Gods, I hate the rain! I grew up on Jarett in the northern temperate belt, and we got heavy rains there, but nothing like the frog-stranglers we got on Telos IV. I'd been assigned to the Proserpina Hussars right out of the SunTsu Academy, and we got dumped into a garrison detail a few weeks later, We were stationed out of Deiston, a large trading center and spaceport in the heart of the southern farm belt. During the late spring and summer it wasn't too bad, but, as soon as autumn set in, it rained almost every day until spring came again. We learned from the Hussars; who were being rotated out that if you stuck to the roads and the levees between the marshy fields, you'd be able to move freely. If anything other than hovercraft or light, jumpcapable 'Mechs tried to cross the rice and phorail paddies, you stood an even chance of bogging down and having to be towed out. Even considering our proximity to the Fed-Com border, things were pretty quiet. In fact, the biggest problem we had was keeping the mud out of the working parts of our 'Mechs. Sho- sa Nagano kept us out of 'trouble by running exercises and field problems, and pulling inspections. Between the maneuvers and getting our 'Mechs back in shape afterwards, we didn't have much time for shenanigans. Despite the weather, and the sort-of hectic schedule, Telos IV wasn't a bad assignment - until the early morning hours of November 12th. My lance had just stood down from Ready Watch for the day. I was standing in the 'Mech hanger, talking with Bob Heyl, the battalion's mastertech. Heyl was a tall, gangly man who never seemed to sleep. He always seemed to have a spanner in one hand and a full cup of hot coffee in the other. An unlit half-cigar and a perpetual scowl completed his standard kit. That morning, the dour master tech was in an even worse mood than usual. Sho-sa Nagano had ordered him to pull the main actuator packages out of his Warhammer's legs. A misstep during the week's maneuvers dumped the 70-ton machine into an irrigation supply canal. When Nagano-san managed to lever himself out of the muddy water, he found that the silt had gummed something up, reducing his speed to about 20 kph. The job had been long and difficult, complicated by the thick layer of sticky, black mud drying on the 'Hammer's armor. Heyl was liberally smeared with grease, spattered with 'mechdrek, and dusted with dirt chipped from the 'Mech's legs. He was in a thoroughly rotten mood. "Y'know, Taylor, if I had any sense, and a way off this mudball, I'd buy out my contract, move to Irece, and go back to fixing agromechs and skimmersleds," he growled, around the stump of his unlit cigar. "Sure, Bob," I chuckled. "And three months later, you'd be right back in the army, swearing you're going to quit." Heyl was famous for threatening to desert after a particularly long or difficult job. The tech stared blackly at me, making me wonder if my good-natured jibe had gone too far. He opened his mouth to speak, but the public address system drowned out his words. "Attention, all personnel! All personnel report to ready stations. Satscan reports incoming DropShips. This is not a drill. All personnel to ready stations." Heyl spoke three unprintable words and dropped his coffee cup, shattering the ceramic and splashing scalding liquid across the floor. Before the last fragment skittered to a stop, he was pounding across the bay, bellowing at the techs like a Midkiffian sea dragon. I was close on his heels, adding my own voice to the dozens already echoing through the hangar. The scene in the 'mech bay was one of total chaos. Pilots and technicians were scrambling up gantries to unlock and fire up 'Mechs. The deck officer stood in the center of the hanger, talking nonstop into his handset mike, trying to answer everyone's questions at once. Careless of any modesty, I stripped off my coveralls and pulled on my bulky cooling vest, then swung down into the cockpit of my Phoenix Hawk. Sho-sa Nagano's voice was already crackling from the speakers set into my neurohelmet as I pulled the heavy device into place. "Chu-i Ansano, take your armor in a wide circle to the west, in case they try to bypass the city. Chu-i Davis, take your company across the Molaye River and do a recon in force. If you run into heavy resistance, cut the Molaye River Bridge and fall back to map reference 31 - - . We'll meet you there. Flight Officer Okara, be prepared to give us air support if