PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
Just in time for the Best Wedding.
Battletech Last To Know
- Thread starter Harlock
- Start date
Chapter 4
Harlock
I should have expected that really
4
Approaching Planet Amagi
“Twenty minutes to atmosphere. All hands man battlestations, all Mechwarriors to your machines.”
The announcement was accompanied by a cacophony of alarms and sirens calling the crew to action, personnel propelling themselves in zero gravity through hatches and along corridors to their posts. It was a sudden hive of activity after a week of not very much which pretty well described every space journey the passengers had observed. Now though things were getting very serious.
This was a full scale planetary assault and although opposition was predicted to be light nobody was taking that for granted. The dropships were going in expecting a fight and the various troops contained inside likewise weren't being complacent.
It had taken three jumpships in total to transport the assault force, one for Caliburn Regiment and it's logistics train with the mercenaries split between the other two along with their supplies and some generic munitions for the Amagi rebels. High Command had raided the junkyards and rustled up some Scorpion light tanks along with several pallets of infantry weapons which were being given to their new allies as a gift. Better than nothing, but not by much.
Most of the heavy carrying was going to be done by the forces Janus was bringing with the rebels mainly for securing territory once the professionals had finished. Last minute reports had stated the rebels had made their initial moves seizing an airbase and naval yard containing several warships. That had sounded great until they clarified it was a water based fleet, not space going warships. Still it would give the invasion sea supremacy and make them competitive in the air when the real business began.
“Just like old times!”
Donald roared out over the pulsing sirens as the mechwarriors glided into the hanger bay.
“Don't jinx it!” Sandy called back. “Last time we dropped on a Combine world it was a disaster.”
“We did well on Robinson, remember that one?” Owens recalled.
“But we were young and stupid back then.” His friend returned. “Now we're just old and stupid!”
“Speak for yourself!” Henry snorted. “This is easy money, no orbital defence weapons, no satellites, no aerospace fighters. This is just for show.”
“You believe all that?” Johan tutted. “ That's right up there with 'We'll all be home by Christmas.' We need to be alert.”
“He's right, if it was going to be that easy they wouldn't need to send so many of us.” Owens agreed. “We go by the numbers. Mount up and be ready for a hard landing.”
The two mech teams headed for their respective vehicles making use of the copious hand holds, railings and guide lines to get them from the crew area to their waiting mechs. Zero gravity was often disorientating especially as the dropship was firing its thrusters to adjust course and speed causing sudden peaks of acceleration, Whoever was piloting this thing was almost certainly not part of the AFFS and probably another less experienced merc hire.
Still they were at least on course and on schedule. Owens propelled himself along to the gantry holding his mech, the metal frame keeping it safe and secure while providing valuable hand holds for the maintenance crew.
“How are we Sergeant Cooper?” Owens spotted his crew chief waiting near the cockpit access.
“All good Colonel, fresh coolant, fully charged back ups, I even swept out the cockpit and threw out the snack wrappers.”
“Damn I miss the AFFS.” He exhaled. “Thank you Sergeant.”
While Donald's Jericho Lance had brought their own support teams, the nature of Owens' departure from previous employment had left his people alone. Janus had pulled a maintenance squad from one the army training units for them and while painfully young they had proven more than suitable to the task.
Sergeant Cooper helped Owens into his cooling gear and stood back while he dropped into the cockpit itself, pressing himself down in the zero gravity until he got his seatbelts clicked in.
“All connectors are good sir.” Cooper informed before handing over the neural helmet. “Give 'em hell Colonel.”
“Death or Glory Sergeant. See you down there.”
He pushed the helmet down over his head and made sure it was linked in to the mech central computer bringing the system up from standby. One after another his screens came to life showing all systems in prime condition and ready to go. Through the canopy he watched the various ground crew withdraw and close off the hanger bay behind them leaving just the combat forces now. It had gone from hectically busy to utterly still in just a few moments, even the sirens had now stopped as their duty was filled.
Now was the waiting, the period of apprehension and dread that preceded every operation. Some were worse than others but there was never a moment where everything was comfortable. Even the easiest missions carried the chance of unexpected death, something like this dropping onto an enemy world behind the frontlines with no chance of reinforcements? Yeah, that was breeding a healthy amount of concern.
Even the usual chat and banter Owens was so used to had faded away as his team checked and rechecked their systems. It was a time when everyone retreated into their own thoughts and reflections making peace with themselves. Perhaps they prayed or bargained with fate for good luck, perhaps they ran through a never ending series of pointless thoughts to drown out their fears. Everyone had their own way of dealing and Owens had never asked once in all these years what his comrades found. He considered it a private matter close to each man's heart and there it should stay.
“All hands be advised.” The dropship Captain tapped their comms. “Five minutes to atmosphere.”
*
The tactics for an opposed landing were well known and practiced with several different strategies depending on the level of support and opposition. In this case there was little of either which meant the operation would be over quickly and in theory with minimal losses. The landing itself was split into three waves, the first being a vanguard of mechs with infantry support, the second comprising the bulk of Soult's Regiment, and the final wave being the remaining mercenary forces. The Jumpship that had brought them was long gone with no easy way to get it back, if this for some reason didn't go well escape would not be possible.
The dropships themselves were armed but not heavily so, they could clear a landing zone of light opposition but weren't meant for a real fight and instead would rely on whatever they were carrying. The first card to be drawn being the wing of Aerospace fighters the Navy had so graciously loaned them.
“Victor Squadron, Sabre Squadron, Ripper Squadron, deploy on my mark.”
Captain Mary Jones keyed in the last few commands bringing the fighter to full readiness, the entire airframe vibrating as the engines built up power. Normally she would be launching from a warship which had a little more room to manoeuvre rather than the cargo deck of a dropship not really designed as a carrier. Still, these were her orders and her people were perfectly capable of seeing them through.
The bay doors cranked open in utter silence revealing space beyond, this particular dropship holding station above the planet where it would remain as an untouchable base for the fighters. While it didn't have any real space to ground weaponry it would serve as a makeshift comms and spy satellite supporting the ground forces in addition to hosting the fighter wing far from harm. It also carried the only other professional forces for the mission, a small team of Navy personnel overseeing and coordinating the other dropships to ensure a relatively controlled landing.
“All squadrons launch on my mark. Three, two, one, mark.”
The deployment was decidedly anticlimactic, their little carrier had no catapults so each plane simply nosed its way out gently on thrusters. It took a minute or two for all twenty craft to form up outside the carrier and then make their way to the planet.
“Skymaster, wing commander. Beginning descent.”
“Copy that, set de-orbit for grid sixteen. Be advised enemy fighter aircraft are launching, analysis shows air breathing jet engines.”
“Won't be a problem.” Jones answered with total confidence. Her fighters were in a different league from jet aircraft and while they weren't perfect any competent aerospace fighter pilot knew how to exploit their advantages in thrust, firepower and protection. “All squadrons lock course and begin descent. Aerobrake in thirty seconds, standby to engage once we reach mach three.”
As one the airwing burned their engines briefly to cut speed and put themselves on a curving course toward the planet. They approached backwards to get the best braking performance before rotating their craft and tilting the nose upward as they touched the atmosphere.
“Assume descent formation.” Jones ordered getting her fighters to space out so if one suffered an accident it's debris wouldn't bring down their squad mates. It took a few minutes for the fighters to slow down from orbital velocity dropping like a meteor shower burning bright in the sky. The undersides handled the heat easily enough protecting the more delicate weapons and sensors elsewhere. Unfortunately it meant the fighters couldn't carry underwing missiles leaving them entirely reliant on their guns.
