TEXT: BattleCorps
  HUNTER OR 
  HUNTED
  Randall N. Bills
  Chapter Five
  
  BattleCorps
  Hunter or Hunted: Chapter 5 • Page 
  Archon Katrina Steiner Memorial Park 
  New Freedom, Lyons 
  Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance 
  11 February, 3063
  J’s voice filled with the weariness he knew the entire company 
  felt—probably his entire battalion if not the whole of the Lyons 
  Freedom Theater Militia at this point. “Kev, I’m not sure we can 
  hold again.”
  Kevin took a long swig from his canteen, then dumped the rest 
  over his head; the tepid liquid felt like the coolest glacier water 
  after the days spent in a burning-hot cockpit. Using his right hand 
  to squeeze the excess off his face, he took a deep breath and an-
  swered. ”Do we have a choice? I hate that we’ve been harried all 
  the way to the city as much as you, but here we have to stand.”
  “Why here? Why do you think they’ll push through this area?”
  “Because we’re here. The Cats may be changing but they’re still 
  Clan enough to dislike the fact we managed to pull our hides out 
  every time they almost pinned us down. That’s got to burn.”
  “So you’re basing our plan of defense off of what you think they’ll 
  do? I was hoping for something a little more there, Kev.”
  “Hey, know your enemy and all that, right?”
  “Sure, but you said yourself the Cats are changing. Can we really 
  trust them?”
  “Of course not, but I’ve trusted my gut for a long time and it’s 
  usually right. Not to mention I’ve not been wrong about them yet, 
  right?”
  “Yeah, I guess so. I’m just glad the rest of the battalion is cover-
  ing our flanks.”
  “Yeah, me too. There are other Cats out there and if they come at 
  us at once, this could hurt. Bad.”
  “Well, we’d better mount up again. Last report had them a lot 
  closer than I feel comfortable about outside my ’Mech.” Kevin 
  couldn’t help the laughter.
  
  BattleCorps
  Hunter or Hunted: Chapter 5 • Page 
  As they retraced their steps to their current staging area, the 
  abrupt sound of thunder cascaded over them, bouncing and echo-
  ing off the walls of the buildings surrounding the park, stunning 
  them both into motionlessness before they sprinted the final half-
  hundred meters.
  “What’s going on,” Kevin yelled as he skidded through the gravel 
  to a stop next to his XO. 
  Shacking his head for a moment, he continued to monitor the 
  commline he was listening to. After several more moments he 
  pulled one earpiece away and yelled over the continual thunder.” 
  Looks like Second Company’s sentries spotted some advance Cat 
  elements. Called in an artillery barrage.” 
  Kevin and J exchanged sheepish glances at not recognizing their 
  own artillery. Must be more tired than we thought.
  Held well back in the center of the city, the Militia’s artillery bat-
  tery was made up mostly of centuries’ old Snipers, which meant 
  the enemy, or at the least its leading elements, was less than six 
  kilometers away. Suddenly J’s comments about being vulnerable 
  seemed very real.
  The screaming turbines and soft thumping of multiple blades 
  announced the fly over of a lance of four Sprint Scout Helicopters, 
  racing off in the direction of the target of the artillery barrage. 
  Though only a moment before he’d felt vulnerable, that feeling 
  vanished watching the pilots of the FTM’s Armor Brigade heading 
  out boldly to face the enemy. Even the smallest weapon mounted 
  by a BattleMech could strike a helicopter from the sky like a hu-
  man swatting a bothersome mosquito. More, the Sprints did not 
  carry a single weapon. Instead, it mounted Targeting Acquisition 
  Gear, which it used to paint the lead elements for further artillery 
  strikes. At least in combat he had the culmination of millennia of 
  warfare wrapping him in offensive and defensive protection. He 
  paused for a moment to give his fellow soldiers a solute and no-
  ticed several others tossing off solutes as well. 
  Good luck.
  “Mount up people,” he yelled as he moved towards his Uziel. 
  “Looks like they’re about ready to fall on us.” As he drew near his 
  ’Mech, he couldn’t help the almost painful sensation that clenched 
  his gut upon seeing the patchwork of armor that crisscrossed his 
  ’Mech, not to mention the pock marked and burnt armor not yet 
  fully repaired or replaced in other sections. It may not have been 
  
  BattleCorps
  Hunter or Hunted: Chapter 5 • Page 
  in his family for decades or centuries like some, but it was still his 
  ’Mech. More, being assigned to a Theater Militia did not exactly 
  guarantee you the latest tech or ’Mechs walking off the assem-
  bly line. That made his Uziel all the more special to him, since 
  it was still new enough to have armor plating that had been in-
  stalled on the factory floor. To see it so damaged pulled at him. 
  Any MechWarrior—even the meanest pirate with no regard for hu-
  man life—always held a special affinity for the mount he rode into 
  battle and to see it abused never sat right. Now, with combat only 
  minutes away, he would wade in and his Uziel would have fresh 
  scars across its pristine hide before the sun set. Shacking the mor-
  bid thoughts aside, he reached the ’Mech’s legs and prepared to 
  do his duty.
   Before he’d sidled half way up the chain latter, through the 
  continued cacophony of the artillery barrage, a new sound in-
  truded—multiple missile launches. Glancing up, he could see the 
  contrails of eight Arrow IV artillery missiles arcing overhead from 
  the direction of the artillery battery’s four Demolisher (Arrow IV 
  Variant) vehicles. He was not the only one to notice and a chorus 
  of cheers went up as the men and women of his command hung 
  suspended from their ’Mech’s ladders and pumped arms in the air. 
  If the Arrow IV’s had been launched, at least one of the helicopters 
  had survived initial contact and successfully painted targets. Even 
  from this distance, the look on their faces showed this was the 
  exact boost to morale his people needed. 
  Nevertheless, as they began to shimmy the final lengths up to 
  their respective cockpits, Kevin also knew that for those artillery 
  to launch, the Cats had to be less than three kilometers away. The 
  final battle was at hand.
  
