War on the Horizon
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Book 2: Chapter 6
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MarkWarrior
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Book 2: Chapter 6
My Warhammer shook as heavy winds battered against it; the consistent rain drowned out even the subtle vibrations of the seventy-five-ton war machine’s fusion engine.
“Colonel, we’ll have to pull back into nearby structures!” Julia Watson’s voice was complimented by static on our secure frequency. “We’re starting to have to use the tank’s ballast pumps!”
“There’s a parking garage a thousand meters to our south,” I checked the current map layout we had been using. “Park on one of the higher levels and get dried out. I have a feeling that this rain will stall them out before long.”
After watching the lights on the vehicles move further away, I backed my ‘Mech into an alleyway and shifted into a stable crouch.
“Monsoon season,” I sighed as I set an alert chime on my sensors and pulled out the sleeping bag I kept in the cockpit. “It just had to be Monsoon season.”
The enemy wouldn’t be moving through the night. It was dark enough in the day during the monsoon season. But at night? No, no one with any sense moved at night in this weather. Not when you might turn a wrong corner and be face to face with a tornado or some other Act of God.
I double-checked that the searchlights were off and then slid into the insulated bag, a small pillow separating my cheek from the cold metal surface of my cockpit.
As the raindrops shattered harmlessly against the external armor of my ‘Mech, I closed my eyes and drifted away into Morpheus’s realm.
–
–
Six hours later, I opened my eyes to a gray sky. The rain still fell, but the pitch black of the night had given way to a blurred light.
Groaning, I climbed out of the sleeping bag and packed the kit, storing it before groaning as I stretched.
“Fucking back,” I put my hands under my shoulder blades and leaned back to a series of ‘cracks’ running down my spine.
Grabbing my cooling vest, I slid it back on and climbed into the command chair, the active sensors powering on once more as I secured my neurohelmet.
“Peterson, you got a sitrep for me?” I keyed my mic.
“No movement as of yet, Colonel,” he replied. “Rain’s not comin’ down quite as fierce. I expect they’ll hit us soon.”
“Roger that,” I pulled my ‘Mech out of the crouch and shifted out of the alleyway, moving down the street towards the shield generators. “I’m Oscar-mike to your position,” I then changed frequencies. “Watson, get your vics in position. We’re expecting enemy movement soon.”
“Copy that, Colonel, mounting up and moving out!”
While the short company was preparing to stave off what was left of the Trade Federation’s ground forces, something else was happening in the skies above.
“The Monsoon will go on for a few more days!” the shuttle pilot yelled over the sound of the wind. “But it’s died down enough for us to set down more troops. We can’t land inside the city. The wind’s too strong! So we’ll put you down on the outskirts, let you move in.”
Count Dooku was silent as he braced against the handle above him, his armored fist clenched tightly as the shuttle hovered off of the ground, the Marksman troops jumping off as a few tanks and ‘mechs fell from other shuttles in front and behind them.
“Major Sheppard,” the Count’s smile was grim.
“Yan,” the Marksman XO grinned. “Good to see that you took my advice on the armor. You ready to shred these fuckers?”
Dooku raised his hand, and his lightsaber flew to it, the blue beam igniting before vanishing again.
“Lead me to the front lines. It is high time that I faced the enemy.”
“Well, follow me,” Sheppard climbed the ladder up into the cockpit of his Cyclops, the aging Chief of State following him.
“There’s a fold-out chair behind you,” Sheppard handed the other man a cooling vest. “And you’re going to want to put this on. My ‘mech doesn’t generate much heat, but there’s always a chance of something going wrong.”
The Assault ‘mech moved behind the rest of the armor and ‘Mechs, the rain coming down around them while troops in powered armor held onto the outside of hovercraft, APCs, and other vehicles.
As they followed, Sheppard connected Dooku to the ‘Mech’s communications systems and demonstrated how the command console worked, allowing him to glimpse what the battlefield looked like before they moved into proper combat.
