 |
|
15. Mutiny
Entrance to Devil’s Canyon, “This is Demi Precentor Patrick Donohue, of the Britannia Guards. On behalf of the Regent of the Britannic Coalition, I call upon the commander of the pirate forces to surrender and order your troops to stand down. If we do not receive confirmation of your compliance within the next ten minutes, we will consider your intentions to be hostile and will pursue our attack”. Donohue switched from the open frequency to the one he used to talk to his counterpart from Three Gamma. “Well, Robyn – do you think they’ll go for it?” “They’re bottled up like rats in a barrel and outnumbered at least two to one. If I were them, I’d consider surrender to be the smart option”, she replied. “Question is, are they smart enough to realise that?” “Indeed”. They fell silent, glancing at their wrist chronographs every so often as the seconds ticked by. The desert was remarkably quiet now, save for the odd thumping footfall and whine of actuators as pilots restlessly shifted their mechs.
Northern Entrance, Devil’s Canyon, “Hawkins – you got a way outta here for us yet?” Hendricks asked impatiently. The lance he’d detailed to open a path through the rock-fall had been working for nearly quarter of an hour with no discernible results. Several of the pilots with jump-capable mechs had tried to leap up the man-made landslide, only to lose their footing on the unstable surface and come crashing down into the canyon, damaging their machines. A few of the lighter mechs, with greater jump ranges had actually managed to clear the massive obstruction. Their pilots had promised to return with help, but Hendricks doubted they would. In any case, the last broadcast had rendered any such help moot. If they weren’t out of here in five minutes, those blasted off-worlders would come right on in and finish the job. “No, sir – those off-worlder aero jocks dropped a goddamn mountain on top of us!” came the angry and nervous reply. “Its gonna take hours to move enough rocks to clear a path and we can’t blast our way out without risking bringing more rocks down on top of us”. Captain Miles Hendricks, former commander of Unlucky 13 Company of Third Battalion and now the de facto commander of the Second Extractors, was as scared as he could ever remember being. It wasn’t just the two enemy battalions waiting for him outside the canyon, though they were bad enough. It was the enemy within he had to contend with as well. Pirates, by their very nature, were never the most disciplined or patient of people. His troops were becoming increasingly agitated at being bottled up in this canyon, as well as the looming threat of capture. Many of the pirates frequently boasted they would rather die a warrior’s death than suffer imprisonment. There was no telling what they might do if their patience was stretched too far. Still - it was up to him. He had to try and salvage whatever he could out of this nightmare situation. The thought of the remnants of his tired, battered command, throwing themselves at the off-world invaders in a futile gesture of defiance, filled him with anger and a steely resolve that he could not remember experiencing before. Surprised into action by his newfound determination, he switched his radio to the battalion frequency. “Okay people – y’all heard that last transmission from the off-worlders. We got ten minutes to broadcast our surrender and power down or they come in an’ get us. We’re down to about a third of our nominal fighting strength and those of us left are damaged and low on ammo. Waitin’ outside are over twice our number of enemy troops”. He let that fact sink in for a moment before continuing. “Now I know a lot of you folks would like nothin’ better’n to teach these bastards a lesson they won’t soon forget…and I know that in these here close quarters, we could put some real hurt on ‘em. The question we gotta ask ourselves is…at what price?” He stopped and waited, expecting an outburst of rabid fury from some of the more bloodthirsty Extractors. When the radio net remained surprisingly quiet, he went on. ”Since, at this moment in time, there appears to be no other way out of our predicament, I propose we accept their terms. Since I can't force y'all to comply, I propose we settle this, all democratic, like and have a vote. All those in favour of surrendering, say ‘Aye’”. At first there was nothing but silence on the radio net and for a few moments Miles was afraid he’d misjudged his men. Are they prepared to fight to the death, after all? He wondered. Then, slowly, muttered assents came over the com-link. Naturally, there were dissenters…those who preferred to fight, but their protests were drowned out by a majority of the pirates, who apparently preferred incarceration to a pointless death. Hendricks imparted a few more words of wisdom to quell any doubters. “Remember, we can