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Obrian Chronicle


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#21 cmopatrick

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Posted 27 December 2012 - 09:59 PM

“Ok,” the Colonel commences, “prewalk 314 GZR to order. Please sync you compads to the main.”
As Ray reaches over to show me where to press, I notice the open portals all close and a small red light come on in all four corners of the room.
“Tsaris, please record now.”
“As you wish, Colonel,” the ai answers him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are in something of a quandary. Before I tell you what we think appropriate, let me bring you up to speed on the contract series, what we know about this mission, and what we unexpectedly do NOT know.”
Marty and Ray both have concerned looks, and I get the impression that this is not how these prewalk briefings normally go.
“The contract is a planetary series, jump fees were part of the up-front non-refundable expenses. We are supposedly here to help break a pirate syndicate from the Greater Valkyrate that is trying to establish a base here, but the original MRB posting was very vague due to the 'fluid situation on the ground'. The upside was that it pays VERY well, and we retain full salvage rights.”
He pauses, as if in thought. The room is very quiet.
“The downside at the time we took it was that we would be at the edge of the Oberon Confederation and within range of...”
Again, he falls silent.

“Excuse me for a minute, please.” Motioning both captains to him, they quietly confer.
I lean a bit towards Ray and whisper, “is this normal?”
“No. Never seen anything like it. Marty, you've been here longer, you have any ideas?”
Marty looks thoughtful. I can hear Lt. Al-Zafirah and Lt. Ames whispering, too.
“I do remember once, when we still had both Colonels and the other two lances. We were pretty close to Kurita space. Colonel Greer acted a lot like this, but he was just XO and Colonel Green decided to go ahead. It turned out to be some kind of trap, and we got hammered... if I remember right that might even have been the mission when we lost Colonel Green. Been a LONG time, maybe five or six years.”
The fact that we once had fielded four lances really surprises me, but before I can ask for more detail...
“Let's refocus, team,” Colonel Greer says.
The whispering stops and all our eyes are on the suddenly older looking man who leads us.

“Before I speculate further, let me tell you what we know and don't. Our initial orders are to stop a pair of convoys that are making their way from LimaHotel 641 to somewhere near LimaAlpha 550. We have sat maps of the area, but no tactical three or better newer than last week; we had been promised updated versions by last night, but they are not available at this time. We have, however, unofficially accessed planetary weather sats at just after 0000 this morning, giving us a near current ten meter infra-red and a seven hour old visual ten.”
While describing the two maps, both briefly appear on our pads.
“From the former, we know there are four different possible heat groupings that could be the targets... problem is, at ten meters, they could just as easily be civies going to a football match, harmless traffic, or...” he pauses for effect, “unexpected combat units.”
I glance around; everyone is focused on the Colonel.
“Judging by their direction and suspected speed, they will make this zone,” he circles one on our maps, “just after dawn, roughly eleven hours from now. As you can see, there are numerous heat signatures here, but they at least appear benign; as the three meter appears to confirm.”
Our maps zoom in on the blotchy colors and Ray leans over towards me and in less than a whisper says, “hot springs, most likely.”
Colonel Greer continues, “We are further hampered by a lack of conventional aerial data, especially since both our UAVs are inop right now and our 'hosts' are unwilling to provide any form of recon.”
“Not good,” I hear Marty mutter.
“Its our opinion that if we are to attack without a recon, we might commit an atrocity... on the other hand, once they have daylight, we can't approach for another eighteen to twenty hours... presuming we even know where they are at that point.”
The map zooms back to the possible corridor of travel, still in the heat tracking version.
“If we overlay the heat positives on the three meter,” the pads display this arrangement, “you can also see that there are several places where the route might cross through ambush zones, especially here.” He marks a circle on his map and all of ours duplicate it. “This one seems to have a high probability of overhangs that might easily null any heat or visual, meaning we would need pads on the ground if they get that far.”

I don't really know why, but I raise my hand like I was in a class.
“Yes, Lieutenant O'Brian?”
“Sir, why wouldn't we just get there first?” I think a couple of eyes glance my way, but I stay intently focused on Colonel Greer.
“Fair question; this type terrain is hostile to cradles,” the maps zooms in on the location in question, “a hot drop on the site would be suicide even presuming that there is not some trap already laid there. Further, if we made it, we would have to spring our trap before we could be completely sure what we were firing at or they would potentially be able to run our gauntlet.”
“Oh. Could we block the passage?”
He seems to think for a minute, then responds, “let's keep that idea in reserve for now. It would be very difficult to do, but we might still consider that.”
“Thank you sir.”
Again, he seems lost in thought. A moment passes. Now it's a minute. Without explanation, he returns to his original view of the tactical with the heat overlay and resumes, “what we need to do is get good data, quickly and... quietly.”
He and both captains look at Lieutenant Al-Zafirah. From her smile, I would almost bet that she knew they were about to turn to her.
“I am at your disposal, Colonel,” she states clearly.
“Knew I could count on you.”

“Ok, this we know. Now, we get into the speculation.”
The three of us lean forward expectantly.
“Some of you know that there is one particular unit we have had problems with before...”
Marty whispers, “Waco Rangers.”
“... the Waco Rangers. I’m not going to go into the whys, let's just say there is very old bad blood.”
We look at each other and then back up front.
“I have zero tangible reasons to suspect them, just a gut check.” He sighs and looks tired again, “Thing is, those intangibles have kept our bacon out of the fire more than once, and remind me of a time when they should have.”
He makes eye contact with each of us around the room, even turning to look at both the captains.
“We took the contract, MRB will skewer us if we back out without cause... and a 'gut check' isn't one in their book. If this is a trap, however, then we need to be ready and expect the unexpected. Do we have any ideas or suggestions?”
Ray speaks up, “Colonel?”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Do we have any info, real or suspected, about the disposition of civilians in the region?”
“No. We need that, too. What I am suggesting is that we recon our three fastest 'Mechs, with Lt. Al-Zafirah as the deep point dropped about here.” He indicates an areas several kilometers from where he worries an ambush might be. “That does mean we have send the other two faster 'Mechs: the Cicada and the Raven 2x...”
He has my complete attention.
“... to points roughly here and here.” At each “here” he indicates a location on the probable route.
Almost at the same moment, both Ray and Marty say, “Sir?!”
“Yes, I know who will be in the 2x.” He looks directly at me, “I believe I can trust him for this.”

#22 cmopatrick

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Posted 28 December 2012 - 07:08 PM

“But Colonel Greer, my Wolfhound is as fast and I have experience,” Marty objects.
“Lieutenant Kuti, the 2x has that extra light we dropped in there last March, and while Joe never got it there, it can handle 113kph; that's a good fifteen faster than your Wolfhound. Besides, I actually need your skill and firepower with us. Lt. O'Brian will be tasked with searching for contacts and is expected to run away if he is spotted; your weapons will likely be needed to help us protect him if he brings a train of enemy units in hot pursuit.”
I'm still dumbfounded and haven't thought of a thing to say.
“But sir, Paddy can't...”
Now the Colonel is angry, “Enough, Lieutenant!”
Marty sits back with something of a stunned look. Beside me, Ray has a really worried expression. I? Well, I have a rising sense of dread.
Captain Howard finally speaks up, “I know we usually talk things out and try to come to a consensus, but this time we need to listen to the Colonel and trust that the three of us have realized that this is the best way we can find to protect our unit and still accomplish the mission if it is actually for real.”
Both the Colonel and Captain Stevens nod in agreement.
“Look, there are real risks with this,” Colonel Greer resumes, “and we know it. We are asking a lot of all three scouts, especially Lt. Al-Zafirah. If this mission is no more than what it was sold as, then we are going to be fine... and if it is not so benign, every one of us will probably be tested beyond what we thought were our limits... no matter how far we are from the main body of 'Mechs.”
I’m having a hard time getting a grasp of what is happening here.
“You Ok, Pad?” Ray almost whispers after glancing my way. Problem is, the room had just gone silent before he said that, now everyone is looking at me.

I can feel an undefined terror lurking just below my thoughts. It forms a bottomless lake waiting for me to step down into, knowing I will drown before I find my footing...
NO.
In my mind I scream at that lurking thing, “I AM AN O'BRIAN!” However diluted that ancient bloodline is, I will carry it with courage. I refuse the terror. I will not step down into it to drown, I will fight for and with every breath.

“Lieutenant O'Brian, are you Ok?” Captain Howard asks.
“Working on it, sir.”
He smiles almost knowingly, “Yes, I would guess so. You look a little pale.”
Captain Stevens leans towards the Colonel and whispers something. He nods, and she asks me, “are you up for the challenge, Lieutenant O'Brian?”
“I'm not sure, Ma'am, but the unit needs me to be and I need to try, don't I?”
“Yes, we do need it or others will have to assume greater risk. You have spoken well.” She looks back at the Colonel and nods.
The Colonel resumes the briefing, “We will cradle Lt. Al-Zafirah here, Lt. Ames here near this valley junction, and Lt. O'Brian here, nearest the signatures we had last night, but likely behind most of them now. He will also be the pilot closest to our staging point, and hence to our assistance if he gets into trouble.”
Captain Howard adds “We may be adding complexity to a simple operation, but the lack of solid recon can not be overlooked.”
It seems that everyone I can see is nodding at this assessment.
“May I ask why we are so concerned with dropping hot close in?” Lt. Ames asks.
Captain Stevens answers, “The original intel we got from our employer indicates heavy LRM and quad-cannon presence. We would rather all our 'Mechs reach the ground in the same condition they leave the dropship in.”
Ray leans over towards me and actually whispers this time, “be careful of the LRMs, you don't have an anti-missile system on that 'Mech.
While I wonder why I don't have one, I remember in yesterday's sim how quickly I got into trouble from missiles and promise myself not to let that happen again. “Thanks,” is my barely audible reply.

….........

“Ok, all except Lt. O'Brian report to your 'Mechs.”
As he rises, Ray pats me on the shoulder and says, “You'll do ok. Trust your dancing and don't stop moving under fire.”
“Thanks.”
We have been given a lot of technical details, most of which have made no sense to me, in the last fifteen minutes. Now, as almost everyone leaves the room, I am left with just Captain Howard and Colonel Greer walking towards me.
The portal closes and they turn a couple of chairs around to face me.
Captain Howard starts, “I think you're still confused, and I completely get that. We want to distill your instructions to something that won't overload you, Ok?”
Colonel Greer nods and seems to evaluate my expressions.
“Yes, sir,” I answer.
“There are really four things we need you to remember to do: seek, observe, report, and run away. On touchdown, you need to head north to within a kilometer or so of the route we marked. Oh, use this control to upload to and update your cockpit battlemap and the comm sequences we gave you. Anyway, once you are there, you will probably need to keep heat detection up, at least unless you are out into the daylight.”
I nod.
“If you do not already have contacts at this point, move parallel to this valley, trying to stay between 800 and a thousand meters from the center; this is where we anticipate the convoys will be moving. Go no farther than this waypoint,” he says while tapping his compad; a bright gold icon appears on my battlemap. “Unless you have found enemy 'Mechs or other military targets, do not use your comms. If you do get this far without contacts, find a place to observe from and wait. Be sure to try to obscure your 'Mech if it comes to that.”
Again, it seems all I can do is nod.
“If you observe military targets...”
“Like 'Mechs or tanks?”
“Yes, but also groups of tankers or transport trucks with unknown cargo.”
“Wouldn't they have 'Mechs or tanks with them?”
The Colonel answers this time, “we can not really assume that. If it is a trap, they might use them as bait.”
“You mean like in that Liao book?”
“What?”
“Art of War.”
He laughs, “that book is about three millennia older than the Capellans. But yes, he does address using bait... and we must be careful to be aware of it, because it may help us find where the real threat lies.”
Captain Howard resumes, “So, if you observe military targets, call in the location and unit composition if you can.”
Colonel Greer picks up at this point, “now this is important: if you come under fire of any kind, retreat along this line...” A gold line along what must be a ridge is drawn as I watch my compad. “Notify us that you are running, and we will try to make for the same line. If you have to keep going, circle west before you reach this mountain range, use this river if you need to hide. Head back to our main staging point here.”
I look at this, then back up at the Colonel. “is that really likely?”
“I don't know, Paddy. Things are not what they should be, and you are a lot less experienced than I would prefer. If Joe were here, Marty would get the assignment and I would leave Joe to “guard the dropship”... having you on this means I can keep Marty for the main group and increase our strength.”
I nod.
“The other thing to note is if we call for you, I will send your 'Mech a waypoint. Make your best time to that, we may well need help there.”
Captain Howard offers, “even if you are not able to fight effectively, you can serve as a distraction... because they do not know how experienced you are. Better to dance than try to get a lot of damage, Ok?”
“Yes, sir.”
They both rise and I suddenly understand I should, too.
Colonel Greer's stare is intense. I meet it and he finally nods, “you'll do, Lieutenant. You'll do.”
Out of instinct, I salute and they both return the gesture.
“To your 'Mech, son.”

(edit: for spelling)

Edited by cmopatrick, 28 December 2012 - 07:25 PM.


#23 cmopatrick

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Posted 31 December 2012 - 09:53 PM

I have done all I can alone. I climb the stairs and walk out along the gantry access closest to the 2x. Across the isle I see Marty climb into his Wolfhound and Mike hooking up his headset at the crewchief access point. Part of me is wistful at missing the job I know so well and part of me is just feeling alone without someone at my 'Mech leg hooking up to talk to me.
I hear rapid footsteps behind me and pivot to see Captain Howard turn onto my stretch of metal with something in his hands.
Almost apologetically he starts, “We are really short on sidearms, Joe's are impounded and we don't even have enough laser pistols for all the other pilots, so...”
He opens the case he is holding and pulls out a semi-automatic pistol of some kind. “Have you used a ammunition type pistol before?”
“Yes, sir, well, at least some. Da occasionally let me use one of our 8mm on rats and bogsies.”
“That will do. This a bit bigger than your eight, with a bit more kick; it's a 10.8mm magna with armor piercing depleted uranium core rounds. It won't kill a mech, but will punch through most body armor. If we end up assigning it permanently, we'll get you some range time with it. For now, while I hope you don't need it, it won't do to send you out there unprepared. Oh, and wear it, don't hang it up somewhere... if you have to eject, it won't do to leave it behind.”
“This the safety, sir?”
“Yes. You have to chamber the round...” he demonstrates as he talks, “and clear the safety.” He pops the clip out, clears the chambered round into the case, then reinserts it into the magazine. “That all make sense?”
“Yes, sir, got it.”
He reinserts the clip and hands the weapon to me, along with a chest holster and four more magazines. As I sling the holster to its place and stow the clips in their pouches, I notice that he is still standing there with an odd expression... maybe part concern and part uncertainty.
“You really Ok with this, Paddy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Look, I wouldn't have wanted you out on your own if there was a better way, but I promise we will come to your aid if you get in trouble, Ok?”
I smile a little, “Thanks, sir. I'll do you proud.”
He seems to evaluate my face for a minute, then his demeanor changes. He smiles and nods, “Very good, Lieutenant. As you were.” With that, he turns quickly and is off.

