Posting this all as one post, it's in five parts on SB.
Bolan City, Disputed Territory
Bolan
Principality of Bolan/Marian Hegemony
29 January 3034
The last twenty-six hours of Dani Verdes' life had been the greatest ordeal she'd known since her mother drove her from the house at the age of eighteen.
Combat wasn't new. She'd seen it on Fianna and Radostov. The intensity, however, that was new. The planetary defenders of those worlds had barely been live fire exercises compared to the ferocity with which the Marians resisted their expanding landing zone. Even where their machines were sometimes subpar, they fought tenaciously and forced the Arcadian troops to earn every meter in fire and blood. It was already being said that the Arcadian Rangers' battle armor contingent took half the unit in casualties during the fighting, and as Marian reinforcements moved up that was sure to get worse.
She had other problems. Charlie Company's job was to hold a major throughway that would link them to the city center and the Bolanese defense perimeter. The Marians undoubtedly realized what that meant, so over the last several hours they'd send a couple of company-sized attacks to test the defenses… and were now putting what felt like an entire battalion in the field against them.
A shot from a
Bulldog battle tank chipped armor from the hip of her
Marauder. She might have shot the thing with a PPC, but she was already running hot from finishing off a Marian
Grasshopper and her heat levels wouldn't let her fire just yet, not without risking an ammo cookoff. She maneuvered her 'Mech to the side to avoid at least some of the incoming missile salvo from the tank.
Several emerald beams speared the tank's front plate, hitting in close enough proximity that one drilled through and set off the ammunition inside the tank's body. The machine blew apart from the inside.
At Dani's side, Lt. Jonny Kono's
Thunderbolt looked battered. The right arm was missing, depriving the machine of a large-caliber laser, but the trio of torso-mounted medium lasers could still fire for effect as they just had.
"I owe you one, Charlie One-Four."
"
Don't mention it, One-Two. Just keep our Prince alive, ya?" Jonny spoke English with the particular accent of an Iaukean Islander, a unique people on Arcadia of combined Polynesian, Balinese, Filipino, and Papuan descent.
"Trying," she promised, turning her attention to a
Centurion about to menace Prince Thomas. She fired on the machine with her autocannon, tearing armor from its torso and drawing its attention… and it's fire. Golden flame on its right arm accompanied the autocannon shells that stripped her left arm down to the myomer.
The arm was still functional, though, and with her heat reduced further Dani brought both of her arm-mounted PPCs to bear. The extended range Star League model weapons packed a punch. Cerulean energy flayed armor from the fittingly-named Marian machine. Two PPC hits were enough to worry a pilot in such a machine, but this one took a third, as Prince Thomas recognized the threat and fired a shot into his prospective attacker as well. Smoke billowed from inside the
Centurion's torso. They'd hit something vital.
Another contact was already showing up in red on her secondary flat display. The holotank shifted to show the new threat; an
Orion. Before she could adjust to meet it the hip-mounted autocannon of the heavy 'Mech fired. Only a last minute turn kept most of the barrage from striking in its entirety to tear the arm off, but she lost what was left of the armor and got a warning light for actuator damage in the elbow.
One PPC nearly useless… couldn't have fired again from the heat anyway. Dani brought her right arm up and squeezed off a shot. She thought she'd miss given the
Orion pilot's movement, but it wasn't enough to keep her shot from playing over the side of its torso above the hip autocannon. The excited particles of the cannon burned deep into said armor…
In an expanding cloud of flame and metal, the entire side of the
Orion came apart, sending the weapon-tipped arm flying away. Dani could hardly believe her luck.
Got through the armor, hit his AC ammo. It all cooked off. Lucky shot!
The
Orion's woes weren't over yet. A barrage of missiles descended on the machine, pummelling it with at least forty projectiles, over half of which connected. The pilot struggled in vain to keep his war machine from falling over.
The perhaps temporary loss of his ally didn't stop the
Centurion from fighting back as well. After discharging their autocannon at Thomas'
Black Knight, the pilot swapped targets and fired the medium lasers and missile launcher on the machine's torso.
The laser hits cut through the
Marauder's left arm like a scalpel. The limb's indicator on her status screens went black, showing it as lost. Dani gave little attention to it as she was busy trying to keep her machine standing against the missiles pummeling it, seven in all. With some effort the
Marauder didn't lose its footing.
"
Charlie 1-2, watch your six," Jonny warned.
"What, we've got them behind us?!" Dani tracked the
Centurion with her remaining PPC and autocannon. Shots from both blew into the torso of the machine. Its autocannon-mounted right arm fell dead, still attached to the machine but unmoving. Another barrage of missiles from the fire support unit hit the
Centurion until it toppled, a smoking ruin made of its heart.
"
Negative, 1-2," said Thomas, his voice grave. "There are civilians back there."