necessary." "Sir," Okara's voice was tinny through the helmet commlink. "The meteorology office reports winds gusting up to 60 kph. It's going to be awfully rough on VTOLs." "Dammit!" The Sho-sa's calm momentarily cracked. "All right, the gunships stay here, but be ready to fly if I need you. That's it. Move out." As I walked my 'mech out of the reinforced ferrocrete hanger, the heavily failing rain drummed against the 'Hawk's armor like small arms fire. I could barely make out the shapes of First Company's 'Mechs ahead of me as they disappeared into the pre-dawn darkness. Moving as quickly as we dared through the rainslicked streets, we hurried through the city, racing the enemy to the Molaye River Bridge. Other vehicles, mostly APC's and light armor- belonging to the planetary militia) scurried here and there, preparing for the enemy's arrival. We'd barely reached Deiston's outskirts when Chui Davis's voice broke from the commlink. "Contact made. Recon lance reports 35 to 40 BattleMechs already across the Molaye River at map reference 37-A5. Molaye River Bridge has not been cut." "Unit designation and composition?- Sho-sa Nagano's voice cut across the babble on the commlink like a laser torch. "Unit unknown, possibly mercenaries, but it isn't in the warbook. Composition's mostly heavies with a few mediums and lights," Davis replied. "Stand by, One ... Omigod! That's a BattleMaster!" "Davis, get out of there! Do not engage. Withdraw and harry their leading units. We'll meet you at MR 34-C9." I broke out in a cold sweat at Davis's report. A BattleMaster. Perhaps the most common of assault 'Mechs, that 85- ton monster massed 15 tons more than Sho-sa Nagano's Warhammer, and carded more firepower than my entire lance. "Silence on the line," the Sho-sa addressed the whole unit. "I know you all heard that. We won't be able to take them in a direct engagement, so we'll have to use what we've got to our advantage. If we can intercept the enemy at the edge of the paddies, perhaps we can lure them into the mud. "Second Company will deploy by lances in a line abreast, ahead of Third Company. Third will form a wedge, with command lance at the point. When we reach the Sobal plantation, form up in a shallow crescent, with overlapping fields of fire. "Chu-i Davis, when you rejoin the battalion, take your company into the woods north of the plantation at MR 35- F10. Wait for my command, then strike into their rear. "if we are unable to stop them there, we will fall back into Deiston and hold the city against them. Remember, you are all samurai, and the Dragon expects that you will do your duty." Sobal's plantation was one of the few large farms around Deiston which raised crops other than the variform rice and the tuberous food plant called phorail. A large portion of its fields were given over to soy and barley, providing relatively dry, solid footing for BattleMechs. According to Nagano-san's orders, we set up in what amounted to two 'mech fire-teams along the edge of a soyabean field, concealed in a line of trees which separated that field from the next. My lance was on the left wing of the crescent, with Fire Lance, Second and Combat Lance, Second arcing in and back to meet the left flank of Third Company, right where the Deiston road cut across the fields. Once the shooting started, Combat, Second and Combat, Third would step out of cover and block the highway. I broke my mediums up into pairs, with my Phoenix Hawk anchoring the extreme left flank. Barely discernable through the winddriven rain was Cathy Mohl's brown and green Shadow Hawk. Teamed with each of us was a MechWarrior recruit. Roy Crawford stood to my right, in a green and grey Wolverine, while Mohl was paired with a Dervish piloted by Jon Masura. As we stood there beneath the dripping trees, I felt cold and damp, as though the driving rain had soaked through my 'Hawk's armored skin. I shivered slightly, in spite of the stuffy, dry heat of the cockpit. Constantly, I scanned the readouts on my 'Mech Status Display, scanners, and transponder grid. My external pickups carried the steady rattle of the rain to my ears. As big and heavy as my Phoenix Hawk was, I could feel it moving as the wind pushed against it and the gyro worked to keep it upright. Suddenly, the tension of anticipation was broken by the crack and thump of gunfire. Through the trees, across the field beyond, I could see a string of light and medium BattleMechs hot-footing it through