I flip on the xl and hear that familiar hum start. Looking over the side, I can see Master Wolte at the foot of the Dragon, he is probably close to comeing over, but still talking with the Colonel on headset.
I hook the neurohelm to it's fiber harness and seat it onto my head. It only takes a few moments, but I feel that strange sense of the mech again... and I have to admit that I like it.
The 'Mech's cooling hoses are on the left side and match fittings in my suit at about waist-high. I snap the lock rings into place without a drop spilled... then flip the suit-conditioner on and feel at least a bit refreshed.
“Are you there?” I ask into the cockpit.
To my relief, the ai answers, “Yes, pilot, how may I assist you?”
“Can you run the walkout and combat prewalk check list?” As an afterthought I add, “please?”
“Yes, I can.”
I watch the displays, but nothing seems to be happening.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” she sounds so intelligent, but it seems she doesn't understand me.
“Well, it doesn't look like the prewalk is running.”
“You have not asked me to start it.”
What? “I thought I just did...”
“You asked if I could do it, not if I would start it.”
“Please start it.”
“Starting.”
Now I can see the systems checks going through their many blinking lights and hear on-board systems power up and, when appropriate, back down.
I think of every woman I have ever had the misfortune of being annoyed by, from me mum, God rest her soul, to Marcie in seventh year who insisted in making me feel like an absolute id-iot every time she came swishing and swaying my way. Now I get an ai that is as annoying? No wonder Joe was a basket case some times.
I try to push such thoughts out of my mind as I pull the harness webbing across my body and click the four buckles together.

“Do you even have a name?” I muse out loud, not really expecting an answer.
“No, at this time for this pilot, I do not. Nor am I aware of you having entered yours.”
“My name is Padraig, most folks call me Paddy.”
“If your name is Padraig, that will do. Do you wish to give me a name, Padraig?”
This is kinda unexpected. “Um, what should I call you?”
Over my headset, Master Wolte clears his throat, “ahmmm, are you there, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not a sir to you, now, O'Brian... but I'll let it slip until we know that it will be this way more permanently. Anyway, have you started the prewalk yet?”
This is where the ai choses to speak, “Yes, Padraig has begun the prewalk, approximately two minutes until ready for crewchief interaction.”
“Fair enough, I’m going to grab a drink of water, be right back.”
I hear a click, that must be the headset disconnecting.
Without missing a beat, the ai responds to my earlier question, “call me a name you can remember but one long enough that I can voice-print it with you; it will add a level of security to the 'Mech.”
There was this one girl I really liked just before I joined the GZR, Naomi Ebeneezer.
“Is Naomi long enough?”
“That would be sufficient. Is that your name for this ai?”
“Yes, Naomi.”
“It is done. Prewalk complete to crewchief interaction.”
I sit and listen to the many sounds and feel the balance my link with the 2x has given me.
“You ready up there?”
“Yes, si... Master Wolte.”
“Good. Visor down and seal.”
I flip the appropriate switch and the upper cockpit, with it's colorful control panels and heavy windows, lowers onto the pod seal rail. I barely feel the vibration as they meet, then the environmental controls start and I know I’m actually doing this.
“Prepare for cradle attachment,” Master Wolte declares.
“Naomi, open cradle latch ports.”
“Ports opened.”

I sense a bit of movement and look at my console. The cradle does not show attached and I still feel the gyros, I thought I shouldn't.
“Was that the cradle?”
“Who are you asking, Lieutenant?”
“Not sure, I thought I felt something move, but nothing sho...”
“Dropship took off,” he answers a bit impatiently. “Your insertion is about fifteen minutes out.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Now I feel a shudder and hear a dull thud... and I no longer feel the Raven. Indicators for the cradle latches go green and the time-to-deployment timer has just come on.
“Unlatching RVN-2X bay retainer jaws. 'Mech is in cradle jaws only.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Transferring your jaw control to the hot-drop OIC.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“O'Brian... er, beggin your pardon sir, Lieutenant O'Brian.”
“Yes, Master Wolte?”
“One last bit of advice... don't over think what you are doing. You're the smartest kid I have worked with in a long time, but you occasionally get into a kinda analysis-paralysis. You've been on this 'Mech a long time, I bet you know more about it than you think. Trust you instincts when the problem seems too big.”
Its quiet. I wonder if he means to say more and, well, I don't want to interrupt.
“Hang in there, Lieutenant. Try to bring her back in one piece, Ok? See you on the flip...” I hear that click again and the line is silent.

(edit: spelling and to include an alternate spelling for id-iot since the word police seem to think it's inappropriate)

Edited by cmopatrick, 31 December 2012 - 10:08 PM.


#24 cmopatrick

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Posted 02 January 2013 - 10:38 PM

The bay is flooded with a flashing red light and I can even hear the klaxon sound; it is the warning that we are about to hot drop 'Mechs. Anyone not in a 'Mech has thirty seconds to clear the deck or risk an unanticipated ride down... without a parachute.
I will be the last one dropped, Lt. Al-Zafirah will be first and Lt. Ames second. The rest of the 'Mechs and our rolling stock will land at our rally point and await contact. If either Lt. Ames or I find targets first, the remaining five will move to our positions to engage, only if Lt. Al-Zafirah is the one to make contact will the dropship launch again and deploy them much closer to her.

The flashing light goes red and the rest of the bay lights go out. I feel the shudder as the launch doors beneath the 3L open, then the shift in trim that tells me her weight has left us. The doors must close swiftly, I don't see the blue flame of her cradle exhaust ignite. To be honest, I have been in the launch control before for this, but never where I could actually see what happens once the bay is sealed for the hot drop.
Now... well... there is another shudder suddenly, and I just glimpse the Cicada's head as that 'Mech drops through the floor. I glance down at my counter:
Fifteen seconds. My heart races.
Fourteen. I look at my main systems, they are all green... will they work for me?
Eleven.
Ten.
Nine. I feel a panic.
Eight. What the hell am I doing?
Seven. This is a huge mistake!
Six. NOOOOO!
Five. I stare at the counter.
Four. There is an audible whooosh as the doors beneath the 2x open.
Three. I feel her settle against the cradle jaws.
Two.
One. My heart would stop...

Chuuunk! The jaws open and through the doorway I fall. The red light slides past my face with the floor and the night arrives, all darkness. I feel the wind try to twist me over to fall headfirst towards the oblivion below and my panic turns to mortal dread: my cradle is not working!
Suddenly, all about me is a faint blue light and I am no longer tumbling to the planet below. Liquid hydrogen from the cradle jets is rapidly sucking oxygen from the air and converting to superheated steam with hardly a trace of light, but the force is easy to detect.

Naomi startles me, “Cradle stable and operating normally at 53%, guidance confirmed, dropping at sixty-four meters per second and accelerating slightly, ten thousand meters to ground out.”
There must be nothing moving on the ground below, I see no lights or anything else. Well, I guess they could have spotted me and be already getting ready to offer an unwelcome greeting.
Part of me thinks I have completely lost my mind, but another part of me is unexpectedly quiet... no panic, no fear, not even anxious. I have crossed a Rubicon, there is no going back; I will do well or die. Even more odd... the part of me that isn't panicking seems to be winning my heart and mind. I sense that there is still fear, but it isn't terror... it is a sense of honest evaluation of danger, not an agony at the thought of it.
Again, Naomi speaks, “Cradle stable and operating normally at 57%, guidance tracking on target, dropping at seventy-three meters per second and still accelerating slightly, five thousand meters to ground out.”
I have a sense of coming out of a dream as I fall beneath what I now recognize are clouds.
Now there are distant pinpricks of light on the otherwise pitch black canvas stretched out beneath me. Not more than ten klicks ahead of me, I can't miss the several ribbons of lights; a quick check of the battle map confirms they are where the route is that our targets ought to be taking. I strain to see if there are mechs, but the zoom is nowhere near that powerful.
There are increased vibrations and it suddenly seems like I’m slowing.
Naomi confirms this, “Cradle touchdown sequence initiated, thrust approaching 100%, dropping at thirty-one meters per second and slowing, five hundred meters to ground out.”
“Thank you, Naomi.”
“You are welcome.”
I still can't see what is below me or... no, wait, there are trees blocking my view of the distant vehicles. Now trees near enough that they reflect the cradle's glow.
“Gyro control transferred to pilot.”
As she says this, I feel that sense of the Raven as part of me.
“Contact in five, four, three, two, one...”
I drop the last centimeters to the ground and the cradle unlocks and falls with a thud. I and the 2x are on the ground.

#25 cmopatrick

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Posted 04 January 2013 - 06:41 PM

What were the things I did yesterday in the sim... yesterday, could have been another lifetime... I can't let myself get distracted... what did I do?
“Naomi, crouch the 'Mech, please.”
“Yes, Padraig.” Her voice is soothing somehow.
Again, I have that strange sensation of feeling my legs bend and keeping myself balanced, but there is something fresh about it.
In the dark, I realize I can't really key in the combat diagnostic command.
“Naomi, can you run the combat diagnostic or do I have to key it in?”
“I can run it, sir.”
I remember how exacting her answers are and say, “Naomi, please run the combat diagnostic.”
“Running.”
The console begins to glow with indicators and lit buttons giving the cockpit an almost festive feel.
“Frame undamaged and ready,” Naomi's pleasant voice begins. The indicators continue through their test progression and she marks each component system when it clears.
Finally, she announces, “All systems go for combat.”
Above the windscreen, three safety switches have a faintly pulsing red light. I reach up and flick them to the “armed” position. The laser's capacitors begin to hum and there is a swish, clank as the SRM6 racks warheads into their launch tubes. I had never noticed, but in the quiet, I think I can even hear the TAG warming up... though it's charge storage is so small and it is so far out on the arm I have to wonder if I'm just imagining it.
Finally, “Naomi, please stand us.”

I feel the 'Mech rise up and finally start to evaluate where I am. It really is soot black right now, no moons or stars even attempting to break through the clouds. I remember the heat sensor and pull it up, but it seems that there are no real clues in it, just mottled gray and black. It takes a few moments to remember that there is a light amplifier, I flip it on instead and details in shades of green replace the chilly forest night's gray.
I am standing in a fairly small clearing, too many meters in almost any direction would have introduced me to one or more trees. Most of them are smaller, less than a half meter in diameter, but there are some larger ones that threaten to show themselves as monsters if disturbed.
The Battlemap shows that I am a good six klicks from the place the vehicles were moving. I wonder if it is a road of some kind, it would make sense with the kind of traffic I saw coming down.

The sensors are clean, my beagle reaching for the traces of 'Mechs or even metal, but not finding anything.
“Naomi, please turn the exterior mic on.”
“Microphone on.”
Nothing out there... well, I do hear what sound like peepers in the distance. It seems almost too still, until I remember that a thirty-five ton object just blasted down unexpectedly... do I expect a herd of marat to run out and dance around to welcome me?

“... Don't over think what you are doing...” I’m almost able to hear Master Wolte's line from not that long ago.
I must move, action must replace analysis. There seems to be enough space between the trees and I begin making my way forward. Through the headset I hear a titanic...
KRRRASHHH!
KKRRUNCCHH!
KKRRUSSSSHHH!
Terrified, I pull the throttle to zero... sweep the Raven's head back and forth... nothing out th... oh...
I sigh and, “Naomi, please turn off the exterior mic.”
At least the only “person” to know that I just panicked over my own movement noise is Naomi, and I do hope she won't try to entertain the rest of the team with a bloopers trivid when I get back.
Throttle forward and it's much quieter. Now if I can only get my heartbeat back to normal and my palms to stop sweating.

Step, step, turn, step step, step, turn... it's slow going, never more than about 20kph. I navigate carefully through the trees, both lesser and great. Some of these things are wide enough that I could hide the whole Raven behind them, and I can't even tilt my 'Mech's head back far enough to see their tops.
I can still hear the crash and crunch of bracken and fallen branches underfoot, but nothing that is alarming or annoying. I do try to keep looking in many directions, but nothing shows up.
On and on, it seems like landing was hours ago, even though the mission timer that started when we dropped Lt. Al-Zafirah has only just reached forty minutes.

Ahead a bright light winks on and then off... and on again... and back off...
again and again it repeats... is it a code? A message of some kind that I should recognize? We stop while I try to figure it out.
I zoom to full magnification, but they are so well hidden between the trees that nothing is recognizable. Switching to heat is no help, the forest is just gray again... no, there is a faint distant light blinking, but nothing like the beacon I saw before. Nothing on sensors, either. I flip back the the light amp and it just shines forth, unmistakable in its brilliance.
Well, I’m not going to figure it out from here, so I move on towards it.
Five paces further on, there is a second one, very close to the original, though it seems slightly offset, either blinking just before or just after. Again, heat and sensors show nothing, but at least the distant lights seem to exist. I wish I could ask someone, but breaking radio silence over this could ruin the mission... I need to just figure it out on my own.
It does seem like the trees are all smaller here, and the spacing more bunched. I move to my left around a sizable clump and the lights wink out completely. I try not to imagine all the possible things they can mean, but I also keep my 2x's head moving back and forth to spot any problem before it can happen.
As soon as I clear the thicket, I try to angle back towards the line I saw the lights on. All of a sudden, I see the outline of a not too distant notch between two steep descents and realize that there are vehicles moving past that notch maybe two kilometers out. A quick glance at my Battlemap shows that there are low ridges on either side... and the lights make more sense... I was seeing between the trees and out through the gap towards a road, vehicles moving made the blinking by only being visible through a tiny gap for just the moment it was opposite.
Another source of anxiety explained by newbie ignorance. I feel pretty dumb.
But I also don't waste time pitying myself, at least now I can do what I’m supposed to.

The gap is fairly level and plenty wide for me. A creek bounces merrily through with me and heads on to the nearby river.
Just past the gap, I can see a slight rise and move towards it. Up, I stride, and as I crest the top I realize that I am indeed about a klick out from what is obviously a fairly major road. I don't see any real concentrations of vehicles and there are no 'Mechs visible, either. I guess the cars and small lorries could be ferrying troops, but it would seem unlikely. There are a few tractor-trailers, but none that seem either bunched or cautious. If this were a convoy, wouldn't there be something more obvious?

#26 cmopatrick

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Posted 04 January 2013 - 10:15 PM

Unexpectedly, it seems like it's getting harder to see.
At first I think of a mist...no, the windscreen is being effected too... there seems to be a new sound just barely audible... ah, it is raining. I switch to heat and see the distant colors of the moving vehicles make a spotty ribbon in shades of blue. Sensors still have no indication of enemy presence and the Battlemap shows no reason to disbelieve them.
While the Battlemap is up, however, I notice the marker for the location I am to move towards if I have no contacts. I guess this qualifies as a reason to move, and I turn and head east in as straight a line as I can.

