97 replies to this topic

[Thom Frankfurt]

Mess Hall
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
28 February, 10:07 Hrs.

“Out of professional self-interest, sir, is there anything under the tarp that my other employers should remain ignorant of? If it's some kind of prototype, I can understand some legal types could get tetchy if another just like it suddenly turns up,” Arianna said, raising her hands defensively, “Not trying to pry, just need to know where I stand.”

"Nah it'sa noting like dat." Thom waved off the question, but wondered if Arianna would later be caught snooping around the tarped over mech.

"In da grand scope of tings, t'sa fairly new design. Not sure how long it's been around, but it's rolled off da assembly line before I'sa was in academy... Anda no, it's not any Blackenburg property."

Thom looked over the lot of the assembled warriors once more.

"So if ders anoting else... dismissed."

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 14 June 2013 - 10:36 PM.

[Listless Nomad]

Mess Hall
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
28 February, 10:07 Hrs.

"So if ders anoting else... dismissed."

Andrew let out an audible sigh of relief and quickly stood from the back table where he’d been keeping to himself. He’d noticed off hand that the other mechwarriors shot a few glances in his direction when the tarp was mentioned, and all the attention made him uncomfortable.

You’ve got to get over this Andrew! You expect these people to go into battle with you, but you can’t even stand to make eye contact with them? Get it together!

After mentally chastising himself, he quickly retreated to the comfort of the empty passageway and breathed a sigh of relief. Making his way slowly back toward the mechbay, he stood in front of this tarp covered mech and closed his eyes. Ever since he’d recovered the beast from the swamp, the nightmares had been getting worse. Now he was becoming uncomfortable around his fellow soldiers, and anxiety crept into every part of his day. Putting one hand on the edge of the tarp, he could feel his grip tightening, wanting so desperately to yank it down and cast the mech into deep space. Andrew clenched his eyes shut tightly and tried to relax his shaking hand.

Eksander’s Swamp
Southern Continent, Tarazed
Two years earlier

"Ammunition...destroyed."

Andrew gritted his teeth against the force of the explosion that essentially removed the right half of his mech. His mech stumbling, warning klaxons screamed at him from every angle as he fought to keep the mech upright. Through his view screen, Andrew could only scream impotently as the Mad Cat effortlessly glided back into the shadows of the swamp, content to pick him apart slowly, one component at a time.

Finally having regained his balance, Andrew began to retreat cautiously from where the Mad Cat had disappeared. With little else to do, Andrew fired off one of his remaining medium lasers into the shadows where his enemy had last stood. The incredible heat that washed over him caused him to immediately regret his foolish action. As if in response, a cereulean beam of coherent light shot out from a different area of the forest, melting away the last of his armor on his right leg. Cursing his misfortune, Andrew continued to retreat away from the Mad Cat, desperately trying to put obstacles between himself and the Jaguar mech. As he did, a persistent beeping began to bludgeon its way through the warning klaxons, eventually drowning out the other noises within the cockpit. It took a second for Andrew to remember what it meant, but when he did, the slightest of smiles began to cross his face.

Mech Bay 1
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
28 February, 10:20 Hrs.

With a long exhalation through his nostrils Andrew released his grip on the tarp, and felt himself calming down. Reflexively he bent down to stoop under the tarp but stopped himself, deciding instead to make an attempt to be social. As he walked towards the passage between Mech Bay 1 and Mech Bay 2, Andrew took some satisfaction from the resounding booms of his magboots upon the deckplating. The Mad Cat was still an enemy, still trying to destroy him from within. However, Andrew knew it could be tamed, could be brought to heel. All he needed was time. Ducking through the bulkhead, Andrew spied a kind of cute tech working on a centurion and decided to try to introduce himself.

Edited by Listless Nomad, 19 June 2013 - 03:00 PM.

[Sparks Murphey]

Mech Bay 2
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
28 February, 10:20 Hrs

The clomp of magboots echoed from the corridor. Probably Freddy Dehler with that refractometer she’d asked for. Freddy was a nice enough, but he needed to lighten up. The astech seemed to spend most of his time moping. Zoé had a plan to deal with that. Moving slowly so as not to make too much noise, she slipped from the open AC to hide behind the raised pauldron of the Centurion’s left shoulder. As the footsteps slowed in front of the BattleMech, she sprang from her position.

“Think fast!” Zoé shouted, launching herself knees first down towards the figure below, throwing balls of insulation foam at him. It wasn’t until Zoé was already committed to her flight path that she realised that he wasn’t wearing Freddy’s generic tech overalls, but a Solari-Os t-shirt and Lyran field cap. Zoé engaged her magboots and lashed out with her feet, trying to get a grip on the side of the Centurion, but couldn’t shift her orientation quickly enough before colliding with the man in an unceremonious pile.

“Sorry about that,” she said, with an awkward grin as she disentangled herself, “I thought you were someone else.”

Edited by Sparks Murphey, 19 June 2013 - 04:35 PM.

[Listless Nomad]

Mech Bay 2
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
28 February, 10:20 Hrs

“Think fast!”

Andrew quickly looked up towards the source of the shout, only to raise an arm to shield himself from foam insulation balls being hurled at him. In his walk towards the mech, he’d lost sight of the tech and it was now evident why. She’d meant to ambush him. For the first time in a long while, Andrew felt himself smiling, but as he peeked from behind his arm, his face turned to alarm. It was clear that the tech was not going to be unable to stop herself, and moments later collided with Andrew, knocking the both of them to the deck.

“Sorry about that,” she said, with an awkward grin as she disentangled herself, “I thought you were someone else.”

“Boy I envy them…” Andrew replied sarcastically. Despite the collision, he was still in good spirits, and was helped to his feet by the smallish tech. With a grin, Andrew stuck out his hand and shook the young woman’s hand warmly.

“The name’s Andrew Wheeler. Everybody calls me doc…though don’t tell the ship’s surgeon.”

She grinned. "I won't if you won't. Uh, I'm Zoé Winchester, Quickscell Kalidasa."

Andrew smirked as he recognized where that particular planet was located. “A Leaguer eh?” Andrew replied, letting a little more Germanic huskiness enter his voice than normal. “It’s very nice to meet you Zoé, although I’ll have to be more careful if I visit the FWL in the future…considering their greetings.” Turning and looking up at the Centurion, Andrew let out a low whistle.

“That’s quite the fancy piece of hardware you’ve got mounted there. What is that? A UAC5?”

