“Woah, easy there,” Eric leaned back and raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture. “I just wanted you to know that he doesn’t get killed.. “
“Spoilers Eric,” Kev put in mildly while Stan shook his head in irritation.
“I know that you goober,” muttered Stan. “He’s sitting in front of us telling the story!”
“Hey, don’t mind me,” shrugged Eric, hands still raised. “Just you were looking all engrossed and worried and besides, you were about to burn the steaks…”
“Good catch then youngster,” nodded Gampy Bob. “Best get ‘em served. Anyone need another beer?”
Cans and slightly charred meat were passed around the group and silence descended on the night, punctuated only by the crackle of the campfire, a slight breeze rustling through the surrounding undergrowth and the slurp and chomp of pilots enjoying some down time. And a few other noises that only a group of males would find remotely comical.
Licking grease from his fingers and letting out a loud belch, Mike broke the quiet to get back to the tale at hand. “So where were we?” he asked.
Kev counted off on his fingers, grinning as he looked over at Mac. “Second faction war, we were surrounded, you went off on a glory run across the bridge and got your sorry backside caught out of formation,” he summed up.
+ + + + +
An array of mechs arose from their concealment around the stockyard and locked on to the Heroes machines with their targeting systems. Threat alarms squealed in every cockpit, readouts indicating that the enemy outnumbered them almost three to one and out massed them by a factor of four.
Caught in the open with their opponent in good cover, the situation could not have looked worse and the Heroes squadron momentarily froze.
The air was rent asunder by the roar of a loud hailer system.
“POWER DOWN YOUR MECHS AND SURRENDER!” came the blared instruction.
Seconds ticked by, the tableau frozen. No incoming fire. The War God’s Hammer was raised, but had yet to fall.
Mac silenced the cockpit alarms, his face still awash with crimson and amber strobing lights from the threat detection systems. Tentatively he flick the switch to engage his own external audio systems.
“This is Lieutenant Davey Mac of the Smurf Brigade,” he began. “And I have the pleasure of addressing…?” his voice raised in inquiry.
“WE ARE MYTH! WE ARE LEGEND! WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED! IT IS IN YOUR BEST INTEREST TO ACCEDE TO OUR DEMANDS!”
Mac’s mind was racing. He needed to keep his crews under control until either the firing started or the situation became clearer. He needed his voice systems clear to keep the enemy talking, that much was certain. A quick glance at the readouts showed most of the squad icons were still amber, denoting a damaged but operable mech. Ypres’ icon flicked to green as its repair systems completed their tasks and shut off.
He pulled up ‘EnTwit’, the encrypted text only communication system on his wrist unit and quickly flashed a message off.
++BOSSMAN : @3vry1 #keepcalm
Responses came back almost instantly.
++OGGY3 : @3vry1 WE ALL DED #pwned #notgood
++SPIDEY : @3vry1 #omg
++NUKEM : @oggy3 NEED NEW PANTS!!! #kingkongsfinger
“YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT!” blasted the voice.
“Oh, my apologies. I was politely waiting for you to give us our other options.” Mac tried his best to portray innocent deference; a difficult feat when using a tannoy system.
“YOUR ONLY OTHER OPTION IS TO DIE!”
“You’re certainly having the best of the argument so far,” responded Mac after a pause. “But what happens to us if we surrender?”
Mac frantically typed, trying to keep a lid on the situation…
++BOSSMAN : @3vry1 stay calm no sudden moves don’t provoke, and we get out of this.
“YOU WILL BE TREATED FAIRLY. WE NOTE FROM YOUR MARKINGS YOU ARE OF THE HEROES CLAN. KNOW THIS, THAT HEROES DIE IN BATTLE EVERY DAY AND ARE FORGOTTEN. UNSUNG. BUT YOU WILL BE GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY TO JOIN WITH US. YOU WILL BECOME MYTH! YOU WILL BECOME LEGEND! YOU WILL BECOME IMMORTAL!!” the responding voice rose into a manic screech at the end.
Mac licked his lips, wondering how long he could stall for. A quick glance showed that the only icons still showing as amber for repairing were the Ogguns Xenon and Zen.
“I see,” he mused conversationally. “So you’ve sent your… ‘Immortals’ against us. It’s funny you know, I always pictured my way to immortality was by simply… not dying.”