I have moved two kilometers so far, stopping four times to more carefully examine the traffic. There are few gaps between the ground clutter and I do carefully check the road when I reach each one. To stay in constant visual range, I would have to move very close to the road itself... I just hope I haven't missed anything. There are still about four klicks to go to reach my stopping point. Where I stand right now is a large field that runs the kilometer to the road... in daytime I would be obvious, but in this dark rain, I have no doubt that my mostly black paint-job is keeping me beyond the nightmares of the poor civilians in their vehicles.

“Contact.” Naomi says calmly just as a distant ping on my sensors goes red. Suddenly, there are three more in a rather broad line, all to the west.
I swing my head back and realize the contacts must be in the air... raising the reticule I lock one and see that it is an H-7 chopper. The other three all show the same thing, each Warrior is armed with an AC2 and an SRM4. They are moving closer, it almost looks like their formation is set up to search for something.
I wonder if I should run, no, they will probably be here before I can get away.
“Naomi, can we hide the 'Mech from them somehow?”
“If the 'Mech is shut down, it will be harder to detect on sensors. In this light, that might constitute hiding.”
“Shutdown.”
I feel my legs bend, then nothing. All the console lights blink out and I am left in the near dark and silence.
“Are you still there, Naomi?”
“Yes, Padraig. I am currently installed on this 'Mech, where else would I be?”
“I didn't know if you would still be running when we power down like this.”
“Yes, I am still running, ready to take appropriate action at your instruction.”
“Ok, thanks.”
“You are welcome.”

I think I can hear a distant thmp thmp thmp, the fast staccato of choppers flying low and slow. They must be fairly close to be so easily descernable over the drumming of the downpour the clouds have let loose. This really isn't likely to be their favorite weather to fly, maybe it will help me stay undetected in the dark.
There... I can see a blinking red taillight maybe halfway between me and the road. More faintly, I see two more. The third must be hidden by the deluge.
They have not turned, but are now far enough to the east that I can only see one taillight again.
Something seems different. The traffic on the road has all but stopped. Ah, looks like a cop speeding... no, wait, he isn't going very fast at all. There is a second, a third, now there is something large and dark moving between some of the lights. I try to zoom in, but the system doesn't work without power and right now, I worry that I'll miss something if I expose myself and have to run. Oh, I can see enough of it now to know it is a large tank, and there is a second one right behind it.
Now there are two tankers... and a semi with a box... another flashing light escort... another low rolling vehicle, but I can't make out what.
Suddenly, a shadow blocks out the lights, moving across my vision: a 'Mech. I imagine I can feel the ground shake. I try to remember my silhouettes, but it isn't one I normally see.
“Naomi, can you identify that 'Mech?”
“Do you want me to power on?”
“No, thanks.”
It lumbers on, I would guess it is halfway between the convoy and myself. Meanwhile, the convoy itself has more trailers and tankers, and more low rolling armor. I can't really see the 'Mech anymore, but I need to call this in, so I will have to risk it...
“Naomi, power on, please.”
“Powering on,” she says as the familiar hum of the xl begins.
“Stand as soon as we can, please.”
The console winks on and we are standing as she says, “Standing.”
The BAP engages and my sensors light with a steady stream of enemy units, all at 900 meters or more; I lock id as many as I can, turn and run for the hills behind me.

“Please open the command sequence, Naomi.”
“Channels open.”
“Contact, Lima Foxtrot 6 1 9. Choppers, rolling stock, at least one 'Mech on civilian highway with civilian traffic.”
“Approximate speed?”
I turn to look back at the roadway now a little over two klicks back.
“Contact.” Naomi announces.
“Not very fast. I need to go.”
There is an odd flashing in the sky... oh, NO, I'm being shot at! Turning, I run again. Across the ridge and back down towards the trees.

The rain has not let up and the unexpected happens: thrity-five tons of 'Mech speeds onto what turns out to be a thin layer of mud on fairly smooth stone... as I try to change direction, I discover that even with fancy technology, the laws of motion have not been suspended for my benefit.
It takes longer to describe than it does to happen... one foot already in the air for the next step when the other starts to accelerate faster than the Raven is moving. Like a beginner at skating, that front foot that was supposed to move backwards... well, it doesn't. Instead, my 'Mech does something approximating a flying kick, feet flailing in the air between me and the trees and the back of my Raven about to hit... BAAAMMMM... correction, has hit the ground. Naomi or other automated systems have tightened the strap webbing that holds my body into the command chair, but I most certainly feel it as my unrestrained bodyparts respond to Newtonian laws that my torso is protected from. Something breaks free and smashes into my right shin and my left hand is unexpectedly not on the throttle but trying to punch me in the eye. Something else hits my right hand and there is a sharp jarring pain at the ring and pinkie fingers. It's probably good there are not any weapons triggered by those two, but I can already tell they are not just bruised.
I seem to be sliding between several trees and slowing.
Thummmmmp. Everything is jarred and my injuries scream out.
I don't know why, some instinct perhaps, but I say, “Power down.”
Everything goes dark and quiet.
That was stupid, I think and am about to reverse the order when I hear the more animated thud of the helicopters over the more even drumming of the rain.
They are about to kill me, I know it. Any moment, I will hear the missiles coming or even just the banging of the AC2 flechettes ripping my cockpit armor to shreds.
I can hear my heartbeat, it is easily louder than their whirling blades. Maybe they are calling in their 'Mechs to take me prisoner. I feel my right hand and almost scream, there is something sticky, I can feel that at least two broken bones, and it is swelling very quickly.

Doesn't look like I’m that much better than Joe was after all...

Down comes the rain. This is heavier that “sheets” or “buckets”, more like “an ocean poured down on Paddy's 'Mech.” I imagine I can hear rivulets running around each side of the Raven's head.
I wish they would get it over with, the suspense is driving me bats.

It occurs to me that I no longer hear the choppers.
“Naomi?”
“Yes?”
Is there a 'Mech just sitting there waiting for me to show myself? Can I take the suspense of not knowing?
“Power up, please.”
“As you wish, Padraig.”
To my complete relief, the engine comes smoothly online.
“Damage assessment?”
“Frame intact, left arm shoulder socket damaged. Armor varies, center torso at 94%, left and right torso at 98%, right arm at 80%, left arm exposed or damage sensors inop, left leg 70%, right leg 97%, cockpit at 100%. Large Pulse Laser intact, Short Range Missile 6 tube intact, TAG shows power failure. BAP online, XL online, number seven heat sink has disconnected due to leak.”
“Please run the combat diagnostic.”

Well, I am now standing at the ridge line. My actual weapons are working, but I have no one to point them at.

The comms come to life, “Contact, convoy at Lima Echo 610. No choppers, two, no, three 'Mechs: Black Knight, Jenner, Mongoose; two assault tanks, 4 quads. Correction choppers inbound. Bugging out, will engage choppers at range.”

Edited by cmopatrick, 04 January 2013 - 10:24 PM.


#27 cmopatrick

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Posted 06 January 2013 - 05:16 PM

The comms have gone wild in the last five minutes, it sounds like everyone but Lt. Al-Zafirah and I are engaged. I would guess that they have the convoy I spotted first, not much for me to do here, is there?
Should I head back to the rendezvous or try to help them? I never actually came under any fire, so I guess I am free to stay out here, but should I wait or run to catch up? I could get behind the enemy and really mess them up... well... didn't the Colonel at the briefing say two convoys? Is there another one still coming? I wonder if there is some way to know without giving myself away.
“Naomi, is there some way to tell if there are other radio signals like ours out there?”
“I can scan for other comm signal or sequence use.”
“That works, would you do that, please?”
“Scanning.”
The Colonel was going to send me a call point if he needed me to come, but so far I don't have one. Did he forget? I guess I can move on towards the original stop point, at least I will be closer if they call for me.

My left arm was in fact peeled off by my slide a little while ago, and now I can feel just a bit of imbalance as I walk along. I guess I should be glad I didn't destroy anything more valuable, the left arms we equip this thing with are mostly just armor plates on a shoulder mount. Still, every time I notice the blackened indicator on my status, I feel foolish.

“There are two sequences that are in use other than ours.” Naomi's comment is rather unexpected, I had almost forgotten about my request.
“Can you tell where they are?”
“Yes, at least directionally. One is in roughly the same area our lances are fighting, but the other is coming up behind us fairly quickly.”
Behind us... I turn but the sensors don't have anything. I move to where I can see the road, there is little traffic, the road seems deserted. I guess that would make sense if the convoys are acting like roadblocks on either side. There is a small ridge ahead that juts out into the valley, almost to where the roadway is. I climb it and look back. Nothing on sensors, on a whim, I flick the heat detection on and the green world is replaced by gray... and distant blue. I zoom all the way and am sure those are 'Mechs!
One, two, three... I should call them... four... all still out of range for id and... five... something seems wrong, they seem to be moving quickly...
“Contact.”
I realize my danger... there is no convoy with them, they are running right at me!
Stick over toward the south, running through the rain.
“At least one lance plus one at Lima Foxtrot Six One Seven. Running,” I call over the comms.
An odd tone starts and I see the “Missile lock” indicator start to flash.
I dart left and behind the ridge. Running. Light Amp on. Running. Watching for slick ground. Into some pine-like trees, they aren't quite tall enough to hide me completely.
I splash across a tiny creek, feeling it tug at my footpads. A boulder shifts under the unexpected weight, but the gyros and I keep us upright this time.
Missile lock again, I swing into a stand of larger trees.
In the middle of the combat calls from the rest of our 'Mechs, I realize that one is repeating, “2X, ARE YOU ENGAGED?!”
“Running. Under fire. Can't talk.”
“Make for this mark!” I can't be sure the voice is his, but the icon flashes like the Colonel had told me it would.”
“En Route.”

I pivot for the rally point and realize I am starting a dance through the grove. Behind me, there are flashes and distant booms as if ordinance was doing damage... but I dare not turn for fear of ramming a tree in my flight.
“Naomi, is there still comm traffic behind me?”
“Yes, there appear to be five distinct signals within two klicks, the closest could be within five hundred meters.”
Great, right on my rump. I crest another small rise, there are trees behind me, but it is rather open for the maybe kilometer between me and where the river cuts across my path.
Throttle wide open, 113kph in moments... I’m trying to get there in a hurry without running in a straight line.
The battle map shows that there is a wide bend on my way to the rally, too wide to follow, I am going to have to cross it.

Almost there...
Booom...
No damage showing, “Naomi, was that a near miss?”
“Yes, Padraig. It would have to have been a gauss round, they are the only thing that would be traveling at the supersonic speed needed to create an audible shockwave.”
My footpads slam down the river bank and into the water. Rapidly, I am deep enough to leave only the cockpit and upper torso exposed, but now I am moving in slowmotion...
“MOVE!” I shout at the 'Mech.
“Engine at 97%, sir. You are moving as fast...”
“I KNOW!” I snap, and Naomi falls silent.
I turn to head more downstream and feel the momentum pick up.
There is a ledge of some kind; I unexpectedly step off it and am suddenly submerged. There is no jarring impact at the bottom, and while the gyros seem to have spun up to max, I don't seem to be in danger of falling over. Granted, I can't see a thing, but at least I am not being shot at... well, right now, anyway.
The rains are swelling the stream and silt fills my vision. Heat is no better, the water must be all the same tempurature. In the Battlemap I see that I have turned with the river to head towards the bend.
Thuumdd.
Something has hit me, but other than needing to overcome the force, it does not damage. Past my left windscreen, I see a glimmer of bark and hints of a branch... maybe two. The force is gone, and I guess it was just a log.
Turning against the flow, I pivot and discover that there are five contacts...
“Contact.”
None are really close, and only one is in the river.
If they can see me, what will they do? If not, what can I do?

Edited by cmopatrick, 06 January 2013 - 05:23 PM.


#28 cmopatrick

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Posted 07 January 2013 - 09:53 PM

The river pulls at me, tugging towards the downstream. How can I get away?
The Battlemap doesn't seem to offer anything more obvious than walking along the whole wide bend. Seems odd, but three of them are now moving the other way, not towards me at all. The map doesn't give me any clues... or does it?
There is a momentary brilliance that lights even me in my watery hole. What weapon was that? Several seconds later there is a deep rumble that permeates the channel and even the very hull of my Raven. No damage, I look somewhat up, trying to make out what could have done... a brilliant forking display of lightning illuminates the clouds overhead and the shadow of fish swimming many meters above me.

Along the river valley, the road used by the previous convoy crosses the river and makes a narrower neck of land before the highway again crosses the water. Perhaps that is the quickest way to join up with their already engaged units.
I look at that narrow graphic on the map, something from my reading in that Art of War book last night is playing with the edge of my awareness. The semis can't really move off-road very far or quickly... they have to cross the river... at the bridge. Words invade my awareness:
Appear at points which the enemy must hasten to defend; march swiftly to places where you are not expected. (VI:5)
    Do they expect me to head back towards them? On the other hand, the Colonel ordered me to a waypoint... well... did he actually order me?

    “Naomi, can you replay the last orders that went with the last rally point?”
    “Yes, I can.”
    “Please do so.”
    “As you wish, Padraig.”
    There is a moment of static, soon replaced by, “Make for this mark!”
    Their comm traffic is mostly calling targets... they aren't running my way yet.
    While I waffle, the three cross the river and seem to be moving rapidly towards our engaged units.
    Where do they expect me? What must they defend? Well, the convoys, but the bridge too, right? The Colonel wanted diversionary tactics... can I provide such without endangering myself or my orders?
    Those three could make the battle tougher for our other 'Mechs... but what would they do if they thought I was going to blow up the bridge? The time to stop analyzing is now.
    Over the comms I offer the cryptic, “out of danger. Moving to keep 'Mechs and second column disengaged.”
    I begin to move upstream. It is slow going, ever against the current. The two that had been on the shore tracking me back up, they think I’m going to try to attack them, I bet they want a clear shot. Will they know I really can't destroy the bridge...?

    The first three are almost out of BAP range when I actually pass my first two adversaries. Deep and muddy flows my shield; I can only make out their shadows through the rain-filled blackness. It still seems that they can't attack me directly... but both turn to stay even with me. One of the other three disappears off sensors. I may be moving at ten kilometers per hour, but I am moving inexorably towards the bridge. The second of three disappears. Less than five hundred meters to the bridge. I can't tell from the map if there are many pilings or supports, but I can tell that I am having an effect on my adversaries... the last of the three has stopped moving away. One of the nearer two is running to the bridge. That third 'Mech is moving back towards me as well, or at least towards the bridge. In the dark and the muddy swirlings, I am about ten meters under the surface... a lance of brilliant white stabs into the water in front of me, but the laser is too easily dissipated into steam and blown-apart silt. My complete experience of it is the light show and a small shock as ionized hydrogen from the water concussively burns. Missiles plow into the water and harmlessly slow and stop before they reach me, a rare few detonate on impact with the surface.
    They a coming back! All of them! By the time I am a hundred meters from the bridge, I am again facing five 'Mechs, albeit with me underwater and they above on the bridge or beside it. I admit, I’m worried that I have overlooked something, but right now they are all here and not fighting with the rest of the GZR. Through the dark I can almost make them out when the lightning flashes.

