NEAR TIBSHELF
BLUE MOUNTAINS
GILLINGHAM
FEDERATED SUNS
08:52, 08 JUNE 3044
Despite the front he liked to put on, Lieutenant Cliff Hornbuckle was afraid. He always was before a fight and it was a personal opinion that anyone who wasn’t was either lying or just didn’t understand what they were getting themselves into.
A decade in the Gillingham Militia had seen him deployed against a few opportunistic raids—enough to prove himself in, anyway—had given him an appreciation that the heroic battles of his boyhood stories were a lot less noble than they were made out to be.
Even his scraps against pirates — mostly salvaged antiques, stolen vehicles, or customised AgroMechs — had felt like desperate holding actions at the time. He couldn’t even imagine going through something like that woman, Ellie whatshername, claimed to have gone through. There was no way a person could endure that and come away with their sanity intact.
In the cockpit of his Grasshopper, he laughed. Maybe she hadn’t. She had that same look in her eyes he’d seen in survivors of that massive wildfire in Ashfield last year, or the displaced people from this raid that had made it to Arrow Town. All of them had that look that spoke of many sleepless nights. He could only imagine what any of them had been through to get to this point.
He’d come out expecting to be welcomed as a hero, but instead found himself a helping hand at best and an interloper at worst. Strangely, though, he also found himself wanting to be worthy of their acceptance. If there was any truth in his old stories, it was all about people like them, the “ordinary” soldiers making the best of a bad situation.
Which is how he found himself leading two ‘Mechs and a tank through a light snowfall to attack an old dairy farm.
Captain Walters had stressed the time sensitive nature of the final assault. There was apparently intel of some kind of facility underneath the mountain near Tibshelf, apparently built by the bloody Star League of all things. What they would be doing on a place like Gillingham, Hornbuckle could only begin to guess, but he took the Captain’s word for it.
A more pressing concern was bringing the pirates to task before they left or reinforcements could arrive. That he could understand.
“Snap, pelt them with missiles as soon as you get the range, I want to see a tight spread,” he ordered to the Catapult. “Legs, you do the same but keep an eye out for a direct assault, and Bog, hang back for the withdrawal.”
It felt strange that Hernandez wouldn’t be along for the mission, and even stranger that the Captain had put themselves in his place as a subordinate lance member. The rationale was that it was still a mostly-‘Mech lance and Hornbuckle apparently knew what he was doing, but it was still a little odd. Nevertheless, he took it as a sign of faith in the ability to do his damn job.
“Alright everyone, coming up on the target,” he announced as the dark block of the dairy farm resolved through the haze. The militia had already hit this outpost a few weeks ago, taking out a ‘Mech and a two Scorpion tanks in the process, not to mention stealing a truck and some supplies, though a recent recon sweep showed the pirates had doubled down on improvised “fortifications” and were now using it as the base of operations for their lance of hovertanks. “Time to poke the hornet’s nest, LRMs fire when you get the range.”
Hornbuckle checked his own rangefinder, putting the distance at just under half a kilometre, give or take when the ageing systems struggled to account for reduced visibility. With that in mind, any sort of accuracy would be next to impossible at this far out, and damaging anything with his five-tube launcher was always a bit of a Hail Mary anyway.
Good job that wouldn’t be an issue. All they needed to do was make their presence known and see what came to say hello.
Checking the range again, he flipped to his LRM controls and fired, his entire cockpit rumbling when the head-mounted launcher let loose. Smoky darts arced into the sky, followed by a twice-again spread from Walters’ Manticore and the veritable swarm that came from Snap’s dedicated missile boat.
“Cease fire, hold position at three hundred metres,” he ordered, keeping in a wobbly chevron with Snap and Walters, the tank taking the middle of the formation by virtue of having no jump jets and therefore less ability to react to any Situations. Bog was staying behind, their little ace in the hole if things got a bit too hairy.
