The Baker 3 Clash

The Baker 3 Clash was the name given to a relatively small skirmish between the reconstituted Muspelheim's Vigil mercenary outfit and Clan Jade Falcon on the planet of Baker 3 as a part of the latter's invasion of that world. Though relatively small in scale, it provided invaluable information into Clan Mechs and battle tactics in the early Invasion era.

#### **6 August 3050 – 1451H Local Standard Time**

**Planet Baker 3 – Federated Commonwealth**

**"Albatross 1" Union-class DropShip – Vigil Landing Zone, Lowa Continent**

In the aftermath of the One-Day War on Tiegel, the Muspelheim’s Vigil was painstakingly reconstituted. Some of the details of what had happened there would never come out, but the De Facto state of affairs was deemed acceptable by the LIC, and Hannah Faust was retained to the post of interim command of the Vigil. It was deemed that her ability to keep the remnants of the group together and successfully enact decisive action in the heat of the moment, coupled with her great talent at piloting and gunnery, could tentatively be a substitute to the long experience she lacked and would otherwise generally be a requirement.

Reinforced with a fresh wave of new and young agents that were deemed promising, yet equally untested, the Vigil had been brought back to nominal strength in 3045 and had spent the next four years and a half gathering up to date intelligence about the Draconis Combine and Free Worlds League under their mercenary cover. The constant fighting would retroactively prove instrumental as a crucible to test and harden these new agents against the tide that was about to crash on all of the Inner Sphere.

Normally, the Vigil received broad directives about their intelligence gathering goals and targets, and the field commander had full discretionary liberty in how to go about achieving those results, as long as they were met with no excessive material losses or bad press. Rarely did the high command directly intervene with specific orders, but the month of May 3050 – nearly 5 years day for day after they set off – the Muspellheim’s Vigil was abruptly recalled and the with the utmost of urgency, insisting to avoid any and all distractions along the way, no matter how tempting of an opportunity.

In March, nearly three dozen borderland worlds from the Commonwealth, Combine and Rasalhague Republic had suddenly gone dark to an unknown and mysterious invader, with scattered survivors bringing back tales of never-seen before Mechs with unbelievably advanced weapon systems and electronics and piloted by exceptionally skilled warriors. Among the worlds lost were, incidentally, the extremely fortified and well defended Tiegel IV, which spoke volumes to prove the survivors were not exaggerating from hysteria.

By May, a second wave of attack that would snatch a further two dozen worlds was underway, and the Houses were clearly panicking. Even the Commonwealth and the Combine agreed to a temporary truce and pulled their best units away from their common border. It was in that chaos that the Vigil was recalled from the western provinces of the Combine to do as they should, and gather information on these invaders by -any- means necessary, and as quickly as possible.

When they arrived in late June a yet third wave was underway, but the worlds targeted were only too lightly defended by militia units, and trying to reinforce them directly would be suicidal for the relatively small ‘mercenary’ outfit. Arriving in what would later become known as the Jade Falcon invasion corridor, the members of the Vigil began to pour over every little bit of information gleamed back from the survivors of previous ‘waves’, to report a comprehensive picture and prepare their own battle plans accordingly.

In mid-July, the Vigil was ordered by Commonwealth high command to deploy on Baker 3 – a relatively peaceful world that, they believed, would not be targeted immediately as there was a bit of a buffer and it lacked strategic assets – and to stand by. They were to prepare to take part in a major operation being currently planned and to ensure their men and equipment were as ready as could be before the Go signal was given. Alas, both of these hopes would be dashed one after the other.

\* \* \*

Baker 3 was, by large, considered a resort world. Its lush forests and hot springs were somewhat famous and it was a favorite vacation spot for the wealthy in that sector of space. Many could have seen assignment to such a world as a vacation as well, being allowed to simply loiter and relax in such peaceful and bewitching nature, but it was not the case of the Vigil’s agents. It was simply impossible to so much as think of slacking off and relaxing when such a terrible enemy was not so much ‘at the gates’ than they had smashed through the gates and were running amok just a few worlds away.

It was in this strange contrasting juxtaposition between the natural beauty of the planet around them and the overbearing tension of the events at large that Faust was carefully studying the reports for an Xth time alongside several other members of the Vigil who weren’t currently busy maintaining their machines or practicing outside the DropShips, trying to see if they couldn’t divine some sort of new clue or realization that had eluded them up to this point.

So engrossed were they in the analysis – and had been for days – that Faust had only scarcely interacted with the local militia, giving them a brief primer on the big lines of what they knew so far about this new invader and how they fought. It had failed to impress that though these invaders seemed to be obsessed with following some strange code of honorable combat, their reaction upon perceived breaches of honor was more than violent.

Yet how could they be blamed for it? The information was badly fragmented, and with every new story they had to carefully inspect whether it was true, exaggerated, a complete fabrication to save face, or something in-between. They had to try and compare reports from multiple independent sources to try to find the overlapping correlations as truth. Worse, they were rushed for time, and it seemed as if the invaders were not a consistent homogeneous force, but themselves also fragmented between four ‘Clans’ each with its own traditions and preferences, and even within individual clans, not all Commanders acted according to the same principles. It was not only a mess, but a mess forever in motion.

And things were just about to get messier. “It’s almost as if they’re doing this on purpose to have us running circles around their S.O.Ps.” Faust eventually let out with frustration as she put back down the file she’d been reading yet again. “But the worst part is that it’s obvious that they don’t, and they’re just being weird.” She let out a sigh before reaching for a thermos of cold water and leaning back in her seat on the DropShip’s small command room.

“It could always be worse. They could be Aliens, as some of the earliest reports suggested.” Lukas chipped in calmly, bringing one finger to his neatly trimmed mustache. It almost sounded like a joke, but it was not. The very first reports genuinely included such far-fetched ideas, because of just how technologically superior the invader had proved to be. By now it was obvious that they were simply humans, but where had they come from, and how had they access to such technology? For now these questions remained woefully unanswered. “Or they could be Kuritans.”

Laughter rang out in the small, gray and drab room, the idea that Kuritans were literally worse than aliens helping lighten the mood at least a little bit. Given the Combine’s propensity for oppressive abuse of occupied populations, this wasn’t even -entirely- a joke. This, of course, was something that Faust had quite vivid first experience with during the 3039 war, after all. “Well I would love for Kuritans to be attacking themselves but unfortunately they’re in our backyard too.” She mused. Indeed, the Combine had suffered from the Invasion almost as much as the Commonwealth.

“Either way, we’re short on time. Whoever these guys are, they’ve been sticking to a timetable that would probably make high command jack off if they weren’t on the receiving end of it.” McFarlane interjected next. “I don’t think we’re going to be getting anything new from just reading these old reports a thousandth time.” He objected with a gruff groan. “We’re wasting precious time, and I’d bet a thousand C-bills that we’re running out of it.”

Alistair McFarlane was a somewhat brutish man. Ill-tempered and naturally rebellious, he was nonetheless very capable and extremely dedicated to whatever cause he happened to be supporting at any given time. A Skye ‘patriot’ with auburn hair and blue eyes, he had initially strongly opposed Hannah’s grab of the mantle of leadership during the One-Day War, but had eventually come around during the subsequent years as her actions in the field earned her his begrudging respect.

Unfortunately for them all, McFarlane’s nervous impatience would prove highly prophetic. “What the hell, Unidentified DropShips in high atmosphere!” Came the voice of a Mechwarrior not at the table, but standing up next to the DropShip crew and sensor terminal. The warning needed no more clarifications. The fact that no emergence signature had been detected and that the vessels were not sussed out until they were practically on top of them, ready for a landing, left no room for doubt. It was them.

This Mechwarrior was Wilhelm Schreiber. In his early twenties, blond, with a trimmed beard and green eyes, he was one of those new Agents that had recently been assigned to the Vigil to replace combat losses. He was a gregarious man, all the opposite of McFarlane’s feisty temper, but he too was one of those who Faust had kept an eye on, as he was showing much promise as a pilot, and his carefree socialite facade hid some actual caution and thoughtfulness when he needed to be.

Hannah quickly leaped to her feet and reached for the communication terminal on the Dropship controls. “Kommandant Faust to all Companies, strap in and reactors warm. We have Clanners in-bound. Repeat, Clanners in-bound. Will recontact when we have more information about their numbers and intentions, over.” This was going to be a difficult situation from all angles and her mind was racing trying to find solutions.

So far, the sensors were only detecting a few DropShips, but even if they managed to have even numbers – which was no guarantee given more could simply have gone undetected – the invaders’ overwhelming advantage in technological sophistication and apparent training made a straight confrontation practically guaranteed to end in complete defeat. The pilots of the Vigil were among the upper level of what the Inner Sphere had to offer, and so were their machines, but that would just not be enough.

As to the idea of setting ambushes, time was far too short, and they lacked the in-depth knowledge of the local terrain that could allow them to make use of it to their advantage. Any trap they could try to set up would be flimsy at best, and not worth the risks. If it failed, the wrath visited upon them would leave no survivors, and the chances of success were low. No, this, too, was a sure path to annihilation. Faust turned back towards her officers, and her black eyes set down on the scattered files upon the table.

There just might be a way after all, if not to turn things around, then at the very least to avoid the unit being wiped out. It would be a tricky gambit, with no guarantees and high personal risk, but it was also the least terrible of the options at hand, with the best theoretical chances. It was time to put to the test what they’d learned, and play by the enemy’s book...

**\* \* \***

“They’re not responding.” Dresner noted with a tone heavy in implications. After the members of the Vigil had geared up and prepared to set out, the invaders made a wide hail, issuing their ‘battle challenge’ they had read scarcely about. According to the preliminary data, it was the custom of these strange ‘Clans’ to announce their intent of conquest boldly and to arrange a straightforward battle between representatives – or the totality thereof – of their respective fighting forces.

The concept was a strange one, and already reports had came in of some militias and mercenary outfits managing to exploit those customs of theirs to gain an advantage, but from what the Vigil was able to read, it had always been short-lived and Pyrrhic. Short-lived victories and advantages were nullified by a response with overwhelming firepower. Deceit beget spite. And now the local militia, which was in all likelihood ignoring their hails on purpose, was almost certainly attempting to prepare traps and ambushes of its own.

Which, naturally would expedite the foregone conclusion. “Damnit, this might screw everything.” Faust let out between grit teeth. The situation was a bit of an awkward one for the Vigil as well. They were far better equipped than the militia to answer the Clans’ challenge, but under their guise of a mercenary outfit, they had no true legal authority to do so. The world did not belong to them, and they were no official representatives in any open capacity.

Yet the silence of the militia was going to jeopardize their plan and very survival. “This is Kommandant Hannah Faust of the Muspelheim’s Vigil.” The raven-haired captain eventually responded on the open frequency. “We are an independent unit roughly the strength of a reinforced battalion.” She spoke with all the assurance that she could, but she was traipsing on largely unknown territory, and there was no telling how the foe would react. If at all.