Dani had only a moment to see what he meant, but she gasped at it. WIth the other roadways blocked off or in Marian hands, this was the only feasible route for people fleeing the combat zone and the prospect of a Marian-ruled Bolan. Her sensors showed their vehicles as they raced along, trying desperately to not be noticed.
I don't know what the Marians will do to them, but they clearly don't care about shooting in their direction, she thought
But someone has to. Remembering her place as Lance Lieutenant for Prince Thomas, she gave a firm order. "Everyone stay focused, and keep them off the road. We have to keep them off this road!"
The others affirmed the order. Despite the heavy damage to her machine, Dani pressed on through the fight.
For all his life, Angus Campbell never saw such ferocious fighting as this. The McAffe native had twenty years of experience that included being one of the few journalists that the mad High General Cutter of the Cutter Brigade allowed to remain embedded with his troops. He'd seen much of the heavy fighting on Hollabrunn when the Free March annihilated Cutter's psychopathic mercenaries.
But even their bloody demise didn't have the destruction that over six months of continuous warfare brought to Bolan. Bolan City had some intact quarters, but only those sections of the city that fell quickly to Marian invasion; this section and many others were filled with half-destroyed buildings or just outright piles of rubble.
Campbell and his crew were embedded with the Arcadian military for the duration of the campaign. After signing the usual forms affirming their awareness of the risks and that they would abide by the laws of war, they headed off under an escort of MPs and battle armored soldiers to get a glimpse of Bolan City. The residents were running low on food, as were the besieged Bolanese troops, and even the Marians were reportedly being careful with rations. Bolan was a dry, mountainous world, and it did not yield crops easily.
After some interviews and a near miss with a maniple of Marian soldiers, Campbell and his crew joined a convoy heading back to the Arcadian zone. The refugees in it were eager to take up the Arcadian relocation offer, especially those in the liberated slave camps.
Despite his hopes, they didn't make the journey quietly. They were partway out of the city when the first explosions were heard. Some drivers peeled off but most kept going, eager to get to safety as they were. The people here were used to explosions.
And then it came. A fierce fight on the northwest side of the road. BattleMechs - Arcadian and Marian - were in a hot firefight.
"Put th' bloody camera that way!" Campbell shouted at his man. Donald Kildare was the fellow's name, and he seemed determined to defy his own name by being, well, something of a pantywaist, Campbell thought. Sure, he was just brave enough to be here, but he didn't understand the nature of the job to know where to look.
Still, he did at least listen, and now their holo-camera was pointed squarely at the fighting. Campbell knew enough about the machines to recognize the
Centurion - in Marian colors - and the
Marauder, and it was the latter machine he had the focus put onto as the pilot pulled off some maneuvers and took some really skilled shots. The single shot that blew the side off another big humanoid 'Mech was a thing of beauty.
In fact, it was perfect. This whole thing was perfect. This was the kind of footage embedded journalists would kill to have to their name.
Missiles from the
Centurion pummelled the
Marauder while twin laser beams cut the arm off the machine. A couple missiles flew past and rained down around the road. A shockwave hit their vehicle and the driver nearly lost control.
Kildare dropped the camera and ducked back down. Campbell did look for cover for a second, after which he rose. "Well, get the camera back on!" he shouted.
"To hell with that!"
"Bloody useless…" Campbell picked up the machine himself. It looked like it was no longer transmitting, but it could record. He'd just have the rest of the footage sent out later.
Maybe I'll finally get a show of my own…
AFMS Galatine
Arcadian Landing Zone
The end of the second day of fighting satisfied Major General Armstrong. The Baroness of Briggs had her troops planetside without major losses and the Marian troops were just now starting to check their expansion. What forces had initially opposed them - mostly older and often beaten up machines - were falling back from significant casualties.
Still, she had concerns. The 5th and 6th Legions were only now starting to engage, spending most of the last day hotly engaged with Bolanese troops acting to tie them down. Once they were against the perimeter, it would be harder fighting to keep expanding that, even if they wished its expansion.
The campaign was, indeed, only yet beginning, and it was no time to get overconfident. The Marians had the edge in sheer combat experience, and it was up to the AFFM to overcome that. It simply remained to be seen if they would.
Marathi Ridge
Near Mumbai, Bolan
Principality of Bolan/Marian Occupation Zone
16 February 3034
After two and a half weeks of heavy fighting, something was bound to go wrong for the Arcadian forces. It was Prince Mark's misfortune that it came down on his unit.
The 1st Free March Cavalry Brigade's charge on Mumbai to open up an evacuation route won initial successes, driving back elements of the Marians' Legio V to approach within twenty kilometers of the city. It was only as they got into the outskirts that the Marian plan became evident. Legio VI and elements of what was left of the Gladiator regiments counter-attacked on the flanks of their advance. Now the 1st Launum Armored Cavalry were fighting desperately to keep contact with the vanguard formation, the Hyde Lancers.
