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Post by Dr. Jessica Saturina on Oct 16, 2005 11:24:10 GMT -5
We were racing toward Gellen's Heights. We could see the battle mechs ahead of us, only because they were so big. I didn't know what was going on, because we seen people in vehicles and other modes of transportation leaving Gellen's Heights toward site 187.
At this point I had not been informed of anything. I was just going into the battle head first not really knowing anything. I was sure they would need us. The atmosphere in the MIT was silent and tense. Everyone was getting ready to go into what, we didn't know. This appeared to be some random attack on Gellen's Heights and there had been no briefings or plans. We were all flying blind.
"Archangel to Nightingale, what do you see up there Alice?"
There was no answer. I tried again but still nothing but static. This was not good. I wondered if I would be able to get a hold of anyone else.
"Archangel to Legionnaires units, can anyone tell us what we are going into out there? Does anyone know what's happening, if we are headed in the right direction. We are heading toward Gellen's Heights."
I waited patiently, to see if someone, anyone, hopefully one of the Commanders would let us know what was going on and where we should be.
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Post by Captain Adam "Gunman" Wolf on Oct 16, 2005 13:06:05 GMT -5
I watched as the members of Guardian lance began a tactical retreat, Garland's ShadowHawk, and Thorn's Fafnir, began drawing out the enemy units as the backpedalled away, returning fire and cover the wounded Sentry that was now behind our lines and continueing its fleeing retreat to the base.
Spotting a Red Shift, a small 20 ton 'mech, minimal firepower, virtually no armour, but fast as all hell, with a running speed alone of over 95km/h, I targetted him with my standard targetting computer, the command console cockpit installed on my Hatamoto feeding additional information from a multitude of sub monitors. As the system automatically tracked the Red Shift, I noticed a Buccaneer making a low arc along the southern edge, drawing him precariously close to Blake's Zeus Assault 'mech, it appeared that the WoB pilot didnt even notice him, that was until a barrage of missiles narrowly missed and he seemed to finally come to terms with the prediciment he was in. Focusing my attention back on the Red Shift, I watched him pause for a moment in its flanking manouever, as if considering going to help his Buccaneer friend, but then continued on his original arc bringing him closer to my still cloaked 'mech.
Normally I would have outright engaged the first unit we had contact with, but this situation called for a breaking of the enemy morale just as much as it did the destruction of their 'mechs. With the WoB units engaging us they were cut off from their allies, not only by the destroyed building, but also from the ECM coverage emitted from each of our 'mechs. Their advanced C3i systems, if they happened to have them installed, were rendered useless with our ECM on, only the heavier, and thereby slower, Toyoma stayed just outside our ECM range, all the others were well inside it. I slowly moved my 'mech along the northern flank in an intercept course with the lone Red Shift, and eventually leading on an arc that would give me a clear firing angle at the Toyoma's right side and weaker rear armour. As I closed to within 180m of the Red Shift, I brought my left arm's twin Medium Heavy Lasers to bear on the poor Red Shift and fired.
Twin Amber beams of coherent light shot forth from the now partially visible and extremely distorted vision of the Hatamoto-Kaze Mk II. Living up to its name the twin beams seemed to mix together to form an oval shaped cylinder of destructive force which slammed home into the Red Shift's left torso, a single laser alone would have been enough to deccimate what little armour was mounted on the 'mech, but the force of the two beams together not only turned the armour into torrents of molten ferro-fibrous metal, but it wreaked havoc among the internals of the 'mech, the shots going just a touch high the beams merely wounded the XL engine mounted within the agile 'mech. As the armour on the back of the Red Shift's torso exploded outwards, similar to an archaic gunshot wound inflicted at close range, the fast 'mech stumbled forward its torso tilting viciously to the left side, giving a very ackward appearance to whole 'mech. As the pilot tried to get a lock on whatever shot it, I swung to the south and my right, down and around behind the 'mechs left side. Not wanting to create the excessive heat generated by the Large Heavy Laser I fired the single Medium in my right torso, the interferance caused by the unshielded capacitors causing the shot to go wide and severely damage the right arm. Armour dripping off like rainfall, the battered 'mech swung around still surprisingly agile despite its damage. Letting loose with a mini barrage of medium pulse lasers, the small bursts striking out into the air in an attempt to find me, several rounds impacting lightly against my left arm and both legs, the momentary contact comprising the null sig and showing the ghostly apparition of my 80-ton Assault 'mech mirrored against the burning city of Gellen's Heights on the horizon. Apparantely somethings are too much for even a fanatical Blakist to take, the 'mech immediately ceased fire and turned and run full tilt straight north, accelerating to top speed I tried to line up a shot, but the increasing distance and high speeds make my aim uneasy, not bothering to worry about the heat I fired the Large Heavy Laser at my target. The high heat output instantly made my 'mech more visible than ever as its ghastly apparition quickly turned into a clearly defined, semi-transparent image of Ryuuko Hinote. Fortunately the high energy beam struck the fleeing 'mech in the upper portion of the right leg, the armour melting away and the myomer muscles and actuators inside dissentracting as the impact forced the 'mech forward into a fall, the bottom portion of the leg severed off, the Red Shift plowed into the dirt immobile and quite cripple.
Quickly throttling back I switched off the Null Sig system just as I reached a point directly due north of the Toyoma, my 80 ton 'mech immediately showing up on everyone of their radar screens as the jamming from the Null Sig dissipated, although the Angel ECM still interfered with their targetting systems slightly. Locking on to the Toyoma, I let the large heat build up dissipate waiting for the moment to strike.