    A burst of flashes on the bridge, followed by sudden flurry of what look like AC2 fletchettes that boil into the water in front of me... I worry at the damage they must be doing... but there is nothing. They appear to have no more force when they reach me than if they had been thrown rocks... I hear them hit, but there isn't any indication of increased damage. A half submerged log drifts along in the current, it's presence announced by another violent bolt tossed across the heavens above.
    “Naomi, is there any traffic on their sequences?”
    “Yes, both sequences are active, but it appears that only these five units and some source back to our west are active.”
    “None east of us?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Any idea what they are saying?”
    “No, sir, but there are almost continuous signals from all five 'Mechs. If there...”
    An urgent call interrupts, “2X, Respond!”
    I glance at the Battlemap, then answer, “Have five 'Mechs occupied at bridge in Lima Foxtrot Six One Five. In river south of bridge, not taking damage. Will attempt to hold them here until you arrive.”
    It is quiet. In the silence I realize that there isn't anything else on the comms: no combat being ordered, targets being called, or damage reports.
    Ten seconds have passed.
    “Copy.”
    One of the five in front of me turns suddenly and sprints eastward.
    “One 'Mech running eastbound from this point. All others still holding position.”

    Lightning flashes and the river amplifies the thunder until the cockpit shakes. The controls and my hands seem instantly illumined, then cast back into the inky shadow that only my controls and indicators eventually dispel.
    More lightning... but colored this time? I wonder if...
    The four before me have turned and are running together off the west side of the bridge.
    Now there is an explosion that appears to be on one of them.
    Our comms come to life, “Target Echo, fire now.”
    I flick the Battlemap on and one of the five has indeed been lit up as Echo. They are all moving in an arc, facing away from me.
    “2X engage at will,” a voice calls and suddenly there is neither fear nor hesitation.

    (edit: added last paragraph, had missed it in the cut and paste... my bad.)

    Edited by cmopatrick, 07 January 2013 - 10:04 PM.


    #29 cmopatrick

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    Posted 13 January 2013 - 12:49 PM

    Throttle up. In the sluggish gloom it takes forever to reach the ledge that was so easy to come down... going up, however, is more than these legs can quite reach.

    “Choppers.” That is a woman's voice, cold as ice and simply informing them.
    “Echo down. L, get the choppers.” that must be the Colonel, but on comms that voice is different enough that I can't tell.
    “Copy.” Another woman, that sounds like Lieutenant Al-Zafirah from yesterday.
    Gamma is hot.”
    “Target Gamma, fire now.”

    While they are having all the fun, I am still trying to find a way out of the river. It makes me mad that... I step up onto something I can't see and gain the slight elevation... is it enough? Trying to keep my balance and turn while the current pushes against me doesn't work, the right footpad slips off of whatever. I know it is there, though, and step gingerly towards the spot again.

    “Two choppers down, column has two Demolishers, two Von Luckners, and four Partisans.”
    “Gamma is turning back.”
    “Target Foxtrot. Fire now.”

    I move a bit into the stream, trying to be careful not to lose my stepping stone or whatever it is. Facing roughly at the bank, throttle up, step onto the spot that should have my purchase... YES! Up and over the ledge edge with the next step! YES!!!!
    My excitement is short-lived, because I am still moving in something akin to first gear. Frustration replaces elation with the next lightning flash and a realization that our 'Mechs have crossed the river and are now fighting almost a half klick away against an enemy who seems to be rapidly retreating.

    “All choppers gone. Low on ammo, unable to take rolling at range. Engage column?”
    “No. Fall back...”
    “Foxtrot down,” interrupts.
    “to wing.”
    “Copy.”

    Finally! Out onto the bank I sprint, still sluggish as a ton or more of water gushes from every possible catchpoint. There they are! Now at 113kph, I’m pounding as fast as I can towards them.
    “2x, my wing.” That sounds like Ray.
    What was it he said to say... oh, “En Route.”
    “Column at two clicks.”
    “Copy. Two, Kill Gamma before they get here, independent after. One, target Delta. Fire now.”
    “Two, sub a.”
    “Copy.”
    “2x may not know how.” Ray again, I think.
    “Copy.”
    A different voice says, “Cancel two to sub a. One, sub a.”
    I am entirely lost at the chatter. Ray is firing at Gamma, so I guess I’m supposed to be firing at it too. Gamma is an upright-walking heavy 'Mech that I neither recognize nor want to waste time worrying about. All that matters to me is that it has one large laser that lashes out at us. I fire everything at it, expecting massive damage... but it never materializes.
    “Range, 2x.” That sounds like Ray.
    Oh, yeah. Out of range for my missiles and barely there for the Large Pulse... not to mention that I fired at an oblique and the up and down rocking the Raven gives me means that if it touched Gamma at all, it was just to warm it up.
    “Copy.”
    There is a brilliant flare that changes my view from greens to blazing white... Gamma explodes satisfyingly, but I can't see anything else right now in the visual overload.
    “Gamma gone.”
    My screen is returning to greens. I can see that four of our 'Mechs have veered off towards what I suspect is the approaching column. The remaining enemy 'Mech, Delta, seems to be looping back towards the river... with us in full pursuit. It looks like a medium, I bet we can outrun it if...
    “2x, stay at wing.”
    Oooops, kinda running ahead there. “Copy,” I say as I throttle back down a bit.
    “HB, split right.”
    “Copy,” Ray answers and angles almost in front of me. Moving to hold my place at his flank, I notice in the light amp that I can see blackened armor on his right leg and arm.
    Delta swings north at the river bank, back towards the bridge... and Hotel running across it.
    “HB! Pinch!”
    Ray swings his Hunchie back towards the fray and I see Delta and Hotel engage our Jagermech and Wolfie with flashes and explosions on both sides. We are not far...
    “Delta all.”
    300 meters. Straight on, my LPL slices out at Delta's nearest arm. Got it! Well, did damage, anyway. My rack of missiles boils from their tubes and misses Delta completely, but one does hit Hotel in the upper torso. Everything is firing at Delta... alphas from all our 'Mechs make it glow and there are several explosions. An arm disintegrates and chest armor seems to be flying as well.

    Hotel, however, has taken an interest in me.
    Four green beams lance out, bridging the distance between it and myself in a moment, my center torso armor glows and I hear that horrid TSSSSSS! As they vaporize more and more of what protects me.
    Duh! I've been running in a straight line! At what must be the last moment, I realize my error and swing my torso left. CT armor shows red, but the lasers never cut completely through.
    Towards the bridge, there is a sudden flash, followed by, “Delta down.”
    “2x to left flank.”
    I move behind Ray to his left. Hotel had corrected for my movement... directly into Ray's onslaught. The Wolfhound's ER Large reaches out at it and as I clear I fire too. This time the LPL misses, but I catch it full in the face with missiles.
    This time I see the cockpit pod ejecting just before the little 'Mech tumbles face down into the mud... it's momentum is so great that it slides almost to where we had been standing.

    But we are not standing there. We are sprinting towards the west, towards where the Colonel's lance must be engaged.
    “HB, take 2x and flank south to turn them.”
    “Copy.”
    I key up and add, “copy.”
    On sensors, I see the Captain and Marty pivot north.
    Ray's Hunchie hesitates at the crest of the small north-south spur when he realizes that the trees beyond are too heavy to run through while staying close to the road.
    “2x, lead.”
    “Copy.”
    I move south and head for the original ridge I followed. Staying on the north side, I comment, “Watch the mud, shallow on slick rock.”
    “Copy,” he answers.

    We are doing about fifty, and there to the north over the trees I can see flashes.
    “How far?” I ask.
    “One more klick.”

    Brush crunches and our 'Mechs pound on. I see a break in the trees and check the Battlemap. Yup, gotta turn, it will be a while until we have another.
    “Here.”
    “Copy. Once clear, take wing.”
    “Copy.
    It occurs to me that we should probably not have been talking while we did this... the thought coincides with a “missile lock” warning flashing on my console. Fortunately, however, trees offer their services to take my pain and I am unhit as we speed out from under the canopy. On the far side of the valley, I can see Marty's Wolfie spraying laser fire at traffic. Tankers and trailers transform into balls of fire that spread unchecked and glorious explosions that eliminate cargo. The tank that had fired missiles on me is trying to get Ray now, but he has missed the Captain's Jagermech and is suffering the consequences. Ray and I are also firing.
    “2x, VLs have AC20, stay out of range,” Ray announces just as a flash and BOOM announce that the turret gunner has taken a shot at me. At least this time I was not running straight, and I swing back to get out of range. The tank dies before I have to test his accuracy again.

    We are speeding up the line, blasting every tractor and it's cargo. I can see what seems like weapon fire ahead.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I notice line of public transport vehicles pulled up near the trees. Maybe I just have an overactive imagination, but I could swear I see hundreds of little faces in their windows.
    Ahead of me, Ray is taking evasive action, and I understand pretty quickly why... a pair of quads has opened up on us and before I can turn a lucky shot blasts down the bore of my LPL...
    “Large Pulse Laser destroyed,” Naomi states.
    No time to think about it... I keep dancing. Meanwhile, Ray and Marty open one of them up while the Captain's autocannons are slashing through the other.

    “Ceasefire.”
    “Copy.” is repeated seven times, including my own.
    The still is so sudden and complete that I am struck by it.
    Near a burning semi, fire is moving, I look more directly at it and zoom in... it is a person. Burning. My stomach churns unexpectedly. The person becomes a body. My nausea is overwhelming.
    “Canopy up!” I choke while ripping free the harness clasps.
    Naomi answers, “Raising canopy.”
    My helm is off and my head barely clears the Raven's cockpit before my stomach empties. Again and again, my insides heave as if to flush the vision from my mind. Rain splatters on my hair and into the cockpit.
    Naomi's voice on the cockpit speakers brings me to my senses, “Padraig, this cockpit is not designed for excessive amounts of water, you will risk damage if the cockpit remains open to the rainfall much longer.”
    I sink back into the command chair. “Close canopy, please.”
    “Closing canopy.”

    Edited by cmopatrick, 13 January 2013 - 12:50 PM.


    #30 cmopatrick

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    Posted 13 January 2013 - 03:39 PM

    The 'Mech bay is crowded, we have all been recovered, salvage is onboard, and there is a sense of excitement... well... all except at the far end of the bay where Colonel Greer, both captains, and Master Wolte are huddled together near one of the salvaged 'Mechs.
    I guess I should be glad for the downpour, the stench of my weakness is washed away before the 2x ever reentered the dropship.
    Now, with helmet off and cooling no longer flowing through my suit, I recognize that I am soaked with sweat. I wonder if there will be room in the shower...
    “Good JOB rookie!” Marty exclaims as he bounds over to me.
    Ray nods as he too walks up, “Yup, not too bad for a first timer.”
    I look up at the blackened nose and erased left arm. “Er, thanks... doesn't feel like I did any good and Joe rarely brought it back this bad.”
    “Thats because Joe never...” The words die on Ray's lips. “Look, you did what you were asked to do. Maybe even more than you were asked to do. I say it's good you are on the team.”
    Marty nods and grins.
    “They'll have the post-walk in about thirty minutes,” Ray continues, “better go get cleaned up.”
    “Yeah, and some food and a potty break,” Marty smirks conspiratorially.
    “Makes sense,” I reply and head down the gallery towards the crew quarters.

    The big mech is probably a medium, laying on it's right side with most of it's left blown off. Two techs are trying to get a secure crane attachment to lift it into a bay's jaws, but I guess it is bad enough that they are taking their time.
    Oddly, the Colonel looks pretty upset about something. Captain Howard is trying to argue some point that I can not hear. The other two seem absorbed in studying the wreckage.
    I pass by them, not close enough to hear, but near enough that Master Wolte sees me.
    “Lieutenant!” he calls out. “Wait!”
    It takes me a moment to realize that “lieutenant” he is addressing is me. When it does soak through, I turn to see him striding my way.
    “Lieutenant, your gear has been moved to officers quarters for Captain Howard's lance.”
    “Um, are you sure they are going to keep me an officer?”
    He smiles, “yeah, that's what I heard.”
    “Ok.” I respond. “Um, where are those quarters?”
    Pointing, he says, “somewhere back behind the 'Officers Only' door. You expect me to figure out everything for you?”
    Man, does that sound familiar. My curiosity gets the better of me and I blurt out, “what's with the 'Mech there? They all seem...”
    “It's a Hoplite,” he interrupts, almost preemptively. “It's kinda rare and we're concerned about where it came from, that's all.” The way he says this reminds me of all the times he has told me that something is none of my business. I wonder if this is the polite way he tells an officer the same thing without being insubordinate.
    I guess it is better not to make a big deal of it, “thanks.”
    We each turn our separate way, he to the knot of officers arguing over the blackened Hoplite and I to the mysteries of the “Officers Only” door.

    “Hey, Paddy, up here!” Marty hollers. I follow the sound of his voice and realize that I could have seen him if I knew where to look. I am near the lance common area I met with he and Ray in yesterday. I clomp and stumble my way up the steep stairs to see him waving me into some kind of office. There doesn't seem like there would be much room up here, and I’m right.
    Well... actually...
    “Home sweet home. According to staff, they moved your stuff in about an hour ago... guess the Colonel is satisfied.”
    “Jix.”
    “Don't sound so excited.”
    “Is this an office?”
    “It's your quarters. That is a fold down, that is a study station with tech and tactical library, and that is... ooops, forgot to move that.”
    He reaches out and picks up something small.
    “This was my room... you know, bottom man on the list. But Ray got Joe's old digs, I get his, and you, my friend, now being the new bottom, get this!”
    I have had larger closets growing up, but after the cramped chief quarters it seems a lot more like a mansion.
    “Cool!”
    “That's better.”
    “Hey, any idea why a Hoplite would be a big deal?”
    “A what?”
    “Master Wolte said the 'Mech down at the end of the bay is a Hoplite.”
    “The one they are powwowing over?”
    “Yup.”
    He points to the study area and its over-sized touchscreen, “Don't know, but you can check it out on the box.”
    As I move past him, he adds, “might get a shower first, not sure how to tell you this, but you stink right now.”
    “Oh, yeah. Um, where?”
    “This way.”

    I have torn through my steak as if I hadn't eaten in a month. It was actually cooked exceptionally again, if I had room I would have another. Nothing else on the plate; certainly none of the formed meat paste, vegie paste, fruit paste, or cheese paste that they more than occasionally foist on the lesser crew.
    I think I have a few minutes left, maybe brushing my teeth would be a good idea.
    Captain Howard opens the door, sticks his head in and says, “postwalk will be delayed. We will let you know when it will happen.”
    He is gone before any of us can respond.
    Ray looks back and forth between us with an indecipherable expression. Marty, however, sits with his mouth open and a look of disbelief.
    “So, that's not normal?” I ask.
    Marty shakes his head, no words attempt to break his shocked expression.
    “No, Pad, it isn't.”