It almost seemed as if they would be ignored in turn, when a response came in turn. “I was starting to wonder if you would hide like frightened squirrels.” The man had identified himself by rank earlier, but Hannah had no real information as to what the rank actually meant outside of its vague historical connotations from old Terra. ‘Khan’ was a word that certainly survived through history… “Have you finally found your courage as warriors?”

It sounded like provocations, but that was only half truth. “There was some internal confusion. We are not the official defenders of this world, but if we are the only ones to answer your challenge then so be it, we will do what we must.” Faust explained. Everything that she had read thus far aligned to say that the most transparent she was, the lesser the chances of these ‘Clanners’ going berserk and killing everyone.

“A Warrior must sometimes step up to the task when no one else will.” The disembodied voice of the apparent leader of the invasion forces responded in a manner that was almost… emphatic? Hannah could practically feel him nod solemnly as he spoke. Moreover… wasn’t that a sentiment that brought her back… “Do you bid all your forces to this challenge?” He then asked in a manner far more predatory, as if a hunter trying to corner prey or goad it into making a mistake, and Faust saw it for what it was.

But had she not poured over all the data, she might have made the mistake. “No. I have heard that you and your ‘Clans’ value winning with the smallest possible force, correct me if I am wrong?” Faust then asked. She was gambling for the survival of the rest of her unit, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take this opportunity to try to confirm and expand the data. Even if she were to die here, as long as the plan worked, the others would be able to bring back a wealth of information.

A short moment of silence followed as the Clanner had not expected this query. “You heard correctly. To win with the smallest amount of forces is the mark of the superior Warrior. When we outmatch several of our foes, we prove our skills. These traditions of ours are what allow us to resolve conflicts with very little destruction compared to you treacherous Spheroid barbarians.” The man spoke with a venom that suggested great, deep and personal resentment, but Faust could not for her life figure out where would it come from. Were they not from some deep corner of the Periphery?

That mystery could wait, though. This conversation was going exactly where she wanted it to go. “Good, then – and pardon my ignorance of the specific rules of your customs – I offer this: The Muspelheim’s Vigil will ‘bid’ one of its four Companies of Mechs, Twelve under our current organization system. I think that is roughly equivalent to…” She made an effort to recall. “..Two Stars of your own system?” With every single power in the Inner Sphere working off 4-Mech Lances, the invaders’ use of a Base-5 system created much confusion.

Moreover, working in the dark as she were. Hannah did not know any of the dozen faux pas she could accidentally trip here. This entire time, her goal had been to allow as many of her subordinates to safely escape the effective Clan ‘ambush’ by playing by their rules and ‘bidding’ as little a force as possible, but she had no idea if too small a ‘bid’ would anger them and drop off ‘negotiations’. As such, she had to be conservative, cautious, and above all respectful. It was always better to come across as a naive idiot than a deceitful scumbag.

“Aff.” The wary officer quirked a brow at the unfamiliar word, mentally noting it down and guessing it to be an affirmative response of some kind. “What battlefield do you choose to answer our challenge?” It was then Faust’s turn to be taken aback. She had not expected to be able to pick the site of the battle, and this was certainly a wasted opportunity. In other circumstances, the choice of the battlefield could be extremely advantageous, but this time it was less so.

Even had she not ruled out traps and ambushes, there would have been no time to prepare one, and since the Vigil had only somewhat recently arrived on Baker 3, they did not yet have a good knowledge of the lay of the land which could otherwise have been used to pick a highly favorable terrain. Faust would have to improvise on this one, and to think quickly too. She likely was on a clock of some sort, and she had no clue how long she could have to decide.

“I suppose the woodlands near our current location should make for a good enough site. At far enough a distance from the DropShips that they couldn’t be used to interfere in any way of course.” Hannah eventually settled on a location and quickly moved into try and preemptively defuse any suspicion that might have arisen from the hastily chosen battlefield. The relatively long and heavy silence that followed made her worry if she’d gone too far trying to accommodate and placate, and ended up coming across – quite ironically – as suspicious or insulting as a result.

The choice, hasty had it been, was made for two major reasons. The first was that Hannah hoped the difficult woodland terrain would help mitigate some of the invaders’ range advantage, but that wasn’t a guarantee with how sophisticated their electronics were touted to be, and it could be a problem for some of their own kits. The second was that it would make for a relatively quick exit back to the DropShips in case the ‘Clanners’ decided to change their minds for one reason or another.

“Then so it shall be. One Binary of our Warriors against a Company of your worthiest.” Another unfamiliar term, quickly mentally jotted down. “Well bargained and done.” This next sentence had the more solemn tone that cued Hannah to its ritualistic nature, and that a response of the sort was expected. “And I will see to it to test you personally.” The man then added, back to his more predatory tone.

“Well bargained and done.” Faust mirrored, though she was starting to ask herself what exactly she’d gotten herself into. To play into the Clanners’ game to this extent was the only way she could save most of her men, but what kind of unseen costs or complications would it have? She could not even imagine it all…

#### **6 August 3050 – 1512H Local Standard Time**

**Planet Baker 3 – Federated Commonwealth**

**8 kilometers from the Vigil’s Landing Zone – Lowa Continent**

An uneasy air washed over Alpha Company as they watched the DropShips descend so very close to their own landing site. The machines were uncanny as they had come close enough to be scanned. They shared many characteristics and design elements with the Union-class vessels the Vigil was using, but with enough things altered or switched around that they were familiar yet somehow alien at the same time. This reinforced the eerie appearance of the Clanners themselves; familiar, yet alien. Where had they come from really? How did they have such advanced technology the Houses could only dream of?

The answers to these questions would not come anytime soon, as for now, the members of the Vigil would be fighting an uphill battle for their very survival, and those who were to take part in the ‘challenge’ had every right to feel as if the sacrificial lambs. They were, effectively, the rear-guard being sacrificed for the rest of the battalion as their chances of victory were slim to none. Yet, Faust was still leading the company, not backing down and prepared to pay whatever cost may, though she had no intention to fight to the bitter end if unnecessary.

Tense silence endured for a moment longer as the DropShips touched down and started to unload their cargo. “There’s more of them than they agreed to. Do you think they’re going to renege on their challenge thing and just charge us with everything they have while we’re split?” McFarlane noted with more anger than worry, already fully expecting the betrayal. “Maybe we should double back and meet up with the other companies, lure them to the DropShips’ gun range.”

“Let’s not jump the gun here. Maybe they’re just keeping reserves close because they don’t trust us and expect us to pull some shit ourselves.” Hannah responded calmly. Indeed, if this had been anyone else, she’d never have trusted a challenge from an enemy. The only reason she considered that entire gamble seriously to begin with was because the reports were adamant about these ‘Clans’ fixation on honorable combat. A fixation which had no doubt been exploited at least a couple time in the previous ‘waves’. She’d be wary in their shoes too, but then again when wasn’t she?

“Technically aren’t we ‘pulling some shit’.” Yes, yes they were, but just not in the way she meant, and not in the way that would provoke an all out response. “Ah well, I bet I can take down more of them than you before they inevitably kill us.” Hannah could practically see McFarlane’s competitive, manic grin even though the feed was audio only. By now she knew the Scott as the most aggressive among their numbers, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a way to cope with the stress.

“Are you regretting being part of the ‘bid’?” She asked calmly, gauging the red-hair’s reaction as well as one might without seeing their faces or body language. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about the coming fight either, and she couldn’t blame any other members of Alpha Company if they’d have rather stepped back and left their ‘spot’ in the ‘bid’ be taken by someone else, but they were the best, and therefore had the highest chance of survival, for whatever that would count.

Alastair shook his head silently before responding “Hell no!” Faust blinked once with surprise, not having expected such a strong negative… or should it be a positive, in this context? “We’re all going to die one day, and dying holding off some monsters with ridiculously lethal war machines so that others get to live another day? That’s one hell of a way to go. Much worse ways to die I reckon, so this is a good one.” He concluded with a laugh.

Hannah remained silent at that for a few seconds, as she needed a moment to process it. She’d expected some kind of resentment from the man who used to hate her, but what she got instead was dogged determination and resolve. It was kind of inspiring, quite frankly, and it brought the faintest hint of a smile to her lip. The others might also feel similarly, or at least she’d hoped as much. Up to this point, Faust had been somewhat afraid of the coming fight because she was painfully aware of how outmatched they were, but now she was getting fired up too.

“Hah. I’m glad you stayed on with us.” She let out in the end, taking a slow, deep and quiet breath as she closed her hands into fists and opened them back a few times to avoid getting cramps from being too tense at the controls of her Mech. The Scott was right, there was no point in overthinking it all. The best they could do was fight like mad bastards and give it their all. She’d never been the type for spirituality or religion, but if she had, this would be the time one might say ‘it’s in God’s hands now’.

“So dramatic when you do not need to be.” Lukas eventually chipped in with a small sigh, his tone making it obvious he had something to say that wasn’t just that. “You do realize these aren’t Kuritans or Capellans right? They probably won’t shoot at an ejection seat, that is probably some flavor of cowardly or dishonorable somewhere in their codes and traditions.” The analytical man was going on a limb here, and he could have been wrong, but that was, from his point of view, the single most logical conclusion one could – and should – come to.

Still, the man was right, but there was a balance to be struck. Ejecting too quickly would no doubt be perceived as ‘cowardly’ from their end as well and might be treated accordingly. It was, and should be, the last resort option, but it was an option nonetheless. If these invaders proved themselves to match their words with actions, this -might- not be as bad as it first seemed. They -did- claim their traditions were about minimizing ‘excessive destruction’ after all…

Any further chatter from the Vigil’s awaiting MechWarriors was cut short as glimpses of the Clans’ own warmachines began to appear through the foliage of the dense woodlands, silently crushing and bulldozing through branches and other obstacles in their way as they approached. The moment of truth was nearing, and no one really knew how they were supposed to react. “Hold steady. If they don’t shoot first let them come as close as they will.” Faust instructed, the fleeting levity from earlier now gone and buried, replaced by only the serious of a Warrior.

The sightings grew more and more as the Hostiles started to light up on sensors one after another in close succession. Tension was thick, with every pilot ready to set the throttle to full and go weapons hot at the first sign of attack, yet, almost disturbingly so, there was none. When new Contacts stopped appearing, one thing was made patently obvious: There was ten, just as they’d agreed, and not a single Mech more. Were they for real, or were the others in ambush not far away? With sensor ranges this low they could have easily circumvented the area to cut off any escape route…

“I am Star Commander Nadya Roshak of Clan Jade Falcon, piloting the Gargoyle.” The heavy silence was suddenly broken by the formal introduction of one the invaders, shortly followed by an even more formal and esoteric statement. “I Hereby invoke the ritual of Zellbrigen and challenge the pilot of the Leviathan at the front of the formation. Let none interfere.” Though she had no knowledge of the specific rules and expectations of this ‘Zellbrigen’ thing, one thing was at least transparently clear, Faust had been challenged to a duel.

