Second Part up. Will have the actual battle in an interlude since the MC isn't a MechWarrior, in a couple days. It's already written but I want to edit it a bit.
Pants' attempt to duplicate her trick on the Hunchback failed so we defaulted back to my plan. The ambush against the Hunchback went well. Pretty much exactly as planned, the Sea Spider surfaced and started firing signal flares into the air a bit outside cannon range, while the Hunchback was still pacing the island. This got the pilot's attention and Friday led a charge across the beach to it while the Hunchback pilot was still looking at the surfaced sub. The space suits had a halfway decent stealth package, the best we could build, and within a few moments the Space Commandos were swarming up the legs. By the time he reacted Friday's lead demo team was already up to the head. A burning bar to the cockpit hatch to open up a hole, and he suffocated in the poisonous atmosphere within a minute or two. No casualties, perfect strike.
I felt kind of bad for him. his last few minutes must have been hell, knowing his comrades had abandoned him, he was trapped on a tiny island surrounded by bombs and enemies, and there was absolutely no way out at all. I couldn't imagine a more stressful situation. Then I remembered he was a pirate and slaver, and got over it.
Twenty minutes of waiting later a Sea Spider beached itself and disgorged the best we had available for a 'mech astech. I had to really thank our parent's sense of preservation and care for how much it was saving my hide today, normal practice was to make sure every vital job had several apprentices or understudies and make sure they were separated during operations so that we couldn't lose everybody in a vital job position in one incident.
Thus I had a backup mechwarrior, and backup astechs available in a situation nobody could have seen coming. I would not have brought them on my own initiative, something to remember next time.
Pharaoh was an Elf with. . . actually she looked absolutely nothing like anything I'd associate with a Pharaoh. She was a wood elf with green hair in a pixie cut, green slit eyes, and walnut brown skin along with ears that stuck out six inches from the sides of her head. I got no idea where she got her name but there was a notable Egyptophile clique among us so probably an in-joke.
“We can get it,” she finally finished, “But the effort's going to be a pain and the system is locked down. We've got the neurohelmet off the dead pilot, but I don't have a proper code-breaker with me so we won't be able to make it fight until we can get some replacements,” she explained matter of factly.
“Alright. . . at least we have the Thorn. Can you see about rigging up some winches to get it away from the landing pad? We don't need to taking more damage from the thruster exhaust on that DropShip.”
“Oh we can do better than that,” Pharaoh answered dismissively, “We can put it in maintenance mode and it'll walk, just not fire it's weapons. Take a day or two to crack the neurohelmet security so we can use it like a real 'mech, though.”
“Ah, well great then. That's all we need,” I said, suddenly much more cheerful. That would be a great help.
“Uh, you realize without weapons it won't do a thing to the clanners?”
“Doesn't matter, I can bid it away which makes us look good,” I told her smugly.
The next half hour passed swiftly, for people who weren't me. Pants kept communications running and I coordinated movements as Grizzly disabled and recovered the mines from around the landing pad. Meanwhile we got the terrified pilot out of the Thorn and Pharaoh reset it's security systems so that Fish could pilot it.
With that covered, Pants and I decided to eat a bit, grabbing a couple of bricks of freeze-dried yeast and some water. It wasn't tasty but food was always scarce for us and yeast was easy to grow in abundance.
Fish was a brave monster girl. She knew full well she was almost certainly going to die, that's just how clanners rolled. But she was going to die for the rest of us, to save her people and her sister, so that nobody else would die today.
I hoped I'd be as accepting and calm when my time came. She spent about twenty minutes putting the Thorn through it's paces, getting familiar with the systems, and then retreated to spend her last hour with her sisters.
Naturally, having things go right didn't sit well with the universe and that's when disaster struck.
“Signal from the mining base!” Pant's suddenly shouted, spraying yeast crumbs in my ear as she toggled the communications system. A scared gargoyle appeared.
“This is Treadmill, we're under attack, multiple torpedo impacts and we're taking on water! We've taken out the attacker but virtually every level is flooded and-”
“Signal lost,” Pants reported dully.
There'd been a second Manta, intact but sunk, we'd thought. Once we'd quit paying attention the attack sub had pulled away and headed for our mining base. And now the base was gone.
“Pants!” I snapped out immediately, “Dispatch the subs carrying Grizzly's Sappers at flank speed, there may still be survivors even if communications are down. Tell her the situation.”
Grizzly wasn't trained for SAR, at all, but she was what I had available and ready to go, and the mermaid sappers could hold their breath for thirty minutes straight, a valuable thing in a flooded base operation. But the hardware was probably all gone. . . along with 99% of our food and freshwater supplies, I suddenly realized. Suddenly feeling much hungrier since my biology can be quite spiteful to my brain, I carefully wrapped up what was left of my yeast bar and put it in the locker.
I didn't have a plan, couldn't really think of one now. I wasn't sure how to get out of this one. We needed food. We monstergirls needed more than baseline humans, a lot more. We couldn't survive the two weeks it would take the DropShips to get here (best time) on 1% rations. We'd starve in days.
In short we were in real trouble and there was just no way out.
“Bear Ribs, what are we going to do?” Pants asked me softly.
I steepled my fingers and concentrated a moment. “We're going to deal with the clanners first. Then I'll worry about food afterwards,” I told her. It's something I'm good at, ignoring distractions until the current emergency is dealt with.
“But. . .”
“No buts,” I told her firmly. “You can look into it, page the techs and see if we've got anybody who's got experience on the yeast vats, see if they have any ideas. And tell Grizzly to see what can be recovered, at least some of the rations should be in sealed containers that might have survived. And then leave me alone, I've got a more immediate problem right now.”
Pants looked taken aback by this, “Okay,” she said quietly.
