Dedicated to the last stand of the Wolf Clan 238th "Dread Legion" Assault Cluster on
Tukayyid.
Thunder raged across the night sky, while howling winds crashed against the unforgiving rock of the Porizistu Mountains. Rain slapped at quaking trees, drumming a staccato beat. The usual array of nighttime predators had taken refuge, leaving the mountains almost lifeless - almost.
Other predators hunted this night.
"ComStar units advancing from the valley, Colonel."
"Copy. Range?"
"Twelve-point-seven kilometers, Colonel."
"How stands the Legion?"
"The Legion awaits your command, Colonel."
Star Colonel Drkad of Clan Wolf waited, looking over the tacscreen of his custom Timberwolf. The ComStar units - probably the remnants of the Ninth Army - were advancing up from the plains near the city of Brazo, sliding through a narrow valley before they hit the real mountain trails. They're probably trying to prevent reinforcements from reaching the units at Brazo, Drkad thought. Skupo has already fallen before us, and now it's a last-ditch effort to prevent the loss of Brazo as well. The Wolf Clan had hit ComStar hard, doggedly punishing them again and again, never letting up, and the fruits of their labor were already within their grasp. Skupo had fallen; Brazo was capitulating. ComStar was on the run, steadily losing ground before the relentless Wolf advance.
Drkad did a quick mental calculation. If they advanced to meet the ComStar, they could catch them where the valley rose up to meet the mountain passes. Such a bottleneck would be devastating to the ComStar troops; of course, clearing the wreckage for the relief columns to pass through would be annoying, but that was a minor consideration next to the prospect of wiping out the Ninth Army.
"Form the Legion for maneuvers." Drkad heard his second, Captain Cyrus, issuing orders over the comnet. Around him, the fifty-three Battlemechs of the 238th Assault Cluster, otherwise known as the Dread Legion, dropped their defensive poster, assuming a fighting formation suitable to attack. The Legion had originally had the full compliment of sixty-five Battlemechs, but the skirmishes near the Porizistu foothills had eaten away some of the Legion's strength.
"The Legion stands ready, Colonel."
"The Legion will advance at a walk."
The double arrowhead formation of assault mechs lurched forward, grinding towards the ComStar troops in the valley below. A wave of Elementals flowed in front of the Legion, clearing the path for the heavier Mechs.
"Range now seven-point-five kilometers, Colonel."
"The Legion will advance at a trot."
The ground shook with the advance as the formation increased the power to their drive systems. A deadly hum sounded briefly as energy spikes heralded the activation of weapons systems.
"Range is three-point-one kilometers, Colonel."
"The Legion will charge!"
A single howl rang over comnet, pealing from the throats of the Dread Legion, as the formation broke into a gallop, tearing at the intervening distance. The ComStar mechs could be seen now, struggling to crest the valley before they were caught by the Wolves.
Like the horns of an enraged bull, the twin arrowhead formations enveloped either side of the valley, catching the ComStar units in a deadly enfilade. With the advantage of superior height and battle formation, the Wolf mechs tore into the Ninth Army. The ComStar troops, arrayed in a long traveling file and unable to reach their assailants, broke in confusion, individual warriors each fighting their own personal and ultimately futile war.
Drkad perched his Timberwolf atop a rocky outcropping, ignoring the wild return fire. Calmly, precisely, he chose a target, a huge Atlas trying to lumber its way out of the valley. His targeting reticule glowed crimson, but still he waited, guiding the reticule until it rested over the slow-moving cockpit.
A twitch of his finger, a burst of focused light, and the unknown soldier was dead.
Captain Cyrus guided his Maddog up and over the ridge, his targeting computer immediately screaming with the shrill whine of a
lock-on. Clenching down on the control yoke, the Wolf Captain guided precise bursts of energy into the seething ranks of ComStar mechs and
battlesuits.
"Alpha Assault, there's a squad of jump-Mechs to the south. Move and engage." Cyrus nodded to himself as Alpha Star, Trinary Assault, disengaged from the line of battle and swung around to deal with the fleeing ComStar unit.