Similar proclamations followed quickly after the first, with every one of the ‘Clan’ pilots before them hailing out one of the Vigil’s in turn and challenging them to their own duels. Before long, all of the ‘Falcon’ Mechs had called out their targets, though since there were only 10 of them to 12 of theirs, this left two of the Vigil’s Mechs in reserve. By the luck of the draw, it would happen to be Lukas Dresner’s and his Longbow, as well as Wilhelm Schreiber and his Lancelot. With all said and done, mayhem began.

#### **6 August 3050 – 1521H Local Standard Time**

**Planet Baker 3 – Federated Commonwealth**

**8 kilometers from the Vigil’s Landing Zone – Lowa Continent**

The Mech now facing Hannah's Leviathan was one of these 'unknown' designs that had never been seen before in the Inner Sphere until the Invasion. The preliminary salvaged data tagged it with the code name 'Man O'War', but already something was off. The battle computer data suggested it should be carrying a pair of LBX-5s and another pair of SRM-6s, but that was clearly not correct as she could visually identify a form of AC-20 and a cluster of medium lasers. The loadout was much closer to the configuration of an Atlas, and she had fought many of those by now, but the individual weapons were expected to vastly outperform their standard counterparts.

She almost wanted to laugh. The woodlands had been chosen to negate the enemy's expected range advantage, yet now it seemed she faced a Mech optimized for close-range brawling, as if they'd been able to refit in the short time between the challenge had been issued, and the landing itself. By all standard metrics this should have been utterly impossible. Refitting a BattleMech between its variants was an extensive and time-consuming factory-level job. Yet, the 'Clans' had showed they had technology far in excess of their own, so just maybe...

Like that, the entire situation had been flipped on its head before the first shot had even been fired. Normally, Hannah would have advanced forth to bring in her own medium lasers to bear, but in this situation it seemed rather ill-advised, and now she needed to be the one keeping distance, which wouldn't be easy with a slow Assault Mech like the Leviathan and its overburdened engine, but she could at least rely on its rugged durability, and her own skill. As Hannah slowly set her throttle back and zero'd her twin Gauss Rifles, her eyes widened as the Assault Mech before her started running at the speed of a solid Medium.

Yet, Faust did not panic. She kept steady and prioritized. There was no way she could keep this monster at a distance, especially not with needing to split her focus between forward and rear cameras. Unlike her Leviathan, this 'Man O'War' – Or Gargoyle she supposed – 's weapon systems were neatly concentrated in the arms. Frankly, she had no desire to find out the hard way what kind of firepower a Clan AC-20 could deliver, and so she focused on it like a shark.

It wasn't an easy shot, especially not against such a fast-moving target in a terrain full of branches and trees, and it became obvious her opponent hadn't expected the 'spheroid Barbarian' to be skilled enough to pull it off when the pair of Gauss slugs rammed straight in, smashing armor around the elbow actuator and starting a fire in the myomer muscles of the behemoth's mechanical bicep. "Hmf, seems you are a lucky one but do not expect it to last." 'Roshak' hailed, clearly angered and speaking through gritted teeth.

"I'll make sure to show you otherwise." Faust responded with a contrastingly cold calm as she maneuvered through the forest. Trying to anger an opponent into making a mistake was a tactic that was practically second nature to her. She needed not even think about it to do it, and it would prove wise. The Gargoyle attempted to fire its Auto-cannon, likely trying to make use of the ammunition before the fire risked a cook-off, but between the slightly damaged actuator and the relatively long range, the round simply missed. Then the -second- came, smashing right through a tree as if it wasn't even there and clipping the Leviathan's side torso. It inflicted little real damage, but the psychological damage was significant. An AC-20 was deadly enough as it were, but one that could fire -twice-?

Clearly she'd made the right choice by focusing on trying to take it out of the fight quickly, but Hannah was far from done with her unpleasant surprises. Roshak shifted their Mech to protect the wounded arm and fire with the laser array in the opposite arm next. She'd read the reports about the unbelievable ranges of Clan weapon systems, but reading about it and experiencing it were two different things, and Hannah had not expected such an array to be effective at roughly twice the normal range. Two lasers fell by the wayside, one was intercepted by a tree trunk, but the remaining three hit dead on, with a hit on the upper left leg, another on the lower left torso, and the last center.

If there had been any doubts left lingering in Faust's mind about the accuracy of the reports she'd read that so many wished to dismiss as exaggerations and hysteria, they were wiped clean in this one moment. She was piloting one of the best Mechs she'd known of, and this -thing- before her was both outgunning her and doing so whilst running like a bat out of hell. Still, Faust held steady. The years of fighting comparatively weak foes had not made her forget her humbling encounters, and they had not dulled her skills.

\* \* \*

In the meantime, Alistair McFarlane also faced an imposing Assault Mech of unknown design. Codenamed 'Gladiator' according to the preliminary data in his battle computer, it seemed to carry a very straightforward equipment made up of one Gauss rifle and two Large Lasers. For an Inner Sphere Mech of its tonnage, that would be reasonable, but McFarlane couldn't help but feel as if this was somehow a little bit under-gunned for a Mech of the Clans, and he suspected it had a few tricks not immediately obvious up its sleeves.

"Do not disappoint me. I have high expectations from one who pilots the signature Mech of the legendary Watch." His opponent – another of these 'Star Commanders' - hailed suddenly and with a tone that somehow held a contradictory mix of disdain and thinly-veiled excitation that he frankly could not be assed to try to psych-analyze. McFarlane wasn't Faust, and he did not care for such things. The battlefield needed not be complicated, and he believed one could get a much better read for someone's personality by fighting them anyway.

"That's my line. I'm going to enjoy picking apart the pieces of that weird Mech of yours after I blow it up." Alistair rebuked with his own manic aggression as he set his Highlander in motion. His foe had an all-long-range armament, while his was mixed, which put him at a disadvantage no matter which range he tried to engage in. He would need to leverage every bit of his skill and brazen nature to pull through, and he opened the dance with a first volley from his own Gauss Rifle and LRM-20.

Unlike Faust, McFarlane advanced, and unlike her, he focused his whole attention on the large Mech's equally large center torso section. His opponent twisted his machine's torso to the left, but was only able to cover against the missiles, not having reacted quickly enough to negate the lightning-fast Gauss slug. "Kh, Barbarian. Your leader might seem wise but you're just as bloodthirsty and savage as the rest." The Gladiator's pilot barked back, emphasizing his words with an Alpha Strike as soon his Mech's torso was back into alignment.

Alistair had seen the rebuke coming though, both proverbially and literally, and he activated his Highlander's jump jets with a mini hop. Of the paired Large Lasers, one hit his left leg while the other clipped, and the Gauss Slug hit the right. Showcasing great skill, Alistair managed to keep stable despite the momentum and landed relatively gracefully. The damage to his legs were an acceptable trade-off given how rarely they were targeted and how reinforced and sturdy a Highlander's legs naturally were.

Upon landing – quite close at that – and crushing nearby trees, McFarlane unleashed a tandem strike of his SRMs and medium lasers, but also of his words. "Hah, don't give me that bullshit! I know you 'Clanner' guys love a good fight as much as I do. If you didn't you wouldn't have come blitzing through the Inner Sphere challenging everything that moves to a fight." His riposte landed, missiles, lasers and words, and the Gladiator recoiled slightly.

Despite his bellicose and impatient nature, McFarlane was still an elite agent. He'd read and memorized every word of the reports he'd so casually dismissed earlier, and he was as adept as Faust when it came to getting under an opponent's skin mid-fight. "You dare to compare us? Your ignorance is staggering." The Gladiator's pilot wanted to crush the offending 'mercenary' before him, but his weapons were still reloading, and he was the one finding himself backing off despite himself.

**\* \* \***

Faust, on her end, had an issue. The rapidly closing in 'Gargoyle' had enough firepower to quickly cut apart even such a mighty Mech as her Leviathan. This array of enhanced medium lasers was an issue, and a less savvy pilot might have tried to make lightning strike twice and snipe the right arm again as she'd done the left to try and neutralize that threat. To even try would have been to crucially under-estimate the skill of the 'Clan' foe she faced. Sure, Faust had been able to land it once before, but it was precisely because of that fact that she knew her opponent would be actively on the lookout for that exact maneuver. One-trick ponies didn't last long against real opponents.

Thankfully, the brutish tactic of the Star commander worked in her favor on at least one angle, and it was that it put the Gargoyle in range of her own, less powerful and less accurate but nonetheless respectable and more numerous medium lasers. As her Leviathan weathered another salvo from that array, Hannah held her fire for a second, then unloaded the Gauss Rifles slightly off center mass just when she spotted that monstrous AC-20 starting to move. The Momentum of the impacts, while only damaging armor, threw off Roshak's aim at a critical moment, and the Auto-cannon shells ended smashing more trees instead of the center of her own Mech.

But that wasn't all she had lined up. The Leviathan was an ancient design that made its name in the galaxy-shattering conflict that was the Amaris Civil War, and to simply dismiss it as a non-threat due to being an old design with inferior weapon systems was a terrible mistake born of arrogance. Barely had Roshak recovered from the kinetic impact of the Gauss slugs and re-centered her Mech, Hannah's Leviathan unleashed its own pair of quad medium laser arrays, spearing into the Gargoyle's torso and flaming left arm like a volley of javelins, dismembering the latter as the Ultra AC-20 fell heavily to the ground. One problem solved, one more to go.

"You are steadier than I thought." Roshak accompanied her reluctant acknowledgment with a volley of her own lasers which streaked across Hannah's Mech with similarly damaging result, the Gargoyle switching gears as it no longer had any reason to want to get closer, quite the contrary. "I suppose I expected anyone piloting one of the Usurper's behemoths would be a coward unable to fight a battle against a real opponent."

"The what now?" That second statement, which sounded as if it were a provocation, but had actually not been intended as one, confused Faust far more than anything else. She had to dig far back to her days at the Sanglamore academy to have a clue what the 'Clanner' was saying, and frankly she could not afford to get distracted like that in the middle of a fight against such a savage opponent. She vaguely recalled the name, but not the association. Ultimately, Faust shook it off entirely.

"Fool, you do not even know your own history?" The Star Commander retorted as her Gargoyle shifted from charge to a defensive posture, skirting and strafing around the Leviathan to exploit its higher speed while being mindful of all the damage it had taken. "Maybe I should claim you a bondsman and rectify that." The next salvo was not as accurate, with half of the lasers falling short or being intercepted by trees again.

Had the circumstances been different, Faust would have been quite interested in hearing more about what yet another unfamiliar term was supposed to mean, but as it were, this was just yet another distraction she could not afford, filled at the back of her mind for later investigation. Though it was true the Gargoyle was much faster than her Leviathan, the unusual format of these duel fights meant that Faust could afford to remain mostly into place, focusing her speed into traverse and keeping her more heavily armored front at the enemy at all time.

