Part 559: Demon Hawks Campaign Vote 1 Results

Campaign Vote Results

Sweat dripped from the tip of a lock of long, dirty blonde hair as a young woman manhandled a curved armor plate in place over the Komodo’s left hip and settled it into something approximating the right place. She marked it with a line of chalk, letting the welding crews know it had yet to be properly secured. The BattleMech’s had had needed to be detached completely for repairs, the bearings in the hip had been melted into a solid mass. It’d taken the better part of a day to cut and then hammer away the obstruction, but she had to admit the Demon Hawk’s inordinately large technical crew had handled the job as efficiently as any she’d ever seen. She wasn’t certain helping them was the correct thing to do, but she’d been given no instructions. In fact, she’d felt virtually forgotten in the rush to get the Demon Hawks checked out in their new `Mechs.

Noretti didn’t care to think about those `Mechs too closely. They were a reminder of the massive Mechbay at her back, and of the thousands of BattleMechs stored within. The Rim World Republic’s stockpile dwarfed the number of BattleMechs the Snow Ravens had at their disposal, and was buried so deeply an orbital bombardment wouldn’t even inconvenience it. There were even a set of massive, thousand-odd ton drills near the entrance, waiting and ready in case the entrance passageway collapsed. She still thought the Clan’s combined attack force had a numerical edge, but only if this was the Republic’s only such staging area. And only if the bulk of the Republic’s forces hadn’t already been deployed.

She leapt from the Komodo’s leg, seeking another armor plate to fit. A freebirth technician nodded to her in passing, and she bit her lip and looked away to avoid glaring. Someone in the Demon Hawks had understood her status, and a bondcord had been coiled around her left wrist in the Steel Viper style. It was better treatment than she’d expected from barbarians, but humiliating nonetheless. She was twenty, two years out of the Sibko. She’d shot two pilots out of their machines in her first trial of position, and in her first major engagement she’d been captured by Inner Sphere mercenaries. It was an ignominious end to what had seemed to be the beginning of a long and valorous career.

Her hands clenched unconsciously into fists as her anger threatened to boil over. Her only hope now lay in convincing someone to allow her to pilot a BattleMech once again. If she fought honorably and well against her own Clan, perhaps one of them would see fit claim her as a bondsman and she could return to the fold. Even if it meant enduring ‘rehabilitation’ in a solamha unit for a year or two. Barring that, she could at least die with dignity in the cockpit of a BattleMech. Her own grievances with the universe at large would no longer matter, then.

“You’re Noretti.”

She looked up, biting back an angry retort. The speaker was a thin, wiry man at least as well-muscled as any Clan Mechwarrior she’d ever met. He was a bit narrower of build than most, with the body of an athlete—a runner—rather than the wider, wrestler’s build the Clans tended to idealize. His posture was confident and relaxed, as though he was aware of his own strength and felt no need to use it for coercion.

“I am,” she said at last as she brought her anger back under control. She was certain he knew who she was already, and that what she’d taken as a question had to have been largely rhetorical.

“I’m Jason,” he began, drawing a wince from her as he butchered the very idea of precise speech. “I suppose you’re technically IRIS’s, since her Locust was the machine that finally disarmed you, but I’m taking responsibility for your care.”

“How kind of you,” she spat as though she tasted bile.

“The Demon Hawks are my unit,” Jason continued, ignoring her. “Mine and Duncan’s. Assembling this company was a joint effort. Duncan has overall organizational command, but in the field I have tactical command. Which means it’s my decision who does or doesn’t pilot a BattleMech in the field.”

Noretti perked up, her eyes fixing on Jason’s. He’d caught her attention with that and while she knew reacting was playing right into his hands, she also didn’t particularly care.

“We’re a new unit, recently assembled, but every Mechwarrior here is a combat veteran and many of us have faced the Clans before. You may be surprised to learn that you aren’t the first bondsman Duncan and I have taken, so I’m fully aware what surrendering means to a woman like you. You’d like an opportunity to prove yourself a warrior again.”

She stared. Glared. Hissed, “Aye.”

He stared back, unflinching. She raised her estimation of him a few notches—if only their situations had been reversed, he’d have made a fine addition to Clan Snow Raven. Jason continued, “Good. Can you fire upon members of your former Clan?”

“Aye” She didn’t hesitate this time. She’d done so before, and had her career progressed naturally she’d have done so again in the near future.

“I thought as much,” Jason’s tone suggested he disapproved, but meant to take advantage of her regardless. “I’m willing to give you a trial by fire. I need someone to pilot my Phoenix Hawk while I try out the Screamer. The Phoenix Hawk is my personal property. You will, on your honor, bring it home even if the effort kills you. Do you understand?”