Gradually their speed decreased as the atmosphere thickened bringing the fighter wing down to more normal combat velocities. They tilted nose down and fired up their engines scanning from high altitude for targets, their radar eyes spotting the incoming defensive aircraft.
“Victor wing form up by flights, bandits at twelve low, dropships four minutes behind us.” Jones listed. “Let's clear the way before they get here. Weapons free, fire at will.”
*
The dropship hit the sky hard rattling and jolting the vessel as it headed downward and the air thickened beneath it. This was a point of concern, the vehicle wasn't exactly in perfect condition as the grease stains and rust streaks had indicated when they had first boarded. Whether it could hold up to a particularly violent de-orbit was becoming more and more of a question. A normal crew would have adjusted their course to follow a more shallow and gentler path but it seemed the jokers piloting this thing just wanted it done as quickly as possible.
Owens enhanced his calm lining up a few songs on his cockpit speakers to keep his mind away from such concerns. It probably wouldn't matter much, if something went wrong at this point they'd all be dead before they knew it, they were still too high and too fast for even a mech to survive without proper ablative heat shields. Mostly the music was to prevent him getting out of his mech, heading up to the bridge and slapping the crew with a flight manual.
He smiled at the thought but restrained himself as it likely wouldn't be helpful. Funny but not helpful. Instead he hit repeat on 'Men of Harlech' for the sixth time and tried to absorb the sound.
This had once been his pre-battle ritual, his own particular method of hardening the sinews and firing the blood, burying his fear with determination and the need to get the job done. He would listen to songs which had worked for his ancestors and hope a little of their courage might find him. It had worked well in his youth but less so as he had grown older. Indeed this was probably the first time in years he'd listened to this before action, maybe being back with the Suns had stirred some dormant ember in his heart.
Owens had always taken some pride in his Welsh ancestry despite being centuries removed from the land of his fathers. His community had kept alive a lot of those traditions from the language to the songs as they lived out among the stars and Owens had continued to respect that. His blood was the blood of knights and warriors, his current profession was he hoped a way of carrying that duty onwards and making sure it did not die out.
There was an unusually loud clang from somewhere in the ship which did not sound healthy but happily didn't result in the disintegration of the vessel. In fact the buffeting had steadied somewhat and reduced itself more to a steady shudder accompanied by the rumble of engines. That meant they were now somewhere in the atmosphere and using engines to slow down rather than friction. They had survived step one of the journey, just a few thousand more steps to go.
“Mech team standby to jump.” The loadmaster informed them over the radio. “Doors opening, greenlight in ten seconds.”
The dropship itself wasn't going to touchdown immediately, it wasn't carrying enough firepower to clear its own landing zone so instead the mechs would go first. That involved them jumping from the ship as it hung in the sky, freefalling a few thousand feet, then using their jump jets to slow them down for a safe gentle landing. In theory. In practice it was always a risky move and in his career Owens had seen several mechs suffer a hiccup and hit the ground at terminal velocity. It was always an interesting tactic in the truest sense of the word.
The cargo doors popped open revealing pale blue sky beyond, wind whistling through the bay as the ship continued to fall though at a reduced rate.
“Vanguard Company, take jump positions.” Owens ordered. Thanks to his experience had been designated commander for the initial mech landings, four full lances including his own, Jericho Lance, and teams from the Rovers and Blades. At the same time a second dropship would be deploying the Air Mobile Infantry battalion Soult had brought which would back up the mech unit. They would be launching in VTOLs from their own dropship and flying in those to the target area, again a good way to keep the dropship safe but potentially very risky and requiring very steady pilots.
The bay lights suddenly turned green, the universal sign to get going.
“Alright Company, jump!”
He lead by example taking a quick breath and then stepping out into thin air. The mech dropped like a rock which was entirely expected, the machine avoiding the downward pointing dropship engines and finding itself clear of immediate danger. All systems showed green but something was a bit off, it took a couple of moments to figure out exactly what.
“Vanguard, altitude check.” Owens tapped his own display. “Are we at seventy thousand feet?”
“Affirmative.” Several of his team answered with the same exasperation.
“Seventy thousand!” Sandy was less restrained. “It was supposed to be fifteen! Those cowardly chucklefucks dropped us almost from orbit!”
That wasn't great news. The drop itself didn't matter too much, the jump jets would still do their job regardless of how far they fell. The issue was that it took a lot of time to fall from such altitude, time when they would be vulnerable to every hostile anti air weapon for hundreds of miles around. Normally if they were jumping at altitude they would have some sort of EW cover or they'd jump at much higher speed, freefalling from this height was a death sentence against any decent enemy.
There wasn't much to do. Owens considered using his jump jets to speed the descent but it was very risky, mechs weren't known for their aerodynamics. Likewise at this height drift was an issue, he needed his team to land within sight of each other in case they came under attack immediately after touchdown. It was very possible they could end up landing miles apart if they caught an air current or used their jets poorly. Even eighty ton warmachines weren't immune to weather.
His planning was interrupted by two fast moving blue streaks which flashed past between the falling mechs, each shape followed by spikes of fire pushing them forward.
“Lance Leader, Victor Leader, we have you.”
Another pair of fighters roared past and looped around, all wearing the sword and sun.
“Glad to have you Victor.” Owens answered. “Seems we'll be up here long enough to qualify for pilots wings.”
That got a laugh over the radio.
“They dropped you early and ran right?” Captain Jones snorted. “Fucking merc yahoos. No offence.”
“None taken.”
“Good news is we can't see any ground defences.” Jones informed. “Bad news is we have bandits inbound, enemy fighters.”
“Can we do anything?”
“Nothing that won't just get in our way.” Jones answered honestly, nobody sane brought a mech to a dogfight. “Just watch the show and make sure you are suitably impressed.”
“Will do Victor Leader, good hunting.”
Despite her confidence it was going to be a difficult oath to keep. Her unit was outnumbered and although their craft were superior a lot of that relied on them being able to use their speed to attack and disengage at will picking when and where to fight. They couldn't really do that with allies to protect which was going to make life interesting.
“All fighters break by flight and attack.” Jones gave the command. “Show these back-world yokels how professionals do it.”
The aerospace fighters split by formation and accelerated, some holding altitude while other pairs climbed and rolled over for a scything attack on the incoming hostiles. A brief alarm called out a radar lock followed by a missile warning as the defenders opened the game.
“Incoming! ECM to max and pop flares!”
The fighters took evasive action and employed countermeasures as missiles streaked by blinking past in less time than it took to even register them. In response the attackers retaliated with laser fire against the wildly twisting enemies.
“Get in closer but keep those throttles open!” She called to her wingmates. “Don't let them recover, break them up and destroy them by the numbers!”
From a distance it was an oddly beautiful spectacle seeing the white contrails of aircraft engines and missile wakes criss crossing the pale blue sky entirely detached from the lethal reality unfolding. Now and again a white trail ended in a sudden flash and puff of blacksmoke as a reminder that this display carried a hefty price.
“Thirty thousand and falling steady.” Owens confirmed with his team. “Drop zone is good, we should land pretty close.”
“No obvious contacts.” Henry triple checked with his high end scanners. “Could just be hiding though.”