    Edited by cmopatrick, 13 January 2013 - 03:41 PM.


    #31 cmopatrick

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    Posted 14 January 2013 - 05:46 AM

    Lora and Gloria are at the quartermaster's as I walk up.
    “The specs make it to be a BL-6b-KNT, with BAP and good communications gear.”
    “And the Colonel is passing up a heavier 'Mech again to let the Captain have it?”
    “I don't know that. Master Wolte has just said he wants me to work...”
    Lora stops talking and looks up as I approach the counter. Gloria seems unsure what to say or even how to act and Sonya stands at her desk and salutes.
    I hurriedly look behind me for the officer and hear two of them laughing. When I see no one close, I get that sheepish feeling and look back at them. All three are saluting now and I do a little less than formal return of the same.
    “Look, it's just me.”
    “Yes, sir.” Gloria says and the distance I felt this morning grows again.
    “Yes, Lieutenant, but things have changed and you have to understand that, too,” Lora states while the other two nod solemnly. She continues, “You are an officer now, Lieutenant. We can be informal with our own pilots if they allow it... you know that... but since none of us is assigned to work with you... well...”
    She is right, I know it. Still, I never thought being a pilot would seem so... so... so suddenly lonely.

    Behind me, someone clears his throat. I turn to see Master Wolte with an appreciative look. We all acknowledge him and he too does a quick salute. I return it and he smiles.
    “We'll get you used to it soon enough, Lieutenant. Ok, since you are all together, let me bring you up to speed on a few changes.”
    We all nod... well, I have my back to Sonya, so I just assume she is nodding too.
    “First, Lieutenant, I presume you are over here to requisition what you need to make repairs on the 2x.” I nod and he continues, “well, you no longer need to do that. Anne from Lt. Al-Zafirah's 3L will assist me in supporting your 'Mech until we can arrange for a qualified chief to take your place.”
    I must have an expression he approves of, because he smiles and says, “trust me, I know you want to work on her, but this is best for everyone.”
    “Yes, Master Wolte.” I feel like my purpose in life is stripped... again. Bet I get bored with doing nothing pretty quick.
    “Sonya, the Lieutenant no longer has repair parts privileges except in extreme need.”
    “Yes, Master Wolte.”
    “Lora, you are the best we have for tuning the hot rigs. Colonel Greer is taking the Black Knight, which is an all energy command 'Mech worthy of his rank and skills. I would like you to move over to become his chief, at least for now.”
    Lora looks thunderstruck.
    “Both Colonel Greer and Captain Howard are fine with this.”
    She still looks like you had told her she was being punished for something she didn't do.
    “Besides, that frees me up to work more closely with the Captain's lance... where I will have both the Jager and the 2x.”
    Gloria exhales, “ohh...”
    Lora suddenly seems to understand and, while not really smiling, takes on a positive expression and nods in agreement.
    “And while you are rebuilding her, I will assist all I can, especially with any cannibalizing from salvage or the Dragon.”
    She nods and almost succeeds in looking appreciative. If I read his expression at all, he understands and is letting it go.
    “And you, Gloria, can go and spread all the juicy new to the rest of the chiefs, as if they would not find out soon enough.”
    I don't really need to look, I know that Gloria's face is both excited and a bit embarrassed. We all know her reputation as the quickest way to find out what is happening on deck.

    Master Wolte looks back at me, “Lieutenant, will you come speak with me for a few minutes?” He gestures out into the bay; I nod and we walk out side by side.
    “The Colonel and captains are going to be busy for a few hours, so let me offer you some ideas until they can further or replace them.”
    We turn to face each other, not quite out on the gallery walkway, but not really anywhere else. It has been a long time since he spoke with me like this when there wasn't something I needed to do or needed to undo. For a moment, it reminds me of granda when he was about to explain something to my ten cycle old self.
    “I have already heard that you did very well for a first time, but that you also got lucky and need all the practice you can get. While I can not order you, I would strongly suggest that unless you are eating, sleeping, or at briefings...” he thinks for a moment, “or on missions... that you be in your cockpit running drills. It is what most of the good pilots do. Not just here, but of the dozens I have worked for and with, the good ones all spend a LOT of time in their cockpits between walks running drills and sims.”
    I remember Ray saying something almost exactly the same, Marty, too. “Well, is she ready enough that I can get at it while we wait for the postwalk?”
    He smiles and says, “Good lad... er, begging your pardon, sir... and yes, I have already gone over your cockpit and am certain that you can drill and sim run in her while I do repairs.”
    “Thanks Master Wolte.”
    “You can call me Hanse if you rather.”
    “Only if you call me Paddy again.”
    “Too informal. I'll do Padraig, though.”
    “Ok, thanks... Hanse.”
    He smiles, "Bargained well and done, Padraig.”

    (edit for spelling and spacing)

    Edited by cmopatrick, 14 January 2013 - 05:58 AM.


    #32 cmopatrick

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    Posted 14 January 2013 - 10:55 PM

    The anesthesia and pain killing shot are finally starting to wear off. My right hand throbs through the wrappings and while they have been neatly set, the broken hand bones want nothing more than complete reintroduction to the numbed state of the past few hours. It is also obvious that they decidedly do not want to keep holding a stick while I do drills.
    Gotta be tough, like granda's old stories about life back in the day... way back in the 2990s.

    I am working on the forth lesson in the basic series, titled “Dancing in the Streets” by someone with a sense of humor... a near oxymoron considering the serious nature of the material. My 2x is stripped of weapons as a default and I am just trying to stay alive to escape a cityscape filled with all weights of 'Mech bearing mostly impossible unlimited-ammo ballistic load-outs. I'm starting to wonder if anyone can last more than the forty-two seconds that is my best so far... much less to the hinted “level two” through “level seven” that the score screen holds columns for.
    Naomi is, however, helping me in ways a dedicated trainer might... we are going back over the last thirty-one second romp... or is that beat-down... (sigh) never mind...
    “Repeated misjudgment at 0:23.42,” she says without accusation. “Similar to previous three attempts to turn randomly while torso twisted left.”
    At this point we are actually reliving the last run-through; it has come out of pause just at this time-frame, but slowed to one tenth normal speed.
    “Notice that while your torso turn is left more than fourteen degrees, your 'Mech never veers right of plane.”
    An overhead outline of the Raven shadows and illumines the point, and indeed, it is obvious that I never really turn back to the right from this configuration.
    “This gives a skilled enemy gunner an increased chance to anticipate your next position and fire for damage that you walk into.”
    Yes, there I go... trying to spread damage and setting myself up for a twin gauss sniper who turns my cockpit into an animated ejection sequence just as the timer reaches 0:30.58.
    “Do you have any questions on this run, Padraig?”
    “No, Naomi,” in my mind I know this is an ai, but I know I still sound sheepish and a little embarrassed as I answer her.
    “Are you ready to try again, Padraig?”
    “Yes, Naomi.”
    A random street scene materializes with a mighty Atlas at the end of a street about four blocks away... facing me... menacingly...
    “Start in five, four, three... pause for incoming comm signal.”
    “Padraig? You there?”
    It sounds like Ray. “Yes, sir.”
    “Good. Practicing, I hope.”
    “Yeah, 'Dancing in the Streets'”
    “Excellent choice. Anyway, take a break, we are finally going to have the post. Briefing in ten minutes. I get a feeling we may be in there a while, stop at the facilities if you think you might need them in the next hour or two.”
    “Ok, thanks.”
    Naomi comes back on, “Start in five, four...”
    “Cancel, please.”
    “Run canceled. Would you prefer a different drill?”
    “Exit trainer please, Naomi.”
    “As you wish.” Her voice is so simple and direct... even desirable; there are no undertones of agendas or emotions undecipherable, no sense of awkwardness or immaturity rises when I interact with her. As I pull off my neurohelm, I realize that I already wish she were a person, maybe I could enjoy being with her... or at least not feel like an id-iot tripping over my own words while trying to talk with her.

    In the hallway it seems we have all arrived at the same time... well, almost.
    “Lieutenant O'Brian?” a woman's voice behind me calls.
    “Yes?” I turn and realize that it is Lt. Al-Zafirah striding up behind me. I hastily add, “Ma'am?”
    “If you will permit me, I would like to sit with you during the replay. I may be able to ask questions about your choices or offer pointers that may assist you in evaluating the action. I would also be able to point out reasons for my own actions that you might miss, but that might assist you as you learn. Is this acceptable?”
    We have reached the briefing room doorway. I pause to allow her to pass through first and she looks at me strangely.
    “What?” I ask.
    “I know your cultural courtesies are rarely used, but is this not a gesture of respect?”
    “Yes, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah, it is.”
    She nods, enters before me, and I follow her lead to a couple of seats on the left side with a good view of the panorama of displays at the front.
    “Would you be offended or inspired to behave inappropriately if I allow you to call me Fatima?”
    That seems an odd turn of phrase.
    “Not sure what you mean by that 'behave inappropriately' bit, Ma'am.”
    “I know that many men in your culture presume an attraction when a woman invites a less formal interaction, as if perceived casual use of an individual's name represents or invites equally casual physical interest.”
    While I know what the words mean individually, I have no idea where she is going with this.
    “Have I offended you somehow, Ma'am?”
    “No, you have not,” she says, then flashes a dazzling smile while folding her arms across her chest. “I would rather we speak with each other, Fatima to Padraig, if and only if you understand that I am not attracted to you or implying I would like any more than to be a friend, teammate, and possible mentor. If nothing else, my beliefs forbid anything more.”
    Oh, now I get it. “Um, sure, Ma'am.”
    “Fatima.”
    “Oh, er... I'm Padraig.”
    “Yes, Padraig, I know.”
    I wonder what is the right way to respond. Finally, the best I can do is, “I'll try not to let you down, Fatima.”
    “That will work admirably, Padraig.”

    (edit to add "id-iot" override to the ultra sensitive political correctness word checker)

    Edited by cmopatrick, 14 January 2013 - 11:33 PM.


    #33 cmopatrick

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    Posted 17 January 2013 - 11:18 PM

    As I settle into my chair, I notice that Colonel Greer is sitting alone against the long counter that frames the room's front border. He looks tired and old... and is dressed in something unusual... I can't quite make it out as he is rather hunched over and the light isn't great up there... but it isn't the black with gold trim combat gear I have seen so often. It looks like an old abused leather combat, black or brown with red trim, but distinctly, even at this distance, a leather that has seen better days and perhaps a few sizes fewer at the waistline.
    In a diminished voice, he instructs the ai,“Tsaris, please record now.”
    “As you wish, Colonel,” the ai answers him.
    He shifts and I see that the coat is emblazoned with the snarling wolf's head emblem of Wolf's Dragoons.
    “We have a lot to talk about, team,” he starts in a somewhat stronger tone. “Rather than do this haphazardly, let me break down where I think this meeting needs to go. First, we need to review the mission. There were some interesting things happen and we all need to be able to appreciate them in context. Second, we have some formal business, that won't take long, but it is appropriate at that point. Third, we need to provide you with some missing information that will give you a better understanding of just exactly what we think is going on. Finally, we need to assess what all these pieces mean to us, not only for any further missions here, but as a unit going forward.
    “I reserve the right to ask that anything we might start to discuss or any applicable questions be deferred to any given point where I deem them appropriate, but I promise that we will get to them before the meeting is finally adjourned. We will take a break,” he smiles as if he knows what we are thinking, “between the sections, but if you think you need one before we review several hours of mission material, please take a minute and resolve those needs now.”
    I guess everyone is already prepared.
    Fatima reaches over and touches my sleeve. “Turn your compad on,” she whispers, “some of the pointers and issues are displayed on that.”
    “Tsaris, please power the projections.”
    “As you wish, Colonel,” the ai answers him and the wall across the front behind him is paneled with a large map and six... no... eight different views. One of them seems familiar... ah, the helmet recordings for all eight of us.
    “Standard breakdown. Lt. O'Brian, since you haven't done this before, we have a map covering the mission and engagement area that will show our sensor data overlayed into a whole,” he points to what looks like a zoomed out Battlemap, “and visor recordings from each active pilot or unit. If we had had a UAV or tactical satellite observation, that would also be displayed as appropriate within the action, but we do not include rolling stock or UAV if they are not engaged. If at any time you see something in any of the pilot's actions or on the map that you would like explained or examined more closely, we can zoom to see just the one recording in question or into the map until the issues are resolved.”
    “Thank you, sir.” It is all so new and I feel like a kid at an adult meeting... what else can I say?
    “Any further questions?”
    All of our heads are obviously shaking “no”, so as he sits down he says, “Tsaris, please start the replay.”

    “What the heck?” Someone near the front of the room says loudly. It is early in the mission and there are still only three active visors, Fatima's, Lt. Ames, and... er... mine. I kinda hoped they wouldn't stop quite here, but...
    “Pause,” Colonel Greer says with what I can only presume is a chuckle. “Let's take a minute to have a little fun with this one. Lt. O'Brian, would you care to narrarate this one for us?”
    “Um, do I have to sir?” I ask while trying to grow smaller in my chair. “I um, suspect what happened is kinda obvious.”
    “Well, I suppose. But, of course, for it to be completely obvious without commentary, we should zoom in to your recording and rewind it just a bit... what do you think?”
    “Can I hide under my chair while you do it?”
    Everyone is laughing. Maybe we all needed the tension released a bit. Heck, even I am laughing at the thought.
    “No hiding.” He states with a smile, then, “Tsaris, would you zoom on the 2x, rewind about twenty seconds, and add an additional flow from 'Mech telemetry for a third person animation, camera behind and just above the 'Mech as it travels?”
    “Yes, sir. Buffering...”
    In the silence, I wonder if I can slip out unnoticed.
    “Animation complete.”
    “Thank you. Tsaris, would you please replay at one quarter speed?”
    “Yes, Colonel Greer.”
    Beside my visor view, there is a screen with a much rougher environment but what appears to be the 2x seen from just behind and above it. Both frames move, slowly, inexorably towards the moment where my traction was not as good as I had assumed it was. There in glorious high resolution animation, the little Raven goes horizontal, flies some distance through the air (further than I had thought at the time), slams into the ground, and slides between trunks to it's inglorious rest at the foot of a giant tree.
    “Ok, pause please, that's enough.”
    Mercifully, the playback stops. It is at this moment that I realize everyone else in the room, even Fatima beside me, is at least trying to control a chuckle or laugh...
    “Lt. O'Brian, do you have any comment?” the Colonel is trying for all the world to sound like this is a serious question, but he obviously shares the perception that this is horribly funny.
    “Um... I fell down?”
    Pandemonium. Everyone is now laughing so hard that there are tears starting on several faces. Marty actually falls to the floor and is rolling around in hysterics. Ray comes over to me and reaches out in an obvious desire to shake my hand. He can't get a breath to explain why, but we shake and he walks back to his chair still laughing almost uncontrollably.