Hornbuckle kept marching, eyes flitting between his sensors and his viewport, easing off the throttle then closing it entirely when he reached the marker.
The clank and stomp of a ‘Mech in motion ceased, leaving only the subsonic thrum of an idling fusion engine and the gentle patter of snow on his cockpit.
“Eyes peeled,” he said tensely. In a ‘Mech battle, motion was armour, especially for a machine as manoeuvrable as his, but the whole point here was to present an obvious, tempting target.
The snow was falling thicker now, starting to settle in little drifts on the shoulders of Hornbuckle’s ‘Mech, the distant blur of the farm slipping from sight behind a white veil.
He began to wonder if the intel had been incorrect. Was the farm still being used as a base? Had the enemy anticipated what they were up to and withdrawn all their forces back to the town? Were they–.
“Contact at three o’clock!” shouted Snap. “Incoming–.”
Whatever she was going to say was quickly cut off when something exploded against the flank of her ‘Mech, staggering it sideways and sending a plume of fire and broken armour scattering into the snow. Another explosion burst in front of Hornbuckle, a geyser of white bursting into the air, and a pair of dark shapes sped through their formation at ludicrous speeds, accompanied by the petulant whine of high-tuned ICE engines as they went by. Before anyone even had time to react, a scattering of missiles flew through the snowfall and rippled around his ‘Mech.
“Begin withdrawal and stick to the plan!” he ordered, slamming on his jump jets and leaping backwards over a hundred metres in a handful of seconds. First step: make yourself hard to hit. “Snap, are you still with us?”
“I’m here, I’m here,” Snap, or Libby Gonzalez to give her real name, replied tensely. “Confirm Saladins on the field, got a good look as they went past, ripped away most of my armour on the right side… Whose stupid idea was it to stand still again?”
“Suspect Saracens too, judging by the missiles,” Hornbuckle replied, ignoring the comment. “Any damage, Legs?”
He had no idea who had chosen the Captain’s callsign, but it must have been a cruel person indeed. Although, they seemed to be accepting enough of it.
“Left us alone for now,” Walters replied. “We’ll keep our eyes peeled and keep them on their toes.”
Off to Hornbuckle’s near right, the Manticore had already turned on its axis and begun ploughing back towards the treeline, turret and LRM launcher swivelling independently from each other as they tracked for potential targets. Even as he watched, the tank’s PPC fired off a crackling shell at something he couldn’t see, returned by a brace of missiles that impacted short of the vehicle’s slab-like rear.
The Grasshopper landed and he was already on guard, arms up and torso on a swivel to keep his eye out for further attacks. Saladins were one-trick dogs with a very big bite, using their rapid speed to attack their targets from a vulnerable direction and hit them point-blank with a shot from their massive AC/20s. They were fast but they were fragile, and needed to be coming directly at the enemy to get a shot off, so the best way to get one was when it was making its approach.
Easier said than done.
A dark shape appeared, sliding over the top of the snow at high speed, straight towards him. With instinctual swiftness he let loose with all his lasers, beams of green and blue cooking away tonnes of ice to steam in a second, dropping the visibility even further. Hornbuckle began sweating as his cockpit flooded with heat, at complete odds with the weather outside, more water vapour wreathing his ‘Mech as snow fell into the radiator vents and instantly flash-boiled.
Something barrelled past through the newborn fog, suggesting he might not have hit his target, although he at least seemed to have at least put it off trying for an attack.
Muttering and swearing, shifting from the uncomfortable way his legs were sticking to the cushions of his chair, he glanced at his heat gauge. Wasn’t great where it was, but the snow was already helping to bring it back down, and if there was anything a Grasshopper was good at, it was dumping heat. Another press of the pedals, another round of swearing, and he was back in the air, missiles from one of the hidden Saracens streaking past him.
He had to give the pirates one thing: they knew how to drive their damn hovertanks.
