|
|
The Zulu's Origin
A raid has some interesting complications
by Marcus Taylor |
|
New Auckland Water Treatment Plant, Main Street August 10, 3051
Greg
----
"Okay, folks," I announced to my lancemates, "let's get moving. We've got just under an hour before that Clanner leaves the water plant, and I want to catch it while it's stationary."
My speaker crackled for a second, and Sergeant Eddie Merrill asked me, "How do you know it'll be sitting there, sir? Maybe this test-tuber patrols around the facility."
"Good question. The intelligence report stated that this pilot does keep moving at other stops on his route, but at this plant he always sits still for two hours."
"Could that mean that *SHE* isn't in her 'Mech...sir?" was the retort from Sgt. Samantha Brody, my other scout. She liked to needle me about supposed sexism; neither of us took it too seriously.
"Christ, Sam! These Clammers are rumored to be honorable knights trying to revive an age of chivalry that probably NEVER existed as they think; I doubt one of them would actually slope off for a quick smoke while he - or she - is supposed to be standing watch!"
"Whatever, sir. I don't think we should be bantering like this over the comm channels." That'd be 'By-the-Book-Jonas'. My second-in-command was a real stiff-neck once he got into his 'Mech, but quite a different man off the battlefield. His spare time was split equally between bar-hopping, reading pulp novels, and wrestling. He had gotten the rest of us in the lance interested in the latter activity, much to the benefit of our general physiques.
"Right, Thompson. Zulu lance? Let's stop talking about it and do it."
Even before I released the transmit button, the two lighter 'Mechs of my lance broke into a run and split off to circle on either side around the hill hiding us from the plant. Jonas and I stayed our course and sped up slightly to climb the hill.
When we were just below the peak of the rise, Thompson stopped his 'Mech, a medium-class Whitman, to take up a hidden barrage position. With his long-range missile racks and guidance from the rest of us, Jonas could lay down pretty heavy fire without ever exposing himself to retaliation.
As I crossed the hill's summit, Eddie reported in. "Positive sighting on the bogie. No reaction. Don't understand it, sir; he's gotta be picking me up on radar by now. Got visual on him - Sam might be right! The cockpit hatch is open. It's a pretty nasty-lookin' piece of work, by the way."
"He's right, Loot. I've got a lock on it, and it ain't budging. It's hot, though - somebody's left the engine running. Do we still plaster it?"
Before I could make a decision, Merrill sounded off again. "Got another contact; person running from the building, maybe the pilot. No, wait. He isn't heading for the 'Mech."
"Don't blast him, either of you. Eddie, you follow the runner; watch for a trap and shout if anything hostile shows. Sam, you keep an eye on the plant for other signs of life. Jonas? I'm gonna close on the bogie; I'll want you to watch my back." A chorus of acknowledgements followed my orders.
I triggered my jump jets and shot away from the hill. My Grasshopper was half again as big as the Clan 'Mech, so I should at least survive its first strike. As I got closer, I began to think more favorably of Sam's idea; three 'Mechs were now well within the range of this strange 'Mech's weapons, and it hadn't even flinched. I could see the open hatch atop the head, and wondered if the pilot was the coward running away, or if the Clanner had just been called into the building for some reason.
Now I was past the optimal range of my weapons, and closing to the point where I could touch the enemy 'Mech with an outstretched arm. As I proceeded to do just that, I looked through the other's cockpit canopy and saw the empty seat. "Right, folks; looks like I owe Brody some money this time. Unless the mechjock's hiding behind his chair, the lights are on but nobody's home! Keep your eyes open for the pilot."
"Uh, Loot? I don't think I'll have any trouble keeping my big blues on this pilot; that runner's just found her."
"Hah! That makes two you owe me, sir!"
"Whatever!" I responded with a laugh. "Eddie, try to let these people know that they're our prisoners; Sam, cover the plant; Jonas, sit yourself on that hill and watch for any black hats coming to help." I turned and paced through the assembly of water tanks and piping to go demand the surrender of my first Clansman - er, Clanswoman.
Astrid
------
"I don't care how cold it is; you're not touching anything until we get you properly detained," the faceless voice said.
Astrid was furious. Furious with this idiot who wouldn't even let her dry herself, with Robert for not warning her sooner of the enemy, but mostly with herself for letting her guard down on the one opportunity she had to gain a favorable standing with her comrades. Here she was, standing on the edge of the main water reservoir, naked as the dawn, shivering with the cold, and being watched by a twenty-five-ton 'Mech with three medium lasers pointing at her.
"Oh, well," Astrid thought to herself, "just a matter of a few minutes before their commander gets over here and issues his challenge." She rubbed her arms, trying to beat off the goose pimples.
