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#41 Listless Nomad

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Posted 16 July 2013 - 09:27 AM

Cabin12 – Personal Quarters of Andrew Wheeler
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
3 March, 3061 – 23:00Hrs

Andrew couldn’t believe his luck. There had not been a single negative reaction from those amongst the crowd, and even Cees had seemed proud of him. Seeing the primarily disinterested or confused looks on the faces of the crowd reinforced what Adrianna had told him a few days ago. Everyone had been there. Everyone understood. Laying back on his bed, Andrew rested his head on his hands and stared at the ceiling. The past few days had been a roller coaster of emotions, and it was difficult to adjust back into a more “normal” series of behaviors. The cabin was strewn with his oil stained personal effects, hastily gathered from the cramped cockpit of the Mad Cat and thrown inside when he’d moved. Secretly he’d hoped that getting away from the mech would stop his nightmares, but thus far they’d been just was frequent. He had to put those thoughts aside for the moment and focus on the immediate future. Wheeler had less than a month to finish repairs on his mech and catalogue what spares and parts he would require. Cees had been friendly but firm that it would be his responsibility alone to get what he needed to sustain himself in a combat environment. In the time spent repairing his mech, he’d become proficient at repairing what was broken, but preventative maintenance and spares were still something of a mystery to him. Luckily for him, he seemed to had found a friend in Adrianna’s tech Zoé. After his big reveal, she’d come and talked to him, offering her help in finishing any repairs that might need to be done. Andrew had gratefully accepted, though he inwardly suspected that help wouldn’t be an issue. Nearly every tech on the ship had come by at some point during the day to poke around on the mech and inspect it up close. Still, Andrew appreciated the thought of developing a friend on the ship, and welcomed the companionship. With a satisfied look on his face, Andrew switched off the light in his cabin, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Cabin12 – Personal Quarters of Andrew Wheeler
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
29 March, 3061 – 19:25 Hrs

Andrew hated throwing up. Usually jumpship travel didn’t bother him, but with the frequency of jumps associated with a command circuit, it was simply too much for his stomach to handle. Luckily he was able to collect all of the floating detritus with a space sickness bag before any of it found its way onto his belongings. Shaking out his whole body before he entered the corridor, Wheeler smacked his head with the palm of his hand several times.

It’s just the jumps. It’s just the jumps. It’s just the jumps…

Deep down, Wheeler knew it wasn’t just the frequent jumps that were causing his stomach to be upset. As the past month had gone by, Wheeler had thrown himself more and more into finishing the repairs on his mech as a way to distract himself from what he knew was coming. Once they arrived in the Coventry system, they were crossing the Rubicon. He was going back to war.

#42 Thom Frankfurt

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Posted 21 July 2013 - 04:28 AM

Drop ship Achilles' Pride
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
29 March, 3061, 18:57 Hours

It was a long journey. The trip from Outreach to Coventry consisted a voyage of hundreds of light years. Normally the trip would have taken the better part of a few months, but thanks to foresight and some logistical magic by the Irregular/COMstar partnership, Thom's Terrors made the voyage in just over a month's time. It could have been even faster if one of the jumpship's ferrying the mercenaries to their destination hadn't experienced 'technical difficulties.'

The Terrors ended up waiting aboard the ship that they jumped to the Tsinan system aboard, the Magellan class jumpship, Night Witch.With the extended stay on Tsinan afforded them the luxury of catching up on the various news from across the Inner Sphere, as well as letting them catch up on the new season of Immortal Warrior and the latest Solaris bouts with 'Storming' Michael Searcy making big waves in the class one circuits.

But the stay in Tsinan wasn't all pleasure as the 'Pride's walk in refrigerator, which was neigh on three decades overdue to be serviced died suddenly amidst belching grey smoke and sparks. Despite the three Battle Magic Technicians being given a shot at coaxing life out of the rusted husk there were was no luck. But, they were after all battlemech technicians, not refrigerator repairmen and they said as much as the dug around in the innards of the obsolete unit in vain. So the men and women aboard the 'Pride spent the last couple weeks eating browning greens of a questionable nature or not at all. The last few days in the Tsinan System were only made reasonably comfortable by ferrying foodstuffs over from the Night Witch. In the end all was well though, with the Merc dropship piggy back riding to Coventry where the unit could be properly repaired or replaced.

Upon entry Thom thanked the Jumpship's captain, Nadezhda Popova, and sent out the call to whomever may be listening that the Terror's had arrived.

Thud, thud, thud"Heys is dis ting even on? Sofi? It is? Oh s**t... Ahem. Hey YO! Irregular forces, you'sa guys out der?"
************************************************

Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
29th March, 3061, 19:23 Hours,

"Thom, we're being hailed by The Drunkard's Walk.They're instructing us to head to the Nadir point at best speed." Sofia smiled warmly at the Warlockian mercenary.

"Damnsit. I wasa hoping to go dirt side, and get a new ice box. Dis slop dat Momma Molas is making everyone mutinous... Was tinking abouts showing hers how tos make borscht too." Thom nibbled on his bottom lip while thinking about the dire situation that they were in.

"Tell em dat we'sa on da way... Uh, ummm..." Thom turned his head to behold the Molas Family patriarch, Davos who had been staring the mercenary talk with his daughter.

"Uh, dat's if you'sa wanna go." Thom added as the patriarch arched a snowy eyebrow.

"Thomas, you know about the walk in. I don't believe prolonging a diet of rotting plant matter is wise." There was an edge to the usually mild mannered man's voice, something Thom rarely ever heard.

"Oh's don't aworry about dat, Davos. You'sa know dat da Irregulars an I'sa go back. I'msa sure I'sa can atalk Vantas or whoevers into letting usa pick up a new ice box..."

If I get Vantas drunk enough I can convince him that Theodore Kurita sleeps with a teddy bear.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 23 July 2013 - 04:49 PM.


#43 Thom Frankfurt

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Posted 25 July 2013 - 11:47 PM

Dropship Achilles's Pride
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
30th March, 3061, 00:29 Hours


"You twos quiet." Thom said to his companions as they neared the egress hatch that connected the Achilles to the Drunkard's Walk. Nervously fidgeting with a rebellious strand of auburn hair which he kept trying to pop out over his hear, Wheeler finally seemed to give up an sighed heavily in frustration and look himself over in the reflection cast by a strategically placed mirror.

The trio looked out of place. Wheeler in his OD green BDU pants, Lyran field cap, combat boots and Gemini Stables T-shirt almost matched Thom's dress of black cargo pants tucked into mirror shined combats and tucked in 'Black Sabbath' muscle shirt. Seeing his reflection in the mirror Thom hooked his thumbs through two belt loops and rocked back on his heels, causing his grav boots to Clickity, Clank. The third member of the small party, looked every bit the professional solider. Nondescript power blue uniform of the Lyran military pressed with sharp creases. If it wasn't for his being an albino, Cees looked every part recruitment poster material.

Professional... Every man and woman aboard this rust bucket is a professional, Remember that Thom.Thom thought to himself as he met Cees' unsettling pink stare in the mirror.
"Readies?" Thom asked at length which prompted Doc to crack a nervous smile and nod while Cees half smirked with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Alrighties let's do dis." With a pull of a lever the hatch hissed evilly and yawned open. Immediately Thom thrust his head in through the hatch causing a Comstar adept to leap back in surprise at Thom roared out "WHERE'S MYS CHOCOLATE MAN!?!? DER HE IS!!" with that the Warlockian charged the RAI uniformed man and gripped him in a bear hug, waving at a familiar lieutenant over the big man's shoulder.

"Aha! Thom my boy!!" Vantas held him back and looked him over. "It's great to see you, my friend. How was your trip?" The Captain smiled a toothy grin as he appreciatively looked over Thom's new tattoos.

"Good an bad. Woulda been here's sooner but a jumpship tooks a s**t on us, so we'sa hadda wait outta recharge cycle." The mercenary then turned over his arm so Vantas could take in all the artwork of the bloody rabbit's foot tattoo. "An ours walk in hadda Viking funeral." The RAI officer looked up at Thom with confusion plain on his face. "Ita caught fire." Thom stated like that explained everything.

"Your freezer caught fire?" Vantas shook his head at Thom's luck. "Well that's something you don't hear everyday. Was anyone hurt?" Fires aboard a ship, any ship was a bad thing. Thom shook his head 'no.'"We'sa gonna have to get a new one though." Thom added. "Nonsense. I'm sure one of your techs, or ours can repair it long enough for our OP, we'll worry about it afterword." Vantas retorted. Thom shook his head then leaned in to whisper in his old friend's ear.

"It'sa dead. I'sa had three 'Battle Magic' guys look at it an deys said dat it wasa dead and dat it'da have tos be replace. Piece of s**t was old. And we'sa low on consumables too." Thom looked over his shoulder at Cees and Doc thinking about the escapades they had on their final night on Outreach "We'da had tos leave Outreach aearly an didn't get all da supplies we'sa needed. Been eating brown-green goop for da last couple o weeks. Crew's miserable an getting mutinous." Thom finished at length and Vantas stepped back like he was physically smacked by the work 'mutinous.'

The Irregular officer got a strange look in his eye and paused for half a heartbeat. "Nonsense." He patted Thom on the arm and turned to head deeper into the Drunkard. "I'm sure one of my techs can figure it out. And I'm sure we have enough consumables to feed your lot." Vantas offered help growing more and more strange.

"Alook. I'lls abet you mys whole paycheck from dis op if one of des Comstar guys get it working. And you'sa remember Momma Molas?" Vantas nodded "Do yousa really want someone heavily medicated wit Alzheimer's anda advanced dementia running to yousa three ors more times a day because her icebox no workity?" The colored man suddenly became pale, and Thom knew he had him.

"How much time do you need?" Vantas groaned, suddenly remembering just how annoying and difficult dealing with Rose 'Momma' Molas.

Thom shrugged. "Just's long enough t'get a new walk in an' some supplies from Ceres-"
Vantas halted abruptly and clapped his hands. "Ah! Where are my manners. Thom, you remember the lovely Lieutenant Bacon?"

"Lieutenant Leah Mason." The tall skinny woman corrected her CO. She held out a hand nervously to Cees and Wheeler. "Second in command of the Angels."

"Your's manners are in da sames place as amine, amigo." Thom replied to Vantas while giving his two subordinates a look that stated 'Damn you guys are being quiet, you's acting alike you's never been on a jumpship before. But he perked up as he watched Andrew shake Bacon's hand and exchange pleasantries with Cees following suit, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"I'sa present to you's Loverboy Doc Wheeler. An da sharp dressed man is my's XO Cees, uh, Anth-oni-ssen." Thom struggled through Cees surname. "Doc, Cees dis here es my old Homie, Captain Vantas Strider, um you'sa just met the loveley Lieutenant Mason... an dat der isa... a..um... Sorry's man I remember da face just not da name..." Thom addressed the Adept with the Nordic-embroidered robes.
"Adept Whelan, Master Frankfurt." The adept bowed to Thom after addressing him. The usage of the word 'master' and the bow threw Thom off for just a second.

Bootlicking toaster-worshiper.

"Thom or T, please." Thom added to the adept. "How you'sa doing Leah?" Thom purred at the lieutenant who suddenly blushed.

"I'm good Thom, how are you?" She smiled and shuffled towards him, holding her arms out for a hug.
Thom shrugged and returned the hug. "Peachy."

"Ahem, Bacon would you please show Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Anthonissen to where the Terrors will be bunking?" Interjected Vantas. "I need to talk to Thom about his supplies."

"EH?" Thom blurted out, arching an eyebrow with his own surprised look.
Strider waved it off though. "We want our soldiers to get to know one another by staying in close proximity to keep them talking, getting used to each other and just keep them all in one place. It's easier to organize them that way - just like the old days Thom. Relax, my friend."

You f*cks better not be trying to absorb my misfits...

"Come Thom." Vantas hooked an arm over the Warlockian's shoulder and began steering him away from the others. The big warrior had a mean glint in his eye and a twisted smile. "Time to find out about all the fun you've missed."

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 25 July 2013 - 11:47 PM.


#44 Thom Frankfurt

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Posted 14 August 2013 - 02:59 AM

Jumpship Drunkard's Walk
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
30th March, 3061, 01:30 Hours

Memories flooded in on Thom as he walked alongside Vantas through the silent corridors of the Drunkard. He paused abruptly with a lecherous grin as the two neared one door who's plaque read 'Sick Bay.'

"Cyn is gone, Thom." Vantas stated reading the Warlockian's mind.

"Wat, why?" Thom muttered out thinking about one of the infirmary's nurses that he had an off and on fling with during his time with the Irregulars.

"She has been gone five, no six years. Last I heard she was married with two kids and her own practice on Tharkad and an NDA. Just like you are, I’ll remind you." Vantas replied as the two neared the corridor that would lead to egress hatch for the 'Drift. Frowning Thom thought about the buxom blond attached to some random dude with a small pack of rug rats and freezing her tail off on Tharkad. It didn't sound like the girl he knew.

She should be on some black sanded beach somewhere with the sun smiling down on her...

Silently the two traveled on, passing through the hatch and weaving their way through the passageways of the Fortress Class dropship. At length Thom's mind drifted from lust filled days of his pass and drew to the task on hand.

"So where's we'sa hitting da Falcons?" Thom asked breaking the silence, Vantas stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned to regard the Warlockian MechWarrior. After a pregnant pause the Irregular replied his voice deadpan without a trace of humor in it.

"Who told you that?" The man bit out.

"Well, ah.. you's did, well kinda. You'sa said dat I'da be shooting up a-holes that Isa really like shooting at, an you'sa dragged me's out here to Coventry an I'sa got techs that coulda probably rig up a potato gun dat couldda shell dat Falcon OZ from here... So methinks dats who you'sa want mes to fight Falcons." Vantas gave him with a relieved look.

"I told you that?" The man laughed, relieved like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thom, my boy, I think I need to quit trying to out drink you." He added while wrapping his arm around Thom's shoulder and steering him in the direction of the little used mechbay three, his nervousness and odd behaviour gone.

