BRAGA
09 April 3068Scales of the Dragonet Mountains, Pearl District
Dieron, Draconis Combine
Felipe peered out at the desert landscape darkening in the dusk as the Swiftram VTOL quietly glided through the air. Such was his look of intensity that it almost seemed that he could will her to suddenly appear. Come on, Desiree. I know you are out there somewhere.
“I have a transponder signal. Its coming from the base of that mesa due east.” Felipe’s heart rose in his chest at the co-pilot’s report. Let it be her, I can’t lose another one. Involuntarily, his mind began to rehash yesterday’s disastrous battle.
“Monk is down. Monk is down.” The report crackled through his comm, as Braga fought with his controls. He didn’t have time or attention to ID the reporter, as he brought his Phoenix Hawk down from its long jump and fired off a shot at a Blakist Thug advancing through the ravine.
Then DJ’s voice came through the comm, laced with anxiety. “It was those damn toads. What the hell are those things?”
“Keep it together, people. We will worry about Monk later. Our job is to get that hover transport to the safety of the dropships behind us. We have to keep those Robes bottled up in this ravine for as long as possible. Hawkeye, I need you to deal with those Elementals.” Taharqa’s voice remained calm despite the overwhelming force arrayed against them.
Felipe did not have the luxury of pointing out to Taharqa that Inner Sphere battle armor were generally not called “Elementals” because at that precise moment a six-man squad of the toads appeared over the rise not 30 meters away. Now he understood DJ’s anxiety. These battle armor had horns, a hunched body, and a face that jutted out, giving them a very bestial appearance. He quickly pivoted his torso and alpha-striked the entire group, feeling the heat spike in his cockpit. His aim was true, however. His PPC incinerated one of the toads, while two of his laser blasts knocked toads off of their feet. The remaining three troopers fired the vicious-looking cannons that made up their right arm, striking his mech across the body and legs. Felipe didn’t wait around for the other two to get back up. He needed to cool down. He fired his jump jets and jumped backwards behind the cover of a large formation.
“We need to break up that c3 network. I am getting pasted over here!” The voice was Blackjack’s. His Gallowglas was stationed in cover on the slope of the mesa above them, but with their C3 network, the Blakists were able to bring devastating fire even from a distance.
“I’m on it.” Sweet’s voice came over the comm. “Circling around behind.”
Desiree’s Spector was outfitted with ECM equipment that could disrupt that C3 network, but the downside was that she had to get close to use it.
He opened his comm. “Negative, Sweet. Pull back. Its too hot in there, we can’t give you backup.” Sweet was his lancemate, and his responsibility.
“Just one more jump and I can pull down their network,” came Sweet’s response.
Felipe was about to order her back in stronger terms, when the remaining toads came back into sight. He blasted them hard with laser fire while jumping to avoid their return fire.
“Sweet, I said pull back, damn it! That is an order.” No response. “Sweet!”
Then Blackjack’s voice interrupted. “Sweet is down. She lost a leg to a Gauss rifle. Got too close to that damn King Crab.”
Felipe’s grip tightened on his controls. Damnit! Then he turned his rage on the devil toads, unleashing a fury of laser and PPC fire that swept the remaining members to hell, or at least he hoped that was where Blakists go when they die.
As the swiftram swept low over the desert, two figures emerged from a rocky crevasse below them and began to wave.
“I have visual,” the pilot said. “Going down.”
As they got closer, Felipe could see that the two figures were Tsepo “Monk” Mbeki and Mckenzie “Hotlips” Bishop. Bishop’s Vindicator had been downed during the Monkey’s withdrawal. He knew he should have been happy to find anyone, but his heart sank to know that Desiree was not with them.
The pair climbed aboard and wetted their parched throats with water. Both of them looked like hell. Bishop was a former model, but she didn’t look it now with grease, sweat, and sand covering her face and tousling her hair. Despite his own frightful appearance, Mbeki seemed unfazed by his experience. That is why they call him Monk.
“Is everyone else accounted for?” Monk asked him.
“Sweet is still MIA.” Pain stabbed at his heart. “DJ and X-Man also got downed, but we were able to extract them in the withdrawal.”
“Did the transport make it?” Monk queried.
Felipe shook his head. “No, but it turns out the VIP wasn’t in the transport after all. He was in the chopper. Apparently the Dracs figured they could sell the decoy better if we weren’t in on the ruse.”
Taharqa had raged when he found out about the Drac’s duplicity, but Monk just nodded thoughtfully. Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by the pilot. “I am reading multiple bogies inbound. It looks like somebody noticed us.”
Felipe looked at Monk. “Give me a survival kit and a transponder and drop me here. I can find Sweet. I know I can. You have to understand, she was an orphan. We are the only family she has ever had.”
Monk gave him a long and thoughtful look. “I am sorry, Felipe, but I can’t do that. You don’t even know she is out there. You haven’t gotten a transponder signal which means she is probably in Blakist hands already. The only thing you would likely accomplish is getting yourself killed or captured.” He turned to the pilot. “Head back to base.”
Then he turned back to Felipe with a solemn look. “I promise you, Felipe. We fill find her. As Taharqa says, we are kindraa, and we take care of our own. Sweet will come home.”