FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Outgunned and outnumbered, Sgt. Casey Jenson is forced to bail out of his Locust. With no other option but to flee on foot, miles of dense forest lie between him and safety.

---

Refuge

by TypicalFloof

Chapter 1: Survival Instinct

Chapter Theme: Razor - Armed and Dangerous

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JS348d92SBU

---

“Recon Lance, Command. Sitrep."

“Command, this is Bravo One," Casey heard his lieutenant reply. “Zero enemy 'Mechs sighted. Can't see shit in this storm, sir."

“Roger, Bravo One. Continue advancing. Keep your eyes peeled, Greer," Colonel Roget instructed.

Casey eased his Locust forward and skirted around the base of a small ridge. No sense in silhouetting myself, he thought. Even though his Locust's sensors were powerful, the heavy downpour Recon Lance was trapped in drastically cut their effective range. Worse still, the driving rain was coupled with a dense fog that obscured his camera feeds.

Weapons at the ready, Casey continued moving and tried to peer through the thick mist. The MechWarrior squinted as a gust of wind blew. A small clearing jutted out of the shifting fog with a thick screen of trees on the opposite side. Dense coniferous forest covered this part of Stridus-A, making the recon lance's job even more difficult.

The Stridus system remained virtually undisturbed at the fringes of Capellan space until the Great House began its expansion campaign. The Capellan military took notice of the system, realizing that it could serve as a staging ground for military probes into contested space. Deploying a force of two lances to the system's principal planet, the Confederation offensive began as they fought to claim it as their own.

Stridus-A's capital city, Vella, scraped together a militia, but it was a pitiful force consisting of about fifty members. Colonists all, none had any military experience. Besides personnel, the militia was bolstered by a Wasp, a Locust, two ancient AgroMechs_,_ and a few troop transports.

House Marik detected the Confederation's encroachment and quickly decided they didn't like it. However, because the Free Worlds League was embroiled in conflict with the Lyran Commonwealth, they couldn't devote any serious resources to the problem. Luckily, this sort of work was perfect to farm out to a mercenary company, which House Marik happily did. That was how Baker Company had ended up in-system several weeks ago.

The League facilitated contact between Baker Company and government officials from Vella. Fearing the Liao invaders, Vella's bureaucrats quickly accepted House Marik's aid. Once the final details of the contract were hammered out, Baker Company was given the job of bloodying the Capellan force's nose enough to persuade House Liao to leave Stridus-A alone. The mercenary company's machines and men established a headquarters near Vella, and began the process of drilling and training the Vellan militia.

Recon Lance was on patrol about 30 klicks north of the capital city. They had received reports of Liao troop movements in the area, which was why Colonel Roget had deployed them despite the fierce storm.

The rain slackened, and Casey's breath caught. Am I seeing things? He rubbed his eyes. The recon lance had been on patrol for hours, and no one in Baker Company had gotten much rest in the weeks they'd been planetside. Looking again, he studied the newly revealed dark blotches. Deciding they looked out-of-place, Casey reached for his comm controls.

At that moment, brilliant light stabbed toward his Locust. Casey's display lit up as it registered a hit to his torso. Shit!

“Enemy 'Mechs, on my marker!" Casey transmitted. He dodged and weaved as another volley of laser fire shot toward him.

“Hang tight, Casey!" Freeman said. On his sensors, Casey saw his lancemate shift his Shadow Hawk toward his location. Casey knew he was in a bad spot. The recon lance was slightly spread out, with him as the rightmost 'Mech in their advancing line. It would take some time before Freeman could reach his position.

Casey snapped off two quick laser shots as he scrambled to put cover between himself and the enemy 'Mechs. Now that they were close enough, Casey's sensors declared at least two of them. He grimaced as he saw that they were a Marauder and an Orion. He knew that his light 'Mech provided a tempting target since he couldn't score any significant hits against the heavies while they could continue to fire at him with impunity. The Locust's speed was his only advantage against such lopsided odds.

The ground shook as an autocannon blast nearly hit the sprinting light 'Mech. Casey felt his shirt stick to him with sweat. Too close. He continued sprinting laterally, hoping to get out of range.

A PPC bolt slammed into the left side of the Locust. He reeled as he fought the machine for balance. Warnings blared as he glanced at the damage. Shit! Left torso's fucked. Heat sink gone.

Casey spun, attempting to shield his damaged left side.

“Freeman, where the hell are you?" he transmitted.