Archangel.. ********** ... its, can anyone .... ************* ... are going ********* Does anyone know what's happening, if we are headed in the right direction. We are heading towards Gellen's Heights.
The communication from Archangel was very garbled until they entered what must be the northwestern edge of our ECM coverage, then their transmission became clear as day. Looking around quickly and scanning the command console I saw that everyone else was still occupied for the most part, and not hearing anyone else respond yet I opened the comm channel and spoke.
Archangel this is Guardian-4, Captain Wolf, we're running a retreating screen right now for any ally units and are regrouping at our base. I advise you return with the M.A.S.H. unit to Site 187 and tend to the wounded that should be congregating there as we speak. There's a severely wounded Sentry Light 'mech making its way back now, should be passing you momentarily, head back with them and we'll meet you there. There's nothing you can do out here right now, the Blakists will just kill you if you try to enter the city.
We copy Guardian-4, are you positive we should head back to the base? What if there are people still out there that need help. Also have you heard from Nightingale? We can't raise them on the comm, they headed out to the city ahead of us and haven't heard from them yet.
No we haven't heard from Nightingale, we'll keep a lookout though, I'm sure they're just caught in the jamming field set up by the WoB. I'm positive you can't do any good out here right now, head back to Site 187, if there are still people out there I'll personal responsibility for it, we can't afford to have our only M.A.S.H. unit destroyed in a futile rescue attempt. You'll do more good back at the base. Over.
I had to agree with Archangel that there could be people out there, but we didnt know for sure, and we couldn't risk it. We had to get our assests organzied back at Site 187 before we could even think of launching a counter-offensive. Flipping the channel back over to Guardian lance, I again open the comm.
Guardian-1, this is Guardian-4, Archangel should be heading back to base to tend to the wounded there. They lost contact with Nightingale and wish us to keep and eye for them. With regards to the retreat, I'm going to circle behind that Toyoma and try to draw its fire.
Beginning the circle maneouver I moved my surprisingly agile, at least for an 80 ton 'mech, Assault class 'mech around towards the rear of the Toyoma, my heat levels just dropping to its lowest levels I prepared to open fire. If I could draw the Toyoma's attention, it would expose its weaker rear armour, hopefully to Thorn's superior firepower, and if I couldn't, well I would have access to its rear armour, and hopefully Thorn's Fafnir would be able to cover the Commander should he need it.
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Post by Assassin Saburo Kintaru on Oct 16, 2005 15:21:01 GMT -5
My scream echoed in my ears until a vicious swarm of black stars swooped in and obscured my vision. It was a combination of the drugs and the fear that had caused me to black out. It was becoming frighteningly obvious that Mr Chingely was becoming to get out of hand. I had never felt more lost in my life.
I awoke someplace soft, clean and smelling of far away bath soaps. At first glance, I had no idea where I was, but it didn’t take long for my senses to clear up. I was laying on my bed, a bath robe wrapped around me and my hair dripping wet. The air was hot and damp; I had soon realised the only form of illumination was coming the bathroom. The door was half open, letting out a crack of bright white light. I sat up, completely confused by what had happened. My confusion was soon cleared up.
[glow=red,2,300]“Don’t say I never take good care of you. Signed, Mr Chingley: Yours forever…”[/glow] the note on my bedside cabinet read.
“So now he’s taking care of me?” I muttered as a cold chill ran down my spine. It terrified me that this “Chingely” could control me. I felt like a puppet on the end of strings, acted out by some twisted puppeteer. What had added to my knotted emotions was that fact that Kei-teh had appeared in my vision. He had told me that I am needed for something… was his appearance a sign of things to come?! What did it all mean?!
I tore my head from my hands at the sudden sound of the alarm.
“All hands to battle stations! All hands to battle stations! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is NOT a drill!” boomed a commanding voice.
“This is what Kei-teh must of meant when he said I was needed…” I thought, quickly jumping out of bed and grabbing my clothes. Although I didn’t give two shits about this place or the people I had just got acquainted with, but there was something about the appearance of my brother that seemed to push me into helping these people. After securing my gear and small flack jacket (which was filled with several throwing darts and home made explosives). However, I couldn’t help but feel naked without my katana. That fell along with my brother who was using it at the time. I cursed lightly at the loss before heading out into the corridor.
It wasn’t long before I ran into the mech bay, which was a busy bee hive of techs running around, attending to important matters of the double. Something had happened and I need to get busy along with them. From what I had over heard, there was some sort of battle taking place in Gellen’s Heights. The culprits: The Word of Blake. I didn’t take too kindly to their crusade of death and destruction, however it wasn’t their actions that was fuelling me. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for what I saw in my vision.
“Now time to get into gear…”
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MechWarrior Alex Thorn
Regular
LEGIONNAIRES
"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat." - Winston Churchill
Posts: 176
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Post by MechWarrior Alex Thorn on Oct 16, 2005 15:37:26 GMT -5
Garland and I continued to peddle backwards, drawing the WoB 'Mechs out of the smoke. They peppered my Fafnir with lasers but was usless as the Assault 'Mech took the hits. I fired my Gauss Rifles at the nearest Initiate. The 'Mech took both rounds in the torso, causing it to real back. The pilot was able to keep control of the 'Mech. He fired in return. Lasers poured over my 'Mech.
Garland continued to backpeddle.