“Keep your weapons hot, if you see anything light up don't wait for an order just blast it.”
“Aye sir.”
“Dropship Intrepid is releasing gunships.” Sandy informed as the ground grew ever nearer. “Arrival in three minutes.”
That would be their infantry back up and close air support, the unit commander apparently adjusting his timings to account for the longer drop the mechs were being forced to endure.
“Alright company this will be our first time fighting with our boys in a long, long while. Don't embarrass yourselves in front of the regulars.” Owens extolled his people. “Clean and by the book, sound off on touchdown and deploy into a crescent formation as soon as possible.”
Their air support had done its job pushing back the defending fighters but with more losses than had been planned. It was now Owens' turn to do his job and carry on where they left off. His computer counted down the altitude and warmed up the jets for an automated landing. Some pilots prefered to handle it themselves but Owens as company commander needed to keep his focus on his unit and the battle space constantly skimming his eyes over the horizon and monitoring his sensors.
With a final burst of noise and a warning to brace the jets kicked in with a brief but potent kick that bled off enough speed to turn a splat landing into a gentle touchdown. It was always a heartstopping moment and left the pilot reliant on his machine and the skill of his maintenance crew, it didn't take much to turn a combat drop into a very expensive and dramatic burial. Fortunately not this time, his machine hit the ground with a barely noticeable bump absorbed by the knees and hips as planned. As the legs sprung back up he shifted immediately into a quick paced advance striding over the soft ground as if he had always been there.
“Breaker Two, down and moving!”
“Breaker Three down and in position!”
“Jericho Leader taking position.”
One after another his company checked in and assumed a defensive posture fanning out into a half circle toward the expected enemy location. Their landing zone was a plain near the coast giving them a secure but flat site big enough to host the half dozen dropships scheduled to put down. First things first though.
“Vanguard Leader to Air Battalion, in position, no contacts.”
“Copy that, we're on our way. Commencing landing.”
The timing was impeccable, barely five seconds later the low growl of helicopter gunships heralded half a dozen small nimble warmachines skimming the ground to their target. They were barely at head height for a mech aggressively sweeping across the landing zone circling the perimeter and taking over as the first line of defence.
It was an excellent demonstration of timing and organisation, each stage of the landing preparing the way for the next. Troop carrying helicopters were the final part of the vanguard dropping in to hover slightly above the ground while platoons of green clad soldiers leapt out and took position to secure the area fully, the mechs and gunships all tying in to a true combined arms operation.
One by one the units reported in and confirmed the area was safe leaving Owens with the final say. Satisfied he called it in.
“Caliburn, Vanguard, landing zone secure. You are clear for touchdown.”
“Received Vanguard.” General Soult’s gravelly voice answered. “Starting our landing.”
*
Despite the adrenalin of the operation, the badly executed air drop of the mechs and the tangle with enemy fighters, things had gone fairly smoothly with no further enemy activity. The main force had landed and begun deploying the bulk of the combat units as night began to fall, the rotund dropships sitting on the ground looking like an oversized field of odd mushrooms. The mech team had been stood down once sufficient additional forces had arrived and were now grabbing some food before heading to sleep. When dawn arrived they would be fresh and ready to lead the advance.
Next to the dropships was the base camp created from a myriad of tents, pre-fabs and support trucks all staffed by Federated military personnel. They were the standard logistics train tagged onto every campaign from mechanics to cooks to medics and all sundries in between tasked with keeping the cutting edge sharp. Once the action began they would pack up into trucks and follow the advance while the dropships retreated to the relative safety of orbit.
The most popular location was the Mess Tent, a large canopy with rows of tables within and an industrial grade set of cookers keeping a series of massive metal pots boiling. Owens took his turn and waited in line as the cooks dished up whatever was on offer, some indescribable assortment of lumps floating in soup which nobody in their right mind would actually ask for. Owens kept his face straight as he picked up a tray and dutifully held it out for the cook to slop down a hefty helping of the substance before shuffling off to allow the next victim to step up. He had no idea what he had been served, odds were neither did the cooks, but it was hot and it was free which made it better than dry ration packs.
“Taffy! A voice called out to him. “Over here!”
He was beckoned over by Major Campbell who had secured a table for both of their Lances to eat in relative peace. He grabbed some coffee and took a place on the bench before saying a quick prayer.
“You saying Grace boss?” Johan curled a smile. “Never took you for the type.”
“Just asking for a little help before eating whatever this is.” Owens related honestly. “I don't want to spend the next six hours within sprinting distance of the latrines.”
“Amen to that.” Sandy empathised.
“Operation seems to be going well so far.” Donald dipped some bread in his soup. “When we get a spare moment we're going to find the guy who dropped us from the stratosphere and waterboard him.”
He said it conversationally but Owens had no doubt he was serious. He found himself with no objections.
“He got three of our aerospace pilots killed covering our backsides. Make sure you kick him in the balls at the same time.”
“You got it.” Lieutenant Tina Harris promised, Donald's scout pilot and recce expert.
“Everyone else seems to have made it in one piece.” Henry noted. “Any word on the enemy?”
“Nothing yet.” Owens shook his head. “We're a good five hundred miles from the primary target, give it a day or two.”
There were a few other platoons in the tent, a mix of regular soldiers and some mercs all eating separately. A few of the regulars kept glancing over to the mercs trying to get some measure of their allies and the people they might have to trust with their lives. Owens was largely doing the same, his history with the AFFS giving him a good basis for judging the quality of the troops.
“You think they are up to it?” Sandy read his mind.
“They aren't as good as we were, and they seem a little young.” Owens assessed.
“Everyone seems a little young these days.” His old friend quipped. “They aren't veterans.”
“No, but they are well drilled. They'll do the job.”
“It's smart.” Donald chipped in. “This is a risky operation behind enemy lines. You don't want to chance losing a top level unit, but you also don't want to send newbies who won't get the job done.”
”Just the right balance of effective and expandable.” Owens smiled. “Welcome back to the army.”
“What about the other mercs?”
“They didn't want to sit over here with the cool kids.” Captain Lee scoffed, Jericho Lance's Assault pilot. “Mediocre, they can pilot a mech but they don't have much warrior spirit.”
“We'll see what happens when they come under fire.” Donald reasoned. “But off the record, I'm only trusting your boys to watch our backs Taffy.”
“Likewise.” Owens echoed. “They've left me in charge of the mech units so I'll make sure we deploy side by side. If it comes down to it we'll probably have to carry the fight anyway.”
“Smart money says our army buddies have figured that out too.” Lee made an educated guess. “Watch them put us front and centre.”
“It's what they pay us for.” Donald shrugged and drained his cup. “Certainly didn't spend it on coffee.”
They were interrupted by the beep of a communicator each of them pausing to check which of them was the culprit.
“Mine.” Owens pulled the device from his pocket and noted a brief text message. “I have been summoned.”
He quickly wolfed down what was left and finished the coffee as he was standing up. The rest of the team continued to eat though somewhat more subdued, this was where things started to get more interesting.
There was no need to delay, the Colonel heading straight over to the well armoured command truck serving as mobile headquarters for General Soult and his staff, the massive comms dish crowning the vehicle marking it out from its surroundings. Outside were a few smaller vehicles owned by the various unit commanders all similarly gathered and interestingly a civilian off roader caked in mud which definitely wasn't part of the drop.
He was cleared through by the guards looking after the command truck and stepped up into its armoured belly to be met by a half dozen uniformed officers, Agent Janus and a middle aged hard eyed man in an old Draconis uniform.