"A full rotary, actually. None of this one-two stuff, it'll keep firing as long you hold the trigger down. We're taking it on a field test. I may have had something to do with its design," she said, a touch of pride in her voice.

Andrew shook his head appreciatively. “Rotary autocannons. What I would have given to have one of those babies against the Jags. Have you ever been on a combat drop Zoé?”

"Well, we took the Cent out for some friendly mudwresting against a live-fire simulation. That was a fun week, mostly spent rinsing mud out of mechanisms," she said, "but no, not actual gun blazing combat. What's it like?"

A dark cloud passed over Andrew’s eyes for a brief moment, but he managed to suppress it in light of his new friend’s eagerness. “It’s a lot less friendly…I can tell you that.” Zoé laughed briefly before pressing on.

“Have you ever opened your cockpit and finished off another 'Mech with your pistol?" Zoe asked, before seeing Andrew's look of horror and adding, "Joking! I'm not that fresh. We bolt the weapons on outside the protective glass for a reason."

Andrew frowned for a moment. “Protective glass doesn’t always protect you I’m afraid…” Zoé noticed his more sullen demeanor and a slight frown crossed her face. The burned and charred face of Lola Scott, left to rot in her cockpit, burned itself into Andrew’s mind’s eye.

“I’ll need a drink if we are going to share war stories Zoé, care to accompany me? “

"Uh, I'd love to, but," she pointed back over her shoulder with a thumb, "she's still being fussy and I need to get her figured out before we reach Coventry, in case we need spares. How about next time?"

Andrew laughed, but inside felt a little deflated. “A tech’s work is never done, right? I’ll definitely be cashing in on that raincheck however. Just hunt me down somewhere around the ship, but don’t bother with my quarters.” With that, Andrew waved goodbye and began clomping off towards the crew section of the ship, watching with a smirk as Zoé somewhat gracefully launched herself back towards the massive gun.

[The Shepherd]

"So if ders anoting else... dismissed."
A multitude of questions begging to be addressed almost forced him to demand more information.

Almost.

“Not trying to pry, just need to know where I stand.”

Dove... a deceptive callsign for a deceptive woman. What’s going on behind those cold eyes? Is it all just business for you?
Cees let his gaze linger on the professionally held face for a moment longer than was socially appropriate while she and Thom spoke.

"So if ders anoting else... dismissed."
Oh there’s plenty.
Cees opened his mouth to launch into a frustrated and questioning tirade, but thought better of it. It was obvious that even if Thom knew more than he was letting on, he certainly wouldn’t be saying anything else in front of the assembled mechwarriors. It also occurred to him that too much questioning of the CO in front of the troops wouldn’t instil much confidence in command’s decision making. Especially considering the group’s general feeling of trepidation toward their upcoming opposition.
Later then...

He looked around the rest of the pilots and managed a smile, lingering on the retreating back of another man he didn’t recognise. Catching him in profile as he turned from the door, he mentally sifted through the dossiers of pilots and general crew. No-one came to mind. Having made it his mission to know everyone on board, that worried him.
Standing, he resolved to track the man down and question him. “I’ll be in the mess for the rest of the workshift,” he stated to those still assembled, “if you have any logistical questions or requisition requests for when we’re next dirtside, you can find me there.”
Everyone looks pretty dour. Come on, what do the drudgery like...
“Make sure you get me to write it down though, the Greeks want me to try something called ‘Ouzo’. I can’t vouch for my memory if it’s as strong as it smells.”

Clunking from the room with what passed for a grin, he watched the unknown man head around the curvature of the egg shaped dropship’s halls. Following at a distance, so the loud, telltale sound of his mag-boots didn’t give him away, he guessed the destination of the man.
So he’s headed to the mechbay... no doubt the owner of the tarp-covered cargo.
Pausing around the curvature from the mech-bay’s dividing passage, he listened as the man entered and was immediately greeted by a call. The words were muffled from the distance and the reverberation off of the ship’s metal walls. He had to get closer. Quietly.

Using the handrail on the side of the passage, he levered himself off of the mag-lock to the floor. Propelling himself down the passage to the bulkhead above the mech-bay entrances, he softened his impact with the wall, accordioning to slow himself to a complete stop. In position above the walk way, hidden from anyone walking from the bay back down the corridor, he listened in.
So. Andrew Wheeler. A mech-jock with experience against the Clans. Callsign Doc, though not a med-tech assigned to the crew. The tarped cargo has to be his mech.
He watched silently as the man walked back out beneath him, oblivious to his presence.
I’ll be watching you Doc...
Pushing back off of the bulkhead after Andrew was long gone, he floated back down the passageway and made gentle contact with the floor, turning and making his way back to the quarters and his mountain of paperwork.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Thom's Room
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance?
1 March, 03:34 Hrs.

Whereas most military commanders prided themselves with having a Spartan personal quarters with only a few luxury items such as old hardcopy books, Thom's room was a rats-nest cluttered with various knickknacks and souvenirs from his travels across the Inner Sphere and beyond. In a corner three shrunken heads hung, eerily floating in the nil gravity while across the way a large wooden carving of a tiki-totem was held fast to the wall somehow. Chattering glow-in-the-dark vampire teeth floated lazily by a netted down wardrobe with several pairs of sunglasses laid out in something akin to a parade rest. Beside them rested a pickled pig fetus in a large mason jar. Trunks and chests lay stacked somewhat neatly against the wall, their contents more random things, strapped down with cargo nets.

To the casual observer it would seem that the Terror's commander was something of a Pack-Rat, and he indeed was. With an odd taste for the macabre and exotic, Thom would spend any free time he had on a planet scouring flea markets and bazars looking for things, the weirder the better. While for the most part he wouldn't spend anymore than a few c-bills on an oddity, some things he just couldn't resist buying.

If there was anything that Thom said with pride about his quarters, it was the fact that there wasn't a spot anywhere in the room that he didn't have some type of weapon within arms reach, as the handles of many knives and swords hung out statically from the heaping piles, crates and even from between the folds of the mattress of his bunk.

With a choked off snore the slumbering Warlockian flopped over despite being strapped down to his bunk.

[[Queue Dream/Flashback]]

Silver Eagle Memorial, Davion Peace Park,
Crusis March, New Avalon
14th February, 3049 10:45 Hrs

"Thom, would you like to have sex?" The young woman's voice slurred through the fog of Thom's drug addled mind, cutting off the goofy giggle on his lips as he leaned heavily up against the granite memorial urinating all over it. Shaking off the last few drops he leaned back to look over the statue dedicated to the Kell Hounds that sacrificed themselves on Styx rescuing Melissa Steiner from ISF ninjas shortly before the Fourth Succession War. Weaving drunkenly he made his way back to the dorky NAIS girl his dorm-mate hooked him up with.