Garland. How far are we from the cover of the base?
I finished my sentence with another round from my Gauss Rifles.
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Post by Dr. Jessica Saturina on Oct 16, 2005 16:35:21 GMT -5
No we haven't heard from Nightingale, we'll keep a lookout though, I'm sure they're just caught in the jamming field set up by the WoB. I'm positive you can't do any good out here right now, head back to Site 187, if there are still people out there I'll be personally responsible for it, we can't afford to have our only M.A.S.H. unit destroyed in a futile rescue attempt. You'll do more good back at the base. Over.
Acknowledged Guardian 4, Archangel out.
"Well you heard the Captain Reeves back we go. Hey here comes that Sentry he said to look out for. Just follow him. If he is hurt bad he might need help getting out of his mech."
"Aye Doctor."
As Reeves turned the lumbering MIT around to follow the Sentry back to the base, I looked back. I could see Aliesha sitting on the edge of her seat. She looked tense and unhappy. This must be hard for her. Being stuck inside this machine while the battle was raging around us. Hopefully she could join the battle and do what she is trained to do best. I didn't know though. Morgan had given her specific orders and she wouldn't break them. Maybe if I released her or gave her other orders, yeah thats what I would do. She belongs out with them, him especially, she would go crazy here. I could take care of myself.
I could see the base in the distance. We were almost there.
"Ok everyone, be on your toes, when we hit the base there will be a bunch of people from the city there. A lot of them will probably need medical care. Get ready to pull an all nighter."
"Yes ma'am" came in unison from the back. My thoughts then went to God. May God be with us all ........
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Post by Lance Commander William Rhodes on Oct 16, 2005 16:38:22 GMT -5
William had named his new Verfolger, “Bucephalus”, after the warhorse of Alexander the Great, a name he had also used for the Enforcer III he had piloted back in the Kathil March Militia during the FedCom Civil War. Rhodes directed the sixty-five ton Mech, with its piggy-back riding squad of Infiltrator Mk. II armored infantry, towards the south-east sector of Site 187, where a pair of reinforced bridges crossed the step gorge of the Gellen River. Deployed in the foothills to the front of the bridges, were the four BattleMechs of Guardian Lance, holding off the Word of Blake advance while elements of the Legionnaires and the planetary militia rallied at Site 187 across the river.
The Puma squad, in response to a request from Commander Garland, ignited their rocket packs and streaked over to an abandoned apartment building, while the rest of Guardian Lance provided covering fire for a retreating militia Sentry. Rhodes moved Bucephalus over to help guard Savior’s flank, the specially modified Shadow Hawk of Commander Garland.
The Verfolger’s Bloodhound Targeting and Tracking System identified a nearby Blakist Mech that was emerging from the thick smoke, as an EXC-B2 Excalibur. A seventy-ton design dating back to the Star League, the long barrel of its Grizzard Gauss Rifle gave it the appearance of a sword-wielding medieval knight. Though fast for a heavy Mech, the Excalibur was under armored for its weight class.
The crosshairs on William’s HUD flashed gold with the color of a target lock, and he let loose with an azure beam from his Energizer ER PPC as well as a burst of cluster munitions from his Mydron LBX Autocannon. The weapons blasted chunks of armor off of the Excalibur’s torso.
The Blakist MechWarrior fired back with a nickel-ferrous slug from his gauss rifle and a salvo of twenty long range missiles from his Ingrid shoulder launcher. Fortunately, the gauss round went wide, slamming into a nearby hillock and raising a geyser of dirt. The Surefire Anti-Missile System in the Verfolger’s forehead buzzed to life, spraying a stream of 20mm projectiles into the flight path of the incoming missiles. Several of the rockets detonated prematurely, but the rest impacted on Bucephalus’ legs and torso, thanks to the Excalibur’s Artemis IV Fire Control System. The Verfolger’s cockpit vibrated wildly, and Rhodes struggled to keep his machine upright.
Rhodes fired his PPC and Autocannon again, this time selecting a solid High Explosive Armor Piercing (HEAP) round for his Mydron instead of a cluster shot. The blue particle beam and 100mm autocannon slug stabbed deep into the Excalibur’s left torso, where the remaining eleven salvos for its missile launcher were stowed. The Mech’s CASE system channeled the force of the ammunition explosion through specially designed panels in the Excalibur’s rear torso. Unfortunately for the pilot, the bulky Ford 350 XL engine which gave his Mech such a boost in speed was also his undoing. Some of the engine’s reactor shielding was located in the Excalibur’s left torso and was ruptured by the ammo detonation. The Blakist ejected as his Mech, overcome by the escaping heat from the reactor, shut down, becoming a useless heap of inert metal.
William watched the enemy MechWarrior’s parafoil deploy and then float gently to the ground. The Excalibur’s low armor rating was definitely its undoing. William’s Verfolger sported five tons more armor than the Excalibur, yet it weighed five tons less.
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Post by Commander Garrett Garland on Oct 16, 2005 16:45:53 GMT -5
The holding action seemed to be going fairly well—that was until the Blakists wised up. They could be heard long before they could be seen, but when they finally came in visual there was no mistake about them—AeroSpace fighters. I fairly certain that a wing of fighters could not have been launched from the Kaiser’s Folly, nor unpacked in time to deploy them at this moment—there had to be a second DropShip. Cursing myself I realized what I’d done: I’d completely forgotten about our own air assets. Looking at Guardian Lances armaments I realized that my Battlemech was the only one marginally suited to air defense—none of the other ‘mechs had the precision of a UAC5 to shoot down fast moving targets. Guardian Lance was already beginning to break up as each MechWarrior engaged a separate target—without the ability to concentrate fire our lance was easy pickings for the enemy fighters.