Below them, the Ninth Army continued to crumble. Though the mechs were returning fire, pouring it on just as heavily as the Wolves, they could not concentrate their firepower, strung out as they were in the valley.
Drkad watched with satisfaction as ComStar mech after ComStar mech disappeared from his sensors, explosions and tracer fire dancing through the night. The Ninth Army, painted in the ComStar pure white, was easily visible in the darkness; the Wolves, in their dark color schemes, were not so hindered.
"Bravo and Charlie Battle, concentrate your fire on either end of the valley; keep them from escaping. Delta Assault, take Alpha and Charlie Elemental and prepare for DFA maneuvers."
The valley glowed from the fires and explosions scattered over its verdant slopes. Wrecked mechs lay strewn about, broken and dying machines who had once been as gods. Smoke billowed from the valley, churning and swaying in the stormy winds. The light of the promethium fires gave the valley a hellish cast, an image enhanced by the flickering Clan mechs perched on the valley rim, their pulse lasers chattering incessantly. An occasional hail of fire roared back from the valley floor, which only served to draw the attention of the Wolf pilots.
"Alpha Striker, stragglers at two-points north. Engage and destroy."
"Command acknowledged. Engage and destroy."
The onboard computer beeped at him, overwhelming the response of his subordinates. Drkad spared a glance at the dataslat readout hovering over his right shoulder, unconsciously jetting to his right to avoid a PPC blast from the valley.
Units from behind? Must be the relief column for the Brazo units.
"Unidentified column, transmit IFF code."
Silence.
"Unidentified column, transmit IFF code."
Silence.
"Delta Assault, scrap DFA; take the brigade back into the mountains, over-watch pattern. Unknown units, coded Gamma Eight, en route from the highlands. Acknowledge, Delta Assault."
"Delta Assault acknowledges. Alpha and Charlie Elemental in transit."
Drkad returned his attention to the mech who had loosed the PPC blast at him, an ungainly Crab model. A storm of pulse laser fire tore at its starboard flank, wrenching bits of armor and machinery from the mech. Smoke began pouring from its drive system, and the Crab slowly stumbled to a walk, then a crawl, and then a stop. It hung in the air for a moment, its ponderous bulk teetering, then came crashing down, exploding from within.
"Colonel, Gamma Eight registers as the Brazo relief column. Orders?"
"Delta Assault, escort Gamma Eight to Brazo. Use another route to avoid the fighting. Guard the relief column with your honor, Delta Assault."
"Delta Assault acknowledges. For the Clan and the Keshik."
"Clan and Keshik," Drkad intoned. He swiveled to face an old-model Jenner rising from the valley on its jump jets. A twin line of missiles erupted from the pods on his shoulders, arcing in from under the flying mech. The subsequent explosion clogged the jump vents; the Jenner dropped with alarming quickness, joining the other wrecks on the base of the valley.
A crash of lightning lit the other side of the valley, and Drkad's eyes widened in horror. Arcing in from over the ridge, still distant enough to be outside weapons range, were the white-hulled mechs of ComStar. Directly behind the Wolves.
"All units, incoming ComStar forces! Trinary Battle and Trinary Assault, move to deny the ComStar! Trinary Striker, finish off the Ninth! Binary Elemental, assist Trinary Striker!" Drkad's own Timberwolf was already moving, moving at flank speed to edge around the valley to face the incoming ComStar. The other Wolves, aside from Trinary Striker and the Elementals, were also turning to face the ComStar.
"Colonel, their IFF registers as units from the Eleventh Army!"
An anonymous Wolf cursed over the comnet. "Damn the Falcons!" The Eleventh Army, at last report, had been committed to tying down the floundering Jade Falcon warriors near Olalla.
"Leave the Falcons for later. For now, kill the ComStar! Trinary Battle! Hold the center and prepare to advance. Alpha, Bravo Assault, left flank. Charlie and Delta Assault, right flank."
Cyrus' voice crackled over the comnet, the private commanders' channel. "No reserves, Colonel?"
"Trinary Striker will serve as our reserve. The Ninth Army is dead, save for a handful of damaged and inferior mechs. You will command the right, Captain Cyrus. Work your units around to their rear; envelop them and push them into the valley. Trinary Battle will fall back, and use their jump capability to cross the valley, with Trinary Striker providing covering fire. The Elementals will infiltrate their line of battle, and strike them from within."