The only reply he received was an incoming autocannon round that smashed into one leg and a missile strike to his head. Casey's helmet smacked against the side of the narrow cockpit hard enough that stars exploded across his vision. He tried to sidestep, but the Locust's damaged left leg responded sluggishly and slipped on something. Casey lost his balance and his machine pitched over. He gasped as he saw he was heading over an embankment.

The battered Locust bounced off the ground and continued to tumble down the slope. Casey's world tilted as he caught glimpses of trees, sky, and river. With a final crash, the 'Mech jolted to a stop in a splash of water. Dazed, Casey blinked as he struggled to gain his bearings. He felt hot blood ooze down the right side of his face and winced at a sharp pain emanating from his ribs.

Casey's Locust was lying almost facedown on its right side in the small river. He realized with a groan that his cockpit sealing had been damaged, either from the blast, or the resulting wild tumble. Water had already seeped into the cockpit and was rapidly pooling. Ignoring the warnings splashed across his display, Casey tried to right the 'Mech, but the Locust was unresponsive. He was a sitting duck!

Wincing, Casey yanked off his neurohelmet and unstrapped himself. He hurriedly donned his fatigues, grabbed his small rucksack, and unlocked the hatch at the top of the cockpit. Grunting, Casey tried to push the hatch open, but it refused to move. He swallowed his mounting panic as the water continued to rise. Casey slammed the hatch with his shoulder and nearly passed out. The water swirled at his ankles. Gasping, he clutched his ribs and fought to stay upright. He was relieved to feel water dripping down the hatch as he saw that it had broken loose. Casey pushed again and the hatch swung open. He quickly wriggled out as a torrent of water rushed into the cockpit and narrowly avoided losing his footing as he splashed into the river.

Slinging his pack, Casey jogged painfully to the riverbank and crouched beneath a rocky outcropping to catch his breath. He could hear the sounds of pitched battle in the distance. Clearly, his lance had engaged the Liao 'Mechs. This was no time to be caught out in the open. He needed to get moving.

But which way? Casey recalled the area's geography from his briefings. The Liao forces were massed north of the capital city. Originating from a mountain range that lie to the northeast, several small rivers flowed through the region. He remembered that they generally ran west before changing direction to continue southwest toward Vella. They bisected the forests housing his enemies and the mountains. Recon Lance had deployed near where the rivers tended to curve, so Casey decided his best option was to head upriver where he could eventually head east, away from the Capellans.

Casey hastily bandaged his head and climbed up to level ground. He began following the river, keeping a wary eye on the opposite bank.

***

Nora scowled at the controls of her transport skimmer. Her tail swished when the small convoy again slowed to a halt. She could barely make out the lumbering form of the Wasp ahead of her. Clumsy oaf! she mentally berated the man piloting the 'Mech as she saw the Wasp again struggle to keep its footing. He was not much older than a boy, really, and had no business piloting a 'Mech with his obvious inexperience.

“Stopping again?" A fuzzy head popped into the pilot compartment.

The vixen rubbed a paw over her face in irritation.

“It's the Wasp again!"

“This patrol is going to take all day," Chalmers grumbled, retreating into the back of the vehicle.

The skimmer Nora piloted carried three other members from her village who had volunteered to join Vella's small militia. Andrew Chalmers was a wiry raccoon who was slightly older than Nora. Johannes Otto and his younger brother, Karl, were wolves. They were both barely in their late teens but had insisted on joining the militia.

The anthros were natives of Stridus-A who had settled in the mountains and farmed the surrounding valleys for hundreds of years before the human colony arrived. The capital city had been established as little more than a hamlet decades earlier, much to the anthros' chagrin. The humans began farming the fertile land, and with their advanced technology, they soon cultivated thriving crops. These crops bolstered the small town as it grew into a city, and began to attract off-world visitors to trade with. Wary, the anthros gradually retreated from the budding city in the west and relied more heavily on hunting the forests east of the mountain range.

It all came to a head during one particularly harsh winter. The anthro village's crop harvest had already been small due to premature freezes, and game was scarce as winter rolled in. Teetering on the brink of starvation, the anthros grew desperate. There had been talk of attacking the human settlement, but cooler heads prevailed, and the anthros sent several representatives to Vella.

Surprised at first, the humans traded foodstuffs for pelts, herbs, and minerals. Gradually, the trading relationship developed into a careful truce between the two communities. Neither quite trusted the other, but each side recognized the benefits, and soon, anthros became an accepted, if somewhat rare sight in Vella.

