position beside her. They darted off through the ruins, running over and around broken machines to the aid of their distant comrade. We keep running, Njoki thought. Don't let them ambush again. She verified her tac-comm links and called out, "Charlie-Two, this is Bravo-Two, friendlies en route, ETA about two minutes." She jump jets to hurdle over a ruined overpass, not wanting to lose time to going around.
 
"Roger, Bravo-Two. I've got small lance here. Verified a Stinger, an UrbanMech, and a Commando, sheltering over a hill here. I can't risk flushing them out by myself, and they're not budging."
"Stay still, we'll be there." She considered her options. Koroneva can jump in, her Mk. 5 PPC is extended range and doesn't have a minimum range problem. We flank to keep the range, she flushes them out, we take them down. Just have to get there…
 
Charlie-Two's voice kicked in again. "Relocating, backing off a bit…. movement! I've got movement! They're jumping in! Stinger's jumping… others coming in too! They're inside my coilgun range!"
 
No! "Fall back! We're almost there!"
 
"Jumping out of-" The report gave way to a cry of utter surprise.
Njoki swapped to magscan as they came up towards the hill. She could see the Lynx in mid-jump, flailing towards the ground, the Stinger literally dangling behind it with an arm stretched out. The Marian grabbed him! They grabbed him when he jumped! She brought her crosshairs over the UrbanMech, but her system refused to confirm a shooting lock. If she fired now she'd probably miss. Just a little closer…! she thought while seeing the range close.
 
But she was too late. The UrbanMech and Commando fired, sending laser, missile, and autocannon fire into her prone comrade. Flame and bits of blasted, molten metal erupted, joined by the smoke of burning coolant.
 
Njoki's crosshairs turned gold. Target lock and range confirmed. Her finger tensed over her index finger trigger.
The shot hit home on the low domed figure of the UrbanMech. It toppled without fanfare. Gyro hit. Her first impulse was to turn her weapon on the Commando, but the Stinger was rising and presented too tempting a target to pass up. Her finger tensed over the trigger once, twice, three times, and on the third the capacitor had finished its recharge. Her Lynx shuddered from the sonic boom formed by the slug's firing. The Stinger's chest blew open in a shower of coolant and steel. A second later the head module blew open as well and the command couch soared skyward. They ejected. Quick thinking.
 
The Commando turned to run. A sizzling particle bolt from Koroneva blasted through its right hip. The pilot couldn't keep the 'Mech straight with the sudden loss of myomer and the actuator. Their machine toppled over. After several seconds of running Koroneva took the air with jump jets. She fired a second shot. Once more smoke rose from the broken body of a BattleMech.
Njoki brought her Lynx up beside its shattered sibling. The hope she felt within turned to twisted dread at seeing the bloody spatter over the inside of the cockpit. Autocannon hit. The UrbanMech. Her mouth went dry and her chest constricted. It took her several seconds to remember her duty. "Bravo-Two to Company Lead. I'm sorry, Captain. They got to Charlie-Two before I could close the range." She thought back to the company roster. Charlie-Two was Second Lieutenant Andrew Henry of Togwotee. He'd been a militia prodigy that got sent to OCS and assigned to the Rangers. Captain Rosenbaum will have to write the letter. If only I'd been a few seconds faster…!
 
It was a long few seconds before a reply came. "Enemy status?"
 
"All down. One ejected, two did not."
 
"Confirmed. Battalion HQ is sending a recovery team out, assume defensive position and follow ROE. Alert me immediately if there are any new enemy movements."
 
"Roger that, Company Lead." Njoki turned her attention to her various scanner displays. "Bravo-Three, head on a swivel," she said. "We're on overwatch until relieved."
 
"Confirm that, Bravo-Three." The Jaeger moved to the hill and crouched. Njoki glanced over her display, noted her low ammunition supply, and settled in to wait for relief or action. I did what I could, she reminded herself. I did everything I could. And as true as it was, somehow, she knew she'd die believing she hadn't.
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=== Reviewing the campaign so far ===
Dropship AFMS Galatine
Arcadian Landing Zone
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The end of the second day of fighting satisfied Major General Armstrong. The Baroness of Briggs had her troops planetside without major losses and the Marian troops were just now starting to check their expansion. What forces had initially opposed them - mostly older and often beaten up machines - were falling back from significant casualties.
 
Still, she had concerns. The Fifth and Sixth Legions were only now starting to engage, spending most of the last day hotly engaged with Bolanese troops acting to tie them down. Once they were against the perimeter, it would be harder fighting to keep expanding that, even if they wished its expansion.
 
The campaign was, indeed, only yet beginning, and it was no time to get overconfident. The Marians had the edge in sheer combat experience, and it was up to the AFFM to overcome that. It simply remained to be seen if they would.
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DRASCTIS 2