Twin Spire
Styx
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
28 December 3055
Rohan pulled the vehicle to a stop in the middle of an intersection. They had driven into the upper part of the outskirts, the portion of town above the chasm that overlooked the rest of the once proud mining city of Twin Spire. Gwen got out first and walked about half a block over to the edge of the cliff that overlooked the town.
“Interesting layout.” Muttered Logan. “Only a handful of access roads leading from up here to down there.”
“Strategic control. Any land-based force attacking this forward base from above would have to traverse through a narrow likely-heavily-fortified corridor.” Retorted Rohan.
“Yes, but an attack force could simply bombard from above. The high ground almost always has the edge in tactical positioning.” Added Gwen. “But the narrow access does buy the rebels time to escape. Like most guerilla forces, they’re not looking for a stand up fight.”
Gwen brought her binoculars up to her eyes and scanned the town below. It appeared for all intents to be just what the official reports said, a ghost town long abandoned by any inhabitants. “If they’re here, they’re well hidden.”
“Narataki’s reports are not likely to be inaccurate.” Said Logan.
“Yeah, but if the local ISF knew about this place, the rebels might have moved on.”
“Possible.” Said Gwen, “but give my former agency a bit of credit. It’s unlikely these rebels are aware of all that the ISF has learned of them. Still, no sign of habitation. No BattleMechs certainly and those would be hard to hide in any town where no building is taller than two stories. Wait a minute…” Gwen spotted something out of the corner of her eye, a flash of light.
“EVERYONE DOWN NOW!!” she screamed, dashing for cover. A twin volley of missiles hurled at their position from below, striking their unoccupied vehicle and blowing the unarmored civilian vehicle to bits. The blast tossed Gwen off her feet and slammed her into a masonry wall and darkness took her.
---
Gwen wasn’t sure how long she’d been out. As she came around, she became aware of several things in turn. One, there was sand in her mouth from where she was lying face down. Two, when she opened her eyes, the world was spinning. Three, her body felt like it had been pummeled by a thousand fists. And lastly, her ears were ringing but she could distinctly hear the rat-a-tat of a machine gun firing, likely the only sound still loud enough to pierce the ringing.
Gwen knew she was a sitting duck where she lay crumpled on the ground. In spite of the pain, she pushed off and came to her feet. She fought back against the dizziness and tried to get her bearings. Their car was still ablaze just a few meters away. The machine gun fire was coming from above and she looked up and over to see three men manning a gun emplacement on the balcony of a nearby building. She now figured it had been less than a minute since the missile volley had struck.
She also knew that machine gun was firing at something, likely her two companions. She made a mad dash for the door of the building where the emplacement was located, praying to whatever deity that the emplacement’s observer didn’t spot her sprinting across the open street.
As she entered the door, she did not check her pace but ran immediately for the stairs, drawing her jitte as she did so. The loud roar of the machine gun deafened the rebels from her approach as she dashed up the stairs into the room they occupied. All three were focused on the two Dark Rangers, wherever they were hiding.
Without a word, Gwen moved up behind the observer and slid the jitte through his back of his neck at the base of his skull. As his corpse pitched forward, the other two immediately jumped up, now aware of the threat from behind. Gwen snatched her vibroblade from her belt, flipped it on, jammed it through the chest of the one, while drawing her blaster with her other hand and firing a bolt point blank into the other. Both men crumpled to the floor.
But the sound of machine gun fire did not stop. Another emplacement! Gwen moved past the carnage to look out across the street and sure enough, there was similar emplacement further down the block, firing down on a masonry wall. Gwen could see Logan and Rohan both under cover, trying to avoid the whizzing bullets as they laced past them.
Gwen kicked aside the dead gunner and took his place, pulled back on the machine gun’s bolt and let it rip into the other emplacement’s position. Not expecting an attack from that direction and having no cover against that, the three machine gunners were chopped to pieces in a matter of seconds.
The battle now over, the dizziness and pain came over Gwen with a vengeance and she pitched over her weapon as her head spun. She lay there for several minutes before Logan and Rohan reached her.
“Damn, you’re in bad shape.” She could hear one of them saying. “Losing blood fast.”
Gwen felt hands working at her body, but was too weak and disoriented to know exactly what was going on. “We’ve got to move her. Those rebels are going to come up here looking for us, especially if their machine gun squad doesn’t report back.” That was Logan’s voice.
