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In Thy Father's Footsteps...
A young Mechwarrior discovers his heritage
by Jeffrey Smith |
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Cruz Alta, Lyran Alliance
3 March 3062
"Peggy, it's time."
"NO! I won't lose him like I lost his father! You bastards just can't leave well enough alone!" Peggy Abrams shoved the decrepit former MechWarrior through the doorway, and only the swift action of one of his colleagues saved him from falling.
"Peggy, he has a right to know the truth. He'll be eighteen next week..."
"I don't care! It isn't bad enough that he joined the Militia, but now you want to take him away on some insane adventure that is sure to get him killed! You stay the hell away from my son!"
The scarred veteran slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry Peggy, I can't. We have an obligation that we must uphold - we owe too much to Brent's father. We've waited far, far too long as it is hunting for information, but we finally have a lead. We should have gone last year - but we all agreed to give Brent the chance to join us before we left. After his birthday, we will give him that choice - and we will accept whatever he decides."
The disparate group, heads bowed, left the sobbing woman clutching the doorjar.
****
"What the flaming hell is *THAT* thing doing on your 'Mech Brent?!"
Brent Abrams pushed his glasses farther up his nose. "Looks to me like it's one of those things known as a 'weapon'...."
"Thank's for the tip Einstein, I couldn't figure that out by myself. I mean how the hell did you manage to cram a PPC into a spot made for a large laser? I assume you took out the machine guns too..." Sally Gutzman speculated.
Abrams wiped his hands on his jumpsuit as he gestured at the *Watchman*'s left arm."Yup, but normally that wouldn't free up enough space. Ya see, it's ClanTech."
"Where the hell did you get your hands on a ClanTech PPC on this backwater?!" his lance commander yelped, her eyes widening.
He shrugged. "Some merc unit on their way to the Free Worlds League needed a buttload of double heat sinks for some reason, and we have them stacked to the walls after that ordering debacle last fall. They got about seventy, plus my old laser and that broken Gauss Rifle that's been gathering dust for the last three months - they think they can fix it."
Abrams pointed to the medium 'Mech's chest. "I ripped out the machine gun ammo and tossed another heat sink in, and since I didn't need the CASE any longer I added a little armor here and there."
"And what will you do when that thing breaks?"
"Put a large laser back in, probably, or maybe something else..."
Noting his eyes losing focus as Abrams worked on the problem, Gutzman flicked the tip of her lancemate's nose to regain his attention. "Cruz Alta to Abrams, come in please - we're losing you."
Abrams winced. "Sorry Sally, I..."
"... get preoccupied easily," she finished with an evil grin on her face. "What are you doing for your birthday?"
"Honestly? I haven't a clue. Birthdays haven't ever really been that important to me..."
"C'mon Brent, you're going to be eighteen! You're turning into a man, and you're going to hang out at the library?!" Gutzman snorted in disgust, rolling her eyes. "You need to get out more."
"Well..." Abrams stared fixedly at his feet, his face slowly turning bright red, "I was planning on asking if you would like..."
Abrams never got to complete the thought, as alarm klaxons began to pound out their mournful wail.
****
*So, what are you doing for your birthday Brent? Oh, I thought i'd sit in my 'Mech and wait for some pirates to land.* Abrams mused as his lance watched the DropShip descend. The pirates were almost flaunting their presence, settling in a field within spitting distance of the planet's capital. *They either don't know what's here and think they can take us - or they *do* know what's here and *know* they can take us.* "This is going to suck."
"Cut the chatter Bravo Three." Sally Gutzman's voice, devoid of emotion, responded immediately. Abrams winced as he turned his mike off. *Crap. I could've been a friggin doctor, or worked in a lab somewhere, but noooo, I had to join the Militia!* The honest core of Abrams informed him that he was a damn good MechWarrior - or else he never would have earned a 'Mech at the age of seventeen. He also knew that Cruz Alta would need every advantage it could get today. *A *Union* can carry twelve 'Mechs - if that thing is full, we're in deep shit.* The Planetary Militia could only muster seven 'Mechs and a dozen vehicles, and all were at the low end of the weight range. Even worse, Raymond Bergur's *UrbanMech* was without the use of it's autocannon - the weapon was being overhauled when the JumpShip had appeared at the pirate point near the planet's smallest moon. Three days frantic effort had been insufficient to repair the weapon, so Bergur would only have a single small laser as he charged into battle.