Sure enough, another Mech soon made its way over and around the assortment of pipes that led to the filtering tanks from the reservoir. This one was tall but slender; larger than her own Nova, but somewhat underarmed by Clan standards. When it was standing alongside her captor, the larger Mech's pilot spoke up from his loudspeaker: "Greetings, Mechwarrior. I am Leftenant Gregory Underhill; I have the distinct pleasure in telling you that you are now a prisoner of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth." This Leftenant Underhill's voice was somewhat bemused; enough so that the mood came through the electronic distortion of the mech's comm-set. "Under the Geneva Convention, you are not required to give any information other than your name, rank, and any serial number or suchlike that your Clan can identify you by..."
'Wait, what is he saying - I am already a prisoner? Without even a Trial to settle the issue?!?' Astrid's mind swirled in confusion, aggrivated by the chill. 'What is happening here? Have they just kidnapped me, as if they were Bandits who needed more slaves just raided the homeworld? This is INSANE!'
"...so if you'd care to dry off and dress," the voice was saying, "making sure to not try anything stupid with your sidearm, we'll take you and your friend back to the control building."
Astrid finally found her voice. "What? Are you saying you have decided to just skip the Trial and just declare me the loser, and property of you, the victor? You are not even going to fight?"
There was a pause before 'Underhill' responded. "Uh, no; why waste materiel when you can settle the matter without fighting?"
She had to agree with this argument; it was the principle behind the whole Zellbringen system - conservation of resources by minimizing the size of combatants - but this was ridiculous! It was like they just clubbed her over the head and dragged her off by the hair!
"Yes, but there ARE limits! This is not efficiency; it is just a hostage taking! I expected you to act like honorable warriors, not dezgra bandits. If I knew you would not give me even a chance to prove myself, I would not have let my guard down so easily."
The leader snorted, the sound being distorted through his 'Mech's comm system. "Sorry girl, but all's fair in love and war."
Astrid's ears perked up at this. She'd read a copy of a document listing the few rules of war these Spheroids obeyed. This off-hand remark was surely not an absolute statement of the military ethics of this 'Federated Commonwealth', but maybe it could provide a chink to getting these barbarians to adhere to her customs...
"All? By this you mean even atomic weapons? Taking civilians hostage? Doubtlessly you are here to release some toxin into the water supply, quiaff?"
The shot scored, she saw. The gangly 'Mech shifted suddenly. Just a tremor, as if the hands at the controls flinched. Astrid continued her barrage. "And am I to infer by your statement that I am now your property?" She was - even by her own rules - if she lost a Trial, but these Spheroids couldn't know that. "Shall I just lie back and await you?"
If her last barb stung, the next nearly killed. The Grasshopper's arm raised to smash down on this impudent woman. As quickly as the motion started, the 'Mech stopped. The speaker blared, "Damn you, we're not boorish pirates! We warriors of the Inner Sphere have rules to war just as you, exile. Further, some of us have personal ethics that we limit our behavior with, and you're lucky that I don't consider squashing a Mech-jockey out of her cockpit fair play!" The hidden Mechwarrior's voice seemed to take on mockingly stilted speech similar to her own background, despite the electronic distortion. "I shall let thee have thine Trial, whatever it is, but thou had best tell us the rules by which we have to obey, lest we offend thine honor again, fair lady!"
Astrid could not let herself be baited. "Fine then, if you could let me have two immediate concessions in letting me dress and you dismounting from your 'Mech - since I feel uncomfortable in lecturing faceless strangers whilst I am naked - we can begin." Astrid started to walk along the wall of the resevior, but turned suddenly. "And lest you think I will take the opportunity to seize a weapon and attack you out in the open, your comrades can keep their weapons bearing on me while I dress. " This remark made most of her captors ease their aims out of reflexive guilt. All but one; she would have to remember that.
Greg
----
This woman was getting on my nerves; everyone could see that. She was pushing my buttons, and I was probably playing right into some vague plan of hers. Jonas said as much after I agreed to her 'trial'.
"You can't be serious, sir! Your 'Mech is the only one that could stand up to hers, and even then it's not that likely you could win alone." Thompson was referring to the MIIO briefing we sat through on Clan behavior - a 'small-scale' dispute like one over the water treatment facility would end up with a one-on-one duel.
"S'okay, Jonas; I think I've got an idea how to keep our 'Mechs and hers in spotless condition. And if it goes well, we'll get a tame prisoner and that spotless, lethal Clan 'Mech as booty, to boot." I began to explain what I had in mind. |
|
|
|
|
| Next page >>> |
| Page :
1 2 3 4 5 6 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
