DURHAM RESIDENCE

TIBSHELF

GILLINGHAM

FEDERATED SUNS

00:46, 18 April 3044

Elise woke to the sound of sirens, their wailing dirge echoing through her unconsciousness and pulling her back out of the darkness, firing neurons programmed from years of training and experience so that she was acting even before she was fully awake.

They told her the base was under attack and she scrambled to her feet, nearly falling from the sofa she had slept on fully-clothed. She cast around, the living room nearly pitch black save for a flickering glow filtering through the curtained window, desperately looking for her cooling vest and neurohelmet.

They were right here… they were…

“OW, son of a-!” she bashed her shin on the coffee table, the pain enough to let her brain catch up with her body.

There was no neurohelmet, there was no cooling vest, and there was definitely no BattleMech to go to. She had resigned her commission four years ago, after the war, and hadn’t worn either of those things since. Habit was a poweful thing…

She frowned.

The sirens were still there.

Going over to the window, she cautiously twitched the thin fabric aside, eyes widening when she looked upon the outside world.

Tibshelf was burning. All lights were off – street lamps, buildings, everything – the only source of illumination being a number of fires that raged out of control, even the view from her small three-story building was curtailed by drifting banks of dirty black smoke that coiled and drifted into the night sky.

Under the sirens she thought she could hear screams. She thought she could hear gunfire.

Elise backed away from the window, hands shaking and face sweating. She had come here to get away from war, to run away from her worst memories, but it had followed her. Even a backwater dirtball like Gillingham was apparently not immune to the worst that the Inner Sphere had to offer. It almost didn’t seem real.

After she being let go by Wyatt she had come straight home and curled up on the sofa, lost in a deep malaise until sleep had claimed her, switching off her communicator so avoid being bothered by Aiden and the others.

Aiden! Elise dove into a pocket, fumbling as she pulled out the little device – a few years out of date like most things here – and waited for it to turn on.

“Come on, come on, come on…” she muttered through clenched teeth as it cycled through a welcome message, its small screen a blindingly bright square.

“Shit…” No signal. Whatever had taken out the power cut off communications too.

An explosion boomed startlingly close, only a couple of streets away, rattling the window and causing Elise to drop her communicator. She closed her eyes, breath shuddering and heart hammering, desperate to regain some sort of control.

“Get a grip, girl,” she hissed, channelling her father in that moment. “Build a wall, put yourself inside, and deal with it later…”

That man was responsible for half the successes in her life and half the problems. Not exactly warm, he had been a great believer in drive and ambition, forcing her to excel at any cost, to chisel greatness out of the unhewn rock that had been his only daughter. It had worked, for a time, propelling her through the NAIS and AFFS, making her an effective soldier and commander. It had also left her emotionally repressed, unable to form connections and – when the walls finally came tumbling down after Sadalbari – absolutely unequipped to deal with her own feelings and the things she had witnessed, to the point of breaking.

Now war had come to Gillingham, now her friends and her home were in danger, she had no idea what to do. Her instincts were screaming to get into a cockpit, but there wasn’t one to go to – not even an IndustrialMech any more.

She took a few deep breaths like a therapist had once told her, trying to steady her rhythm, desperate to get her heart – to get herself – back under control. She was going to build her walls, put that vulnerable part of her away like her father had taught, but she would leave a door unlocked. Her feelings, her trauma, were there and she would never shut them away completely again. They were an inextricable part of her but right now she needed to act.

Elise was a bit calmer now, a faint numbness settling over her, the pallor of her skin and a slight tremble in her hands the only stigmata of the extreme self control she was exerting just to keep upright.

One step at a time. She needed to go and find Aiden.

She hurried to her bedroom, muscle memory allowing her to avoid tripping over the obstacle course of untended washing, and retrieved her pistol from inside her bedside cabinet.

The Serrek 7875D was a little more expensive than most on the market but it was solid, reliable, and exactly like the one she had been issued in the service. Holding it in her hand was a strange feeling, like an old friend that you knew was a bad influence on you.

