NEAR TIBSHELF

BLUE MOUNTAINS

GILLINGHAM

FEDERATED SUNS

15:10, 01 JUNE 3044

Juliette Espinosa trudged through the piles of powdery snow, doing her best to keep to the trails of animals, or where the cover of the trees naturally made it thinner on the ground. It was an easy way to obscure her tracks and she knew that behind her, the rest of her squad was doing the same, following in her footsteps with exacting precision.

Every crunch out of place, every snap of a concealed twig, sounded like a gunshot in the quiet woods. Espinosa had hunted in these lands since she was old enough to hold a rifle, deer and rabbits mostly, though the occasional dire fox if a juvenile got a taste for livestock.

Now she was hunting something far bigger and infinitely more dangerous.

Last night’s snowfall had muted some of her prey’s tracks, leaving only soft divots where there had previously been obvious shapes, blending into the undulating, irregular terrain. There were other ways to hunt regardless: thick branches snapped in high boughs, the patina scraped off ancient boulders, traces of paint and metal gleaming against the pristine winter canvas.

Sound was a dead giveaway too, a distant crashing and clunking that was muffled by the rows of trees but not enough to hide the presence of the metres-tall machines bulling their way through the precious cover. After a couple of days of hunting — Captain Walters had most of the infantry out on a desperate last intelligence-gathering mission — it became clear these newcomers had adapted to the conditions well enough, moving at night where they could to conceal their presence.

It also slowed them down. Running lights dimmed, far from town, walking under the cloudy skies of early winter, anyone would need to tread carefully to avoid turning an ankle on a hidden rock or walking straight into a tree, and a BattleMech was no exception.

Espinosa’s unit had the luxury of moving during the day, small enough and quiet enough that they wouldn’t be noticed. If they could sneak up on where their prey was camped — she was sure they hadn’t yet veered towards town — then they would get a good idea of what they were dealing with. They might even have an opportunity to cause some damage before they finally withdrew.

A bird call came from behind her. A blue oriole by the sounds of it, common in these parts but far out of season for the time of year. She stopped moving and looked around, knowing her troopers would stop when she did. Most of them were looking about, alert and cautious, apart from Grigori, who was intently meeting her eye.

He’d been the one to give the signal, that he’d spotted something of interest.

Girgori cradled his rifle, gloved hands flicking through the complex series of gestures for “tracks” and “tank” then pointing off to the right.

Espinosa nodded, remembered her bulky cold-weather clothing concealed the movement, then stuck a thumb up before gesturing him to take the lead.

Grigori returned the gesture, resumed a proper grip on his gun, then began to prowl forwards, at a right angle to their original course. The rest of the squad flowed in behind him, like water down a pipe, sticking to his footprints. Though they were now leaving a trace of their presence, it would be hard to tell their numbers.

They moved deeper into the forest, soon coming across a section where the trees were more sparse despite it, the ground a little flatter. Some kind of armoured vehicle — or perhaps vehicles — had taken advantage of the clearer path to nose a winding way through the obstacles, roughly parallel to the course taken by the BattleMechs, and at roughly the same time judging by the depth of the tracks. With it highly unlikely that the two groups would have missed each other, Espinosa could only assume they were part of the same force.

Armoured vehicles and BattleMechs. Seemed like the pirates were out in force again.

Espinosa grimaced, concerned at the development but glad it wouldn't be their problem for much longer. They just needed to get eyes on the numbers and makeup of the force, link back up with L.T.’s squad at the old Goodwin place, then make the long trek back to their hidden camp.

Then civilisation. She had almost forgotten what a hot shower felt like. One of the first things she was going to do when they withdrew to Arrow Town was just immerse herself in warmth for as long as she could.

In the meantime, however…

She glanced at the sky, already growing dim as the low sun became obscured by high mountains, at her chronometer to confirm the time, then gestured for her squad to follow. It would be easier for them to hide their presence on the continuous tracks than the big steps of the ‘Mechs.

One foot after another. One thing left to do before they could leave.