“Command, armor is taking heavy fire from the nearby buildings. Looks like someone wised up on the enemy side.”
“That’s why we have infantry and armor,” Sheppard replied. “Dismount and start clearing houses. We’ll take care of enemy armor.”
APCs sped through the streets, and powered armor clad infantry moved from building to building while the tanks and Mechs offered support.
“Colonel, we’ve got limited contact here,” Sheppard’s battlecomputer pushed through the storm's interference to link up on the battlenet. “What’s your status?”
“You’re on their flanks!” distant explosions were heard. “We’re heavily outnumbered here. I would appreciate some support!”
“Monsoon only let up enough to get us near the city,” Sheppard sighed. “Not enough for air support to assist.”
“Shit,” Hull’s voice responded. “You’re going to have to push in and take them out. We’re watching our fire for now, but if we have to cough up some funds to restore some buildings, I think that’s a price I’m willing to pay at this point.”
“We’ll get there as fast as we can. Just hold out a bit longer.”
Standing in front of a crippled Hunter, I absorbed fire from the AATs while the tank crew scrambled out of the tank and into nearby buildings.
A lucky shot rocked me back before I made the offending hover tank vanish in a swarm of smoke and explosives, my short-range missiles ripping the enemy armor to shreds before I stepped away to dodge the next wave of fire.
I was ignoring the wireframe overlay in the corner of my vision. A desperate hope in my heart that if I didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be true.
“Heat Sink destroyed!” Betty alerted me to yet another heat sink falling to a luckily placed shot. I was now drenched in sweat, and my heat curve was only helped by the fact that one of my PPCs was gone. It had been deleted by a cluster of hailfire missiles early on, and I had been left without one of my primary weapons for most of this engagement.
“Colonel, my Jaguar’s toast,” Captain Julia Watson coughed into her comms. “And we’re too far apart for you to get us out of here,” I could see the tank through enemy lines, the battle droids surrounding it with heavy weapons ready to finish it off. “Give ‘em hell for me.”
The light tank’s turret shifted and began to fire everything it had left. Coaxial machinegun fire tore nearby droids to shreds while the main gun finished off yet another AAT.
I pushed my ‘Mech to its limits, trying to break through the enemy lines to the last of my tanks. I’d ensured that all my crews made it out of this alive. I wasn’t going to let one die in front of my eyes today!
A missile curved in and slammed into my cockpit, while an AAT round hit my gyro, the sudden hit sending me off balance and into the ground, where things went black.
“Shit,” I groaned as I picked my head up from where it had fallen.
My gyro had stopped moving entirely, and the wireframe readout showed that everything had been stripped down to nothing more than the bare skeletal structure of my ‘mech’s chassis.
“Sensors offline, gyro offline,” Betty began listing the critical damage before I muted her and tried to restart the gyro.
“C’mon,” I tried to restart the stuck balancing device, only for grinding and a screech of metal to stop them from spinning. “Work you piece of shit!”
I slammed my fist into the panel and button.
The sound was worse this time, and I grit my teeth as the gyro hesitated and then smoothed out.
“Hell yeah,” I grinned, reaching out with my remaining PPC to stabilize and assist in moving my ‘Mech upright. “Well fuck.”
The droids had seemingly left Watson’s tank alone, but now they were entirely focused on my fallen ‘Mech, the last fifty or so remaining AATs weapons pointed directly at my center torso.
Sighing, I reached for the ejection handle and began to pull it down before I paused at the sound of explosions.
My mouth dropped open, and I watched in awe as a Hetzer drifted around a corner, it's AC-20 carving open everything in its path before a lance of Toros and Centurions followed. The ‘Mechs blazed a path forward as a Cyclops turned the corner, its bulk towering over the droids before a blue beam of light dropped down to support the Mithril squads that dropped off the ‘Mechs.