"Uz... yeah's" He giggled drunkenly as he fumbled with the belt of his cadet's uniform, dropping his pants till they were looped around this ankles he fell upon the soggy grass beside the young coed. Clumsy kissing, fondling, and much awkward teeth mashing ensued, with brief pauses to offer apologies to one another. She began to undress, slowly peeling off the over sized NAIS sweater she was wearing. And as she undressed Thom's eyes devoured the display of flesh between long pulls off the bottle of black spiced rum they managed to procure. As the top got tossed aside, two perfect orbs of woman flesh sprung out as the Warlockian looked on with a lecherous grin on his face.
[[End Dream/Flashback

Knock, knock! Someones tapping on the tiny teak panel mounted alongside the hatch to Thom's cabin snapped him out of the dream. Groggrily Thom rolled out of his bunk, knocking the misc junk and knickknacks that cluttered up his room about as he made his way to the hatch. With a tug he threw open the hatch and stared bleary eyed at the man that woke him who stood basking in the hallways harsh light.

"Uhh... Davos? Yeah's wat is it?" Thom pushed strands of mo-hawk out of his face before rubbing his eyes. He knew that none of the Pride's crewmen would wake him unless it was important.

"Thomas, Captain Templeton has sent word that we're ready to jump." The jumpsuited spacer simply stated just before the Achilles Pride's inboard communication system sounded with a loud klaxon that'd wake the slumbering mercenary up had Davos hadn't. Jump was imminent. Thom looked at his chronometer and nodded before Davos.

"Good. I'llsa be down soon." Thom added as Davos walked off to ready the 'Pride for the next part of their piggy back ride towards wherever the Irregulars wanted them.

Five hours? Thom had to tip his hat to the Irregulars. Then sure knew how to move men and material.

With that thought he dressed and made his way to the bridge so he could be introduced to the next insufferable chuckle headed jumpship captain who's ship the Pride would be hitching a ride on.

EDIT: Added some words and did some simple editing.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 23 June 2013 - 01:24 AM.

[The Shepherd]

Mess Hall
Union Class Dropship, Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
28th February, 14:04hrs.

“Mr Wheeler. A word. If you please.”

Cees had resumed his previous position by himself with noteputer, papers and files splayed out across a table in the Mess.
After attending to the pieces of work he’d left before the meeting, he’d spent the last half an hour searching for merc net files on mech pilots named “Andrew Wheeler”, cross referencing searches with the callsign “Doc”. Nothing. His data bases on regular units with the Commonwealth were old, and sketchy at best. He’d noted with disgust, in fact, that the entries regarding his own action on Coventry had been cobbled together from second hand accounts.
Loki must have clamped down on official file lifting. An interesting avenue of opportunity...

As the other mechwarrior rose and approached with an uneasy expression, he cleared what little he’d garnered from the noteputer screen . Wheeler sat upon gestured direction and remained in the awkward silence that ensued.
After a moment of rapid typing, Cees looked up and did his best to smile.
“We haven’t met,” He stated simply, “As the XO for the Terrors for this deployment, I find this inexcusable. The fault, however, is not with you. Thom, so I have discovered, has this nasty habit of ‘acquiring’ people and not informing anyone.”
He rolled his eyes and made an abysmal attempt at a chuckle.

“I know next to nothing about you. Your history, your qualifications ... your ride,” the pause was especially pregnant, “I keep dossier on all personnel and related equipment. Helps with running a tight ship you see. I’ll save on tedium by asking you to have a personnel file with whatever you’re happy to disclose ready for me by 0900 tomorrow. However, I would like to ask you a few questions.”
Straight away? Keep him on the back foot? No, no. Let him feel comfortable.

“If, you don’t mind.”

[Spokes]

Mess Hall
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
28 February, 3061 -- 14:05 Hrs

Li floated through the lock into the mess hall, one hand gripping the pressure collar just long enough to shift her direction towards the food dispensary at the back of the room. The space sickness pills had worked their magic, but the 'non-drowsy' label on the box had turned out to be nothing more than marketing bulls***. No matter, there was a quick and easy solution for that.

A slight flick of the wrist sent the metal case she was carrying towards one of the mounted steel tables-- embedded magnets locked onto the table's surface and held the case fast as Li continued on to the back wall.

The ceramic tumbler from the overhead compartment fit neatly into the dispenser's socket. Li turned one of the dials until "coffee" flashed on the display, then mashed the "strength" button until the meter was all the way up-- and then a few more times for good measure. The whir of the grinder was soon replaced by the hiss and dribble of hot liquid being fired into the sealed container.

Comstar.

Li pulled the tumbler free and floated back to the table she'd claimed. Comstar was notorious for playing its own game from both sides of the board, and the revelation that the Irregulars were relying on them for intelligence was more than a little unnerving. Everything seemed on the level so far, but something about this job screamed "disposable assets".

The way my contract is written, the bank still gets paid even if I don't make it back. So there's that at least. Li's eyes narrowed as she anchored herself to one of the chairs. Still, it's going to be very interesting to see how much effort went into the contingency and exit planning. Heartless a**holes do tend to be the lazy sort.

Li took a long pull from the tumbler, silently thanking the person who'd hit on the idea of turning a z-gee fuel tank into a coffee mug. The metal case clammed open to reveal a heavy-duty technician's noteputer. Li pulled out the stylus, tapping it on the side of the table as the machine powered up with an audible hum. . .

[Listless Nomad]

Mess Hall
Union Class Dropship, Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
28th February, 14:04hrs.

Andrew sat alone, cautiously trying to determine exactly what it was he was eating. The mess on board the ship was running a little low on supplies, having gone light in favor of fully resupplying on Coventry. The fruits of that decision now sat…oozing…on Wheeler’s tray. With a slight crinkle to his nose, Andrew brought his spoon to his mouth, but was thankfully interrupted by a curt call from across the mess.

“Mr Wheeler. A word. If you please.”

Andrew’s heart sank when who saw who it was that had called his name. The unwavering stare from the man made it blatantly obvious that this was not a social call. Although happy to be spared from whatever it was the chef had concocted, Andrew made no effort to rush over to the pale man’s table.

After a few moments, it was obvious what the XO was after.