"By your command, Colonel."
The ComStar units were nearing extreme range. The mechs of Trinary Assault had already shifted their paths, running nearly perpendicular to the ComStar axis. As the ComStar units entered firing range, a barrage of Arrow IV warheads leapt from the heavy mechs of Trinary Battle, driving deep furrows in the lines of the Eleventh. The ComStar advance stalled, reformed, faltered again as a second blast washed over them, and drove onwards, their own shorter-ranged weaponry finally responding. Mechs burned and died, collapsing to the rain-soaked ground.
Drkad could only hope that the ferocity of his Wolves and his desperate plan would pay off. The ComStar units were fresher, had superior numbers, and were on the higher ground. To make matters worse, the Wolves were backlit by the burning remnants of the Ninth Army.
The Clansmen of Trinary Battle ignored these factors, driving deep into the heart of the ComStar assault. Elementals dueled with the battle-suited infantry, the swirling melee spiced with the danger of being trampled by the heavier mechs.
But the press of numbers finally began to take its' toll on the valiant warriors of Clan Wolf. Trinary Battle began, ever so slowly, to give ground, grudgingly leaving a trail of ComStar dead behind them.
As soon as the ComStar elements began straining at their leash, appearing on the verge of breaking formation to engage Trinary Battle in a running fight, Nova Captain Cyrus drove the mechs of Trinary Assault into the rear of the ComStar thrust. The rearguard halted, turning to face the oncoming mechs, and was promptly overrun. Trinary Battle edged backwards at a faster pace, enticing the lead ComStar units to ignore Trinary Assault and concentrate on the foes to their fore.
The ComStar advance began crumbling, as individual units began reacting to the Wolves nipping at them from all directions. Commanders formed islands of sanctuary and order, but chaos ebbed and flowed around these pockets.
But despite the casualties, despite the confusion, the sheer weight of the ComStar advance drove the Wolves back to the valley, forcing them against the hellish rent in the earth where the bodies of the ComStar Ninth Army lay burning. Trinary Battle executed their aerial retreat perfectly, falling back across the burning chasm under cover of the concentrated fire of Trinary Striker. Trinary Assault continued to engage the ComStar rear with their hit-and-fade tactics, ganging up on lone mechs or squadrons, hamstringing the slower units while the faster mechs advanced deeper into the firezones of Trinary Striker and Battle.
But even Wolf pride and ferocity could not deny the inevitable. Finally, a massive wave of over twenty ComStar mechs managed to form a beachhead on the far side of the valley, splitting the forces of Trinary Striker and Battle. Battlesuited infantry, escorted by small, fast mechs, had sidled around the far edge of the valley, rounding up the Wolf defensive line from the flank. Trinary Assault fell prey to a ComStar ambush, the combined firepower of three squadrons stalling the exhausted Wolf advance. Only sheer determination and skill allowed them to fight their way free of the encircling ComStar force, smashing their way towards the Wolf lines down a trail of broken mechs, Clan and ComStar alike.
Star Captain Horus of Trinary Striker managed to stall the advancing ComStar infiltrators, driving back the wave of infantry and fast mechs, but at the cost of allowing a half-squad of ComStar heavy units to cross the valley, joining the bulge against the Wolf lines. Star Captain Malthis personally led the charge of Trinary Battle against the dangerous ComStar beachhead, driving the Eleventh Army mechs back into the blazing valley floor, but at the cost of his own life, and the lives of more Wolf pilots than could be spared.
Emboldened by the flagging condition of the Wolves, the Eleventh Army halted to regroup, certain that the Wolves were in no condition to counterattack. When the rush finally came, it was a backbreaking attack at all points along the Wolf lines. Outnumbered five-to-one by an enemy who still had fresh units to throw at the Wolves, the Dread Legion yet held on, fangs barred in the face of the ComStar assault. They were fighting on pride, now. All thoughts of survival, of strategy, of escape had long been ground out of them during the grim hours of the stormy night. Each Wolf had only a single desire, now: to go out in a blaze of glory, to meet in the halls of the dead surrounded by an escort of ComStar. To die for Khan and Clan. To die with honor.
