55 replies to this topic

[Escef]

Ok, a bit quickly written, so hopefully it's up to snuff. If another of these contests gets done I hope it's better publicized, I didn't know about i until about 5 hours ago.

"Something to Talk About"

Spoiler

Nora had taken it on herself to deal with the twin-PPC sniper hiding in a stand of trees atop one of the lower canyon walls. Great Spirit seemed to whisper to her that it was what she needed to do, and Nora BlackElk trusted Great Spirit. She was expecting a Warhammer or a Marauder, something she felt she could take in her Grasshopper. The trees obscured the target from her sensors well enough that she could only get a size estimate, she figured it was a high-end heavy. At first the humanoid form made her discard her guess of Marauder and figured the mech for a Warhammer, perhaps the 6K model the Dracs favored. The bone white samurai with black and gold kanji written all over shocked her, and her second of hesitation earned her a PPC blast and a flight of short range missiles. Most of it caught her mech's right leg. She had cut hard to her left at that point, trying to lead this unknown mech further from the rest of her lance. She threw everything she had at him and he took it like it was rain. She had jetted down the other side of the rise, but he tagged her right leg again with a blast from his other PPC, frying half the control cables and myomer bundles running down her mech's calf. She barely had time enough to adjust her flight to compensate for the loss; she kept the mech upright, but slammed the right shoulder into the canyon wall hard. As she limped her mech away, the large Drac mech rushed down a steep embankment and followed. She had done too good a job getting his attention.

Nora's mech limped along a straightaway in the canyon at an agonizingly slow pace, barely breaking 50kph. “I need a hand Reggie,” Nora tried to remain calm, but desperation crept into her voice. “I have a leg actuator out, he got a lucky shot.”

“On my way, just keep him busy, Leftenant,” the EM interference from a PPC bolt that came dangerously close to Nora's cockpit added so much static that Reggie's reply was almost unintelligible. Nora limped her battered Grasshopper around a bend in the canyon. The sharp turn would buy her maybe 10 seconds, 15 if she was lucky. She pushed her machine as fast as it would go, fired her jump jets to clear an 8-meter high pile of boulders and hoped the damaged actuator wouldn't topple her when she landed.

It was a clumsy landing, the damaged right leg slid out far to the side. Nora quickly tapped a control stud on her right glove with her thumb and threw her arms out as wide and low as the cramped cockpit would allow. Her Grasshopper's arms swung out wide and the machine's palms slammed the ground. The tripod of her mechs arms and its good leg kept it from tumbling over, and may have saved her from completing the job the Drac had started on her mech's leg. Nora made a pushing motion, quickly tapped the control stud again, and returned her hands to her throttle and control stick. The mech righted itself, and as her cockpit rose above the top of the rock pile she was greeted with a shower of stone shards and electrical arcs. Nora ignored it, checked her tactical display, and made a fast visual scan of her surroundings. She had landed in a sort of T-intersection. A river flowed from a canyon on her left and wound down another to the right, her attacker behind her. She stumbled her mech up-river, glancing to her pursuer and throwing a salvo of LRMs his way in defiance as she left him behind.

The mineral content of the stone walls raised hell with her sensors, and as the mech limped along the reading on her attacker grew intermittent. “Do you have an ETA for me, Subaltern?”

“30 seconds, Leftenant.”

“I need you here NOW, Fox.” Nora glanced ahead and noted the river canyon took a turn to her right. She pushed her machine as fast as she could to the bend, cut her legs to make the turn, but stopped. She twisted her mech's upper body hard to the side, and angled her cross-hairs to where she expected the samurai to make his appearance. “I can't outrun him with with a blown actuator.”

“25, Nora. Do you really need a countdown?” Nora never found it reassuring when there was levity in Reggie's voice. It almost always meant trouble... As if she already didn't have enough. The samurai rounded the corner and got a chestful of green and blue beams as Nora triggered all her lasers. This time armor plates on his chest sizzled and popped, shards of metal rained down. There was an ugly black scar running across the missile launcher on the left side of the samurai's chest, and a swiftly congealing rivulet of metal seemed to weep from it.