“Colonel Owens.” Soult nodded in terse greeting. “This is General Toshiro Inada, he commands the forces seeking to overthrow Lord Mikuma's control of this world.”
“Greetings.” The rebel leader bowed his head. “You have my gratitude also Colonel, for you all to risk your lives here, we owe you.”
“Just doing my job General.”
“Now we are all here we can start.” Soult activated a large screen mounted into the wall beside him and called up a series of maps. “General Inada has brought us up to date intel on enemy strength and positions. They are far weaker than we had expected.”
“This world is considered a very low priority.” The rebel commander explained. “Most of the garrison is made of soldiers recruited locally who are loyal to their home first. They now take their orders from me.”
“Only a few units remain loyal to Mikuma, unfortunately they are well dug in.” Soult rumbled. “They have taken control of the only fortress on the planet and show no sign of leaving.”
“We estimate no more than a reinforced infantry regiment with some artillery and tank support.” Inada offered. “No aircraft, no mechs.”
“The fortress was built to halt a full scale mech attack, it's walls are thick and built to SLDF standards.” Janus picked up, the display showing several plans and images of the structure. “However that was when this world was an industrial hub. Since then the defences have fallen into disrepair and all of its heavy weapons and missile batteries are long gone.”
“A concentrated attack will breach the walls, then it's a job for the infantry” Soult nodded along. “General Inada's men will lead the attack, we will provide precision heavy support.”
“Even weakened storming a fort is bloody business.” Owens warned Inada. “Are your people ready for that?”
“They are.” He promised. “They may be militia but this is their home. They will not falter.”
“I'm not too concerned about the fort, we can siege it if we have to.” Janus shrugged. “The real game is going to be when Mikuma sends his mobile forces in to face us.”
“What happened with the HPG?” Soult inquired about the planetary FTL communications array.
“We have cut off loyalist access to the array, there was no harm to those who keep it.” Inada assured. “However I regret we were delayed in this action and the loyalists were able to send a signal before we seized it.”
“So Mikuma is going to know we're here.” Owens grimaced. “Nice.”
“He would have figured it out when the status reports failed to be sent anyway.” Janus remained unfazed. “At best it would have bought us an extra three or four days, as it stands we still have time until reinforcements show up.”
“How long is that?”
“Ten to fourteen days.” Janus estimated. “His forces are designed to be mobile so he'll gather them fast, though if he knows we are here he'll probably send a larger than average force.”
“What about other Draconis units?”
“Unlikely, we believe Mikuma will keep this to himself and send only his own trusted units. If he asks for help he'll have to explain how he lost this world in the first place, it would be a serious dishonour for a Lord.”
“The nearest force is Lord Oda.” Inada informed the room. “Mikuma hates Oda, they are old rivals and he would never bear the shame of his enemy learning of this.”
“That pride will be his downfall.” Janus broke a cold smile. “We'll meet him in battle, gut his forces and make him retreat.”
“And if he doesn't retreat?” Owens asked.
“We wipe him out, or he begs his neighbours for help. Either way that'll be the end of Mikuma. Good month's work.”
That sounded a little optimistic to Owens, Lord Mikuma was by reputation tyrannical but he wasn't a total fool. His forces tended to lean toward raids which put them at a disadvantage in a sustained fight, and he reckoned a Suns armoured regiment would give them a hell of a fight, but it was still wildly optimistic to imagine wiping them out. Bloodying them sure, knocking them down so they couldn't raid Suns space for a year or two, probably. But completely destroying them was a stretch.
“What did you manage to gather, General?” Soult asked his opposite number. “Have you had time for a full roster?”
“Yes, but now we are standing against Lord Mikuma more and more men and women are joining our cause every day.” Inada beamed with pride. “We are arming them and giving them basic training, they will bulk our reserves and support arms.”
“What about trained soldiers?”
“Most of the militia joined us, about twenty thousand infantry and two tank regiments. I've called up reservists which is another sixty thousand.”
On paper those were good numbers, but in practice it would hinge on their quality.
“How much experience do they have?” Owens tried to learn more.
“Some of the reservists and militia officers were once active duty DCMS.” Inada referred to the standing Draconis army. “All of them have been trained with their weapons and vehicles, they can fight.”
“Have they seen real action?”
“No, in honesty not much.” Inada allowed. “But their hearts are determined.”
“I don't doubt their courage, but infantry against hardened combined arms units rarely ends well.”
“With respect Colonel, that is why you are here.”
“It is.” Soult stepped in. “Our mechs and heavy armour will take on Mikuma's heavy units, your infantry handles the rest. That is our arrangement.”
“I also have five squadrons of multirole fighters and a carrier task force, sea going that is.” Inada finished. “All are very competent.”
“If we reach the capital soon we should also be able to take control of the ground to space defences.” Janus declared. “They aren't very extensive but it will stop Mikuma from dropping on top of us, make him land elsewhere and march to battle.”
“Meaning we can pick the ground we fight on.” Soult nodded. “Any advice will be welcome General.”
“I'll provide detailed surveys of the local area, once we know where Lord Mikuma will land I will help find the best place to face him.”
“Good. As promised General we have also brought some weapons to arm your volunteers. Twenty thousand rifles, two hundred shoulder launched missiles, a company of light tanks and five million rounds of ammunition.”
“Most excellent, you have my continued thanks.” Inada bowed again. “There is a rail hub close to here, I will arrange for them to be taken where they are needed.”
“Sounds like everything is in place then.” Janus gave a pleased smile. “We'll begin our advance at dawn, link up with your forces and make the capital in about three days.”
“Excellent.” Inada glanced around the room, his expression one of resolve. “I was unsure of this alliance, of your true intentions in assisting this uprising. But you are here now, you have stepped into danger and so for this battle we are brothers and sisters. I eagerly await our glorious victory.”
“So do I.” Janus bowed her head. “These next couple of months are going to be very memorable.”
Approaching Planet Amagi
“Twenty minutes to atmosphere. All hands man battlestations, all Mechwarriors to your machines.”
The announcement was accompanied by a cacophony of alarms and sirens calling the crew to action, personnel propelling themselves in zero gravity through hatches and along corridors to their posts. It was a sudden hive of activity after a week of not very much which pretty well described every space journey the passengers had observed. Now though things were getting very serious.
This was a full scale planetary assault and although opposition was predicted to be light nobody was taking that for granted. The dropships were going in expecting a fight and the various troops contained inside likewise weren't being complacent.
It had taken three jumpships in total to transport the assault force, one for Caliburn Regiment and it's logistics train with the mercenaries split between the other two along with their supplies and some generic munitions for the Amagi rebels. High Command had raided the junkyards and rustled up some Scorpion light tanks along with several pallets of infantry weapons which were being given to their new allies as a gift. Better than nothing, but not by much.
Most of the heavy carrying was going to be done by the forces Janus was bringing with the rebels mainly for securing territory once the professionals had finished. Last minute reports had stated the rebels had made their initial moves seizing an airbase and naval yard containing several warships. That had sounded great until they clarified it was a water based fleet, not space going warships. Still it would give the invasion sea supremacy and make them competitive in the air when the real business began.
“Just like old times!”
Donald roared out over the pulsing sirens as the mechwarriors glided into the hanger bay.
“Don't jinx it!” Sandy called back. “Last time we dropped on a Combine world it was a disaster.”