Morning dawned on Tukayyid. Were one to look from the peak of the Porizistu Mountains, the sunrise would look dim and hazy, obscured as it was by smoke. Across the planet, ComStar forces fought to end the rampage of the invading Clans. Smoke drifted skyward from battlefields scattered over the world. From the Dinju Mountains, where the Touman of Smoke Jaguar hunted. From Joje and Tost, where, despite horrendous casualties and overwhelming odds, ComStar was holding against the unrelenting assault of Clan Nova Cat. From Luk, now the territory of Clan Ghost Bear. From Kozice Prime, where the Diamond Sharks fought in a grinding battle of attrition. From the Devil's Bath, where Steel Vipers and ComStar units fought a shifty running battle amongst the hot springs and geysers of the wastelands. From the Przeno River, where the Falcon banner was in retreat. From Brazo and Skupo, where the might of Clan Wolf held sway.
From anywhere but the Porizistu Mountains, the smoke would have been lost in the great plumes spewing from the battlefields at Brazo and Skupo. But were one to stand at the mountain's peak, watching the future history of the Inner Sphere take form, one would be able to notice the funeral pyre of Clan Wolf's 238th Assault Cluster, cloistered in a tiny valley, one of many along the mountain slopes.
Long live the Legion.
238th Assault Cluster (The Dread Legion)
Star Colonel Arkak Drkad
Trinary Command
Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie Command Stars (5 Battlemechs each)
Trinary Assault (Nova Captain Cyrus)
Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta Assault Stars (5 Battlemechs each)
Trinary Battle (Star Captain Malthis)
Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie Battle Stars (5 Battlemechs each)
Trinary Striker (Star Captain Horus)
Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie Striker Stars (5 Battlemechs each)
Binary Elemental (Star Captain Harkenin)
Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta Elemental Stars (5 Elemental Points each)
Rogue Fighter Star (10 Fighters)
Resources:
Sixty-five Battlemechs (various weights, favoring Medium and Assault)
One hundred Elementals
Ten Fighters
Dropship support
Field Support Units
Officer Cadre:
One Star Colonel (CO)
One Nova Captain (XO)
Three Star Captains
One Nova Commander
Twelve Star Commanders
Four Elemental Star Commanders
One Fighter Star Commander
All names, characters, and personas presented herein are © David Karcher III.
Mechwarrior, Battlemech, ComStar, Tukayyid, Skye Rangers, Skupo, and Brazo are © of their respective owners.
To: General Arturus Steiner,
Margrave, Skye Theater
From: Star Colonel Arkak Drkad, Commander, Mobile Field Operations
Regarding: Tharkad War Game Results and Skye Ranger Policy
General Steiner;
We both know of the "tragic" events which surround the recent combat simulations on Tharkad; however, I believe there is a solution, one which is both simple and effective.
As you remember, the dropships carrying the heavy artillery were the unlucky victims of repeated AeroSpace fighter attack runs; while our own defenses managed to maul the invading squadrons, the loss of the artillery was hard felt once the ground campaign was underway. While the squadron commanders confessed in their after-action reports that they did not realize they had struck the artillery, such a coincidence is possible, even likely, to occur again - in combat. The results were horrifying enough in simulations; in reality, the devastation would be catastrophic, both for morale and material.
Infantry and armored units have long carried mobile artillery units with them into combat. Mech units, however, do not. The theory behind this is well-known; a Mech is an artillery unit, one capable of front-line action. But few Mechs, if any, possess the capability to lob shells over mountains, and the vertical nature of Mech design prevents the use of some heavy artillery due to problems of balance, ammunition, and weight. These artillery platforms have no drawbacks in and of themselves; it is only when coupled with the chassis of a Mech that their unwieldy nature comes to light. Thus, I propose that the Skye Rangers adopt a new policy regarding field artillery units. Mobile Field Base personnel, who are never far behind the advance of any thrust by the Mech units, can and should be trained in the use of field artillery. With guaranteed fire support from units whose only concern is for the Mech brigades, we should avoid the fiasco of the Tharkad simulations. With the added firepower, the MFB can take part in the ground operations beyond the logistical and secure fire support for Mech units.