16:30

The night was nearly upon them, the trees like shadowy sentinels beneath clouds that glowed with the last gasp of daylight seeping its way over the ancient barriers of the valley walls. Visibility was falling and the temperature was going with it, threatening the viability of the operation and putting a most definite time limit on Espinosa’s task.

But, she had them, she was sure of it. She had finally found her prey.

The tracks had taken a turn away from Tibshelf, heading further up into the mountains, towards some of the higher valleys less covered by trees but still problematic to pass through because of the snow. It might have been this force had been searching for an out-of-the-way camp in which to pass the day, or more likely hoping they would stumble across the militia in a far-too-obvious place.

No matter. Espinosa had them. The tracks were fresher now, deeper and more defined, merging into one as both ‘Mechs and combat vehicles followed the same great furrow. It looked like one of the ‘Mechs had acted as a sort of snow plough, bulling its way through the drifts with its great shins, clearing a path for its fellows – and the less mobile tanks – to follow on behind.

The furrow had taken the long way, passing around a high rocky ridge to get to their destination, a ridge that Espinosa and her squad were now clambering up, doing their best to keep low lest they accidentally silhouette themselves against the sky.

Squeezing down as far as she could, Espinosa peeked over the top of the ridge, uncaring of the wind that chafed at her exposed skin and flicked wisps of snow against her goggles.

She was right.

Down in the shallow valley were four BattleMechs, three of them hunched and silent whilst a fourth watched the entrance with statue-like patience, occasionally pivoting silently on its torso axis. It was instantly recognisable even to her as a Catapult, stocky and birdlike, by itself heavier than anything they had left. Espinosa didn’t know enough about ‘Mechs to know about the other three, more humanoid in their bearing, but immediately saw the lance of Goblin medium tanks, parked in a neat row. All of the machines had been painted in an off-white winter camouflage, hastily by the looks of things, as she could see patches where the original, darker paint showed through.

In the shadow of the tanks, infantry and crewmen were striking camp, busying themselves in an orderly manner, as fast and efficiently as the conditions allowed.

Four ‘Mechs, four tanks, and at least a couple of squads worth of infantry. More than enough to wipe out the Militia once and for all. Espinosa needed to get this information to the Captain and do it quickly. They needed to withdraw before the option was taken from them for good.

She was about to give the order when she heard the telltale crunch of boots on snow from further along the ridge, on the higher slope of one of the mountains that cradled the valley. Head snapping up, she instantly saw the pair of infantry – probably on a patrol route – that had rounded a set of snow-frosted boulders, left behind in the last ice-age. They were dressed in mismatched cold weather gear, and like their vehicles were haphazardly white-washed in a hasty attempt at camouflage.

They stood stock still, surprise evident in their body language, and likewise Espinosa’s team were frozen for a brief tense moment.

Then, everyone went for their guns.

GOODWIN MANOR

BLUE MOUNTAINS

GILLINGHAM

FEDERATED SUNS

18:51, 01 JUNE 3044

The old house was like a tomb, draughty and silent, dark as death and colder than oblivion. Nevertheless, Everett mused, it was nice to have a proper roof over his head and four solid walls to keep out the worst of it. Operational security meant they needed to keep light and heat to a bare minimum, with no way of knowing if the enemy had any thermal imaging scanners with them or not, with only either being allowed in the manor’s scant few internal rooms that had no windows. 

One of these was the spacious pantry, its shelves pushed to the side and plundered of what contents were still safe enough to eat by the standards of a bunch of underfed infantry – with Mister Goodwin’s blessing of course. It was their little island of semi-comfort, an oasis in a desert of miserable grey, where there was an echo of camaraderie and even the occasional burst of laughter cut short by the memory of where they were.

“The whole thing?!” Cochran goggled as Pitmann finished a particularly bawdy story.

The other soldier leaned back against a wall, her big arms folded and a smug expression across her face.

“The whole thing.”

Moreno shook their head and snorted while the young volunteer just stared, struggling to grasp what he had just heard.

Everett himself, meanwhile, pushed himself wearily to his feet and tried to stretch the stiffness out of his joints. A futile effort but a man’s got to try.