A few more exchanges of lasers followed, spearing through foliage and branches that was briefly consumed in flash fire without being stopped. By now, the sheer thermal energy of so many laser and particle weapons, plus missile blasts and plumes, being fired across the woodlands by the many duel participants had started several small fires that would soon enough start to spread. Before long, the twin ghostly spirals of Gauss rifles brought, to no small amount of surprise on both sides, the Gargoyle down in its tracks.

**\* \* \***

This burgeoning fire was perfectly fine in McFarlane's eyes. "You really shouldn't be blaming me for your own clumsy piloting." He snarked as his Highlander was hot in pursuit of the slightly larger and nominally better armed Gladiator, brazenly pushing forward in a somewhat reversed fashion of Faust's own duel. Unlike Roshak however, the pilot of the Gladiator seemed to be having a harder time handling being forced in such relatively close quarters.

This close, the paired Large Lasers could not miss, and shaved off significant thickness of armor on the Highlander's torso, while the Gauss hit the right shoulder.. but not fast enough to throw off McFarlane's aim, as his own Gauss roared just a fraction of a second earlier, hammering away with yet another salvo of short-range missiles and medium lasers dead center. The larger LRM battery might have done the trick and finished the job right there and then, as the Gladiator's center torso armor was rapidly being burned off, but McFarlane was just a little too close, and the launch systems would not fire.

Alistair's earlier hunch that the Gladiator held many secrets, however, turned out spot on. The Highlander had, at the time of its introduction, been one of the heaviest Mechs fitted with jump jets in existence, and it had used it to frightening effect. In the present though, this unknown Clan Mech made a very sudden and effective demonstration that it could jump faster and farther than the venerable Highlander as it proceeded to do just that.

The Gladiator soared straight above, exhaust flames practically brushing the other Mech's cockpit as Alistair tried to urgently brake and turn around. The Clan Mech was faster however, and he unleashed another alpha strike on the over-extended highlander, managing to spear through its back armor with a Large Laser and destroying the already weakened arm carrying the Gauss Rifle. Small mercy was it that the capacitors did not detonate outright.

This was a major setback, as the Highlander's Gauss Rifle was its most reliable and versatile weapon, providing McFarlane with consistent firepower at all ranges. Tough he was confident that the loss would not prevent him from defeating his current foe, he was still aware enough to realize it would be far more significant on any subsequent engagements. This shouldn't be like the average mercenary job where the enemy had considerable numerical superiority though, so he wasn't too worried. "Hah, not bad, not bad at all. You guys sure are living up to the hype!"

"Smiling cheerfully in the face of your imminent defeat? I guess you are not completely hopeless." The Gladiator's pilot jousted back, his voice sounding uncannily confident despite the damage he'd himself taken, and this tipped off McFarlane that he wasn't done with this mysterious Mech's surprises. Right like clockwork, the Gladiator began to sprint at unbelievable speed for its sheer mass, making a dash for the Highlander's mauled right flank, which was effectively weaponless and wide open.

Alistair knew that his foe was buying time because their weapons were still reloading, but his missile launchers were ready. This would be one of his trickiest shots yet. The Gladiator quickly closing in would get into the LRM's minimum range any second now, he had no time to acquire a lock, and to fire unguided would just fall short with the missiles missing in the unnaturally rapidly moving Assault Mech's wake, leaving him truly wide open for a finishing salvo.

But he still had his own jump jets to rely on, and while the Gladiator was moving to his right flank, Alistair turned about and blasted off backwards in the opposite direction, quickly creating the necessary space between him and his foe and forcing him to react. He did not even wait to land, leading ever so slightly ahead of the now slowing down Clan Mech and unloading the entire LRM battery at the zenith of his jump, which thundered down with great surprise. The hail of missiles found gaps in the armor he'd battered earlier, and containment failure plasma jets began to ripple out. "Hah, strike one 'invincible' Clanner!"

As McFarlane landed and Faust took a breather from her own duel, they took inventory of what had happened around them while they were focused on their respective opponents. Though they had managed to perform admirably in their own duels, the rest of the Company had not fared as well, and Faust was aghast to see the result. Out of ten duels, only their two had been victories, the remaining had been eight losses evenly split between ejections and dead pilots. They had started at 12 versus 10, and now there were 4 versus 8 left.

"Are you getting cold feet now, Schreiber?" Lukas, who had the 'fortune' of being left out of the initial wave of duel, addressed the other 'spare' pilot next to him. They had seen just about everything that had happened from an observer's point of view, and he'd taken stock of just about every trick displayed in each and every duel. If he managed to survive today, he would have many, many things to teach others. Of course, the information would come handy much sooner.

"It's... different reading it from a report, and seeing it for yourself." Wilhelm answered, echoing his comrades' own unspoken sentiments earlier. The young agent struggled to maintain his cool before the sheer display he'd just witnessed, but he managed, if barely, and took a deep breath to force himself to calm down. "It almost feels surreal that Kommandant Faust and Hauptmann McFarlane managed to win their own duels..." He added, looking out at the smoking wrecks through his cockpit's glass windows.

Who could have blamed him for being so shaken in his confidence? The Vigil had counted among the very best and brightest that the Commonwealth could muster, and Alpha Company was the most skilled among the Vigil, yet it had been nearly annihilated in a matter of minutes. The Company had effectively taken 80% casualties in the first wave of engagement. How could they possibly win after this? How could they even hope to pull through?

"Keep calm, and remember that your next foe is going to have taken damage from their previous fight, while you haven't." Dresner advised his younger peer. "Be sharp, look for the holes in the armor that your fellow soldiers made before you, and exploit them ruthlessly." It certainly might have seemed like standard, common sense advice one would give to a rookie, not someone who was supposed to be a veteran of many big battles, but the Clans using their own playbook shuffled the deck and confused soldiers. Trying to adapt to a wholly new and unfamiliar situation, one ought to remember the bases, because they were bases for a reason: They were important.

He would certainly make sure to follow his own advice from there on out, and Lukas was.. rather surprisingly well equipped to do very precisely that, though he suspected the enemy would not realize this... "I am Mechwarrior Darell of Clan Jade Falcon, piloting the Hellbringer in Gamma Star. I thereby challenge the pilot of the Lancelot on the sideline to Zellbrigen." Yet another unknown Mech approached from the slowly smoking treeline.

"Looks like you are up kid, I know you can do it." Dresner encouraged his younger peer one last time before narrowing his eyes. The pilot had introduced his machine as 'Hellbringer' but the battle computer data tagged 'Loki'. If they managed to make it out, they would have considerable amounts of information to bring back to Lyran command about the true names and capabilities of these machines, which no doubt could not have been gleamed in a traditional battle. Perhaps there were... advantages to this quirky and naive method of fighting, he realized.

But it was not long before he was hailed in turn. "I am Star Captain Myriam Pryde of Clan Jade Falcon, with the lone Warhammer IIC. I invoke Zellbrigen and challenge the pilot of the Longbow." Her voice sounded almost disinterested or bored, and Lukas suspected as he looked out for something resembling a Warhammer that she may be falling for very precisely the trap he'd been preparing as he bid his time. Meanwhile, two more opponents challenged Faust and McFarlane again as well, but the most imposing Mech in the enemy formation remained in the back...

#### **6 August 3050 – 1528H Local Standard Time**

**Planet Baker 3 – Federated Commonwealth**

**8 kilometers from the Vigil’s Landing Zone – Lowa Continent**

Once again, the choice of battlefield, while logical at the time, disadvantaged Lukas' load-out. Strictly speaking, it was not suited to it at all and he suspected that was the cause of his opponent's dismissive tone earlier. In theory, a Longbow had a withering amount of missile launchers that were thoroughly devastating at long range, but they could not fire in close quarter combat, and the woodlands would force him into these closer ranges. In practice, Roshak hadn't been the only one to make last-minute alterations...

When the beast came into view, it was so readily identifiable as a Warhammer that even the Battle computer did not hesitate. It was familiar, yet different in small, uncanny ways, moderately heavier and visibly drastically up-armored. These PPCs either could not make use of their range advantage, but they lacked his missiles' drawback – at least in theory – as the reports revealed Clan PPCs had no minimum range at all.

"And I am Leutnant Lukas Dresner. I look forward to testing the improvements of your machine on the base model." Though he knew not if responding to the challenge's hail was appropriate in Clanner culture, and indeed most of his comrades had not, Lukas was nothing if not polite and formal. He always liked things to be tidy, orderly and clean, and it was only natural that if his foe took the time to introduce themselves, he would offer them the same courtesy as he steadily increased his Mech's throttle to a circling maneuver.

"You will find them to be many, and no doubt insurmountable." Myriam countered, her voice only very slightly less disdainful. She could appreciate the attempt at civility, but had no real hopes for this duel of theirs to be any more than a formality. How could an unsupported fire support Mech caught in close quarters have any hopes of defeating a juggernaut like hers? From any and all logical point of view, this was an unwinnable nightmare scenario for her Inner Sphere opponent... and the fact that he seemed so calm about it tipped off the Star Captain that something was wrong, the realization causing her own nonchalant expression to suddenly harden. "What kind of tricks have you buried here?"

Pryde inquired half-rhetorically, wary of following Dresner into what could be a trap of some sort. Though Zellbrigen had been respected thus far, she had many unpleasant experiences on other planets. Unwilling to find out, Pryde opened fire first, her Warhammer IIC's twin PPCs shrieking with crackling, lightning-like blue bolts. One incinerated a tree that was in the way, while the other hit squarely the Longbow's upper left leg, melting away a significant quantity of armor, but thankfully not damaging the actuator within. Limping would have made an already slow Mech rather unmaneuvrable.

In response, Lukas opened up with one of his LRM-20s. Several of the missiles were deviated or detonated early by the upper canopy, and some were wildly off-course – more than should have been – but some did find their mark on the right torso of the Warhammer. "You misunderstand. We are well aware that any attempt at treachery or deceit will invite wrathful retaliation, and we have no desire to make such a foolhardy gamble. I bring with me naught but a few old soldier's nuggets of wisdom."

Nominally, a Longbow was equipped with enough missile launchers to unleash no less than a staggering 50 warheads in a single salvo. Dresner however had decided not to make use of this alpha strike capability, but to instead sequence his shots. 20, 20, 10. 20, 20, 10. By keeping a smaller, but constant stream of missiles down range, he was able to cycle through his launchers in such a manner that by the time the last had finished firing, the first was close to having reloaded. This also ensured that his opponent had very little breathing room to take aim and snipe with those equally fearsome Clan PPCs of theirs.

For Myriam Pryde, the answer was simple: She merely needed to make use of her Warhammer IIC's especially thick armor to close the gap. Not only would all of these nasty and annoying LRM launchers be neutralized at close enough a range, but she would herself be able to bring to bear her own SRM-6 and several pulse lasers. Combined with the PPCs, this weapon mix should – and would – utterly shred a defenseless Longbow in close quarters.