Familiar. Unsettling. Dangerous.

She had never thought she would need it.

Elise ensured the safety was on then stuffed the pistol into her waistband, making sure it was covered and, after listening carefully at the door, slipped out into the hallway. This floor had three apartments on either side of a long corridor with a window at one end and a set of stairs at the other. Her apartment was near the window and she instinctively shied away, running towards Aiden’s door, down towards the other side.

Voices were coming up the stairs, agitated and concerned, the downstairs neighbours clearly woken by the sirens and discussing what was going on.

With a closed fist, Elise pounded on Aiden’s door, her anxiety increasing with every second there was no answer.

“Shit…” she muttered. “Where are you…?”

Even though it was a Wednesday night, an evening at Gem’s Bar could turn into a prolonged session if the guys lost track of time, which was even more likely when sports were being streamed from out of the time zone. He must still be there.

Elise looked out of the window showing little more than a dirty orange glow.

If it’s still standing…

A deep breath – in and out – then she was bolting down the stairs, taking them two at a time, ignoring the clustered knots of anxious residents on the lower floors, making her way through the dilapidated lobby and out into the town.

Hell had truly come to Tibshelf. Out in the open, the smell of smoke was rancid and cloying, irritating the lungs even if it was not yet enough to affect her breathing, and the heat of the fires was enough to dispel any chill in the air despite the nearest being one street over. There was no sign of anyone trying to fight the fires, nor the constables or militia, and her street was deserted save for a few parked groundcars.

Gunfire rang out, overlapping echoes making it hard to pinpoint the direction. Small arms, some kind of ballistic pistol or rifle.

Then another shot rang out, causing Elise to freeze. It was the unmistakable crash of a high-calibre autocannon.

There were BattleMechs here, or at the very least some kind of combat vehicle. She squinted up at the skyline, searching for a hint of dark shapes moving behind the smoke and flames, but to no avail. Hopefully it was the militia.

Something told her it might not be.

“What the hell is going on?” she whispered, her voice beginning to crack.

Nothing about this was right, but any mysteries would have to wait for later. So, mustering what reserves of courage she had, she began to run down the street, hugging the buildings to better avoid being spotted.

MOON STREET

TIBSHELF

GILLINGHAM

FEDERATED SUNS

00:50, 18 April 3044

The streets were deserted.

Despite the noises she could hear – shouts, gunfire, screams – they always seemed to be happening elsewhere, only damaged buildings and discarded bodies left behind. It was like Elise was trapped in one of her nightmares, but a new one divorced of her experiences. She almost wished an enemy would present themselves, just to give a focus for her anxiety, something to at the very least run away from. Right now she felt so helpless, dragged into something beyond her control.

So this is what being a civilian in a war zone feels like? She laughed, a single humourless cough. She had been brought up in the belief that war was something to be gloried, something that you inflicted on a deserving enemy, and any thoughts about the little people caught up in it all had never crossed her mind.

Maybe it was penance. Maybe she had died in her sleep and finally been dragged to hell.

No, she scolded. No, this is awful but this is real.

She needed to find Aiden and anyone else she could.

And then what? a rebellious voice argued.

I don’t know, I’ll figure it out!

She almost laughed again, arguing with herself, and would have joked about finally cracking if she didn’t know it had already happened years ago.

Then, one street over from Gem’s, she rounded a corner and finally found her enemy.

There were two of them facing away from her, the dim light revealing that they wore a patchwork of armour like individual pieces had been scavenged from different sources, over loose fatigues the colour of which was impossible to tell. A lack of definable uniform and the ramshackle nature of their clothing told her these were probably pirates, or at most mercenaries on the lower end of budget and morality.

Tibshelf may not have had the defence forces of a core world but it still had a citizen militia that would muster in times like these – hence the siren – and even a lance of barely-functional BattleMechs to deter an attack on the DropPort or the mines. Neither of which were anywhere to be seen.