The fighting was especially fiercest with Mark's company. While their air cavalry formations and aerospace support fought over their heads, his unit was busy trying to hold the Marathi Ridge's northern face against numerically-superior Marian troops. BattleMechs and tanks provided cover for the Marian infantry trying to get in close with their satchel charges and man-portable Inferno SRMs. The battle armor company assigned to back up 1st LAC fought them off as best as they could, but between the artillery shells and the fire from the 'Mechs and tanks, they were taking losses they couldn't sustain.
Mark's focus was on the enemy armor and 'Mechs, directing his lance's fire as best as he could. Vickers'
Centurion's long range missiles battered a Marian
Manticore tank with the cooperation of the autocannon and long range missiles from Neumeyer's
Shadow Hawk. Selassie's
Crab let loose a fusillade of laser fire on a Marian
Assassin drawing too close. Mark brought his crosshairs over and triggered a full strike on the 'Mech from his
Fusilier's weaponry. Autocannon shells tore into the machine's shoulder while the ruby beam of his left arm's laser narrowly missed the head.
The torso-mounted weapons hit home, the other medium laser and the PPC catching the
Assassin in the knee. The pilot tried to catch himself, but couldn't stop the 'Mech from toppling over. Before he could rise Selassie and Vickers pumped laser fire and an autocannon burst into the machine's thinner rear armor. Fusion plasma briefly surged from within, signalling an engine hit, before ceasing. The 'Mech stopped moving.
The
Manticore fired its PPC… and the cerulean blast went clear through Vickers' cockpit.
Mark's heart froze. His comrade was dead. Just… gone. Like that. Inside there would be nothing but some carbonized muscle and bone.
His 'Mech shook from the impacts of missiles. The
Manticore fired some of them, but the others came from a
Centurion coming up with the rest of its lance and a fresh platoon of Marian armor. Mark checked for his side. "Bravo Lance here, enemy reinforcements, artillery support requested."
"
Already denied," Captain Harrow said. "
Hold, Lieutenant. If we get pushed back the Hyde Lancers won't make it out."
"Everyone, fire for effect, starting with that damned
Manticore!"
The lance heeded the order. Autocannon shells, long range missiles, and laser fire lashed out at the machine until its front plate disintegrated. Mark's PPC blew through the remaining structure and gave its crew the same terrible end that Lieutenant Vickers received.
The medium lance of Marian 'Mechs returned fire with vigor, scoring several hits on all three machines. Beneath their notice, the Marian infantry was coming up on the ridge line, a number of them already preparing their SRM launchers while another set up a recoilless rifle. The battle armored troops from both sides met in a fierce collision, ensuring neither could aid the 'Mechs or stop the infantry.
If only one of the anti-infantry lances were here, he thought, bringing his lasers down toward the ground. A flash of ruby left two dead Marians and a destroyed rifle. A second flash caught a trooper about to lug his Inferno launcher onto his shoulder.
But there were more, and their missiles started firing. A few missed, but those that hit left burning napalm on the surface of Selassie's
Crab, the heat of the chemicals in the payload certain to make the 'Mech unable to maintain its firing rate. Until the fuel of the reaction was consumed, the
Crab was going to burn.
His 'Mech stuttered as recoilless rifle rounds, armor-piercing ones, started chipping his armor away. Reflexively he triggered his PPC at one of the groups, killing an entire squad with the shot.
Only then did he realize his mistake. Or rather, his mistakes.
While his comrades kept up with his orders, the firepower they had to bear only resulted in a hobbled
Vindicator, and the other 'Mechs were now in close range. Had he joined them, more damage might've kept them back. That was mistake one.
Mistake two was not recognizing the lack of medium laser ports on the
Centurion.
Now that it had the range, its autocannon arm came up and fired. Mark moved his machine to evade with no avail; the Marian pilot's aim was still true. Powerful shells ripped through armor and tore some of the guts out of his PPC, rendering the weapon inoperable. He switched his autocannon to its expanded burst fire mode and pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
He noted the red light on his status screens.
Ammunition jam!
"
All lances, pull back!" Harrow ordered over the line. "
Artillery strike inbound!"
"Pull back!" Mark shouted, sending his comrades and their supporting forces back over the top of the ridge. Still aflame, Selassie's
Crab made it first, another recoilless rifle shot striking it in the shoulder as it got over the ridge line. Neumeyer's
Shadow Hawk jumped into the air, flying backward with lasers and missiles firing even in mid-air as harassment fire more than effective shots.
That left his machine. He backed it up, firing his medium lasers again and again at the
Centurion with its menacing heavy autocannon. Laser fire melted armor from his machine's torso as he did, but his armor held against them. He felt the
Fusilier's feet crest the ridgeline and took a step down.
The
Centurion's autocannon fired again.
