The canyon walls rose sharply on either side of Jackie Stewart’s Sherman, casting long shadows over the narrow pass. The rumble of the convoy’s destruction still echoed in her mind, but now her focus was razor-sharp. Ahead, the advance squad of her attack force moved cautiously through the jagged terrain. Goblins darted between rocks, their compact frames blending with the rugged landscape, while the Grants lumbered behind, their weapons trained on the cliffs above.
Jackie’s Sherman trudged forward, its powerful legs crushing loose stones underfoot. The HUD was alive with telemetry, her sensors sweeping for enemy signatures. The terrain was perfect for an ambush—tight quarters, limited visibility, and plenty of elevated positions for the enemy to exploit. She didn’t trust the silence.
“Hold position,” Jackie ordered, her voice calm but firm. “Goblins, fan out and scan the ridges. Grants, keep your weapons hot. This canyon stinks of trouble.”
Jamerson's voice crackled over the comms. “Roger that, Sergeant. Scanning now.”
Jackie leaned forward in her seat, her eyes flicking between the HUD and the jagged cliffs. The tension in the air was palpable, a quiet dread that prickled at the back of her neck.
The ambush came with brutal precision. A sudden volley of missiles screamed down from the ridges, the explosions shaking the ground and kicking up clouds of dirt and debris. One of the Goblins vanished in the blast, its frame shattered by the force of the impact.
“Contact!” Torres shouted over the comms. “We’re under fire! Hostiles on the ridges—six, no, eight mechs! Heavy units!”
Jackie’s HUD lit up with enemy markers, each one moving into position along the high ground. Her sensors identified the attackers: a mix of Manglers and Reapers, their brutish forms outlined in stark red.
“Return fire!” Jackie barked. “Grants, suppress the ridges! Goblins, hit their flanks! Keep moving—they’ve got the advantage up there.”
Her Sherman turned toward the ridges, its shoulder-mounted autocannons roaring to life. The heavy slugs tore into the rock face, forcing one of the Manglers to retreat behind cover. Jackie followed up with a burst from her lasers, carving a glowing scar across the enemy’s thick armor.
Below, the Goblins moved like predators, darting between cover as they closed in on the enemy’s positions. Torres’ Goblin leapt onto a rock outcropping, firing its small laser into a Reaper’s exposed flank. The hit staggered the enemy mech, but it recovered quickly, its blade-like arms lashing out in a wide arc. Torres narrowly avoided the attack, her Goblin twisting away as the Reaper’s blade sliced through empty air.
“I’ve got this one distracted!” Torres called out. “Harland, back me up!”
Jamerson’s Goblin emerged from the dust, its Fokker medium lasers charging. He fired a precise burst, striking the Reaper’s knee joint. The enemy mech collapsed, one leg crumpling beneath it. Before it could recover, Torres closed in, her Goblin’s spiked fists slamming into its cockpit. The Reaper shuddered, sparks flying, before going still.
“Target down,” Torres reported, her voice steady despite the chaos.
Meanwhile, the Grants laid down a relentless barrage of suppressive fire, their railguns punching through the rocky ridges. One Mangler attempted to reposition, only to be struck by a kinetic slug that tore through its shoulder. The mech tumbled from its perch, crashing into the canyon floor below.
Despite their early successes, the battle quickly escalated. Two Manglers dropped from the ridges, their spiked fists raised as they charged into the fray. One of them targeted a Grant, its massive frame slamming into the heavier mech like a freight train. The Grant staggered its armor buckling under the force of the blow.
“Grant three is hit!” a voice shouted over the comms. “I’m losing control of the stabilizers!”
Jackie turned her Sherman toward the struggling mech, her targeting systems locking onto the Mangler. She fired her autocannons, the slugs hammering into the brute’s side. The Mangler roared in defiance, its spiked fist swinging toward her. Jackie’s Sherman ducked the blow, its massive frame moving with surprising agility, before retaliating with a laser strike that melted through the Mangler’s damaged armor. The enemy mech collapsed, its reactor sparking as it hit the ground.
“Grant three, fall back!” Jackie ordered. “Goblins, cover their retreat!”
On the ridges, the remaining Reapers rained fire down on Jackie’s team, their rotary autocannons spitting bullets in relentless streams. The Goblins struggled to find cover, their smaller frames ill-suited for withstanding sustained fire. One Goblin was caught mid-dash, a burst of autocannon rounds ripping through its torso. The mech exploded, its remains scattering across the canyon floor.