Nora didn't have time savor the damage she had inflicted. She throttled up and turned her machine's right shoulder to her enemy as she limped along. Her mech's heat had spiked dangerously, and though she knew the warnings of imminent shutdown would stop in a second as her mech's massive cooling system dealt with the waste heat, it didn't sop up the sweat running down her bare arms and legs. And though her cooling vest kept her body's own temperature low enough to remain conscious, the inside of her neurohelmet made her feel like her head was trapped in a sauna.

Nora desperately hoped the damage she had inflicted upon the samurai would give him pause. She glanced around hoping to find a spot where the canyon walls dipped low enough for her mech to clear with its jump jets, and found nothing. This stretch of canyon was more or less straight for several hundred meters, with no significant outcroppings to take cover behind. Nora cursed under her breath and triggered her jump jets.

She had hoped to ride her momentum as far forward as she could while turning around mid-air so she could face the samurai. It didn't work out that way. Twin particle cannon blasts caught her mech's back just as it rose from the ground. The machine lurched forward in the air, a bone-jarring metallic screech echoed off the canyon walls and in Nora's head. Tilt sensors and warning lights flashed around her cockpit like festive lights, celebrating her gyro's death. Seventy tons of death machine crashed to the ground, the ferroglass cockpit window crumpled away in shards and the right leg below the knee was sheered off completely by the impact. Nora was thrown violently against her restraints, and the forceful jarring of her head nearly caused her to black out.

In a daze, Nora looked around. Her mech was face down, the right shoulder appeared to be propped up on something, she wasn't sure what. Her arms and legs hung limply in the air below her, her restraining harness kept the rest of her firmly in the command chair. A river ran past her cockpit, perhaps 4 or 5 meters away. Small scrub bushes clung to it's banks, and yellow and purple flowers poked out from the ground here and there. “Almost there, Leftenant,” a voice echoed in her head. It was Reggie. She remembered Reggie. She was third year at Robinson when he transferred in as a second year cadet. People said he got booted out of Sakhara. He was an obnoxious little punk. But as sharp as his tongue was, his eyes and mind were doubly so. Punk never would have lasted a month without her, though. “Leftenant BlackElk, do you copy?” Nora smirked. Lazy punk, too smart for his own good. He was the one that had to copy off of her notes. “Nora? Nora respond!”

Nora was dimly aware of vibrations, mech footfalls. The edge of massive, bone-white metal feet were on the far bank of the river. A Charger? Those hunks of junk? Nora tapped the control stud on her hand again, and slowly shifted her arms around, her mech scraping against the ground as she angled it up. The haze in her eyes actually made the resemblance clearer. “Heh, stupid Charger.” Nora watched as the samurai leveled his particle cannons at her cockpit. Her clearing mind realizing in sudden panic that she was bout to die. “If it is your will I die today, Great Spirit, so be it. But I will die a warrior,” Nora made to raise her mech's right arm. A single medium laser may not be much, but it was something.

The samurai kicked her Grasshopper's arm aside. Another warning light flashed as her laser was crushed in the impact. There was a crackling sound as the external speakers on the samurai came to life. “Shee-nay, Davion.” Nora didn't know much Japanese, but she knew enough to know she was about to die.

There was a sudden blur of movement accompanied by a massive crashing of metal on metal, and the samurai toppled backwards as a red and black Enforcer hit the ground between them. The Enforcer did a quarter roll onto its side as it came to a stop. The samurai was motionless. “What the...?” Nora hit the quick release on her harness and dropped to the ground. She tore off her neurohelmet and it's accompanying shoulder pads and tossed it aside. It was Reggie's Enforcer. She half ran, half stumbled towards the Enforcer's cockpit. “Little Brother!” She joyously shouted the nickname she had given him back in their academy days. “Little Brother, I've never been so happy to see...” She stopped as she came around the mech's head. A small boulder had smashed into the cockpit when it initially hit the ground, and had pulped Reggie's chest when it bounced around as the mech rolled to a stop. “...you.” Nora finished in a whisper. “no.”