The shells tore through the weakened armor on the
Fusilier's leg and blasted the bone in two. Mark cried out in surprise as his 'Mech toppled over, a cripple with just one leg. The 'Mech being laid out on its back at least gave him the chance to shoot back, which he did as a speedy
Assassin crested the ridge first. His lasers joined with Neumeyer's autocannon and Selassie's available lasers, melting scores of armor from the machine, but they hit nothing vital.
The incoming artillery strike did the rest. On the opposite side of the ridge explosion after explosion sent tremors through the earth, creating a wall of flame that Mark imagined could be a gate to Hell itself. The
Assassin was caught from behind by anti-'Mech cluster rounds from the incoming artillery, blasting its weak rear armor and blowing the machine apart.
I hope the infantry got out too, Mark thought.
I'm not sure what could survive—
An artillery shell went off overhead. For an instant there was a shower of glass and the feeling of sharp pain everywhere… and then nothing.
AFMS Galatine
Arcadian Landing Zone
17 February 3034
Major General Armstrong was not a happy woman.
The Mumbai operation was a disaster. The Marians sacrificed some of their garrison-quality units, and elements of what was left of their Gladiator regiments, to bring the bulk of both their main line legions down on the Free March Cavalry. Now the Hyde Lancers were virtually gone, with not even a company's worth of machines and pilots left, and the other battalions were so damaged they were effectively
hors d'combat. Good for nothing but serving as walking wounded to help keep order for the evacuating civilians.
The presence of Admiral Andros was another matter of instinctive contention. As far as Armstrong was concerned, she should remain in space with her ships and leave the fighting to Armstrong and her staff, and having her come down for any reason felt like an intrusion by the Navy into Army matters.
The final reason for her unhappiness was why she couldn't blame Andros for her presence.
The two of them stood quietly in the tiny observation room for the
Gallatine's surgical theater. Through the glass, Army surgeons were working feverishly to keep the March-Princess' son alive, with the outcome still uncertain.
"It was friendly fire?" Andros asked.
"An artillery round fell short," Armstrong said, her voice firm and subdued. "He was covering his lance's retreat and had his machine crippled, so he was not in the absolute safety zone. We also lost two squads of battle armor covering the retreat of their comrades."
"And now I have to report to the Command Staff what happened."
"War is chance. They'll understand," Armstrong said. "He's not the only man we've lost these last two days. The Marians have recovered their poise and fighting hard to keep us from getting into other cities. We're going to need to begin the withdrawal in the next two weeks to meet our timetable."
"We'll be ready to cover for you. The transports we sent back to Gypsum to unload the evacuees should be back by then."
"They'd better be, or we're going to have a tough situation."
"I've seen the tent cities and camps, I know. But we'll get them out. That's what we came here to do."
You mean my people will get them out, with their own blood and sweat, while your spacemen watch from beyond the killing. It was an unworthy thought, but a natural one. She wouldn't feel guilt over it.
Although if those Marian warships get involved, the shoe will be on the other foot. Ha, that would serve me right, wouldn't it?
Quietly she turned her attention back to the theater, watching the operation unfold alongside Admiral Andros, and waiting to see if she would have to write a letter of condolence to the March-Princess herself.
Planetary Defense Command
Bolan City, Bolan
Principality of Bolan/Marian Occupation Zone
7 March 3034
There was scarcely a moment to rest at this point in the campaign. With time ticking down and military intelligence confirming Marian reinforcements were en route and would touch down by the end of the month, if not sooner, the order was given to end the evacuation. Now the Arcadian troops were beginning to contract their perimeter slowly, buying time for straggling evacuees to come in. Within four days, they would be lifting off.
Despite misgivings from Admiral Andros, General Armstrong herself permitted Brigadier van Reiter to leave Thomas in the frontlines, which was why his company was now in position at the Bolanese Planetary Defense Command. While the PDC was linked to the perimeter and had been for weeks, the focus on the other operations meant it was still as manned as when the Arcadians showed up. That would end today. Inside combat engineers from both services were making the final demolition procedures while on the outside the non-essential personnel and some of the remaining combat troops pulled out via APCs and commandeered vehicles.
"
We came just in time," Dani said over the radio. "
If we hadn't shown up, I doubt they'd still be here."
"Probably not. But it's best not to say anything," he replied.
"
Didn't plan to."
Thomas split his attention between his personal screens and the tac-comm lines. The Marians were pushing aggressively not far from here, trying to fight their way to the major Bolanese factories, but their troops were putting up a stubborn defense now that they had Arcadian-provided supplies and repairs to fight with.
"
They're fighting awfully hard for a delaying action."
So they are. What are the Bolanese up to?
The vehicles that came out now included cargo trucks bearing damaged yet serviceable VTOL craft. A line of repaired 'Mechs in the colors of the Principality Guard followed. Whatever their capabilities before the invasion, the Bolanese MechWarriors who survived the siege carried themselves like veterans, and Thomas would welcome fighting at their side any day.
