"Speak to me Windmill!" Davey yelled into his headset microphone, trying desperately to be heard over the wailing klaxon noise that bounced around the factory walls, hurdling ammo crates and kicking past discarded hatoride canisters as he raced towards the 'Fenris', the way made more hazardous by the flashing amber warning lights casting strange light and shadow over the already gloomy and cluttered interior.
"~Lieutenant Mac!~" came the excited voice back over his speakers, "~Multiple contacts, five clicks South East! One of the Exiles spotted them! Big Ones! The sentries are too light to engage mechs that big!~"
Mac whumphed in pain as he tried to skid to a halt on the oil slicked concrete, barking his shins on the bottom rung of the ladder leading up to cockpit of his mech.
"~Say again El Tee?~" queried Pio over the commlink.
"Tell them to hold back and track, Pio. We'll be there as soon as we can. Only engage if they start straying too close to the base," he gasped as he flung himself into the pilot's chair, one hand reaching for the five point crash harness while the other flicked switches, bringing the heavy mech online. "I need to lose some weight," he wheezed to himself, forcing his breathing back under control, hurriedly going through the bare minimum of preliminary checks.
Sickly green from the freshly awakened heads up display mingled with the exterior amber to give the surrounds an other worldly quality, while individual console tell-tales added their own color to the immediate area. Mac hammered on the side of the second freshly installed Nux Raid array, cursing it into fitful life even as he took his first tentative steps, swinging the Orrester out past the service gantries and accelerating towards the hole in the wall that was the main egress from the complex.
Glancing towards the external camera viewscreen he noted a number of other mechs moving out of their bays behind him; a pair of Hoplites, a Holmes, what looked like one of the Trav's in a Nifthel sporting Heroes colors. As he pushed his mech out from under the tarpaulin that protected the building's interior from the outside elements, he spotted a trio of bright blue painted Ogguns pulling into formation to his left in the personal colors of Chaotic Pain.
Clear of the building and its interference, his targeting array was now able to resolve properly on the surrounding area. Sure enough, there was the Exile formation, what looked like a Warhorse and a pair of Red Ants pinpointed in the green of 'friendlies' on the main Nux screen. Looming before them, the ominous crimson of hostile mechs. Ancillary readouts categorized them as super heavies. Bad News.
"~Blue Home to all units! The Exiles have been spotted, hostiles are shaking out into battle formation... they are headed this way!~"
The airwaves were full with pilots confirming the update, shouted instructions staying just the right side of panic.
The secondary Nux had still not come online. Piloting one handed, Mac pounded on the top with his clenched fist, snarling in the hope that the added vibration would somehow make whatever loose connection good, at least as long as he needed it for. Against super heavies, he wanted every advantage he could get, and the possibility of a precise hit aided by the targeting array may be the only way he was going to dent one of those beasts, let alone put it down.
Suddenly the screen flared into life, fuzzed once more, then settled as it downloaded and categorized the data from the external sensors. A cry of jubilation was short-lived however, as the system was still faulting, the readings and tell-tales failing to match with the data on the number one screen. The super heavies were green, the Exile squadron red, as were the rest of the faction... except...
Mac cross checked the two screens, thinking frantically. On both arrays, the Heroes mecha were showing as green for friendly. Only the other units, both faction and the unknown intruders had their colours reversed. The only way that could happen was if it wasn't recognizing the newly uploaded transponder codes since the faction had been formed, in which case...
"Delta Mike Charlie to all Heroes units in the vicinity, report!" he called, switching his commlink systems quickly to the general broadcast frequency.
"~Delta Mike Charlie, this is Tango Romeo Four, am coming up on your six~"
"~Sierra Whiskey, clearing the barn~".
"~Delta Romeo Two, ETA to position on your right flank is one - five seconds. Whats up chief?~", the response from Trav 2 was scratchy with static. Mac twitched the corner of his lip irritably at the query. If his hunch was right, it would become apparent very quickly.
"~Uh... Delta Mike Charlie from Charlie Gamma One, issat you Davey?~" a slurred voice came over the speakers.
Recognition of the voice caused Mac's jaw to hang slack in wonder for a few seconds before he replied with an incredulous tone, "Big Col, is that you?" Subconsciously he eased off on the throttle yoke, bringing the big mech down to a walk from its headlong intercept run.
"~Whatcha doin' here Davey?~" came back the heavy tired voice, "~Lotsa bugs here... big nest of 'em close by. Just gonna step on some ants...~"
"Negative, Col, power down your weapons!" Mac spat hurriedly into the microphone. "I repeat, power down your weapons, those are friendly units!"
There was a pregnant pause, then "~OK, Davey, if you're sure... powering down. They lookin' angry though....~"
"Copy Big Col, I'm on it, stand by..." he responded, then quickly flicked channels on his comm gear.
"Blue Home from Delta Mike Charlie, relay to all units! Windmill, get them to stand down, the Super Heavies are friendly, again I confirm, the Heavies are ours." Breath whooshed from him as the adrenaline build up from the near combat was released. As an afterthought he added, "Oh, and please send my apologies for the misunderstanding to those Exiles pilots, along with some reasonable changes of undergarments."
"~Blue Home copies, lieutenant. I think the commander will want a word when you are free...~"
I bet he will, and he can just wait in line, thought Mac as he flicked back through the comm channels. "Col, aren't you supposed to be with the Legion?" he asked once he was back on the correct frequency.
"~Um, thought Legion was this way, tha's wha' the boss said. Musta got lost... been awake for, um, four days now. Coffee ran out five days ago, been out of bacon for a week. Need a bacon sammich real bad, Davey....~" the pilots voice trailed off.
"I read you Col, will see what I can do. Just let me get you clearance to come in. I'll be in touch." Mac smirked a little as he once again swapped comm frequency, this time to the secure command channel he had been given clearance for that was reserved for the senior lance pilots of the faction.
"Commander Chaos.. I mean, Chaotic Pain, this is Lieutenant Mac calling. I would strongly advise that you extend the hanger facilities as soon as is practicable. You were wanting some heavy support, and there is a gentleman out here who would gladly trade about two and a half kilotons of it... as long as you can provide him with a bacon sandwich that is..."
Submitted by David McCallum id # 701548