    It has been almost two minutes and still... well, now the Colonel finally raises a hand and intones, “Ok, we needed that. Thank you, Lieutenant, that was just what the doctor ordered. We have all been in a situation just like that at one time or another, let's let this be the once we laugh with you, lad.”
    “Um, yes, sir.”
    Around the room, the mirth is subsiding.
    “Tsaris, standard breakdown again and resume replay, please.”

    “Stop please.” That is Ray.
    “Yes?” Colonel Greer asks.
    “Sir, on Pad's replay a few seconds back, where he looks back over his shoulder... there are five 'Mechs in pursuit.”
    The screen backs up to where I am indeed looking back at the five before I crest the ridge to run for the riverbed.
    “Sir, they had two lances, correct?”
    Beside me, I hear Fatima, “mmmhhmmm,” she indicates and from the corner of my eye I see her nodding in agreement.
    “Yes, Lieutenant, they did.”
    “And yet they broke five and three... almost like we did.”
    “Very good, Lt. Jordan. But before you ask the next question, I wish to defer this part of the conversation for a while.”
    “Yes, sir.

    Edited by cmopatrick, 17 January 2013 - 11:25 PM.


    #34 cmopatrick

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    Posted 18 January 2013 - 08:23 PM

    From where I sit, I notice Ray and Marty exchange a glance. I look quickly at Fatima and while she only meets my gaze for a moment, there is an intense sense of expectation reflected there. Our eyes are all quickly forward as the playback resumes.

    It hasn't been going even a minute when I say, “Stop, please.”
    I hope I haven't interrupted incorrectly, but everything stops and Col. Greer looks my way.
    On the map at the very top there is what looks like a light reddish semi circle...
    “Yes, Lieutenant?”
    “Sir, I’m sorry that I don't know, but what is that red circle thing at the top near where you are fighting?”
    Beside me, Fatima says quietly, “Very good, Padraig, I was just about to bring that up.”
    From the Front, Colonel Greer has had Tsaris zoom in some.
    He looks us all over and says, “I hope that more than two of you caught this as it started.”
    Zoomed in to a battle level, it is much more obvious. It's almost like it was hovering at range to observe the battle... and now I notice that we have a unit rather closer to it than the others... 3L... Fatima's Raven.
    “Lieutenant Al-Zafirah,” he begins, “would you care to offer some insight?”
    “It is how my Beagle represents an ECM field. There was a third Raven out there, there are no other 'Mechs with the recovered tech yet in production. I checked when we got back and no current records show any known SDLF units that the tech is known to have survived on. There were assault and scout SDLF units with it, but nothing appears to have survived the Successions. It has to have been a Raven.”
    “Why?” I ask, but it is out of my mouth before I really think about it.
    She looks over at me, not quite dismissively, but not appreciatively either.

    From the front, Colonel Greer takes this moment to speak up, “Lieutenant Al-Zafirah, maybe this would be a good moment to explain where your 'Mech came from and how special it is. I am sure there are others who have also wanted to know.”
    She takes a deep breath, “Several years ago, I was involved in a mercenary action opposing what the CCAF euphemistically called a 'counter insurgency'. I was a deep scout and spotter running a BAP equipped 'Mech when I noticed an odd field indication on my Battlemap... one that matched what you see here,” she gestures towards the display up front. “I was able to discover it's nature. After spotting the 3L and then feeding it misinformation, we surrounded and captured it.”
    “Captured?” Lt. Ames asks rather incredulously.
    “Yes, we arranged for it to walk into a trap that tangled it's legs. My commander rewarded me with it once we understood exactly what it is... seems he felt that I had contributed to the mission the most, that I was the best deep scout, and that I might be able to use their tech against them. At that point the 3L was still exceptionally rare, the ECM upgrade to the LosTec SDLF Guardian only being a year old. Even now, while there are records of Star League chassis variants with ECM, like the Atlas D-Dc, they are all extinct from the natural cannibalization that happens once the tech could no longer be repaired.”
    “But how can you be sure our current target was a Raven?”
    “Statistical likelihood. I just checked the main 'Mech chassis database on Terra; one thing it includes is a list of all known 'Mechs with all their known variants. Only the Raven shows it, though I imagine the Capellans are working frantically to make this dmuc more common. Since the ECM gear itself is still being ramped and there isn't a lot of stock to sell off, it is exceptionally likely that any ECM field we identify on the battlefield will emanate from a Raven 3L.”
    “So they had one that escaped?” I ask.
    Colonel Greer clears his throat. “Ok, we are again close to something we will be discussing at length very shortly.”

    “Wait, am I seeing that right?” That would be Marty.
    Again, the review stops.
    “If I see that correctly, the 2x visor and the Battlemap both show five 'Mechs standing there... shooting at him in the water.”
    “Very good, Lieutenant Kuti. I have already marked a point to back up to, let's watch this in isolation.” To the ai he says, “Tsaris, please replay zoomed to the Raven 2x visor from time reference gamma.”

    They see from my visor that I am back deeper in the river.
    My disembodied voice sounds, “Naomi, can you replay the last orders that went with the last rally point?”
    “Yes, I can.”
    “Please do so.”
    “As you wish, Padraig.”
    Some static... then, “Make for this mark!”
    Colonel Greer says, “Pause, please.” it does, and he continues, “Lt. O'Brian, why did you check on that, especially at this moment?”
    “I wanted to make sure I knew exactly what your orders were... well, so that if I did what it seemed I should... I could... er... do it without worrying that I wasn't disobeying orders.
    “And what did you think was needed?”
    “Well, I couldn't keep all five occupied with combat, I would have gotten cut down. And I remembered that you said yesterday that being underwater limited the weapon effectiveness. Oh, and there was that thing from the Artful War...”
    “Art of War?”
    “Oh, um, yeah... from the Art of War that said: Appear at points which the enemy must hasten to defend; march swiftly to places where you are not expected. (VI:5)
    “I figured that if I could get some or all of them thinking that I might be going to blow up the bridge, that they might move to defend it. Without it, they would have had trouble getting that convoy through. It just made sense to me.”
    “I want us to all notice this,” Colonel Greer says with an admiring smile. “Tsaris, please continue the replay.”

    We get back to the point where they are standing above me on the bridge.
    “Naomi, is there any traffic on their sequences?”
    “Yes, both sequences are active, but it appears that only these five units and some source back to our west are active.”
    “None east of us?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Any idea what they are saying?”
    “No, sir, but there are almost continuous signals from all five 'Mechs. If there...”
    An urgent call interrupts, “2X, Respond!”
    “Have five 'Mechs occupied at bridge in Lima Foxtrot Six One Five. In river south of bridge, not taking damage. Will attempt to hold them here until you arrive.”
    Silence descends.
    Ten seconds have passed.
    “Copy.”
    One of the five turns and runs east.
    “One 'Mech running eastbound from this point. All others still holding position.”
    “Stop, please.” The Colonel rises, perhaps a bit stiffly, and says, “this is the kind of reasoning and initiative that probably saved us from a much more serious fight. Let me take a moment and specifically say this was exceptionally well done, Lieutenant.”
    The room is still for a moment, then everyone applauds. I know from how hot my face feels that I must be flushed, but it feels so wonderful to have people I trust say I did anything exceptionally, much less this trick on the enemy.

    Edited by cmopatrick, 18 January 2013 - 08:29 PM.


    #35 cmopatrick

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    Posted 19 January 2013 - 09:57 PM

    “Stop, please.” Captain Stevens stands and turns.
    At first, in the somewhat darkened room, I don't realize she is looking at me, then it dawns on me that this is so. I have been trying to follow the mop up activities of the others and missed that this is where I lost it over the side in the rain.
    “You have learned something, have you not, Lieutenant?” Her question is not hard, nor is it emotional... her tone evokes a sense of compassion and realism at the same time.
    “Yes, Ma'am.”
    “That is good.” She sits back down and says, “resume, please.”
    Colonel Greer speaks up, “well, actually, we are close enough to done that we can stop here if that is agreeable to all.”
    Everyone I can see is nodding.
    “Ok, let's do a quick break. Back in fifteen. Thanks, all.” He appends to the ai, “Tsaris, please complete the replay and set for status review.”
    Most folks rise, but Fatima leans over towards me, “what was that about with the Captain?”
    “I saw someone burn to death and threw up all over the side of my Raven.”
    “Ah, first time, huh? Well, everyone in this room has probably had that experience. If it doesn't effect you, then I don't want to drop with you... the only ones I have ever known who were that cold belonged to Liao.”

    The halls seem both crowded and empty. Our trips to resolve needs are over and we are milling our way back to the briefing room. Marty is chatting with Ray, the Captains have their heads somewhat together, Fatima and Lt. Ames seem animated about something. I have passed a couple of the crewmembers, but I am a pilot now and they barely see me even when they salute. I wonder if I was as aloof... did I treat officers like they were a necessary nuisance when they passed me by?
    “Hey, Lieutenant O'Brian.”
    I turn to see Master Wolte headed the same way. It is he who has called to me.
    “Yes, Master Wolte, how may I assist you?”
    “You look older than you did a few hours ago, Padraig.”
    “Kinda feel it, Hanse. Yesterday when I got up seems like an eon and even this afternoon a century or two.”
    “Yeah, well, if anyone can make the jump, you can. Probably take a week or two until you can settle into a routine, but you gotta remember what I taught you about the routine: it is the discipline when it doesn't matter that will save you when the pressure is crushing and it does matter.”
    “Thanks, Hanse. I appreciate all the times you've helped me.”
    He smiles a little and nods, “I know, lad, I know. Thanks for telling me, though.”
    I am surprised that as I turn for the doorway into the briefing area that Master Wolte does the same.
    I must have a puzzled look, because he says simply, “I have a part to present, too.”
    Bet he briefs us on the condition of our 'Mechs and the salvage.

    “Ok, let's get focused, team,” Colonel Greer begins. “Next order of business is a proposal: I propose that based on his performance already we upgrade Lieutenant O'Brian's on-trial field promotion to a full commission as a pilot in our team and accorded the full rank due. Anyone disagree?”
    All around me, pilots are nodding and smiling.
    He motions “Front and center, Lt. O'Brian.”
    It seems odd that he is still in his Dragoons jacket, but as I walk to the front, I see him as our leader and someone I am growing to respect a lot.
    He smiles and almost quietly says, “Not one to be too much on ceremony, but you deserve to have something to remember.”
    I wonder if he means himself or me.
    He picks up a small case and opens it. “These bars are actually yours, not hand-me-downs from your predecessor. You have already proven the faith we put in you to be well placed. I expect you to work as hard at being a good pilot as Master Wolte insists you did at being a good crewchief. It is an honor as your commanding officer to welcome you formally to the ranks as an officer and Battlemech Warrior.”
    The small case in my hand means only a little, but his words mean a lot. “Thank you, sir.”
    I salute and he returns it. Turning, I realize that everyone else is standing and smiling.
    “Congratulations, Lieutenant,” Captain Howard says with a grin; his hand reaching out to shake mine.
    I think everyone else wants to offer the same, but the Colonel has other business to get to...
    “Ok, we can be friendly and congratulate the Lieutenant afterwards. Right now, I need you all to be seated... we have pretty serious stuff that we need to get to.”
    Most of the seats have been taken, it seems that the dropship's officers are in here as well. Marty appears to have saved me a place, though, and I move quickly to the open chair.

    At the front, there are four people: Colonel Greer, Captain Howard, Captain Stevens, and Master Wolte. Like the Colonel, all wear different gear than normal... the officers are in matching combat jackets and Master Wolte is in a dark coverall... all with the emblem of the Wolf's Dragoons.
    “Some of you have already made guesses about my history and that of these comrades, but let me give you a brief synopsis. We were all members of the Wolf's Dragoons at the time of the battle on Misery against Kurita. Two of us, Master Wolte and myself, were at it's... creation...”
    The pauses seem significant, but I don't know why... perhaps he is choosing his words carefully.
    “... in 3005. The next thing to know is that in 3008, the Dragoons fought against fairly green Mercenary unit on New Aragon called the Waco Rangers. The son of the CO died tragically, but they have held a grudge against the Dragoons ever since. Our small band of survivors from Misery escaped via a different means than the main group... took us a few years, actually...”
    The other three nod, their expressions hard to read.
    “... and rather that rejoin, we founded the Green Zone Riders. Since then, we have several times discovered Waco Rangers pursuing us. The one time they actually caught us was when we lost Colonel Green and two lances worth of pilots and 'Mechs. Are you with me so far?”
    No one moves and the room stays silent.
    “Now, we have no specific reason to believe they are involved with what happened this morning, but I have my suspicions. And what, many of you may ask or already have asked, happened with today's drop?” He looks at both captains, then resumes, “As Ray noted earlier, the units we dropped against broke into a pattern we have used ourselves: five and three, with the five being the main force. There appears to be a reason for the similarity... they were also a merc unit with Dragoon roots. Two of their 'Mechs were ones very specific to the Dragoons and our original...” he is choosing his words carefully again, “... cache of 'Mechs.”
    “Colonel Greer?”
    “Yes, Lieutenant O'Brian?”
    “Would that include the Hoplite?”
    He smiles. “Yes, Lieutenant, I noticed that several of you tried to query about the chassis already.”
    I smile and nod... and notice that Ray is doing about the same.
    “Anything else?” He eyes the room, then continues, “While I have been unable to establish who got the contract that they appear to be on or the size of the unit, I believe that they were brought here under terms we would have considered... as part of a choreographed attempt to weaken or destroy one or both of us.”
    “Colonel?” Fatima starts.
    “Yes, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah?”
    She looks a bit conflicted, like she isn't sure she should be asking. “How did they find you? Or us? Or them? We haven't visited Outreach since I joined up with you...” she seems to be thinking, “did you go there very often after forming?”
    “No, we actually only visited twice, and then only under an apparent interest in registering at the Hiring Hall. Truth be told, we have no idea how they seem to have found us before, or why they would know about us now. There are some ideas that perhaps someone in Comstar is providing intel, but I can see no hard evidence to support that. Does that help?”
    “Well, no, not really,” she admits.

    Edited by cmopatrick, 19 January 2013 - 10:04 PM.