**\* \* \***

Meanwhile, Wilhelm faced a far more evenly-matched opponent. Both himself and this Darrel seemed to be piloting Mechs of roughly equivalent weight classes, armor, speed and weapon load-outs. They were both fast Heavies with energy-focused weapons and enough heat sinks to mostly handle the heat buildup. This meant that they could keep moving and firing almost indefinitely in protracted engagements, while only being limited by their abilities to manage excess heat and avoid damage.

Unlike the jolly exchange between Dresner and Pryde, Schreiber had no desire to become distracted by small talk. This was rather unusual for him, as in normal circumstances, the young blond was one of the most gregarious and talkative members of Alpha Company. Despite this socialite appearance though, Wilhelm Schreiber was not devoid of some healthy amount of caution. He knew when it was time to put on a show, and when it was time to be serious, and this was most definitely the latter.

Or perhaps one would be right to say that the only kind of 'show' that was welcome in the here and now was one of skill? For all of his earlier apprehensions, Wilhelm was now pushing his Lancelot to the limit, the Mech going about as close to its full speed of nearly a hundred kilometers per hour as navigating a forested area would allow. For a rare once, he actually had a speed advantage over his Clan counterpart, and he was going to use it.

Blue beams crisscrossed the woodlands as streams of gamma ray lasers and ion particles were flung out with great eagerness on both sides. The Hellbringer's pilot had a feeling of superiority and fired liberally as would an over-enthusiastic hunter trying to bring down game that was actively running away. This focus on offense cost Darrel, as Wilhelm's Lancelot was able to land the first few hits, forcing him to spend more effort on evasion himself, but he was not too worried. The Inner Sphere lasers and PPCs were weaker than his, after all.

For his part, Schreiber was, to his own surprise, starting to get into it. The ritualized format of the duels was very peculiar. It wasn't anything like the conventional warfare he knew where one had to be constantly aware of the battlefield because an ambushed attacker or faraway sniper could reveal themselves at any moment. This was... almost more like a game or competition of some kind, if albeit with lethal consequences. The more he thought about it, the young agent almost felt as if he was on Solaris' arenas rather than on a true battlefield.

"Well what do you know I guess this is fun after all." He let out, surprising himself with words he'd expect more from the aggressive Scott than himself. By now, his earlier fear had largely diminished but it had not completely evaporated, as his opponent was still firing extremely potent live shots. Speaking of which, one of the Clanner's ion steams squarely speared into his Lancelot's left torso, while the other just narrowly grazed his own PPC mounted on the Mech's right shoulder, inflicting no direct damage but scrambling the electronic from sheer proximity for a moment.

"You are not half-bad yourself." The Clan Mechwarrior retorted with less disdain than his peers, and his Lyran counterpart then realized that Darrell was also rather young and around his age, barely 20. "The last world I was on was such a bore. The militia refused the Batchall and we caught them with their pants down by hot dropping one of their airports and bulldozing the fighters and VTOL's there as they tried to take off. It was like a big turkey shoot." He continued, and Wilhelm couldn't help but feel cold at the clear lack of empathy. He'd been quick to assume his opponent less callous than the others, but had been wrong.

Yet, it wasn't as if that wasn't a tactic his own unit, or any other military for that matter, wouldn't enact. In fact, it was an extremely pragmatic and efficient one, which contrasted with the reports he'd read, and Wilhelm made a mental note of it. "There's a militia on this world too, but they went silent when you arrived. We have no idea what they're up to, but the Kommandant thinks they're preparing something." He responded. By all means, some might see his words just now as a betrayal of nominal allies, and even Wilhelm himself wasn't entirely sure why he'd spoken them. Perhaps deep down he was afraid that any ambushes from the militia would invite retaliation upon them as Faust suspected? Or perhaps he did not truly see them as allies for running while they fought?

**\* \* \***

As Wilhelm mulled over this, Alistair McFarlane was engaged in his own battle against another fast Heavy Mech that closely resembled the Hellbringer facing Wilhelm. This one however, was tagged a 'Thor' by his battle computer, while the pilot had introduced it as a 'Summoner'. McFarlane's situation was rather tricky at this time. Nominally, he was piloting a 90-tons Mech of Star League vintage, and he should easily be able to overwhelm a Heavy twenty tons his lesser.

In practice, this was not the case. He'd taken considerable damage against the massive Gladiator earlier, and his main weapon, his Gauss Rifle, was down for the count, while his opponent was still mostly fine, sporting an LBX-10, a LRM-15, and a PPC. This was an all-around very potent combination that would be the envy of your average Inner sphere assault Mech, and he had to take it on the nose because he 'Summoner' was considerably faster than his Highlander, again.

Thankfully, though all of its weapons were still functional, its armor – significantly thinner than his Highlander's – had not survived its previous match unscathed. It also lacked an Anti-Missile System, which would have been a major pain given missile launchers were pretty much all that Alistair still had to rely on. The two medium lasers wouldn't be able to do much on their own once the ammunition ran out, but that shouldn't happen too quickly, as the Highlander carried an adequate supply for them.

At this point, there was not much strategy that Alistair could make in response to the Summoner's weapon load-out. It was effective at all ranges, and he had no real way to counter it in any capacity. Despite himself, Alistair couldn't help but think that it was a damn well designed Mech, and that he could use a few of them in his own company. He'd not failed to notice it even carried jump jets this time, and he wouldn't be surprised by them.

Either way, the Summoner's pilot kept to mid-range as a compromise between accuracy and danger, unloading with his eclectic mix of weapons, and McFarlane had to work overtime to try and avoid damage. His own jump jets were starting to grow red from over-use as he was disregarding safety cool-down cycles, and there wasn't much left in the way of trees left in his general area to use as ablative armor as most were already burning or gone, forcing him to use his jump jets even more to try and rapidly relocate from barren areas to ones that still had trees to use.

As far as his offensive strategy was concerned, McFarlane juggled in the mid-range as well, throttling forward to unleash SRMs and laser shots before throttling back to get out of the obnoxious minimum range of his LRMs. Thankfully for him, his missiles found a weak spot before the Clanner's cluster round did, which caused an explosion that ripped off the launcher and corresponding arm. Though it did not destroy the Mech outright due to being protected by a CASE system, it quickly and drastically switched the balance around.

**\* \* \***

Last but not least, Faust had in the meantime been made to face by far the most intimidating Mech of this second set of duels. The battle computer tagged it as 'Masakari', indicating it had first been encountered by Draconis Combine troops far from Baker 3, but its pilot had called it a 'Warhawk'. Relatively light by assault Mech standards, the Warhawk's daunting nature came from its extremely simple and straightforward armament: four PPCs.

To put things in perspective, it needed be said that such a number of PPCs – and their even more powerful Clan versions at that – produced such a ludicrous amount of heat that any Inner Sphere pilot trying to fire such an array all at once would find their Mech instantly shutting down from the massive, uncontrolled excess heat, and with a very serious risk of exploding entirely, especially if they carried any form of ammo as well or other volatiles that could cook off. In other words, this kind of armament was downright insane.

And now Faust had to face it, head on, and one on one. Her Leviathan was a truly resilient design, but even it was going to have a hard time surviving such an onslaught, especially since it had already taken damage from Roshak's Man'O'War, or Gargoyle she called it. The only silver lining presenting itself to her was that the Warhawk, too, was damaged. She didn't want to imagine what the poor sod who went against it must have felt, but at least it seemed like they had been able to land some good hits on the monster's torso. Looked like impacts from high caliber auto-cannons, roughly equivalent to one or two AC20s. She would make good use of that.

Before that though, Hannah had to survive long enough to pull it off, and in order to do so, she had the opposite strategy than Alistair. Rather than try to relocate into heavily-forested locations – which she could not actually do due to lacking jump jets anyway – she instead decided to rely on the fire and smoke to blur visuals and confuse thermals. In fact, she quite literally strolled through the flames as they were unable to actually damage her Leviathan. They -would- however cause heat levels to increase, so she had to rely on her Gauss Rifles and to be wary of using her Medium Lasers too much.

But that was not truly a factor, because at no point did Faust even consider trying to approach that PPC abomination close enough to fire them. That would have simply been suicide as her Mech was too slow and did not have enough cover of terrain. Even with her tactic of wading back and forth in and around the inferno at whatever full speed she could muster, the Warhawk began to unleash its own version of sequenced fire. The first blue beam trailed ahead too far, and the second fell short, but they speared through the smoke with light. The third struck the Leviathan's right leg, and the fourth struck uncomfortably close to the left shoulder's Gauss Rifle capacitors, leaving them dangerously exposed.

Hannah had traded damage for a clear shot, however. From her fighting on Tiegel, she well knew the effect of PPCs in thick soot, and she veered hard left, following the vectors they had traced through it. It would come as a nasty surprise to the Warhawk's pilot that Hannah's talented marksmanship was, to put it plainly, on par with that of her spartanly-trained counterpart, and she was able to nail the large beast's center torso dead on with what was effectively a snap shot with very short aiming time before veering right back into the smoke.

The Clanner was quick to try and get revenge onto the retreating Leviathan after recovering its balance from the force of the impact, its first PPC having already cycled back to ready state by now, but it only managed a shot to the right arm and the rear armor of the left torso, neither of which were mission-critical in this particular duel as the Leviathan circled back around. By now, the Warhawk's pilot was clearly realizing not only his mistake, but his machine's current state of vulnerability as his engine had become exposed. It would all be determined by the next volley, one way or another.

To this end, the Warhawk's pilot patiently waited for its foe to poke its nose back out of the fire and brimstone, ready to absolutely obliterate it the moment it did, before its pilot had any chance to aim again. He did not want to reveal his position as he did before, and he even started to strafe around himself to become a harder target. There was no way he would allow himself to lose to this Freebirth scum.

Before long, Faust noticed the lack of incoming fire. She slowed her own Mech, and listened, using sound amplification. The Warhawk was slowly skirting around her little safe zone from the left – her wounded side – and likely intent trying to surprise her from the flank or back. She would not have any of it however, and Faust slowly and quietly re-positioned her Leviathan to the very rightmost edge of the fire which she could still count on to hide her thermal signature, which was very low due to moving slow and using no heat-generating weapons. When the Warhawk's cycling PPCs began to scythe through her previous position from the back, they hit only empty air and smoke, and the Leviathan's Gauss Rifles wailed out one last time.

**\* \* \***

By now, the fires raging through the woodlands had grown so harsh and widespread that even ejection was no longer especially safe. Nonetheless, specialized rescue vehicles, fire-resistant battle armor and still functional, non-engaged Mechs worked in concert to try ensure the survival of those who had not died at the controls of their machines. They were as guardian angels sweeping one away from the fires of hell, while the remaining duels concluded. Clearly no one had expected these 'mere Inner Sphere mercenaries' to beat not one but two elite Clan Mechwarriors, each. Their fellows were quite unsure whether this was supposed to mean they had failed as Warriors, or that the Spheroids they had fought were truly just that dangerous, fighting as lions.