“Alright men, we need to pull back ASAP—this is no longer a holding action—this is a forced retreat. As you can see we’ve got an enemy AeroSpace wing coming over the city now—if we don’t get to our Calliope Missile Defense Grid in the next few minutes we might as well eject now.”
Just as I spoke the Word’s main body of ‘mechs had finally formed up at the city’s edge—well out of most of our weapons’ ranges, but still with LRM range. Once again I cursed our lances make-up—only myself and Blake had any LRMs of our own. Toggling my left joysticks thumb trigger I popped my LRM launcher’s hatch, revealing twenty primed warheads. Thumbing the trigger again, I let loose the missiles, their contrails creating a line straight towards the mass of enemy ‘mechs and vehicles. My own volley was made pitiful as Guardian lance came under fire from more than three-hundred missiles. Admittedly most of the MechWarriors of Guardian Lance deftly avoided the missiles by keeping their ‘mechs on their toes—but even the most skillful pilot would find his ‘mech pockmarked by such volumes of fire. And even worse was that the AeroSpace fighters were almost on us and without anti-air support we’d be done for.
Toggling my radio once more I let our a frustrating call, “Kazansky, where the hell are you?!”
To my delight I wasn’t answered with intelligible words—just a yelp of victory.
As if choreographed, the radio let out a “Woohoooo” as an Eisenstrum flew out from the clouds above the city, its nose pointed straight at the oncoming fighter wing. Unleashing a heavy gauss round and twin bursts from its ER Large Lasers the Eisenstrum broke the flock of fighters like a fox in a crow’s nest. The corporal had just bought us the time we needed to get back to base.
“Guardian-2 and three, please get your ‘mechs back to base—the faster ‘mechs will watch your backs as you make your retreat—we’ll catch up with you as soon as our speeds will match up with your distance from the base. When you get back check with control on the defense grid—I don’t care how good he says he is—Kazansky isn’t going to hold off four fighters by himself. Additionally help our militia friend make it back and get him out of that ‘mech—he can be in good shape. I have a feeling that the enemy isn’t going to break up their forces again—they’re going to make a slow, concentrated advance; get in any repairs and ammo reloads you can—I don’t know if you’ll get another chance. Guardian-4 and five, you’re with me, lets hold off these bastards. Guardian-4, you’ll be rear guard for myself and Rhodes as we make our retreat—we’ll see if that TSM and that Supercharger can really do what they say they can do.”
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Post by MechWarrior Aisa Thastus on Oct 16, 2005 19:28:54 GMT -5
I crawled slowly through the frigid snow, my hands becoming numb from the cold, which bled through my leather gloves, as I attempted to keep as much foliage between myself and the five suits of Cavalier battle armor which now stalked me. I knew that evasion wouldn't keep me safe forever - the fresh tracks I left behind as I exited the underbrush would be a dead giveaway. I estimated that I had less than two minutes until I was discovered - the five-suit squad had split off into teams of two - with one remaining behind at their tracked APC - and both teams had fanned out in opposite directions to maximize their areas of coverage.
My comm unit suddenly squawked to life, emitting a manic chirp that was quickly silenced as I tore the unit from its holster. Flipping its screen open, I realized that the communications network had been restored. Keeping my head down, I keyed the microphone, and whispered into the receiver.
"Thastus to any Legionnaire units - respond."
There came no reply, save for a few bouts of garbled static. Either the unit had malfunctioned, or I was simply too far away to receive any transmissions. I cursed silently.
The sound of footsteps crunching in the freshly-fallen snow met my ears, as did a vibration that was nearly imperceptible. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out the outlines of two of the Blakist Cavaliers, approaching the stand of pines into which I had made my initial leap. The closer of the two stopped suddenly, and began gesturing at the ground ahead of him. It didn't take too much effort to work out what he was pointing at.
As all four Cavaliers began rapidly making their way toward my location, guided by my tracks, I frantically scanned my surroundings. To my right was an open field; to my left and rear, four very angry suits of Battle Armor that had me heavily outgunned. A few yards before me, on the opposite side of the thicket behind which I was barricaded, was the APC, accompanied by its lone defender.
I ejected the Desert Eagle's clip, and performed a quick inventory of the rounds within.
Five…better make this count.
I dove out of the bushes, hurtling toward the lone Cavalier, time slowing to a crawl as adrenaline tore through my veins. The battle armor turned toward me, raising his assault rifle and spraying a hail of high-velocity rounds in my direction. The shots flew wide as I impacted the ground and tucked into a roll, coming to a stop in a kneeling position. I raised the ancient Desert Eagle, leveling it at the Cavalier's exposed face, and double-tapped the trigger twice. Four hollow-point, radioactive rounds lunged forth from the chamber, three of them plowing into the soldier's well-armored helmet and breastplate. The fourth found its mark, landing just below the pilot's right cheekbone. The Cavalier's face exploded in a crimson blossom, sending man and machine tumbling to the ground like a sack of potatoes. I smiled grimly, the Blakist's death tantalizing my Clan-hewn lust for blood.