My mech. The Mad Cat. I…I can’t keep it a secret any longer. But I have to! They’ll think me a traitor, or a spy. I’ll be looked down upon, excluded, ostracized! They’ll find out soon enough anyway…

“However, I would like to ask you a few questions. If, you don’t mind.”

Wheeler swallowed involuntarily and tried to keep his composure.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss some aspects of my person, as per an agreement with our commanding officer sir. There are things that aren’t….finished yet, and I’d rather not discuss them until they are.”

Don’t panic…don’t panic.

Wheeler could see the disdain growing on the face of the man sitting across from him, and this only increased Andrew’s nerves.

“As for a personnel file, I’ll write up what I can divulge and make sure you get it as soon as possible.My ride though..you'll uh...have to ask the boss man about that.”

Wheeler’s voice was beginning to strain at this point.

“So...it’s been…uh…very nice to meet you and I’ll…see you round?”

DON’T PANIC!

Wheeler panicked. Without another word, he pushed himself back from the mess table, snapped a salute and exited the mess hall. As soon as the metal bulkhead shut behind him, Wheeler broke out into a run toward the mechbay and his mech. He passed several surprised techs and didn’t stop until he was inside the cockpit of the Mad Cat. Without thinking, he began strapping the five point harness on, and nearly began the fusion reactor start up sequence before he managed to restrain himself. Taking a deep breath, Wheeler closed his eyes, allowing himself to melt into the restraints that now snugly held his body to the seat.
As he closed his eyes, Wheeler could feel himself at the controls of his new toy, its power and grace flowing through his finger tips. As he opened his eyes, his reflection in the cockpit glass smiled back at him. Suddenly, the reflection changed. It was now a rotting skull, restrained in the straps just as he was now. The skull smiled, the pearl color of its bone in stark contrast to the snarling jaguar painted on its helmet. As Wheeler looked deep into the sockets where eyes once were, the skull began a sickening laugh.

Wheeler awoke with a start. His behavior was getting worse, and if he couldn’t conquer this demon, he knew it would get him scrubbed from the mission. With a look of disgust on his face, Wheeler slapped the restraint release and grabbed a floating tool box, intent on finishing the tweaks to the command console and continuing to make this mech his.

As he worked, Wheeler found himself glancing time after time at a single word etched in chalk on the right side of the cockpit wall.

Huntress

Edited by Listless Nomad, 25 June 2013 - 02:00 PM.

[Sparks Murphey]

Mech Bay 1
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
1 March, 02:10 Hrs

As she approached the tarp, Adrianna tried to guess what the machine under it could be. Not small, in any case. It had to be a heavy at the least, probably one of the long-body machines like the Marauder or Dragon. Perhaps a Rakshasa? That could get ugly. She’d heard that GM and NAIS were experimenting with mounting a RAC/5 on the MDG chassis, though the chances were slim that two ‘Mechs trialing similar weapons would be circumstantially on the same DropShip. Unless ComStar set that up...nah, that was just paranoia. Probably.

She let the juice box she was carrying slip from her fingers and drift towards the lower edge of the tarp, using it’s escape as an excuse to bend closer. Tentatively, she lifted the edge, finding...

...a three toed metal foot crushed the tent as the Mad Cat tromped through their makeshift camp. She had to get to her Phoenix Hawk quickly before the MGs cut her down...

No way. Adrianna had to see. She ducked her head underneath the tarp, taking in the curves and angles of the Mad Cat, far more graceful than it emulator the Rakshasa. Certainly not the original Clan weapon pods on it. Coventry or Luthien pods? Or customs? Where had it come from? It wasn’t like they were rare among the Clans, but they still weren’t common in the hands of the Inner Sphere, especially minor mercenaries. Was it stolen? That might explain the tarp.

The questions whirled in her head, quite distracting her from the sounds of the cockpit opening.

[The Shepherd]

Mess Hall
Union Class Dropship, Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
28th February, 14:05hrs.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss some aspects of my person, as per an agreement with our commanding officer sir. There are things that aren’t….finished yet, and I’d rather not discuss them until they are.”
...What?

“As for a personnel file, I’ll write up what I can divulge and make sure you get it as soon as possible.My ride though..you'll uh...have to ask the boss man about that.”

… WHAT?!?

“So...it’s been…uh…very nice to meet you and I’ll…see you round?”

A vice-like grasp on the table in front of him kept Cees from rocketing after the oddly behaving pilot.
White knuckled frustration gripped him as blazing pink eyes scanned the mess hall for Thom, Andrew momentarily forgotten.

There’s another pilot -and- mech in on this op and he didn’t say anything!?!

The fact that there was a tarped up piece of cargo sitting in the bay next to his own Uziel deliberately hidden from not just him, but the rest of the crew of the dropship had bothered him right from the get go. Now that he knew it was a mech, and that Thom had kept that particular fact from him, Thom’s XO was furious.

Taking just a few seconds to clear all files from his noteputer screen and lock it from prying eyes, he stood with the outward appearance of calm. Thom wasn’t here, no doubt in his quarters.

No. no. Calm. God only knows what he’s doing in there... when then?

He unlocked his noteputer again and checked the day-schedule. Their next jump in the circuit was due for 0345 the following morning. Thom would no doubt be needed on the bridge to liaise with the next jump-ship captain. A perfect opportunity to corner him...
The question was, whether to invade the new pilot’s privacy and check out the mech himself.

Patience. Patience is key. Especially dealing with this band of...

Taking a few deep breaths to centre himself, he sat down, still simmering. He knew all the details would come to light eventually. He just had to wait...

Bridge
Union Class Dropship, Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
1st March, 03:43 hrs.

The flight deck hatch swung open behind the immaculately groomed Coventrian, clad in mag-boots and jumpsuit. He stood in a commanding position, behind and slightly above the Dropship Captain’s chair. He didn’t turn to meet the engressor however.

“Good morning Thom,” Cees purred, “you’re just in time for the jump. Before that happens though, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
He looked back over his shoulder to his groggy CO, teeth bared in a predatory smile.

“If, you dont mind.”

[Listless Nomad]

Mech Bay 1
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
1 March, 02:10 Hrs

Wheeler had finally fallen asleep, having dozed off whilst working on a panel in the cockpit. It was a dreamless sleep, but furtive nonetheless. In one of the moments where he briefly woke, something caught Wheeler’s eye. A subtle shifting in the tarp around his mech, would to anyone else seem innocuous, but not to Wheeler. In a flash off panic, he quickly fumbled with the release clasp on his harness before smacking the cockpit release hatch. As he clambered out of the cockpit and stood on the mech’s chassis, he saw what he feared most. One of the mechwarriors from the meeting was standing at the base of his mech, gazing unabashedly at the thing he had tried to keep secret for so long.