“Get the uniforms.” Said Rohan. “We might need them.”
---
Gwen came back to herself what appeared to be hours later. The sun had gone down and only moonlight filtered through the windows of the building they were in.
“Wha…where…” she stuttered.
“You’re awake.” Said Rohan. “You had us worried.”
“Keep it down, you two. We don’t know where the patrols are.” Hissed Logan.
“What…what happened?” whispered Gwen.
“You took some shrapnel from that missile attack.” Whispered Rohan. “Cut you up pretty good. You were bleeding pretty bad. Only pure adrenaline allowed you to take out those machine gunners. Once it wore off…” He smiled as Gwen tried to sit up. “Careful, you’re still pretty weak.”
“Thanks for the patch job, Karl.”
Rohan chuckled. “First time you’ve called me by my first name. Not even Logan does that.”
“I owe you one. Now where are we?”
“Cliffside house, about halfway down one of the access roads.” Answered Logan. “We had to scoot since the rebels sent patrols to make sure we were dead. No doubt they know better by now thanks to their dead machine gun squad.”
“Assets?”
“Not much. The car was blown to bits, along with all our gear. All we have are a few clips of ammo and those only for our pistols. Your hand cannon is the most powerful weapon we have.”
Gwen drew out her blaster to check its charge and gas chamber. Both nearly full, since she’d only fired it that one time. Her vibroblade and jitte were both back on her belt.
“We did manage to scavenge uniforms from the first three you killed. A couple of them are a bit bloody, but they still might be useful.” Said Logan.
Gwen nodded, as a plan began to form in her mind. “Alright, those uniforms have given me an idea. Put them on. We’re going to give these rebels a visit.”
---
By dawn, the trio had made their way down to the lower portion of the city. They’d had only one close call where a patrol vehicle flashed them with a spotlight. Thankfully, upon seeing their uniforms, the patrol moved on without incident.
“We can only hope we get lucky like that again.” Muttered Rohan as they came into the city square.
“Act casual,” Said Gwen with a smirk, “and we will.”
The city square was heavily populated now that daylight had arrived. Most bore the uniforms of the rebellion, which were a modified from of the typical DCMS militia uniform, stained black on the jacket and tunic. No one paid them any heed as they moved about, as they were wearing the same uniform.
“Lots of vehicles. Some military issue. A lot of converted civilian craft. Too many here for this to just be a forward base.” Whispered Logan.
“But no BattleMechs and no dropships. The Highlander renegades must be elsewhere.”
“This whole thing starts to stink of a trap. Like how did they know we were coming?”
“Not everything adds up here, but you can bet one thing. This many of them gathered together implies an operation of some sort. These troops are moving out and soon.” Gwen glanced about to find Rohan. “And I intend for us to go with them.”
She moved towards a Galleon light tank, with two rebels loitering about outside it. In rapid-fire Japanese, she barked orders at them, bringing both of them quickly to their feet in surprise. Given their military discipline, Logan guessed they were former militia or perhaps retired DCMS. But that discipline was about to be turned against them.
Gwen moved into their face, still tearing them a new one with every Japanese curse she could remember. Not wavering from their pose of attention, they never noticed her draw her vibroblade and jitte and pitch them both into their chests.
Gwen motioned for Logan to hide the bodies quickly and then with a shake of her head signaled Rohan to join them.
“Remind me never to piss you off.” Said Logan as he dragged one of the corpses behind a piece of broken masonry wall.
“And here I was thinking you thought dangerous was sexy.” Retorted Gwen with a grin.
“In the past 24 hours, I watched you murder 5 people in cold blood.”
“I’d hardly call the trio with the machine gun a cold blooded murder. But, Logan, let’s face it. I was a DEST assassin. I kill people for a living, and I am very good at my job.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Said Logan, dragging the other body out of sight. “I think I’m starting to understand your hope for a normal life a bit better.”
“I’ve been witness to and a participant in brutality that would even make your cynical heart quake.” Said Gwen, getting up in his face. “I’m a monster, Logan. But like so many monsters in folklore, I long to be human again. That is the nature of the person who fights at your side.”
“I’ve seen you on an operation before and you weren’t like this.” Logan voice hinted at genuine concern, maybe even fear.
“A monster is not afforded many friends,” she said, climbing into the Galleon “And so long as the son of one my dearest is threatened, then this is the side of me you will see.”