The unmistakable sound of high-caliber rounds striking frozen earth sent me into action once more, diving behind the APC as tracer rounds, flung from the rifles of the four non-deceased Cavaliers whistled past. As I leaned against the side of the vehicle, planning my next move, I felt a vibration running through the massive transport's frame.
The ignorant fools left the engine running!
I clawed at the handle of the driver's side door, bullets ricocheting off the APC's hood and roof, as I dove into the operator's chair, and slammed the vehicle's throttle to 'full.' The engine roared and protested, lurching and shuddering as it was subjected to performance demands never envisioned by its designers. With a substantial heave, the APC tore forward, leaving shredded terrain in its path as it sped off the earthen easement onto the ice-covered tarmac of the interstate. Although the Cavaliers gave chase, their speed was no match for the transport's ridiculously overpowered internal combustion engine, and the sound of their rifle fire gradually gave way to the steady hum of the APC's treads striking pavement.
As I rocketed down the interstate, I began to notice a dramatic increase in the flow of traffic leaving Gellen's Heights, while the opposite side of the roadway, save for a few assorted law enforcement vehicles and military convoys, was nearly deserted. Something significant was happening. Judging by the Blakist insignia plastered across nearly every surface of the vehicle, I was guessing that the 'something' was an invasion.
I turned the vehicle's comm unit on, and was met by a nearly unintelligible cacophony of quasi-religious prattle. Technicians blessing bombs, artillery strikes being called in on the heels of nonsensical sacraments being read, and the name of Jerome Blake being repeated continuously filled the channel, and I quickly turned the unit back off. The gathering of intelligence on the invaders would have to wait.
I sailed down an off-ramp, making a skidding entrance onto the rural road which lead to the Legionnaires compound. All around me were signs of a very heated engagement. Friendly military vehicles and equipment of all types lay smashed along the roadway, accompanied by deep BattleMech footprints. From the looks of it, the retreating local militia had been set upon by Blakist forces, and ravaged. I only hoped that Site 187 hadn't suffered the same fate.
A fierce blizzard enveloped my stolen transport as I barreled toward the garrison, cutting my visibility to near-zero. As I squinted through the snowy maelstrom, attempting to make out the roadway in the midst of it all, the APC was jolted violently, a high-velocity round having been thrown clear through one side of the vehicle's passenger bay and out the other. Thudding footsteps, which drew nearer and nearer as I attempted in vain to drive an evasive pattern, identified my assailant as a BattleMech. The IFF computer mounted in the APC's cockpit gave it a name:
Solitare.
Suddenly, the vehicle's tactical computer wailed as several more 'Mech-scale signatures appeared on the screen, in a staggered line formation, directly ahead of me. I quickly realized that they were part of an impressive military garrison which had formed outside the Legionnaire complex - and they were friendly. I just hoped the APC would hold together long enough for them to intervene…
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Post by Aliesha on Oct 16, 2005 20:25:06 GMT -5
Sitting in the back of the MASH unit, I felt as if I would explode. This assignment Morgan had sentenced me to was already driving me crazy. I should be outside. Battling along side Morgan and the others.
Not that the Doc, did not deserve to be protected but I was useless here. I did not know how much longer I could take this. Being sealed in this tomb. I wanted out where the action was. I needed to fight.
I seen the Doc looking back at me. When she seen me look at her, she smiled. I did not return it though. I was not trying to be rude, just I did not like it here. I did not hide my unhappiness well.
I did hear her conversation with the Captain. We were headed back to the base. It sounded like the bad guys were headed that way as well. This might be my chance to fight. I could hardly wait to get back to the base. There was not anything I would like better then to get my hands on the enemy.
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Post by Elizabeth Evers on Oct 17, 2005 14:43:29 GMT -5
The forced march, as ordered by a panicing vehical operator, was killing me. The distance I didn't mind so much, if it wasn't for the danger. Every new avenue I crossed brought on new threats of being captured or killed. After covering just half the route I was breathing heavily and shaking from adrenaline.
"I am a pilot, not a grunt!" I whispered furiously to myself.
I eventually sprinted across my last boulevard and reached the starport perimeter. The buzz of hovercraft whizzing by gave clear evidence that the city was clearly under occupation. Patrols established this quickly could only have been pre-organized.
I quickly passed through an exit in the parking garage. Quietly and as quickly as I could manage, I worked my way up to the concourse. I had to guess where my Pinto was unloaded and keep myself unnoticed. Once on my odyssey I was forced to dive behind a line of abandoned cars, in order to hide from a passing scout car.
The Word of Blake was being vigilant here, which delayed me considerably. However I made it eventually to the open air concourse. I managed to locate my vtol which had surprisingly escaped capture from the raiding forces. The trick was starting it as quietly as possible.
This was impossible, and soon the shrill sound of my fusion reactor and rotors warming up attracted gaurds throughout the facility. I closed and latched the doors as machine gun fire began slicing down the side of my baby. The rotor came up to speed and I could at last disembark with only superficial damage.
The escape from Gallen Heights was no picnic either. Even after keying in the correct transponder codes I found a massive number of enemy units. At least a trinary of mechs had been deployed, along with ungainly squads of disorganized tanks, hovercraft, and vehicals. It was vertible minefield of threats and I had to fly through it.
The throttle was pushed to 100% as I flung myself into high altitude. Rule number one in surviving ground fire was to create distance, and I was never one to take chances. Once I had escaped the threat of ground fire, I could really push for the Leggionaire base. I had a feeling they were going to need as many assests as they could gather.