Noretti nodded. “Aye.”



****************************************



The briefing room was a bustle of noise and motion as the Mechwarriors of the Demon Hawks took their seats. Their newest pilot, Gordon “Icepick” Franklin, had had no trouble fitting in to the rowdy bunch. Although his name suggested at one time he’d been some Mafia hitman or periphery pirate, Gordon’s quick smile, team-focused attitude, and friendly nature had broken the ice quite effectively. He’d already befriended the bulk of the newly-organized Havoc lance, and his performance in the company’s lance vs. lance simulator runs had been adequate. Duncan had heard that Gordon had been the driving force behind Havoc Lance’s bizarre decision to paint a mysterious ‘17’ logo on the left shins of their BattleMechs, likely as yet another nonsensical prank in the company’s never-ending quest to slowly drive Bethany insane.

She, at least, was sitting at attention. Her posture mirrored by the other Clan bondsman who had positioned herself in the corner nearest the room’s back wall. Duncan had been against allowing her to pilot a BattleMech so soon. In his eyes, Bethany’s ‘conversion’ had been something of a fluke and Jason was going to burn himself finding out if lightning was going to strike twice.

“I’ll have everyone’s attention,” Duncan called, and was gratified when the room quickly fell silent. The Demon Hawks, even those who were still recovering from their injuries, were in good spirits. They were third on the Mercenary leaderboards, behind the Crimson Reapers and the 17th Recon—both of whom had brought an entire regiment and neither of whom had earned their successes at so light a cost. “It seems we’ve earned the Republic’s confidence, so I guess it’s true what they say: no good deed goes unpunished.”

A spattering of muffled laughter brought a smile to Duncan’s face. It hadn’t been much of a joke, but it was still nice to confirm morale was running high. He pressed on, “NRWA’s Central Command has offered us a sub-contract—for those of you who couldn’t or didn’t bother to read the fine print in our contract, that’s well within their rights. As it’s outside of our standard ‘defensive mission’ parameters they’re offering a hefty two million c-bills for us to launch an offensive raid behind the Clan lines. As the objective isn’t anything too immoral, Jason and I have decided to accept this mission.”

“Our objective,” he turned, and took a half-step to the side as a projector along the back wall flickered to life. He took a few seconds to fish a laser pointer from his pocket. “Our objective is an airfield the Snow Ravens have constructed near one of Andurien’s abandoned coastal cities. For reasons that are just now becoming apparent, most of the Clan deployment windows opened over the large, flat coastal plains. Jason and I have wondered why the Republic was willing to let the Clans land in terrain that favors their long-ranged weapons. Well, we’ve just found out the reason.”

Duncan smiled, leaning towards his soldiers as though he were sharing a secret or a great joke with them. “It’s hurricane season on Andurien. As we speak a big category 4 storm is bearing down on the Clan landing positions. It’s going to make landfall in four days. There’s no way the Clans will be able to conduct fighter operations during the storm, so any machines that aren’t on the ground are going to have to make the dangerous run back into space so they can refuel and rearm at their WarShips.”

“During that window, the Clan fighters still on the ground will be completely helpless!” Taj interjected in his boisterous Free Worlds Australian accent.

“Not completely,” Duncan interjected. “The Snow Ravens aren’t fools. These satellite photos were taken before cloud cover rolled in, and as you can see the airfield is being guarded by BattleMech forces. Which is perfectly fine, our objective isn’t to destroy the Clan fighters specifically. Marshal?”

Marshal Romero stepped forward, circling areas of the map with her own laser pointer. “In an effort to prevent hurricane damage to their infrastructure, the railway lines in the hurricane zones have all been turned into wide, open above-ground tunnels about thirty meters across. These tunnels are plenty high enough to accommodate a BattleMech, well ventilated, and made of reinforced ferrocrete to resist the planet’s weather. They’d make an adequate shelter from a direct nuclear attack, and because of the way the train system branches the Clans have no way of effectively tracking a unit inside.”

Duncan picked up where she left off, “Those tunnels are our way in and out of the battlezone. The Snow Ravens take the task of protecting their AeroSpace assets very seriously, and we’re certain to eventually be overrun. Which is why our objective isn’t, strictly speaking, to destroy the Clan fighters on the ground. We can, and we’ll earn our usual bounty for doing so, but the raid itself is the important thing. Our first primary objective is to show the Clans we can hit them where and when they’re not expecting it. So that’s fait accompli, two million c-bills in the bank just for showing up. Our second primary objective is to do so flawlessly, which means withdrawing when your BattleMech takes critical damage.”