“Going to check in with the sentries, see what’s going on,” he announced, trying to sound matter-of-fact and not show an ounce of the worry he felt. Espinosa’s team should have been back an hour ago.

“Alright, we’ll hold the fort,” Pitmann waved. The lot of them were good fighters. Loyal. Surprisingly effective. But they weren’t soldiers.

“Get some rest,” Everett pointed. “You’re going on watch next.”

“Boo!” Pitmann groaned, only half-joking.

Everett shot her a look then shook his head, making his way out of the pantry, opening the door as little as possible to keep in the scant heat and light. Out in the kitchen the old house felt almost hostile, full of darkness cut by pools of grey near the large windows, allowing him to just about make out the shapes of furniture once his eyes adjusted.

He padded along carefully, sticking to the inside wall where he could, following the now-familiar route up to the second storey, avoiding the sections of floor he now knew creaked, until he came to a bedroom on the front of the house, its uncurtained windows looking down on the long driveway. It seemed empty, abandoned for years rather than weeks, only the lump of tangled bedding on a bare mattress any clue people had been here.

Lingering in the doorway, Everett gently tapped on the door a sequence that was the designated code. The lump of bedding shifted its focus from the window.

“That you, chief?” it said in Duffy’s voice.

“Yeah, got anything?” he replied.

“Not a leaf out of place,” Duffy replied. “And no sign of Espinosa’s lot either,” he added before Everett could open his mouth again.

“Hrm,” Everett grunted.

“They could have just got delayed following a trail, you know how she gets,” Duffy offered, not really sounding like he believed it either.

“Yeah, maybe,” Everett played along, looking at the window like Espinosa would just jump magically into view. “Carry on then I guess, Pitmann will be relieving you at half past.”

“Lucky me,” Duffy drawled.

“Would you rather stay here all night?”

No word from the bed.

“Yeah, thought not,” Everett added, shaking his head and turning to go.

“Contact,” Duffy hissed, showing he hadn’t been ignoring him.

Everett crabbed over next to the bed, slipping his pocket scope from a pouch and training it on the wide expanse of drive and garden, making small adjustments to get the landscape in focus. Despite this, he still found it difficult to resolve any details, the cloudy night leaving a muted silver glow of filtered moonlight even with the reflective quality of the snow.

“Where?” he hissed back.

“Edge of the woods, about mid-way towards the gate there,” Duffy explained. “I count four– no, five infantry moving forwards.”

“I don’t…” Everett grumbled, sweeping back and forwards until… “Okay, right, I’ve got them.” There were six shadowy figures, cautiously advancing from the treeline, followed by a seventh to make the complete squad. “Now who the hell are you?”

“Want me to take a shot?” Duffy asked. No doubt he had drawn a bead perfectly on one of the infantry, ready for an instant kill-shot.

“No, let’s not tip our hand just yet,” Everett warned. He swept his scope a bit further out, limited in range of view by being so far back from the window. Passing back over the trees towards the gate, he spotted the unmistakable, blocky form of some kind of armoured vehicle slowly chugging its way through the undisturbed snow. “There! Tank at the entrance!”

Duffy shifted, moving his rifle to have a look. A click of the tongue. “Shall we get the SRMs out?”

Everett snorted. As fun as it would be to get the manpack launchers out of their stash in one of the walk-in closets and cause some noise, that would really give away their position.

“Better not,” he replied, his amusement souring when another tank came up after the first. He was now really starting to get worried about what had happened to Espinosa. When a third tank appeared, he knew it was time to make a difficult decision.

“Right, this position is no longer tenable,” he said grimly. “You go inform Robles at the back, I’ll get the others; we’ll meet in the kitchen and head out over the garden to trees and make our way to Fallback Point Two.”

“Got it,” Duffy replied, slithering out of the covers and onto the floor without creating a silhouette against the window.

Everett retraced his steps back to the unit’s pantry haven with more haste than previously, catching his leg on a stray piece of furniture more than once with a burst of muted swears, leaving him less than calm when he finally burst through the door.

“Gather up and go!” he snapped at the quartet of surprised faces, some bleary from desperately-snatched sleep. “Vehicle lance and infantry support moving on our position! Move!”