Mouth dry as a bone, every breath of air like having his head in an oven, he landed a bit closer to the woods now. Letting loose with everything had been a stupid idea, though he could feel it getting cooler by the second. No point in overtaxing his fusion engine, that’d just lead to an emergency shutdown or catastrophic overpressure. He’d never hear the end of it.
Through the snowfall he could just about see Snap hit the ground a couple of hundred metres away, more visible because of the overlay on his HUD than any real line of sight – the camouflage worked, who knew. She lashed out with her own lasers, green flashes chasing after something as it roared past. Walters was managing the best, their tank’s ability to cover multiple directions at once apparently making them a less tempting target.
In the distance, the farm was now completely gone from sight.
CRASH.
So distracted was he by what everyone else was doing, Hornbuckle had taken his eye off the ball. One of the Saladins had circled around and caught him unaware, the heavy shell from its autocannon striking him square in the chest, the impact knocking the wind from him and sending the Grasshopper sprawling on its back, rattling his brain inside its case.
He groaned, dazed, as warning lights flashed in his face.
Over a tonne of armour had been blasted from his torso, his large laser was blinking a lens misalignment message, and the plates on his back weren’t looking too happy either.
At least the heat’s sorted itself out… he thought dumbly.
Grunting, he set about righting his ‘Mech, eyes tracking every direction he could to look for– there!
Halfway to his knees, he fired the laser in his right arm, not bothering with accuracy, his intention manifesting when the Saladin swerved to avoid the shot, its own attempt at gunnery ruined by the manoeuvre. The hovercraft overcompensated, slewed, and slid sideways across the top of the snow as its driver attempted to bring it back on course. Slowed and nearby, it couldn’t do anything to stop Hornbuckle hitting with the laser in his other arm before it managed to zip back out of sight.
He grunted, feeling better for landing a hit, even if it wasn’t a kill blow.
Arms protecting his face from the snowflakes that looked suspiciously like LRMs, he made his way back to his feet, finishing off the manoeuvre with another jump. Snap was going to give him hell for being so sloppy.
“Still alive?” came her voice over comms.
Right on cue. “Fancied a lie down,” he replied flatly. “Keep your focus.”
“Yes, sir!” Snap responded with just enough amusement to show she was resisting the urge to tell him to take his own advice.
A burst of snow flew up nearby, the result of an autocannon round of smaller weight than anything they had seen in use so far, followed by another. He squinted as he scanned his surroundings. They had landed far enough away that whoever was firing them was taking shots in the dark, probably to keep them dispersed.
“Eyes peeled,” he told the lance. “More units in play, just out of sight.”
Something landed just inside his field of vision, a humanoid shape that fired off a pair of ill-aimed missiles before leaping back out of range with the telltale plumes of jump jets. The enemy had gotten their own ‘Mechs to the fight now too, first the fast responders but it would only be a matter of time before the heavier units caught up.
Hornbuckle flicked on his comms again, this time to the company-wide channel, “Getting crowded over here.”
Another jump, another exchange of fire, a few more plates of armour blasted off or melted away, and still no meaningful damage to the enemy that harangued them with lightning-fast drive-by assaults. The forest was at their backs now, and the snow had slackened off again, revealing a whole host of dark shapes lurching towards them from the direction of town.
They just needed to hold on for a little bit longer…
There it was.
From the outskirts of Tibshelf came a bright flash that could be seen even through the snowfall, followed seconds later by a resounding thunderclap that echoed throughout the valley.
The pirate forces visibly hesitated, confused at what had just occurred, while from the forest burst an impatient Hunchback accompanied by an entire lance of medium tanks. The ‘Mech’s autocannon barked, smashing in the front of a Saladin as it came in for a daring attack, reducing it to a crashing, tangled wreckage. Blue beams lashed out from the Goblins towards the more distant foes, accompanied by the launchers and PPC from Walters and Snap.
This seemed to be more than the pirates had bargained for, forcing them to back off at best speed and scurry back to the safety of their stronghold, chased by opportunistic fire from the militia who stayed where they were.