---
The trio did not have to wait long. Gwen’s assessment had been correct. The group was gathering for something, and whatever it was had been scheduled to commence soon. Barely an hour after they had hidden themselves within the Galleon, the rebel force began to move out.
“And now we follow.” Said Gwen, firing up the Galleon’s gasoline engine. “Unless I miss my guess, they’ll take us right to the renegade Highlanders.”
“Not exactly how I expected this little recon mission to play out.” Grumbled Logan. “How did they know we were coming?”
“There’s any number of possibilities.” Said Rohan. “One, our vehicle could have easily been spotted by their own pickets. It’s not like we could mask our approach across klicks and klicks of open plains. Two, Narataki sold us out. Maybe he’s gone a bit native.”
“Unlikely.” Said Gwen. “His information was thorough. If he was on their side, it seems unlikely that he would be as forthcoming. No, there’s a third possibility, one I think likely.”
“What’s that?”
“That LIC team that’s also after O’Malley. They could have infiltrated the rebels and tipped them off to our coming.”
“How would they know? How would they know we were coming or where this base was?”
“Narataki. It did take him a while to get us the information.”
“There’s at least two of them.” Deduced Logan.
“How so?”
“One to keep an eye out for us. A second to go running to the rebel commander ‘Sir, sir, bad guys coming.’ Look at all this hardware and they had it hidden from us completely when we arrived. That implies someone was watching the road far enough out to give them time to hide everything. No way such an observer could relay that information back alone.”
“And the technology of radio communication doesn’t function here for what reason?” said Rohan sardonically.
“If your normal pickets are one klick out and this guy is ten, how do you explain that without raising suspicion?”
“Impressive, Logan. All that cloak-and-dagger stuff on Fomalhaut taught you a thing or two. He’s right. There would have to be some sort of go-between to keep the LIC infiltration from being detected.”
“If there are LIC agents within the rebellion like us, they’re also looking for O’Malley.” Said Rohan.
“Which means we have to work fast when we reach our destination.”
Location Unknown
Styx
Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine
29 December 3055
The rebel convoy drove on well past dusk, finally reaching its rendezvous point with the Highlander mercenaries. Gwen and the two Rangers, hidden within the convoy in their stolen Galleon, nodded quietly to one another as they drove past a pair of Centurion medium Battlemechs on the perimeter.
“Highlander colors.” Commented Logan. “I’ve shot enough laser and ammo at that green to last a lifetime.”
“With a bit of luck, we can be in and out of here without firing a shot.” Said Gwen.
“You really think they’d bring a toddler into this camp?” Said Rohan. “The dropships are not here.”
“Yeah, but people here know where they are.” Gwen brought the Galleon to a stop. “And where they are is where Daniel is.” She turned off the engine and opened the door to get out. “You two stay here. I’m going to go find O’Malley.”
“Gwen, be careful.” Said Rohan.
Gwen nodded, dropped herself out the side of the vehicle, and disappeared into the darkness.
Logan chuckled. “I see I’m not the only one taken by our liaison’s charms.”
“You look at her and see only tits and ass. There’s a lot more to her than that.”
“You always were a sucker for lost souls.” Replied Logan, crawling to the door.
“She said to stay here.”
“If she finds out where the boy is hidden, we’re going to have to high tail it out of here. A Galleon only clocks in at about 100 kph on even ground. There are two Locusts parked about 100 meters to our left.” Logan pointed out the window at the two light Highlander Battlemechs a short distance away. “You really think we can outrun those? We need a better vehicle and I’m off to find one. Sit tight. This won’t take long.”
---
Gwen made her way carefully through the camp. She might have gotten away with a more casual approach, but this time she was not about to take chances. Stealth would be her tactic tonight.
The tents of the rebel camp were fairly tightly clustered, giving her numerous hiding places under the twilight sky. Slowly, she made her way across the camp towards a cluster of Highlander battlemechs. Parked at the feet of those mechs were several tents, separated from the rest of the camp. Gwen was wagering that it was within them that she would find what she was looking for.
As she came to the edge of the bulk of the tent city, she paused to take stock of the Highlander machines present. She counted well over twenty machines, at least two full companies. That was a lot of firepower, far more than the paltry Styx militia could handle. But what struck her as odd was the absence of Baron O’Malley’s own Victor.