His systems identified a particularly unique machine, a
Phoenix Hawk LAM. He keyed over to the agreed-upon comm channel with the Bolanese. "Your Highness, good to see you in health."
"
Your Highness. A pleasure to see you again, and my prayers for your noble brother's recovery." Princess Amita's voice was carefully toned as ever, her English spoken with a distinct Bolanese accent. "
We are almost complete with our preparations. I will remain here until the last of our troops withdraws."
"Then we shall remain too," he replied. "My orders are clear in that regard."
"
So they are. I admit that I welcome a company of BattleMechs with Star League technology as an ally, if only we had fielded such machines months ago things might be different."
The comment sounded innocent, but Thomas heard the edge in it. Nor could he be surprised.
Had we come six months ago, we might have thrown the Legions off Bolan. We might not have saved the Principality, but we might at least have saved Bolan.
It wasn't that simple, of course. The invasion hadn't been expected, and the Arcadian military was already in motion surging rimward to make a border with the Mariks. Given the near-dozen jumps between those worlds and Bolan due to the placement of inhabited systems, they would've never arrived before October, perhaps November, well after most of the damage was done.
And it implied Arcadia could throw them back, a prospect that the recent weeks' fighting showed to be difficult. For all the disgust the Marians' embrace of slavery enkindled in the Arcadian people, their martial prowess was regrettably undeniable.
In the end, he let the comment pass without a word.
They waited in some silence as more vehicles and 'Mechs passed. In the distance a great explosion flowered over the Bolan skyline, quickly joined by more. Thomas watched with some incredulity at it.
The Galatine
couldn't be firing into the city, could it? Could the Long Tom even wreak such havoc?
"
They succeeded. Good."
Amita's remark drew his attention back to her. "Succeeded at what, Highness?"
"
My forces have set off demolition charges in our BattleMech factories. The Marians have inherited naught but rubble." Her voice had a bitter edge. "
I will not deny we did not use those factories wisely, but the Marians would be even more undeserving of their output."
I can't disagree with her there, Thomas thought,
and on both counts. Bolan caused so much trouble with its 'sell to anyone' policies…
As time passed more units came by, bearing battle damage. Thomas realized they must have been the forces holding the factories long enough for the engineers to do their work. Now they marched on to guard what proved to be the last convoy. After another ten minutes, several more APCs and personnel vehicles pulled out of the PDC.
"
The charges are set, Your Highness. We should depart."
"Agreed. We'll take the rear."
Amita's 'Mech made a nodding motion. She and a lance of surviving Bolanese 'Mechs continued ahead of the last vehicles. Thomas' company took up the rear. As they got to the half-kilometer mark, the city around them lit up from a fireball, such that Thomas was certain the center of the Bolanese military was no more.
Bolan's industries are rubble now, as is the heart of her military. The soul remains though. I wonder how Caesar Sean will take it...
Arcadian Landing Zone
Near Bolan City, Bolan
Principality of Bolan/Marian Occupation Zone
15 March 3034
Brigadier Rayhan of the 1st Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry stood on the command deck of the
AFMS North Star and kept his eye on the clocks. They were running behind schedule for the liftoff due to the excess number of refugees that made it through before the Marians closed off all the roads into the LZ. Now packing all of these people into the
North Star and the other transports was taking up time, valuable time, while his regiment's embarkation was being hopelessly delayed.
He noted a call come in for him from the
Galatine. At a button press the cold blue eyes of Major General Armstrong were directed at him. "
Brigadier, what's the status of your loading?"
"Delayed, General. We're still processing the last refugees, and I've had to send ship's crew to help keep them from fighting for space aboard."
Her eyes narrowed. "
It's imperative we launch in conjunction, do what you can to get them aboard and get your units embarked. Armstrong out."
Rayhan bristled. There was little he could do that didn't involve simply refusing to board more refugees, which might start a riot and make things worse. All he could do was pass down the order to his subordinates to do everything possible to expedite the process.
"We are held back by the need to balance their food supplies with our own," a lieutenant said from nearby. "Perhaps we should just them board? If we run low on edibles we can ask the other ships for more."
"If we just let them come aboard they will be an even greater nuisance," Rayhan replied. "This must be done with organization. See to it."
He returned his attention to the scene outside of the
North Star and the other ships in the Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry's LZ. With the carriers providing top cover he'd already had the unit's fighter wing recovered and stowed on the transports. Damaged 'Mechs were likewise aboard, but the remains of his infantry and the other 'Mech units, as well as the artillery, were all still deployed. Given the skirmishing around the perimeter, he couldn't afford to bring them back in until they were ready for liftoff. Which had to wait while the refugees were processed and assigned spaces aboard each ship to avoid overcrowding.