The sudden conflict over their planet had troubled both the citizens of Vella and their neighbors to the northeast. But unlike the humans, the anthros were content to hide in the mountains many miles northeast of Vella. They were secure because the only access to the village was a narrow, winding mountain pass whose entrance was masked by rugged terrain.

Even so, a small number of anthros chafed at the thought of sitting idly while their planet was invaded. They were all young adults who had traveled to Vella more often than their elders, and they felt obligated to help protect the capital city. After much argument, the village leadership had begrudgingly allowed four to join the Vellan militia. Despite some difficulty in convincing the militia commander, Andrew, Nora, and the Otto brothers were accepted as recruits. Fresh from training, this was their first patrol.

Nora was the pilot of the band's transport because she was the only one among them who had any experience. She was comfortable with a few different vehicles, and she had even piloted a 'Mech. Well, at least a 'Mech simulator. Vella had originally purchased a few sims for their growing arcade, and fiercely competitive 'Mech battles soon broke out among teens and young Vellan adults. Nora was hooked immediately, and much to her parents' annoyance, the vixen spent as much free time as she could in the sims.

Seeing the sims' popularity, the arcade owner shrewdly announced a contest, pitting two-on-two in a series of battles with a small cash prize. Nora entered her name enthusiastically and was paired with a lanky farm boy who resented being separated from his friends and stuck with an anthro. He quickly changed his tune once Nora's Wasp had eliminated their first two opponents without breaking a sweat. The pair made it all the way to the finals, where their cooperation and a dose of good luck enabled them to win first place. The boy happily split his winnings with Nora and took every opportunity to rub it in his friends' faces.

Now, Nora fumed at having been assigned to one of the aging troop transports that patrolled behind the fumbling Wasp. She should have been the one piloting the 'Mech, but her CO had flatly refused to let an anthro anywhere near the precious machine.

Nora sighed as the Wasp took off again and the transport in front of her began moving. The fox throttled up and nudged the craft forward.

All of a sudden, an explosion rocked the small convoy. Nora heard the Wasp's pilot scream in fear as another explosion hit close by. Beams of laser light coalesced on his 'Mech, causing his right arm to disappear in a spray of molten metal. Nora's stomach clenched in fear as she froze at the controls. The Wasp never even fired its weapons before exploding under the withering assault.

Galvanized, the transport in front of Nora shot ahead on its cushion of air. She jammed the throttle forward after it. At that moment, a blast shunted Nora's skimmer sideways. Machine gun fire raked the vehicle and she heard the whang of ricocheting bullets. Screams from the rear compartment chilled her blood while Nora fought with the controls. A concussion upset the skimmer, sending it careening into a tree with a sickening crunch.

Nora cried out in pain and gasped as she saw a ragged wound in her left side. A piece of shrapnel was sticking out of her like a knife.

“Chalmers!" Nora cried. Not hearing anything, Nora twisted painfully in her seat to look behind her. “No!" she gasped.

Johannes and Karl were rigid with sightless stares. Blood oozing from bullet holes soaked their olive uniform jackets. She couldn't see Andrew from her position since he was sitting directly behind her, but his still, outstretched paw could mean only one thing.

Nora coughed wetly as her vision began to darken. Why couldn't she get enough air? She struggled to breathe as her vision tunneled. I'm gonna die here, she thought before slipping into unconsciousness.

***

Casey hit the deck when he heard a firefight erupt in front of him. Crawling, he pulled himself along until he was overlooking a slight ridge. The rain had slackened and the fog had thinned enough so that he could see a besieged group of transports on the trail about 150 yards away. Just as quickly as it began, the fight stopped leaving smoldering scrap in its wake.

Pulling out his binoculars, he winced as he recognized the skimmers and what little remained of the Wasp as belonging to Vella's militia. Poor bastards!

Casey waited and scanned the horizon for signs of the ambushers. After several minutes, he did not detect any. He reasoned that the Capellans must be trying hit-and-run tactics. From what he knew, Baker Company's two lances were evenly matched by the two the Capellans fielded. Today marked the first time the opposing forces had engaged each other in open combat.

He frowned as he considered what to do. He didn't want to expose himself to any Capellan 'Mechs that might be lurking. On the other hand, maybe he could scavenge something from the wreckage. He needed a better weapon than the pistol holstered at his belt if he hoped to survive an engagement with any Liao patrols he may encounter, let alone Capellan 'Mechs.