* Six to twelve. Super.*
The odds were not as bad as Abrams had feared. Nine mechs poured from the grounded ship as soon as the engines shut down, forming themselves into three groups of three. Screened by the *Stinger*, *Jenner*, and *Panther*, the pirates began their advance upon the city.
Commander Leamy's voice crackled from Brent's radio. "Ok, lets go with plan Delta. Ground command, move 'em out."
Three *Fulcrums* and a pair of *Rommel* tanks rose from concealment, screened by three *Pegasus* and a lance of *Galleons*. The vehicles closed rapidly on the pirate *Union*, skillfully using the terrain to screen themselves from the firepower of the enemy 'Mechs. The invaders abandoned their advance on the city and turned to engage the ground company - leaving their rear arcs deliciously open to the hidden defending 'Mechs.
LRMs and PPC bolts hammered the surprised pirates, concentrating on the heavier enemy units. A *Rifleman* fell, it's entire rear torso ripped open by dozens of LRMs, while the *Dervish* pacing it lost it's right-side LRM rack to a PPC beam. The invaders hesitated briefly then split their force, reorganizing their units into standard lances on the fly. The heavier unit faced off against the militia 'Mechs, while the other lance fell upon the vehicles.
The pirates facing the defending 'Mechs concentrated their fire on Rene Ance's *Hollander*, obviously wishing to remove the Gauss Rifle the 'Mech mounted from play as soon as possible. The light 'Mech got a single, poorly aimed round off before it fell. They next targeted Bob Chilton's *Commando*, which was vaporised in a single massive volley - but not before it had sent a quartet of SRMs spinning into one of the gaping holes opened in the *Dervish*'s chest by the defenders. The older 'Mech was unable to mount CASE, so the detonation of it's LRM ammunition obliterated the war machine. The pirate MechWarrior successfully punched out, but his ejection seat drifted into the stream of machine gun fire from the invading *Stinger* that was riddling a pair of crippled *Galleons*.
Meanwhile, a pirate *Hunchback* was exchanging autocannon volleys with the pair of militia *Rommels*. One of the tanks detonated with a roar, but not before cruelly wounding the medium 'Mech. The remaining vehicle severed the *Hunchback*'s leg just as the pirate was cutting loose with another strike. The 'Mech spun as it fell, autocannon rounds shooting wildly across the sky. One of those rounds, nearly spent, starred the glass of Abram's cockpit as he was taking aim at the pirate *Shadow Hawk*. The impact caused him to flinch, raising his aim slightly, so the particle burst from his main weapon didn't tear into the torso of the 55-ton 'Mech - it decapitated it, slicing through the flimsy armor protecting the pilot like a vibroblade through a counterfeit C-Bill. Abrams blinked, openmouthed, then shifted his aim to another invader.
The light pirate lance was almost gone, leaving the defenders to face a *Crusader* and a *Centurion*. Heedless of their losses, the attackers sprinted for Phillip Green's *Watchman*, nearly a twin of the one Brent piloted. They emptied their weapons into it, taking it down an instant before Bergur launched a Death from Above attack that removed both his *Urbanmech* and the *Centurion* from the battle.
The final pirate 'Mech ignored the wounded *Battle Hawk* which was methodically pumping pulse laser shots into it's torso, instead sending a volley of thirty LRMs streaking into Brent's *Watchman*. The cratered armor held, but the force of the missile's impact was enough to knock the 'Mech over. Abrams sat his 'Mech up just in time to see the *Crusader* closing for the kill - until he noted the pair of TAG beams painting the 'Mech.