“Damn it,” Jackie growled, her hands tightening on the controls. “Grants, focus fire on those Reapers! Goblins, keep moving—they’re trying to pin us down!”
Her Sherman advanced, its shoulder-mounted lasers firing in precise bursts. One of the Reapers staggered as her shots struck its rotary cannon, disabling the weapon. Jackie pressed forward, her autocannons firing again and again. The Reaper crumbled under the assault, its limbs sparking as it collapsed.
“Sergeant, we’ve got two transports coming in from the east!” Harland called out. “They’re trying to flank us!”
Jackie’s HUD flashed with new enemy markers. She clenched her jaw. “Torres, Valdez—cut them off. Don’t let them escape with that cargo.”
The battle raged on, the canyon filled with smoke and fire. Jackie’s team fought ruthlessly, and their coordination and training pushed back the enemy's assault. Slowly, the tide began to turn. The Manglers were beaten down, their thick armor cracked and crumpled under the relentless onslaught. The Reapers, though deadly in close combat, were overwhelmed by the combined firepower of the Shermans and Grants.
When the dust finally settled, the canyon was littered with the wreckage of enemy mechs. Fires burned among the rocks, sending black smoke curling into the sky. Jackie’s Sherman stood battered but functional, its armor scorched and pockmarked. Around her, the surviving mechs regrouped, their frames marked by the scars of battle.
“Status report,” Jackie called out, her voice weary but firm.
“Two Goblins down,” Torres replied. “One Grant was heavily damaged but still operational. No enemy survivors.”
Jackie nodded, her hands shaking slightly as she released the controls. “Good work, everyone. We’ve won the canyon, but this isn’t over. Get those transports secured—we move out in ten.”
As the team moved to recover the enemy’s cargo, Jackie leaned back in her seat, her mind already racing with plans for the next fight. The victory had been hard-fought, but she knew the war was far from won.
***
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the crumbling cityscape as Captain Davis piloted his Goblin through the ruins of what was once a bustling industrial hub. His squad moved silently behind him, compact mechs weaving through the debris-strewn streets. The Goblins were nimble, their Rawlins engines purring quietly as they slipped between the skeletal remains of buildings.
“Eyes up, team,” Davis murmured over the comms. “The garrison’s dug in deep. Expect ambushes. No heroics—we hit hard, fast, and get out.”
The garrison was a thorn in their side, a well-fortified stronghold controlling a critical supply route. Recon had reported at least eight enemy mechs alongside automated turrets and infantry units entrenched in key positions. It would be a brutal fight, but the Goblins were designed for precision strikes, and Davis trusted his squad.
“Captain, I’ve got movement,” Lieutenant Kael said, her Goblin perched on the remains of a toppled overpass. “Two mechs patrolling three blocks up. Looks like Manglers.”
Davis narrowed his eyes, his HUD highlighting the distant forms of the enemy mechs. The Manglers were brutes, built for raw power rather than agility. In the tight confines of the city, their bulk could be both a strength and a vulnerability.
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“Kael, you’re overwatch,” Davis said. “Take the high ground. Bendis, flank left. Mateo, right. I’ll draw their attention.”
“Yes, sir,” came the chorus of replies.
Davis pushed his Goblin forward, its compact frame darting through the shadowy streets. The Manglers hadn’t spotted him yet, their patrol pattern methodical but predictable. He waited for the perfect moment, his targeting systems locking onto the nearest mech.
“Engaging,” Davis announced.
His Fokker medium lasers fired rapidly, the twin beams slicing through the air and striking the Mangler’s shoulder joint. The enemy mech jerked, its massive arm dangling uselessly as it turned to face him.
“Contact!” the Mangler pilot shouted over the open comms. “We’ve got hostiles!”
The second Mangler charged, raising its spiked fists. Davis fired his small Gremlin laser, the precision beam hitting the enemy's knee joint. The enemy stumbled but didn’t fall, its momentum carrying it forward.
“Kael, now!” Davis barked.
From her elevated position, Kael unleashed a volley of laser fire, her shots carving into the exposed reactor of the first Mangler. The mech convulsed, sparks flying, before collapsing in a heap. The second Mangler enraged, swung wildly at Davis’ Goblin. He ducked and rolled, his nimble mech narrowly avoiding the crushing blow.