He was just about to ask about their progress when a call came over their tac-comm links. "
Command, this is 1st Battalion Company Bāʾ, enemy forces attacking on our sector, we need assist—" The line cut abruptly.
While the
North Star didn't have the command facilities of a
Fortress-type DropShip, it did have a rigged holotank on the bridge for ground command capability. Rayhan gestured to it and an NCO dutifully went to work. The holotank came alive, showing a section of his unit's perimeter. Red icons surged through a screen of blue ones, numerous enough that it was clear that a major Marian counterattack was underway.
Over the next twenty minutes, Rayhan rallied his units as best as he could. But with so many of them re-embarked or damaged, they couldn't maintain cohesion in the critical minutes after the Marian breakthrough. The legions of the Periphery's New Rome were poised to charge right up to the
North Star and the other DropShips, and the result would be a slaughter, a slaughter of the evacuees still being boarded and of his troops.
"
Galatine is bringing her Long Tom to bear on our behalf," reported a comm officer. "They're firing now."
The barrage, when it came, was the kind that could break most attacks. But whether through discipline or anger or sheer bloody-mindedness, the Marian charge continued through the barrage. The force, an ad hoc combination from the 5th and 6th Legions, refused to let anything stop them, brushing past Rayhan's troops with little care.
After weeks of frustration, after having their glorious conquest of Bolan spoiled and their trophies snatched from them, after having the captives that would have enriched them with their bounties taken away, the Marian troops were having their day, and there was nothing Brigadier Rayhan could do to stop them.
Outside of the relative safety of the DropShips, Lt. Colonel Sergei Semyenov directed the 19th Free March Artillery's efforts to help hold the line. But the enemy's charge was too quick and their forward spotters were too swiftly overwhelmed. The battle armor troops were worn down and struggling with loss, and the light 'Mechs had already embarked and couldn't provide the spotting necessary. All he could do was fire blind.
Uncultured Periphery barbarians, he snarled to himself while considering the terrible fact before him: his command was doomed. The 19th's vehicles were not swift, and not very well armored, and there were hundreds of terrified Bolanese between them and the DropShips. If he pulled them back to try and get them away, he would only add to the chaos hindering the evacuation. And that… that left only one option.
"All gunners, man your batteries!" he cried. "Depress the guns and establish defensive positions!"
He'd trained the 19th well, and his men and women did not question his order, knowing as they did he was denying them escape. The artillery gunners of the 19th went t work, moving their vehicles into place and lowering the guns. Turning them, effectively, from howitzers into literal cannons. Anti-armor cluster rounds were loaded at a single command.
The first Marian 'Mechs to approach were light models,
Panthers and
Javelins and
Stingers rushing ahead to continue destabilizing the Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry's defensive posture. Semyenov carefully guessed the ranges and, when he felt the right moment was at hand, gave the order to fire. The artillery vehicles thundered with fury, looking more like tanks or self-propelled anti-tank guns at that moment than they did artillery pieces. Their shells boomed across the ground until the preset range was met and their fuses went off. A spray of armor-piercing shrapnel perforated several of the leading Marian 'Mechs, shredding the thin armor of the machines and their cockpits. Several toppled, their pilots killed instantly, and others staggered under the shots.
Semyenov's men already had the next rounds loaded. "Fire!" he shouted once more, and another wave of explosive rounds struck home. They too detonated in mid-air, creating great explosive shockwaves that toppled the light 'Mechs still standing.
The Marian charge faltered, if for an instant, before the first of the fast mediums rushed in, the
Cicadas and
Vindicators and
Assassins of the Legions. Semyenov's guns fired once more, again with the anti-armor cluster shells, and while they inflicted damage they did not claim as many of these more-thickly protected machines. A number of the machines returned fire as best they could, and while their shots mostly missed, those that connected did terrible damage. One of Semyenov's pieces blew apart from a PPC hit, then a missile struck the ammunition storage of another. The cries of burning, dying men echoed around him, but Semyenov did nothing but give another order to fire, again and again, not flinching at the approaching enemy.
While the artillery continued to fire, the Marian charge did not lose impetus, and in minutes they would be in the midst of the DropShips. They were on the cusp of success.
...if not for the counter-charge.
Lt. Colonel Fariq Hadi walked his
Marauder off of the
North Star with a handpicked company of MechWarriors from all of the assembled battalions. Thirty machines strong, theirs were the least damaged, and the pilots, among the most skilled and brave. Amongst them came all of the remaining armored troopers of the Rayhan House Guards, a company and one and a half platoons in strength. The Bolanese refugees parted as the sea before them, as did the regimental personnel trying to keep the evacuation as organized as possible. The thunder of the artillery guns could be felt even inside his machine, or so it seemed.