    #36 cmopatrick

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    Posted 20 January 2013 - 05:02 PM

    Lieutenant Ames raises a hand, “Excuse me, Colonel, but is there a reason why we don't think these were pirates with old Dragoon salvage?”
    The Colonel inhales to speak... but pauses. “Based on what we know absolutely for certain: no, we can not rule out pirates having possession of those 'Mechs. We can, however, see tactics that require much better organization and unit cohesion than normal for pirates.”
    With this answer, Lt. Ames falls silent, but Marty's hand is up.
    “Colonel Greer?”
    “Yes, Lieutenant Kuti?”
    “What about their transport here? Is there a dropship? I thought jumpships prefer not to come this close to the periphery without paying customers. Do we think they were doing garrison work?”
    “All good questions... ones we are trying to find answers for even as we speak here.”
    Marty looks a bit concerned, “well, do we even know if the Waco boys are here on-world?”
    “No, we have no intel on them at all.”
    Again, Marty seems unsatisfied, but this time lets the issue go.
    Fatima, however, has a new avenue of questioning, “Colonel?”
    “Yes, Lt. Al-Zafirah?”
    “Has the mission contract for this last drop been paid?”
    “Yes, it has; by the way, all of the pilot accounts have been credited appropriately. Two more missions are being offered following the original planetary contract. That said, they are still promising intel in support without ever having lived up to that on today's mission.”
    Fatima's follow-on sounds apologetic, but it is blunt, “Begging your pardon then, sir, but it almost sounds like we have no more than thin circumstantial evidence that there is anything amiss.”
    The Colonel nods. “Yes, exactly.”
    This is obviously an unexpected answer to several of the pilots and even a couple of the dropship's officers.
    It is one of these officers, the ship's captain, I think, who speaks up next, “Colonel Greer, what is the nature of the concern then? Do you think the dropship is at risk? Should we not withdraw to orbit if there is something so serious to be worried about?”
    “No, Captain Amundsen, I believe the dropship is safe for the time being...”
    “The time being?”
    “Yes. Have you gotten a reply from the Marritan yet? Or any other jumpship for hire?”
    “Well, no, but we are way out here. Naval contacts take a while, you know that, sir. Besides,” he is just commenting, “that HPG software problem probably has things gummed up.”
    “Yes, I would imagine. Well, the dropship is your charge, if you think we need to be orbital for the time being...”
    There are groans all around the room, and I am one of the people making such.
    “... then by all means, we can do so.”
    The captain frowns, I’m sure he doesn't like life in orbit any more than the rest of us do. “I guess we will stay planetside... for the time being.”
    “Good. We may need to reposition, of course, but for now there seems little point.”

    The briefing room is silent. At the front, Colonel Greer and the other three are leaning against the counter top.
    It has been a minute of quiet.
    Finally, Colonel Greer asks, “are there any other questions, or are we ready to move on?”

    #37 cmopatrick

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    Posted 23 January 2013 - 08:49 PM

    “So that gives us five 'Mechs that are within an hour of ninety-nine percent,” Master Wolte is wrapping up his status report to all gathered. “and three more that need less than half a day. The most difficult, again, is the Black Knight, we are having to fab a significant number of structural parts from other salvage and spares; I would estimate that by this time tomorrow it will be ready for the Colonel to walk out. Considering it's weight, the Hoplite would probably be a candidate for armament changes as soon as we can afford it; the stock AC10 paired with a lonely LRM5 seems grossly underpowered for our likely uses. We have salvage SRM4 and SRM6 launchers that might be good replacements, and I think we can cannibalize enough parts from the streak salvage to build an operational unit if that is the preference. Any upgrades, however, delay it's availability for at least a few days. That said, Lt. Ames Cicada is currently more powerful and weighs less.”
    Colonel Greer nods, “Yes, we won't need that right away... no spare pilot for it.”
    Nodding, Master Wolte asks the room, “Any questions?”
    There really are none, the briefing room seems tense, the repair status seems almost an interlude before we get to... well... whatever is next.
    Unexpectedly, it seems, Captain Howard clears his throat and asks, “Any timetable on getting either of the UAVs up?”
    From here, it seems that everyone is nodding.
    “Well, unless you can get us into a stock of guidance parts and an aileron replacement, I have no timetable. We just can't repair them with stock on hand.”
    The Captain's face is notably disappointed, “Thanks anyway.”
    Marty and Ray seem especially restless.
    Colonel Greer concludes, “Thank you, Master Wolte.”
    “You are most welcome, Colonel.”
    Master Wolte rejoins Captains Howard and Stevens near the wall behind the Colonel.
    “Ok, quick break everyone. Be back in ten, Ok?”

    If anything, while the ten minutes may have brought one kind of relief, it has only made the sense of apprehension hang in the air like a thick spider web. Unlike the last break, no one is interacting, we are lonely little islands of thoughts and imaginings. Whatever dragons we need to slay, let's just get it out on the table... it can't be worse than what we are making it with our uncertainty... can it?
    “Let's come to order, people.” Colonel Greer doesn't look like he has moved and his expression, if anything, seems even more like a distant thunderstorm brewing soon to be felt trouble.
    We all settle into our places.
    “It would seem that we have four general options, with more buried within the details of each. First, we can return to orbit and continue to try to get a jumpship out here; in other words, abandon the contract and the planet. Second, we can return to orbit and try to use the dropship systems to gather intel ourselves; the intent being to answer some of the questions already raised... like where is the dropship or dropships.”
    Neither of these options seem to sit well with the faces I can see... well... except Master Wolte... and... maybe Colonel Greer.
    “The other two possibilities look at the contract mission options: another interdiction of supplies... this time supposedly only rolling armor; or what appears to be an airbase recapture, with no intel on assets on the ground. The latter has the advantage of our having salvage rights to anything... including any aircraft, manned or unmanned.”
    At the mention of the last mission, there seems to be growing interest.
    “If we are to do the interdiction, it needs to be tonight, but I don't think we would be sure to be at full strength by that time.”
    He pauses, I would guess he is watching our reactions.
    “The airbase can be done whenever, though I would suggest that urgency should be the watchword... meaning that we would go as soon as we have eight at one hundred percent and at least some intel on the target.”
    He again seems to gage the responses in silence.
    “If we head up to orbit, we can recon the base, determine best routes and potential hostile assets.”
    “Colonel Greer?” Fatima takes point.
    “Yes, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah?”
    “How long would the orbital survey take?”
    “Considering the weather at the target is about the same as what we had this morning, I can't answer that. We need at least thinner clouds to get IR and it would be better to have clear skies for a high res visual.”
    “Is a ground recon an option?”
    Her question seems so strange to me, but the Colonel appears to have anticipated it, “yes, if we go that route, a ground team would be the best risk for a timely reconnoiter. But it would be a significant risk, nevertheless, and I will not authorize a solo run. If no one else, I need you to make it back with your 3L.”
    Her expression is blank, but I think there is an edge in her tone, “I accept complete risk with my 'Mech. If I do not make it back, I will not have cost you anything... sir.”
    He smiles and nods, but his words seem coldly calculated to cut across her assertion, “Lieutenant, you are of course welcome to go your own way as you see fit, but I might suggest that there are currently no heavy-lift dropships that I’m aware of here for civilian traffic... and while we would rather you are on our team, I’m afraid that I would have to insist that if you decide to terminate your relationship with us that this dropship would not be able to provide you further transport.”
    Fatima is tense as a energized myomer bundle, her eyes almost slits as she looks at the Colonel... or at least it looks that way in this light.
    “Of course,” he continues, “I would prefer that you remain with us and lead one or two other 'Mechs on an overnight reccy. The Wolfie and 2x are also ready to go immediately, and either or both would give you cover if you need it.”
    She looks over at me... well, she might also be looking at Marty, since he is sitting beside me. I have no idea what she might be thinking. She looks back up front and says nothing.

    “Ok, while this is not a democracy, I would like to know your preferences by a show of hands. Leave while we still can.”
    Master Wolte's hand rises... but none other.
    “Orbit until intel is more complete.”
    The pause brings no raised hands, no, I can see that Captain Howard has raised his. Looking around, I also see three dropship officers with their hands raised also.
    “Hit the second interdiction, possibly with less than full strength.”
    This time, no hands take to the air.
    “And finally, raid the airbase with an early recon by Lt. Al-Zafirah and one or two others.”
    All the pilots raise their hands, including Captain Stevens. After an initial reluctance to vote, I let my hand balloon off my lap, too.
    “Are you willing to run the recon on my terms, Lieutenant?” he asks Fatima.
    She nods, “Yes. I will take Lt. O'Brian if he will commit to my orders.”
    “With the caveat that they do not change or disregard mine,” Colonel Greer answers. He looks over at me, “Are you willing to run her wing, Lieutenant?”
    I look over at Fatima and realize that Marty is staring at me... and seems nearly livid.
    “What?” I whisper.
    He says nothing, but the Colonel seems to think I have given him an answer that he just could not hear, “What was that, Lt. O'Brian?”
    “Oh, um... I guess if Lt. Al-Zafirah thinks I would be... well... it would seem that Marty or someone else might be better... but... well, I'll do whatever you ask, sir.”
    “Very well, Lieutenant.” His eyes move back to Fatima, “when will you want to walk? I would think O'Brian is about shot; either the doc ups him or he should get at least six hours. We would not be able to get you close, in fact, we would probably let you run from here, so you can expect eight to ten in the saddle just to get there.”
    “Don't up him. Have our Ravens otherwise ready to walk in seven hours.” She looks over at me, “take a sleeper and hit the sack. We walk in seven and a half.”
    Now she looks back at the Colonel and that edge seems to hint at not having left, “With your permission, of course, sir.”

    Edited by cmopatrick, 23 January 2013 - 09:00 PM.


    #38 cmopatrick

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    Posted 24 January 2013 - 10:41 PM

    I can't seem to get Marty's glare our of my mind. As Fatima and I each rose and left the briefing, the look Lieutenant Kuti gave me could have been that of a murderer temporarily thwarted. I have no idea why, but he seemed exceptionally hostile... I kinda wonder if he had been drinking, but then again, I really doubt he would attend a meeting of such import while intoxicated. On top of that, I would have sworn we were getting along just fine.
    I'm in my “quarters”... maybe calling it an “eighth” or even “sixteenth” would be more appropriate... trying to relax enough to sleep. Like all good closets, it has clothes hanging overhead and shoes underfoot. The sensation I have most in looking around is one of being in a coffin. As I wonder about the nearly 400 kilometers we will walk going to the base, it seems that boredom will likely be my foe more often than not. Still, the excitement is enough that I’m convinced I won't be able to sleep, even with the little blue “sleeper” I just took.
    My thoughts return to Marty... I guess I really don't know him. He and Joe were friends of a sort, and more than once they could be found together with a pile of empty alcoholic containers, Marty had endeared himself to the crew... but neither explained to me the apparent mood swing or its sudden onset. Up until...
    Hmmmm... feeling a bit less... well... here. I tink tha pilott's sweeppers musht... musshht...

    ….........

    The door alarm penetrates the aimless rambling my brain prefers during a slow waking. I’m not sure where I am, or even if I’m still dreaming... don't remember this place... is it somewhere I fell asleep when I was little? The alarm grows more insistent... did I fall asleep in class again?
    Through the fog I finally respond, “Here?!”
    “Lieutenant, you have fifteen minutes to get to your 'Mech.” Not sure who that is, but everything else is suddenly understood... I’m not still dreaming and I’m in my cubbyhole... and I'm almost late for my drop with Lieutenant Al-Zafirah for a recon run.
    Just fifteen minutes? The missing time since last night forces me to sit and stare in disbelief at the clock: 2135, how did I lose almost the whole seven hours?
    “Coming!”
    I must have been down like a tree-fall after that sleeper. Heck, other than my combat boots, I’m still dressed as I was when we dropped yesterday... well, at least I won't lose time making up my mind what color socks to wear... that lack of likely distractions will make it easier to be at the 2x in time.

    “Lieutenant Jordan suggested that you might need something like these,” Colonel Greer says while handing me a pill and little blue cup of liquid. I'm standing next to my cockpit, air flowing up warm through the gantry deck. It surprises me that he is taking this time to speak with me.
    “Daral?” I ask.
    “Something like it, my private reserve. Same with the miruvor, it is an ancient cordial meant to restore and rejuvenate. I think your situation makes you a candidate for both.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “Look, let me be straight with you. I don't really know what is happening with this walk, and it bothers me... a lot. It might be an unreasonable paranoia on my part, but with all the other coincidences and without that unknown ECM 'Mech being identified... well, I’m sure we aren't getting the whole story... even if our contracting party believes we are. I am even strongly inclined to move the dropship to another location after the two of you step out... this feels too much like a trap of some sort.
    “Next, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah is upset at being required to bring someone with her, she prefers solo when she can get it... but she can also take risks without thinking about it when she thinks the reward is great enough. It's something she rarely does when she is with someone else, so I forced the choice... but you are not whom I expected her to choose. Understand that she is a proud woman, with more than a little of the warriors of old about her. I need to give her the best chance to return in one piece, and that is where you come in: be careful to stay with her. Any order she might give you is to be weighed against this. The exception is if she is caught or her 'Mech destroyed. While you are with her, watch her closely. She has become a master with her Raven... learn all you can from her while you can; we need to have a better second scout, and I believe you can be that pilot.”
    “Thank y...” I start, but he isn't done and holds up his hand for silence.
    “Next, we still have no recent intel on the base. It has been socked in with storms for days so even the last three days worth of weather sat images aren't a help. You are waking in there blind and I know it. This is a reccy, a reconnaissance only mission. We need your data more than we need you to shoot big stompy 'bots.
    “Finally, we have your comms set up with three locked sequences, one for just you two, one for communication with us, and you will have one special one that will connect with my personal comm. Do not break radio silence unless you have to, but if you need my help, use it to let me know and I will work out a way for us to assist.”
    He stops and looks intently at me. “Do you have any questions about what I have just told you?”
    “None that can't wait, sir. I think I understand my orders.”
    “Good. Now put that holster on and mount your chariot, Lieutenant.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    He pats me on the shoulder as he turns, “Good luck, O'Brian.”
    “Thank you, sir.”

    “Prewalk complete to crewchief interaction,” Naomi declares as the last of the flashing “testing” indicators goes out.
    “Master Wolte?”
    “Ready, Lieutenant O'Brian. Canopy down and seal.”
    I flip the switch and the canopy sinks onto the pod rail with hardly a sense of contact, but the air cools as Naomi adjusts the environmental controls to 20 degrees celcius.
    Master Wolte resumes, “Board down here looks good, Lieutenant. By the way, the Large Laser is not quite as efficient as the Large Pulse Laser was, but it is the best we had available. On the upside, the downsize bought you an extra ton of missiles for the SRM6 and a spare heatsink.”
    “Thank you, Master Wolte.”
    “Anne is signaling that Lt. Al-Zafirah is ready to walk. Have you done a comm check with her yet?”
    “No, thanks for reminding me.”
    I look down at the little card someone has stuck near my heat indicators... channel 2 is our private sequence. “Lieutenant Al-Zafirah?”
    “You are loud and clear here, Lieutenant O'Brian.”
    “I have you clear also, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah.”
    I flip back to the crewchief comm, “Good to go here.”
    “You are green down here, sir. I can release your clamps on your order.”
    “Please do so now.”
    “Unlatching RVN-2X bay retainer jaws. Your 'Mech is free and ready to walk. Don't forget to check out with dropship control.”
    “Thanks, Master Wolte. I really appreciate you working with me on this... it means a lot to me.”
    “Any time, Lieutenant,” he says... then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Go do us proud, Padraig.”
    “Thanks, Hanse.”
    “You are quite welcome, sir.”