The voice roared back, “THAT IS AN OPTION THAT IS FAST DISAPPEARING FOR YOU, LITTLE HERO!!! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND YOU ARE A DYING BREED? YOUR CLAN IS GONE! OPPOSING FORCES HAVE SMASHED THE SMURF LEGION AND THE LIST OF DEAD HAS BEEN PUBLISHED… FULLER, DEAD! CHIN, DEAD! TOEJNES, RETHERFORD, A MALE AND FEMALE, ALL DEAD! FUGATE, DEAD! THEIR BODIES NOW ROT TO FEED CROWS AND SOON THEIR REMAINS AND NAMES WILL BE BUT DUST…” the voice had trailed off, savoring the scene it set with a malicious intensity.
As the words dying echoes bounced across the stockyard, Mac thought he could hear another sound, further off but moving closer. Gunfire and explosions, the sound of the Brigade assault.
Not close enough.
++BOSSMAN : @3vry1 No targeting. Fire from the hip. Its been a blast. #sorry.
He smiled wistfully as he hit send then gathered himself as he thumbed the button for his external vox.
“Ah well, I guess we had a good run with the Heroes, but all good things come to an end…..”
…and with that, Mac pressed hard on his firing stud, and the Wellington stitched Hex Cannon fire across the hull of an enemy Bishop, stray rounds ripping into the mech behind it. Less than a heartbeat later, the other Heroes pilots had let loose and the Myth and Legend machines staggered under the impact, then fiercely returned fire as the Hammer of the War God dropped in that enclosed yard.
“Fighting retreat! Back to the bridge!” Mac yelled, not bothering to flick back from external speakers to standard comm channels.
His units were lighter and faster and first kill went to Xenon as an overcharged Injection Beam finished off the already damaged Bishop. Its victory was short lived though, for it had taken no more than three steps backwards when fire washed over it and its ammunition hoppers cooked off leaving it a blazing wreck in the middle of the yard.
The Inferno that was its executioner tried to breach the line by hurdling the conflagration only to be caught mid-air by a rail canon from the Urachnia, its left leg coming away at the hip as both parts of the mech crashed down to cartwheel across the compacted dirt.
The Heroes skirmish line gave as good as it got, but they were too far into the yard and one by one, both remaining Ogguns and the Fides were torn apart although not without taking an equal number of the enemy with them.
Step by step the remaining Heroes retreated, their field of fire now clear as they cycled their weapons to full speed and let Hell rain down on the Myth and Legend forces that now outnumbered them four to one.
Ionion was trading blows with an enemy Nakshi when a Galaxy Eye found her reactor plant and she sagged, all power offline. Three more of the opposition were torn apart before the Ypres crumpled under a weight of fire its nanobots couldn’t hope to keep up with.
Now three against fifteen, the survivors had reached the security checkpoint and maneuvered for cover. The least well protected, the Dreadnought ‘Kingpin’ ducked through the gap first followed within seconds by Mac in the Antithesis ‘Wellington’ as the heavily armored Ammonite ‘Nemesis’ bought them time with its covering fire.
But no amount of armor could withstand the onslaught that the Myth and Legend pilots poured out. Her left side ablaze, she buckled as a high caliber shell wrecked a knee joint. Still spitting defiance, Nemesis finally succumbed to a missile salvo from an opposing Torrent.
And then there were two.
Sensing victory, the Warleader of the Myth and Legends faction urged his cohorts forward and for a brief second, no fire crossed between the two sides. The remaining Heroes reversed from their vantage point between the security booths, and slowly backed onto the pass way.
And the War God laughed, for his all seeing eye could foresee the mistake, and he tipped his hat to the pair that waited patiently, never interrupting an enemy that was making that mistake, the pair that prepared to dance the Minuet of Death in the Court of the God of War.
The Kingpin stopped first, presenting itself as the nearest threat while Wellington backed a few paces more. To the uneducated, they had given up their only advantage and now stood in death ground, outnumbered, outgunned and outmatched. But the cover they had ceded to the enemy now served a different purpose as it funneled the attackers down to two cramped avenues in which they could neither bring weight of numbers to bear nor dodge incoming fire.