Hence, it is with my utmost support that I recommend the immediate training and equipping of field artillery for Mobile Field Base personnel. We must avoid another, and more importantly, real, Tharkad.
Most Respectfully,
Star Colonel Arkak Drkad
- Authored by: Arkak Drkad
The heavy tread of the Mech shook the decrepit cityscape. Although relatively small, massing in at a mere twenty-five tons, the Commando-class Mech was still a formidable engine of war. It was aptly named, being small enough to pass unnoticed through an enemy's lines, yet powerful enough to do a significant amount of damage upon reaching its destination.
Dereth Kessen let a slight smile play over his craggy features. He had no personal problems with today's target, but the Draconis Combine did. Not that he had any particular loyalty to the Combine, but they paid well. And money was something that Kessen was loyal to.
Up ahead, the target came into view. A relatively prosperous office building, it stood out from the rest of the city like a peacock amongst ravens. Kessen planned to change that.
Adjusting the dual-joystick controls, he gently placed his targeting reticule over the third floor. The occupants of that floor were selling weapons and munitions to enemies of the Combine, and so they had been deemed fair game by the Combine's rulers.
Kessen savored the moment. His quad laser battery was seething with unreleased energy, preparing to shred the office building. But Kessen waited . . . the feeling of power was something few mercenaries were able to feel, and he treasured those few moments when it came his way.
Then he pressed the firing studs, and his cannons blazed. Crimson energy tore at the glass and concrete, rendering it into slag. Explosions burst from the office, and in the distance, Kessen could hear the hooting of an alarm. The third floor collapsed in on itself; for a moment, Kessen cringed. His orders had specified no destruction other than hostile targets and, of course, the third floor. But the structure held, and Kessen breathed a sigh of relief.
Turning his machine, Kessen headed back to the dropzone, already counting the credits he would collect from this operation.
A whine from his targeting computer alerted him moments before his Mech shuddered under the impact of a dual-autocannon system. Sparks erupted from his left flank, and he brought his lasers to bear on the as-yet unseen target. Patiently, he waited, his eyes flickering over the cityscape.
There! He aimed at the half-seen hulking shape of a medium tank. The tank, realizing that he had been spotted, hurriedly backtracked into the cover of a vehicle garage.
But not quite fast enough. Kessen's lasers opened fire, flashes of light piercing the hardened armor of the tank. A gout of smoke erupted from the garage bay, followed an instant later by a fireball as the tanks munitions cooked off.
Sneering at his defeated foe, Kessen threw full power to his engine, and disappeared into the night. The Combine owed him a bonus for that . . .
- Authored by: Arkak Drkad
At least we don't have to worry about freezing anymore, Sergeant Perol grimly thought as he edged his way closer to the flaming rubble. Formerly a mobile HQ vehicle, it was now only useful for two things: a fire to keep warm, and scrap metal when it was burned out.
The sounds of gunfire rattled in the distance. Perol savored them, content in the knowledge that they were on the other side of the valley. The heavy bass chatter of autocannons, the hiss of laser weapons, the shriek of the missile volley's; Perol knew them all.
The other surviving members of the platoon assigned to guard the mobile HQ savored the heat emanating from their ruined charge. They were lucky; the eight of them had been out guarding the perimeter when the air strike had roared overhead, depositing their payload of air-to-ground missiles before the sonic boom had even reached the soldiers on the ground.
Beyond the circle of light provided by the fire, Perol knew there was unending kilometers of snow and ice. In the gloom, he could make out the twin ridge of mountains which loomed on either side of them. At the north end was the city of Lothlan. At the south was the trenches. Row upon row of heavy weapons, missile batteries, and Mechs allied with the Free Worlds League stood stubbornly against the military might of the Skye Rangers, servants of the cursed Lyran Commonwealth. Perol knew that it was only a matter of time until the Skye Rangers broke through; their units had secured control of the airspace, and reinforcements could not be diverted from the main battle lines even if they could have traveled safely. As such, it was only a matter of waiting for the ammunition and fuel to run out.