“So...whysa wea headin on down dis way? You'sa been ona run an grab some swag alreadies?” Thom asked, remembering the bay’s usual use.

Vantas laughed and waved away the question. "Yes, you are fighting the Buzzards, but there's more to it than simply that." Vantas flashed a pearly grin while throwing open a service hatch that lead to the mechbay and motioned for Thom to continue on. It was now Thom who wore the slack jawed and dumbfounded look.

"About your mission...we have a little something special planned." Vantas proffered a flask of strong rum to Thom. He began filling in Thom on the mission's specifics, grinning at the look of Devilish glee that the mercenary plainly had on his face. If Vantas had to describe Thom's behaviour to anyone it would have to be akin to a child on Christmas morning. “Have a think on that. I shall fill you in on the whys down the bar when you get back. Now, this Coventry expedition...”

*********************************************************

Dropship Achilles Pride
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
30th March, 3061, 03:38 Hours

A mere two hours later Thom found himself aboard the pitching and trembling Pride as it made a high G drop to Coventry. The sensation of gravity was a usually welcome experience aboard a dropship, but this was too much.

Vantas was easily coaxed into postponing the jump out of Coventry but only for long enough for the Pride to take on supplies and replace the walk in. But Vantas was very ambient that Thom, the Pride, and all it's miserable crew make the trip with haste. The Warlockian grimly chuckled at the Irregular's words of 'attempting to break drop records' So there they were blasting towards the ever enlarging blue-brown planet at a pace of three G's which were testing all the patchwork repairs and welds that had been put in place since the drop ship was shot up on Barcelona.

With difficulty, Thom pushed the thought of a weld melting off during reentry and the dropship plummeting to the planet like a meteor. He then redoubled his efforts to focus on his task on hand; programming simulator programs for Vantas and his dimwitted lackeys. With a heavy sigh he turned over the battle ROM diskette to read it's title stenciled in with a black marker on masking tape to see when and where the footage came from. Upon seeing the title, T cracked an predatory grin and chuckled evilly remembering the fight.

"Ah...Clan Wolf, f**k dose guys!"

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 14 August 2013 - 09:35 PM.


#45 Listless Nomad

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Posted 27 August 2013 - 07:24 PM

Jumpship Drunkard’s Walk
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
30th March, 3061, 01:30 Hours

Andrew attempted to stifle a yawn with a closed fist, but was entirely unsuccessful, drawing a disapproving frown from the RAI member escorting them throughout the ship.

“Is the tour boring you Mr. Wheeler?” Lieutenant Mason had been doing an admirable job showing Andrew and Cees through the ship, showcasing the innerworkings of one of mankind’s greatest achievements. Reflexively Wheeler looked down and scratched the back of his neck.

“No no! It’s just that it is way past my bed time, and my body hasn’t taken too well to all this jumping. I’m sorry to have distracted you…”

Cees frowned disapprovingly at Wheeler’s social faux paux and remained in a parade rest stance, waiting for Mason to finish her explanation of the ships Hydroponics pods. Mason, however, just smiled warmly and patted Wheeler on the arm.

“It’s no worry Mr. Wheeler. This is the last part of the tour, and then I can direct you back to your ship for some rest.”

Wheeler nodded appreciatively and allowed her to continue uninterrupted, only perking up at the mention of a small bar area in the port side Hydroponics Pod that the crew had set up to relax. He’d been meaning to find a way to relax for quite some time, and Zoé had been bugging him for that drink for the past few weeks. Unfortunately, Wheeler had to put that thought on the back burner as Mason concluded her speech and bid them a pleasant evening. This caused a frown to cross Wheeler’s face.

Throughout the tour, Wheeler had felt that the two of them had been kept deliberately out of the way, shuttled around the ship to be distracted and occupied, while other machinations occurred out of sight. Groggily, Wheeler tried to shake the cobwebs from his sleep deprived brain, and formulate the questions that sat just outside of his reach.

First off, Wheeler had never heard of the RAI, but they seemed particularly well equipped for an unknown merc corp. Thom seemed to trust them, but then again Thom seemed to be a bit of a loose cannon from what Wheeler knew of the man, so his input was questionable at best.

Secondly, all of the security around this operation didn’t set right with Wheeler. He’d been on shady operations before. But that had been for Archon and Country – not for a paycheck. Andrew had a lot to learn about being a mercenary, but one thing he’d picked up quickly was to not stick your neck out for strangers without knowing all the details. He wanted answers.

At that moment, Mason was busy chatting to Cees, exchanging professional pleasantries prior to parting for the night. She seemed like a likable enough woman, although a little too professional for what Wheeler had become accustomed to with the Terrors. Cees’ rigidity was enough for him.

When an acceptable break appeared in their conversation, Wheeler took the opportunity to get Mason’s attention.

“Lieutenant Mason. Do you have a minute, I have a few questions regarding the mission.”

Mason grew rather stiff, and unconsciously straightened her uniform creases.

"Of course. I'm afraid I won't be able to answer all of them until after we've left the system however, with your unexpected trip to Coventry there are still too many opportunities for someone to sell out the mission or simply let something slip. Meaning no offence Mr. Wheeler," She added hurriedly, "We just don't know any of you except Thom and he used to be one of us. He hasn't even been told."

Wheeler, visibly deflated, let out a rather exasperated sigh.

“That’s alright Lieutenant Mason. I’m just getting a little antsy and am getting ahead of myself. It’s not my place if the CO hasn’t even been informed yet.”
With a small smile Andrew shook her hand in parting and began the long walk back to the ship alone. Multiple aspects of this trip didn’t sit right with Andrew, but, at least for the moment, he was unable to do anything about it. Stifling another yawn, Wheeler headed for his quarters to catch some sleep. Perhaps in the morning things would be more clear.

#46 The Shepherd

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Posted 03 September 2013 - 11:24 PM

Dropship Achilles Pride
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
30th March, 3061, 03:40 Hours
Executive Officer's quarters.

Lying flat on his back as the Pride rumbled around him in the gravity inducing deceleration of making landfall, Cees stared blankly at the ceiling above him, recalling the contents of his last "conversation" with Thom.
A Mad Cat. Here. On -this- dropship. Standing, INTACT, next to -my- mech.
His fists balled subconsciously at his sides. Taking a deep breath against the varying levels of pressure against his chest as the Dropship punched through atmosphere, he forced himself to think calmly.

No IS unit brought such an iconic Clan mech to the field unless they wanted to be noticed... but why? And against Clanners? Why? What are the Rouges planning? Who could be hiring them? Are they doing this on their own initiative?
The questions danced around his head as he tried to make sense of the situation. One resounding revelation cut through the mire of suppositions.

It's all irrelevant. We're fighting Falcons. I'm, fighting Falcons... they're going to suffer regardless. I'll make sure of it.
Closing his eyes he forced himself to accept that he'd be fighting both with and against a Clan mech in the near future. But what of the pilot of the "friendly" Mad Cat? What of Andrew Wheeler? His razor sharp memory recalled the rather short personnel file the pilot had apparently been brave enough to wordlessly place on his workspace table before practically running away.
He's nothing exceptional. Given, he did manage to take down a Mad Cat practically by himself and he's a Bird Dog Veteran, but he's not a renowned pilot, not like Thom. Is it just because he has access to the mech? Or is there more to it?
The more he'd found out on this relatively short trip, the more questions had been raised. It angered him that his hands were tied in terms of finding out more. The best thing to do was to behave as normal and try to get this interesting pilot, or anyone else, to let some other detail slip.
Hell, it might even pay to be nice to him...

Resolving to be more open and let the answers come to him, he fought his inner ear's shifting sense of balance in the undulating descent and willed himself to sleep.


Dropship Gantry 7
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 11:10
Cargo bay

Cees stared out of the Pride's cargo hatch. Confronted with the all too familiar sight of Port St Williams, he noted with a sense of bitter distaste that the Terrors dropship was standing in one of the gantries the Falcons had occupied during their initial assault of the spaceport not two years prior. A loader behind him beeped impatiently, needing him to move before it could egress and begin unloading the necessary items to make room for and balance the new cargo mass to be loaded into the ship.
Turning slowly to face the tech, Cees fixed him with a glare that could freeze beer. The tech held his hands up defeated, as if signaling that the albino should take his time. With deliberate steps, Cees made his way down the gangway. The act of placing his combat booted feet onto the thruster warmed ground was much more symbolic than Cees liked. Looking up he almost expected to see clan omnifighters tangling with Lyran Shilones. The gantries had been repaired, the cratered ferrocrete re-cast, the blood and smoke stains scrubbed out of the other still standing walls of support buildings. All evidence was gone of the brutal battles waged over control of the tactically important site.

Cees shuddered.
He stood surveying the scene before him of bustling transport techs, mechs walking in and out of both regular and independent military drophips and the slowly rotating comm arrays above the newly rebuilt aerospace traffic control building. The efficiency of the Lyran war machine had forced Coventry to recover after the Falcons' incursion. Life appeared to be carrying on as it had been before...
He shuddered again.
This isnt home. It looks like it, pretends to be it, but it's not. Home died when...
A hand clapped down on his shoulder, dragging him from his thoughts.
"Yo! It'sa good ta be home ay?"
Unmoving, Cees closed his eyes and took a moment to gather what he needed to face the inevitably grinning Warlockian.
"Yes," he stated simply, opening his eyes and trying to mimic Thom's almost childish grin, "I suppose it is."
"Youse gonna catch up wit any war buddies while ya here?"
Before he could stop himself, Cees let out a short, derisive laugh, "I dont have 'buddies' Thom. They were classmates. And even if I wanted to visit them, I'd need a shovel and directions to the city cemetery to do it."
Thom grin faded. He opened his mouth and began to stammer a reply. Cees held up and hand and cut him off.
Come on. Get your **** together.

"Sorry, sorry," he lowered his hand to the other man's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, "you didnt deserve that. It's just... bad memories."
He gave a genuine, apologetic smile, "I'd appreciate it if we could just conduct whatever business we need to and leave."
Thom nodded slowly and smiled back, as if understanding.
"Okays. Youse still good t' manage the cargo and handling da procurement?"
"Of course," he returned immediately to his normal demeanor, "I'll wait for the shipments here. Please do try to place the orders in a timely manner?"
Returning back to his old self too, Thom gave him one of his shrimp eating grins, "What makesya tink I wouldn't?"
Cees raised a white eyebrow, "I happen to know that there are a number of bars between here and both Ceres and Coventry Metal Works. All of them stocking some of the best beer in the Commonwealth, most produced right here on Coventry. If anyone 'accidentally' stumbled into one -before- we've done what we need to here, it would push back our schedule significantly and unacceptably. Savvy?" he said more than asked, borrowing one of Thoms favorite expressions.
Thom laughed heartily and clapped Cees on the back, beginning to walk away, "Yeah yeah, I savvy. I'll be back before ya knows it."
Cees shook his head in only half mock dismay at the man's infectious attitude, before calling after him.
"And Thom," he waited until the other man had turned back, "I'd also appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that I'm here."
Thom gave another nod of understanding before waving and walking jauntily off.
Maybe I could have 'buddies' afterall...

A short distance away, a hover transport swerved to avoid a casually walking and singing Thom, who promptly gave the driver the finger in response to his yelled protest.
Scoffing at himself for considering such a thought, Cees began overseeing the management of the cargo.


Dropship Gantry 7
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 15:21
Cargo bay

The telltale thud...thud...thud... of a battlemech's footsteps was a common sound in a spaceport, but something told Cees that he should take note of these particular footfalls.
Turning from the back of the Pride's cargo hold towards the open hatch, he directed his attention away from the monotonous task of inventory.
Mechs are speed limited by regulation on spaceport grounds. Travelling at cruising speed, with that level of sound and vibration, the spacing between footfalls, it could only be a Highlander or an...
"Uh, Ell Tee?" one of the techs at near the hatch called, "There's an Atlas outside."
"I know," he called back, crossing over to the hatch, "He's here for me."
"He looks important, are those Royal Guards colours?"
"Everyone back inside please," Cees yelled over the din in and just outside the mech bay.
The techs paused and looked up at him curiously.
“Inside. Now.”
Knowing better than to challenge the icy officer, the workers grumbled and hurriedly cleared the area.

Stepping out to face the gigantic assault mech, Cees stood at attention a respectable distance from its feet. The cockpit hatch popped open with a hiss, with the pilot emerging shortly thereafter. Climbing down the unfurled chain ladder with the grace and speed of a man of Cees’ own age, the Mechwarrior dropped the last of the short distance to the ground and strode over with a beaming, wrinkled smile.
Only the man’s face betrayed his 50 odd years of age. With firm skin over large toned muscles showing from the sleeveless cooling vest and traditional mechwarrior shorts, the bear of a man radiated power and confidence.

“Cees my boy! It’s good to have you back home at last.” he boomed, extending his hand.
Cees remained exactly as he was, eyes fixed firmly above the man’s head, “Good day, your Grace.”
Duke Thomas Frederick Bradford lowered his hand slowly and allowed his face to display the hint of a frown.
“Come now Cees, is that any way to greet your uncle? I really am glad to see you.”

“Undoubtedly so, your Grace. I too am glad that my presence heartens you.”

“Dammit Cees! This again?” he growled at his nephew’s over-polite impertinence, “You know I didn’t come here to swap pleasantries. I’m trying to talk to you.”
“And indeed we are talking, your grace,” Cees tilted his head in well practiced feigned confusion.

“Look Cees,” the duke lowered his voice even further in annoyance, stepping in closer, “I know you’re upset about what happened. I really do. But unless you…”

“No!” a mask of rage dropped over the younger man’s face as his decorum shattered, “You don't know! You never tried to understand what I had to deal with before, you were completely blind to what really happened when she...”
Come on... say it... say it! F***!
The duke made to interrupt but Cees kept barrelling on, years of frustration driving him to yell with frightening coherence.
“Years, I spent in her shadow, my entire time at the academy. All the while you sat and watched, patting her on the head and chiming in with my father about how she had ‘so much potential to be a fine officer.’ Never mind that I outscored her in practically everything. Hell, the only reason she was set to graduate before me was because the chancellor’s board wouldn't accelerate me to her semester. A board that YOU sat on!”