the remains of last year's bean crop. Every couple of steps, one would stop and snap off a shot or two, presumably at their pursuers. Then the dull, dripping sky would ignite in artificial lightning as a dozen weapons were fired in reply. Red circles began lighting up my transponder grid as the computer's Identify- Friend-and- Foe program translated scanner information to electronic images on the Heads- UpDisplay. Laser and particle beams flared garishly into the misty semidarkness, while autocannon tracers and missile drives drew burning lines across the field. A blue-green stroke of energy knocked one of our recon 'Mechs off its feet, pitching the shattered Wasp face first into the mud. Another bolt of charged particles scorched past the withdrawing 'Mechs. Davis turned his Valkyrie and triggered a flight of long range missiles. Even before his volley struck home, the Valkyrie was running for the relative safety of the trees. -Steady . . . " the Sho-sa's voice sounded in my ears. "Steady. Pick your target." Bringing up my Harron heavy laser, I rested the big rifle- like weapon in the crook of a tree and locked the sights onto a dark splotch which my HUD claimed was a Dragon. Seconds ticked by, as the enemy 'Mechs closed on our position. Soon MAD or IR scans would giveaway our location. The range-finder clicked over to 270 meters. I studded in my 'Hawk's arm- mounted medium lasers, matching their tracking to that of the heavy. "Steady.. . " droned Nagano-san's voice. "Steady. That's it! Fire!" Immediately, every 'mech in our line opened fire. Three gleaming threads of intense light energy leapt from my PHX-I's weapons, causing the internal heat readiness to shoot up more than 10 degrees. Molten fragments of armor were flung away from the Dragon's left torso and both arms as my lasers savaged the 'mech. Two Fed-Com'Mechs had fallen before the combined fire power of our two full companies. Three more were damaged. Heavy return fire blasted into our concealed positions from the 'Mechs in the oncoming unit. A few of our machines were hit, but mostly the incoming rounds only succeeded in blowing trees into splinters. I snapped another trio of laser bolts at the Dragon. Both mediums missed the 60-ton monster, but the 3 megajoule blast from the heavy punched a deep crater in the DRG-IN's right leg. Raising its right arm, my target fired a long, rolling burst from its autocannon, followed by a blast f rom its left arm medium laser. The 60mm shells chopped through the trunk of the tree in which I'd been resting my Harmon, scattering burning splinters for several meters. The laser carved armor from my 'Hawk's torso. The sudden loss of my firing rest caused me to stumble, my 'mech dropping to one knee. Before I could recover my balance, our line was breached. The leading elements of the enemy reached our position. A Wasp and two Stingers, leaping high into the air on their jump-jets, vaulted our line, landing behind our emplacements. A Thunderbolt from the Command lance spun its torso to level a Stinger with a barrage of laser and SRM fire. The fallen enemy's companies struck back, their weapons leaving black scorch marks on the T-bolt's ape-like form. -ore laser fire burned from the heavy 'Mech's torso and arm, turning the Wasp-s armor into hardened steel lace. A short, chopping backhand crushed the remaining Stinger's head. As more enemy 'Mechs closed with us, the firefight degenerated into a brawl. Through breaks in the fighting, I caught glimpses of the savage battle. Taki Black's Marauder cut a Fed-Com Centurion in half with paired particle and laser bolts. A Hunchback in Combat, Second was blasted into smoldering junk by heavy LRM fire from an enemy Crusader. Huge and frightening, the Dragon loomed out of the mist above my crouching Phoenix Hawk, its left fist already swinging. In desperation, I tried to fire my jumpjets, but the enemy's blow sent my 'mech sprawling before I could reach the controls. Near panic, I slammed my hand down on the fire control panel, triggering my entire arsenal. At point blank range, all three lasers and both machine guns blasted the Fed-Com - mech. Scars and gouges appeared in the big machine's legs and torso. Staggered by the impact, the heavy 'mech overbalanced and fell over backwards. The slippery mud proved to be a nearly insurmountable obstacle as I struggled to regain my feet. The Dragon, too, was scrabbling for purchase, its awesome weight working against it in its attempts to rise. Even with that opponent out of the fight, we were still outnumbered and outweighed. At that moment, four huge black shapes appeared out of the rain. Dimly, through the stifling heat of my cockpit, I recognized the distinctive shapes of two Archers, an Orion, and the stocky, dome-headed form of a Battlemaster. As these four monsters waded into the fight, Sho-sa Nagano ordered a withdrawal. Lances, back off and scatter! Meet at the city, and we'll hold them there." Retreat "Alpha Second, form up on me," I called over the commlink. "A-22, aye," Mohl replied. "A-24, roger." That was Masura. "A-23, respond," I ordered. "A-23? Crawford. 