Mind made up, Casey pushed himself to his feet and slowly threaded his way through the underbrush parallel to the trail. Drawing level with the lead transport skimmer, he saw that the entire back half was blown open, and the front compartment was smashed and twisted like a discarded tin can. He shifted his view to the trailing skimmer. While crumpled against a tree and riddled with bullet holes, it looked mostly intact. He waited a beat, straining to make out any signs of the ambushers.

Unsnapping the thumb break on his holster, Casey walked onto the trail and slowly circled around the back of the skimmer. Resting his hand on the pistol's grip, he scanned the underbrush for anyone lying in wait as he approached the rear doors.

“Approaching friendly! Anyone in there?" he called, banging on the doors.

Receiving no reply, Casey eased open one of the doors, keeping his body off to the side in case a terrified recruit decided to let loose a few shots. None came, however, so Casey poked his head in. What he saw made his stomach turn.

Bits of fur and chewed-up meat were all that remained of the anthros who had been sitting in the back of the skimmer. Casey retched at the sight of a raccoon with viscera hanging out of his abdomen. He tore his eyes away and gagged at the horrible smell. In his time as a MechWarrior, Casey had seen his share of death, but MechWarriors were largely insulated from the horrors of hand-to-hand combat.

He rubbed a hand over his face, wondering. He had no idea that any anthros had joined the Vellan militia. Casey supposed he had been too busy to find out, or maybe Vella was embarrassed about them. He quashed his curiosity and shrugged. Nothing he could do about it now.

Casey spat and steeled himself. He stepped into the passenger compartment that was slick with blood and yanked open a rucksack that had fallen to the floor. It was the only intact rucksack he could find. He sighed with relief when he saw it contained rations and even a small medkit. Casey chucked it outside as he spotted an even better prize.

He reached for the rifle that was clutched in a wolf's hands. He gently pried it from the carcass's fingers. Thanks. I need it more than you now, he thought grimly. Casey grabbed the few magazines he could see and stuffed them into pouches on his belt.

Casey was glad for the fresh air as he stepped outside. Glancing over the rifle, he noted with approval that although the finish was worn, it appeared to be well-maintained. Casey dropped the mag and counted twenty thirty-caliber rounds. Slamming the magazine home, Casey eased the bolt partially rearward and frowned when he saw there was no round chambered. The leader of Baker Company's commando unit, Sergeant First Class Yates, had tried to drill into the recruits' heads the importance of always having a round chambered when on patrol, but the Vellan COs resisted the practice in the misguided belief that it was unsafe.

“That's what training is for! And we're the ones with experience!" Yates complained to Colonel Roget, but even the colonel's influence had been unable to sway the militia leaders.

Jacking a round into the chamber, Casey peered through the rifle's scope. He noted with satisfaction that the glass was more than adequate, and boasted 1-10x magnification. Casey made sure the scope was set on 1x and knelt down to transfer the useful items from the dead anthro's rucksack to his own. He nestled the pack onto his shoulders and slung the rifle across his back.

Rising, Casey walked to the passenger door of the pilot compartment. He peered inside, but couldn't make anything out due to the window's tint. He debated. He could continue to follow the river and have a vague idea of where he was heading. But, the skimmer pilot may have had a map which would be a tremendous boon.

He hadn't gotten a look inside the pilot compartment before, so Casey tilted his body away from the door. Slowly popping the latch, he opened the door.

***

Nora became aware of a tromping noise in the back of her head. Frustrated, she tried to ignore it and go back to sleep. She was so, so tired.

Irritatingly, she heard a scraping noise and more thumping. Swiveling her ears, Nora realized with a start that the sounds were coming from inside the skimmer! It took herculean effort for the vixen to open her eyes. She slowly reached down and felt for the knife on her belt. Nora wished she had a gun, but the militia had only begrudgingly issued one to Johannes because they weren't about to waste valuable equipment on anthros. The only weapons Nora had were her stun baton and small fixed blade belted to her waist.

Not hearing any more noises, Nora tensed. Was she alone?

Nora's eyes widened as she saw a silhouette come into view through the side window. It was one of the attackers! Her fingers curled around the hilt of the knife, and the vixen slowly pulled the blade free. The exertion sapped most of her waning energy; Nora sagged in her seat, hiding the knife with her body. Viewing the man at the window, Nora gathered her strength and waited. Hot anger coursed through her veins. She was going to make him pay for what they did to her friends!