Commander Leamy's *Trebuchet* tossed two full LRM-15 loads at the enemy 'Mech, joined by another twenty missiles from the remaining *Fulcrums*. When the explosions cleared, the pirate 'Mech lay at the feet of Brent's medium 'Mech. He got to his feet and radioed his thanks to the two tanks - as the neared vehicle detonated with the impact of twin PPC bolts. Brent turned in shock as three more 'Mech descended from the Dropship. "Command, more 'Mechs - one heavy and two assaults... and they're *OmniMechs!*."
The center 'Mech, a *Gladiator*, raised it's left arm, the trio of pulse lasers housed within centering on the *Watchman*'s head. Abrams cut his 'Mech to the left, charging for a stand of trees.
"Command, I recommend we fall back to the city. There's no way we can take these guys in the open."
Leamy's voice replied immediately, his 'Mech backing away toward the treeline. "Concur. Sally, take your *Battle Hawk* and pull back with what's left of Alpha Company. Ground Commander, I need some of your infantry to lase the invaders with TAGs so I can nail them.
Brent, you and I will pair off until we get back to the city. We have no choice but to take them into built up areas. It's either accept the property damage or surrender, and I don't think they're in the mood for mercy. Start getting the civilians out of the northwest suburbs right now."
Stuttering red beams sliced into the *Watchman*'s right arm, ripping divots in the armor covering the 'Mechs lasers. The protection held against the first slavo, but the second severed the arm entirely. Abrams fought his controls as he compensated for the loss of the limb, gripping a tree in passing as he dodged into a grove. Sticking his head up, he centered his PPC on his antagonist as it shifted aim to one of the withdrawing hovercraft. He had an excellent view, therefore, when the two *Chippewa* AeroSpace fighters zipped out from behind the ridge and tore into the rear armor of the OmniMech. Both sides of the 'Mechs torso were cored, ripping into the exposed portions of the *Gladiator*'s XL Engine. The crippled 'Mech tumbled to the ground as it's killers zoomed over it's corpse.
Brent shifted aim, stunned at the turn of events. "We don't have *any* aerospace assets on this planet, let alone a pair of heavy fighters. Where did they come from?"
Gutzman's voice, equally confused, replied."Beats me Brent, but I'm not complaining."
Static filled the channels as bleed-through from the fighters filled the airwaves. "Dropship Command, this is HK-88. *Gladiator* is down, *Madcat-D* and *Kodiak* in landing zone."
"Roger HK-88, good work." The source of the second transmission became evident as a trio of *Leopard*-class Dropships appeared in the distance. "Blazer Strike Team, you are go for combat drop."
"Obliged for the trip Dropship Command, we are dropping now." Hatches blew off on the Dropships as 'Mech after 'Mech fell from their holds, slowing themselves with jump jets or disposable drop packs. As the 'Mechs landed they began to exchange fire with the outclassed pirates. "Planetary Militia, this is Blazer One. The enemy JumpShip has been neutralized, and we'll have these two clowns down in a few minutes. The situation is well in hand.
Abrams sighed deeply as he tossed a PPC bolt at the *Madcat* for good measure, the blast of the mighty weapon a mere fraction of the energy bathing the OmniMech. The nightmare was over. *Hell of a birthday present.*
***
"My father? He died in some border raid when I was six. My mom doesn't like to talk about it."
"Not exactly, Brent. You see, although your father was known as Ben Abrams, he chose that as an alias when he retired to keep the newsies out of his hair." the blond giant who has led the 'Mech company stated.
"What was left of it after the War of 3039," one of the Blazers mutters.
"Anyway, your father was actually the leader of our unit, a renown scientist, and a damn fine Mechwarrior - Doctor Benjamin Banzai."
Brent's eyes widened. "The same Doctor Banzai who designed the *Hatchetman*? The man who unlocked the Gray Death Memory Core? "
The MechWarrior nodded. "The same. He married your mother and settled here after the War of 3039. After you were born we all thought his adventuring days were over, until this was forwarded to me in 3049, about a year after he vanished ." He stopped walking and brought a pocket holodisk player from his pocket and activated it. An image of Doctor Banzai - Brent's father - sprang to life.