And so the dance began. Although less heavily shielded, Kingpin was the lighter and faster of the pair and it had once been Mac’s personal mount. Its base programming held true and it weaved and bobbed, minute movement turning a full on impact into a glancing blow that sparked from its armor. Where the odd blow caught it true, the repair systems kicked in to action to keep it in the fight for precious seconds longer. The enemy did its best to concentrate their fire on it, to take it out of action so they could turn their attention to the Wellington, but tenaciously, infuriatingly, the Kingpin danced on.
Like a drummer beating time to the dance, Wellington laid down a percussion of fire into the gap between the security booths. Wrecker Shot and Hex Canon beat into the oncoming mecha and punched through into those following. One by one, the numbers dwindled.
Seconds stretched to subjective eternity and the dance went on, Kingpin mesmerizing, tantalizing and goading the opposition to commit just one more mech to partner it in the dance.
Only at the end did the war leader recognize his mistake when his lone Regis stood facing the Heroes pair, then Kingpin brought the dance to close by blowing him away. The dancers stood alone.
The eerie calm was shattered by cockpit proximity alarms sounding off for a second time. Wearily Mac turned the audio off and check his screens. Across the expense of the stockyard, motion sensors had detected enemy reinforcements. Another twenty five, nothing under seventy tons. His own reserves were yet to start crossing the span behind him, and he needed the fight to take place on solid ground else it would collapse under their weight.
Sighing in resignation, he started the ‘Thesis forward to take position at the security booths once more, clambering over the wreckage of the last battle. Kingpin followed suit, and the pair awaited their fate.
Cautiously the Myth and Legend newcomers picked their way through the alleyways and around containers until the two opposing forces had line of site. Still nobody fired, but cockpit telltales on both sides were indicating multiple tracking and weapon locks. This was only going to be short and not so sweet.
“OOGA-CHAKA OOGA OOGA OOGA-CHAKA OOGA OOGA…” blared the war chant across the clearing.
But it was not born of Myth or Legend…
Mac watched slack jawed as from the right of his screen, friendly icons blinked into life as a squadron of heavy mechs rose from their own concealment, using the ferrous structures and vehicles to mask their own signatures in exactly the way the enemy had first caught him off guard. The lead Aspis lowered its tri-horned head and skewered an enemy Jottun with laser fire.
The Myth and Legend forces tried to wheel about but the Aspis drove forward, flanked by two dozen companions. Caught from the side as they were, their formation was no longer sensible or complimentary and their mechs went down in droves under the coordinated and ferocious fire from an unexpected quarter. The skirmish quickly turned into a rout and the newcomers came to a halt in the center of the stockyard, weapons beginning to plink as they cooled but staying alert for fresh targets.
Finally remembering to switch from external speaker back to radio comms, Mac keyed his microphone.
“Kev. Nice of you to finally join in.”
+ + + + +
Kev frowned as he interrupted the story. “Now, y’see, this is the part I never understand. How is it my fault that you got yourself ambushed, shot up and needed somebody to bail your ass out, Hmm?”
Mac regarded him coolly across the campfire and began to count off on his fingers. “One, you had the option of telling the story, which gives me two, poetic license…”
He had already counted the third finger when his wrist comm buzzed in interruption.
++Sorry suger-pie++ drawled Dolly, his A.I., ++but ah’ve got the Colonel tryin’ to get hold of y’all++
“Tell him to leave a message,” growled Mac. “Or to go boil his bum. Or both. I don’t give a monkeys either way.”
Getting over the interruption, he went back to counting the third finger. “Three, I’m almost certain it was your idea to sneak up on them while I was busy getting shot at, rather than you charging heroically to the rescue, which as an aside appears to be your preferred version of events. That leads on to four…”
Dolly chimed in again, earning a scowl from Mac.
++Honey, ah really am sorry ‘bout this, but it’s the General this time. Sure seems they’re needing to talk with y’all.++
The clearing went silent at the A.I.s mention of General Fuller. Mac looked uncomfortable as he responded, “Uh, tell him I’m taking a leak then patch the call through to the cockpit of the ‘October’. I’ll take it there.” He rose to his feet and nodded to the others and moved around the fire in the direction of his mech.
“Hey Mac,” called Kev to his receding back, “just remember you haven’t seen us out here, yeah?”
Mac paused and glanced back. “Was that just a general comment, or were you looking to coach my Grandmother in the inter-galactic egg sucking Olympics?” he shot back sarcastically, then stalked off into the jungle.
To be continued…
David McCallum# 701548