But the Skye Rangers didn't seem to be inclined to wait. Night after night, their fighters streaked overhead, sometimes spending their ammunition on the defenses, sometimes on Lothlan itself. During the day, the fighters retired and let the Mechs take over. Perol wasn't sure which he preferred; the Mechs were more likely to establish a breach in the lines, but the fighters could strike with impunity behind the lines.
Over the crackle of the fire, he thought he could hear a dull, steady rumble. The expression on the faces of his comrades confirmed it; they were looking around, half in fear, half in hope. Maybe it was a relief column, finally arrived.
Or maybe not. The shape which loomed out of the darkness was small, for a Mech. Unfortunately, it came from the south, where the enemy was. Also unfortunately, even a small Mech was more than enough to take on his ragtag group of survivors.
Perol snatched up his sidearm, barking out orders for his men to spread out. They needed no encouragement; they were running in all directions, knowing in their minds that they could not get far enough away; no man could outrun even the slowest Mech, and the terrain here was open tundra.
Unconscious of the defiance which played over his features, Perol dove into a crater left by the air strike's missiles. Fumbling for his comlink as he landed sprawling on the churned-up slush, he called for his men to circle around and try to get behind the behemoth; if they could get close enough, explosives planted in the joints might disable it long enough for them to haul the pilot out and kill him.
At that moment, the Mech decided it's attempt at stealth had failed. Perol heard the belching hiss of a PPC; an instant later, a wash of bluish light brightened the night, and he heard someone scream.
Perol ignored the scream; a PPC's a hot weapon . . . it'll take him a moment to cool off . . . his thoughts rambled onward as he clambered out of the crater, shouting for whoever was left to follow him. The thunderclap of a rifle showed that someone was following orders; Perol saw sparks as the solid slugs impacted against the Mech's armor.
The Mech was steadily advancing toward them, it's torso rotating to track movement to Perol's left. He cursed as he remembered that the pilot would be able to use thermal optics and computer tracking to see even in the dark. Perol desperately raised his pistol, knowing the futility of it yet determined to try.
The bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the cockpit. But the shots were not wasted; the pilot apparently decided that a shooter was more of a threat than a retreating soldier. The Mech's torso began to twist toward Perol; Perol instinctively knew that the heat level on the PPC would have reached tolerable levels, and that once the pilot lined him up in his sights, he would be dead.
Then a streak of light arced through the air above Perol's head, and impacted against the Mech's left arm. The arm was knocked slightly off-course in the instant of firing, and though the PPC blast seared him and sent him sprawling, Perol was still alive. Perol almost laughed aloud; that would be Private Grunly; he'd managed to dig up a working rocket launcher from the wreckage. The thought of such a weapon, powerful as it was against infantry, actually foiling a Mech was almost too much for Perol.
But the delay had been enough. Privates Jensk and Hooke had managed to sneak around behind the machine, and were already pulling the pins on a collection of grenades. Private Koth had clambered onto the massive foot, and had torn open a maintenance hatch. Grenades were supplied, and Koth chucked them into the Mechs interior. The multiple crump of detonations was music to Perol's ears. Even more so was the screech of tortured metal as the explosions tore at the machine's vitals. As Koth leapt clear, the Mech stumbled forward twice more, then collapsed as its' leg twisted and buckled.
War whoops sounded from over the tundra; two more soldiers came rushing over from the wrecked mobile HQ, slinging their rifles as they ran. Perol looked around tallying his remaining men; Jensk, Hooke, Koth, himself, and the two newcomers, Grunly and Iosk. Eight men, taking down a Mech, with only two losses! No one would ever believe -
The whine of servomotors forcefully hauled his attention back to the tundra. He looked on in horror, a horror mirrored in the face of each of his men, as the Mech slowly raised itself up on one arm. With an almost arrogant slowness, the other arm tracked toward the soldiers clustered together. Knowing he was already too late, Perol shouted for them to split up and run.
Then the belch of a PPC sounded, and Perol had the split-second impression of a scintillating ball of light racing out to meet them, and then there was darkness.
- Authored by: Arkak Drkad