It wasn't long after Pants got the word out that the various tech groups that the Nova Cat dropship landed, huge and impressive compared to the bandit Lion, which itself was several times larger than our own ancient ones. Within a few minutes of landing a group of suited technician caste had emerged and made things secure, and the clanners began to unload 'mechs.
They were impressive ones, too. Compared to the bandits these 'mechs were shiny, painted, cared for; lacking the ugly spot welds and obvious patch jobs holding the bandit 'mechs (and the assorted salvage we tended to use) together. Three rows of 15 'mechs stood in a parade formation, ranging from a light 20 ton Jenner IIC to a massive 60 ton Mad Dog. Each one was painted in Nova Cat colors with a snarling cat face on the shoulder and they stood in a perfect formation next to the boat ramp.
It was intimidating to say the least, and it was with some trepidation that I had Pants open a channel to Star Captain Ulrich again.
“Well met,” he told me politely, “I trust you are prepared to respond to my Batchall now?” Straight to the point. Well then.
“I am,” I answered with more force and determination than I felt, “I, Bear Ribs, accept your Batchall. The condition will be augmented, the field of battle underwater at the base of this island's loading ramp. I bid the following forces: 1 Hunchback, 1 Thorn, and two points of ultralight submarines.”
This was too much for him and he actually giggled at me, “You captured those 'mechs less than an hour ago and already you are bidding them with green pilots. I salute your audacity, Bear Ribs. But. . . two points of submarines?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Pants, send the specs please,” I requested, “I'm of the opinion that one submarine can be taken as a rough equivalent of one elemental.”
He glanced offscreen to one of his own officers and the nodded. “I accept your assessment,” he said cheerfully, “But you have bid 4 points, 5 is standard.”
“Can't bid what I don't have,” I admitted.
“Ah, well then, I will defeat your forces with only a Fire Moth and a Viper, and no vehicles,” he countered.
“Then I shall bid away the Hunchback, and take you on with only the Thorn and the submarines,” I countered as planned.
“I have the utmost confidence in my mechwarriors. I need no Viper and will defeat you with only the Fire Moth,” he gave me a cheerful smile.
I raised an eyebrow at him, “I too believe my pilot to be skilled, Fish will take your Fire Moth without the assistance of any Submarines.”
At this point negotiations changed slightly. Since it was now one on one, our pilots would bid for themselves so Fish was patched in, along with the Fire Moth's mechwarrior, a gothic looking woman with pale skin, hair the color of charcoal, and a twisted burn mark on one cheek.
“I am Fish, mechwarrior of the Thorn,” Fish said. Kind of unnecessary but protocol.
“I am Samantha, mechwarrior of the Fire Moth, and I say your skills are trash to mine,” the goth girl opened up, “I bid away my lasers and will defeat you with only my missile launchers.”
There was a really long pause and I pinched the bridge of my nose. Ulrich looked like he was barely containing hysterical laughter.
“I'm almost tempted to allow that because I want to win,” I finally interjected when I realized Fish was going to go for it, “But unless the clan's technology have changed dramatically, your missile launchers will not fire underwater. You're literally bidding away the only weapons you have. Unless you plan to punch the Thorn to death.”
Samantha managed to turn even paler, then blushed red. Striking in melee was considered gauche and a violation of normal clan behavior. On the other hand she was acting like an idiot. I couldn't afford to be too meek and unwarriorlike.
“Then. . .”
“Let it stand,” I suggested, “You're already bidding away all your missiles just by walking into the water.”
There was a pause as both Ulrich and Samantha considered.
“Agreed, Bargained-” Samantha finally answered, but Ulrich interrupted before she could finish.
“There is one other slight matter before we begin,” he began, “You see, you chose an underwater venue as is your right. However as I lack submarines, my warriors cannot join the circle of equals and observe the battle. Consequently you are obligated to allow my warriors onto your non-combatants in order that the circle may be maintained. . .” the devilish grin he had suggested that somehow this was a win for him though I had no idea why.
“Ah, just a moment please,” I muted, then froze the video and for a brief moment, emulated Grizzly's normal speech patterns before getting myself under control.
“Pants, we need all the inhumanoid monsters-”
“Like, on it already!” Pants countered me. And she was, literally using one set of vocal cords to talk to me while her second set were issuing orders over the radio.
“Right, okay, good,” this was so not good. I was past playing with fire and deep into playing with lava here. I put Ulrich back on.
“Most of the submarines are full, I'll need a short amount of time to move around my people so that your warriors can have a seat, but your terms are otherwise acceptable,” I finally said with a big fake smile on my face.
“Certainly. Bargained well and done,” he told me.
“Bargained well and done,” I agreed dully.
A flurry of activity followed as we moved our people around. We actually had plenty of room, the problem was, y'know, species. Elves and succubi could pretend to be humans with a hat to cover their ears and horns, and cyclops could pull it off with an eye-concealing helmet. Golems were more of a problem, they looked like a a suit of armor but the fact that they had human proportions would make any person with the slightest spatial recognition wonder how the heck a human being was fitted inside a suit that was. . . well, human sized. The armor would have to be paper thin and the current state of battlefield technology, Battletech Pants had identified the world we were in, didn't allow for that. Wyverns, gargoyles, and mermaids were right out, there was just plain no mistaking them for humans.
A whirlwind of docking and swapping people followed as the pilots ensured several Sea Spiders had adequate space and none of the more. . . monstrous looking monster girls on board.
Eventually it was done, and time to bite the bullet. Half a dozen Sea Spiders pulled themselves onto the beach, the clanner representatives climbed in through the airlocks, and we formed a rough circle around the two 'mechs. There was a burst of whiteness as the Sea Spiders turned dozens of floodlights onto the surface, and the circle of equals was complete.