“HEY!” As quickly as he could, Wheeler began to clamber down the side of the mech, refusing to take advantage of the lack of gravity in order to give himself time to think.

The cat’s out of the bag Wheeler. You are in it now…

The mechwarrior looked up suddenly, surprised at the shout and the sudden commotion above her.

Reaching the hard metal of the deck plating, Wheeler began to run towards Adrianna, his magboots echoing throughout the silent mech bay.

“No! No! No! You aren’t supposed to see this! You aren’t supposed to know about this!”

"Why not? Is it under contract or something? I'm going to have to see it eventually, if you're taking it on op with us."

The frank and honest response from the female mechwarrior gave Andrew pause. He’d expected anger, or suspicion, or jealousy, or anything. Instead he got indifference, or at best mild amusement. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought. Taking a long look at the mech above him, Wheeler closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You…you are right. I don't know why I'm so fearful of people seeing it. This...this is the mech that almost killed me 2 years ago. It kind of messed me up.”

"Well, maybe that's why you don't want it to be seen," Adriana said, sitting down on the Mad Cat's leg, a nearly pointless movement in the zero-gee. "Wanna talk about it?"

Andrew slumped his shoulders. “I probably should. But, no offense - what would you know about it?"

She was silent a moment. "I was on the Clan front lines in '52. Never won a battle, but got called a hero because some of the people I managed to get out were journalists who appreciated it. Still left a lot of dead behind. I've got an eight year old son who I haven't spoken to in...four years?...because I just can't understand him or his father anymore."

Andrew’s shoulders slackened somewhat. “Forgive me… I didn't know. I guess I'm not as special a snowflake as I thought..."
After Andrew had recounted his time during Operation Bird Dog, Adrianna gave him a soft, slightly weary smile. "I can see how you'd want to bury this thing and never set eyes on it again. But you've already done better than that. You've beaten it, and made it yours.

"And yeah, you're not the only one to have been scarred from war. You think Frankfurt's normal? Or Anthonissen behind that paranoia? But everyone's scars are unique, and only they can decide how to respond to them. I can't tell you how to fix your problems any more than you can tell me how to fix my life. But talking helps."

She waved a hand. "And now I'm getting philosophical."

Andrew let out a hearty laugh. "That's not bad advice. I guess I do need to talk about this. It's the only way I’ll be able to move past I think. I’ll have to talk to everyone after the next jump. You doing anything tonight Adrianna? It's pretty late."

"Besides sneaking around playing amateur detective? Not really, what did you have in mind?"

Andrew laughed once more. "That sounds like too much fun. Anything else you are snooping around for?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. Tempting as it may be to sneak some photos of Cees' Uziel and mail 'em back to Quickscell, I'd probably better behave," she added with a smirk.

Andrew cocked his head to the side. "I knew that I didn't recognize that design! I just thought I'd been underground too long. Is he some kind of special pilot?"

Adrianna shrugged. "I've never heard of him as a test pilot, but that doesn't mean he isn't one. I didn't think the Uziel was out of the gates yet, but I guess they went with the Defiance Shredder over the Mydron Tornado."

"Whew. Way over my head. Then again, with all the guts I've torn out of that thing," he thumbed over his shoulder towards the Mad Cat, "I probably know more Clan manufacturers than Inner Sphere ones…”

"Where did you get the parts? If you don't mind me asking, that is," she added hastily, "I was guessing they were pods sourced from either the Sunder or the Hauptmann."

Andrew looked down at his feet for a moment, before looking up and responding with a slight edge of pride in his voice. “A lot of it was cobbled together from here or there. I took the MG off an APC but had to sell off the right arm weapons to get her out of the swamp. I built the replacement myself. I snagged the PPC from a dead hulk on Solaris and spend a month welding the housing around it. She’s not a looker, but she’s my baby.”

“So you’re your own tech?”

“Unfortunately yeah...don't have the money to hire my own. I was hoping that the Terrors could help me out on that front. I bumped into a pretty cute one working on a Centurion's RAC the other day.”

"Who, Zoé? Don't you go trying to poach her, buddy, that's my Cent she's working on," Adrianna said with a chuckle, "And I'll tell her you said she's cute."

Andrew blushed uncontrollably. "Wha..No...I mean. Oh lord." Covering his face with his hand, Andrew sighed hard. "I need to get some sleep." Andrew turned to climb back up the madcat, but stopped himself as he reached out for the hand rung. He turned to face Adrianna, his voice low and concillitory. "I want to thank you Adrianna for taking the time to speak to me tonight. You probably saved me from getting scrubbed off this mission. I...kinda ran away from Cees the other day. I haven't seen him since, but I'm sure to get chewed out. I think I'll sleep in my own quarters tonight - give the old girl a rest."

"If you need any help with Cees, let me know. And I promise not to mention your ride."

"Thanks Adrianna, I appreciate it." With that Andrew shook Adrianna's hand and walked alone through the bowels of the ship to his unused room. The instant his head touched the pillow he fell into a dreamless sleep.

[Sparks Murphey]

Mech Bay 2
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride

The simulator lacked the g-forces generated by the tight turns and quick accelerations the Centurion was doing, but that was something Adrianna could compensate for. The first real value here was the familiarity with the interface between the MechWarrior and the ‘Mech: the hundreds of controls, switches and buttons that she would use to communicate to her machine and the lights, dials and HUD images that it would reply with.

Adrianna turned the ‘Mech through a fictional winery, her eyes focused on the map display that showed the last known location and projected possible movement of the Gunslinger and Bushwacker that were her targets. The distilling vats and storage tanks around her were barely acknowledged as her subconscious took over the task of avoiding obstacles.

Based on her guess of how the Bushwacker would respond (which, she admitted, was more through knowing the simulator than any real psychology), it was most likely to have moved to intercept her and should be coming into sight...now. The simulator didn’t disappoint, and she was rewarded with a glimpse of the squat BattleMech trampling an artificial row of vines.

Which brought her to the second real value to the simulator: getting a feel for the behaviour of the rotary autocannon. She twitched the reticle slightly to the left onto the target, twisted the thumb dial for the RAC up to four times speed, and pulled the trigger.

Alarms blared in the cockpit, reporting major structural damage to the right arm, but that wasn’t half as impressive as what happened to the Bushwacker. Two rounds caught it full in the side torso, crumpling the entire ‘Mech like paper and showering shards of metal in a spectacular burst. The remains of the ‘Mech then vanished over the virtual horizon at supersonic speed, exploding dramatically some kilometres away.