“NO!” she shouted. “NO!” she shouted again, this time to the sky. “This is wrong! You lived! You lived, dammit!” Tears ran down her face. “You lived, you smug son of a...” She heard the samurai rising behind her. She whirled around to face it. In terror. In rage. In confusion. She faced it. “And you died!” She pulled her auto-pistol and started putting round after round into the samurai's cockpit. The bullets bounced off the mech's cockpit armor harmlessly. “You died! You died!” The samurai bent over and picked her up in its right hand, squeezing her painfully. It rose and held her up to cockpit level. “You died! You died!” she screamed, weeping like a child. “No, gai-jin. This time you die.”

Nora awoke covered in cold seat, breathing heavily. Tears still streaming down her face. Still shaking, she clumsily clamored out of bed, dressed only in one of her old Robinson Academy t-shirts and her most comfortable cotton panties. Her dark hair hung halfway down her back, a tangled mess, the strands near her forehead plastered to her face with sweat. She stumbled almost drunkenly, and leaned heavily against one of the walls of her small quarters. She pushed against the wall, braced her left forearm across it, and leaned her forehead against her arm. She winced her eyes shut and punched the wall with her free hand. It hurt. She punched it again. And again. And again. Until her knuckles started to bleed.

An hour later she was in the gym, leaning downward against an inclined bench and slowly pulling 15 kilo weights to her chest, then slowly lowering them. Nora liked to bow-hunt, and the exercise kept her drawing arm and back in good shape. And it was better than losing herself in a bottle of firewater. She stopped mid-rep as a three-legged stool, probably made from local wood, was plunked down next to her. She relaxed her arms and watched a thinly built, red-headed man dressed in street clothes veritably throw his butt onto the stool.

“It's two in the morning, Nora,” He sounded tired.

“I know what time it is,” Nora was slightly annoyed, but after having “The Nightmare” again she was also happier to see Reggie than she wanted to admit. “What are you doing here, Leftenant?”

“Oh, no you don't, Nora. I'm not here as Leftenant Fox, and I'm not here to see Captain BlackElk.”

“I can put you on weekend duty right now if you want. Now is not a good time.”

“I know some guys in the MP's, they let me know you were here.”

Nora got up and carried her weights back to the rack. “It's not your business, Reggie.”

“Hey, remember when some of us got detached to help the 1^st NAIS? All those jokes about how those inferno infantry gave my mech a hot foot?”

Nora racked the weights, and looked over her shoulder with a small grin. “Yeah. Six years ago, Reggie, story's not that funny anymore.”

Reggie stood up, but seemed to stare at the floor. “I panicked. I started shooting wildly. My Enforcer overheated and shut down. When it did, it toppled over. All I could see was fire. And that cockpit was hot. The napalm oozed off the canopy just in time for me to see infantry with satchel charges running up to me, and my mech was still shut down.”

“You never told me this before, Reggie.” Nora was a little confused.

“Story was never all that funny for me,” Reggie smiled wistfully. He took a small bottle of pills, mostly empty, out of his pocket. “The docs gave me these a long while back. Some story about 'traumatic stress' and how they block neurotransmitters or some malarkey. I don't like them, they make my head a little fuzzy. But every now and again they take the edge off.” He put them down on the stool and started to walk away. “I wager I'm not the only one that has nightmares about '39, Nora. I'm around if you need to talk to someone.”

“I know. Thank you, Little Brother.”

Edited by Escef, 25 July 2015 - 01:16 AM.