“We did well on Robinson, remember that one?” Owens recalled.
“But we were young and stupid back then.” His friend returned. “Now we're just old and stupid!”
“Speak for yourself!” Henry snorted. “This is easy money, no orbital defence weapons, no satellites, no aerospace fighters. This is just for show.”
“You believe all that?” Johan tutted. “ That's right up there with 'We'll all be home by Christmas.' We need to be alert.”
“He's right, if it was going to be that easy they wouldn't need to send so many of us.” Owens agreed. “We go by the numbers. Mount up and be ready for a hard landing.”
The two mech teams headed for their respective vehicles making use of the copious hand holds, railings and guide lines to get them from the crew area to their waiting mechs. Zero gravity was often disorientating especially as the dropship was firing its thrusters to adjust course and speed causing sudden peaks of acceleration, Whoever was piloting this thing was almost certainly not part of the AFFS and probably another less experienced merc hire.
Still they were at least on course and on schedule. Owens propelled himself along to the gantry holding his mech, the metal frame keeping it safe and secure while providing valuable hand holds for the maintenance crew.
“How are we Sergeant Cooper?” Owens spotted his crew chief waiting near the cockpit access.
“All good Colonel, fresh coolant, fully charged back ups, I even swept out the cockpit and threw out the snack wrappers.”
“Damn I miss the AFFS.” He exhaled. “Thank you Sergeant.”
While Donald's Jericho Lance had brought their own support teams, the nature of Owens' departure from previous employment had left his people alone. Janus had pulled a maintenance squad from one the army training units for them and while painfully young they had proven more than suitable to the task.
Sergeant Cooper helped Owens into his cooling gear and stood back while he dropped into the cockpit itself, pressing himself down in the zero gravity until he got his seatbelts clicked in.
“All connectors are good sir.” Cooper informed before handing over the neural helmet. “Give 'em hell Colonel.”
“Death or Glory Sergeant. See you down there.”
He pushed the helmet down over his head and made sure it was linked in to the mech central computer bringing the system up from standby. One after another his screens came to life showing all systems in prime condition and ready to go. Through the canopy he watched the various ground crew withdraw and close off the hanger bay behind them leaving just the combat forces now. It had gone from hectically busy to utterly still in just a few moments, even the sirens had now stopped as their duty was filled.
Now was the waiting, the period of apprehension and dread that preceded every operation. Some were worse than others but there was never a moment where everything was comfortable. Even the easiest missions carried the chance of unexpected death, something like this dropping onto an enemy world behind the frontlines with no chance of reinforcements? Yeah, that was breeding a healthy amount of concern.
Even the usual chat and banter Owens was so used to had faded away as his team checked and rechecked their systems. It was a time when everyone retreated into their own thoughts and reflections making peace with themselves. Perhaps they prayed or bargained with fate for good luck, perhaps they ran through a never ending series of pointless thoughts to drown out their fears. Everyone had their own way of dealing and Owens had never asked once in all these years what his comrades found. He considered it a private matter close to each man's heart and there it should stay.
“All hands be advised.” The dropship Captain tapped their comms. “Five minutes to atmosphere.”
*
The tactics for an opposed landing were well known and practiced with several different strategies depending on the level of support and opposition. In this case there was little of either which meant the operation would be over quickly and in theory with minimal losses. The landing itself was split into three waves, the first being a vanguard of mechs with infantry support, the second comprising the bulk of Soult's Regiment, and the final wave being the remaining mercenary forces. The Jumpship that had brought them was long gone with no easy way to get it back, if this for some reason didn't go well escape would not be possible.
The dropships themselves were armed but not heavily so, they could clear a landing zone of light opposition but weren't meant for a real fight and instead would rely on whatever they were carrying. The first card to be drawn being the wing of Aerospace fighters the Navy had so graciously loaned them.
“Victor Squadron, Sabre Squadron, Ripper Squadron, deploy on my mark.”
Captain Mary Jones keyed in the last few commands bringing the fighter to full readiness, the entire airframe vibrating as the engines built up power. Normally she would be launching from a warship which had a little more room to manoeuvre rather than the cargo deck of a dropship not really designed as a carrier. Still, these were her orders and her people were perfectly capable of seeing them through.
The bay doors cranked open in utter silence revealing space beyond, this particular dropship holding station above the planet where it would remain as an untouchable base for the fighters. While it didn't have any real space to ground weaponry it would serve as a makeshift comms and spy satellite supporting the ground forces in addition to hosting the fighter wing far from harm. It also carried the only other professional forces for the mission, a small team of Navy personnel overseeing and coordinating the other dropships to ensure a relatively controlled landing.
“All squadrons launch on my mark. Three, two, one, mark.”
The deployment was decidedly anticlimactic, their little carrier had no catapults so each plane simply nosed its way out gently on thrusters. It took a minute or two for all twenty craft to form up outside the carrier and then make their way to the planet.
“Skymaster, wing commander. Beginning descent.”
“Copy that, set de-orbit for grid sixteen. Be advised enemy fighter aircraft are launching, analysis shows air breathing jet engines.”
“Won't be a problem.” Jones answered with total confidence. Her fighters were in a different league from jet aircraft and while they weren't perfect any competent aerospace fighter pilot knew how to exploit their advantages in thrust, firepower and protection. “All squadrons lock course and begin descent. Aerobrake in thirty seconds, standby to engage once we reach mach three.”
As one the airwing burned their engines briefly to cut speed and put themselves on a curving course toward the planet. They approached backwards to get the best braking performance before rotating their craft and tilting the nose upward as they touched the atmosphere.
“Assume descent formation.” Jones ordered getting her fighters to space out so if one suffered an accident it's debris wouldn't bring down their squad mates. It took a few minutes for the fighters to slow down from orbital velocity dropping like a meteor shower burning bright in the sky. The undersides handled the heat easily enough protecting the more delicate weapons and sensors elsewhere. Unfortunately it meant the fighters couldn't carry underwing missiles leaving them entirely reliant on their guns.
Gradually their speed decreased as the atmosphere thickened bringing the fighter wing down to more normal combat velocities. They tilted nose down and fired up their engines scanning from high altitude for targets, their radar eyes spotting the incoming defensive aircraft.
“Victor wing form up by flights, bandits at twelve low, dropships four minutes behind us.” Jones listed. “Let's clear the way before they get here. Weapons free, fire at will.”
*
The dropship hit the sky hard rattling and jolting the vessel as it headed downward and the air thickened beneath it. This was a point of concern, the vehicle wasn't exactly in perfect condition as the grease stains and rust streaks had indicated when they had first boarded. Whether it could hold up to a particularly violent de-orbit was becoming more and more of a question. A normal crew would have adjusted their course to follow a more shallow and gentler path but it seemed the jokers piloting this thing just wanted it done as quickly as possible.
Owens enhanced his calm lining up a few songs on his cockpit speakers to keep his mind away from such concerns. It probably wouldn't matter much, if something went wrong at this point they'd all be dead before they knew it, they were still too high and too fast for even a mech to survive without proper ablative heat shields. Mostly the music was to prevent him getting out of his mech, heading up to the bridge and slapping the crew with a flight manual.
He smiled at the thought but restrained himself as it likely wouldn't be helpful. Funny but not helpful. Instead he hit repeat on 'Men of Harlech' for the sixth time and tried to absorb the sound.