“STOP!” the duke thundered, turning heads of other workers far away from their bay. He sidled in closer, almost nose to nose with the furious young man.
“I know -exactly- what went on. Do you think it was easy? Watching your father obsess over her and what that did to you? I’m not stupid Cees, and neither are you. If I tried to help you in any way, make him see reason, your ***** father would think it was some mad plot to turn you against him. I know what he’s like, I grew up with him. Your grandfather was exactly the same with the two of us. For god’s sake, the only reason I’m duke and not him is because I was fortunate enough to be born first!”
He grabbed Cees by the shoulders and shook him firmly, “More than that, I didn’t help you because you didn't need it. You’re exceptional Cees, the best damn military mind in the commonwealth short of Victor Davion. You’re just too... bitter.”
He sighed and squeezed his shoulders, “Her dying affected all of us. I loved her, but she was a glory seeking, jealous b!tch. Denying her the state funeral your father asked for because she charged their line without orders would have forced him to see that. Things were too unstable for him to start getting ideas…” he chuffed and shook his head, trailing off.

Cees had to fight to keep his anger fueled against the revelations, “You could have… you could have told me in private! Knowing that you were aware of it all…”
The duke let Cees shrug his steadying hands off of his slight shoulders.

“No. I couldn’t have. I’m sorry Cees, I really am. But as crazy as he is, your father is a perceptive man. He’d have known. I couldn’t take the risk.”

Cees gave a last snarl of defiance, “So what, you cared more about her than…” he looked down at the pavement and screwed his eyes shut,” F***, uncle, I looked up to you!”
Come on! You’re an officer, not a muleing child at court. Act like it!

The duke pulled back slightly, Cees swore he caught a flash of pain in the older man’s eyes once he’d looked back up.
“I’m sorry, that’s all I can say. But I know you understand the reasons why.”

The two stood in awkward silence for a moment.

“Fine. Yes, I understand,” Cees crossed his arms defensively, “but why now, why tell me now rather than then?”

“Trouble is coming Cees, this thing with Katherine and Victor isn’t just going to blow over.”
“Katrina,” Cees corrected.

“Don’t remind me,” the duke winced, “She’s not half the woman her Grandmother was. Victor is the rightful heir to the Fed-Com throne and what she’s doing…”

“So what, you need me here now so we can play happy families again?”

The duke narrowed his eyes, “I’d like having a sound strategic officer to take on pressing issues.”

Cees scoffed, “ I guess it’s probably well that all I am to you is a good little soldier. Look where ‘being loved’ got Stasia.”
Cees watched as the sadness and frustration played out over his uncle’s face, but the restraint born of decades of leadership kept him from expelling his feelings.

“I don’t know what else to tell you Cees,” he managed in a startlingly familiar cold and even tone, “But if you’re determined to be contrary, then that’s fine by me. “
He matched Cees’ still stiff stance, eying off the dropship, “Thom Frankfurt is a dangerous man and moves in... interesting circles. I trust you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

He knows about the Terrors? Just how much does he know about what’s going on...?
“I’m well aware of my CO’s background, yes. On that note, how did you know I was here?”

The duke regarded him with a sly grin, “You didn’t think you could name drop your almighty uncle on Outreach and have it not get back to me did you? The Wolves and I are old friends.”

{Scrap}! That was stupid, shouldn’t have showed off...
“You know where we’re going then?”

The duke nodded slowly, “I have my suspicions, yes.”

“They’re going to pay for what they did here,” Cees suppressed a snarl.

His uncle frowned disapprovingly, “Killing Falcons isn’t going to bring Stasia back.”

Cees couldn’t help but bark a deranged laugh, the irony too much for him, “You still don’t understand uncle, I don’t want to avenge her death. I could care less that she’s dead. Destroying those who killed her will finally prove that I’m better than her.”

“Cees, it was her pride that killed her, not the Falcons. They were simply the sword she fell on,” the duke’s frown had turned flat into concern.
Cees chuckled manically.
“Oh I know. But only you and I are aware of that. True, knowing that you saw how stupid she was half-finishes the job. But until everyone here knows how I bested her killers, when...” Cees lip curled, “he realises his darling, precious daughter failed where I succeeded, then, and only then will I return home.”
He allowed his favourite grin to creep onto his face, “Cees Anthonissen-Bradford, the White Wolf of Coventry, scourge of the Jade Falcon Clan. Every Falcon will know my name. Every man, woman and child on this planet will forget the valiant charge of the Duke’s niece, too young to die, and remember the man who took the fight to the all-powerful aggressors, annihilating the Clanners who dared attack their home.”

Shaking his head in the face of his nephew’s obsession, the duke held up his hand to halt the tirade.
“I wish you were my son.”
The simple statement wiped the grin from Cees’ face.
Wh... what did he say?
“I wish you were my son so I could beat some sense into you. Alas, your father would disapprove.”
When Cees failed to respond, he looked back at the dropship and continued, “You have a command?”

How can he just say that? Does he know how long I’ve wanted him to say something, anything close to that? And then to use it to berate me...
“Y...yes,” he stammered, clearing his throat to mask the pain, “Company XO. Though with Mr Frankfurt being, well... Mr Frankfurt, I do everything but give the orders.”

If the duke noticed Cees falter, he didn’t show it. He nodded slowly again, “Everyone in your command will hate the clans for their own reason. Never presume that what drives you to fight is better, or more important than what drives them. Don’t sacrifice them on the altar of your vengeance.”

“Don’t get my men killed. Yes uncle, I understand what’s involved in a military command.”

“Do you?” the duke crossed his arms back at him, “They’re not students Cees, not like before. They followed you then because their homes were burning, because you stepped up and broke their panic. The people on that ship chose to sign on to whatever crusade you’re embarking on. It cuts both ways. They’re going to believe that their own reasons are superlative to yours. You need to rise above the clash of wants and needs and channel their anger intelligently.”

“I thought you came to talk to me, not lecture me on leadership strategy.”

“I’m trying...” the duke glowered, “But you’re making it remarkably difficult.”
Cees kept his gaze locked onto the duke, but said nothing, daring him to continue. Resigned, the duke sighed a final time.
“You’ve made up your mind, I can see that. I know I’m not going to dissuade you. Just, please, come back home alive.”

“Message received and understood, your Grace,” Cees returned to his over-polite tone and snapped to attention, signalling the end of the conversation.
His uncle nodded sharply and turned back toward the ladder of his mech.
Cees watched him walk back for a moment, before turning for the dropship.
How dare he presume to lecture me? He thinks he can just apologise and make it better?

“And Cees,” his uncle boomed from the hatch of his cockpit. He waited until Cees had turned back to him, “I’ve always been proud of you. Don’t disappoint me.”

Cees stood in shock long enough for his uncle to step into the Atlas’ head and seal it shut, preventing a reply.
He remained standing there, expression locked on his face, watching the mech recede back into the city.
After a minute, the same tech approached cautiously, “Umm, El Tee? Was that...?”
“Yes,” Cees stated simply, turning to the man. The tech winced in anticipation. To his surprise, it was for nothing.
Cees was smiling.
“He’s my uncle. And he’s proud of me.”

Edited by The Shepherd, 04 September 2013 - 02:10 PM.


#47 Listless Nomad

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Posted 16 September 2013 - 02:27 PM

Hydroponic Bay A “The Bar at the End of the Universe”
Jumpship Drunkard’s Walk
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
2nd April, 3061, 23:30 Hours

“So then, he steps into a big watery ditch and faceplants onto a vibromine – killing the pilot. I got the heck out of there as soon as I could, but I always remembered that mech. And now she’s mine.”

Andrew was having the time of his life. He had a good buzz going, he was relaxed, and he was in the company of a beautiful young woman. She was wearing a blue blouse and black slacks, a remarkable change from her usual dirty overalls. He couldn’t keep himself from staring when she had first arrived, and Andrew couldn’t help but notice that she appeared to be more than a little interested in him. He’d noticed throughout the night that they’d brushed hands or smiled at one another a little too often to pass off as random chance. Over the past few months, Zoé had basically rebuilt his mech for him, redoing a lot of the shoddy repairs he’d attempted by himself. Throughout the process, the two of them had become fast friends, and she had helped Andrew come to terms a little bit more with his personal demons. He still occasionally had nightmares, but they didn’t rule him as they had before.

Tonight, as he’d promised weeks before, he’d invited her out for a drink in one of the hydroponic bays onboard the jumpship. It was an incredible place, having been turned into a rather serviceable bar by the crew of the Drunkard. They grew all of the plants needed to make their own alcohol, and despite the lack of gravity, had fashioned a rather comfortable drinking area. To one side was a nearly floor to ceiling transparent view port, offering an unequalled view of the star their were currently stationed above. Although massively shielded to protect them from the radiation and the light, it still provided a magnificent view of the space outside the ship. Throughout the night he’d been telling his old war stories, leaving out the more painful bits while still trying to keep it interesting for Zoé. To her credit, she seemed to be hanging on every word he said.

“You know…most people get pretty bored when I get going like this. I’m surprised you haven’t told me to shut up yet.”

"It's interesting. Not like the holos. More...gritty. Detailed. Not just numbers and troop movements and generals posing for the camera. You make me feel what it must have felt like, not just what happened."

"I hope you never have to experience what it feels like for real. I've told you about my nightmares before…it's not pleasant. I don't regret volunteering for Bird Dog, but I miss quiet nights." Andrew laughed to try to dispel the darkening mood. "But enough of my darkness for the moment. do you have any interesting stories of adventure to share?"

"We, uh that is, my class, started an archeology dig at one point on Kalidasa. We tore up most of the ground floor of a car park with some earth moving equipment and had plaster casts of bones stuck in the dirt underneath. We convinced three newspapers and a university funding committee that it was the greatest find of prehistoric life on Kalidasa, before someone realised it was a hoax and brought the police in. There wasn't shooting or anything, they just talked to us and made us repair the floor, but...yeah," she blushed, "See, this is what I mean. You've got real stories. Proper adventures. All I've got is tales of pranking some gullible reporters."

Andrew smiled and took another swig from his drink. "No. No. That's an awesome adventure. I don't have much fondness for reporters; I'm glad someone was able to get one over on them. How did you end up working with Adrianna?”

"Ha! Well, really, that should be the other way around. Adrianna has ended up working with me," Zoé said, "See, my dad knows some people in Quickscell, and they hired me in to work on the early stages of the Ardent-5 development project. I was straight out of college, so it wasn't anything fancy, but I've been working on the Ardent since it was just a sketch. I was working on integrating it with the Centurion before Adrianna ever appeared on the scene. So really, I'm not the tech for her BattleMech, she's the pilot for my gun," she added with mock pride.

Andrew let out a low whistle and gave a few small claps at her source of pride. Raising his glass to her as a toast, he gave Zoé a genuine smile. "My hat's off to you Zoé, I've seen that wonders that you've worked on the 'Cat. I've never seen a finer tech. I wish I had you to myself more often." Andrew blushed, realizing only afterward how his words could be interpreted.
Taking another quick swig of his drink, Andrew quickly added, "Adrianna must be a little upset that I've been occupying so much of your time with my mech. Is the Ardent-5 ready to go?"

"As ready as it can be," she said confidently, "I'm sure we'll encounter some snags on the ground, but it is meant to be a combat trial, after all. We'll smooth them out. I've already got some ideas for a more efficient power distribution manifold based on the way the Clans built your Mad Cat. If you are ever interested, you can check out my RAC any time.” Andrew’s mouth fell open slightly and Zoé giggled. “See, it's a joke, because I'm actually talking about the rotary autocannon, but it sounds like I'm talking about my...you know what, never mind, it was a terrible pun."

Andrew rolled his eyes and tried to stifle a burp but was only partially successful. “Excuse me. Well I’ve seen what that puppy can do in the real world. Is this the first time working up close with clan tech?”

Zoé nodded. "In the wild, at least. There was a Clan laser I got to watch being taken apart during my degree, and we examined some Clan ultra autocannon components while researching the Ardent, but it was much more...researchy. Academic."

"Not quite like seeing the clan tech's name written on the tubing is it? The last time someone crawled inside there, they were on a different world, with a different culture, and on a different side of the war. Strange to think about…"

"Yeah...Wow, I'd never really thought about that." Zoé stared into the myriad stars outside the jumpship's window, a faint smile arching her lips. "I wonder who they were."

A few drinks later, Andrew could feel himself starting to slip into much more relaxed state. Their conversation had petered off quite a bit, and now only a few meaningless stories floated between them. By this time, Zoé had, had a few drinks herself, and she was more giggly than usual. Before he knew it, Andrew caught himself staring at Zoé ‘s chest. Cursing himself, he looked up quickly, but it was obvious that she had seen him staring. Suddenly, Zoé reached over and grabbed Wheeler and began to kiss him fully on the mouth.

Cabin 8C
Jumpship Drunkard’s Walk
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
3nd April, 3061, 05:30 Hours

Wheeler wasn’t proud of what he’d done. The alcohol had eventually gotten the better of him, and he’d allowed himself to make poor decisions. As he lay suspended against the wall, his train of thought was interrupted by Zoé rolling over and wrapping one of her legs around his, drawing him closer for warmth as they shared the Zero G sleeping bag in her temporary cabin. The previous night had been incredible for Andrew, a well needed release of emotion and tension that seemed to work out well for the both of them. Indeed, he could even see something coming of their budding relationship. However, what kept Wheeler awake and kicking himself was the fact that they were about to enter a war zone. In a few short days they were going to be jumping into the unknown, where it is very likely that he could be killed or seriously wounded. Andrew had seen what relationships looked like in warzones, and they never ended well. Cursing his lack of self control for what seemed like the millionth time that morning, Andrew gingerly tried to slip out of the sleeping bag, but was instead pulled closer to Zoé. She wrapped herself around him tightly and sleepily kissed him on the cheek.