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MechWarrior Alex Thorn
Regular
LEGIONNAIRES
"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat." - Winston Churchill
Posts: 176
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Post by MechWarrior Alex Thorn on Oct 17, 2005 19:43:03 GMT -5
At Garland's command I put my Fafnir in full reverse. Soon I found myself near the Calliope turrets. I turned to return fire to any oncoming Blakists. As I looked across the battlefield I realized that the situation was dire.
There was mass confusion on the battlefield. Something that gave the Word of Blake an edge. I didnt like this at all. Something needed to be done.
I glanced around and noticed that Guardian-2 had made it back under the cover of the turrets. I keyed the radio for just Guardian-2
Guardian-2, stay here. They need help out there.
I throttled my Fafnir forward. I noticed that Kazansky was in a fierce firefight with the other Aerospace fighters. One had broken off from the group. I raised my Fafnir's sights to the fighter. I tracked it for a few moments figuring out its trajectory. Then I moved my cross hairs out in front of the fighter. I pulled the trigger for my ER Medium Lasers. The lasers hit the fighter causing a small explosion. The explosion rocked the fighter then caused the fighter to explode, raining metal and fire on the battlefield below.
There ya go Kazansky. Now you have one less fighter to deal with. Guardian Lance this is Guardian-3. How are yall doing up there Garland?
I continued to throttle forward. I couldnt stand to watch my fellow Legionnaires battle without my help.
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Post by Captain Adam "Gunman" Wolf on Oct 17, 2005 19:51:00 GMT -5
Copy that Guardian-1, I've got your backs. It's time to see what Ryuuko Hinote can really do. Let's hope she'll do what they say she can.
I wasn't concerned about the whether or not the TSM and Supercharger could get the 'mech moving at 129km/h, I knew they would, I was concerned by the Level II unit of fanatical Blakists and company that just declared Open Season on the Legionnaires. The hail storm of missiles that had just bombarded us was only the tip of the iceberg so to speak. Although I outclassed every enemy in the field, other than the Grand Crusader, every one of the 'mechs outranged me. One on one I'm sure I could have taken any of them, but with 6 of them at once and all my stealth abilities useless in this situation, there was no way we could get out without taking some serious damage.
As we began our full scale retreat Rhodes, Garland, and myself ran interference while Thorn and Blake retreated their considerably slower 'mechs. The lack of ranged firepower made our interference little more than taking hits for our comrades until an over zealous Raijin came too close. The Raijin, a 50 ton 'mech sporting a rather ackward looking turreted dome in place of its left arm, closed in to 300m in an attempt to use its pulse lasers for some extra damage and perhaps to snag a kill. Opposite to his original plans the Raijin ended up meeting the same fate as the Toyoma, Buccaneer, pair of Red Shifts, and most recently an Initiate, that had previously engaged Guardian Lance.
The outclassed Raijin tried desperately to retreat but not soon enough as it was bathed in weapons fire from Rhodes' Verfloger, Garland's Shadow Hawk, and my own Hatamoto-Kaze Mk II. The concentrated fire ripped through the medium 'mechs torso in several places before striking multiple critical hits to its Gyro and Engine. As the reactor shielding was peeled away from heavy fire, the Gyro dissintegrated in upon itself sending the Raijin plowing into the ground immobilized.
Moments later Rhodes and Garland spun their 'mechs around and began their full retreat, leaving my 80 ton Assault 'mech standing alone facing 6 angry BattleMechs and a multitude of armour and support vehicles. Surprisingly I wasn't that nervous or scared, actually it was more like the massive surge of adrenaline flowing through my system combined with years of training and 1000's of hours in combat that steeled my nerves and numbed my fears enough that they didn't affect me much. It made sense that my 'mech was the last to retreat, theoretically and according to the TRO it was the fastest 'mech and rather ironically the heaviest of Guardian Lance, not counting Thorn's lumbering Fafnir. The extra tonnage meant I was more heavily armoured than the other two fast 'mechs, and although my weapon range was limited to a mere 450m, firepower wasn't what was needed at the moment.
Firing my Large Heavy Laser at the closest enemy, a Grim Reaper according to the targetting computer, I began to build up heat, not caring that the target was still outside the 500m mark. I needed the heat to activate the TSM, plus the heavy fire should make them think twice before getting close enough for anything other than LRMs or small calibre Autocannons. I felt the impact of several missiles along my 'mechs right leg, arm, and torso as the second wave of fiery death arched down from the sky. Raising the right arm into a defensive position, I felt Ryuuko Hinote become quicker and more agile as the TSM came online. Setting the heast sinks to maintain that heat level I swung my 'mech around as the barrage of long range missiles slammed home.
The Grand Crusader had unleashed a terrifying number of screaming warheads equipped with Artemis IV from its twin LRM20 missile racks, all 40 of the high yield projectiles streaked through the burning sky towards my 'mech. Fortunately the Angel ECM suite I mounted negated the effects of the Artemis IV FCS and several of the missiles missed, albiet very narrowly. Unfortunately a large number of the missiles still hit, rocking the Hatamoto precariously onto its left leg before I managed to right it. The barrage of missiles cored into the armour of the right arm, thankfully protecting the vital head and torso sections. Armour exploded off in clouds of deadly shrapnel as each destructive warhead impacted my 'mech, coring deeper into the internal structure of the right arm. A critical hit destroyed the focusing crystal of the Large Heavy Laser, fortunately missing the capacitors and simply disabling the weapon rather than causing it to explode.