“Bendis, finish it!” Davis ordered.
Bendis’ Goblin darted in from the left, its spiked fists slamming into the Mangler’s exposed back. The enemy mech crumpled, its systems shutting down in sparks.
“Two down,” Davis said, his voice steady. “Kael, report.”
“Overwatch clear,” she replied. “No additional contacts yet, but I’m seeing turret emplacements further up. Looks like heavy rotary cannons.”
The squad regrouped and pressed deeper into the city, the streets narrowing as they approached the garrison’s central stronghold. The remains of civilian life lay scattered around them—burned-out vehicles, shattered windows, and the occasional skeletonized structure standing precariously among the rubble.
As they rounded a corner, the squad came under fire. Heavy rounds from the rotary turrets screamed down the street, forcing the Goblins to scatter. One round grazed Mateo’s Goblin, the armor sparking but holding.
“Turrets sighted,” Mateo called. “Two on the rooftops, west side. They’re covering the approach.”
Davis assessed the situation quickly. “Kael, take out the turret on the left. Bendis, with me—right side. Mateo, keep their infantry occupied.”
The squad moved as one, their Goblins darting between cover. Kael’s medium lasers flared, the beams striking the first turret’s mounting. The weapon exploded, its operator disappearing in a cloud of smoke and debris. On the right, Davis and Bendis worked together, alternating fire to suppress the second turret. Davis’ small laser seared through its targeting systems, and Bendis delivered the finishing blow with a precise strike to its base.
With the turrets disabled, the squad pushed forward into the heart of the garrison. Here, the fight became a brutal, chaotic melee. Infantry poured out of barricaded buildings, their rocket launchers and anti-mech rifles firing from windows and rooftops. The Goblins moved like shadows, their speed and agility allowing them to evade most of the incoming fire.
Mateo’s Goblin leapt onto a rooftop, its spiked fists crushing a fortified machine-gun nest. He turned just in time to dodge a missile, the explosive narrowly missing and blowing a hole in the adjacent building.
“Damn, they’re everywhere!” Mateo shouted. “I can’t keep them off me forever!”
“Stay mobile,” Davis replied, his Goblin cutting through an infantry barricade with its medium lasers. “We’re almost through.”
Ahead, the enemy’s remaining mechs emerged—a mix of Manglers and the smaller, blade-wielding Reapers. Davis cursed under his breath. In the tight confines of the city, the Reapers’ agility would be a problem.
“Bendis, keep the Manglers busy. Kael, Mateo, take the Reapers out before they get too close.”
The battle raged for what felt like hours, the streets and buildings of the city shaking under the weight of the combat. Bendis’ Goblin was hit hard, a Mangler’s fist caving in its chest plating. He ejected just before his mech collapsed, the explosion shaking the ground. Kael managed to take out one Reaper, her lasers cutting through its midsection, but the second one caught Mateo’s Goblin, its blades shearing through the smaller mech’s legs.
“Mateo’s down!” Kael shouted. “I can’t hold this position alone!”
Davis’ Goblin charged into the fray, its medium lasers firing in precise bursts. He targeted the remaining Mangler, aiming for its exposed joints. The brute faltered, its movements slowing as Davis’ squad regrouped. Kael delivered the killing blow, her lasers slicing through the Mangler’s reactor.
When the last enemy mech fell, the battlefield fell silent. The garrison was broken, its mechs destroyed and its infantry scattered. But the cost had been high. Mateo’s Goblin was beyond salvage, and Bendis would need a new mech before he could fight again.
“Mission accomplished,” Davis said into the comms, his voice heavy. “Kael, secure the area. I’ll contact command for extraction.”
As his squad began regrouping, Davis allowed himself to breathe. The city was theirs, but the war was far from over.
***
The enemy commander paced the length of her command chamber, her boots striking the polished metal floor with sharp, deliberate clicks. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the holographic map hovering in the center. Red markers blinked ominously, each representing a convoy lost, a garrison overrun, or a unit destroyed. The weight of failure pressed heavily on her shoulders.
Her aide stood at attention nearby, datapad in hand. His expression was carefully neutral as he waited for her to speak.
“So,” the commander began, her voice cold and measured, “another convoy has been destroyed?”