always escape from prison. It’s a lot harder to escape from a grave”. This statement seemed to put an end to any lingering arguments and Hendricks used the break in the chatter to continue. “Well now, if y’all are agreed, I shall issue our formal response”. He switched to the open frequency used by their assailants. “This is Captain Miles Hendricks, acting commander of the Second Regiment of Morrison's Extractors. On behalf of…” He broke off as a threat warning lit up on his console. Someone was targeting him! Miles never got to utter another word as a gauss slug obliterated his Grasshopper’s cockpit. The pilot-less machine froze in place, tendrils of smoke rising from destroyed electrical systems. There were several seconds of shocked silence on the radio net as the pirates tried to comprehend what had just happened. |
|
16. Prolonging the Inevitable
Devil’s Canyon, “You loco son of a bitch, Bergman! What the hell did you do that for?” yelled Captain Angelina “Angel” Mescalero, commander of Castilla Company, Third Battalion. She’d positioned her mech as far up the side of the canyon as it would go in order to get a better visual fix on their situation. From the corner of her eye, she’d caught the bright blue flash of the gauss rifle’s discharge, quickly tracing the source to Sergeant Bergman’s Orion ON-2M. By the time she’d realised what he was firing at, Miles Hendricks was already dead. “The yellow bastard was gonna sell us down the river, Angel!” snarled Luther, one of a handful of survivors from Auger Company. “We’re the Extractors – we don’t back down from no-one, right?” he demanded of the motley assortment of surviving pirates. There was a hesitant muttering over the radio net from some of the more militant pirates and Luther took encouragement from it. “To me Extractors!” he cried, “Lets show these bastards how pirates fight!” Angel had never particularly liked Hendricks, sharing Macready’s assessment about his stomach for a fight, as well as his command abilities. However, like any good gambler, she knew when to cut her losses. It had been clear to her that this was one trap they couldn’t fight their way out of…then Luther had gone and screwed things up. Quickly scanning her sensor readouts, she saw a number of mechs moving towards Bergman’s position. ‘That pendejo will get us all killed!’ she thought. “Bergman, power down your mech and dismount – that’s an order, Sergeant!” Angel snapped, careful to emphasise his rank. “Make me, bitch!” came back the arrogant reply. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You just signed your death warrant, hijo de puta!” Angel screamed, torso-twisting and bringing the right arm of her Awesome AWS-8Q to bear on the Orion ON-2M – a relatively new design, salvaged from a raid on a Marik border world, several years ago. One of her mech’s torso-mounted PPCs had been destroyed during the battle with the off-worlders. Nevertheless, she unleashed twin streams of ionised destruction from her remaining particle cannon at Bergman’s mech. The azure beams entered a gaping hole in the Orion’s torso, where one of the LRM launcher’s CASE panels had vented an ammo explosion. Smoke began pour from the ragged opening, quickly followed by orange and yellow tongues of flame. The 75-ton mech took a halting step forward, then stopped. Its gauss rifle arm still raised in the direction of the fallen Grasshopper, sagged to the ground. Over their private radio link, Angel could hear warning alarms going off in Luther’s cockpit. “You crazy bitch!” he screamed at her. “I’m gonna…” Angel never found out what he planned to do as the Orion gave an ominous creak and slowly toppled forward like a felled redwood. In a cruel twist of fate, it fell face forward, the mech’s head smashing against a large boulder, obliterating the cockpit. She was suddenly aware of cries of anger on the radio net. Her peripheral vision caught the dazzling ruby lances of lasers aimed in her direction. Her Awesome rocked as autocannon rounds found their mark. ‘Madre de dios!’ She thought, ‘This cannot be happening! “To me Castillas”, she cried, looking around desperately for cover, while trying to identify her assailants. Half a dozen mechs began to converge on her position. “Esta bien, mi capitano”, called a familiar voice, “I have your back”. Angel felt a surge of relief as she recognised the voice of Lieutenant Gabriel Amoruso. As she watched, he fired his Blackjack’s large lasers at an unseen target. Other mechs from Castilla Company began to form up on her and return fire. The skirmish quickly escalated into a full-blown battle between the remnants of Angel’s Castillas and combined elements of Auger and Buffalo Companies. Those in the faster, lighter mechs fought running battles between the house-sized boulders dotted around the canyon floor. The larger mechs simply stood and slugged it out.