And helping the matter of flammable greenery none was the torrent of staggered missiles still spewing forth from Lukas Dresner's longbow like one almost unending stream of ordnance and exhaust plumes and smoke.

On the other side, Myriam Pryde had been making rather good use of both what remained of the woodlands and her Warhammer IIC's speed and traverse to close in with limited damage, taking potshots with her ER PPCs whenever she saw a window of opportunity. The Star Captain was quick to notice said windows in the small gap between the sequenced missile launchers' cycle, but it had been difficult to get good shots in because she had to move a lot and rapidly and the window was not very long.

This was an acceptable compromise however, as by now, Pryde had gotten close enough that she could start unleashing her whole arsenal on the Longbow. The Pulse Lasers began to rapidly fire, and their intense fire cycle would quickly strip away at the hopelessly outmatched support Mech's otherwise respectably thick armor in moments. Moreover, she was just a few tens of meters away from that red zone where the LRMs would become combat-ineffective. "If you are so old then perhaps it is time for me to free you from your misery."

By now, Dresner's Longbow was going backwards as quick as it could, which certainly looked as if he was backing away in a panic from an outside point of view, but his voice betrayed none of that. "Oh please, there is no need to be so antagonistic. I have no qualm against you personally, and I would hope you do not either. Perhaps a nice warm cup of tea after this 'trial' is over would help everyone relax, yes?" In fact, he sounded perfectly in control.

Which should have been the exact opposite of his current situation. Either this man was insane, or he really did have an ace in the hole to play. Or perhaps this was all just a bluff to try and get her to back away? Pryde's mind raced to try to analyze and dissect the meaning of this strange behavior, but it only ever ended up at one conclusion; the same conclusion as before. Her Warrior's instinct screamed at her that something was wrong, very wrong.

This was starting to mess with her head quite seriously. Everything she was seeing and hearing seemed to herald her imminent victory as the Longbow's missile batteries stopped their cycle, and its puny twin Medium Lasers meekly attempted to respond to the bombardment from her five Pulses Mediums, which raked all across the fire support Mech's torso. She needed not even waste her own missiles or fire her PPCs at this point as she hammered in. "Have you gone mad?" Myriam couldn't help but ask directly.

Then it clicked. What had been bothering her this entire time all fell into place. The LRMs had been even less accurate than she'd have expected them to be, even in a difficult environment like this, and it was a small, almost insignificant oddity that had nagged at her the entire time, but now she understood. The insane bastard had hot-loaded his entire arsenal in a Mech with many tons of missile ammunition and no CASE protection system. Her eyes widened, and she slammed the throttle back.

Pryde hadn't managed to slip into the Longbow's vulnerable range, he'd baited her into a guaranteed-kill distance where the less-accurate, hot-loaded missiles had no minimum range and couldn't miss. The realization came too late however, as fifty tubes began to fire up all at once and devastated her Warhammer IIC's front, hitting every single weakness in the armor and setting a chain reaction. She did not wait to see the result before ejecting.

Yet, for the first time, Lukas Dresner's smile dropped as he looked down at the damage report. For the most part, his Longbow was holding up much better than it had any right to be against such an opponent in a head on confrontation. Ammunition expenditure had been severe, but he should still have enough for at least one more fight. At first glance it looked pretty good, but one of those pulse lasers had been lucky...

"Ah, esteemed Clan Warriors, we may need to call this one a draw. It would appear my gyro was made non-functional in this last exchange, and I do not believe it sporting to attempt another round in such a state." Lukas hailed out, his tone betraying some frustration. Though this might have seemed like a win, it was as far as he could go, and he was sternly dismayed he could not do more in this seemingly hopeless fight.

To his surprise, Pryde's voice ringed back, her neurohelmet still having a radio link even as the pilot stared up the Longbow from the ground level of the burning forest "Well at least you know when to quit. Do not insult me further with your pity. You earned this victory, so savor it while you can." The Star Captain was going to have a hard time living this down, but at least there had been several others from the Keshik also downed, so the shame wouldn't be hers alone.

**\* \* \***

"Looks like it is down to us. Time to wrap this up" Darell's voice sparked next in the Lancelot's cockpit. "Thanks for the tip by the way, try not to die too quickly." He added, referring to Wilhelm's mention of the militias just a moment before. Frankly, Darell was not looking forward to -that- part of the assignment at all. This battle had been actually fun and exciting, and he had no expectation the mop-up would be anywhere near like that.

Ironically enough, though the two of them were among the youngest on this battlefield, this was a mark of skill, and not the other way around. Both Darell and Schreiber had fast Mechs with, compared to their larger brethren at least, relatively little armor. Both of them had heavy energy weapons that could make short work of the other, and the fact that they had not yet only meant that they were extremely good at making use of speed and terrain, but also reading the other.

Dodging in a Mech – even a fast one – was tricky, because there was always a lag in reaction, the beasts were ponderous themselves, and lasers and Gauss slugs traveled effectively instantaneously. If one could read an opponent's intention however, they could guess what their foe was about to fire and where, and to preempt it, beginning their maneuver just a fraction of a second before the shot itself was even actually made. The ability to do exactly that was one of the things that separated merely adequate MechWarriors from truly great ones.

But it could not last forever. "Yeah, I agree." Wilhelm steadied himself and his Lancelot for one final pass. He'd started this fight with an advantage, being completely undamaged, and somewhat ironically enough, his Mech had more total armor than the Hellbringer before him. By now, it was just about all gone, yet his Clanner foe was still fearlessly darting about and clipping him with PPCs, headless of the risks. "It's kind of crazy to me that they would still do whatever it is they're up to when our fight here is giving them a chance to live another day." He let out, now speaking more freely than before.

From Wilhelm's point of view, it was madness. Alpha Company was fighting an unwinnable battle to try and earn the right for a safe withdrawal – for sheer survival – and the militia would throw away their efforts in what would be ultimately a doomed and pointless gesture. And for what? Spite? Misplaced patriotism? It wasn't just him being pessimistic either. This kind of guerrilla warfare had been tried unsuccessfully on dozens other worlds and the result was always the same: Death for all those involved. Dead soldiers could win a battle, but they lost wars.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Darell replied somewhat dismissively. To him, the subsequent hunt for the militia was less of a battle against a human opponent and more of pest extermination. Those who failed to follow the rules of civilized society forsook the right to call themselves civilized. Yet, despite the back and forth, he was still wholly focused on the battle before him, and he proved it as he managed to nail the Lancelot's left shoulder, causing it to crackle with sparks and smoke as its associated Large Laser grew almost static.

Schreiber's riposte was near instantaneous as he braked and turned on a dime, snapping shots with his PPC and remaining laser during his opponent's reload cycle before throttling back to full with 90° turn. Though he could not afford to follow up the shots as he focused on maneuvering, they paired blue beams landed with crippling effect now that the armor had been effectively stripped.

In the cockpit of his Hellbringer, Darell cursed profusely under his breath. The PPC had pierced through the structure of the relatively fragile Heavy Mech and damaged its reactor's peripheral systems, while the laser had jammed the hip actuator right below. Just one of the two could have been... barely survivable, but both at once were effectively a mobility kill. His Hellbringer wasn't going to go anywhere at anything but a pathetic limp, and that spelled the end of this battle of high mobility.

"Savashri! You won this one, but if we meet again on another world, mark my words I will even the score." The young MechWarrior let out with a sudden rise of anger and hate. The match had been all fun and game, but losing here and now was a threat to his promising career. He would have to prove himself repeatedly to show that this had been just a fluke and that he had what it took to advance in rank in the highly competitive environment that was the Clan military.

With the last duel coming to an end, only the crackling of burning woodlands and the footstep and wheels of support personnel recovering ejected MechWarriors and fallen chassis both broke the silence. On the second round, it seemed like the Vigil had done the impossible; three wins and arguably a draw, no losses. Remaining forces were 3 on the Sphere side, and 4 on the Clan side. Unfortunately, just about all of the latter had not participated in the second round of duels, and were no worse off than they were after the first...

#### **6 August 3050 – 1534H Local Standard Time**

**Planet Baker 3 – Federated Commonwealth**

**8 kilometers from the Vigil’s Landing Zone – Lowa Continent**

As Hannah took her distances from the flaming, mangled mess of fallen tree and vegetation that had served her well as cover but was now rapidly disintegrating to ashes, she took a moment to take a breath. Though the fire had been a relatively low temperature one that was of no concern to her armor, staying in it too long could have damaged the more delicate parts and actuators. For now, the only trace of the stunt was the black soot that stained much of the chassis, partially covering up the otherwise prominent flaming sword heraldry that normally made it stand out.

“Enough of this.” A familiar voice rose, imprinted with thinly-veiled exasperation, though what for? Faust could only make guesses, and a few did she have. “I, Timur Malthus, piloting the Highlander IIC and SaKhan of Clan Jade Falcon, hereby challenge the pilot of the blackened Leviathan. If any more try to get between my prey and I, they will be made to repent the errors of their ways.” The hail carried almost too much information at once, and seemed to validate one of these guesses.

Hannah traversed her Leviathan to locate her new foe, which was a rather easy matter. Not only were there few still standing on both sides, but this enhanced Highlander resembled the original so much it would have been easily identified even without an introduction. Earlier, she had wondered if the luck of the draw had been why the man now challenging her had waited this long to do so, and sat the previous round out. Given the form of his hail just now, she could suspect otherwise.

“I did tell you I would test you personally, ‘Kommandant’.” The last word was spoken somewhat derisively, but the rest seemed sincere and even. “You have managed to defeat two elite Trueborn Warriors, and you have done so without resorting to trickery or any other form of dezgra behavior. I am intrigued.” Malthus explained calmly as he brought his Highlander IIC to face the Leviathan, the two Mechs staring one another as if two boxers waiting only for the bell to ring.

“I didn’t think you would back away from that challenge, no.” The raven-haired MechWarrior acknowledged as she decided to try and take advantage of this short window of opportunity as well before the battle began proper. Meanwhile, McFarlane and Schreiber quickly received challenges in turn, but Faust could not pay it mind at the moment. “I’m not familiar with this title your Clan uses, but I assume anything with the word ‘Khan’ in it must be very important.”

“Aff. Each Clan has a Khan as their supreme leader. The SaKhan is effectively their deputy and second in command.” Malthus explained, seeing no harm in disclosing such basic information which the Inner Sphere would learn sooner than latter, if they hadn’t already. As he did, he also took advantage of the moment to assess the state of the Mech before him. Remaining weapon systems, estimated ammunition availability, weaknesses in armor, he saw it all.

For her part, Faust was somewhat taken aback by this revelation. Any and all Clan MechWarriors were dangerous in the utmost already as it were, was she really going to fight such a major figure? Could she fight one that claimed to be the superior in tactics and skill to almost all others? Regardless, she had come much too far to feel second thoughts now. In fact, with the initial apprehension of the encounter passed, she couldn’t help but feel relatively safe.