[Peiper]

Smoke Jaguar and the Cherry Tree

By: Peiper
Edited by: Teuf and Woofler

Edo, Turtle Bay
Clan Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone
May 3050

Kita Masaru coughed into the towel again, the towel that tasted like his breath for he'd been breathing through it for much too long. Another explosion shook the rafters above again. A spider fell and landed on the battery lantern he was huddled next to, along with his cat, who he had to put in a bag to keep from scratching him to shreds while he tried to keep it protected. The bombardment had gone for at least an hour, maybe four. It was hard to tell, his ears were ringing and his ears had popped too many times from nearby explosions that sucked out all the air in his basement through the shattered windows. Jars of preserved fruit were smashed and scattered on the floor, soaking his kimono, but he dared not move from old hardwood desk he was hiding under. It might just be the difference between getting crushed by his ceiling or survival.

* * *

At least an hour ago, the holovids were broadcasting news that the yakuza had hurt the Smoke Jaguars enough to drive them from the city. He was so happy he pulled out the bottle of saké he'd hidden away for just some sort of meaningful celebration. He'd just started heating it on the stove when the first of the bombardments hit. At first he thought it was fireworks and went to the window to get a glimpse. But the thumps and booms kept getting bigger, shaking the earth and he knew it was war. He moved to the other side of the house where the noise was louder and looked out only to see meteors falling from the sky. He couldn't see over the rooftops where they were hitting, but he could feel it, and saw smoke rising.

It was no meteor shower, at least, nothing natural. And it was getting closer.

He walked over to the stove and shut off the heating pads. His walk away from the window saved his life, as the window blasted out, sending shards of glass across the room. He felt like he'd just hit the water from a bad high dive, only the water came and hit him all over, slapping him to the ground. He landed hard and fell unconscious for some time. When he came too, the ceaseless rumble of a dying city, and muffled screams from somewhere down the block brought him back to the present. His cat was cowered under the rolling cabinet watching him. Feeling his body, and testing his old limbs, he found he had not been as liquefied by the blast wave as he had felt. Smoke was thick in the air, coming in from the shattered windows. He grabbed the hand towel from the sink and used it as a filter, and still low to the ground, scooped out his cat from underneath the rolling cabinet. The cat protested, but he ignored it and he made a dash for the basement door. Opening the door, he pushed the cat through and tried the light switch. No dice.

Masaru closed the door to keep the cat downstairs and thought: what do I need? A pillow and blanket? A gun? Pillows and blankets were upstairs, where the smoke was thicker and he had no gun. He quickly opened the fridge and pulled out three bottles of water. A series of explosions started walking closer again, vibrating the glasses off the top of the cabinet so that two of them came crashing down around his feet. That was enough! He bolted for the basement door grabbing a cloth shopping bag on the way.

His cat, Junko, was at the top of the stairs trying to make a break and he had to move quickly, reaching down, he grabbed it and put it in the bag. Damned cat might be right, but he didn't care. Searching for the best chance to survive if the house collapsed, Masaru pulled the boxes out from under an old hardwood desk. Sitting atop was a battery operated lantern and he grabbed it and crawled underneath. Turning on the lantern, he held his bagged cat to his chest, and used the towel as a pillow. He wondered if he was holding the cat to comfort himself or simply to protect her as he told himself. Maybe the cat would have a better chance finding it's own hiding place or running around outside. However, having the living, breathing cat close to him kept him from losing his wits. Over the next few minutes the bombardments rattled large jars of preserves, knocking them off the shelves, and sending their juices across the floor. Curled up like an infant under the desk, the side of his kimono slowly getting soaked through with juices, he held his protesting cat held firmly in his arms and shook in fear and shock. Smoke and dust seeped into the room and he had to resort to breathing through the kitchen towel.

