Star Adder Campaign #1: Descent

After each scenario or bi-weekly game, Bruce and I have taken to writing up fictionalized accounts of what happened in the game.  Some players refer to these as after action reports, and some of the ones I have read in the past read like an AAR.  Some of them are well written, introduce interesting characters, and expand on the story of what is happening.  I hope mine fall into the latter category. 

Book 1: Hell
Prologue - Descent

Arcadia

June 14, 2821.  0925 hours (local time)

“Peel them off and put them back in orbit until we have a safe LZ to bring them down in.”  Khan Absalom Truscott watched as his auxiliary fleet of Union class spherical drops ships broke away from the rest of the invasion fleet and made for the safety of the warship’s shadow.  They would have to get by without extra rations, parts, ammo, and bunks until the beachhead was established.  By his time table, they should have control of the area known as the Aschel Plateau in 4 hours, or at least they would have if the accursed Ghost Bear khans had done what they were ordered to do.

  “Insubordinate, foul-tempered, sniveling...” Truscott ran his fingers through his thinning grey hair and slapped his palms down against the edge of the holo-tank.  He watched as swarms of enemy fighters circled his descending force, darting in to take the occasional shot against one of the dropships that were near defenseless as the dropped through the atmosphere.  The aerospace fighters were outnumbered nearly 5 to 1, they more than had their hands full.  His pilots were the cream of the crop though, those who had excelled in Keresnky’s inspired vision of the way to find and breed the best warriors possible.

His ruminations were interrupted by a thought as he watched the intricate dance of the deadly birds of prey that spat coherent beams of laser light and clawed with explosive auto-cannon shells and missiles.  “There,” he said pointing to the left side of the battle as an explosion rocked his drop ship.  “Do you see what I’m talking about Irons?”

“Aye, sir,” Danielle Irons replied with a snap that was implied if not actual. Her small slim frame was taut with nerves that had been honed to a fine edge in years of training and combat.  Her skill was as great as that of any pilot in the air beyond their walled command center, but she was of even greater use here.  Her keen eye had seen that there were obviously two forces and that they were not coordinated, indeed they stayed well away from each other showing two distinct fronts, a fatal flaw in an air battle that was constantly moving.  “Iron 4, this is Iron actual.  Turn your units to engage the western flank.  They are close to breaking.”

No sooner had she broken the connection than the icons representing the 8 fighters of the 12^th Aerial Quasar, Iron’s Will had turned and were now engaging the weaker force.  In 30 seconds it was all over.  The western flank had broken, 2 of the 12 lights going out to indicate units that had been obliterated in the sky, 6 others flashing red or yellow to indicate the rapacious damage her pilots had done.  Two of their own , a pair of Hammerheads that had played bait to pull the opposition off-heading, were blinking yellow as well.  Truscott noted that even as they pulled away they turned hard over and 2 more opposition aircraft began to glow: one red, one yellow.  He knew the two Hammerheads would need to pull out of combat.  They had flown right through the midst of the enemy formation twice and had paid the price.  Even as he heard his CAG telling the two to return to the The Vision, the enemy force broke and scattered like so many geese startled by a flushing dog.  He could almost feel the impact of the kicking shotgun from his youth as the birds rose to the sky to escape the barking intruder that had disturbed their morning feeding.  Right on cue, another light indicating an enemy fighter went dark.

He nodded to Star Captin Irons, and she accepted his acknowledgement with one of her own.  “Fifteen seconds to ground,” came the metallic voice warning of the landing as the ship bucked against gravity and fired its ion thrusters to slow the descent to something they could all survive. 

“Sir, with the loss of the Hammerheads, and the Chippewa’s ammo running low,” Danielle Irons began.

“Understood,” Truscott replied in the clipped tone he naturally fell into during combat operations.  “We have prepared for this.  Good luck, captain.  Give them Kerensky’s own justice.”   Her heels clicked together and she turned and headed for the door; stopping just long enough to grab a stabilizing rail as the ship touched down hard on the badlands of the Aschel Plateau. 

“Tell Star Captain Talasko I want his unit out the door as soon as it is open.”

“Aye, sir,” saKhan Devon Lefavre replied, and relayed the command to the ‘mech bay where the five Battlemechs that represented the 17^th Cavalier stood poised for combat.