“Don’t go. Stay…” she managed to say through a yawn before falling back asleep. Now hopelessly entrapped, Wheeler simply lay there, eyes fixed on the far wall of the cabin, wondering exactly what it was he had done.

Edited by Listless Nomad, 16 September 2013 - 03:41 PM.


#48 Thom Frankfurt

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Posted 17 September 2013 - 09:20 AM

Dropship Gantry 7
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 11:10
Cargo bay

Wordlessly Thom made his way down the gangway towards Cees and was about to offer a greeting when he noticed the albino shudder. Keeping his silence, the Warlockian stood there a moment studying the man as he looked over the bustling spaceport, it's various military dropships, the newish looking comcenter, and the small army of transport techs go about their business. The man then shuddered again.

Silently walking on up, Thom placed his hand upon his XO's shoulder.

"Yo! It'sa good ta be home ay?" Cees turned to face Thom, a plastic smile upon his face.

"Yes," he stated simply, opening his eyes and trying to mimic Thom's almost childish grin, "I suppose it is."

"Youse gonna catch up wit any war buddies while ya here?" Cees let out a short, derisive laugh, "I dont have 'buddies' Thom. They were classmates. And even if I wanted to visit them, I'd need a shovel and directions to the city cemetery to do it."

Thom's grin faded. He opened his mouth and began to stammer a reply. Cees held up and hand and cut him off. "Sorry, sorry," Cees lowered his hand to Thom's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, "you didnt deserve that. It's just... bad memories."

The albino then gave a genuine, apologetic smile, "I'd appreciate it if we could just conduct whatever business we need to and leave."

Thom nodded slowly and smiled back, as if understanding. "Okays. Youse still good t' manage the cargo and handling da procurement?"

"Of course," he returned immediately to his normal demeanor, "I'll wait for the shipments here. Please do try to place the orders in a timely manner?"

Throwing off his concern and returning back to his old self too, Thom gave him one of his shrimp eating grins, "What makesya tink I wouldn't?" Cees arched a white eyebrow, "I happen to know that there are a number of bars between here and both Ceres and Coventry Metal Works. All of them stocking some of the best beer in the Commonwealth, most produced right here on Coventry. If anyone 'accidentally' stumbled into one -before- we've done what we need to here, it would push back our schedule significantly and unacceptably. Savvy?" he said more than asked, borrowing one of Thom's favorite expressions.

Thom laughed heartily and clapped Cees on the back, beginning to walk away, "Yeah yeah, I savvy. I'll be back before ya knows it."

Unbeknownst to Thom, behind him Cees shook his head in only half mock dismay at the man's infectious attitude, before calling after him.

"And Thom," T turned to regard his abnormal XO, "I'd also appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that I'm here." Thom nodded his understanding and returned to his job at hand. Tossing his concern to the wind, he reminded himself that he was on the clock. With a spring in his step, Thom began hoofing it across the spaceport's tarmac. Some random song came to mind and he found himself singing.

"Da girlies likes me because I'sa wear da nice clothes's, dey sees da bulges when I'sa strike da right poses... dey pulls my apants down an ask if deys can blow dis, I'sa say 'yes' if deys awant Halitosi-." Honk!! Honk!! "He get out of the road Jacka$$!" Shouted the driver from a cargo transport that swerved out of Thom's way. The Warlockian whirled on the craft, rewarding it's driver with the finger "HEY YO FUNK YOU'S BUDDY! I'MSA WALKING HERE!!" Giggling Thom then meandered his way off of the spaceport grounds.

Cees was right about the bars. There was one particularly seedy looking dive that Thom passed called 'Searounders' that was constructed out of what looked like old weathered wooden beams with the places name lit up in red neon lights in an ancient looking pilot's wheel. Thom was tempted to head on over to check out the places insides as he watched a several spacers head into the place, but he promised to be a good boy and wait until his business with Ceres was concluded before getting his drink on. With that in mind, T hailed a cab to speed things up.
_______________________________________________

Ceres Metals Installation#137
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 12:28
[barrowed from L&D Act 1]

"Alright buddy, this is the place." Remarked the cab driver, breaking the silence and startling Thom out of his thoughts. Thom in return looked over the building through the rain pattered window, seeing nothing more than bright neon green lights blurred and obscured through the wet window.

"Did is da place?" He asked for confirmation.

"That's what I said, Mac. You said Ceres Metals, right?" Replied the irritated cabby. Thom looked over at the meter which read 11 Kroner as the fare. He handed the guy 15 crumpled C-bills.

"Keep it."

Not waiting for a response, he exited the vehicle and rain instantly pounded against his head instantly soaking his ever longing mohawk and making him wish he had brought his jacket.

Cees is gonna flay me alive if I get sick...

He dispelled the thought as the yellow hover cab zipped off on a cushion of air and in the process spraying him with water. T glared at the speeding off vehicle and flipped him the bird.

"YO FUNK YOU!!!"

Thom then turned to the structure before him. Steps led up to the glass double doors of the sprawling two story building. Stretching outward for almost a square kilometer the building was indeed massive. But considering that it was the Ceres Metals branch for the largest producer of mechs and their components in the entire Inner Sphere, he wouldn't expect less. He looked over the animated neon lights, showing a swanky looking Vindicator mech standing tall then extending out its right arm spewing out bright blue light of a PPC blast which lit up with the name 'Ceres Metals.' He chuckled and taking the steps two at a time headed on up for the double doors.

Sighing he tugged open the glass door and was greeted by two things. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and perky greeting of the receptionist.

"Good evening sir, and welcome to Ceres Metals!" Beamed the young girl who looked and sounded like she was enjoying more than her fair share of the coffee.

"Ah, umm... Hiya." Thom managed to stamper out despite being at a loss for words.

"If there's anything you need, just ask." She perkily (is that even a word?) responded. "Yeah's do you's have like's a cataloge or somethings?"

"Sure do!" She quickly handed him a thick near tome like book. He graciously took the catalogue and took a seat in one of the chairs in the lobby. He sat down on the leathery seat and then took a second to look around before opening up the booklet.

Large vid screens took up each corner depicting Ceres Metals products and demonstrations of their effectiveness. In one corner played an add for the Ceres Arms Warrior ERPPC, showing how it was more durable and effective (and cheaper!) than other companies models. Another corner showed a gladiatorial fight between a Vindicator and a Whitworth, a fight which ended with the Whitworth getting decapitated by the Vindy's ERPPC. The far corner had demonstrations on the new Ceres Metals model 666 communication system. While the other had promotional videos offering a tour of a Ceres Metals plant.

He looked over the counter set up on the far wall with a strange exotic coffee machine, which had the perky girl filling up a cup. He then took a good look of some of the rooms other occupants. A couple of MechWarriors by the looks of it, and a few delivery truck operators.

Thom then turned to the book and began searching for the civilian items section, in the back of the book he found what he was searching for. Item #KWI4564288: Ceres Metals 'Krack' insta freeze sectional walk in refrigerator and freezer He chuckled stuck his finger in the book to mark the page then got up and got himself an espresso.

"Find everything your looking for?" It was the hyped up girl again. She was starting to give him the creeps.

"Um.... yeah." He managed to say then went to wait in line behind what he guessed was a Samurai Jack looking MechWarrior from the Draconis Combine. The guy reeked of curry. He held his espresso up to his mouth to help mask the scent and was grateful. A short time later Reek left to go sit back down in one of the seats as his order was being processed. And he stepped up to take his place.

"Hello Sir, welcome to Ceres Metals." The girl at the desk recited in a drawled out and really exhausted sounding voice. Thom plopped down the catalogue and pointed at the itemed he wanted.

"I'da like tos get dis." The Warlockian said to the young lady who rewarded him with a look like he just rap3d the English language.

"I'm sorry... Ah, your accent, it's so thick..." the brunnete looked confused and like she didn't know what to do. She tried speaking to him in other languages for a second. It sounded like French, German, and maybe Italian to him. None of which he cound speak.bIn frustration he mashed a finger down on the item and growled out the words.

"I'da like tos get dis."

"Sorry Sir, I'm not able to understand you..." She stammered out an apology.

"Jesus Amanda, he's saying he wants whatever he's pointing at." Stated another office worker a sharp featured skinny thing with piercing green eyes. She strolled over to the counter and looked over the item he was pointing at and seeing what he pointed at, she quirked her brow and looked him in the eye. "Seriously?" She blurted out. With a smirk he nodded.
____________________________________________
Ceres Metals Installation#137
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 14:01
[barrowed from L&D Act 1]

"Mr Frankfurt?" blared over the intercom snapping Thom out of a particularly nice dream and back to the here and now. Looking around, he slowly became aware of where he was and shook his head to clear it. Embarrassed he looked over at the window and saw the petite girl with the sharp features looking at him curiously. Blushing, he stood up and swaggered on over to where she waited behind the bullet proofed plexi glass.

"Comfy chairs eh?" She asked in perfect Russian and cracked a feral grin. "Yeah's... way more's comfortable den a's command console." He stretched then stifled a yawn. "Well we're almost done here, there's some final paperwork and the matter of your payment." She added. "Oh yeah's... How much again?" He crinkled up his brow while fishing out immaculate looking black card emblazoned with the Illium Shipyard's logo.

"That will be 25,220 C-bills. And the work crews should arrive around 1:30 AM local time tomorrow morning to begin installation." He nodded as she spoke, still in Russian. Then she pointed out where to sign on a small mound of papers and he took up the offered pen and began to scribble his signature on all the highlighted sections.

"Excellent. Thank you very much, ahh.. Alexandria." He eyeballed her nametag.

"No, thank you for choosing Ceres Metals." She chirped back at him.

He smiled at her then turned for the door. It was gonna be a long walk back to the spaceport. Thankfully the storm that soaked him earlier had moved on leaving Coventry's star smiling down on him.
_______________________________
First Lord's Plaza
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 14:48

Damn, these are some bomb chili-cheese fries. Thom thought while tearing into the mound of cheesy chili covered potato heavenliness smothered in sauerkraut. He really wished he had a beer to wash it all down, but there was still work to be done. With a sigh he turned in his seat on the outside patio and looked over at the Grocer's Outlet Superstore and wondered how long it'd take them to procure everything that they'd need to stock up the Pride's walk in once it finally got installed. Then how much extra it'd cost to have the food stuffs delivered.

Right then there as a squealing of tires from the nearby street as someone slammed on the brakes, quickly followed by a loud crunch. Thom quickly turned towards the road where he saw a black van hop over the curb and crash through the Plaza's sign while the other auto, a white truck hopped and tumbled down the main streets island in true race car crash fashion. He got up and calmly found himself walking in the direction of the wreck stopping only long enough to snatch up his napkins.

"Somebody's callsa ambulance!!" He shouted at the eatery as he neared the site. Grocery's were strewn all across the street for a good thirty meters, apparently the truck's passengers came from the grocery store. Sticking his head in through the van's shattered driver's side window he surveyed the ghastly scene.

"Anybody alive?" He asked and was rewarded by movement the driver turning to look at him, his face a red ruin. "Here." Thom tossed him the napkins then went to check on the other auto which was laying on its side. A crowd was gathering, people from all the local businesses as well as people who stopped their cars to help out their fellow man, as well as a short puddgy woman acting like she was in charge of everything. Thom ignored her. A trio of men were trying in vain to pull the passengers from the wreck. Wordlessly Thom quickly found himself climbing up to join them. He shoved one to da side and began climbing in, but his way was blocked by another would be rescuer.

"Dude, get's da funk outta way!" Thom shouted while pulling his knife and starting to cut their seatbelts. The ceramic blade cut through the restraints easily, he then began on the other too passengers restraints as the other men hoisted the other to safety.
__________________

Fifteen minutes later Thom found himself giving his statement to a Port St. Williams police man. He explained that he was eating over at Coney Island Connie's, that he didn't see the actual crash but saw the van smash through the sign and the other auto 'flippity-flopping' down the island. He went into what he thought happened and his part in the aiding rescuers. When the cop asked for his personal info Thom answered truthfully to the best of his ability. His last permanent address Warlock Stables, 1112 Dickerson Avenue, Solaris City, Solaris 7.

"Your name?" Thom let out a sigh. "Thom Frankfurt." Impassively the cop scribbled down his info while a murmur ran through the bystanders and others in the crowd near him. After the officer finished with his statement, Thom was approached by a couple dozen people asking for autographs and photos taken with him. As well as the manager of Coney Island Connie's taking a photo of him to post up in the eatery and pestering him about a possible sponsorship deal when his remaining three year suspension ended in exchange for free eats. In disgust Thom stormed off to finish his chores.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 17 September 2013 - 04:56 PM.


#49 Thom Frankfurt

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  • LocationSearounders Tavern, Port St. Williams, Coventry

Posted 17 September 2013 - 07:36 PM

Port St. Williams
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 18:14

A few hours later Thom found himself finished with his chores. The desired groceries and consumables had been ordered, with an over abundance of canned goods and a good several hundred pounds of hearty root vegetables that would hold a good long shelf life when stowed away in mech bay three. He even added several three gallon (11.4L) tubs of ice cream. But the items weren't to be delivered till after the crews from Ceres installed the new walk in. Till then he'd have to front the bill for the crew eating at the Spaceport's cafeteria.

He even had the time to stop at the local ComStar installation and picked up a nice sized stack of messages for the Molas family which he dropped of at the 'Pride to much praise from the Spacer Family. But his messages he kept in a separate bundle with a change of clothes and headed off towards the Spaceport's service buildings hoping to sneak in and get himself a much deserved hot shower. Forty five minutes later, the Warlockian emerged combed and dressed for a night on the town, a fresh set of cargo pants, his combat boots, a 'Killing is my Business and Business is Good' T-shirt and his trademark studded leather jacket. With that he headed off in search of the dive bar he seen earlier in the day.
____________________________

[Sorry Rogue and all bar worshippers, it had to be done.]