It was when they were in range to see the approaching Marian companies of BattleMechs and armor that he keyed his tac-comm. "Come, my friends. We will hold the pagans until our comrades can get the civilians away. And I will see you again in Paradise,
Inshallah." He let his crosshairs settle over a Marian
Shadow Hawk and tensed his fingers on the triggers. Twin PPC bolts joined a barrage of shells that stitched across the machine. One of the bolts missed, barely, and the other struck the armored housing of the other 'Mech's shoulder autocannon.
The others joined him in opening fire, joining that of the surviving artillery guns. Hadi keyed his comms and external speakers to transmit together and let out the joyous cry he felt burning in his heart.
"
Allahu Ackbah!"
Hadi's 'Mech, and the others, broke out into a run.
(For thematic reasons, not direct parallel)
One of the most dangerous things a successful attack can face is a counter-charge. Even if their numbers are greater, even if victory is at hand, it could still fail against a counter-charge of the right size, the right energy, and the right timing. The attackers' instincts to evade the charge overpowers them and their impetus breaks. They lose momentum, and with that loss, everything falls apart and their formation must regroup.
Such was what the Marians now faced. While they were no strangers to facing charges, the moment was just right for their momentum to fade. Under the artillery fire, under the barrage of Hadi's impromptu force as it rushed eagerly to meet them, their tide ebbed. With their losses mounting, the Marians ceased the attack for now. Their experience kept them from breaking and their commanders went about the work of reforming their ranks for another push, all while long range fire whittled away at the last stand defenders of the Dar-es-Salaam Cavalry, targeting by preference the surviving artillery.
As the Free March artillery died, vehicle by vehicle, the Marian offensive resumed. They still had the numbers, they still had the position, and there would be no relief coming to aid the LZ. The victory was theirs for the taking. They pressed on, less a sharp thrust and more an unstoppable juggernaut of numbers.
Yet their enemies did not waver either. The Marians took losses for every meter, and the ferocity and skill of the resistance impelled them to the methodical advance that pressed the new perimeter of the LZ backward, bit by bit, while detached infantry and armor dealt with pockets of resistance cut off on the rest. Success was inevitable.
And yet, their fullest success eluded them, as was plain to see when, one by one, the DropShips lifted off from the LZs, unharmed and fully laden with the Bolanese refugees.
Semyenov watched the DropShips take off and felt as if a weight came off his shoulders. They'd done it. He'd succeeded in his mission, his duty, and all that was left was to go down fighting rather than risk his soul with suicide.
He ran over to one of his surviving guns and jumped onto the vehicle. "Forward!" he demanded. Knowing what was coming, the driver yet obeyed, and the vehicle started lumbering ever closer to the front, its gun thundering whenever it could fire without risking the dwindling number of their allies. Had he not been about to die, even Semyenov's ear plugs would have failed to save him from permanent hearing loss.
Whatever his intentions to die, Semyenov was not immune to the fear of death. More acutely, he feared the grief and pain of his family back in Dimitrovgrad.
I'm sorry my children, my dear Maria. I am not coming home after all. He breathed a silent prayer to the saints of the Church to tend to his family and that his sons grew up to be wise and strong.
Semyenov used his binoculars to observe the effect of their fire. A shell hit home, an explosive round that toppled three Marian 'Mechs and devastated a tank. A
Centurion stood back to its feet and leveled its autocannon at them. Semyenov kept his jaw clenched and readied himself for the shot. Whether they missed or not, he was ready.
They didn't miss.
Hadi overheard the calls on the tac-comm, confirmation that Colonel Semyenov was dead.
He was a Christian, but yet a good man.
Allah give his soul the rest he deserves. "Artillery, maintain fire," was his only order in response.
They did, and his 'Mechs and infantry did. They maneuvered, and they fought, and they inevitably died under the sheer volume of fire, but none surrendered. Not a one.
The weight of metal against Hadi soon duplicated. An
Orion, a
Grasshopper, and a
Victor all targeted him. He kept his 'Mech moving, dodging the incoming fire as best as he was able while returning it with his weapons, ignoring the heat buildup until his 'Mech felt as hot as the Empty Quarter itself. With an eye on the heat he fired his last autocannon burst, which chewed armor from the
Grasshopper's leg as it took flight. Missiles from the
Orion pummelled him, blasting armor away from his left arm until one blew apart the shoulder actuator, rendering the limb a limp appendage.
He ignored that. The
Grasshopper pilot was his concern, as he brought all seventy tons of his machine down in an attempted "death from above" jump. The pilot was good, he had the landing perfectly.
Hadi was yet better.
He moved at the last moment, causing the
Grasshopper to miss, if only just. He kicked at the 'Mech while it was still off-balance and discharged his sole usable PPC, point blank, into the knee actuator of the machine. With the previous damage from his autocannon, the armor gave at that point and his laser sliced cleanly through the armor, severing the limb at the knee. The machine tumbled and fell over onto its back. Hadi brought his 'Mech's foot up to smash in the cockpit.