They had rifles slung across their backs and they were pulling at a bundle or something on the ground, dragging it to one side of the street. If Elise was fast and quiet, she could dart across the road behind them and into the alleyway opposite, maybe make it to the bar without being seen.

She took a breath and readied herself, almost ready to go when she heard the bundle emit a very human scream.

Elise closed her eyes and grit her teeth. Part of her wanted to run anyway, to make good use of this distraction, but… what was it she had said about penance?

She drew her pistol, thumbing the safety, clinging to the grip with white-knuckled fingers, and advanced slowly behind the two pirates – because whatever they considered themselves to be, that was what they were – waiting until she was only a handful of metres away before making her presence known.

“Put it down and turn around! Now!” she barked. Years in a command role had given her the ability to be especially loud and authoritative when she wanted to be. It’s not something that faded easily, and even after all these years it came to her as naturally as breathing.

The two pirates dropped their captive in surprise and span around. Their faces were obscured by respirators crudely fashioned into the likeness of snarling, tooth-filled mouths by paint and shards of glued on metal glinting in the firelight.

There was a moment of hesitation where the situation teetered on a knife-edge, a confluence of possible futures that came crashing down when one of them quickly reached for their gun.

It was instinctive, the way Elise pulled the trigger, she hadn’t even thought about it. Two sharp squeezes was all it took, one bullet taking the nearest pirate in the arm and the other square in the chest. They staggered, falling to the ground with an explosive gasp of pain as the other scrambled for their weapon, moving to try and put some distance between them.

Elise had been a MechWarrior, not infantry, so her marksmanship was only “good” at best and even then only in relationship to stationary, non-living targets. Her success with the first pirate had only been thanks to surprise and the small distance between them.

Despite this fact, and despite the flashes and anxiety, the adrenaline of the situation had her feeling sharper than she had felt in years.

She hated that this was what it took.

A first shot at the other one went wide, careering off into the darkness, and a second brought up a chunk of road off to their left. The pirate had their rifle unslung now and was aiming it at her, slowing their walk to carefully place the shot.

The report of a rifle echoed across down the street.

A bullet shattered the pirate’s respirator on the left eye, passing through with predictable results. They crumpled like a sack of tubers.

Elise turned in shock. The person the pirates had been assaulting was a woman, mid to late twenties, with hair in a messy bob, its light colouring turned rusty by the glow of flames. She wore a long coat and messenger bag over some kind of uniform, sported a furious expression, and held the first pirate’s rifle – a battered old Federated Long – like she knew how to use it.

“Thanks for the help,” she said to Elise, outward confidence betrayed by a slight edge to her voice and the too-wide set of her eyes.

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” was all Elise could manage to say. “You military?”

The woman smiled, a hint of wry amusement cracking through the fear.

“God no, I’m the district nurse, but there’s bugger all else to do out in Sheafton except hunt clawbirds,” she explained. “Name’s Anne.”

Clawbirds were two metre tall bird-like creatures native to Gillingham. Naturally flightless, they had powerful legs and – as the name suggested – wicked claws. Though dumber than a sack of rocks, they posed a deadly threat to domestic livestock and people who lived in their habitats had open leave to cull the population by any means necessary.

“Oh, I’m Elise,” said Elise. “Powerman operator, uh, former I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” Anne replied. She was still holding the rifle, keeping half an eye on her surroundings and half an eye on Elise, her body language wary. “You need your leg looking at?”

“Huh?”

Anne nodded to Elise’s lower half. “The limp.”

“Oh, no, that’s old news,” Elise tried to sound breezy, hoping Anne wouldn’t want to go into details. She hadn’t even noticed she was doing it. “Where you off to? Might be best to stick together, all things considered.”

The nurse mulled it over, eyes narrowed, then nodded sharply.

“Sure,” she replied. “I was just out to see if I could help anyone out, but then it looked like I was the one needing help.”

She seemed annoyed at that.

“Hey, you helped me too,” Elise pointed out. “Guess we’re even.”

Anne’s expression softened.