Searounders, Port St. Williams
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 19:46

Searounders was just as much of a dive as Thom thought it would have been if not even more so. It was poorly lit, with a permanent pall of tobacco smoke haze that was lazily chopped and stirred up by the three swaying loose mounted ceiling fans. The walls were the same ancient wooden looking planks that made up the outside, course and rough they were for the most part unadorned save for neon lights advertising some of Cees described as the 'best local brewed beers in the Commonwealth.' There were two billiard tables towards the back where several rowdy drunken space marines played amongst themselves various games of pool. The bar itself was designed to look like the gunwale of a black water vessel, a big one judging by the immense size of he thing. Behind the bar a massive mirror framed between the jaws of what must have been an gargantuan sized shark.

So in this dive Thom found himself seated in a corner booth with his back towards the wall skimming over the messages he'd received earlier from ComStar by the neon light cast from some local brew advertisement. Stopping to sip from time to time of the same local brew that made him wish that this dive had his much loved Timburki Dark, instead of this beer flavored water they were pouring. With a bitter sigh he turned his attention back to the message he received from Kaylee.

Dear Thom,

I am concerned for your father. He spends his days alone in the overlook looking down upon the mechyard in silence. His gaze never wavering from Pain Bringer and that Manowar you dropped off a couple of years ago. Thom, I feel that his time is short and that you are needed here. Please come-

The table being suddenly jarred pulled Thom's gaze from the missive. Judging by the uniform and stereotypical blonde hair and bule eyes the man had to be some sort of Lyran spacer, but the man's size screamed otherwise. The man was massive, hugely muscled, and too tall to be any dropship crewmen so Thom had to guess Space Marine. And he was obviously very, very, drunk.

"Wrong table, homie." Thom stated then went back to reading Kay's message. "I need a drink." The Lyran slurred, Thom shot back. "Dude, I'sa tink you'sa hads plenty enoughs." The Lyran slammed his fist into the table jarring everything and making Thom's beer slosh about in it's glass. "I said I need a drink. Buy me a drink, slant."

Slant? Oh, Hell no. "Hey looks dude, I'sa don't want no problems." Thom stated defensively while eyeballing the man. His gaze then drifted pass the man's shoulder and took in the brutes two space marine buddies who where well muscled yet not ridiculously so like the bull necked freak in front of him. But thankfully they were just as drunk if not more so than 'No-neck' before him.

"Well, you're going to have a bunch of medical problems if you don't buy me a drink." The brute coiled up as if he was making ready to spring on him. "Fine. I'llsa get you a drink." Thom stated not seeing anyway out of the fight before him. His response also seemed to catch 'Roid-rager' off balance as confusion flashed across the drunk's face. Thom then quickly folded up his messages and put them on his inside breast pocket, but while his hand was there he thumbed off the fastener for his Nakjama laser pistol, just in case... He then got up and headed toward the bar, conscious to the marines muttered insults of bi*ch and p*ssy as well as several racial comments and insults. Despite this on the outside Thom was calm, but seething with rage by the time he made it to the bar.

"Yo Sweetheart, I'sa likes ta get a's drink fer my's friend over der. And a shot of Black Label for myself..." Thom placed a knuckle whitening grip upon the bar/gunwales lip as a series of drunken chuckles sounded behind him followed by a new chorus of insults. He eyeballed the various beers finally settling on one, a long green triangular bottle. "Yeah get em a bottle's of 'Pyramid. Dat looks like a good Lyran beer. Oh yeah an can I'sa get my tab too." The bartender, a rather unremarkable bodied young woman in her twenties with a cute though plainish face went to get the bottle from the cooler and fetch his bill. Thom pounded his shot as though trying to squelch the rising fury, but was unable to do so. The bartender placed his bill and 'Iron Vultures' credit card before him and whispered her thanks for leaving peaceably. Thom gauged that Searounder's was apparently quite famous for drunken brawls.

"Tanks Alyssa." Thom said reading her nametag then looked over the bill finding it to only be for only 10 c-bills. Thom looked over his shoulder at the drunken crowd, the poor lighting, shoddy furnishings, and interior. And put in for a tip of 90 C-bills, which caused Alyssa's bright eyes to light up aglow. Thom then scribbled in 'Achilles Pride, Gantry #7 and winked at the girl. He then took up the green bottle of Pyramid and strolled across the bar, ignoring the hurled insults. He took his receipt and deftly folding it up and slipped it into his pocket, where he slipped on his brass knuckles.

Sigh. Time to shine "Hey buddy, I'sa got your beer..." The brute turned from where he was, a lecherous grin on his face. "I GOTS YA BEER RIGHT HERE!!!" With that T deftly let his grip to slip enough to grab the bottle about the neck he then swung it like a haymaker crashing into the brute's face, with the bottle's edge biting in deeply over the man's temple. The drunk dropped in a heap. Whirling about Thom threw out his brass knuckle covered fist with all his might at where the brute's nearest friend was charging Thom with a knife raised overhead in some sort of drunken power stab. Thom felt a tug on his jacket as the knife bit in, but kept his eyes on the drunk's face which erupted in a spectacular shower of red as the knuckleduster smashed him square in the mouth. The man dropped like a marionette who's strings just been cut.

Crack! The pool cue snapped as it smashed into Thom's arm. Pain lanced down the arm as the broken half of the stick flew off somewhere behind T. Growling Thom whipped out his Nakjama as the drunken marine stood there dumbfounded that the Warlockian managed to weather his blow or that the pool cue snapped Thom was sure, and he didn't care. Despite the throbbing pain, Thom managed to bring the pistol up in line the marine's face causing the other drunken patrons to back off on mobbing the MechWarrior.

[Walt Kowalski moment.]

"You's aknow how dat every once in awhile you'sa come across somebodys dat you's really shouldn't funk wit, well dat's me. Alook, a-hole. I'msa having's a good day an I'llsa hate tos have it end wit me in jail an you'sa dead. Back da funk off!" The man backed on up, yet the pistol never wavered from the face. With pistol still drawn, Thom retrieved his rucksack then followed the wall to the door. He then retreated off to the Pride, to wait for what may come, wet as October bar wench or the police.

[Edit: Spelling and fixing a word or two.]

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 29 September 2013 - 12:49 AM.


#50 Spokes

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Posted 19 September 2013 - 07:54 PM

Bunk Compartment #4
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061-- 11:00 Hrs

"Alright, steady up out there! Let's go, pick it up!"

The team separated, arms extending, fingertips maintaining contact for one last moment as the huddle broke. Li faded to her position at center court, grip shoes making a distinctive chuff sound as she hopped backwards over the partially smoothed stone surface.

The chamber was large, an old morchel farm that had been converted into a sports arena nearly two hundred meters in diameter. The rectangular court ran most of that distance, with steep rows of wisp thin bleachers on either side. Li grinned at that, could always pick out the one or two offworlders standing at the bottom, no faith that the thin supports were more than sufficient in the low gravity. The stands were more than half empty though, many of the parents choosing to watch over closed circuit tri-vid. The arena was easily the largest chamber in the subterranean barrow, and agoraphobia was a constant problem.

More shouting from the sidelines, more motion, hand signals now. Li's left arm came up, four fingers held aloft, her teammates following suit and shifting into position. The sound of a whistle cut through the voices, and suddenly everyone was in motion, white jerseys trying to put distance between red jerseys, shouts of encouragement from the court, from the stands. Li took two loping strides toward her own sideline before pivoting suddenly and taking off for the opposing goal. The red jersey kept pace, but Li could see at least one other start to turn in her direction. It was enough-- the deep buzz of the discus cut through the air as it was thrown into play. The sound cut out with a wet slap as someone caught the weighted disk, only to pick back up as it was sent sailing diagonally back across the court.

Li drifted farther toward the goal, bounding backwards in the light gravity. The two red jerseys trailing after seemed to realize their mistake simultaneously, then compounded it by both pulling away towards center court, the two of them suddenly guarding no one. The shot of adrenaline was followed immediately by shouts of recognition from the other side of the court. Li launched into a full sprint, pulling away from the defenders as the snap-hum of the discus sounded in the distance.

Li took a quick look over her shoulder to gauge the throw, and then ran hard down the court, shoes chuffing on the stone with each elongated stride. The two defenders pounded after her, their footfalls audible over her own labored breathing. Li listened to the buzz of the disc as she ran, didn't need to look, made an adjustment, waited for the Doppler shift and then launched into a spinning jump.

The discus had gone past her and was hooking back high and in front. Li scissored her legs out, slowing her spin so that she was facing the discus just as it made contact. She grabbed it with her right hand, the shock of the impact running up her arm as her left hand came across to secure it. There was a flash of motion passing below.

White jerseys.

The impact carried her away from the defenders, and Li mentally counted the number of steps as she landed, coming to a sliding stop a few meters away-- kneeling position, discus cradled protectively in both arms, no penalty steps.

There was a roar of sound now, the small crowd artificially loud in the enclosed space, everyone seeing the gap in the defense, the single red jersey hovering near the goal line. Li uncoiled, firing the discus low under the outstretched arm of the nearest defender. It lifted high off the court, and then curved downward in the direction of the white jersey on the other side. Li didn't look, was already running, faster, her pulse singing in her ears along with the roar from the crowd, nothing to stop them now, the lone defender badly outmatched, nothing left but speed and luck and nerve.

Her teammate jumped and snapped the discus back across the court mid air. The throw was high and Li corrected, muscles straining, a blur of red off to one side, one last surge of people looking down at her, more gathering close, soft voices, strobing flashes of light from an emergency cart. One face bending close, the coach, calm expression, eyes blazing with concern. "Li, can you hear me?"

"Mom? What. . ."

"It's okay Kit, just lie still."

Li's cheeks burned at the nickname-- her mother hadn't called her that for years, and rarely before that. She tried to shift, realized she couldn't. She looked down, her own hand in her mother's white knuckled grip. Li tried to return the squeeze, but her hand wouldn't respond. She realized she couldn't feel her mother's hand, her own arm.

I can't move. Why can't I move?! "Mom?" The sound was more a croak than a word, her throat raw.

Her mother's face pulled away, and Li found herself being lifted, realized she was strapped to a stretcher, the crowd parting as the cart came closer.

Her field of view shifted, and suddenly the stretcher had sides, white lining, an open lid. Her parents where both there, red eyes, tears. Li couldn't move. The sky beyond was a brilliant blue, white clouds, sunlight. Somewhere, part of her mind woke up enough to call bull****, no blue sky at home, the nightmare disbelieved. Her father reached up and closed the lid, the darkness complete. She could feel herself dropping, soft sounds now, dirt falling on and around the casket, a rush of panic, her arms working now, hammering against the closed lid. . .

Li's eyes snapped open to absolute darkness, one long, shuddering breath, her mind still thick with sleep. She stretched and her elbow connected with a solid metal surface close on her right side. Panic and adrenaline, her hands came up to claw at the metal lid directly over head, right arm pounding against the box.

Li's left arm blew through the privacy curtain on the recessed bunk, her shriek cut short by the sudden burst of fluorescent light. Grumbled curses greeted her from the other bunks as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Li snatched her toiletry kit from the slot locker on the wall, mumbled an apology and headed for the washroom.

#51 Spokes

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Posted 19 September 2013 - 11:57 PM

Bunk Compartment #4
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061-- 11:20 Hrs

The ceramic surface of the sink was cool under her palms, and Li leaned on it, letting her arms take some of her weight. The last three days had been brutal, the soft mattress of her bunk small comfort against the crushing power of the Pride's engines. Captain Molas had been true to his word, delivering them to Coventry in record time. But there was a price for that, and they were paying it now. Everything hurt, and as she stood in the tiny washroom leaning on the sink, Li couldn't help but wonder what kind of shape the ship was in.

And in a very short amount of time they were going to have to go back. Best not to think about that.

The small toiletry kit came open with the ripping sound of the velcro clasps. Various personal hygiene items came out of the bag, and Li set them along the edge of the sink in precise order.

The face that looked back at her in the steel mirror was haggard, with sunken, dark rimmed eyes. She hadn't been able to sleep much during the trip and it showed. Her hair was a tangled mess, too much gray for her liking, and the fluorescent lights made her complexion look that much worse. Li felt worn, old. The face in the mirror stared back at her for another long moment, then suddenly crossed its eyes and stuck its tongue out.

Li plucked the toothbrush off the left edge of the sink and stepped through her own personal start up sequence. She moved left to right along the edge of the sink, the routine so well practiced you could calibrate a watch by it.

She smiled around the bulk of the toothbrush. Or even earn a callsign. Li spat the toothpaste into the sink and moved to the mouthwash.

The dream had been real enough, an old memory that periodically resurfaced-- she'd collided head to head with another player and wound up with a fairly serious concussion. The paralysis had been artificial, a quick shot of some nerve agent to keep her immobilized in case there had been spinal damage. But the stark terror of that long minute when she thought she'd been paralyzed had stayed with her over the years. Her father burying her alive was a new twist on the nightmare though-- it hadn't been all that long since she'd had to bury him.

The damned mouthwash was cold, and it found every crown and filling in her mouth and made it burn like fire. She counted to 30 in her head, spat into the sink and picked up the hair brush.

Her hair had started turning gray in her mid twenties, a gift from her father's side of the family. For a long time the gray had clustered around the sides of her head, and she'd been able to hide it by shaving her hair off her temples like MechWarriors sometimes did. But it in the last couple of years it had just gotten silly-- she had decided she didn't want a mohawk and had just let it grow in.

The brush got rid of most of the tangle-- Li pulled her hair up and fastened the whole of it in place with a hair net. Though it wasn't strictly necessary now that they weren't floating about in zero gee, the net matched her uniform and managed to mask most of the gray in her hair. One final touch, a pair of light gray, amber trimmed work coveralls that had seen more than their fair share of goop and grease and Li was set. The toiletries went back into the bag, each item in its specific place. Li took one more look in the mirror, then turned and exited the washroom.