Adrianna slowed the Centurion to a stop and looked at her own damage displays. According to them, the ‘Mech’s right arm was severed at the elbow, and, turning, she could see the trail of damage it had left in the course of it’s own flight.

“Pause simulation,” she said, “Zoé, what just happened?”

“Working on it,” came the reply over her headset.

Idly, Adrianna sat back and considered the frozen image of the Gunslinger, jumping above the ridgeline some 400 metres away. It probably wouldn’t have got shots off at her this jump, but it would have the next. The best protection from it’s gauss rifles would have been a rapid swing to the right and behind that tank, though would the Centurion be able to handle a turn like that?

“Okay, I’ve found the error,” Zoé’s voice came back, “The simulation’s sdk was apparently expecting the mass of the rounds to be in tons, not kilograms, so we just shot that Bushwacker with a supersonic light truck. Should be fixed now. Do you want me to reset the simulation?”

“Nah, I think I’ll take a break, got some reading I want to finish,” Adrianna said, pulling off the neurohelmet and opening the cockpit’s hatch. Zoé was waiting for her, standing “sideways” on the ‘Mech’s right shoulder.

“Perchance to Command? I hadn’t picked you as a romance type,” Zoé said with a grin.

“How did you find out?” Adrianna asked.

“You left it out this morning, when you were pretending to read the jump report.”

“I thought you were meant to be an engineer, not a detective,” Adrianna grumbled.

“Sharp eyes are sharp eyes,” Zoé chuckled.

“Speaking of sharp eyes,” Adrianna said, adding, “and romance,” in her head, “would you be able to spare some time to help Andrew Wheeler with his ‘Mech? He’s trying to rebuild it, but doing it on his own. He could really use a hand.”

“Andrew? Oh, yeah, I met him the other day. What ‘Mech is he working on?” Zoé asked.

“That’s not really for me to say,” Adrianna replied, “but I think you’ll be excited.”

Zoé shrugged, “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Besides, he owes me a drink.”

Edited by Sparks Murphey, 01 July 2013 - 03:37 AM.

[RogueSpear]

Personal Quarters,
Fortress Class Dropship, Rorke's Drift,
Coventry, Lyran Alliance,
29^th March, 3061, 19:22 Hours,

Vantas sipped at a glass of port while he reviewed his Angels most recent results in their new machines. Bacons linebreaker lance was beginning to adapt better to their machines from their progress, but he remained unconvinced Bacon was used to his ride yet rather than simply getting used to the simulation. He marked down the whole sim to be reworked.
By himself.
Once he'd had enough port to sustain his will to live throughout the ordeal.
He sighed. Lucifers Bane seemed to be improving though. The kinks with it's weapons systems seemed to be ironing themselves out, hopefully it would be as vile on the battlefield as he imagined.
Adept Smith's knock on the door was a welcome distraction. He flipped the dataslate towards the electromagnet that served as his desk. "Come in."
The Adept entered, garbed in white robes with a black banding. The banding was embroidered with a nordic crimson patterning couple with several ComStar icons. He bowed, the gesture causing his robes to fold unnaturally in the nigh nonexistent gravity field. "Master Frankfurt's unit has arrived in system sir."
Vantas perked up, pushing himself to his feet. "Excellent. Have him and his men transferred through to us once they've docked with The Drunkard's Walk. Inform Admiral Cochrane to prepare for jump, if he isn't already."
The adept bowed again and left, Captain Vantas Strider cracked his knuckles and leaned back into his chair. Perhaps Thom could be convinced to help with the new simulations after seeing his new ride.

Edited by RogueSpear, 04 July 2013 - 09:25 AM.

[Listless Nomad]

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

Andrew could feel himself beginning to sweat. Uncomfortable and nervous as hell, Wheeler now found himself standing at parade rest in front of the assembled company of Thom’s Terrors mechwarriors and a few curious techs who had stopped by. It had taken him a couple of days to track down all the mech jocks on the ship, and convince them to come to his impromptu meeting in front of the tarped Mad Cat. His behavior thus far on the trip had not earned him many friends aboard the ship, and only Adrianna and Zoé flashed him smiles while he waited. Cees had been the worst, refusing to acknowledge Wheeler’s existence beyond harsh glares and stony silence. Eventually Wheeler had just taped a message to his door urging him to come to the meeting where he’d explain everything. Now seeing that everyone had assembled, Wheeler swallowed involuntarily and cleared his throat.

“I want to thank you all for coming, I know I’ve haven’t made it easy for any of you to get to know me. It’s…it’s important to know and to trust your comrades before going into battle. I know that I’ve failed you all in this regard. A few days ago, through circumstances beyond my control…things…changed for me.” Adrianna flashed Andrew a knowing smile. “As a result, I’ve gathered you all here today to beg your forgiveness, and to come clean with anything you might wish to know. I can’t force you to trust me, and I know it will take time. In the mean time, I offer you this…”

With that, Wheeler turned and pulled on a guide rope, causing the tarp to be drawn off of the Mad Cat, and revealing it to the assembled crowd. The mech almost sparkled in the light from the mechbay, showing off the armor patches Wheeler had made, as well as the home made right arm pod housing a single ERPPC.

Turning once more to face the crowd, Andrew rubbed his hands together reflexively.
“So…uh….thoughts?”

[Thom Frankfurt]

Bridge
Union Class Dropship, Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
1st March, 03:43 hrs.

The flight deck hatch swung open behind the immaculately groomed Coventrian, clad in mag-boots and jumpsuit. He stood in a commanding position, behind and slightly above the Dropship Captain’s chair. He didn’t turn to meet the engressor however.

“Good morning Thom,” Cees purred, “you’re just in time for the jump. Before that happens though, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
He looked back over his shoulder to his groggy CO, teeth bared in a predatory smile.

“If, you dont mind.”

Thom blinked at Cees smug greeting.

Just what in the blue blazes does this freak want at this hour? Need to stall....
"Иисус Сес, это чертовски рано для психического спарринг."

Thom replied in his native Russian, which caused the still albino's predatory look to be replaced with something akin to a bemused look

Ahh Hell, don't tell me he know's the tongue... Knowing this guy, he just might, or he's sharp enough to remember it to look up later... or maybe he's even recording this conversation...need to gather my wits.

Thom then rubbed his eyes and held up a hand to forestall whatever response the abnormally intelligent man was to come up with.