Completeing my turn, my back now facing the terrible group of enemies, I slammed the throttle forward, the Triple Strength Myomer working perfectly as it propelled my 'mech to the 96km/h mark. The intensive speed caused the wounded 'mech to groan in protest as I paused for a moment with my hand over the supercharger button, contemplating what could happen as a result of my decision. Originally I had thought the Supercharger was a great idea, it weighed less and took up less space than a MASC system, and the risk of a critical hit on the engine should it fail seemed minimal. In all testing I performed on it the system never failed, but every test was for short bursts during optimal conditions. I couldn't believe that I had never once tested it in a dire situation. The sudden impact of weapons fire against my exposed rear torso shoved all doubt from my mind.
No time like the present...I thought as I slammed my fist down on the button, immediately being thrown backwards into the command chair as the Hatamoto viciously accelerated by 33 km/h in a few brief seconds. The old Terran term "like a bat outta Hell" seemed very appropriate as the entire chassis screamed in agony as it achieved speeds no Assault 'mech was ever suppose to. Pieces of damaged internal structure broke free from the crippled right arm from the stress placed on the 'mechs frame as it reached 129km/h. I would have loved to see the look on the Blakists faces when they saw my ravaged 80 ton Assault 'mech suddenly sprint off faster than any of their 'mechs could go.
I started to chuckle a little as I pulled out of range of their LRMs, it all seemed too good to be true, but then it happened. At first it was nothing other than slowing down, although much faster than normal. I thought maybe the heat level had dropped and the TSM wasn't active any more, but a quick check told me that it was much worse. A sudden bang sounded deep within the Assault 'mech, sounding very much like an ammunition explosion, a small flare burst out the backside of the left torso as a heat sink was destroyed. Checking the status monitor internal sensors confirmed that the Supercharger had failed. Upon its failure a large amount of pressure was built up within the reactor before it was forcefully released through the reactor's shielding causing the equivalent of a critical engine hit and destroying the heat sink as the uncontrolled pressure exploded out the back of the 'mech creating the flare. The destroyed heat sink had been one of the few I had left active to maintain the heat level for the TSM, in order to compensate I had to activate 2 more heat sinks. One to replace the destroyed one, and the second to compensate for the brand new exhaust port my reactor was sporting due to the failure.
Still outside the range of enemy fire I continued along at 96km/h, still a high rate of speed for any Assault 'mech, not bothering to reactivate the Supercharger even after it had purged itself and claimed to be operational again. Toggling the comm open I radioed to Commander Garland.
Guardian-4 to Guardian-1, I've cleared enemy fire and am approaching your position, enemy units seem to have stopped pursuit for the moment. Looks like they are waiting for something. Perhaps another unit? Only two Level IIs and a handful of combined arms Tanks and Infantry seems a rather small force for the WoB to invade with. I don't know about you guys, but I'm in no real shape to face a WoBbie invasion force of any size right now.
As I finished my communication to Garland I checked over my status with a rather dismal look. The right arm was nothing but scrap, the actuators were fried, the myomer muscles were severed, and the laser mounted there useless. The armour levels were in the red all across the rear, the right leg, torso, and left arm were in the orange, everything else was in the yellow, even the head took a hit from behind during my retreat. I wasn't sure how long we would have to repair, normally the techs could fix everything except the right arm very quickly, but with the number of repairs necessary for everyone now at Site 187 the techs were going to have their hands full.
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Post by Commander Garrett Garland on Oct 18, 2005 0:05:52 GMT -5
Our retreat had been well covered—I’d made it back without getting my rear armor blasted to pieces. As my Shadow Hawk’s heavy feet set down upon the base’s southern bridge I tiled my ‘mech forward to the right. Several meters beneath from where I stood waved a small figure. Using my ‘mech’s optical zoom I zeroed in on the figure and watched his hands form numbers. Recording each of the numbers I inputted them into my radio along with the random encryption pattern; even if the Blakists picked up my radio transmissions it’d be hours before they cracked the code.
“Commander Grisham, what’s your status?”
Putting his hand to his ear, pushing on his earpiece for better listening, the Platoon Commander replied, “All charges are in place sir—this baby’ll blow at the push of a button.”
“Excellent work Commander, please move your men back across the bridge—you wouldn’t want them on this side.”
From Kazansky’s estimates about enemy troop strength and composition it’d take them another hour to form up, and then another half to move within striking range of the base. By now the turret defense were on-line and I’d have enough time to reload my ‘mech’s missile launchers and AutoCannon. Stepping though the base’s main gate I noticed the rag-tag militia unit that had formed. Centered around the severely damaged Sentry which was swarming with astechs, were the rest of the militia refuges. I counted both PPC equipped Myrmidon Medium Tanks, a Musketeer Hovertank, and one of the militia’s two Pegasus Scout Hovertanks. I also noticed the damaged form of the APC carrier which had brought Rhodes back from the city along with a contingent of militia infantry. The Caviler BattleArmor was busy acting as a forward scout in case of a surprise enemy advance—they’d be able to hop back to the base without too much trouble. Looking again at the Legionnaires staging tarmac I saw the MASH truck with its rear doors open administering patients. Although the base’s infirmary was well equipped it wasn’t designed to take on the multiple casualties of such a slaughter.
