[center][h2][color=SandyBrown]The Buckshot Boys[/color][/h2][/center]

[color=PaleVioletRed]"You've gotta be joking,"[/color] Private Liebowitz muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel of the Armored Personnel Carrier as it rumbled toward the target. Given the roar of the engine and the chaos of the battle around them, he was sure no one could hear his grumbling.

[color=SandyBrown]"Yeah, Liebowitz,"[/color] snarled Sergeant Dalton, causing the private to go white with surprise, [color=SandyBrown]"I'm a real comedian. Stop me if you've heard this one: double-PT once we get back."[/color]

Liebowitz nodded, then gulped. The Sarge's wrath put more fear into the hearts of the Green Knights' infantry platoons than any amount of enemy fire.

[color=SandyBrown]"Now then,"[/color] Dalton said, his voice booming even over the din of battle, [color=SandyBrown]"once we get alongside the train, we disembark two by two. Ortega and I take the lead car, Bronson and Jaffee take the next, then Okamura and Dautrieve, Morris and Azizi, Vasquez and Drake, with Borden and Shida taking the rear. Breach the entrances all at once, then sweep and clear. Needler pistols [i]only[/i], understood?"[/color]

[i]"Understood, sir!"[/i] the Buckshot Boys responded in unison. Needler pistols were short-range but extremely vicious anti-personnel weapons designed for boarding actions on spaceships. Using compressed gas to force polymer-composite blocks through a fine screen at immense speed, they fired a spray of tiny flechettes that could not penetrate hard surfaces, but would utterly shred flesh. While this made needlers inefficient against enemies behind hard cover, they produced almost no sound or recoil, and the gunman could use them without worrying about creating an accidental hull breach-- or, in this case, accidentally setting off a nuclear warhead.

[color=SandyBrown]"Once we find the target, the APC will line up to the right car, allowing Francis to board and begin disarming, while the boarding party provides cover."[/color]

Corporal Francis nodded, her confidence very clearly just an appearance. While she had the most training and certs in demolitions, there weren't any courses for something like this. It was an a complete shot in the dark that she would be able to disarm the bomb at all.

[color=SandyBrown]"Now, if there's any--"[/color]

[color=LimeGreen]"Contact, five o'clock!"[/color] shouted Private Duffey from the seat of the .50 cal turret. [color=LimeGreen]Letting 'em have it!"[/color]

The cabin of the APC was hammered with the roar of the twin machine guns. Against Battlemechs, these weapons wouldn't do much more than scratch the paint. Against soft targets like the Heavenly Sword's technicals, however, the .50 caliber bullets ripped through them like a vibro-knife through butter.

[color=LimeGreen]"Get some, you cultist fucks!"[/color] Duffey shouted, an almost insane glee in his voice. [color=LimeGreen]"Get some, get some, fuckin' GET S--"[/color]

The APC shook from the impact of a stray rocket blast, and the cabin filled with smoke pouring in from the gunner's hatch. As the scrubbers cleared the air, the Buckshot Boys could see Duffey's legs slumping back down from the turret, everything above the waist a charred and gory ruin.

[color=SandyBrown]"Fuck me,"[/color] Dalton grumbled, then shouted [color=SandyBrown]"Plan remains the same! Time to mount up!"[/color]

The life of an infantryman in a battlefield dominated by 'Mechs was usually measured in seconds. Their presence would always be necessary for actions just like this-- boarding craft, clearing structures, securing targets-- but nearly everyone who signed up to serve as a mud-marcher for a mercenary outfit knew that the odds were their paycheck would be going to their next of kin. It fostered a strange sort of [i]esprit de corps[/i] among the infantry, but also meant one had to be at least a little heartless in action. Mourn later, act now.

[color=PaleVioletRed]"Coming up on the target, sir!"[/color] Private Liebowitz called out. [color=PaleVioletRed]"Everyone hold on!"[/color]

[color=SandyBrown]"Time to earn your pay, Boys!"[/color] the Sarge said, a hungry smile on his face as the left side door slid open.

The Heavenly Sword land train was a beast of a sight, a chain of six cars covered in extra layers of bolted-on armor. The front of it was fitted with a massive plow, and each car was fitted with a machine gun turret, which pinged bullets off of the side of the APC as it approached. Neither the train or the APC was particularly fast, but heading at each other head-on was going to make this maneuver tricky.

[color=PaleVioletRed]"Here goes!"[/color] Liebowitz shouted, turning the steering wheel to the left, allowing the land train to pass along the right side. As soon as they were past the plow, he slammed the brakes and threw the steering wheel as hard as he could to the right, causing the rear of the vehicle to fishtail out. Inside, the infantrymen lurched, holding on for dear life to not get flung out of the open door.