“He’s bound to be here.” Thought Gwen silently to herself. “This is too big a gathering of these rebels for the key leader of the mercenaries they’ve hired to be absent. A Victor is no scout mech, so it’s doubtful he’s on patrol.” She frowned. The absence of the Victor troubled her. If he was somehow coordinating the coming battle from the dropships, a not unheard of strategy for a commander of his stature, finding evidence of their location might be even harder that she had hoped.
Deciding to proceed anyway, Gwen stood up and casually walked the open distance between the tent city and the Highlander camp, hoping no one would think her out of the ordinary. When no one approached her or called out, she quickened her pace, but no so much to arouse attention, and darted behind the first tent she found.
Gwen paused silently to listen for evidence of occupancy. Hearing no voices, no snoring, nor any other indication that anyone was inside, she crouched down and lifted up the heavy canvas to look inside. The tent was illuminated by a portable lamp, allowing her to see that it was furnished with several cots and footlockers.
She lowered the canvas and decided to move on to the next tent. She did this in turn with three others, either moving on when she heard sounds within or checking under the canvas when she did not. In each case, she found things much the same, cots and footlockers for about eight people in each one.
“Quarters for mechwarriors and their techs.” She surmised. “The commander would have a tent to himself.”
The fourth tent was silent, and as she had with the others, she looked under the canvas within. Here she found a different sight. A single cot, a few chairs, and a table littered with various maps and other documents. Gwen smiled. “Jackpot.”
She slid her lithe form under the canvas and began to look around. The maps on the table were of the local terrain, noting the quickest and least patrolled routes to the capital city. She looked at them with greater intensity, hoping to discern the location of the Highlander dropships from the unfamiliar terrain in front of her. The rebel camp was clearly marked, as was the capital city and the city of Twin Spire where their adventure had begun over twenty four hours earlier.
Suddenly, the door to the tent flew open and a large blond haired man entered. Gwen pulled back into a defensive stance as the man focused on her. It was clear he had not expected to find her or anyone else within.
With a flick of his wrist, a pair of short knife-like blades popped out of the back of his forearm: some manner of cybernetic implant weapon. Gwen grabbed for her vibroblade as her enemy charged. Of only one thing she was certain: her opponent was no Highlander.
The huge man slashed at her with his forearm blades, but Gwen was quick and rolled aside as he struck. She came back to her feet, determined to lash out, but her opponent also proved very fast. He was on her in a flash and struck again. Gwen parried with her dagger and then slashed across his belly with a lightning attack. Despite the cutting power of the vibroblade, it felt as if she’d struck dense metal instead of soft flesh.
His fist came down on her head with a hammer blow. He struck with such force that the room spun around a few times. Gwen staggered back and slumped to the floor. Her attacker paused, retracting his forearm blades as he assessed her from a short distance away.
“So, the Star Swords have tracked O’Malley to this place as well.” Said the man with a thick German accent. “Seems our little ruse almost worked. Too bad these rebels are not quite as thorough as we’d hoped.” He smiled, baring a set of vampire-like fangs. “Well, their loss is my gain.”
“Who...who are you?” asked Gwen, clearly still dazed and short of breath.
“I am Solomon.” Said the man. “And I’m the last thing you get to see alive.” He closed in for the kill.
Unexpectedly, Gwen’s foot lashed out and slammed hard into Solomon’s crotch. The big man howled in unexpected agony. Gwen came quickly to her feet. “I figured they didn’t cyber that part.” She spun and landed a solid roundhouse kick to the side of his head, sending him sprawling. He struck the table, splitting it in two, and came to rest against the central support pole of the tent.
Outside, they could both hear commotion from the guards. Solomon’s howl of pain had alerted them. Solomon stood up, his eyes burning with hate. “We’ll finish this some other time, Star Sword.” He grabbed the pole and gave it a hard yank, bringing the tent down around them.
Gwen dove for the edge, hoping to not get tangled in the canvas. She struck the wall of the tent just as the ceiling came down to envelop her. She heard the chatter of the guards grow more intense as they watched the tent collapse. With a quick slash of her vibroblade, she cut her way free from the canvas and tumbled out into the darkness.
She came to her feet, aware that the guards could probably see her out in the open. At that very moment, the ground shook from a deafening explosion, knocking her and the guards off their feet. One of the Highlander BattleMechs exploded in a blinding flash of light, showering the Highlander camp with fiery debris.