Hornbuckle barked a laugh, performing a rude gesture with his hand actuators towards the retreating enemy. It was always a tense affair, being the distraction unit, but it had paid dividends. They had a better idea about the enemy’s response time now, what kind of forces they were willing to commit, and better yet they had been given the opportunity to let the recon lance run right up to the DropPort and detonate an ammo dump in one of the warehouses. He wished he could have been there to see an explosion of that size.
Now the enemy would be on their guard, sure, but they had been reminded that, even in their stolen stronghold, the defenders of Gillingham could still bloody their noses.
Just wait until tomorrow, Hornbuckle thought, as he led his lance back into the cover of the trees. Just you wait.
NORTH OF TIBSHELF
BLUE MOUNTAINS
GILLINGHAM
FEDERATED SUNS
21:11, 08 JUNE 3044
The night before a battle was always a time of great anxiety, and thus it had been since the first humans had picked up their clubs and set upon their neighbours, and any competent commander knew that you loosened the rules somewhat. Soldiers needed to be distracted from the idea that this time tomorrow their next posting might be six feet underground.
So long as everyone reported for duty when and where they should, eyes were firmly turned the other way. In this vein, the hidden valley was awash with quiet mirth. The mess tents were packed with infantry, crewmen, and techs sharing stories, jokes, and a little something that had made its way from Arrow Town off the record. Others had stolen away to the seclusion of their sleeping quarters for more… private parties.
The medical Sherpa was hosting a smaller affair, though not quite as intimate, only a handful of people perched amongst the boxes. It was a gathering of the lance, the first souls who had met in organised defence of Tibshelf, passing around a bottle of something from Monty’s house that was older than the average age of the attendants. Anne was there too of course, Jamie reinforcing that she had been there from the start just as much as any of them, and Everett and Abe Sandoval had been extended invitations though both declined so as to be with their people.
“And he walked around like that for five days!” Ronnie concluded her story, giggling. “No idea how you can’t notice something like that on your neurohelmet!”
“Don’t know about you, but I don’t usually look at the front of the thing when putting it on,” Elise pointed out.
Ronnie bobbed her head, conceding the idea, “Yeah, I guess.” She took another sip out of her tin mess cup and pulled a face. “What about you, Elise, did you get up to anything like that when you were training?”
“Come now, I bet all little miss NAIS ever did for fun was starch her uniform and read regulations,” Jamie pointed out from where they were lounging on the camp bed. In light of good behaviour, Sara had been given leave to have her own tent on the condition she be shot if she was seen trying to leave the camp. If she sneaked out then the reasoning was that at this point the elements would get her anyway.
Laughter echoed through the confined space, and Jamie smiled. Like everything else they did, they drank in calculated moderation, but it seemed to loosen them up no end.
Elise raised an eyebrow and took the laughter in good humour.
“While it’s true we on the officer track believed we needed to be more, uh, reserved, I had my fair share of shenanigans,” she told them, ignoring Ronnie’s mocking repetition of the word ‘shenanigans’. “In my second year I fell into a bad crowd...” Expectant, slightly disbelieving ‘ooohs’. “…the Technicians!”
Monty chuckles and Ronnie snorted. Anne just listened quietly, knees up to her chest and chin on her arms. Things were still strained between them.
“Techs at the NAIS aren’t just learning to fix things, we’re talking design and invention, experimental tech… the new Team Banzai,” Elise explained. “And as such they were brilliantly smart and ever so slightly mad,” More chuckles. “My girlfriend at the time was one of them—,” Anne sat up a bit more. “—we met after arguing about whether land-air ‘Mechs were ever any use. Anyway, after all this rambling you’re probably expecting something smart… All we did was put vanilla extract in the life support systems of my rival lance’s training ’Mechs; first time they heated up on exercise they smelled like the back end of a patisserie for weeks!”
More laughter.