'I'm here, boss," Crawford answered. "I took a PPC hit that kind of scrambled my electronics. My tracking system is still on the blink." "Frack! All right, I'll take point. Mohl, rearguard. Crawford and Masura in the middle. Now, let's get the hell out of here." As we formed up to withdraw, the battle continued. Sho-sa Nagano and Tai-i Black, the only survivors of the Command lance, stood side-by-side, pouring particle and laser fire into the enemy ranks. A Firestarter from Combat, Third stayed behind as its mates withdrew, setting the rain-soaked trees ablaze with star- hot plasma, vented directly from its reactor. With luck, the smoke and flame would cover the retreat. Nagano-san's voice roared from the commlink. "Davis! NOW!" From the trees bordering the north edge of the soy field came a firestorm. First Company's surviving 'Mechs laid down a heavy barrage of laser, particle, and missile fire, aimed at the vulnerable rear quarter of the enemy formation. One of the newly arrived Archers stumbled and fell as a flight of missiles slammed into its back. The Orion turned ponderously, its heavy autocannon and shoulder-mounted missile rack spouting flame and high- explosive death. The surviving Archer seemed to catch fire, as 40 4-kilo missiles took wing. Another volley from First Company threw the Fed-Com troops into more confusion, allowing our slower BattleMechs to escape, but the attack cost us dearly. Four out of nine 'Mechs which had survived the harrying race from the Molaye River had been reduced to burning wreckage, their shattered hulks lying half-buried in the rain-softened earth. Leading my lance in a wide circle to the southwest, I led them out of the relatively dry bean and grain fields and into the leveed rice paddies more common to the area around Deiston. Masura's Dervish had taken a couple of severe hits in its left leg, losing its knee actuator. The crippled 'Mech's best speed was under 45 kph. Slow enough to make me worry about a pursuit force catching up with us. Several times, Masura tried to get us to go on without him. "I'm just holding you back, Sergeant," he said, fear plain in his voice. "Go on ahead. I'll stay here and hold them up a bit." Cathy Mohl finally got tired of his heroic urgings, and told him to shut up and march, or she'd grease him herself. When the FedCom mercenaries caught up with us, we'd all have the opportunity to die heroically. That opportunity came all too soon. The weather grew progressively worse, until the rain was sheeting down so hard that my viewscreen was all but useless. Twice Masura's Dervish had fallen, due to the mud, and to the destroyed actuator. It took both Mohl's and my 'Mechs to pull him upright again. Just when it looked like we might have to leave Masura behind, the mercs caught up with us. We'd gotten to within a half klick of the South Road, which led directly into Deiston, when my Magnetic Anomaly Detector buzzed a warning. "Marj, we've got company!Mohl yelled, but any further message was lost in the roar of incoming fire. Spinning around quickly, I nearly lost my footing on the rainslicked ferrocrete of the levee we were crossing. Four BattleMechs closed on us through the torrential rain. In the lead, still bearing the scars of our previous meeting, was the same battered, sag-bellied Dragon. Screaming like a banshee, Cathy Mohl dropped her main gun down across her Shadow Hawk's left shoulder and fired. Instead of the jackhammering roar of an autocannon, the long-nosed weapon spat out a ravening thunderbolt of charged particles. The corporal piloted a DCMS/-2K version of the Shadow Hawk, which replaced the Armstrong autocannon with a Donal PPC. The particle gun surprised the Dragon pilot. As the cyan bolt seared the big 'Mech's torso, large pieces of armor spiralled