---
Elsewhere, Logan made his way casually over to another part of the makeshift parking lot where the rebels were stashing their vehicles. He took stock of their equipment as he did so. He noted Scorpions, Vendettes, a few custom machines that looked like modified civilian vehicles. Nothing high tech. Not a fusion engine in the lot of them. Few lasers as armaments, no PPCs, and certainly nothing Star League level, like a gauss rifle.
“Without the Highlanders, even a light mech company could overpower these rebels. They got nothing with any staying power.” He observed to himself. With that, he made his way over to a small handful of helicopters parked at the edge of the lot.
A couple of rebels, the chopper pilots he presumed, were sharing a smoke near the machines. Logan casually walked over to them.
“Cold night.” He muttered in accented Japanese. It was obvious it was not his native language, but he hoped that would not matter.
One of the pilots grunted in the affirmative. “Can’t sleep?” asked the other of Logan, offering him a cigarette.
Logan nodded as he accepted the gift.
“Us neither.” Continued the pilot. “I’m always like this before a battle.”
“You know,” said his companion. “They say even veteran troops have moments like this. Jitters before the battle.”
“So I’ve heard.” Said Logan, playing along. “These ships yours?”
“Yeah, and you?”
“Tanker.” He pointed behind him, back towards a lance of Scorpions barely visible in the twilight.
“Been at it long? You don’t sound like you’re a native to these parts.”
“Not really. Grew up on Rasalhague, born before the split. Family stayed with the Dragon and our loyalty got repaid with my assignment here.” That was not entirely a fib. Logan was indeed a Rasalhague native, but the rest was a casual lie.
“That sounds familiar.” Grumbled the one pilot. “Most of us have gotten the shaft from good old Lord Kurita one way or the other. Now he makes alliances with the FederRats and whores out his daughter to Prince Vicky.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why we’re all here. Restore honor to the Kurita family by putting a real Kurita on the throne. It starts here, on Styx.” Said the other.
Logan was curious as to who they might consider a “real” Kurita when the ground shook and the sky turned bright as day.
“What the hell?” asked the one pilot, shoving past Logan to get a better look as a Highlander Archer exploded in a huge fireball.
Logan saw his chance, quick drawing his Mydron machine pistol and slamming the weapon into the back of the neck of the pilot next to him. The man slumped to the ground as his partner exclaimed in alarm. Logan brought the gun around and opened fire. The burst tore into the second pilot’s chest and face and he collapsed into the dust.
“Damn, Gwen, what the hell did you do?” muttered Logan, holstering his pistol and climbing into the cockpit of the nearest chopper, a light Ferret scout helicopter. He flipped a few switched and smiled as he heard the engine turn over.
---
“What the hell is going on?” said Rohan as Gwen ran out of the tent city back over to the Striker. Behind her was complete chaos as the rebels moved to contain the fires started by the exploding machine.
“We’re not alone. My guess is that Anderson’s team is here also. I ran into one of them back there. He and I had a bit of a tussle, and he must have detonated that mech as a distraction to cover his escape.” She paused and looked around. “Where’s Logan?”
“He went looking for a new ride.”
“Damn. Once they get that under control, they’re going to sweep this camp and this is quickly going to be someplace best not to be.”
A spotlight flashed and blinded the two of them. Gwen brought her hand up to ward off the bright light, noticing the beam originated with a helicopter over their heads.
“Hey, guys!” called out a voice. Logan!
“Dammit, turn that thing off.” Snarled Gwen as best she could over the chop of the helicopter’s rotors. “You’re telling the whole camp where we are.”
“We are so out of here. Hurry, climb aboard.” Logan moved the chopper closer to the Striker as Rohan climbed onto the roof of the tank. He grabbed the edge of the Ferret’s cargo bay and pulled himself inside. Gwen followed suit.
“Get us out of here.” Snapped Gwen. “I do hope you know how to fly one of these things.”
“I’m no expert, but I’ll manage.” Replied Logan. He pulled on the control sticks and the chopper climbed away from the camp.
---
“Report!” barked Baron Ian O’Malley, as he climbed down from his Victor battlemech.
“Sabotage, sir.” Said his aide-de-camp, Captain John Christopher. “Someone rigged charges to Sergeant Chisolm’s Archer. Detonated her ammunition stores remotely.”
“We are being hunted.” Said O’Malley flatly.
Christopher nodded. “Mostly likely. This was a warning.”
“John, tell the rebel commanders we need to accelerate the timetable. I want this force on the move in 60 minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
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