  BattleCorps
  Hunter or Hunted: Chapter 5 • Page 5
  12 February, 3063
  The cerulean beam of twisting energy slammed into the ground 
  at Caden’s feet, paving a steaming trench in the ferrocrete between 
  his Mad Dog’s legs. Instinctively, his hand clenched convulsively 
  on his right-hand joystick, sending forty long-range missiles on 
  tails of fire towards his elusive target. He then immediately side 
  stepped to the right and slipped into an alley. As it was not de-
  signed for BattleMech traffic, each step of the Mad Dog’s clawed 
  feet tore huge furrows into the ferroconcrete; his fifth step punched 
  through to a water main, shattering the piping and spewing water 
  in every direction.
  Quickly checking his secondary screen, he found that either 
  he’d eluded the ’Mech, or it elected not to follow; knowing these 
  MechWarriors, he was confident it was the later. Finishing his 
  treacherous run through the enclosed confines of the buildings, 
  he exploded out onto a new avenue, right into the middle of a hell-
  ish brawl.
  Streams of depleted uranium rounds; mega-kilojoules of co-
  herent beams; nickel-ferrous basket-ball sized super-sonic gauss 
  rounds; showers of short and long range missiles; writhing ten-
  drils of particle projector cannon beams—the air was covered like 
  a giant spider’s web of deadly energy and ordinance that almost 
  blocked the sun from reaching the ground: he was truck from sev-
  eral sides at once.
  The shocks of the impact slammed him in several directions. The 
  whine of the ’Mech’s gyro began to crescendo and spiked into the 
  inaudible range, meaning he’d already lost his battle with grav-
  ity; the Mad Dog splayed onto the ground, the momentum of its 
  advance sliding it across the street, smashing through a civilian 
  hovercar, taking out a fire hydrant and coming to a final rest with 
  all by the bottom of the ’Mech’s feet slid into the conjoining alley 
  on the other side. 
  He glanced towards his damage schematic screen, immediately 
  noticing how much damage the shots, along with the fall, accom-
  plished. Though furious for falling—no MechWarrior of any ability 
  can easily stomach the disgrace of losing his feet—the damage 
  schematic was plain to read; if he’d stayed on his feet in the street, 
  enemy and friendly fire would likely have penetrated armor in mul-
  tiple locations. After the brutal fighting of the last hours, his armor 
  was paper-thin in areas and his ammunition reserves were almost 
  depleted. Standing in such a maelstrom would’ve meant death.
  
  BattleCorps
  Hunter or Hunted: Chapter 5 • Page 
  Shaking his head to clear the worst of the effects of the fall away, 
  he swallowed back his own anger and slowly brought the machine 
  back to its feet. Perhaps it was time to finally pull back. After all, 
  though he’d relished pushing these inferior warriors before him—
  he grudgingly admitted that some of them showed above average 
  skill—they were not here to take the world. They were only here to 
  test these warriors and their defenses. Well, he’d tested them and 
  found them wanting.
  Continuing on towards the end of the next alley, he brought up 
  his right arm to severe through multiple cables from which what 
  appeared to be clothing hung; he shook his head at such unclean-
  ness. A bit more cautious this time, Caden slowly maneuvered 
  (hated that his sensors were damaged almost beyond repair at 
  this point) into the street. Finding no enemies, he quickly turned 
  right and pushed the throttle forward, gaining speed as he sped 
  towards the last known location of his star mates.
  After passing three crossroads, he turned right again, picked up 
  additional speed and opened a commline. “Jesika, where are you 
  located?”
  A few tense seconds passed before a response came through. 
  “Star Commander, I believe I can see you advancing towards our 
  position even now. We have managed to pin down several ’Mech’s 
  and are in the process of bringing them down. Your assistance 
  would be most appreciated.”
  “Neg Jesika,” he said, regret lacing his words. He slowed his 
  machine as he came upon the road so recently almost his burial 
  ground, slid up to the corner, swung around and launched another 
  brace of missiles.
  “It is time to admit we have long ago accomplished our mission 
  and at this point are simply playing cat to the mouse. I know our 
  ammunition reserves are low and if my armor is thin, then most of 
  your armor is non-existent.” He stopped speaking for a moment 
  as an enemy Dervish popped up from behind its cover to launch 
  its own missile racks. Caden calmly lined up a shot from both his 
  large pulse lasers and let fly, cleanly decapitating the enemy ma-
  chine. 
  With the satisfaction of a job more than well done, he opened up 
  a general combat frequency. “All units, we are pulling back to sec-
  tor 27B. Pull back and rendezvous at sector 27B in preparation for 
  rendezvous with our DropShips. Our job here is done and I doubt 
  these whipped MechWarriors will give us much of a chase.”
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/BattleTech [multi]/EXTRA/Novels/Battlecorps Novels/Hunter or Hunted Pt 06 - Randall N. Bills.pdf