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of my command chair. It had been a fucking long day, and the cavalry had finally arrived.
My Warhammer shook as heavy winds battered against it; the consistent rain drowned out even the subtle vibrations of the seventy-five-ton war machine’s fusion engine.
“Colonel, we’ll have to pull back into nearby structures!” Julia Watson’s voice was complimented by static on our secure frequency. “We’re starting to have to use the tank’s ballast pumps!”
“There’s a parking garage a thousand meters to our south,” I checked the current map layout we had been using. “Park on one of the higher levels and get dried out. I have a feeling that this rain will stall them out before long.”
After watching the lights on the vehicles move further away, I backed my ‘Mech into an alleyway and shifted into a stable crouch.
“Monsoon season,” I sighed as I set an alert chime on my sensors and pulled out the sleeping bag I kept in the cockpit. “It just had to be Monsoon season.”
The enemy wouldn’t be moving through the night. It was dark enough in the day during the monsoon season. But at night? No, no one with any sense moved at night in this weather. Not when you might turn a wrong corner and be face to face with a tornado or some other Act of God.
I double-checked that the searchlights were off and then slid into the insulated bag, a small pillow separating my cheek from the cold metal surface of my cockpit.
As the raindrops shattered harmlessly against the external armor of my ‘Mech, I closed my eyes and drifted away into Morpheus’s realm.
–
–
Six hours later, I opened my eyes to a gray sky. The rain still fell, but the pitch black of the night had given way to a blurred light.
Groaning, I climbed out of the sleeping bag and packed the kit, storing it before groaning as I stretched.
“Fucking back,” I put my hands under my shoulder blades and leaned back to a series of ‘cracks’ running down my spine.
Grabbing my cooling vest, I slid it back on and climbed into the command chair, the active sensors powering on once more as I secured my neurohelmet.
“Peterson, you got a sitrep for me?” I keyed my mic.
“No movement as of yet, Colonel,” he replied. “Rain’s not comin’ down quite as fierce. I expect they’ll hit us soon.”
“Roger that,” I pulled my ‘Mech out of the crouch and shifted out of the alleyway, moving down the street towards the shield generators. “I’m Oscar-mike to your position,” I then changed frequencies. “Watson, get your vics in position. We’re expecting enemy movement soon.”
“Copy that, Colonel, mounting up and moving out!”
While the short company was preparing to stave off what was left of the Trade Federation’s ground forces, something else was happening in the skies above.
“The Monsoon will go on for a few more days!” the shuttle pilot yelled over the sound of the wind. “But it’s died down enough for us to set down more troops. We can’t land inside the city. The wind’s too strong! So we’ll put you down on the outskirts, let you move in.”
Count Dooku was silent as he braced against the handle above him, his armored fist clenched tightly as the shuttle hovered off of the ground, the Marksman troops jumping off as a few tanks and ‘mechs fell from other shuttles in front and behind them.
“Major Sheppard,” the Count’s smile was grim.
“Yan,” the Marksman XO grinned. “Good to see that you took my advice on the armor. You ready to shred these fuckers?”
Dooku raised his hand, and his lightsaber flew to it, the blue beam igniting before vanishing again.
“Lead me to the front lines. It is high time that I faced the enemy.”
“Well, follow me,” Sheppard climbed the ladder up into the cockpit of his Cyclops, the aging Chief of State following him.
“There’s a fold-out chair behind you,” Sheppard handed the other man a cooling vest. “And you’re going to want to put this on. My ‘mech doesn’t generate much heat, but there’s always a chance of something going wrong.”
The Assault ‘mech moved behind the rest of the armor and ‘Mechs, the rain coming down around them while troops in powered armor held onto the outside of hovercraft, APCs, and other vehicles.
As they followed, Sheppard connected Dooku to the ‘Mech’s communications systems and demonstrated how the command console worked, allowing him to glimpse what the battlefield looked like before they moved into proper combat.