“Well,” Monty announced, hauling himself onto his feet and stretching. “I ought to go get some sleep; early morning and all that.”
“An early, difficult morning,” Jamie agreed, sighing. They pointed sternly at everyone else, “Don’t stay up to late.”
The two of them exited into the dark and cold, leaving only the three women behind. On their departure, Ronnie’s mood had instantly turned melancholic, more introspective.
“You alright, pigeon?” Anne asked her.
“Thinking,” Ronnie replied, looking into her cup. “I’m grateful to be here with you guys, and I love all of you, but… I’m still the last person from my garrison… All the others… Lieutenant Samson, Colby, Merrin… All dead that night, just me left to finish the job… Just, I… I don’t know, maybe wondering how I’ve managed to survive this long when I was so new…”
Elise shifted position, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Whether it’s skill, luck, or something else, don’t focus on why you’re still here, just that you are and that you’re going to use the time wisely; anything else will just drive you mad,” Elise told her gently. “Trust me, I know.”
Ronnie snorted.
“This is not a profession where faces tend to hang around for long,” Elise continued. “The first ones really suck, the next ones maybe not as much, but they all stick with you forever. You just have to… I don’t know, make peace with the fact that it happened and try to do right by them, whatever you think that means.”
The younger woman nodded slowly. “Elise…?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” Ronnie told her sincerely. “But don’t ever become a therapist.”
All three of them laughed, the mood broken.
“If you want to talk about it, try Jamie,” Anne suggested. “Remember, they lost their entire company that night too; they’ll know what you’re going through.”
Ronnie nodded.
“Right, beddy-byes for me I think,” she said, knocking back her dregs and standing up.
“Yeah, me too,” Elise agreed before Anne could say anything.
Coats were donned, gloves and scarfs, and they were out in the cold, Ronnie already separating to head back to her tent.
“Elise…” Anne said after the other woman, who was already pulling ahead through the falling snow in stony-faced determination. No response.
“Elise!” Anne said louder this time, floundering as she hit the fresh drifts.
“What?” Elise snapped, stopping and turning, a scowl on her face.
“Are you still going to ignore me?!” Anne asked.
“I don’t know! Yes!” Elise replied, turning in a huff.
“Look, I know I lied to you,” Anne started, using the opportunity to catch up, “But you have to see I did it because I care about you, you idiot!”
“You still lied to me!” Elise retorted. “Motives don’t change that you betrayed me!”
“I… I know that,” Anne admitted, deflating. “It was a bad decision, a stupid mistake, and I’ve been regretting it ever since it came out of my mouth…”
Elise’s frown deepened, though she kept quiet.
“I miss you,” Anne continued. “I just want things to go back to how they were before.”
The frown deepened even further and Elise rounded on the other woman. “I don’t know what you Outback bumpkins do, but where I’m from we don’t let people off the hook so easily when they break our trust!”
“Outback bumpkins!” Anne scoffed. “I may not have been born with a silver spoon up my arse, or gone to an expensive twat-factory of a university, but I know that normal people believe in forgiveness!”
Elise’s eyebrows just about shot off the top of her head. “You bitch.”
“Cow,” Anne snapped back.
They stared at each other for a moment, in deadlock, then almost simultaneously broke into fits of deep, guffawing laughter, continuing like this, almost doubling over in stitches, for a full five minutes. When the fits subsided, their expressions were softer, their hearts less hard.
“I’m still a bit angry… I’m still a bit hurt…” Elise told her softly. “But I think I’m ready to forgive you.”
Anne nodded, a little too eagerly.
“Just… Don’t do it again, alright?” Elise asked. “I’m a big girl, can tie my shoe laces and everything, so let me deal with my own emotions… Got that?”
Another nod.
Elise gave her a scrutinising look, rolled her eyes, then opened her arms. Without hesitation, Anne rushed forwards, flinging her arms around Elise and burying her face in her shoulder. Elise hugged her back, tight and safe.