“Yes, Commander,” the aide replied, his tone equally controlled. “Reports indicate a coordinated strike. The transports were destroyed, and none of the escorts survived. We’ve also received confirmation that our garrison in Sector Fourteen has been overrun.”
The commander stopped pacing, her piercing gaze snapping to the aide. “How is this happening?” she demanded. “We fortified those positions. We equipped those convoys with the best escorts available. Are my pilots incompetent, or are we facing something we weren’t prepared for?”
The aide hesitated, then chose his words carefully. “It seems the insurgents have developed new strategies and equipment. Their machines are faster and more agile, and their pilots use the terrain to their advantage. Reports suggest their tactics focus on precision strikes—hitting our weak points before we can respond.”
The commander’s fist slammed onto the table, rattling the datapad and making the holographic map flicker. “So, they skitter in like rats, strike where we’re vulnerable, and then vanish before we can retaliate?”
“Yes, Commander,” the aide admitted. “It’s proving difficult to pin them down.”
She stared at the map, the blinking red markers mocking her. The room fell silent except for the soft hum of machinery, her breathing the only audible sound. Her rage simmered beneath her controlled exterior, a volcano threatening to erupt.
“Our convoys are the lifeblood of this campaign,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Without them, our forces can’t hold the line. Without garrisons, we lose territory. And without territory, we lose this war.”
The aide nodded, saying nothing. He knew better than to interrupt her when she was in this state.
“What do we know about these machines of theirs?” she asked suddenly, turning to him. “How are they slipping through our defenses?”
The aide tapped his datapad, bringing up a series of reports and diagrams. “They appear to be smaller, more agile than our units. They’re designed for hit-and-run tactics, which allows them to exploit the terrain and avoid confrontation. They’re equipped with weapons optimized for targeting joints and exposed systems.”
“Smaller mechs,” she muttered, her lips curling into a sneer. “Weak, flimsy machines that shouldn’t be able to stand against our firepower. And yet, here we are.”
She turned to the map, her sharp eyes scanning the flashing red zones. “Pull back all convoys from non-essential routes,” she ordered. “I want them rerouted through areas where we can control the terrain. If we can’t secure the roads, we won’t use them.”
The aide nodded, making notes on his datapad. “Understood, Commander. And the garrisons?”
“Reinforce them with everything we have,” she said. “Pull from the reserves if you must. I want overlapping fields of fire, turrets placed in every choke point, and double patrols. Make it impossible for these pests to get close without being obliterated.”
The aide hesitated. “And our offensive strategy? Should we scale back while we focus on fortifications?”
The commander’s eyes narrowed. “Scale back? Are you suggesting we let these insurgents dictate the terms of this war?”
“No, Commander,” the aide replied quickly. “But our resources are—”
“Our resources will be fine,” she snapped. “We just need to use them more intelligently.”
Her fingers danced over the map's controls, shifting the perspective to highlight areas under insurgent control. “They’re hitting us because they think they’re untouchable. Let them believe it. Pull back from the outlying regions and give them a little breathing space. They’ll think we’re retreating.”
She paused, her lips curling into a faint smile. “And when they step forward to take what they think we’ve abandoned, we’ll crush them.”
The aide looked up from his datapad, cautious but intrigued. “Shall I redirect forces to prepare for counterattacks?”
“Not yet,” she said. “First, I want to understand how these machines operate. Deploy reconnaissance units to observe their movements. Track their supply lines, their strongholds, and their repair facilities. I want to know where they keep these infernal machines and who’s behind them.”
The aide nodded. “And once we have that information?”
“We strike,” she said, her voice cold and final. “Their machines can’t move without fuel. Their pilots can’t fight without supplies. Burn everything they have—factories, storage depots, anything that keeps them operational. Starve them out.”
The aide saluted sharply. “It ill be done.”
As he turned to leave, the commander’s gaze lingered on the map, her mind churning with calculations and contingencies. Each red marker represented a failure, yes, but also an opportunity. The insurgents had revealed their hand, and she would not let them continue unchecked.
Her voice was a quiet growl, more to herself than anyone else. “Let them think they’re winning. Let them celebrate their little victories. Soon, they’ll learn what it means to face true power.”
The door hissed shut behind the aide, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the dim glow of the map. Her anger still burned within her, but it was no longer blinding. It was focused, honed into a weapon, and she intended to use it.