Dresner had joked earlier about the tendency of Kuritans and Capellans to shoot ejecting MechWarriors and execute prisoners, but these ‘Falcons’ really did not seem like that sort of people. Somewhat hesitantly and reluctantly, Faust wanted to to believe they would keep a civil conduct, so long as they themselves did. “Impressive, then I’ll have to give the fight of my life.” The Kommandant had never been one to get caught up in the heat of action, yet even she was feeling pressure bearing down on her as she tried to keep her detached tone and appearance.

“I do hope that you will.” And with those words, the battle began in earnest as the Highlander IIC’s weapons moved in the blink of an eye to make their first shot. Having studied Hannah’s Leviathan carefully in the short exchange, Timur had noticed the exposed capacitors of the Gauss Rifle on its left shoulder, and he intended to sunder it, taking the corresponding arm with it, and possible even the whole Mech with just one single salvo.

Naturally, it was too obvious of a target for Hannah not to anticipate, and the moment the Highlander IIC began to move, she twisted her own Mech’s torso to present its right side, or at least tried to. She wasn’t fast enough to completely conduct the maneuver, but it had moved just enough that the Highlander’s Gauss slug grazed the Leviathan’s hunched shoulder rather than drive a wedge straight through it. Of the LRMs that followed immediately afterwards, her AMS shot down many, with about half the rest clipping past and those that did hit being split between the right arm and torso.

Hannah knew that she could not replicate her earlier tactic. The battlefield wasn’t as favorable, Maltus knew what to expect, and he had superior range and mobility thanks to his jump jets despite having no faster a cruise speed. Her only hope of possibly securing a final win was to do the exact opposite of what she’d done in the previous two duels, and to charge ahead. She had to try and to deal as much damage as possible in as short a time as possible, with every gun blazing and throttle slammed.

And it was exactly what she would do. The grizzled veteran might not have had the genetic enhancements and unbelievable training and equipment of the Invader, but she had under her belt many long years of real conflict, and in her eyes the fires of witnessing many atrocities. She would not relent or waver, and before even had the torso finished twisting back, Hannah already sent the Leviathan full speed ahead, almost on a collision course. First, the paired Gauss Rifles wailed, but Maltus had mirrored McFarlane’s earlier maneuver, and they merely impacted the legs as he vaulted up. The lasers tried to follow, but failed to do so.

A wave of SRMs greeted Hannah as she did her best to follow Timur’s Highlander IIC like an angry bull as it landed, but the Leviathan’s Anti-Missile System woke up again, and shot down most. The Pulse lasers were a bit more problematic, but those had hit low, and so she could deal with the damage for the time being. Yet again, Hannah had traded giving a hit to ensure herself a steady firing platform as her Leviathan strained its overburdened engine. The gambit paid off, as she managed to hit the Highlander IIC squarely with those two Quad laser arrays of hers. Eight Mediums in all, were nothing to scoff at.

Yet, it was far from a gamechanger. Having only fought one match before this, and presumably a short one, Maltus’ Mech was barely damaged by the start of this one, and while the lasers stripped away a lot of armor, they didn’t hit anything vital. Worse, it seemed he had made the same gambit in reverse, to ensure a clear shot at the front of the Leviathan. Or at least, that was all Hannah could assume when the pulses fired again, and this time, they managed to hit the capacitors the Gauss had missed earlier. “So brutish, would you like to concede?”

Gauss Rifles, while lacking in explosive ammunition, were nonetheless inherently unstable weapons, and when the capacitors catastrophically discharged, it created a chain reaction that took the Leviathan’s left side and arm with it in an impressive conflagration. Yet, the CASE system installed protected the important vitals at the center from any of the damage. She had lost half of her firepower, just like that, but she wasn’t out. “It would be disgraceful to bow out so quickly, no? I can still fight.” Not that she had much of a desire to, in such a disadvantageous situation, but she felt compelled to. In response, the SaKhan simply laughed, and failed to explain why.

**\* \* \***

Meanwhile, Alistair McFarlane was similarly pressured. His Highlander had taken considerable damage and lost its main weapon two rounds ago, with his remaining options rather limited. All he could really do was more of the same, juggling the ranges of his remaining missile batteries. Technically, there was always still the option of a Highlander Burial, but even the hot-blooded and aggressive McFarlane was leery about that. After all, he'd read that these Clanners despised melee combat with a fury and saw it as dishonorable. Just because his boss fought an improved Highlander that also featured jump jets, didn't mean he was safe to use that maneuver without angering them and breaking the batchall. It wasn't a risk worth taking.

Which was a shame, because as another new Heavy Mech on the lighter end of the 'Heavy' spectrum came to face him, Alistair really wanted to just kick it in the face. This one, the battle computer tagged as 'Cauldron-Born'. "I do not know by which miracle you managed to survive this far, but it is high time to put an end to it." The pilot had introduced himself as Huan Shi-Lu during the challenge call earlier, and he made no secret of feeling personally insulted that the challenge had gotten to a third round at all.

Huan's Mech had taken some damage, but none of it was critical, and it could bring to bear a rather complex array of weapon systems including another Gauss Rifle, a LBX-5, missiles for both short and long range, and a small cluster of lasers. It was well equipped for every kind of situation, and Huan was already picking his targets in the Highlander's battered armor. He intended to make this quick, as he felt the honor of the whole Keshik was threatened by this turn of event, but even in his seething contempt, Huan would still not breach the rules of Zellbrigen. They were sacrosanct.

"Less shit talking more backing it up." Alistair simply countered with an almost bored tone as he opened the duel by firing his LRM and following it up with his jump jets as soon as the salvo reached its end. The auburn pilot had over his years dealt with a great many disrespectful foes that spewed salt and venom endlessly, so he was less than impressed. Despite the image he projected, Alistair was not so simply taunted into over-extending and making mistakes.

And the first example of that was that he was purposefully trying to exhaust his LRM ammunition by this point, dumping it as quickly as possible every time the reload indicators indicated the Ready signal, even if he did not have a good shot, whilst relocating as rapidly as his jump jets would allow. The reason for this was that with his armor in shambles, it was only a matter of time before a hit found a bin, and he wanted to minimize the risk of an ammunition detonation.

Shi-Lu was far from simply taking it standing though. Past the initial salvo, the Clan MechWarrior had gotten moving fast, leveraging his speed and range advantage to try and dictate the conditions of the battlefield. He moved into the open to try and force McFarlane away from the what little intact and unburnt forestry the latter could still use – and did use, profusely – as ablative armor. Much as Faust earlier, Shi-Lu used the smoke and flames to throw off sensors as he masterfully evaded McFarlane's salvos and replied in kind with his own.

The Ebon Jaguar's LRM and Cluster rounds thankfully made little impact at first, but the fearsome Gauss Rifle did, with one slug driving deep into the Highlander's right leg, and another smashing into lackluster armor and ending its course into a heat sink. The situation was getting from bad to worse, but McFarlane never wavered or gave up. With the LRM bin indicating empty, he did the only thing he still could, and closed in, into the open.

"You foolish Spheroid!" Huan roared out as a third Gauss slug ran into the right leg, smashing the knee actuator and forcing the Highlander to slowly limp. "You are at my utter mercy." He continued as he sent his Ebon Jaguar circling, ready to pepper the crippled Highlander into oblivion with his lasers and cluster rounds. In his mind, Huan had already won, and there was no way the badly mauled Highlander could pose any sort of a threat any further. It could barely move, and all of its long-range weapons were depleted or destroyed.

Yet, McFarlane would prove this assumption to be the foolish one as his jump jets flared out one last time. To jump with a crippled leg was almost impossible as landing gracefully was tricky even with fully operational actuators, but the Scott demonstrated his skills in a manner that was impossible to deny as he proceeded to do not only that, but more. With one last Hurrah, the Highlander blazed straight towards the now surprised Clanner, landed, stumbled, but stood upright, and unloaded its lasers and SRM at nearly point blank range.

The Ebon Jaguar's own shoulder-mounted missile battery was hit, suffering the exact kind of ammunition explosion Alistair had been trying to avoid, and taking with it the LBX-carrying arm, but Shi-Lu's Mech too was still functional. He'd been given a bloody nose in this final act of defiance, but it was over. Still reeling from the blast, Shi-Lu hunched his Mech forward and unleashed his own laser cluster, sundering the already crippled knee actuator and sending the Highlander on its face.

The legendary assault Mech was now quite well and truly unable to move, and Shi-Lu set his remaining weapons upon its back. McFarlane did not even try to eject. Highlanders' ejection system was notoriously rough and awkward, and he doubted it would even function with his mech's face down into the ash and grime. He awaited his fate, whatever it would be, content with the mad fight he'd given the Clans, and if this was going to be it, then he'd at least have gone in just about as close to a blaze of glory as it would get.

As he did, Shi-Lu's anger ran hot, further insulted at having taken this much damage in the last moments of the duel. His Ebon Jaguar was a priceless gift, a brand new design from Clan Smoke Jaguar that represented the friendship between the two Clans. To see it damaged so... it made his blood boil and made him want revenge. Yet, Shi-Lu managed to stay his hand. Gratuitous murder and destruction of still usable war material was not the way of the Clans. "It is over. Cease"

**\* \* \***

Of all three of the final round duels, it was that of Wilhelm Schreiber's Lancelot, and Lera Helmer's Summoner which were the most closely matched in terms of tonnage, damage taken and capabilities. Once again, the gregarious cadet of the Company was in luck, getting the most 'fair' match up he could have hoped for. This Summoner, however, had a completely different weapon load-out than the one which Alistair had defeated on round 2.

Quite unlike the all-long-range set-up, this Summoner's most fearsome weapon was one of the same mammoth, improved AC-20s that Faust had faced on round 1, backed by a Streak SRM-6. It was a configuration intended to massacre opponents at close range with extreme prejudice, with only a single Large Laser for long-range combat. It was obvious that this Mech, too, had been equipped specifically to be effective in the close quarters that woodlands, nominally at least, often forced fighting into.

Truly, he was blessed. "Hm, I guess I'm lucky I'm facing you now instead of in the first round." Wilhelm opened with some friendly banter. He was still somewhat riding high on the adrenaline of his previous fight, which prevented the fear from settling back in. The reason for his statement was also obvious: By now, the woodlands had suffered enough that it was his turn to take advantage of the artificial, fire and ordnance borne clearing around him to leverage a range advantage.

But this advantage was not that big. With his left arm damaged, it could not be relied upon, but at least he could fire his remaining large laser and his PPC without breaks without risks of overheating. "I would not rush to such hasty conclusions if I were you." His opponent retorted with a voice that radiated resolve. Helmer had seen too many of her Starmates get taken down by these enigmatic Spheroids this day to take this Lancelot and its pilot lightly. She would not under-estimate them. "Who are you even?"