“I really did miss you…” Anne said, muffled by Elise’s coat.
“Good grief woman, we’ve only known each other for what, two months?” Elise replied wryly.
“It’s felt like ten…” Anne argued.
“Maybe longer,” Elise admitted. “I missed you too.”
Anne hugged her a little tighter, then reluctantly let go. “Let’s get inside, it’s freezing.”
Elise nodded and the two of them continued the icy walk back to their tent.
“Big day tomorrow,” Anne commented.
“Big day,” Elise agreed.
“What’s going to happen…?”
Elise opened her mouth then shut it again. Anne probably wasn’t talking about the grand strategy or anticipated manoeuvres. “What’s going to happen, is that one way or another, this is going to be over; we have a second chance to end this and we need to do our best not to squander it.”
Quietly, slowly, Anne nodded.
“Well, I’m a fan of second chances right now,” she pointed out as they unzipped their tent and sequestered themselves in the gloom. They had still been sharing it during these last few days, though a wall had been up between them, just going about their separate business without so much as a word. “Just make sure to come back, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” Elise replied neutrally, stripping her outer clothes and getting into the warmth of her sleeping bag with great haste.
“You better,” Anne told her, doing the same with her own. “Who else is going to buy me dinner if you die?”
“Is that all I’m good for? A free meal?” Elise lamented, with enough melodrama to show she was in on the joke.
“Hmm, I suppose you have other qualities,” Anne admitted, just enough of her face free so she could try and see the shape of the other woman in the near-complete darkness.
“Go on,” Elise prompted.
“Egotist,” Anne snorted.
“Hey, who needs to make up what to who?” Elise pointed out.
“Blackmail!” Anne replied with mock horror.
“Yes yes, I’m despicable, hurry up with the compliments.”
Anne snorted. “Fine. Some might say you’re a skilled MechWarrior.”
“Please. You can do better than that.”
“You’re brave, maybe insanely so.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re smart, you’re good with people, you know how to improvise.”
“More please.”
“Seriously?” Anne said.
“Yes.”
“Ugh, you—.”
“Careful now.”
“Ugh. Right. You’re usually kind, often selfless, and… cute when you smile… I guess….”
There was a silence after that last one, which had Anne lying in the dark, listening to the soft patter of snow on the canvas, wondering if she’d fatally overstepped.
“Shame I’ve not had more reasons to smile…” Elise eventually said, her voice quieter, her bravado gone.
“Yeah, it is,” Anne replied softly.
“Well I promise to smile when I take you to dinner,” Elise said resolutely. “If you behave.”
Anne snorted. “You better not back out of that one then.”
“If you behave,” Elise repeated, though both of them knew there was only one way she wouldn’t be able to keep to that particular plan.
Silence settled, both of them musing on what was to come. What was unavoidable, this shatter point of fate where anything could happen and the consequences would be far-reaching no matter which way their luck fell.
“Anne?” Elise said eventually.
“Yeah…?”
“Come here.”
Without asking for a reason, Anne shuffled her way across the tent, wormlike and undignified in her sleeping bag, until she was only a few inches from Elise.
“Closer,” Elise told her, softly.
Anne moved, hesitantly at first, until they were touching through the thick layers of fabric. She could smell the bland, military-issue shampoo in Elise’s hair, feel the heat of her breath in the scant space between them. Their foreheads touched in the darkness, their noses, then their lips in one single perfectly imperfect moment in the darkness, a bright spark in the cold night.
It was a single thing then done, the two of them settling down to snatch what sleep they could. There could have been more to be said or more things to enact but they settled on that, for at least one night, they would be close to each other, no matter what the next day might bring.
Wondering if there's going to be a moment where Ronnie has to deal with a Saladin in some kind of high-speed game of chicken...
If anything can play a game of chicken, it's a Locust! :p
Ugh, I hate to fight Saladins, they are so mean!
They really are nasty little things!