"Tommy, if you're getting this message, I'm probably dead." The matter of fact tone Doctor Banzai delivered this line sent a chill down Brent's spine. "Since this is coming through ComStar, I can't be too specific, but I've discovered a horrendous threat outside the Periphery. Sooner or later, you'll understand the following sentence: "There are seventeen. They are not the threat. Nor are the other three, nor anything else related to the group they originally came from, even those that didn't take this particular route - in fact, they are at risk too. It is something else, although I'm not quite sure what their origin is. Only you and the rest of the team can be trusted to spread the news, which I'll try to send in another message. If I am unable, sources within the seventeen will contact you." The image paused. "Take care of my son Tommy." The image blanked out.
The group continued walking toward the downed pirate *Stinger*. Brent noted that they were angling off toward the *Dervish*'s pilot's chair and the body it contained. Not a single pirate had allowed himself to be taken alive, those not killed in battle detonating suicide charges inside their cockpits. Tommy continued to speak. "We're pretty sure 'the seventeen' refer to the Clans before Operation Revival was launched, and 'the three' are the Clans Absorbed and Annihilated prior to the invasion. The rest of the message seems to rule out any SLDF survivors that fled the collapse of the original Star League. We haven't managed to figure out what the threat is, but a friend of a friend brought this back from Huntress."
He pulled a battered patch from his pocket. Barely legible through the caked-on grime was a symbol that Brent immediately identified: the retired shoulder flash of Team Banzai. "We didn't lose any of our people during the Invasion - I've tripled checked. The *only* Team Banzai patch unaccounted for, even those lost during the Fourth Succession War, was your fathers."
They reached the perforated body while Brent digested this.
"You think he might still be alive?"
Tommy shrugged. "We don't know, but we hope so. The main thing, though, is to find out what this threat is. That's what your father wanted, and that's what we're going to do. We came here specifically to ask if you wanted to come, but it was nice to crush some pirate scum while we were in the neighborhood."
Brent froze. "You want *me* to join Team Banzai?!"
The group nodded almost as one - except for the man who was kneeling over the pirate body. He gave a whistle of surprise. "It might be a good idea for you to leave the planet, no matter what happens, and move somewhere better defended." He rolled the sleeve up on the corpse's arm, displaying a Clan Star Adder symbol almost obscured by a series of bright orange dots. Tommy echoed the whistle. "Well well well.... curiouser and curiouser."
Brent was confused. "What is it?"
Tommy pointed at the body "Your playmates apparently are members of the Dark Caste. This is pretty damn far from their usual stomping grounds, and they've *never* tried to raid an Inner Sphere world before, for fear of triggering an overwhelming Clan response. They *could* be just raiders, but my guess is that they're here for the same reason we are - for you."
Brent recalled how it had seemed the entire pirate band had been gunning for him. He had dismissed it as an artifact of his mind, but Tommy's statement caused the whole battle to replay itself in his mind. "Why me?"
The Team Banzai leader shrugged. "Beats me, but hopefully sifting through the Dropship's database will give us a few clues. In any case, barring the recovery of something unforeseen from the Dropship, we're leaving for Huntress in three days. Care to join us?"
Brent stared ahead, his eyes losing focus as he thought.
*Abandon my education, my friend?* Then the image of his father, calmly reporting his own probably death as he warned his friends of a danger greater than the Clans, swam before him. He also considered the raid that they had just fought off, which appeared to be a colossal assassination attempt aimed at him. *If I'm that important, dare I risk everyone by *not* going?* He thought of his mother, who had vainly tried to shield him from the truth for so many years. *How will she take it if I leave?*
Team Banzai watched him silently, prepared to accept whatever he decided. Finally, he nodded. "I want to know the truth. Lets go."
THE END? |
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