The memory of the message blazed like white, hot coals in Ashton Crawfyre's
mind. He remembered that fateful day, when the bile of dread rose up in
his throat, forcing him to stand stock still in the operations center of
the Dropship Olympus. The faces of the surrounding Wolf's Dragoons matched
the stark white color of the walls.
Colonel Jaime Wolf gave no sign of emotion, no sign of anger or doubt. He
crumpled up the newly received printout, turned quickly on heel, and barked
out an order.
"Helmsman. Back to New Delos. Coordinate the closest pirate point and
engage the Lithium Fusion Battery."
The surrounding personnel looked at each other, realizing that whatever
the message contained must have been important enough for the commanding
officer of the Wolf's Dragoons to use the risky double jump procedure. No
man or woman made a move toward the wadded sheet resting on the floor, fearing
that whatever it might contain would not be suitable to his or her eyes.
Finally, a flame-haired woman with the telltale hourglass insignia on her
jumpsuit, marched up to the paper and unfurled it hastily. Her face darkened
from its natural pale shade to a bright red and then a deep purple. She
angrily approached Wolf. Ashton couldn't hear what they were saying, but
the animated expression on Natasha Kerensky's face contrasted with Wolf's
as June does to December. The diatribe ended by Natasha storming off the
bridge, throwing down the paper in disgust. Ashton picked his way gently
over to the once again fallen paper, fearing the worst. The words stabbed
like a dagger:
TO: Colonel Jaime
Wolf, Commander, Wolf's Dragoons
FROM: Duke Anton Marik, Captain-General of the Free Worlds League
This is to inform you that Major Joshua Wolf and 27 of your household
staff have been arrested. They will be held until such time as you comply
with my orders and place your units at the disposal of my line officers.
Failure to obey these orders will result in the execution of all prisoners
within 14 standard days of this transmission.
*****
A tear rolled down Ashton's face to totter on the underside of his chin.
At the time, he was furious, as furious as the Black Widow herself. How
dare Anton Marik? How dare he? But the fury was quickly replaced by overwhelming
grief.
Upon arrival in the New Delos system, it was quickly discovered that Anton
Marik was as good as his word. All 27 Dragoons held prisoner had been
executed-shot like the traitors they were branded. These were Ashton's
family, people he had known and trusted on. These were his close comrades
and their loss grieved him immeasurably. All these thoughts cascaded through
his mind, and they all occurred in a split second, for that was all he
had before the bay doors of the dropship opened, and he stepped out into
the sky below.
His 30 ton FLC-4N
Falcon was not a big 'mech by any means, but it was well rounded and he
knew it well. Armed with a medium laser, two smaller lasers and a pair
of Machine Guns, it was the perfect anti-infantry 'mech and it was unsurpassed
in scouting capabilities. With a pair of PRS-60 jump jets, he was mobile,
an idea trait for any 'mech with the limited armor the Falcon had. Attached
to the Black Widow Company as he was and in a mission of this nature,
these attributes would come in well.
The wind howled and shouted outside his cockpit window, as his 'mech passed
the 500-meter point on the altimeter. Feathering his jump jets ever so
lightly, Ashton braced himself for his collision with the hard earth below.
Any time thirty tons of complex machinery meets a hard surface, the result
is usually not favorable, but with skill and practice honed from years
of training, Ashton braced his knees and made the landing with only a
slight hop, skip, and bounce.
It only took another few minutes for Widow Company to gather themselves
up and begin marching on Anton Marik's private residence. The goal was
the destruction of the rebellion headquarters, but everyone knew that
this mission was personal. Natasha had requested the assignment most adamantly,
and Wolf agreed, knowing that to forbid it would be futile. It was well
known that Joshua and Natasha had been close, and it was also well known
that once the Black Widow had her mind set, it usually took a regiment
of Atlas's to get her to consider changing it.
The mission called for a rear attack of the palace, an attack that was
supposed to be impenetrable by recent events. The whole forest guarding
the back entrance had been burning incessantly for days, the result of
a napalm blaze that had been purposely started to prevent just such an
attack. Anton Marik had seriously underestimated Natasha Kerensky and
the Wolf's Dragoons if he thought a forest full of fire would prevent
her from reaping the vengeance she now craved with an obsessive light.
The Dragoons had made a low altitude transfer, using the Dropship Bloodfang
to escort Widow Company from one side of New Delos to the other. Having
secured the major cities throughout the world, the Wolf's Dragoons drove
back the Ducal Guards with unabated fury, letting their grief transform
them to merciless avatars of war.
Ashton grimaced with the reflection of one unfortunate Mechwarrior from
the guards. The sun was setting and layered the company in shadows, shining
blood red highlights off the arms and legs of a dozen 'mechs. Widow company
trapped an unfortunate Marik lance, cut off from retreat, and had them
pinned against elements from Alpha regiment. Realizing their cause was
hopeless, one of the Marik pilots ejected, his ejection chair sailing
far overhead, sailing toward the safety of a nearby forest. Or so he thought.