away in burning chunks. The Dragon faltered and stopped in its tracks. Its three companions kept coming. Crawford's autocannon and my heavy laser joined Mohl's PPC in sowing destruction among the enemy. The lead 'Mech, a 50- ton Hunchback, fired a crashing four-round to shatter armor and cut myomers; in my lance's already battered machines. Crawford fired his jumpjets, landing with a mud-spattering splash in the horail paddy below the dam. Screaming "Come and get me!" the young 'Mechwarrior fired a long burst from his autocannon. The half-human sigh of the Whirlwind's firing was soon lost in the stuttering thunder of the Orion's larger gun. Fountains of mud and uprooted phorail runners showered the W!olverine as hastily aimed 100mm shells exploded in the paddy. Undaunted, Crawford fired again, adding his SRM 6-pack as well. More mud was flunglinto the air, but this time from armor fragments, as the Orion's guns blasted the Wolverine. Laser fire, autocannon shells, and miss;Ies flashed between our embattled machines and those of our enemy. Grudgingly, we were forced to give ground, or be destroyed by the superior firepower of the Fed-Com mercs. Even when Cathy put a lucky PPC bolt into the Dragon's cockpit, sending the big 'mech to the bottom of the river, we got no respite. Another cluster of missiles battered my 'Hawk's flank, and blasted craters in the levee behind me. If something didn't happen soon, my lance would be wiped out. Masura's erratic fire blew a crater in the Rifleman's chest, but not before paired autocannon and laser hits neatly severed the Dervish's already crippled left leg. The green warrior ejected, butwas cut down by shrapnel before he went a hundred meters. Desperately, I wracked my brain for a way to save my unit. Suddenly, it came to me. "Everybody out!" I yelled into the commlink. "Mohl, Crawford, withdraw tot he highway." "But, Sarge, that'll leave them a clear line of march." "Shut up, Cath, and do it!" Jump jets roared as the Wolverine and Shadow Hawk leapt back atop the levee. The ferrocrete trembled as three pairs of steel feet pounded along the dike, racing to gain the highway before the 'mechs they carried were cut down. As soon as I reached the roadway, I spun about and fired, not at the pursuing 'mechs, but at the levee itself. Shards of ferrocrete scattered across the muddy field below. "Marj, what're you--" Cathy began; then, "Right!" Leveling her PPC, Cpl. Mohl sent a glittering charge into the levee. The impact of all that man-made lightning caused deep cracks in the ferrocrete, permitting the waters of the swollen river to jet through. Realizing what was about to happen, the Fed- Com'mechs turned and ran in a desperate attempt to reach safety. They were too late. Under the savage pounding of every gun in my depleted lance, the reinforced ferrocrete levee gave way, almost directly under the Hunchback's feet. The stout machine toppled sideways, disappearing into the raging torrent spouting from the broken dam. Hydraulic pressure from the unleashed river widened the gap in the levee, until the Orion also toppled into the sluicing current. The Rifleman barely reached the safety of an unbroken section of the levee. Once there, it turned and fired its guns in impotent rage, knowing full well that we were out of effective range of even those far-reaching weapons. When the rushing water subsided, all that remained of the Hunchback was a tangle of wrecked systems and twisted metal. The Orion lay where it fell, in meter-deep water, its cockpit stoved in by a chunk of ferrocrete. With no way left to reach our 'Mechs, the Rifleman fired a final, useless volley and retired from the field. The fighting continued all that day and on into the night before the lines stabilized 25 kilometers east of Deiston. In the end, the mud and the rain stopped the Fed-Com advance. Unused to the slippery footing in the paddies, the Fed- Comtroops bogged down trying to cross the fields. Our troops destroyed levees and bridges as they withdrew, slowing the enemy advance even further. At that point, the outcome of the battle (let alone the war) was still anyone's guess. But, I did know one thing for certain. I still hated the rain. Back to BattleTechnology 14 Table of Contents Back to BattleTechnology List of Issues Back to MagWeb Magazine List © Copyright 1990 by Pacific Rim Publishing. This article appears in MagWeb.com (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com