    I flip over to our unit comm sequence, “Raven 2x to GZR control. Do you copy?”
    “Loud and clear, Lieutenant.”
    “Clear and ready to walk.”
    “You are cleared to walk, please follow Raven 3L on departure.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “Godspeed, Lieutenant.”
    For just a moment, I look at the 'Mechbay that has been home for so long now... as I wait, I have a sense that this is somehow a special instant in my life. I don't really understand why, but I soak in it while it lasts.
    I feel her before I see her; Fatima in her 3L has stepped into the gallery and is striding for the door and the planet outside. As she passes me, I nudge the throttle forward and experience the wonder of walking my 'Mech out into the sunshine.
    It does seem momentarily odd to have us on Terran time when this little world has so many more hours in it's daily cycle, but the thought passes quickly as I orient on Lt. Al-Zafirah's Raven and throttle up to catch up with her. In the afternoon light, the black looks much warmer and its turquoise markings remind me most of Fatima's combat gear. She is making a good pace and I notice for the first time that even at a brisk walk, the Raven is so well designed for stealth that it stirs very little dust.
    On our sequence, Fatima says, “we are going to head north for about six klicks before we turn towards the east and our hidden base. Keep your BAP on and if you see anything unexpected, let me know immediately.”
    “Yes, Ma'am.”

    Edited by cmopatrick, 24 January 2013 - 10:44 PM.


    #39 cmopatrick

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    Posted 26 January 2013 - 10:26 PM

    Six klicks have passed fairly quickly, open town-land is giving way to more barren scrub with a fair number of smaller trees. We are holding a steady sixty-three kph pace and I am on the left wing about three hundred meters back.
    We finally reach a small creek bordered by mature aspen-like trees; here she stops.
    “Ok, Padraig. Listen carefully. My ECM unit will cover both of us if and only if you remain within a hundred and eighty meters. If you are outside of that space, you will be visible to sensors; readily identifiable and a hazard to us both. I would like you to stay within one hundred and twenty meters to give us cushion from mistakes. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Ma'am.”
    “Fatima.”
    “Yes, Fatima.”
    “Until or unless I break radio silence, you are not to use your open comms after we leave this place. I will flash my public running-lights if I want you to establish a tunneling connection. You need to understand that my approach will not be direct; if we are being watched or followed, I want us to know about it without them suspecting. Just follow my lead and only fire if one or the other of us comes under fire. Do you understand these instructions as well?”
    “Yes, Fatima.”
    “Oh, do you have music set up for walking, running, and combat?”
    “No, do I need it?”
    “It is a significant help to me, especially during the long hours walking... pick something with a good tempo, something around a hundred beats per minute. Your ai should be able to assist for now.”
    “I'll check with her when we're done.”
    “Very good. Let's get on with it, then.”
    We turn east along the stream, working among the trees... not really in the open, but not completely covered either.

    ….........

    I pull up the Battlemap again. After almost three hours of this steady rocking, it still seems like we are a long way off. Around us, the landscape varies between gentle hills and fairly broad valleys. Our original creek has grown to a muddy torrent, and after it began to swell, we have been staying on the north bank. I understand her choice; downstream about a hundred kilometers, the river turns southward enough that it would cut off our route unless we use a bridge. Something that might be watched or monitored...
    Fatima's Raven isn't being too coy with it's movements, I suspect she is more concerned that I remain within that safe 180 meters than with anything else. Then again, the trees are not very thick here, so it isn't like we are dancing the whole way.
    Naomi has found some simple electonica to listen to, the beat helps pass the time and establish a rhythm for the walking. I’m sure it will get boring and might even hurt if I’m trying to fight, but I suspect she has something for that, too.

    A red indicator flashes unexpectedly on my console...
    “Incoming message on the GZR control sequence. It has an emergency protocol flag set.”
    “Let's hear it, please.”
    “...say again, abort! GZR units engaged in dropship defense against four confirmed lances of Waco Rangers. Make for grid Blue recovery Saracen marker Orange for colors.”
    Fatima's Raven has halted and her running lights are flashing.
    “Mission 315, abort! I say again, abort! GZR units engaged in dropship defense against four confirmed lances of Waco Rangers. Make for grid Blue...”
    I move the 2x face to face with her 3L and flip the alignment beam on.
    “...recovery Saracen marker Orange for colors. Mission 315, abort! I say a...”
    “Naomi, kill that, please.”
    “Done, Padraig.” Except for her response, it is now quiet.
    I see the little red dot on her cockpit move as our two 'mechs tone lock the two beams together.
    “Link established,” Naomi informs me.
    “Padraig, have you heard the distress call?”
    “Yes, what do they mean?”
    “That I have been very wrong and the Colonel right. They are trying to get us to a location to meet up with survivors...”
    “What?!”
    “That means they are concerned that our dropship won't get powered up and off the ground in time to survive. They are under significant attack and five or six operational 'Mechs plus the Tornado's own arsenal is not enough to save it.”
    My mind is blank... our dropship, Tornado, is being attacked? How can that be?
    “Look, just follow me.”
    “We going to help protect it?”
    “No. We are going to Blue Saracen Orange.”
    “What?”
    “Tell your ai to replace the map grid with the emergency mission overlay grid 'blue' and to mark 'Saracen Orange' on it.”
    “No, I mean why not go back to help?”
    “How long does it take to get the dropship ready for emergency departure?”
    She knows this, “twenty minutes, fifteen in a pinch.”
    “Exactly. How long have we been walking away?”
    “Oh. Um, ok.”
    “If they get her into the air, they will let us know... until then, we will obey these orders.”
    “Yes, Ma'am. Lead on.”
    The 3L turns enough to pass me and I pivot to follow.
    “Naomi, would you do the things for the map that Lt. Al-Zafirah said I needed to?”
    “Please clarify, Padraig.”
    “The grid blue, um... orange something... no, saracen orange.”
    “EMO grid blue now on Battlemap. Saracen recovery zone highlighted and marker Orange designated.”
    “Thanks,” I reply as I bring it up... it is twenty or more klicks west of where we left the Tornado... I hope it is close enough to help.

    We have been walking only six minutes when the red indicator stops flashing. Maybe everything is Ok now.
    “Are they still broadcasting on the GZR comms?”
    “No, sir. That sequence is clear.”
    Maybe they can't call right now. Maybe they are just really busy. Maybe... well... part of me feels empty and I wonder if all my maybes aren't as likely as cows having wings.
    Maddeningly, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah keeps her same pace as we head west. I want to run all the way back, but she appears to be in no hurry.

    ….........

    At the first passable ford, we turn south. While comparatively shallow, the thick flowing water still comes almost up to the cockpit, looking mostly like creamy chocolate milk... except when the odd tree flows by. It's force strains and pushes against my ability to cross, but the broadness of the ford has lessened the stream's power and we make it safely.
    “Anything more from them, Naomi?”
    “No, sir.”
    We leave the water rich zone of trees and are into open ground quickly. Two more hours to go. Why can't we run? I dare not key up to ask, but this walking in spite of the urgency will drive me bats in no time at all.
    I do notice that she is moving a bit more skittishly, as if there were a danger that something narrow and predictable would get her killed. Oddly enough, I seem to be following her movements without too much effort.
    Something seems odd on the skyline... I zoom in.
    A thick plume of smoke blackens the sky east southeast of us. I don't need to look at the map to know... that is where we will find the Tornado.

    Edited by cmopatrick, 26 January 2013 - 10:37 PM.


    #40 cmopatrick

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    Posted 27 January 2013 - 03:22 PM

    At twenty klicks, Fatima breaks radio silence, “Do not respond. M315 closing on Blue Saracen Orange. ETA under fifteen minutes. Beacon search upon arrival.”
    She has done this to alert me, too... her throttle goes up and I hardly miss a step as she accelerates.
    “Naomi, please match the beat to our pace.”
    “Adjusting with throttle, sir.”
    We even out at 112kph, a hair away from my throttle being maxed. As we run, I wonder what we will see. Will we run into those four lances? Are there untold enemies out there just waiting to slice us apart as we scramble to recover survivors? It occurs to me that I should have my weapons armed and ready to fire.
    “Naomi, can we run the combat diagnostic while we are in motion?”
    “Yes, Padraig.”
    “Naomi, please run the combat diagnostic.”
    “Running.”
    The console indicators and buttons blink merrily and Naomi calls each system clear. Finally, she announces, “All systems go for combat.”
    I reach up and flick the three safety switches to their “armed” positions. Capacitors hum as the laser comes to life and there is that distinct swish clank as the SRM6 readies it's initial salvo.
    At five klicks, Fatima begins a more complicated dance and I am finally beginning to struggle to keep within the ECM bubble. I lurched past her as her throttle unexpectedly drops, but before I really can get back, she is passing me again... on my other side.
    The terrain we are approaching is much choppier; there are more trees, boulders, gullies, and hills than the ground we have been on since we walked out the dropship portal this morning.

    There is a sudden blip on the direction indicator, though my sensors are still blank. I pull up the Battlemap and it is now obvious at the near edge of the highlighted Saracen area; bright and then fading... if it were a sound I would say it was pinging.
    Fatima in her 3L has seen it too... we slow and begin moving in tandem in that direction. There are burnt and damaged trees all around. My first glimpse of the pod is a shock... it has been almost completely crushed... something heavy fell onto it... no, there is nothing nearby. There are two more pings now on the sensors, but I want to see what has happened here and zoom in.
    There are obvious 'Mech foot-prints all around it, including some monsters that are easily bigger than anything I have ever seen.
    A medium laser slashes across my vision... no damage, but I turn as quickly as possible and am starting to accelerate to dance... but it is the 3L that has fired. The torso moves back and forth as if the Raven was telling me “no” by shaking it's head. She turns her back to me and heads for the next ping. I guess she had to get my attention somehow. I follow dutifully while I wonder what is happening to my world?
    We cross a small ridge and to my right I can see the distant tower of still boiling smoke billowing madly at the heavens. It's almost sundown and the column is touched with golds and oranges as it tumbles upward to spread with the wind.
    This pod is larger, or perhaps I should say “was” larger... it too has been obviously trampled. As far as I can tell, there is no sign the canopy was blown off and the rear accessway is closed as well... I suppose they could have closed it after leaving, but I get the sense that this was a deliberate kill of a helpless pilot.
    Again, the 3L is shaking it's head. I nod mine and we are off to the next one. There are more and more signs of heavy equipment or 'Mechs trampling the ground. Well short of the next ping, the 3L stops. I wonder why until I see the rear of the evac bus with a hole from what must be a ballistic round. Like a tin can with a firecracker, it has exploded outwards and then been consumed in a pretty significant fire.
    It occurs to me that if we had been hit two days ago... I would have probably been in that bus.
    Anger at whomever did this threatens to cut loose... I will hunt them down, gut them, skewer them... crush them underfoot.
    Once again, the laser breaks my distraction and Fatima leads me away from the scene. I still notice that there were at least two other vehicles in the fleeing convoy. Is this how we treat our enemies? Whatever their reason for hounding us for so long, they must actually hate us with a blinding passion.
    The last pod is in much better shape... or so it seems at first. As I get closer, I see what is clearly the Wolfhound pod... with has a huge hole through the ferroglass that would sit at the pilot's left hand. A quick look at the far side reveals that the round exited that way. While not stepped on, a zoom in shows that most of the armor had been stripped on the left. It must have been a gauss fired at the weakened hull... slicing through metal, electronics, and flesh like a hot knife through butter. The ai auto-ejected the pod after Marty had... had...
    My mind's eye recreates the cockpit scene and my stomach turns, flips, and tries to cartwheel.
    “Naomi, open the canopy, please.”
    “As you wish,” she says as the heavy visor slips up off my Raven's face.
    For the second time in two days, I retch violently.

    Nearly exhausted, I look up from the vile smelling side of my 'Mech where stomach bile mixed with too little food dries slowly. The 3L is standing not thirty meters away... facing me. She can't have missed my embarrassing lack of fortitude, but at least the Raven's expression is as impassive as before.
    I make mental deals with myself about never having to do this again. I want to find a way to be hard and aloof... protected like everyone else must be.
    Fatima is flashing her lights again. I have Naomi close the canopy and then I walk the 2x over to align. Our 'Mechs do the tiny dance that will get us talking again.
    “Are you Ok, Padraig?”
    “I'm gonna have to be aren't I?”
    “Yes. I need you to be. This is unexpected and we are going to have to depend on each other until we can find our way clear. We need to go to the Tornado, or at least what is left of it. I don't think this is going to be pretty... can you handle it or should I let you power down and wait here?”
    “I'm going. I'm... well, I'm...”
    “You knew Lieutenant Kuti at least some, did you not?”
    “Yeah. Gruesome way to go.”
    “He likely never felt a thing. The pods that got crushed are a different matter. I really want you to be on my wing as we run to the dropship. Can you handle it?”
    “I'll do my best.”
    “That is good enough for me.”
    The 3L turns and accelerates rapidly. We run towards where the dark brown snake rises from earth to blot out even heaven if it can.

    “We are receiving a general transmission on one of the common frequencies,” Naomi informs me.
    “Ok, let's hear it.”
    “...the Big Bear Mercs and Green Zone Riders. You may flee, hide where you will. We are going to address some other trouble, but we are not leaving the system and will be back to hunt you down like the dogs you are. We are the Waco Rangers. Once a Dragoon or their lackey, always one... and worthy of the most gruesome death we can provide. We are coming for you. Attention! Survivors of the Big Bear Mercs and Green Zone...”
    “Kill that!” I spit into the air in front of me and mercifully it stops.
    We pass a slag pile that I can not identify, then another that obviously was once a Hunchback... sans it's cockpit pod.
    The Colonel's Dragon still has it's pod... but it has also been destroyed by being stepped on. The 'Mech itself was stripped of it's arms and legs and battered by untold direct hits on her torso.
    Now I can see her hulk: the dropship Tornado never left the ground... she died right were we walked out of her.
    There is a small flash near one of the charred APU hulks. There... and again... I zoom in and see the most welcome sight: a soot covered person on the ground but with enough strength to flash a mirror at us to indicate that we have a survivor.
    I break the radio silence, “on the ground by the number three APU... or what is left of it.”
    Fatima's head comes around and she now sees whomever as well. “Copy. Dismount and check on them.”
    “Without a gantry?”
    “Just crouch your 'Mech, open the canopy and climb out the handholds and down the knelt legs.”
    “Oh. Yes, Ma'am.”
    She sighs but says nothing more.
    As the canopy rises, I realize that the handholds are on the left side... the nasty, smelly left side. Well, guess I need to do this anyway.

    It occurs to me that this could be a trap of some kind; I draw my pistol and chamber a round.
    The person on the ground seems unable to stand, gesturing to them to stand up is useless.
    The waving has stopped and what I guess is a man sinks back onto the packed ground.
    “Who are you? I call out as I hurry to him while watching everything I can see for a threat.
    “God be Praised! Padraig, you are a sight for sore eyes.”
    “Master Wolte?”

    Edited by cmopatrick, 27 January 2013 - 03:27 PM.






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