Captain Kerensky methodically raised one of the particle projection cannons
on her Warhammer. Aimed with deliberateness only she could muster, she
sent a cerulean bolt of condensed energy from her PPC and turned the Marik
pilot into vapors and ash. The remnants of the chair and ejection mechanism
toppled toward the earth, blinding Ashton as it crossed paths with the
setting sun.
*****
Despite Anton Marik's cavalier attitude toward his self-induced inferno,
he was not foolish enough to leave his rear totally unguarded. A company
of 'mechs flashed to life on Ashton's radar. The company had broke into
three lances and two of them moved to flank, hoping to create a double
envelopment.
"Widow Beta and Delta, break to setting 390 degrees and smash them,"
Kerensky intoned over the company wide channel. "Alpha, follow me."
Ashton's scout lance closed with fire support lance Delta and they proceeded
to move at full speed toward the opposing flanking rebel lance on the
left. 'Mechs crashed through the outlying forest, brushing aside trees
like strands of wheat in a field. The trees blocked the views of the opposing
forces, but the explosion of a nearby pine alerted lance Beta and Delta
to the oncoming Guards.
Ashton quickly broke right, hoping to use his speed and divert the attention
of a Guard Panther. A PPC flashed over his head, decapitating the head
of another pine, and Ashton returned fire with a pair of medium lasers,
one scoring a hit on the Panther's left arm, and another below on the
left leg. It only took a moment for the Panther to recover before delivering
another blast of his PPC, this one scoring a ragged furrow along Ashton's
chest. The blast sent him stumbling and careening off a young sapling
like a pinball.
The gyro protested but quickly relinquished its death grip as Ashton righted
the 'Mech and sent it closer toward the enemy Panther. He didn't dare
ignite his jump jets with the dense forest canopy above, so he resigned
himself to quick furtive movements between the trees. He tried to close
with the Panther, attempting to get a better target lock, but the amount
of trees and the ever closing napalm fire made both a visual and infrared
signal increasingly difficult to maintain.
He dodged left around a fallen log, not wanting to chance tripping, but
another PPC found him on the left shoulder, spinning him wildly and causing
Ashton to topple onto his left flank. He skidded on the ground for a few
meters, armor plating howling under the impact and giving way under the
pressure. The hard fall smashed his head against the left side of the
cockpit, his heading ringing inside his neurohelmet as a clapper does
in a bell. Starts danced lazily above his vision, and he felt the warm
trickle of blood make its journey from his nose toward his chin.
Blackness might have overwhelmed him had the steady cadence of the Panther's
feet not drummed into him the urgency of his situation. Struggling with
the control sticks, he planted the right arm mounted laser into the ground,
working to leverage himself to a kneeling position. The right shoulder
actuator groaned under the weight, but it held. Ashton raised one knee
under his 'mech when another PPC exploded the base of yet another neighboring
tree. Disappearing in a flash of azure light, the bottom half of the trunk
ceased to exist, but the remainder of the tree proceeded to crash down
toward Ashton's rising position. The detritus glanced off the Falcon's
right leg, doing no damage but sending Ashton earthward yet again.
Cursing under his breath, he tried once again to work himself up, but
the looming form of the Ducal Guard Panther overshadowed his position.
Ever so slowly, the Guard mechwarrior raised his PPC, pointing it directly
at the cockpit of the Falcon. It didn't take a soothsayer for Ashton Crawyfyre
to know his time was at an end. He closed his eyes and held his breath.
The PPC fired.
Nothing happened.
Ashton opened one eye and then another, looking in wonderment as the Panther
looming above him. The PPC was still pointed at his cockpit, but there
was one major difference. It had no head.
Where its head used to be was just empty space-empty space above a charred
and twisted neck region. Crawfyre gasped, blinked once, and then watched
the Panther totter backwards, falling like some headless God going to
eternal rest. He couldn't talk. He couldn't even breathe. His reverie
lasted about 10 seconds until he heard the footsteps of another approaching
'mech. Thrashing around in his seat, Ashton tried to prop himself back
up. Fearing the image of another Panther overhead, he struggled, the controls
responding sluggishly to his every command. Just then, the image of a
Warhammer filled his cockpit. On the right hip was a black spider with
the red hourglass markings. He just stared in amazement, as the world
began to beep.
He shook his head and realized it was the communication feed on his control
panel. Opening the circuit he heard Captain Kerensky's voice, muffled
slightly by static.
"You OK kid?" she drawled.
"Yyes, sir," Ashton managed to stammer. "
'Mech is a little
shaken but operable." She laughed.
"Ya, the 'Mech sure looks shaken. Glad to see it's operable, though.
Now, how about you get yourself up so we can pay Anton Marik a little
visit."
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