*********

One of the Battle Magic techs was standing by the door, waiting for his turn. Eugene maybe? The man looked annoyed at having had to wait so long, made a comment, the words completely unintelligible.

Li put her left hand on his shoulder, gave him a big smile.

"I have no idea what you just said." She patted him on the shoulder once, gave him a quick wink and headed for the door to the main corridor.

#52 Spokes

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Posted 26 September 2013 - 01:27 AM

Mech Bay 2
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Dropship Gantry 7, Port St. Williams
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061-- 11:30 Hrs

The clack of the breaker echoed through the Mech bay as Li closed the circuit, routing power from the Pride into the heavy gauge cable coming out of the wall. She turned towards her Scorpion, the machine highlighted by the late morning sky visible through the open bay door. The sounds of loading could occasionally be heard from the adjacent cargo bay, but Mech Bay two was empty.

The other end of the power umbilical was secured to a socket tucked behind the Scorpion's aft belt armor. The gold lettering was still there, stenciled upside down on the rear armor by one of the VEST engineers after Li's clock busting obstacle course run back on Outreach.

If you can read this, roll me over! She gave the armor a friendly pat, then entered a code on a recessed panel next to the power socket. There was a brief screech of metal, and a chain ladder spilled out of the Scorpion's port side.

_______________________________________________


The gentle hum of power did nothing to mask the rumble of Li's stomach as she dug through the storage locker at the back of the compartment. Books. Pills. Photo album. Hat. More books. Spare cooling vest. Another hat. No idea what the hell that is. Sunscreen. Ha, gotcha!

Li worked the plastic jar free of the clutter and checked the label on the metal lid. All Dawn Premium Fortified Morchel Spread. Make your Dawn brighter with Premium Morchel! The gray-green paste passed a quick sniff test, certainly better than what had been coming out of the Pride's mess hall lately. A packet of stale crackers and a knife followed the jar, and soon Li was leaning back in the well padded command chair, feet up on the console. The crunch of crackers was loud in her ears, the salty paste quickly settling her stomach. She set the jar off to one side on the console, said something to the computer around the wad of food in her mouth.

UNRECOGNIZED COMMAND.

Li rolled her eyes, swallowed, tried again. "Virgil, set diagnostic state four and rig for external DC power."

VERIFIED. The hum in the compartment grew slightly louder as more of the consoles lit up.

Good. Only one more thing to take care of. "Virgil, load playlist seven and route to the external speakers."

She grinned, could hear the music start through the open hatch. Violins. A banjo. Time to get to work. . .

_______________________________________________


The metal stool near the open ramp caught the sunlight and reflected it deeper into the bay. The neurohelmet sitting on top of it was a newer model-- much of the bulk had been moved from the crown of the head to the base of the skull, making room for a retractable face plate. The replacement helmet hadn't been so much a gift from VEST as an insistence, the engineers balking at the centuries old model she had been using. Li was still trying to get used to it.

She applied two quick layers of masking film, bottom to top and then around the sides, fingers drumming along the helm in time with the music as she worked. A rusty pencil compass traced a large circle near the top of the helm on the left side. The light flick of a pocket knife, and Li cut the circle out of the film, exposing the helm underneath.

She straightened up, eyeballed her work, turned around, seemed to look about the bay for something. . .There!

_______________________________________________

Li rapped the stylus on the side of the noteputer sitting in her lap, one foot tapping lightly on the Scorpion's glacis plate.

The well used computer bleeped as it finished pulling data from the Scorpion's diagnostic subsystems, and Li turned her attention to the wireframe on the screen. The stylus flicked across the screen and the image rotated-- a quick double tap caused that section of the wireframe to explode into a cloud of labeled parts and data points. Li moved to the next section, repeating the process, a check list slowly building up on the right side of the screen.

The music hit a crescendo, building up with a crash of strings from at least three different instruments. Li was practically hammering the glacis plate with her foot now, started swaying to the music with her shoulders, humming along. . .

She was caught off guard as she started to slide down the sloped armor, her feet and bottom suddenly finding no purchase on the smooth surface. {Scrap}, glazed armor! Li glanced down, gauged the distance to the deck, relaxed and shut the lid on the noteputer as the slide continued. She hopped the last half meter down to the bay floor, turned around, gave the 'Mech a pat.

"What, am I embarrassing you?"

_______________________________________________

Li reached up, fingers running along the redesigned seam in the ventral armor, trying to remember where the release toggle was. Two meters left, half a meter back, and there's the false toggle, so the real one would be. . .gotcha!

The release clicked and the armor panel swung open. Li yelped as a wash of mud coursed out of the exposed hip joint. She stood in the rapidly expanding mud puddle, blinked up at the compartment, her confused expression slowly turning to a smug grin.

Oh right. Turn five, lap two. Got an earful from the course intendant for that one. Although to be fair, she never said that I had to go around the obstacles. . .

_______________________________________________

Li leaned into one of the 'Mech bay's supply cabinets, rummaging through the junk contained therein. "If I was a paint cylinder, where would I be. . ." Nope. Nope. Nada. Good Lord, clean this out once in a while?

She closed that cabinet, moved on to the next one. A wrench set, anti-static gear, Freon tanks, four different cutting torches. . . Li dug through the equipment, hands moving faster as she continued to not find what she needed.

She slammed the cabinet shut, pulled the next one open and. . .stopped. Li blinked once, stared into the cabinet. The inflatable sheep stared back at her, its face frozen in mock horror.

Li closed the door.

_______________________________________________

The beam from the flashlight ran down the thick, gray bundle, tracing up from the right front hip joint and moving towards the. . .

Li stopped, looked up at the overbuilt myomer strand, hands on her hips now, had to laugh. The bundle was tied into a knot roughly halfway between the ring terminals.

"Virgil. . .how did you even do that?"

UNRECOGNIZED COMMAND. Li's mind added a little bit of phantom petulance to the synthesized voice in her headset.

"Uh huh. Your feigned ignorance will do you no good, we're on to you." She reached up and ran one hand along the bundle, trying to puzzle out the quickest way to untangle it. Her mind offered up an image, a tech hearing a noise, walking into the darkened Mech bay, hitting the lights, the 'Mechs frozen into contorted positions in the center of the bay. The quiet, electronic voice, "We ain't doin' nothin'!"

"Virgil, open breakers fifty six through seventy and isolate the starboard side foreleg from main power."

VERIFIED.

_______________________________________________

Li kept time with the heel of her left foot, fingers drumming on the wooden handle in her hands, head bobbing first one way, then the other.

The mop came out of the wringer and dropped back to the deck with a wet slap. Li bounced with the music, the notes coming fast as an acoustic guitar and a higher pitched mandolin traded the melody back and forth. She flowed back and forth under the Scorpion, keeping time with the mop as the mud puddle gradually disappeared.

Slowly, she became aware of another rhythmic sound layered on top of the music. A slow patter on the ferrocrete tarmac outside the ship.

Rain drops.

Li came to a halt, stared out the bay door, the sight still strange after all these years. The rain increased, the rush and echo of it building as the music faded.

The first few notes of the next track broke over the sound of the rain and Li flushed a deep crimson, hand coming up to toggle on the microphone on the ear piece, too late, the squelch command to the Scorpion's computer completely lost in the electro-pop music suddenly thundering out of the 'Mech's external speakers.

Li laughed as the "music" hammered off the Pride's bulkheads, some bubblegum tune that had been popular in the Magistracy almost ten years ago. She executed a mock bow to the empty Mech Bay, damage done. Oops. The mop came up, gripped tightly in both hands, and Li spun around, leaned over it like it was a microphone stand, belted out the ridiculous lyrics, her hopeless alto lost in the reverberating noise.

_______________________________________________

The bay was cooler now, the damp air washing in from outside. Li sat braced against the particle cannon's mantlet, shoveling down the last of the morchel and watching the rain outside. There was a lot of it now, the wind blowing the individual drops together into one undulating mass. She watched, fascinated by it. This must be what people mean when they talk about "sheets of rain".

Li wondered if you could actually drown in it.

She tipped the plastic jar, peered up into it. Empty. Li turned, threw it, hands held aloft as it arched across the 'Mech bay, a brief gesture of triumph as it crashed down into the waste receptacle. She picked up the lid, made to throw it too, something stopping her. The label was cool to the touch as she ran her thumb over it-- Li fished the last of the paste off the underside of the lid, then tucked the little piece of home into one of her pockets.

She turned back to the open bay door in time to see an impossibly bright bolt of lightning connect with the arrestor rod on a Dropship across the tarmac. There was an immediate, tearing CRACK from the strike, the shock of it felt through the Pride's deck and up through the Scorpion's legs. Li tried to blink the after image out of her eyes, ears ringing, one hand reflexively coming up to cross herself.

She was never going to get used to that either.

_______________________________________________

One last look to make sure the masking film was set properly on the helmet, and Li pulled the cap off the spray paint cylinder with a loud pop.

Klakka-klakka-klakka-klakka

kkssssssssssssssttt. kkkkissssst. kkkkiisssssssssssssssssstttt. kksssssssst. kksssst.

Klakka-klakka. kkiissssssssssssssssssssssstt. kssssssst.

_______________________________________________

The tensor was pulled taut along side the now unknotted myomer fibers. Li turned one of the dials on the instrument, checked the gauge, repeated the process. Almost there. . .

SPROING!

Li pulled her hands back with a yelp, turned and watched as the tensor flew end over end and crashed into the empty paint cylinder sitting next to the waste receptacle on the other side of the bay.

"Huh."

_______________________________________________

Li reached back, put the amp probe back in its case, pulled off the anti-static gloves, looked back into the open access panel. The LED display on the new circuit board was all green now. The tangle of wiring and heavy capacitors between the cockpit and the drum launcher were new and unfamiliar, courtesy of the lasers that had replaced the aging missile system. Li closed the panel, stood slowly, one hand on the armored drum to steady herself. She turned and walked along the top of the 'Mech in the direction of cannon. The rain was tapering off-- there was sunlight poking through the clouds beyond the open bay door.

The panel popped open behind her with a loud click.

_______________________________________________

Li's fingers moved over the neurohelm, no tapping this time. She added a new mask, the film carefully cut away in places with a precision tool.

She stood back to look over her work, one hand coming up to wipe the sweat off her brow as the rising heat outside chased the humid air into the bay. The loading had resumed in earnest on the tarmac below, and Li stepped aside as a loader zipped up the bay 2 ramp.

She turned back to the helmet, was satisfied the stool was out of the way, raised the fresh paint cylinder.

Klakka-klakka. ksssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssttt.

_______________________________________________

The armor plate was hard on her legs, but Li ignored the pain, focused intensely on the now closed access panel, pulled her hands away slowly. Nothing. The panel stayed closed.

She exhaled, hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. The panel stayed closed. Didn't figure the stupid panel would be more trouble than the expensive stuff underneath it.

She knelt back, brushed her hands off on her pant legs. That should be all I need to do up here. . .

Li turned as a faint thud. . .thud. . .thud. . . drifted into the bay from outside. BattleMech. Big one. She craned her neck but couldn't see what it was, didn't have the angle. The sound came close and she could feel the vibration now, the 'Mech pulling to a stop. The final foot fall sounded, the thud travelling up through the deck and into the Scorpion's legs.

The panel popped open.

"Oh, you. . ."

_______________________________________________

Li stood off to one side as Eugene poked at the tensor hooked inside the Scorpion's leg. Poke. Poke poke. He looked over his shoulder, turned one of the dials. Poke, poke. . .

SPROING!!

The two of them turned to follow the flying tensor, cheers breaking out as it smacked the empty paint cylinder off the table, the other Battle Magic techs slapping Eugene on the back, money changing hands. Li turned, shouted across the bay, "Hey, set us up again?", returned the man's thumbs up, turned back to Eugene.

Li pulled out a ten note C-bill. "Think you can nail two of them at once?" Eugene grinned and pulled another tensor out of the tool kit. . .

_______________________________________________

The panel shot back up and slammed into her palms. Li slammed it back down, the whang of it echoing through the bay. It popped right back open.

Li slammed it right back down, and it popped right back up.

"Virgil, why are you hitting yourself?" WHANG!

UNRECOGNIZED COMMAND.

WHANG! "Stop hitting yourself!"

WHANG!

_______________________________________________

Li lifted the squeegee away from the Scorpion, whacked it on the deck, knocked the water off it, made another pass across the armor. The machine was positively gleaming now, courtesy of the Port St. Williams municipal water supply. She leaned on the squeegee, allowed herself to take some pride in the glistening BattleMech, the result of the long day's work. It had been worth it, coming down with the 'Mech. Not withstanding the amenities of the RAI jumpship they'd left-- the private quarters, well-conditioned atmosphere, decent food, lack of a high-g run.

Yep. Totally worth it. She stuck her tongue out at the 'Mech.

The music coming from the speakers faded, the dueling fiddles finishing their battle. The next track was slow to start, and Li raised an eyebrow, stared hard at the BattleMech, dared it to pull another embarrassing memory out of its data banks.

She smiled as the music came back up, recognized the tune, an old brass band. A quick glance around the bay, empty, the loading in this area complete. Li brought the squeegee back around and resumed sloughing water off the 'Mech.

"Met the man I love!" The sound of the squeegee being pulled across metal competed with the sound of the band. "In a town way down in Dixie!" The noise of the squeegee was only slightly more annoying than Li's voice.

"'Neath the stars above!". A flick of the wrist knocked the water off the rubber blade.

"He was the, sweeeeeetest man you ever did see, wheeeen he held me in his arms and, a'told me of my, many charms! He a'kissed me while the fiddles played, the Bonaparte's Retreat. . ."