This had once been his pre-battle ritual, his own particular method of hardening the sinews and firing the blood, burying his fear with determination and the need to get the job done. He would listen to songs which had worked for his ancestors and hope a little of their courage might find him. It had worked well in his youth but less so as he had grown older. Indeed this was probably the first time in years he'd listened to this before action, maybe being back with the Suns had stirred some dormant ember in his heart.
Owens had always taken some pride in his Welsh ancestry despite being centuries removed from the land of his fathers. His community had kept alive a lot of those traditions from the language to the songs as they lived out among the stars and Owens had continued to respect that. His blood was the blood of knights and warriors, his current profession was he hoped a way of carrying that duty onwards and making sure it did not die out.
There was an unusually loud clang from somewhere in the ship which did not sound healthy but happily didn't result in the disintegration of the vessel. In fact the buffeting had steadied somewhat and reduced itself more to a steady shudder accompanied by the rumble of engines. That meant they were now somewhere in the atmosphere and using engines to slow down rather than friction. They had survived step one of the journey, just a few thousand more steps to go.
“Mech team standby to jump.” The loadmaster informed them over the radio. “Doors opening, greenlight in ten seconds.”
The dropship itself wasn't going to touchdown immediately, it wasn't carrying enough firepower to clear its own landing zone so instead the mechs would go first. That involved them jumping from the ship as it hung in the sky, freefalling a few thousand feet, then using their jump jets to slow them down for a safe gentle landing. In theory. In practice it was always a risky move and in his career Owens had seen several mechs suffer a hiccup and hit the ground at terminal velocity. It was always an interesting tactic in the truest sense of the word.
The cargo doors popped open revealing pale blue sky beyond, wind whistling through the bay as the ship continued to fall though at a reduced rate.
“Vanguard Company, take jump positions.” Owens ordered. Thanks to his experience had been designated commander for the initial mech landings, four full lances including his own, Jericho Lance, and teams from the Rovers and Blades. At the same time a second dropship would be deploying the Air Mobile Infantry battalion Soult had brought which would back up the mech unit. They would be launching in VTOLs from their own dropship and flying in those to the target area, again a good way to keep the dropship safe but potentially very risky and requiring very steady pilots.
The bay lights suddenly turned green, the universal sign to get going.
“Alright Company, jump!”
He lead by example taking a quick breath and then stepping out into thin air. The mech dropped like a rock which was entirely expected, the machine avoiding the downward pointing dropship engines and finding itself clear of immediate danger. All systems showed green but something was a bit off, it took a couple of moments to figure out exactly what.
“Vanguard, altitude check.” Owens tapped his own display. “Are we at seventy thousand feet?”
“Affirmative.” Several of his team answered with the same exasperation.
“Seventy thousand!” Sandy was less restrained. “It was supposed to be fifteen! Those cowardly chucklefucks dropped us almost from orbit!”
That wasn't great news. The drop itself didn't matter too much, the jump jets would still do their job regardless of how far they fell. The issue was that it took a lot of time to fall from such altitude, time when they would be vulnerable to every hostile anti air weapon for hundreds of miles around. Normally if they were jumping at altitude they would have some sort of EW cover or they'd jump at much higher speed, freefalling from this height was a death sentence against any decent enemy.
There wasn't much to do. Owens considered using his jump jets to speed the descent but it was very risky, mechs weren't known for their aerodynamics. Likewise at this height drift was an issue, he needed his team to land within sight of each other in case they came under attack immediately after touchdown. It was very possible they could end up landing miles apart if they caught an air current or used their jets poorly. Even eighty ton warmachines weren't immune to weather.
His planning was interrupted by two fast moving blue streaks which flashed past between the falling mechs, each shape followed by spikes of fire pushing them forward.
“Lance Leader, Victor Leader, we have you.”
Another pair of fighters roared past and looped around, all wearing the sword and sun.
“Glad to have you Victor.” Owens answered. “Seems we'll be up here long enough to qualify for pilots wings.”
That got a laugh over the radio.
“They dropped you early and ran right?” Captain Jones snorted. “Fucking merc yahoos. No offence.”
“None taken.”
“Good news is we can't see any ground defences.” Jones informed. “Bad news is we have bandits inbound, enemy fighters.”
“Can we do anything?”
“Nothing that won't just get in our way.” Jones answered honestly, nobody sane brought a mech to a dogfight. “Just watch the show and make sure you are suitably impressed.”
“Will do Victor Leader, good hunting.”
Despite her confidence it was going to be a difficult oath to keep. Her unit was outnumbered and although their craft were superior a lot of that relied on them being able to use their speed to attack and disengage at will picking when and where to fight. They couldn't really do that with allies to protect which was going to make life interesting.
“All fighters break by flight and attack.” Jones gave the command. “Show these back-world yokels how professionals do it.”
The aerospace fighters split by formation and accelerated, some holding altitude while other pairs climbed and rolled over for a scything attack on the incoming hostiles. A brief alarm called out a radar lock followed by a missile warning as the defenders opened the game.
“Incoming! ECM to max and pop flares!”
The fighters took evasive action and employed countermeasures as missiles streaked by blinking past in less time than it took to even register them. In response the attackers retaliated with laser fire against the wildly twisting enemies.
“Get in closer but keep those throttles open!” She called to her wingmates. “Don't let them recover, break them up and destroy them by the numbers!”
From a distance it was an oddly beautiful spectacle seeing the white contrails of aircraft engines and missile wakes criss crossing the pale blue sky entirely detached from the lethal reality unfolding. Now and again a white trail ended in a sudden flash and puff of blacksmoke as a reminder that this display carried a hefty price.
“Thirty thousand and falling steady.” Owens confirmed with his team. “Drop zone is good, we should land pretty close.”
“No obvious contacts.” Henry triple checked with his high end scanners. “Could just be hiding though.”
“Keep your weapons hot, if you see anything light up don't wait for an order just blast it.”
“Aye sir.”
“Dropship Intrepid is releasing gunships.” Sandy informed as the ground grew ever nearer. “Arrival in three minutes.”
That would be their infantry back up and close air support, the unit commander apparently adjusting his timings to account for the longer drop the mechs were being forced to endure.
“Alright company this will be our first time fighting with our boys in a long, long while. Don't embarrass yourselves in front of the regulars.” Owens extolled his people. “Clean and by the book, sound off on touchdown and deploy into a crescent formation as soon as possible.”
Their air support had done its job pushing back the defending fighters but with more losses than had been planned. It was now Owens' turn to do his job and carry on where they left off. His computer counted down the altitude and warmed up the jets for an automated landing. Some pilots prefered to handle it themselves but Owens as company commander needed to keep his focus on his unit and the battle space constantly skimming his eyes over the horizon and monitoring his sensors.
With a final burst of noise and a warning to brace the jets kicked in with a brief but potent kick that bled off enough speed to turn a splat landing into a gentle touchdown. It was always a heartstopping moment and left the pilot reliant on his machine and the skill of his maintenance crew, it didn't take much to turn a combat drop into a very expensive and dramatic burial. Fortunately not this time, his machine hit the ground with a barely noticeable bump absorbed by the knees and hips as planned. As the legs sprung back up he shifted immediately into a quick paced advance striding over the soft ground as if he had always been there.
“Breaker Two, down and moving!”
“Breaker Three down and in position!”
“Jericho Leader taking position.”
One after another his company checked in and assumed a defensive posture fanning out into a half circle toward the expected enemy location. Their landing zone was a plain near the coast giving them a secure but flat site big enough to host the half dozen dropships scheduled to put down. First things first though.