“Command, armor is taking heavy fire from the nearby buildings. Looks like someone wised up on the enemy side.”
“That’s why we have infantry and armor,” Sheppard replied. “Dismount and start clearing houses. We’ll take care of enemy armor.”
APCs sped through the streets, and powered armor clad infantry moved from building to building while the tanks and Mechs offered support.
“Colonel, we’ve got limited contact here,” Sheppard’s battlecomputer pushed through the storm's interference to link up on the battlenet. “What’s your status?”
“You’re on their flanks!” distant explosions were heard. “We’re heavily outnumbered here. I would appreciate some support!”
“Monsoon only let up enough to get us near the city,” Sheppard sighed. “Not enough for air support to assist.”
“Shit,” Hull’s voice responded. “You’re going to have to push in and take them out. We’re watching our fire for now, but if we have to cough up some funds to restore some buildings, I think that’s a price I’m willing to pay at this point.”
“We’ll get there as fast as we can. Just hold out a bit longer.”
Standing in front of a crippled Hunter, I absorbed fire from the AATs while the tank crew scrambled out of the tank and into nearby buildings.
A lucky shot rocked me back before I made the offending hover tank vanish in a swarm of smoke and explosives, my short-range missiles ripping the enemy armor to shreds before I stepped away to dodge the next wave of fire.
I was ignoring the wireframe overlay in the corner of my vision. A desperate hope in my heart that if I didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be true.
“Heat Sink destroyed!” Betty alerted me to yet another heat sink falling to a luckily placed shot. I was now drenched in sweat, and my heat curve was only helped by the fact that one of my PPCs was gone. It had been deleted by a cluster of hailfire missiles early on, and I had been left without one of my primary weapons for most of this engagement.
“Colonel, my Jaguar’s toast,” Captain Julia Watson coughed into her comms. “And we’re too far apart for you to get us out of here,” I could see the tank through enemy lines, the battle droids surrounding it with heavy weapons ready to finish it off. “Give ‘em hell for me.”
The light tank’s turret shifted and began to fire everything it had left. Coaxial machinegun fire tore nearby droids to shreds while the main gun finished off yet another AAT.
I pushed my ‘Mech to its limits, trying to break through the enemy lines to the last of my tanks. I’d ensured that all my crews made it out of this alive. I wasn’t going to let one die in front of my eyes today!
A missile curved in and slammed into my cockpit, while an AAT round hit my gyro, the sudden hit sending me off balance and into the ground, where things went black.
“Shit,” I groaned as I picked my head up from where it had fallen.
My gyro had stopped moving entirely, and the wireframe readout showed that everything had been stripped down to nothing more than the bare skeletal structure of my ‘mech’s chassis.
“Sensors offline, gyro offline,” Betty began listing the critical damage before I muted her and tried to restart the gyro.
“C’mon,” I tried to restart the stuck balancing device, only for grinding and a screech of metal to stop them from spinning. “Work you piece of shit!”
I slammed my fist into the panel and button.
The sound was worse this time, and I grit my teeth as the gyro hesitated and then smoothed out.
“Hell yeah,” I grinned, reaching out with my remaining PPC to stabilize and assist in moving my ‘Mech upright. “Well fuck.”
The droids had seemingly left Watson’s tank alone, but now they were entirely focused on my fallen ‘Mech, the last fifty or so remaining AATs weapons pointed directly at my center torso.
Sighing, I reached for the ejection handle and began to pull it down before I paused at the sound of explosions.
My mouth dropped open, and I watched in awe as a Hetzer drifted around a corner, it's AC-20 carving open everything in its path before a lance of Toros and Centurions followed. The ‘Mechs blazed a path forward as a Cyclops turned the corner, its bulk towering over the droids before a blue beam of light dropped down to support the Mithril squads that dropped off the ‘Mechs.
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of my command chair. It had been a fucking long day, and the cavalry had finally arrived.