Walking my Shadow Hawk to the ‘mech bay I powered down allowing one of the astechs to run a diagnostic and do what he could in as little a time as possible. I doubted that he’d have time to replace any of my ‘mech’s scorched armor but I’d returned from that engagement surprisingly unscathed. All that I needed to worry about was ammo—I’d be needing all I could get to deal with such a large enemy force. With the comm system running off of battery power I turned on my radio—I needed an update on the enemy’s position.
“Guardian-1 to Wildcat-1, do you read?”
“This is Wildcat-1, I’m a little busy right now—I’ve got two new friends in attention to the two old ones—I’m guessing that they’ve got a Leopard Class DropShip around here somewhere. Hell, they could have anything without us getting any orbital telemetry. Don’t worry though, I’ve got it all under contrrrrooooollllllllll…”
The AeroJock had obviously pulled a high-g maneuver as he was finishing his sentence. Instinctively I looked to the sky hoping to see the fighter pulling some acrobatic feat but the sky was empty—except for the haze of a burning city. Switching my personal comm from the ‘mech’s transmitter to that of the control tower’s, I radioed the infirmary, exiting the ‘mech bay as the radio transmission began.
“Doctor, how are things going down there?”
As she responded I could hear the blood curdling screams of badly injured warriors—the militia had taken some hard hits.
“I don’t know if we can take on anymore Commander—just hope that your battle goes well out there.”
Casualties in war were inevitable and although I felt cold-hearted I had really only called for one reason—the militia ‘mechwarrior.
“Doctor, will the MechWarrior be ready for combat in the next hour?”
There was a pause, and then a sigh, but the doctor did respond a moment later. “Commander—I can make him battle-ready in an hour—but I need those medical supplies for the critically wounded…”
I truly was heartless, “I’m sorry doctor—but right now another Battlemech on the field could make all the difference…”
Before I could hear here reply the base’s calliope defense grid came out of stand-by mode—they’d detected a target. All around me missile hatching were popping open revealing the warheads stored within. At the sound of the first missile flight I raced back towards my ‘mech—so it had already began.
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AeroJock Tom Kazansky
Regular
LEGIONNAIRES
I put my bullets into the target as if I placed them there by hand.
Posts: 8
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Post by AeroJock Tom Kazansky on Oct 18, 2005 0:34:57 GMT -5
Pressed back into my chair I made a high-g acceleration to the base—I wouldn’t admit it but I needed help. Since the time I’d spoken with the Commander the enemy wing had grown from four to six—I still had no clue as to where their reinforcements were coming from. Inverted loops and corkscrew dives couldn’t keep the enemy off me forever—and my ammunition was getting low. A moment before I’d reduced the perusing number to five, and as I lined my crosshair with my next target the number fell to four—but those remaining four were all on my tail. As the base neared, I prayed that someone was there to fire at the enemy wing behind me—if not I would be taking permanent residence in the sky.
My prayers were answered when I saw the small flashes of missile launchers all along the perimeter of the base—the Calliope turrets had locked on the AeroSpace fighters behind me—the systems weren’t designed for anti-air—but at least they’d saturate the air with fire—It’d hurt them more than me. Taking my fighter into a sharp dive I flew across the frosted plains burning foliage with my afterburners as I flew scant meters above the tree-line. Unsurprisingly non of the Blakist fighters matched me—I was too damn good. Still flying hundreds of meters above the fighters pointed their noses towards the base—did they want to get hit by the incoming fire?
The first barrage of missiles peppered the enemy craft, exploding all around them like flak from a millennium ago. A few of the high-explosive warheads actually struck one of the fighters, turning its cockpit into an ashtray. As the fighters continued to near the base, their control surfaces became ever mired and torn—they wouldn’t be pulling any stunts. Yet somehow, even as the forward fighter’s engines caught flame and the cockpit’s canopy cracked they remained on target.
Even a reinforced ferrocrete control tower couldn't expect to take the impact from a multi-ton jet traveling at a thousand kilometers per hour. Hitting the control tower at that speed shattered both the tower and the craft, spraying burning ferrocrete in every direction. Fighters two and three also made similar kamikaze runs, one failing to maintain control, plowing into the cleared kill-zone around the base's southeastern perimiter, but the other, despite heavy damage, managed to fly a scarce few meters further than its wing-mate, right into the perimeter wall. Although the explosion was much less impressive and more of the blast taken by the wall, it was still impressive nonetheless. Amazingly the wall had withstood nearly all of the fighters impact—but it had been going just a little to fast. As the smoke cleared a ‘mech sized hole became visible in the wall—the perimeter had been breached. Glancing at my IFF I saw that the Calliope defense grid did not appear—without the control tower to acquire targets the turrets were useless. At that moment I wondered if there was a friendly merchant JumpShip in system—if I could make it out of the atmosphere then maybe I could link up with them. But no I thought—I didn’t have enough fuel or supplies to make the four day journey to the Jump point—and even if I did there was bound to be some kind of blockade intercepting any outbound traffic. Turning my fighter around I made myself useful—I was going to find that second DropShip.
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Post by Gen Miyamoto on Oct 18, 2005 3:13:08 GMT -5
All hell was breaking loose in Site 187 as the battle came to our doorstep. Liscence or no, I was going to fight. I tossed down a handfull of pills; painkillers, stimulants, aspirin for circulation. I needed to be as close to my oldself as possible.
I rushed into the mechbay and quickly shopped for a suitible ride. My marauder had been untouched since the last mission, and was still inoperable due to the cockpit shot. I settled on the Dragon Mamba used to pilot. It would take some time to prepare, so I wasted no time in getting the monster operational.
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