“Vanguard Leader to Air Battalion, in position, no contacts.”
“Copy that, we're on our way. Commencing landing.”
The timing was impeccable, barely five seconds later the low growl of helicopter gunships heralded half a dozen small nimble warmachines skimming the ground to their target. They were barely at head height for a mech aggressively sweeping across the landing zone circling the perimeter and taking over as the first line of defence.
It was an excellent demonstration of timing and organisation, each stage of the landing preparing the way for the next. Troop carrying helicopters were the final part of the vanguard dropping in to hover slightly above the ground while platoons of green clad soldiers leapt out and took position to secure the area fully, the mechs and gunships all tying in to a true combined arms operation.
One by one the units reported in and confirmed the area was safe leaving Owens with the final say. Satisfied he called it in.
“Caliburn, Vanguard, landing zone secure. You are clear for touchdown.”
“Received Vanguard.” General Soult’s gravelly voice answered. “Starting our landing.”
*
Despite the adrenalin of the operation, the badly executed air drop of the mechs and the tangle with enemy fighters, things had gone fairly smoothly with no further enemy activity. The main force had landed and begun deploying the bulk of the combat units as night began to fall, the rotund dropships sitting on the ground looking like an oversized field of odd mushrooms. The mech team had been stood down once sufficient additional forces had arrived and were now grabbing some food before heading to sleep. When dawn arrived they would be fresh and ready to lead the advance.
Next to the dropships was the base camp created from a myriad of tents, pre-fabs and support trucks all staffed by Federated military personnel. They were the standard logistics train tagged onto every campaign from mechanics to cooks to medics and all sundries in between tasked with keeping the cutting edge sharp. Once the action began they would pack up into trucks and follow the advance while the dropships retreated to the relative safety of orbit.
The most popular location was the Mess Tent, a large canopy with rows of tables within and an industrial grade set of cookers keeping a series of massive metal pots boiling. Owens took his turn and waited in line as the cooks dished up whatever was on offer, some indescribable assortment of lumps floating in soup which nobody in their right mind would actually ask for. Owens kept his face straight as he picked up a tray and dutifully held it out for the cook to slop down a hefty helping of the substance before shuffling off to allow the next victim to step up. He had no idea what he had been served, odds were neither did the cooks, but it was hot and it was free which made it better than dry ration packs.
“Taffy! A voice called out to him. “Over here!”
He was beckoned over by Major Campbell who had secured a table for both of their Lances to eat in relative peace. He grabbed some coffee and took a place on the bench before saying a quick prayer.
“You saying Grace boss?” Johan curled a smile. “Never took you for the type.”
“Just asking for a little help before eating whatever this is.” Owens related honestly. “I don't want to spend the next six hours within sprinting distance of the latrines.”
“Amen to that.” Sandy empathised.
“Operation seems to be going well so far.” Donald dipped some bread in his soup. “When we get a spare moment we're going to find the guy who dropped us from the stratosphere and waterboard him.”
He said it conversationally but Owens had no doubt he was serious. He found himself with no objections.
“He got three of our aerospace pilots killed covering our backsides. Make sure you kick him in the balls at the same time.”
“You got it.” Lieutenant Tina Harris promised, Donald's scout pilot and recce expert.
“Everyone else seems to have made it in one piece.” Henry noted. “Any word on the enemy?”
“Nothing yet.” Owens shook his head. “We're a good five hundred miles from the primary target, give it a day or two.”
There were a few other platoons in the tent, a mix of regular soldiers and some mercs all eating separately. A few of the regulars kept glancing over to the mercs trying to get some measure of their allies and the people they might have to trust with their lives. Owens was largely doing the same, his history with the AFFS giving him a good basis for judging the quality of the troops.
“You think they are up to it?” Sandy read his mind.
“They aren't as good as we were, and they seem a little young.” Owens assessed.
“Everyone seems a little young these days.” His old friend quipped. “They aren't veterans.”
“No, but they are well drilled. They'll do the job.”
“It's smart.” Donald chipped in. “This is a risky operation behind enemy lines. You don't want to chance losing a top level unit, but you also don't want to send newbies who won't get the job done.”
”Just the right balance of effective and expandable.” Owens smiled. “Welcome back to the army.”
“What about the other mercs?”
“They didn't want to sit over here with the cool kids.” Captain Lee scoffed, Jericho Lance's Assault pilot. “Mediocre, they can pilot a mech but they don't have much warrior spirit.”
“We'll see what happens when they come under fire.” Donald reasoned. “But off the record, I'm only trusting your boys to watch our backs Taffy.”
“Likewise.” Owens echoed. “They've left me in charge of the mech units so I'll make sure we deploy side by side. If it comes down to it we'll probably have to carry the fight anyway.”
“Smart money says our army buddies have figured that out too.” Lee made an educated guess. “Watch them put us front and centre.”
“It's what they pay us for.” Donald shrugged and drained his cup. “Certainly didn't spend it on coffee.”
They were interrupted by the beep of a communicator each of them pausing to check which of them was the culprit.
“Mine.” Owens pulled the device from his pocket and noted a brief text message. “I have been summoned.”
He quickly wolfed down what was left and finished the coffee as he was standing up. The rest of the team continued to eat though somewhat more subdued, this was where things started to get more interesting.
There was no need to delay, the Colonel heading straight over to the well armoured command truck serving as mobile headquarters for General Soult and his staff, the massive comms dish crowning the vehicle marking it out from its surroundings. Outside were a few smaller vehicles owned by the various unit commanders all similarly gathered and interestingly a civilian off roader caked in mud which definitely wasn't part of the drop.
He was cleared through by the guards looking after the command truck and stepped up into its armoured belly to be met by a half dozen uniformed officers, Agent Janus and a middle aged hard eyed man in an old Draconis uniform.
“Colonel Owens.” Soult nodded in terse greeting. “This is General Toshiro Inada, he commands the forces seeking to overthrow Lord Mikuma's control of this world.”
“Greetings.” The rebel leader bowed his head. “You have my gratitude also Colonel, for you all to risk your lives here, we owe you.”
“Just doing my job General.”
“Now we are all here we can start.” Soult activated a large screen mounted into the wall beside him and called up a series of maps. “General Inada has brought us up to date intel on enemy strength and positions. They are far weaker than we had expected.”
“This world is considered a very low priority.” The rebel commander explained. “Most of the garrison is made of soldiers recruited locally who are loyal to their home first. They now take their orders from me.”
“Only a few units remain loyal to Mikuma, unfortunately they are well dug in.” Soult rumbled. “They have taken control of the only fortress on the planet and show no sign of leaving.”
“We estimate no more than a reinforced infantry regiment with some artillery and tank support.” Inada offered. “No aircraft, no mechs.”
“The fortress was built to halt a full scale mech attack, it's walls are thick and built to SLDF standards.” Janus picked up, the display showing several plans and images of the structure. “However that was when this world was an industrial hub. Since then the defences have fallen into disrepair and all of its heavy weapons and missile batteries are long gone.”
“A concentrated attack will breach the walls, then it's a job for the infantry” Soult nodded along. “General Inada's men will lead the attack, we will provide precision heavy support.”
“Even weakened storming a fort is bloody business.” Owens warned Inada. “Are your people ready for that?”
“They are.” He promised. “They may be militia but this is their home. They will not falter.”
