Zohra
The tear of lasers capacitors discharging. The heavy thunk of autocannons. And the screeching wail of missiles. Tempting sounds. Distracting sounds. But Zohra would not be distracted. She had a role to play. She had a task. The left flank was hers to watch. Perching above the valley, she kept a constant move, a stationary light mech was a dead light mech.
Zohra wasted no time moving to secure the left flank. The sounds of shooting were a tempting distraction, but she had task. Screening for any more pirates was the priority. Infantry was unwelcome. Tanks even more so. Expected as enemy forces were. Incoming BattleMech signatures presented a far worse threat. Even pirates could be dangerous when they pinned you down with infantry and combat vehicles. A stray Autocannon round or SRM was all it took to leave the world as a fine red mist.
The infantry that popped out of cover to fire a brace almost caught Zohra unaware. But they were too eager, perhaps afraid. They were too greedy. The range was far. Their weapons clearly dated. And a batch of missiles sailed long, passing far above the top of her BattleMech. Zohra didn't hesitate. She didn't want to think. And she didn't want to see. Green beams arced out from the scorching the ground as she swept the deadly right arm of the RVN-2X precisely across the uncovered trenches still smouldering with smoke from the fired missiles.
There was no to time to wait and to observe. Instead Zohra firewalled her throttle, sending the Raven stomping over what remained of the infantry squad. Swinging wide, she tried not to think about anyone unfortunate enough to be alive beneath her before the claws of the BattleMech came thundering down into the dirt.
Shifting forwards, Zohra kept her eyes forward across the ridge, checking her sensors with each shuddering step of the running Raven. She had to keep up with the lance, if only in parallel. Across the valley she could see that Karel was busy. A J. Edgar moved rapidly beneath her. It didn't seem to see her. It was focused on the Dragon. Zohra stopped for only a moment, drawing a deep breath, and squeezing the trigger on her left control stick.
Brilliant blue cut through the air, lancing through the armor just below the cockpit of the nimble craft as raced towards her lancemates. Zohra had only to wait as the combat vehicle floated helplessly through her sights, the large laser scorching along until it rested over the engines. The J. Edgar shook with smoke and then burst into sad flames as the fusion reactor faded. The smell of burnt ozone filling Zohra's cockpit, but she did not linger. Many would die. Many would die soon enough and she only hoped she would not be one of them.
"Left flank, still clear! Keeping pace with you, Commander," Zohra said, keying her comms.
Bork Lazer,
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