_______________________________________________

Li pulled the masking film off the neurohelm, smiled, the large 'Double T' of the Terrors emblem gleaming back up at her. She wadded up the film, took aim, fired it at the waste receptacle. Missed completely. Laughed, jogged over, picked up the ball and dunked it into the container.

She trotted back towards the bay door, slower now, the day's exertions in the high gravity wearing on her. She looked down at her handiwork, smiled, turned back towards the Scorpion, suddenly looked thoughtful. Li stuck her head out of the bay door, the sun sinking towards the horizon. Yep, I have time. She turned and headed back towards the supply cabinets at the back of the bay. . .

_______________________________________________

WHANG!!

CLACK!!

The panel landed hard, something heavy locking into place behind it. It stayed closed. Li hit it with the palm of her hand. It stayed closed. She stood up, jumped up and down on it, backed away.

It stayed closed.

Li let out a whoop of joy, big smile, turned around, hesitated, did an Immortal Warrior hood slide down the curved armor panel and off the front of the 'Mech.

. . .

"Ow."

#53 Thom Frankfurt

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Posted 07 October 2013 - 01:10 AM

Dropship Gantry 7
Port St. Williams
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 20:32

Vasco Molas had a great day. The poor visibility and slippery conditions from the earlier storm got him out of doing his hated chore of scaling the dropship's exterior. Instead Vasco spent his day helping out in the cargo bay, slaving away under the over critical eye of the Albino and the professional techs, who gladly took his help when offered. And instead of him, the task of looking over the welds, cracks, and seals on the Prides replacement armor fell upon his distant cousin, Jason, the following day.

Now with the jobs of inventorying the cargo bay and moving the misc. items around to give the work crew from Ceres more than enough room to comfortably preform their tasks complete, Vasco sat back upon the lip of the cargo bays ramp, in the area the spacer family referred to as 'Thom's nest.' The steel decking was hard and cool to the touch. And as Vasco stared out enjoying the unfamiliar sight of the Coventry skyline awash with the rosy reds, purples, and golden hue's of a rather spectacular sunset, Vasco had to say the decking was surprisingly comfortable. And as twilight fell upon the Lyran world, the spacer became aware of the familiar mercenary's approach, with his silhouette highlighted by the light beams of a trailing auto.

Standing up the spacer took in the sight, and flailing his arms about as the Warlockian MechWarrior. "HEY THOM! You expecting company?!" Vasco roared in warning out as the auto pulled up short and began spilling out passengers like a clown car.
*****************************************************************
Damn my arm hurts. With much wincing Thom took off his studded jacket and hiked up his sleeve to behold the angry purple welt from the pool cue's blow. Grimacing he then looked over his jacket near the area he thought where the knife slashed at him. Damaged, but the tough material and studs did their job, soaking up the worse of the attack. Daring a look, the Warlockian look in the area where the blade struck him, low on his abdomen. His Megadeth shirt was slashed and torn right through the middle of the word 'Business,' with a thin red scratch underneath.

(Literally a scratch, we can't be having anyone get too hurt right now in this RP.)

"FUNK!!" Thom roared out, suddenly reconsidering his decision in leaving the drunk marines with only a simple beating.

"HEY THOM!" The rest of Vasco's shout was cut off by the nearby screeching brakes of an auto, but the wild gestures coming from the spacer raised enough confusion to warrant the MechWarrior to look over his shoulder as several marines spilled out of a small beat up hatched back style vehicle with the logo of 'Vulpes Enterprises' on the side. In true clown car fashion one even popped out of the back hatched trunk area wielding a tire iron.

No necked 'Bottle-face' was there, along with the 'Pool Boy,' and 'Knuckle-Dusted-Off.' Each one of the drunks was armed with something. Pool cues broken into clubs, a knife, and the tire iron. The no-necked Roid-Rager charged Thom with an amazing speed and neigh Elemental grace that he didn't display earlier, he splashed though the birdbath like pools upon the tarmac. Tossing his jacket and rucksack to the side, Thom reached for his Nakjama but either through the jittering after effects from the adrenalin from the earlier fight, or pain from his arm, he fumbled with the shoulder holster and only managed to shoot off a hastily aimed shot which missed by a ballpark shooting out over everyone's head as No-Neck crashed into him.
***************************************************
Vasco stood dumbfounded as the car emptied. It wasn't till the laser pistols jade green bolt shot out that he realized he was holding his breath. Even as the MechWarrior and Marine torn into each other, the spacer turned and ran for the Bay Three intercom terminal. A scant twenty seconds later he reached the panel and ripped off the phone like contraption long enough to key the transmit button and shout wildly over the on board PA system.

"FIGHT!!! THOM IS FIGHTING A BUNCH OF GUYS OUTSIDE BAY THREE!!! COME QUICK!!!" With that he hung up and whirled about to race back to the ramp.
****************************************************
They fell in a heap with the pistol flying from Thom's grasp as his hand slammed onto the 'Pride's ramp. Facing a larger opponent wasn't anything new for Thom, but he was still surprised by the man's strength as the man slammed like a hammer like fist into the side of T's head. Stars exploded before his eyes as he tried to recall his martial arts courses from the New Avalon Military Academy.

"KICK HIS A$$, CHONGO!!" shouted on one of the space marines crony's Along with yet another echoing chorus of degrading comments from the bar. Chongo! Yeah, he looks like a Chongo. Thom managed to avoid the worse of this next punch when it came crashing down, as it grazed his head and slammed into the dropship's steel ramp. Smirking Thom watched as the marine pulled back a bloody hand with a pained expression. Still Chongo raised the fist to bring it crashing down again, but this time Thom was ready. Wiggling out of the way entirely, the MechWarrior hooked his legs around the bigger man's waist. When the punch came he hooked his arm around the man's head and squeezed for all he was worth. Grunting and panting like a cheap w40r3, the man struggled, clawing away at Thom's arm with a beefy paw. With difficulty, the man scrambled around to heave himself with Thom attached. Desperate to dislodge Thom, the man then belly flopped. With an audible Oomph! the air rushed out from T's lungs, but still he held on.

Growling like a beast, Chongo shot out his arm to push them off the ramp again. Thom elbowed the crook of the Lyran's elbow, which brought them down again this time, but luckily for T not from any elevated position. Again the marine pushed himself up, a hard punch to the hallow of his armpit ended the attempt. Now sounding positively feral, with veins bulging, and reddening face the man pushed out so wildly T's grip around the man's waist slipped as the Chongo staggered drunkenly on his feet. Still holding on the mercenary kicked out suddenly and was now rewarded with an Oomph! as his steel toed boot slammed into the bigger man's groin, bringing him to his knees.

Staggering back, Thom looked on the brute. Red faced, panting, and wheezing the man clutched his groin with both hands. Unconcerned with the drunken friends cries of 'Chongo!?' or the cries of the 'Pride's technicians of 'ONE ON ONE!!,' Thom launched himself into attack mode. A savage front kick into the side of the space marine's head which caused a jet of blood to shoot out as the man fell over. Still not satisfied, Thom leaped upon the man and began shower his face with blows like a bully victim high on a nerd rage. Oblivious to the sounds of booted feet speeding to his location or the shouts of warning, Thom raised an elbow and brought it crashing down like a pile driver into Chongo's bloody face.

But the results of the blow were lost upon Thom as his body was overcome with several hundred thousand volts of electricity being pumped into his body from a stun gun wielding Lyran. Darkness overtook him.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 07 October 2013 - 10:34 AM.


#54 MacabreDerek

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Posted 08 October 2013 - 11:25 PM

Mech Bay 1
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
3 March, 11:30 Hrs

Sitting on one of the benches among dirty tools and disorganized parts, Juri watched Andrew's reveal. Sugar cookie in hand, she was about to nibble on it when the tarp was pulled aside, and she went completely still. Her eyes were glued to the behemoth of clan technology before her, and a horrible chill ran down her spine.

'Mad Cat', a twisted mashing of a Catapult and a Marauder that the Clans dubbed 'Timber Wolf' was a sight she hoped never to see this close, a killing machine designed for duels with mixed ranged weaponry akin to her beloved Stalker.

"Changed" was an apt choice of words. A cold sweat creeped along Juri's brow, along with a queasiness in her stomach. Looking at the others for objections, instead finding only acceptance and a gratitude that Andrew had brought this abomination into their mechbay.

Using Clan technology was just another admission of their supposed superiority, that they did not believe they could fight the Clans with their own steel and wit, trying to 'level the field'. It was disgusting, and still not one of them spoke up. It was clear to her that speaking openly was going to do nothing but bring the unit apart, and the last thing needed was in-fighting in the unit. As her old commander once said to her, 'Unity is the key word in Unit... Without the Y.'

Still, the mech was not the biggest problem, it was the wedge that it would drive into the trust she had with Andrew. Yes, it was her own bias, and she could accept that, but it did not change what this reveal had done. When she had moments to think about it, she would have to speak with him...


Juri's Quarters
Drop ship Achilles' Pride
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
29 March, 3061, 18:57 Hours

Coventry, it had been a few years, but the scars of Jade Falcon still ripped into the landscape. No matter how many times you see it, there is little that can prepare you to observe people trying to bring back cities and lives to what they once were after such grandiose scale warfare.

It was weird, watching the dropship land from external cameras from her PDA, the screen lighting the dark room with it's pale blue glow, bringing out the darkened blood stains on her kimono to seem black in contrast to the vibrant white. Juri had still been wracking her brain over what to say to Andrew, though she had been keeping tabs on him since the reveal, it had been her priority to keep to her bunk, doing whatever training her pain ridden body would allow, while keeping out of everyone's way. The last thing they needed to see was a medical case getting out of hand.

Still, it would be good to walk in real gravity, get some sun and view some history. It's not often she would have the opportunity to see the rebuilt communities.


Juri's Quarters
Port St. Williams
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 20:33

"FIGHT!!! THOM IS FIGHTING A BUNCH OF GUYS OUTSIDE BAY THREE!!! COME QUICK!!!"

The PA startled Juri from a morphine doze, it was one of her 'attacks' that forced her to get back into bed. Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she tried to stand and in the darkness stumbled forward, ripping the needles from her left arm. Blood and morphine started to pool on the dirty steel floor, feeling the oozing sensation between her toes as she held onto the wall.

The black made it difficult, far more the haze of pain killers running in her system to find her field bag. Her blood soaked hand reached into the folds of heavy cloth, feeling along until cold steel kissed her fingertips.

Opening the door, the florescent lighting struck her like a hammer, the hallway lit, and crew rushing past. "Just... Just get to Thom. Don't pay...pay ya for nothin'." Juri murmered to herself. The silhouettes rushing past was like a stream, the hallway was swaying in all directions, and she stumbled forward, a blood stained white-kimono specter shambling down the hall, the cool touch of her pistol in hand, bracing against the hallway wall.

Edited by MacabreDerek, 08 October 2013 - 11:31 PM.


#55 Spokes

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Posted 09 October 2013 - 02:58 PM

Mech Bay 2
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Dropship Gantry 7, Port St. Williams
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061-- 20:33 Hrs

The feedback from the overhead speaker is short lived, the voice frantic. . .

"FIGHT!!! THOM IS FIGHTING A BUNCH OF GUYS OUTSIDE BAY THREE!!! COME QUICK!!!"

The respirator mask comes off with a quick tug, the paint gun lands with a rattling scrape. Li does a quick crab walk down the sloped glacis plate, mindful of the hose connected to the gun and the gleaming swath of wet paint on the Scorpion's armor.

Long strides eat away the distance to the open bay door, the sounds of the fight outside building with each step. Li emerges into the rapidly fading daylight in time to see Thom raining blows on a huge slab of a man, heedless of the others gathering close. Light flashes off metal, the boxy shape of a taser.

"Thom!!"

Too late. The sound of the Warlockian hitting the ferrocrete is enough to make Li's bones ache in sympathy. But there is the barest hint of a silver lining-- the man Thom was pounding on looks to have soaked up a fair amount of voltage himself. He makes no move to stand.

Li's shout earns her a hard glance from the goons below, but they are quick to turn back towards Thom. There are friendly faces too, techs and loaders from the Pride, but too few yet to win through to the helpless mercenary. One of the thugs winds up and puts a boot into Thom's side.

Pulse pounding, furious with herself for not wearing her sidearm, Li snatches up the nearest heavy object and dashes out the bay door.

The metal stool wobbles once before dropping to the deck with a loud crash.

#56 Spokes

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Posted 09 October 2013 - 05:00 PM

Li pounds down the ramp, yells incoherently, voice rising with each step. Another hollow thump, a boot against ribs, a low groan.

"Come on!!" That has the desired effect-- one of the men turns towards her, away from Thom. A wicked grin. The sharp flash of a knife.

Li powers forward, her own weapon held tightly with both hands. She springs across the last bit of distance, uncoiling in the familiar motion, her momentum pouring through her shoulders, her suddenly extended arm, into the weighted object gripped tightly in her right hand.

The neurohelmet connects with a sickening crunch. The knife drops away from nerveless fingers as Li drops into a crouch, launches back up on the balls of her feet, reverses the direction of the swing. The heavy helmet crashes into the side of the goon's head, the not-quite-dry paint leaving a large "Double T" on the side of the man's face. He staggers but does not fall. Li twists past him.

More shouting, more movement. A pool cue whistles past Li's ear-- the helmet finds the owner's gut and Li ducks past, quick blows, rapid feints. The Techs are there now, the sound of flesh striking flesh layering over the shouts of encouragement.

Another thug steps in front of her and Li makes to spin around him, but she is no longer a teenager and the gravity has sapped her strength much faster than anticipated. The juke is too slow, the tire iron glancing off her shoulder. Li brings the helmet up, no room to swing it, catches the man's arm through the face plate opening as he grabs for her, twists hard. But she doesn't have the strength to do more than bruise him, the helmet now locked firmly to the man's arm. Li hesitates the barest fraction of a second, loathe to let go of her only weapon, and the man's head snaps down hard into her own.