Duncan’s smile turned grim. “War is a risky business, but the Clans will undoubtedly have at least a battalion of `Mechs on site. Probably at least thirty, likely forty five or more. So anyone who gets shot out of their machine in a place a friendly can’t reach them isn’t making it home. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not too keen on winding up at the mercy of Clan hospitality. I’m told they don’t like mercenaries much, and we’ve already bloodied their noses once so they’re not likely to show us any mercy a second time around.” He fixed the bondsman, Noretti, with a stare. “So no heroics. I want to see all of you in this briefing room when this is all over.”

“Our first secondary objective,” Jason interjected, “is right up your alley. Central Command wants us to accrue as much bounty as possible. That means destroying or crippling enemy combat machines. After our run-in with Clan armored infantry last time, Duncan managed to convince Central Command that Clan infantry deserves a place on the rewards table as well. As much as I don’t like the idea of shooting at mudboots, we’ll at least be compensated for the risks involved. We do not get paid for shooting at anyone unarmed, so don’t go full Capellan on us, but if they’re armed and sending fire our way they’re now a valid target. Questions?”

No one raised a hand, but the Demon Hawks’ expressions had turned grim. No one liked the idea of gunning down infantry platoons, although he expected shooting the squat, toad-like bodies of the Clan battle armor troopers certainly wouldn’t carry the same revulsion. Shooting infantry was one step above every Mercenary command’s worst nightmare: gunning down rioting civilians.

Jason continued. “Our other secondary objective is to hold the train tunnel open for as long as we can. The Republic is going to follow our attack force with a Battalion of their Revenant BattleDrones. Apparently they’ve got one that should be nigh-undetectable even after the hurricane passes, so the Republic can continue to launch annoyance raids on the Snow Raven airfields even after the Ravens seal all the nearby train tunnel exits. I think Central Command is pinning its hopes on the Snow Ravens withdrawing a portion of their line troops to bolster the defenses of their airfields, which should give their own line troops an edge in the field. Noretti,” Jason pressed, “How are the Snow Ravens likely to respond to our raid?”

“The attack is,” she held her tongue for a few moments, as she considered, “not dishonorable. It is bold, which is in and of itself worthy of respect. Those fighters and BattleMechs are part of our bid, so they are valid targets even when unpiloted. The Khans will not be happy about the raid, and your suspicions will likely prove correct. The Snow Ravens prize their AeroSpace fighters above even their BattleMechs, they will seek to bolster the airfield’s defenses.”

She paused momentarily, then added, “There is one thing that the Rim World Republic’s Central Command has not taken into consideration. Orbital protection of the airfields has been tasked to the Spur, a Lola III destroyer. Its naval lasers have sufficient power to engage ground forces from orbit. The Spur will be greatly hampered by cloud-cover and atmospheric interference, but if things turn against the defenders or if they misidentify your numbers the Spur may attempt a saturation bombardment.”

“I’ll pass that on to Central Command,” Marshal Romero promised, her left hand coming to rest on her chin. She kept her face passive, “None of the Clan WarShips have taken up geostationary orbits, and do we have satellites tracking their movements and analysts computing their probable firing solutions. There is some time delay involved, but we should be able to provide some warning if the Spur begins maneuvering aggressively.”

“Better than nothing,” Jason nodded appreciatively. “We’ve already said ‘yes,’ so it’s too late for second thoughts. We’ll need three days to move into position, and I’d like to time our attack to coincide with the hurricane’s landfall. The rain will be heavy, but not so heavy that we won’t be able to shoot.”





Demon Lance


Havoc Lance


Hawk Lance



Primary Objectives
- Raid the Clan Airfield
- Don’t Be Captured

Secondary Objectives
- Accrue Bounty (0 c-bills / 0 goods)
- - Infantry Units: 50,000 c-bills
- - Light `Mechs: 1,000,000 c-bills
- - Medium `Mechs: 2,000,000 c-bills
- - Heavy `Mechs: 3,000,000 c-bills
- - Assault `Mechs: 4,000,000 c-bills
- - Grounded Aircraft: 250,000 c-bills
- Revenants Unleashed (0)

Expected Resistance
- Armored infantry
- Clan Second-line BattleMechs



Pilot List
Infected
Ardlen
SebMojo
AmyL
LegendairyBovine
El Spamo
Corponation
GhostofJohnMuir
Loxbourne
Vorenus
mcjomar
Tempest_56 (LP Veteran)
Axe-man (LP Veteran)
Pladdicus (LP Veteran)

Alternates
thiswayliesmadness
Beer4TheBeerGod
terrenblade
Coffeehitler
Solis
Cathode Raymond
terrenblade
Ronin Of Dreams