The door squeaked for the first few inches, then screeched open and banged against the side of the skimmer. Nora held her breath as she felt the soldier getting closer. Even over the sickening stench emanating from the rear compartment, she could smell the man's excitement and fear.

Through slitted eyes, Nora watched the man glance her over and lean inside. He seemed to be searching for something. The man's left arm was her nearest target. She willed him closer. Just a little more!

The man reached for something at the controls. Now was her chance!

Nora snapped her eyes open, and with all her might, she swung the knife at the man's exposed arm.

***

Casey jerked at the flash of orange and cried out at the searing pain in his arm. Pivoting quickly, he yanked his pistol out of the holster and thrust it toward his assailant. He stared at the panting foxgirl in the pilot's seat, bloody knife clutched in her paw. Stupid! he berated himself. Thought she was dead! Stupid!

His finger tightened on the trigger as he focused on the anthro's snarling face, but stopped as he saw the pure terror in her eyes and the nasty wound in her side. She couldn't have been older than him, and the dead anthros in the back looked even younger. If the human recruits from Vella's militia were anything to go by, she was nothing but a scared kid. He couldn't bring himself to fire.

Shaking his head, Casey jerked out of the doorway and holstered his pistol with some difficulty. He sagged to the ground and clutched his forearm. Grimacing, Casey yanked the medkit from his pack. The cut was thankfully shallow, but he needed to stop the bleeding. Already, blood had begun to soak his arm.

Casey gritted his teeth as he splashed disinfectant on the wound and tightly wound a bandage around his arm. Flexing his fingers hurt like hell, but he was grateful he could still move them.

The wounded MechWarrior's head throbbed as he heard the heavy thump of cannon fire and the lighter cadence of answering machine guns in the distance. He couldn't stay here. He had to get moving again. Painfully, Casey rose to his feet and leaned against the side of the transport.

Carefully, he peeked inside the pilot compartment and saw that the fox had slumped over, apparently unconscious. Casey frowned. The back-and-forth rhythm of cannons and machine guns seemed to be getting closer. He heard the fox's wheezing breath and his frown deepened. Something wouldn't let him leave her to choke to death on her own blood. He doubted he could save her, but maybe he could make her death a fraction more comfortable.

Casey knelt on the passenger seat and slowly removed the knife from the fox's loose grip. Wincing, he put one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees. Balancing as much of her weight on his good arm as he could, Casey exhaled and gingerly lifted the fox out of the compartment. He gently laid her alongside the vehicle.

The side of her jacket was coated with an impossible amount of blood. Casey sliced her jacket and shirt away from the wound and grimaced at the piece of shrapnel sticking out of her side.

Like most members of a mercenary company, Casey had received medical training, including how to treat puncture and bullet wounds. Quickly, Casey surveyed the first aid equipment he had. He shook his head. It wasn't enough. Feeling a small pouch on his belt, Casey's mind raced.

Fuck it! he thought. It's the only chance she's got.

Casey yanked a strange device out of the pouch. It looked like a cross between an ancient GPS unit and a garden hose attachment. The device had a small screen on top of the grip that connected to a spray nozzle at the other end.

Sweating, Casey powered the device on and stabbed the trigger near the fox's wound, while he applied pressure to the gash with his other hand. He was careful to avoid the shrapnel's sharp edges. Blood oozed between his fingers as beams of bluish light pulsed over the area. The screen flashed green, so Casey continued to hold the trigger as he watched a progress bar crawl toward the right. Hurry up!

Finally, the bar pulsed, signaling completion. Casey input several parameters and brought the nozzle close to the wound. Quickly, Casey removed his hand while simultaneously pressing the trigger. A spray of foam shot out of the nozzle, and a thick gel-like substance coated the fox's side. Casey continued spraying for several seconds before stopping to check. He breathed a sigh of relief. The bleeding had stopped from what he could tell.

Casey replaced the device in its pouch. Gathering the recruits' torn rucksacks from the back of the skimmer and two stout branches, he fashioned a makeshift sled. Cursing, Casey dragged the vixen's limp weight onto the sled and lashed her in place. He stood and closed his eyes as his weakness and pain caused him to go momentarily light-headed.

Casey used a pilfered strap to run a loop through a hole he'd sliced in the thick canvas. He pulled the loop taut over his shoulder and put one foot in front of the other as he started along the trail. The patter of rainfall intensified above him in the forest canopy. Breathing heavily, he cast a fearful eye at the darkening sky. Casey needed to find shelter fast if he didn't want to die out here.