A sharp crack, a quick, high pain, the whirl of sky, the hard scrape of the tarmac, more pain in her palms and wrists. Li scampers backwards on all fours as the man pitches the helmet away into the twilight. It's too dark now to properly see the tire iron, but Li can feel the weight of it in the man's gait and in the throbbing welt on her shoulder. He says something vulgar in German and Li fires back, her own German serviceable enough, some slight about the man's mother.

"Come back here you little Drac b****. . ." One of the Pride's crew launches past, a few quick blows, the whump of the tire iron.

The goon turned back to Li. His eyes dared her to get back up.

Li dared.

#57 Thom Frankfurt

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Posted 15 October 2013 - 09:35 AM

Mech Bay 2
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Dropship Gantry 7, Port St. Williams
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061-- 20:33 Hrs

Vasco watched on gape mouthed as the fight unfolded before him, the brutish Lyran space marine versus the annoyingly opportunistic mercenary. It seemed like Thom was toying with the man, doing defensive moves while biding his time for an opening. The Warlockian found it when the marine rose up to slam the smaller MechWarrior down upon the ramp kicking out with a savage snarl that left every man present flinching inwardly as the 'Oomph!' shot from the buzz-cutted infantrymen.

Several screams of "Chongo!?!" rose from the Lyran's cohorts as the man dropped to his knees, Vasco noticed that a few took a few steps closer to the fighting pair as his cousin, Jason shouted "One on One!" to the encroaching Lyrans. "What is the meaning of this!?" roared out Father who's bushy eyebrows were coming together in an angry V as he cradled an archaic looking double barreled shotgun. "THAT'S ENOUGH!!" Screamed out Mama Molas from where she stood at the top of the ramp her blanket draped about her shoulders with her skeletal rat-dog-thing tucked into the crook of her arm like a newborn.

All the younger Molas family ignored their elders as the mercenary kicked into the side of the Lyran's head like he was trying to kick down a door, a gush of blood shot out as the man careened over, with the MechWarrior quickly scrambling over him to rain blow upon blow down upon the man's face. With a sudden surge the drunks descended upon the fighting pair.

(Barrowed from Spokes)
Li emerges into the rapidly fading daylight in time to see Thom raining blows on a huge slab of a man, heedless of the others gathering close. Light flashes off metal, the boxy shape of a taser.

"Thom!!"

Too late. The sound of the Warlockian hitting the ferrocrete is enough to make Li's bones ache in sympathy. But there is the barest hint of a silver lining-- the man Thom was pounding on looks to have soaked up a fair amount of voltage himself. He makes no move to stand.

Li's shout earns her a hard glance from the goons below, but they are quick to turn back towards Thom. There are friendly faces too, techs and loaders from the Pride, but too few yet to win through to the helpless mercenary. One of the thugs winds up and puts a boot into Thom's side.

Pulse pounding, furious with herself for not wearing her sidearm, Li snatches up the nearest heavy object and dashes out the bay door.


The metal stool wobbles once before dropping to the deck with a loud crash.


Charging down the ramp with many of the technicians and his family hot on the heels of the quad-mechjock, Vasco surged into the small rank of space grunts, slamming into one with the two of them falling in a heap.

Vasco wasn't a trained fighter, and the long hours of zero G didn't promote great muscle strength so his time flailing about with the space marines didn't last too long, especially when something blunt and heavy crashed into the side of his head. And as his vision slowly faded to black he heard a loud resounding 'BOOM' of a shotty and Father's normally calm and patient voice roar out with a "ENOUGH!!"

Much later when Vasco would be asked to describe the encounter, he described it as epic as it was when the Greeks and Trojans fought over Patroclus' body upon the plains of Troy.

#58 Sparks Murphey

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Posted 17 October 2013 - 12:37 AM

“Oh, yeah? I’ve got your liquor right here!”

A hush fell upon the restaurant as the Baron smashed the 200-year-old port bottle across the temple of the brutish thug. The Baron smiled that devil-may-care smile, his blue eyes sparkling, just the way they did the night she first met him, the night he saved her life.

The night Petra fell in love with him.

This was a side of him that Kara von Rannoch would never see of him. For all her courtly manners and grace, she’d never know the raw passion Baron John Wilcox had to offer. And, should the marriage go ahead, Petra knew that a part of the Baron would be crushed, bound forever in willing servitude to a woman who saw him as another accessory to her political career.

Petra seemed the only one who appreciated that smile, though. Certainly, the other thugs in the room didn’t take kindly to it, or his treatment of their companion. One approached from behind, brandishing a pool cue.

“John, look out!” Petra shouted. Her warning came a fraction too late; the Baron caught the blow on his arm, staggering him and allowing the thug to drive him to the floor. The others closed in to deliver their own, cruel mob justice.

Though she felt a world away, Petra knew she couldn’t just stand by and watch her true love beaten to a pulp, even if he didn’t seem to notice her as a person most of the time. Her Python autopistol had been checked-in with her coat at the door, but her martial arts training from Sanglamore would stand her in good stead. A quick one-two punch laid the first of them down, before a windmill sweep downed the man with the pool cue. The rest quickly thought better of the situation and fled. Petra helped the Baron to his feet, his calloused hand in hers, trying to push aside the thoughts of that skin to skin contact.

“Thank you, Leutnant,” the Baron said, casting a withering glance at the remaining, subdued thugs, “It seems some people don’t know their betters. Once again, I’m glad I made you my second in command.”

And yet you seem to think that’s all I could ever be, she thought to herself, though she kept to a simple “Yes, sir” out loud.

The words were barely out of her mouth before his strong arms were around her, pulling her to the ground. Before the shock could fully register, the roar of a machine gun came from the street, shattering the restaurant’s front window and splintering the wood panelled walls. Tires squealed distantly, but Petra’s mind was on other things: the Baron’s pulse, the warmth of his breath on her cheek, his taut abs pressed against hers...

“It seems the Habsburg-Steiners have decided to remove me from the succession for good,” the Baron commented wryly, as the commotion settled, “That’s twice I’ve saved you now, Leutnant.”

“I know,” Petra said, her heart fluttering, “John, there’s… there’s something I need to tell you.”

His eyes met hers. “And that is?”


“The chicken is ready!” Zoé called from the doorway, “If you’re done reading about Sir Smoochalot, you should come and eat while it’s still hot.”

Adrianna threw a pillow at her, then stashed Perchance to Command back in her locker.

Edited by Sparks Murphey, 17 October 2013 - 12:57 AM.


#59 Listless Nomad

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Posted 28 October 2013 - 08:23 PM

Cabin 8R
Jumpship Drunkard’s Walk
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
3nd April, 3061, 13:40 Hours

"Well, you're a sight."

After knocking on Adrianna’s door, and the night he’d had the previous evening, it was not the greeting Andrew was hoping for.

“Yeah uh…last night was…interesting.”

Adrianna beckoned him into her cabin, before taking a seat at her desk while Andrew remained standing near the door. He was uncomfortable."Just 'interesting'? I see here," Adrianna tapped at the data slate, "that Ceres Metals are hiring up a number of medium-weight mercs. That's 'interesting', but I don't look like a rat dragged me through a hedge. What happened, Andrew?"

“Well…Zoe and I..Uh. Well. We slept together. And I think I've made a huge mistake.”

"What makes you say that?"

“I think she really cares for me, and I think I care for her back. That’s the issue. We are about to go to war and I've seen what happens in war. You have too. You know that people die. I feel like now was not the time to develop feelings for someone. I just…I don't know. What should I do?”

"Andrew, we're soldiers. The question you have to ask yourself is, are you ever going to stop being a soldier? Can you put this behind you and go to a house in the 'burbs, with a mortgage and 2 and half kids? Or is this going to be here with you always? Because if you can't, you need to tell her. Not everyone gets to live the romance story," she added with a sad smile.

Andrew straightened slightly, and a little bit of fire entered his voice.“I've never been at home anywhere else. It's all I know. The 'Cat down on Coventry is all that I have left to my name. But I know this isn't what I want to be forever. I don't want to die in the cockpit on some forsaken planet alone in a swamp. I just…I don't want others to get hurt because of me. If it's my time to die then that's my rotten luck. But I didn't intend to drag Zoe into this. If it were you, what would you do?”

Adrianna was silent a moment. "Did you know I've got a son? He's thirteen. A whiz at electronics. I speak to him maybe once a year, to avoid confrontations with his dad. We fell in love in a warzone, and I always imagined, always dreamed, that somehow it would work out. It didn't. He just couldn't see things the way I saw them. Look," she leant closer, "forgive me for being a pragmatist, but you've already hurt her, it just hasn't landed yet. Someday, the things you saw in that swamp will tear the two of you apart, even if you die in your sleep aged a hundred and fifty. It's just whether there's a little pain now, or a lot later on."

Andrew leaned heavily against the door, staring at the ceiling for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "I don't know if you are right or wrong Adrianna, but I don't want to believe what you have to say. I've been there; I've seen that darkness and managed to crawl my way back from the depths. I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone or afraid because of my past"

She shrugged. "You asked what I'd do, I'd cut it off. If you don't want to be alone, focus on enjoying your time together while it lasts. I just don't think you can have that and not hurt her."

Andrew let out another long sigh. "I know. I know. That wasn't a fair response. I just didn't like what I was hearing and lashed out. I came here for your opinion, and I got it. I'm not even sure what I expected. I'm the one who walked in saying I'd made a mistake and suddenly I'm ready to get married. What a terrible mess Adrianna. Has Zoe spoken to you yet today? I haven't see her since this morning."

"She was making a cajun chicken thing for lunch, though she didn't mention you particularly. She did seem bubblier than normal, especially considering cajun spices do little to hide how freeze-dried and reconstituted chicken tastes."

"Heh. Maybe that's a good thing. If it didn't mean that much to her then maybe I'm getting myself worked up over nothing." Sheepishly rubbing his head, Andrew looked over Adrianna's desk and spied the romance novel peeking out from beneath a stack of reports. "Romance novels Adrianna? Don't tell me that your past experiences keep you from having any fun these days?"

"Not you too," Adrianna said, rolling her eyes, "Things are simpler in books. Sometimes you just have to accept that the thing you want is impossible to have, and just cherish your dreams."

Andrew was taken aback for a moment. "Woah...that's depressing. Come on - you must get up to a little trouble when you are planet side." Andrew said with a wink.

Adrianna stuck her tongue out in response. "Wouldn't you like to know? There's a difference between sex and love, though, and frankly, I'm usually not in one place long enough for the second."

Finally able to let out a laugh, Andrew could feel the mood shift to a brighter tone. He still wasn't sure what he'd expected when he came, or even what answer he wanted to hear. He'd had no idea how jaded Adrianna was, but her advice had seemingly galvanized him in the opposite direction. The fact that Zoe hadn't mentioned him hurt his ego slightly, but Andrew managed to shelve that on the off chance her indifference circumvented the problem he'd been mulling for the past few hours. Clapping his hands together, Andrew managed a genuine smile. Snatching up Adrianna's romance novel, Andrew turned to leave. Adrianna tried to beat him to the novel, but wasn't quick enough. "I think I'll just hang on to this until you get out and have some fun. You want it, you can come find me and the rest of the living breathing humans down in the hydroponics bay tonight. Shake those doldrums out of you. Maybe even get you to dance!" Andrew let out a fake gasp and covered his mouth in mock horror before chuckling again. "Thanks for the talk Adrianna. I'm not sure you helped but it cleared my head a little."

"Oh, stooping to taking a girl's books, are you? Fine, I'll be there, though by tomorrow you'll probably have wished you never asked to see me dance in zero-G."

Half opening the door before turning and giving Adrianna one last wink, Andrew had a parting shot for the person he'd now consider a close friend. "A girl's book? But madam, I thought you were a lady?! Besides...you haven't danced till you've danced upside-down." With that he was out the door and down the corridor - whistling a tune to himself to keep him distracted from the thoughts piling up in his head.

#60 The Shepherd

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Posted 02 November 2013 - 03:53 PM

Dropship Achilles Pride
Coventry, Lyran Alliance
3 April, 3061 20:33
Executive Officer’s Quarters

"FIGHT!!! THOM IS FIGHTING A BUNCH OF GUYS OUTSIDE BAY THREE!!! COME QUICK!!!"

Lifting the steaming iron from his dress pants, Cees closed his eyes and sighed.

Of course he is.

Dressed in every part of his full parade regalia barring trousers, he swallowed down the annoyance of having his weekly drill ritual interrupted. It was no mean feat, as having to iron the pants a second time after missing a pleat had already irked him greatly.

Sliding the almost finished pants off of the board, he quickly tugged them on past his polished boots, chuckling ironically at the fact that his own annoyed laziness had resulted in the fortune of having his gun belt and sabre already looped and fastened to the belt.
Hastily buckled up a few seconds later, he sprinted down towards the mech bay.

This restrictive uniform will be useless in a stand up fight... I’ll have to hope they’re cowed enough by the AFFC brass. And the last thing the Duke would want is word of his estranged nephew getting into a brawl...

Shimmying down the mech bay deck’s ladder, Cees cursed under his breath. His boots would need to be polished again.
View partially obscured by cargo, he skirted around the edge of the bay for a better look at the combatants, listening for clues to the assailant’s identities.
Vulgar and provocative German indicated Thom had somehow managed to upset the locals.
Peering out around an ammo stack, he caught sight of one ruffian in overalls, sporting a 1ST Coventry Jagers Aerospace Regiment patch on his shoulder.

Great, Katrina’s goons. Especially hard headed then. Won’t be able to talk them out of it, and I cant just kill them... Perhaps...

“******** you Thom...” he growled as he drew his service pistol and sabre, “You’d better still be alive...”

Working the slide of the pistol with the guard of the sabre, he rapidly ejected all but two rounds from the weapon and charged out and down the gangway.
Two skyward rounds broke through the tumult of the brawl, followed by the incoherent yell of the young officer.

With the flat of his sabre raised high and empty gun menacingly outstretched before him, Cees charged towards the side of the brawl, hoping to split the group with shock and awe.





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