Soldiers they might not be, but they had survived enough to get an appropriate sense of urgency. They were immediately moving before he had even finished the word, stuffing their packs as quickly as they could and pulling on their outer clothes. In a minute flat they were ready to go, leaving anything not worth carrying, and hustling into the kitchen where the shadows of Duffy and Robles were waiting for them.

“Go go go!” Everett hissed impatiently, ushering them towards the back door, Duffy taking point. The bitter night air was like a slap in the face after the relative shelter of the house, forcing him to pull his scarf a bit further up and wish he’d taken the time to put on his goggles. 

Carefully closing the door, they began a hasty retreat over the long expanse of at the rear of the house, a hundred metres of open terrain before they hit the inviting darkness of the distant treeline. Every crunching footfall and hiss of exerting lungs was nerve-wrackingly loud to their straining ears, and the trail they left behind would be painfully obvious to anyone that came to look.

Now was a time for speed, not caution however. Everett could hear the rumbling ICEs getting closer and closer. The tanks might struggle to follow through the woods but those infantry sure wouldn’t. It was likely that Espinosa and her team got caught, at least one of them surviving long enough for the location of their camp to be… extracted out of them.

He hoped that wasn’t the case and that this was just a sweep of the area — the house was hard to miss after all. He knew he was being naïve, but hope was all they had left nowadays.

They blundered into the first deeper darkness under the eaves, taking a precious moment to regain their breath after the intense struggle of trying to run through half a metre-thick undisturbed snow. Behind them were a series of shouts, call and refrain, reports being passed along.

“Goddamn… pirates…” Pitmann wheezed.

“Oh god… Oh god…” Cochran whined.

“Shut up both of you,” Everett snapped, perhaps too harshly. 

They weren’t out of the woods yet — he almost laughed aloud at the thought — and they needed to pick their way through the pitch black to get to a cabin that was a two hours hike when they couldn’t see where they were going. 

He’d definitely experienced better odds.

“Something’s wrong…” Robles whispered tensely.

Everyone was immediately on edge — more so than before, if possible — as they scanned the trees.

Then, one of the trees began to move, a great shadow detaching from the rest to begin moving towards them in great thumping strides. A faint glow marked out the shape of what might have been a head, a cockpit’s running lights shining through.

Everett’s blood ran cold as the snow around him.

BattleMech.

“Bugger me…” Moreno squeaked.

“Back up, back up…” Everett hissed. If it had seen them they’d already be dead. They might be able to skirt around it if they didn’t get stepped on.

A crash over to the left as another ‘Mech blundered its way out into the open. To the right, there was the whir of actuators, betraying the position of a third as it shifted position. 

Shit shit shit… This had gone from bad to worse. Talk about frying pans and fire.

“Wait…” he whispered, hoping the others could hear him. “Wait…”

The first ‘Mech stomped past, missing them by only a couple of metres as it entered the manor grounds. This was their opening.

“Go!”

Everett led the charge, putting caution to the wind as he began to run, knees up to get through the thick snow. He was moving on instinct, focussing on putting as much distance between him and the pirates as possible before worrying about things like direction. Heart pounding, his head snapped around as the third ‘Mech crashed after the other two. 

They might actually do this.

They just needed to keep going.

They had to warn the others what was coming.

Everett threw up his arms when a sudden brightness engulfed him, like the sun had come up just to point in his face. 

With a sinking feeling he realised he had forgotten the basic tenet of military organisation: ‘Mechs always came in fours. The last one was lost behind the searchlight that transfixed him and his squad, a monster of death that didn’t even give them the satisfaction of showing them the form that would snuff them out.

Around the fringes of the pool of light smaller figures edged closer, highlights glinting on raised weapons, stark shadows cast on mismatched fatigues coloured pale so as to blend in with the snow.

Everett dropped his rifle and held out his hands.

At least, he mused, he was going to be killed by something with a face.

BlunderingAlbatross

Back again with an infantry focussed one! And now no more infantry! The defenders are going to be in big trouble, aren't they? :c

 

Battletech and Mechwarrior are copyright of Catalyst Game Labs.

 

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