Entrance to Devil’s Canyon, The sounds of battle reverberated along the canyon walls, carrying easily to the external microphones of the Guard mechs at the canyon entrance. “What the hell is going on in there?” wondered de Chastelaine, frowning as she tried to position her mech for a better view into the canyon’s shadowy depths. “Sounds like our friends are having something of a disagreement”, replie Donohue over their private channel, sounding equally bemused. He switched frequencies to his company command channel. “Adept Townsend, have one of your lance commanders send a scout in”. “Aye, sir”. “Tell them this is strictly reconnaissance. If they are spotted, they’re to withdraw immediately”. “Understood sir”. An uncomfortable quarter of an hour passed before Donohue’s radio crackled into life again. “Sir, our scout reports the pirates are engaged in a full scale battle with each other…there are downed mechs and debris everywhere. They said it was impossible to tell who’s shooting at whom – let alone whether anyone has the upper hand”. Townsend sounded completely nonplussed and Patrick couldn’t blame him. “Thank you Adept”, he replied, before switching channels. Donohue relayed the information to de Chastelaine over their private channel. Robyn clapped a gloved hand over her neurohelmet’s visor and shook her head. “Unbelievable! What do we do now?” After a moment’s reflection, she added, “What are we going to tell the commander?” “First things first, Rob”, Donohue replied soberly. “I think our first priority is to figure out how to get the situation under control”. As they were discussing their next move, they gradually became aware of a new sound…or rather a lack of it. “Its gone awfully quiet in there. Do you suppose that’s a good sign?” asked de Chastelaine. “You mean have they all killed each other, so we won’t have to bother with the prisoner evac?” Donohoe chuckled. “Very funny”, Robyn responded with an exasperated sigh. “If they have, we’ve got some serious explaining to do”. Suddenly everyone’s radios crackled to life as a new voice began broadcasting on an open frequency. “This is Captain Angelina Mescalero, commander of Castilla Company, Fifth Battalion of Morrison’s Extractors”. The pirate officer sounded exhausted and in pain, but her voice remained steady. “I wish to offer the unconditional surrender of all remaining Extractor forces. We will be exiting the canyon in the next few minutes. Please hold your fire”. The two Guards officers stared at each other from opposite sides of the canyon entrance. Although unable to see each other through the polarised ferroglass canopies, they shared a single thought. Robyn was first to react. “This is Demi Precentor Robyn de Chastelaine of the Britannia Guards. On behalf of our commanding officer, I accept your surrender. I will instruct our forces to pull back. An escort will be detailed to take you to our field base and our medics will be alerted to stand by to receive casualties”. After receiving acknowledgement from Captain Mescalero, Donohue interrupted her train of thought with a call on their private channel. “Hey, no fair Rob – I wanted to take their surrender!” Robyn laughed. “Tough luck, Pat. Tell you what – I’ll let you call the St James and give the Precentor the heads up. Meanwhile I’ll take the Third and find another route through the mountains. According to intel, the Extractors’ base is about twenty kilometres northwest of here. The briefing did say we were to locate the base, liberate any prisoners and salvage anything that might be of interest”. “Some people have all the fun!” grumbled Donohue. “I wonder if our esteemed leader has a plan for accommodating our guests?” “The trip home will certainly be quite cosy, won’t it?” “Maybe we’ll have to share a cabin?” said Patrick, a hopeful tone in his voice. “In your dreams, Pat!” Robyn teased. |
|