Liebowitz prayed to whatever gods might be listening as he fought for control of the APC. This sort of move would be considered risky for a high-performance sports car; for a 10-ton armored combat vehicle, it was goddamn ludicrous.

But when Sergeant Dalton wanted something done, you didn't waste time wondering about trivial things like whether it was possible.

As the APC's brakes screamed and the frame itself groaned in protest, eventually, the vehicle righted itself, then Liebowitz slammed the accelerator. Now with the open door facing the side of the land train, Dalton and the Boys readied to board the armored beast, a climbing axe in one hand and a satchel charge in the other.

[color=SandyBrown]"Ortega, we're up!"[/color] Dalton shouted to his second as the APC gained on the lead car. Before Corporal Ortega could respond, Dalton hurled his massive frame out the side of the APC, digging his climbing axe into the side of the land train.

By the end of the Fourth Succession War, the playbook of anti-'Mech infantry tactics first pioneered by the Gray Death Legion had made it into circulation among mercenary commands. While the concept of ambushing a 'Mech, climbing its frame, and planting explosive charges along its weak points was feasible in theory, in practice it had a survivability rate so low that no one would dare try it apart from the desperate, the insane, or the very, [i]very[/i] good.

In this situation, the Buckshot Boys were a mix of all three.

Of the twelve infantrymen who leapt from the APC, ten of them made it onto the train. Dautrieve fell short and was dashed along the rocky ground, while Borden's axe slipped and he went under the train's massive wheels. The rest managed to gain holds along the sides of the cars, working their way around to the front and back of each one, and set their charges.

The entire train shuddered as the satchel charges, designed to penetrate 'Mech armor, obliterated the armored doors of the train cars, the shock and shrapnel ripping through several of the Heavenly Sword's fanatics outright. The smoke and the confusion turned each car into utter bedlam as a half-dozen firefights broke out.

[color=SandyBrown]"You wanna make yourselves martyrs?"[/color] Dalton roared as a dozen half-trained fanatics pointed their guns in his direction. [color=SandyBrown]"Lemme help you with that."[/color]

As pistol and rifle rounds pinged and whanged at random through the cabin of the lead car, Sergeant Dalton and Corporal Ortega put their Needler pistols to work. Every time they pulled the trigger, one of the Swordsmen went down in a bloody heap, their chests, limbs, and heads ripped to bloody shreds by the high-velocity flechettes. With the gas-powered guns making so little noise and no muzzle flash, the Swordsmen had trouble seeing where Dalton's fire was coming from, and he cut them down with no trouble.

Up and down the train, it was the same story. The Heavenly Sword were fanatics, but they were mostly untrained partisans, poor souls who had been indoctrinated by political radicals that put guns into their hands without bothering to show how to use them. The Green Knights First Infantry Platoon, however, were professional soldiers, with body armor and extensive training. Even outnumbered a half-dozen to one, the Buckshot Boys cleared the train cars with an efficiency they'd be proud of, if it weren't for the fact that each second they spent fighting was another second closer to being reduced to atomic vapor.

[color=Violet][i]"Found the bomb, Sarge!"[/i][/color] came Private Okamura's voice over comms. [color=Violet][i]"Third car!"[/i][/color]

[color=SandyBrown]"Acknowledged,"[/color] he responded, before hailing the APC, [color=SandyBrown]"Third car, Liebowitz. Francis, you're up!"[/color]

As the rest of the Boys advanced on the third car to cover for Corporal Francis, Corporal Ortega moved to the driver's cabin of the lead car.

[color=MediumTurquoise]"Hey Sarge?"[/color] Ortega called. [color=MediumTurquoise]"Got a problem here. The brakes are cut, and the steering's jammed. We can't slow this thing down or change course."[/color]

Dalton grunted. [color=SandyBrown]"Francis, how much time do you need?"[/color]

[color=Yellow][i]"Ahhh....two minutes, maybe three?"[/i][/color] came the Corporal's response as she broke out her demo tools.

As the dam loomed large ahead of them, Sergeant Dalton knew they didn't have nearly that much time. At best, they had a minute before impact, maybe thirty seconds before they'd be too close to slow down in time.

He hated it, but he knew it'd have to be done. He'd have to call in for help from the Mechwarriors.

Opening a channel on his comms, Dalton called out to the 'Mech lance.

[color=SandyBrown]"Green Knights, this is Buckshot leader!"[/color] he said. [color=SandyBrown]"The boys need some time to work. Thirty seconds to put the brakes on this train, three-zero and counting!"[/color]