With this question, both Heavies throttled forward, beginning another round of the fast-paced game Schreiber had played previously. The young blond could not help but laugh at this question. "Oh boy, that is so -our- line. -You- guys came out of absolutely nowhere, with these crazy advanced Mechs and weapons." He highlighted the irony, though without losing focus on the battlefield. His Lancelot was faster than the Summoner, but not by much, and if he wanted to maintain distance, it wouldn't be easy.

"We are Clan Jade Falcon. Have we not made this clear enough, or are your ears defective?" Helmer countered as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, and from her point of view, it was. They had already presented themselves from the very first moment, what else was necessary? Either way, she charged straight in. Though the Lancelot's energy weapons were no slouch, it was damaged, and she only needed one or two salvos at close range to savage a fresh Mech. This needed not be complicated, the longer the match went on, the more at a disadvantage she would be in a long-range battle of attrition.

Needless to say, that wasn't the answer Schreiber had been hoping for, but he supposed – begrudgingly – that it was technically correct and legitimate. "I suppose. Well I'm private Schreiber, and this is the Muspelheim's Vigil. We are a... mercenary unit." He couldn't help but hesitate slightly. It felt a bit odd to be lying to people who were so utterly transparent, and he was well aware of their ferocious aversion to deceit, but he had to make the split second decision that there were very little chances they would discover the lie before they were gone, if at all, and OpSec needed to be respected.

The exchange suddenly fell into silence for the better part of a minute as the two traded long-range shots with their energy weapons, the blue beams shrieking back and forth while Lera attempted to close the gap. Wilhelm was hard-pressed to maintain the distance, because while his foe could simply advance in a straight line at full speed – or at least as close to it as evasive maneuvers would allow – he had to move on a tangent, which effectively meant he had to cover more ground to get the same distance away.

"I do not buy it." Lera eventually hailed back as the blue sparking jolts of a PPC hit danced around her Summoner's right shoulder, but failed to destroy it. "We have encountered many mercenaries in our journey here. They were always ramshackle bunches with more bravado and dirty tricks than anything resembling skill. You have Star League vintage and are able to handle them better than any Freebirth I have seen. Who are you really?"

Wilhelm could not respond. He knew not how to respond. How could he try to explain without either lying blatantly or breaching the secrecy of the Vigil's true mission? This was difficult enough of a thing to do while simply talking, but to try to think about it while fighting would have been suicidal. He needed to keep focused on the fight, and thus silence was his only answer. No, that was not entirely correct. Silence and renewed fervor as he managed to land another hit squarely on center mass with his functional laser.

Understanding that she would not get her answer without forcing it out of the man, Lera Helmer also focused on the battle at hand. She concentrated, read the vectors of her own Mech and her opponent's, and predicted his movements. With a press, the Summoner's jump jets flared up at the apex of a running running start – a very dangerous maneuver in and of itself – and the Mech twisted as it wrested itself into the Lancelot's trajectory, attempting to come as close as could be from cutting it off and greeting it with a salvo of Streak missiles.

Schreiber quickly twisted his Lancelot's torso to use its already crippled arm to shield himself, which caught fire as a result, but it was worth it. He then attempted to counter by spearing the Summoner in mid-air with his PPC, but fell short and the lethal particle stream only clipped the Clan Mech's side. With that, he hard braked and reversed his Lancelot, lest he rammed right into that waiting autocannon that gleamed menacingly.

Yet it was simply too slow. As soon as the Summoner touched down, the gargantuan cannon fired with thunder and fury. The first shot rammed into the Lancelot's side torso with enough force as to knock it off course, smashing through the XL engine's peripherals and causing a power crash. The second round sat waiting, the AC-20 aimed dead on center torso, but one could not interrogate the dead after all...

**\* \* \***

"And like that, you are all that is left." Timur Malthus indicated in a solemn manner. "Do you truly think that you can win against four of us with that mauled half of a Mech of yours?" He asked, and rhetorically so. In truth, for Timur, there was only one acceptable answer to his question, and failure to answer it correctly was punishable by death, no matter what had happened up to this point. He would not countenance it.

There was only a second of hesitation. "Not really, no." Hannah was no fool. Even though the remaining Mechs were heavily damaged as hers was, whether or not she could survive this current encounter at all remained a rather precarious prospect to begin with. There was simply no way she could do that, and then three more. "It'd be almost laughable to think so, really, so I won't insult you." She added with a resolute tone, partially reaching the same conclusion as the Khan without even realizing it.

With those words, the brief lull in the battle disappeared, and Maltus sent his Highlander IIC backward, covering it with another wave of of pulse lasers and missiles, though this one was less effective, as Hannah's Leviathan shifted and twisted, AMS shooting down warheads and a pulse laser being soaked up by the already useless stump of a left side, while the other two clipped by. "Then why is it that you fight on in such a hopeless battle?" He was genuinely curious.

"Because I'm a soldier." Faust responded on instinct without thinking in the heat of the moment and adrenaline, and cursed herself for the slip. It was discrete, but it was there. She'd not said Mercenary, and few if any mercenaries fought with such ferocity for a cause. They fought for money, and cut their losses early. "Anyways, one of your subordinate earlier, Roshak, mentioned another unfamiliar term, 'bondsman' care to explain what that one means?" She quickly – and perhaps clumsily – attempted to change the topic. Her true, laid-back and almost callous nature seeping through and betraying the facade of polite respect she'd carefully built up.

And again, Malthus could only laugh. "Interesting." He first noted on the slip itself as he was forced to twist in turn, attempting to clip the salvo of the Leviathan's remaining Lasers and Gauss rifle. His right arm's armor held, but now it was his turn to have to be very mindful of his own Gauss capacitors. There wasn't much left, and those quad lasers could fish through it if they hit again, but this was the lesser evil. If he had to lose one arm, he preferred the Gauss, rather than the SRM arm, when his enemy was so keen to charging into close range. "A Bondsman is a defeated foe taken as spoils of war. It should be seen as a great honor, as only worthy opponents are taken."

Faust couldn't help but grimace upon hearing this. The unspoken implications were crass to say the least, but she was going to give the benefit of the doubt and assume that this wasn't what she was thinking of, and that it was just her constant exposure to the worst of humanity speaking. "I don't think there is any way in which being a prisoner of war can be seen as honorable." She retorted even as her Mech blared with missile lock alarms and small impacts, with the AMS struggling as it tried to shoot down all of them, but could not.

"A bondsman is no simple prisoner, that is a barbarian concept." Timur retorted, shaking his head. "A bondsman works and is taken care of civilly and properly. Those who display great combat skill, integrity and loyalty are adopted as Warriors of their new Clan. Hypothetically, were I to claim you as my bondsman, you would have already proven the first two, and would only require the third – and suitable education – to be accepted as a Warrior of Jade Falcon."

"Fascinating, but I'll have to pass." Strictly speaking, this could have been a golden opportunity to learn about her true mission objective from the inside. Being offered infiltration freely by the other side like this? It was insane, almost too good to pass up. As the old Terran saying went though, when something looked too good to be true, it generally was, and Faust couldn't make such a gamble. Or perhaps, she was afraid of making such a gamble; afraid of what she might find, deep down.

To emphasize her point, she unleashed another volley from her Leviathan's remaining laser array. This time, luck was on her side, as one of the lasers managed to find a weakness in the armor of the left arm that Malthus was trying to protect, lodging itself straight into the ammunition bin, and taking the SRM launchers with it. This caused the SaKhan to curse under his breath, but the setback was yet again within acceptable parameters.

"Oh but it is not your choice to make I am afraid." He countered, and punctuated his word with a close-range shot from his damaged Gauss Rifle whose slug ran straight through the weakened armor of the offending bulky laser array, causing the delicate internal power conduits and electronics to burst with flames. "I just might grant your request though. It has been... uncannily refreshing to speak and fight so freely, when the rest of your 'mercenary' kin has been naught but treacherous, spineless vermin." He added, emphasizing the word almost mockingly.

"That is all I ask, really." Faust let out with a heavy sigh she hadn't even realized she was holding. It seemed like after all, the gambit – the big one that actually mattered – was about to pay off. Around them, the fires were starting to wind down as flammable material was consumed and running out. Smoke was thick in the air, but did not hamper immediate visibility. With a sharp twist, the Kommandant aligned her last remaining weapon and fired. The Gauss Slug shattered the Highlander's elbow actuator, but missed the capacitor, having failed to blow it up but nonetheless rendering it combat-ineffective.

Timur had not expected his foe to still have teeth even now, but ultimately it changed little. Clan LRMs did not share their Inner Sphere counterparts' difficulty in firing in close quarters, and between his pulse lasers and LRM-20, it was more than enough to finish off the badly savaged Leviathan, no matter the valiant struggle of its AMS. Before long, the last of the reactor armor was stripped, and the final Gauss was disabled in turn. She had no weapon left.

Which meant there was no point in continuing this any further. All it would achieve was waste a precious Mech, and likely die in the process. "Alright, that's as much as I can give you. I yield." The Leviathan had lived up to its reputation as an almost unkillable juggernaut, and it showed as she set it to begin backing away. Both of its arms were gone and both sides of its torso charred black with flames and explosions, yet the monster still functioned.

#### **6 August 3050 – 1555H Local Standard Time**

**Planet Baker 3 – Jade Falcon Occupation Zone**

**Neutral Zone – Lowa Continent**

The immediate aftermath of the battle was more surreal than even the unbelievable events that had led up to it. Without having realized it, through her last statement in her duel, Hannah had effectively requested 'Hegira' from the Falcons. As she would later come to learn, Hegira the term for a form of honorable withdrawal that can be granted to a defeated opponent to allow them to leave a conquered world or territory without fear of any further combat, or loss of honor.

It was only granted to those who had performed suitably, and there was absolutely no obligation to do so, however. The fact that the Falcons had done so at all was telling of the respect – in many cases more begrudging than otherwise, but not always – that the Vigil's pilots had earned. Moreso than they could have even realized at the time.

Though some pilots had lost their lives in the battle, it was much, much fewer than the Vigil had expected to lose, to say nothing of the horrendous casualties that would have been taken in a straight-on engagement or attempt at guerrilla warfare. Even the Mechs – or what remained in some cases – were allowed to be salvaged. Where the Vigil had expected to lose at best a company and at worst the overwhelming majority of its assets, it was now allowed to depart with very few true losses to register.

Almost suspiciously few, even, and Hannah was already preparing mentally for that. It was almost guaranteed that their detractors within the Lyran intelligence services and high command would accuse them of having ran without a fight or some other distasteful idea. Thankfully, the battle recordings from the Mechs' computers should present not only decisive evidence otherwise, but also extremely useful data in general.

For the time being though, the departure had not been immediate. On top of the aforementioned salvage, first aid had to be provided to the wounded, on both sides, and service for the dead. The result of this necessity was the creation of a small, temporary camp in the by now slowly cooling down ashes of the battlefield. In this oddity of a camp, two wholly different cultures stood practically side by side like mismatched neighbors.