“I guess. Where you headed anyway?”

“Bar one street over, looking for a friend,” Elise explained. “Better get going before any more of these guys turn up.”

Anne nodded, looking down at the first pirate, muffled groans coming from behind their respirator. For a moment, Elise thought the nurse was going to stop to help them – professional obligation or whatever – but she just looked away without a gram of compassion in her eyes.

“Go on then,” she urged Elise.

So much for trust, Elise grimaced, deciding it was for the best. Her new companion might not have known the way to Gem’s Bar, and even if she did, this way she wouldn’t be able to see how much Elise’s hands were shaking and how much she wanted to throw up. Combat in a ‘Mech was so much different to that unmounted, the exchange of blows rendered impersonal and exaggerated by the artificial bodies of the gigantic war machines. Horrific damage, enough to obliterate entire platoons, would not have broken through the armour of her old Victor, and even when it did…

-with both hands and pulled the ejection le-

Elise shook the memory out of her head, hoping the gloom of the alleyway hid the motion from Anne. She didn’t want the woman to think of her as a liability.

Why should I care? she wondered, settling on the idea that after rescuing the nurse she was now Elise’s responsibility, even though she could clearly look after herself. To a certain extent. Safety in numbers maybe? Or maybe this is just another piece of bullshit penance…

So lost in an argument with herself, she nearly lost track of where she was, sighting a couple of landmarks on the street that made her realise she was in exactly the right place.

Only Gem’s Bar wasn’t there.

In its place was the shell of a building, all sense of its previous charm and decoration obliterated by the raging inferno that was greedily consuming it. This was a place that had held so many happy memories for her, happier than anything that had lingered from the life before. It had been the first place she had stopped off in when coming into town, where she had met Aiden after asking around about jobs, and where she had spent so much time off ever since. Hell, she had probably spent more waking hours there than at home.

Now it was just… gone, and that one fact above all others made this attack seem ever so much more real.

“Maybe your friend got out…?” Anne suggested, moving to stand beside her. Her voice was softer than it had been, the hard edge peeling away to show a bit of empathy.

“I…” Elise faltered. “Maybe…”

She wanted to believe that was true, even if evidence was piling up to the contrary. It seemed all the good things in her life were being snatched away again. Her job, her home, and now her best friend.

“What now?” Anne asked. “Got anywhere else you need to be?”

“We… we need to get somewhere safe.”

Anne gave her a look. “In case you haven’t noticed, that doesn’t give us many options around here.”

Grinding her jaw as frustration and grief threatened to spill over, Elise pulled one of her best Annoyed Expressions from the shelf, the kind that had been reserved for the more disobedient of her old company; it could make someone twice her size cower like a scolded dog.

The nurse held her ground and, so disarmed, Elise was first to look away.

“The militia compound is a couple of blocks over,” she suggested, “It’s the only building in this town not a pre-fab crapheap or made of timber; should be a bit more secure.”

Anne looked in that direction, towards the DropPort.

“You realise most of them are that way, right?” she said. “And that they have ‘Mechs?”

Elise followed her gaze, frowning, both glad and disturbed to have her suspicions confirmed. They shouldn’t have been able to unpack ‘Mechs and get them battle-ready without giving the town early warning about what was going on. Unless…

“I’m such an idiot…” she hissed.

Anne cocked an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“The Danais…” Elise began to explain. “The… the DropShip the pirates came down in, it’s not a Danais at all… I should have recognised it… Idiot…”

“What is it then?” Anne asked, with the patience of someone waiting on the ramblings of a small child.

Elise rounded on her, eliciting a small flinch and a deeper frown. “A Union!” she hissed. Then, seeing her blank expression, “A ‘Mech carrier! Could be as many as twelve of them here! We don’t stand a chance!”

“I should h-” Elise began to say, but she was interrupted by the sound of a groundcar being crushed down the road, followed by an immense shadow moving out from behind one of the taller buildings.

During their conversation, it looked like the a ‘Mech had found them anyway.