"It'sa early. If you'sa wanna talk it'sa gonna have to's wait till we's make da jump or wheneva's I'ms either more drunk or sober..." Thom paused noticing the serious unhappy look upon his XO's face, he didn't like that idea, and Thom suddenly thought over the many things that could have angered the man... "Okaies after da jump."

Thom then made his way towards where Sofia sat at her station monitoring communications.

"Hey's Sofi." Thom offered Davos' daughter as way of greeting. "Get'sa Captain Temple-ton (Thom has a problem pronouncing the name) on da horn an let hims aknow dat we's aready to jump. Ah.... we'res aready right, Davos?" the Molas family patriarch nodded "Yes Thomas."

Thom then straightened up and floated over to take up position behind the captain's seat as a loud GONG reverberated throughout the 'Pride. Thom grabbed a hold of the backrest of Davos' seat with a with knuckle grip but remained upright and with something akin to a confident posture as Sofia announced over the on board intercom that a jump procedure was taking place.

"Attention, attention, all personnel. Jump procedure initiated and commencing in fifty seconds... Please secure yourselves."

(Thom hates jumps but doesn't want to appear weak in front of the spacers by strapping himself into a jump seat.)

The seconds ticked down with two more of the loud GONGs sounding once at the thirty second mark and once again at the ten second mark. As they ticked down, Thom thought of Captain Templeton, the captain of the merchant class jump ship that the Pride was attached to like a parasite. The man reminded Thom strangely of Nor Azman with the lank, greasy hair and a dangerous predatory look in his eye. But all similarities ended there. This man was blond, with a sloping forehead, and an odd order about him... Not bad, just funky, like Chinese food that set out too long on a hot day...

At the zero mark it seemed like the whole world tunneled, stretched, then got pounded flat amidst a psycho fireworks show as the merchant jump ship tore and plunged through the very fabric of Eisensteinian space to emerge thirty light years distant from where they were a second before... Thom looked over to the not so smug looking Cees and retracted his trembling hand from Davos' seat.

"We'lls atalk later." Thom muttered meekly.

[[For the sake of speeding things up, let's just say that they do.]]
*************************************************************

Listless Nomad, on 07 July 2013 - 08:40 PM, said:

Mech Bay 1 Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride Deep Space, Lyran Alliance 3 March, 11:30 Hrs Andrew could feel himself beginning to sweat. Uncomfortable and nervous as hell, Wheeler now found himself standing at parade rest in front of the assembled company of Thom’s Terrors mechwarriors and a few curious techs who had stopped by. It had taken him a couple of days to track down all the mech jocks on the ship, and convince them to come to his impromptu meeting in front of the tarped Mad Cat. His behavior thus far on the trip had not earned him many friends aboard the ship, and only Adrianna and Zoé flashed him smiles while he waited. Cees had been the worst, refusing to acknowledge Wheeler’s existence beyond harsh glares and stony silence. Eventually Wheeler had just taped a message to his door urging him to come to the meeting where he’d explain everything. Now seeing that everyone had assembled, Wheeler swallowed involuntarily and cleared his throat. “I want to thank you all for coming, I know I’ve haven’t made it easy for any of you to get to know me. It’s…it’s important to know and to trust your comrades before going into battle. I know that I’ve failed you all in this regard. A few days ago, through circumstances beyond my control…things…changed for me.” Adrianna flashed Andrew a knowing smile. “As a result, I’ve gathered you all here today to beg your forgiveness, and to come clean with anything you might wish to know. I can’t force you to trust me, and I know it will take time. In the mean time, I offer you this…” With that, Wheeler turned and pulled on a guide rope, causing the tarp to be drawn off of the Mad Cat, and revealing it to the assembled crowd. The mech almost sparkled in the light from the mechbay, showing off the armor patches Wheeler had made, as well as the home made right arm pod housing a single ERPPC. Turning once more to face the crowd, Andrew rubbed his hands together reflexively. “So…uh….thoughts?”

Thom let out a long low whistle upon laying eyes upon the MadCat. Whereas he knew all along of it's presence in the mech bay, seeing the beast with his own eyes was something entirely different. The war machine was a thing of beauty, despite it's 'shoddy' repair work. He had nothing to add otherwise, feeling that it should be Doc that would answer the hail of questions he was about to receive from the (jealous?) mechwarriors. Instead he moved closer to get a better look.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 08 July 2013 - 12:48 AM.

[Spokes]

Mech Bay 1
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
3 March, 3061 -- 11:30 Hrs

Oh, okay, so things changed for you? That's good, because otherwise this would be really weird. . .

Ballcap kept right on talking. . .forgiveness, trust, all the usual touchstones. It was a good speech, but it left Li wondering what she had missed.

What the hell did Cees say to you that day in the mess hall?

The man turned and grabbed at a nearby rope like it was a lifeline. Someone let out a low whistle as the tarp came away, exposing the OmniMech underneath.

"Huh."

BattleMechs are the end results of hundreds of people, and years, sometimes decades of toil. They are also generally the products of companies looking to profit by selling them to governments that all too often don't understand or even care about the technical details. So those companies employ teams of people that focus exclusively on aesthetics, carefully reshaping "functional" so that it looked good on everything from campaign flyers to Solaris fight cards. Elected or otherwise, no politician wanted to get caught spending tax money on an ugly 'Mech.

The children of Kerensky had clearly given little consideration to such things-- where Thom's Marauder had been deliberately sculpted to give off an aura of grace and power, the boxy lines and funny angles of the Mad Cat said nothing more than "generic weapons platform". A very dangerous weapons platform, to be sure, but immobilized as it was in the bay cubicle the machine somehow failed to live up to its scary reputation.

Li thought it looked like a giant chicken.

Still, there were signs the 'Mech might one day be more than a soulless, walking power tool. Li ran a practiced eye over the replacement armor plating-- not quite professionally done, but the welds were smooth and clean, the patchwork flush with the original hull. Someone had put a lot of love into the metalwork on the right vambrace, and the racy nose art too. If nothing else, it was a good start.

“So. . .uh. . .thoughts?”

Li brought her attention back to Wheeler, and caught herself frowning. Something was wrong here. The man was obviously nervous, but he certainly wouldn't be the first Mechwarrior to get a case of the shakes from speaking in front of a crowd. Still, something was off. . .

Wheeler was looking to each person in turn, looking, begging for. . .what? Validation? Praise? For someone with stage fright, he certainly wasn't shying away from his audience. What, then?