The
Victor's autocannon roared, spraying heavy shells into his side and right arm that tore open a wound in both. More importantly, the impacts threw him off balance and his foot struck the ground beside the
Grasshopper's head, not on it. Hadi glanced back at the foe spared by his ally's timely aid.
Just in time to see the torso-mounted large laser fire. Bright blue light overtook his vision until nothing remained.
AFMS Liberator
Departing Bolan Orbit
Marian Hegemony
Admiral Andros found the Bolanese royal family on the rear observation deck. Beyond the brilliant flare of the
Liberator's fusion engines, their homeworld was a gradually shrinking orb, its large and mountainous continents slowly receding from sight. Grand Princess Gita's hands held her younger sons' hands tightly. Rama was weeping despite himself, and his eldest sibling, the Princess Amita, had her fists clenched and looked taunt as a wire. "Your Highnesses, your quarters are arranged," Andros said. "And we've made the arrangements, one of our DropShips will be ferrying you and our worst wounded to Arcadia by way of a partial command circuit. You may have to wait a few days at Kitzingen, depending on the scheduling, but you should be on Arcadia by the end of the month." She swallowed and added. "My condolences, by the way, for the loss of your world. I wish we had the means to do more."
Gita slowly turned from the vision of her lost world to face Andros. "Thank you, Admiral, for your arrangements and your kind words. They do not fill the hole in my heart, but I appreciate the sentiment."
There was silence, and Andros wondered how much of that was genuine and how much was diplomacy.
They have to resent us for not coming sooner. I know I would.
"I want to resent you," Gita said. "I want to be angry that your aid was 'too little, too late'. But you did not have to come. You could have kept your army safe and ready to defend yourselves and left us to our fate. But you came anyway, risking the wrath of
Caesar O'Reilly, and rescued us all. Your people bled and died to save so many of our thousands from their chains, even one of your princes lies maimed in the name of our liberation." She drew in a breath and glanced back to the window. "The Umayrs lost our patrimony, but we will at least keep our dignity and honor instead of being trophy slaves for O'Reilly. And we will not forget the blood your people shed on our behalf."
"Hopefully one day we'll be strong enough to come back."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps karma demands we remain in exile for a time, to teach us humility and wisdom that we forgot. Either way, I will leave that future to the gods."
Andros nodded. Before she could say more the ship intercom squawked. "
All hands, set Condition YANKEE. Enemy ships on intercept course. I repeat, set Condition YANKEE…"
"It looks like the Marians are going to harry us on the way out," she said to them. "I'll make sure crew sees you to safety if an action begins." With that she departed.
AFMS Galatine, Zenith Jump Point
Bolan System
Marian Hegemony
22 March 3034
The timer for their jump out of Bolan was down to a few minutes, and chance had Thomas with Angelina and his Lance Lieutenant, Dani Verdes. The flight out from Bolan hadn't been a comfortable one, with the Marians' "pocket" WarShips, their non-jump capable corvettes, repeatedly firing rounds toward the evading fleet. No hits were recorded, and every time they were challenged the ships broke off, but as they kept coming back it made for a tense week with repeated calls to alert status and restrictions to travel around the ship.
But that was all over. They'd rendezvoused with their JumpShips out at the Zenith point and the jump to Gypsum was imminent. Thomas allowed himself a breath and glanced at his cousin. "So, your final mission in the Guards is a success. I'm sure your new comrades in the Cuirassiers will benefit."
She smiled and shook her head. "It'll be the Strikers now. Command made sure to send me updated orders just before we cut the links from the HPG here. They're calling off the mustering of the Strikers due to the need to make good our losses. I'm heading for McAffe now."
"Oh. The Strikers, then? They're bringing back Granddad William's old raider battalions?"
"Not a battalion anymore, a full regiment, the 8th Strikers. Chappy Sinclair is mustering them on McAffe, I'll be getting a company in their heavy battalion. I'm not looking forward to the combat drop training, I've always thought the Rangers mad for doing that."
"They're insane," Dani said, joining in. "But they did good work in opening the way for us."
"They did, and I'm sure the Strikers will too. I just prefer to keep solid ground under my 'Mech." Angelina nodded to her. "How are you and the girlfriend, by the way? You both came out alright?"
Dani blushed a little. With all the fighting she'd forgotten the entire Guards knew about them. "She never got hit. And I wasn't injured in the fighting, although my
Marauder's still getting some of the combat damage dealt with."
"You came out well. Especially in that early fighting, holding the road like that. Your whole company was the pride of the regiment."
A squawk came over the PA. "
All hands, brace for jump."
"Well, there we go," Angelina said. "We're heading home."
Dani asked, "Think the Marians will follow?"
"They'll regret it if they do," Angelina replied, a grin on her face.
A moment later they jumped. The Bolan Rescue Operation was truly over.