“I'm not too concerned about the fort, we can siege it if we have to.” Janus shrugged. “The real game is going to be when Mikuma sends his mobile forces in to face us.”
“What happened with the HPG?” Soult inquired about the planetary FTL communications array.
“We have cut off loyalist access to the array, there was no harm to those who keep it.” Inada assured. “However I regret we were delayed in this action and the loyalists were able to send a signal before we seized it.”
“So Mikuma is going to know we're here.” Owens grimaced. “Nice.”
“He would have figured it out when the status reports failed to be sent anyway.” Janus remained unfazed. “At best it would have bought us an extra three or four days, as it stands we still have time until reinforcements show up.”
“How long is that?”
“Ten to fourteen days.” Janus estimated. “His forces are designed to be mobile so he'll gather them fast, though if he knows we are here he'll probably send a larger than average force.”
“What about other Draconis units?”
“Unlikely, we believe Mikuma will keep this to himself and send only his own trusted units. If he asks for help he'll have to explain how he lost this world in the first place, it would be a serious dishonour for a Lord.”
“The nearest force is Lord Oda.” Inada informed the room. “Mikuma hates Oda, they are old rivals and he would never bear the shame of his enemy learning of this.”
“That pride will be his downfall.” Janus broke a cold smile. “We'll meet him in battle, gut his forces and make him retreat.”
“And if he doesn't retreat?” Owens asked.
“We wipe him out, or he begs his neighbours for help. Either way that'll be the end of Mikuma. Good month's work.”
That sounded a little optimistic to Owens, Lord Mikuma was by reputation tyrannical but he wasn't a total fool. His forces tended to lean toward raids which put them at a disadvantage in a sustained fight, and he reckoned a Suns armoured regiment would give them a hell of a fight, but it was still wildly optimistic to imagine wiping them out. Bloodying them sure, knocking them down so they couldn't raid Suns space for a year or two, probably. But completely destroying them was a stretch.
“What did you manage to gather, General?” Soult asked his opposite number. “Have you had time for a full roster?”
“Yes, but now we are standing against Lord Mikuma more and more men and women are joining our cause every day.” Inada beamed with pride. “We are arming them and giving them basic training, they will bulk our reserves and support arms.”
“What about trained soldiers?”
“Most of the militia joined us, about twenty thousand infantry and two tank regiments. I've called up reservists which is another sixty thousand.”
On paper those were good numbers, but in practice it would hinge on their quality.
“How much experience do they have?” Owens tried to learn more.
“Some of the reservists and militia officers were once active duty DCMS.” Inada referred to the standing Draconis army. “All of them have been trained with their weapons and vehicles, they can fight.”
“Have they seen real action?”
“No, in honesty not much.” Inada allowed. “But their hearts are determined.”
“I don't doubt their courage, but infantry against hardened combined arms units rarely ends well.”
“With respect Colonel, that is why you are here.”
“It is.” Soult stepped in. “Our mechs and heavy armour will take on Mikuma's heavy units, your infantry handles the rest. That is our arrangement.”
“I also have five squadrons of multirole fighters and a carrier task force, sea going that is.” Inada finished. “All are very competent.”
“If we reach the capital soon we should also be able to take control of the ground to space defences.” Janus declared. “They aren't very extensive but it will stop Mikuma from dropping on top of us, make him land elsewhere and march to battle.”
“Meaning we can pick the ground we fight on.” Soult nodded. “Any advice will be welcome General.”
“I'll provide detailed surveys of the local area, once we know where Lord Mikuma will land I will help find the best place to face him.”
“Good. As promised General we have also brought some weapons to arm your volunteers. Twenty thousand rifles, two hundred shoulder launched missiles, a company of light tanks and five million rounds of ammunition.”
“Most excellent, you have my continued thanks.” Inada bowed again. “There is a rail hub close to here, I will arrange for them to be taken where they are needed.”
“Sounds like everything is in place then.” Janus gave a pleased smile. “We'll begin our advance at dawn, link up with your forces and make the capital in about three days.”
“Excellent.” Inada glanced around the room, his expression one of resolve. “I was unsure of this alliance, of your true intentions in assisting this uprising. But you are here now, you have stepped into danger and so for this battle we are brothers and sisters. I eagerly await our glorious victory.”
“So do I.” Janus bowed her head. “These next couple of months are going to be very memorable.”
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
Locals probably have some scores to settle with troops holed up in the fortress, so it's most likely no quarter asked or given. It's going to be a bloody storming.
In his case I reckon he never saw any real action, has extensive experience in political ass kissing and already sees himself as the future ruler of the world.
That is one thing to be certain of.
I'd be vary of any officer who uses such language. Either glory hound, idiot, megalomaniac or a traitor. Can be combination.
In his case I reckon he never saw any real action, has extensive experience in political ass kissing and already sees himself as the future ruler of the world.
That is 250 rounds per rifle, a bit light load, especially since resupply is not in sight
Quite a lot of militia troops there, at least for Battletech. Not a criticism, more of an observation, really. It's one of the problems of handling the peculiarities of the setting. Realistically, a force of that size given just the equivalent of light motorized equipment and ordinary infantry AT/AA weapons would be a good match for most actual BTech invasion forces...
Harlock
I should have expected that really
Very intentional, they'll also be quite old weapons too. Command isn't expecting any long term success here so they're thinking most of this stuff could end up in DCMS hands in a month or two when the real army shows up to impose order. They figure a bunch of old guns won't give any particular advantage to Draconis if they loot them off bodies, but to a backwater peasant levy they would look like someone really cares about them.
Which they don't
fair point
I was thinking militia on a low priority world like this would be more of a peasant levy than a real second line trained army like better worlds would have. Like they would maybe have a slide show on how a rifle works every couple of months, keep themselves physically fit, but not much else. Enthusiastic but apart from maybe the standing garrison they'll be there to fill the ranks and absorb bullets. Outlook isn't good
Mr. Chapel
New member
Interesting to see a Combine world trying to overthrow their lord. I was under the impression that, with the possible exception of the Rasalhague district, the people were so heavily indoctrinated that things like this did not occur. Certainly not in Galedon.
Which makes me suspicious.
Either Lord Mikuma is horrendous by Combine standards, or something else is going on, here. I guess we'll find out.
Which makes me suspicious.
Either Lord Mikuma is horrendous by Combine standards, or something else is going on, here. I guess we'll find out.
Oh, don't worry. As I said, it wasn't criticism, but rather more of a remark on how hard it is to combine Battletech canon sizes and the realities of actual planetary economic, population and military scales and still come up with a result that's true to the atmosphere of the setting.fair point
Enthusiastic but apart from maybe the standing garrison they'll be there to fill the ranks and absorb bullets. Outlook isn't good
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
I get a feeling that while this is rebellion is in the first place against Mikuma rather than Draconis Combine, Inada might be planning to turn on AFFS/mercenary force as soon as DCMS regulars arrive, with Janus fully expecting that, but keeping the expendable groundsloggers in the dark.
Any tanks they might have could easily be things that make those Scorpion's they are getting look top of the line. Something like a 20 ton tank with a medium rifle and machine gun. Worthless against actual Battlemechs, but good enough for suppressing revolting peasants.fair point
Enthusiastic but apart from maybe the standing garrison they'll be there to fill the ranks and absorb bullets. Outlook isn't good
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
You mean the part about honourable samurais turning cloak at the drop of a dime?