The man turned to her and Li could see just a hint of panic trapped in his eyes, the need to focus warring with the need to escape. . .

. . ."Dammit Kit, hold her steady!" Her father's eyes burned up at her through the helmet on his vac suit, reproduced in high resolution by the Scorpion's ventral cameras, his words close in her ear and slightly out of sync as they came over the radio. Bodies convulsed all around him, running, falling, one woman pulling frantically at him. Bodies in agony, in mortal terror. . .

Bodies without pressure suits.

Her father kept speaking, but the tight control in his voice did not extend to his eyes. Help me!, his eyes flashed, as the woman in his arms started frothing blood from her eyes and ears. Do something!. . .

Li blinked at the sudden memory, swallowed hard, had to look away. Where the hell did that come from?

[The Shepherd]

Mech Bay 1
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
3 March, 11:31 Hrs

Cees stood with folded arms, listening to Wheeler practically stutter through his speech come apology.

You know what’s coming, remain calm. It’s just a machine.
Thom had wearily divulged the truth behind the mysterious cargo two days before. It’d taken some doing in fact. It was surprising how well Thom conveniently managed to find other things more pressing than being cornered into talking to him. Even when he’d gotten close, he’d mutter something in Russian and slip away. He was probably lucky that Cees didn’t speak the language, nor could he be bothered looking what he’d said up after the fact.
In an uncharacteristic flair of humanity, he hadn’t torn into the man for not telling him about the Mad Cat from the get go. The presence of a Clan mech on board had been too much, too quickly for him to deal with and react to. Once Thom had recovered from wincing away from the predicted onslaught, he’d probably realised as much and seemed to be treating him with even more of his usual good humor.

The two had parted, and he’d spent almost a solid day in his quarters processing.

Even now though, as the tarp fell away, he couldn't help but involuntarily stiffen.

On first appearance, the engineering marvel’s distinctive silhouette stood as a monument to the deadly efficiency of the Clan war machine. A few more moments passed and Cees began to relax as he drank in the implications of the key details of the mech. One of the arms had been all but completely replaced. Armour panels across the torso had been patched.
The evidence of being beaten made it a shadow of the menace Cees had painted in his mind.

A whole day’s worth of self assessment and contemplation of facing this resounding symbol of Clan might dropped away in an instant. Seeing something the Clans foisted so proudly in the mech bay of this rag tag merc group, and being shown off by this perfectly normal, nervous man, an antithesis of Clan superiority, made him feel... happy.

He glanced around at Thom as he whistled, and then at Li as she gave the single-syllable synopsis of how everyone assembled was most likely feeling.
Switching folded arms to hands planted on hips in the visage of being impressed, he smiled at Andrew.

Oh hell, how does this work? How do I tell him that I’m pleased with him?

“I must say Mr Wheeler, I’m impressed. Anyone capable of taking down a Mad Cat is alright by me. And your honesty is certainly a good start.”

There, that should work... though he might find something suspicious if I’m ‘too nice’.

“Though you do realise this will make upkeep and maintenance a nightmare. We’ll have to see what we can do with finding adequate spares on Coventry.”

No, that’s still too conciliatory.

“And it’ll be your responsibility to procure them.”

Yes. Good.

[Spokes]

Mech Bay 1
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
3 March, 3061 -- 11:31 Hrs

Li stepped on the memory hard, forcing it back to the recesses of her mind. That was twenty years ago, and not a damned thing you could do about it, then or now. No one wins them all.

Thankfully, it didn't look like anyone had noticed her momentary lapse, what with the 'Mech and Wheeler. . .and now Cees? Half step forward, arms akimbo, body turned just the right way to appear focused on the OmniMech while at the same time drawing the eyes of everyone around him. Chalk really knew how to work a crowd. . .now that was interesting. . .

“I must say Mr Wheeler, I’m impressed. Anyone capable of taking down a Mad Cat is alright by me. And your honesty is certainly a good start.”

Is that it then? She looked back over at Wheeler, his attention in turn focused on Cees. Is that Mad Cat a battle prize? Did it take something from you in kind?

“Though you do realise this will make upkeep and maintenance a nightmare. We’ll have to see what we can do with finding adequate spares on Coventry.”

Li edged a little closer to the OmniMech, eyes moving over the various access panels and ports. Is that. . .Clan tech armor plate? Ouch.

“And it’ll be your responsibility to procure them.”

Li cleared her throat, a quick, polite sound that nevertheless carried through the bay. "Don't fret too much, Mr. Wheeler. The Terror's are picking up the maintenance costs according to the contract, so if we can find what we need on Coventry, we should be all set."

She shrugged, projected just the right amount of disinterest, graced Cees with a pleasant smile. "Who knows, we might even be able to find some spares for that too." Li gestured in the direction of the gunmetal plated BattleMech sitting between the Marauder and the Mad Cat. She looked around at the others.

"Does anyone happen to know what that thing is? I've never seen one before."

[The Shepherd]

Mech Bay 1
Union Class Dropship Achilles Pride
Deep Space, Lyran Alliance
3 March, 3061 -- 11:31 Hrs

Cees graced Li with an impish smirk and raised eyebrow.

“That,” he stated proudly, “is an Uziel. Designation UZL-2S. I received one of the last prototype models second hand after it was shipped to the Wolf’s Dragoons direct from Furillo. That particular configuration is slated for general production soon. It’s designed to out run, jump and punch any medium and fire support mech the Sphere currently produces.”
Looking around the other assembled warriors, he still seemed outwardly positive. Holding their attention he bit back a bitter edge to his tone, “And I can personally verify that it’s an efficient clan-hunter. Twin PPC volleys and follow-up SRMs can swat down any lighter clan mech.”

Turning back to Li, he emulated her casually disinterested expression, “as for spares, I had a stockpile of experimental parts shipped to CMW as part of a cutting edge IP trade with Defiance,” he chuckled, “As you could imagine, the techs on Coventry didn’t like DI building something heavier -and- faster than any of their mediums.”
Yes, just enough of an over-play to let her know I’m wise to her observations... First Adrianna, now her? These women are very sharp. Though I suppose a quad scout pilot would need to be...

“And yes, Mr Wheeler, I apologise. I should have clarified. We’ll certainly foot the bill. I meant that finding the parts in the first place would be your responsibility,” he gave another of his best attempts at a genuine smile to the slightly less nervous man, “though given your... admirable work in repairing ... it to combat readiness, I’m sure that won’t be too difficult, now will it?”

Edited by The Shepherd, 14 July 2013 - 10:45 PM.