This went on for hours, for so long, that he gave up trying to think a complete thought. He was just staring in shock at the far wall where a steamer trunk lie. The steamer trunk carried with it photographs, holographs, paintings, data disks, and documents. Several hundred years of family history going back to ancient Japan on Terra. As he stared at the trunk, thinking of the generations, he began to recite the names of every ancestor he could think of. First, starting with his grandchildren and going back five generations. He remembered reading stories of the family's migrations from planet to planet, and the simple but significant contributions his great-great-great grandfather made in genetically engineering the cherry trees on Turtle Bay to resist the local bugs. The first cherry blossoms to bloom outside on the surface of the planet belonged to his family. They were called Kita Cherry Trees in honor of his family and the symbol of Edo, where they were first cultivated. Inside of the steamer trunk were several dozen original seeds of the plant. Each first born of the Kita line was honored by having a cherry tree planted on the day he or she was born. The one planted when he was born was still in his backyard, old, but strong. He'd made many pies from the cherries that grew on the tree and given them away to his neighbors. Many of his neighbors had planted Kito Cherry Trees in their yards as well, and for a day each spring, when the flower petals fell, no motor vehicles were allowed on the street. It was that way so everyone could sit in the quiet and watch the leaves fall.

Today, it was bombs that fell. The crashed into the trees, the houses, the hover cars, swing sets, pagodas, cemeteries, businesses, everywhere. Nothing was untouched.

Masaru thought of his late wife and the times they spent traveling the planet and visiting all of the foot bridges they could find. They'd visited hundreds of footbridges together, and had hundreds of photographs to prove it.

His three children, all girls, went on to college. One became an engineer, one a nurse, and one a gardener who still lived here in Edo, he prayed. Those three women gave him seven grandchildren, two of which he saw regularly and showered upon them the spoils he couldn't afford to give his children. One of them had carried on his mother's green thumb, and cultivated prize flowers that had won her awards throughout Turtle Bay. He prayed for each and every one of them.

His old body finally succumbed to the poor air and he fell asleep.

* * *

He woke to hear the sound of a loudspeaker outside. “Anyone alive, please come out! If you can't, scream or bang on a pot. Make noise!” The sound was getting closer. Masaru crawled out from under the desk and stretched his weary muscles. Junko was meowing somewhere and the battery lamp had ran out of power. A dim light shone through the windows, giving him enough light to move around.

He was uninjured, but sticky with fruit juice and feeling disgusting. The smell of burning wood, plastic and corpses wafted in through the window, but it was almost better than the towel he'd been breathing through for hours. Starting up the stairs, he hacked for a minute, trying to clear his lungs. At the top of the stairs, his cat waited.

“I'm sorry about this Junko.” he said quietly and quickly scooped up the cat and threw her back into the cloth sack. Opening the basement door, he found that one of the walls had been completely blasted away from his house and he was staring through the open space at a city shattered by ordanance and blackened by flame. Everywhere oily smoke competed with the sun for dominance of the sky. A tracked city utility vehicle was crunching its way down the street and the speaker on top blasted out the message. “Anyone out there alive? Please come out or make some loud noise so we can find you!”

A small crowd of people were walking along behind the truck, one of them a woman. She was walking toward his house. His granddaughter, Akemi! He saw her carefully thread her way through the destruction toward what was left of his house. Tears welled up and cut streaks in his ash covered face.

“Over here! My grandfather! He's alive!”

Three people split off from the small crowd and came over to his house while his granddaughter ran up and embraced his sooty, sticky, wet kimono. He was a little embarrassed of his appearance and that he would get her filthy, but the embrace meant so much more than decorum. She fussed over him a minute to see if he was okay, and took the bag with Junko squirming inside. They hugged twice more before one of the others behind her cleared his throat.

A man in a police officer's uniform politely but firmly stated, “Excuse me, old man, but we must keep moving. Pick one thing to bring with you, and we will take you to a safer place.”

Masaru didn't even have to think about it. “It is good that you are a strong man, then, sir!” With that statement he headed back downstairs with the police officer in tow.

They struggled together to get the steamer trunk up the stairs.

“What is in here, old man?”

“Cherry Tree seeds.”

“This is a lot of seeds!”

“We need seeds to make new life, and give purpose to old lives like mine. I am an old man, so I will not see the city be reborn, but you will, and in that city, at the center, will be a cherry tree. From that tree will spring hundreds more, and you will live to see them grow. The trees will be here long after the Smoke Jaguar are no more, and with the trees will stand the Japanese people! Do you know why?” He didn't wait for an answer. “You see, the Smoke Jaguar only knows how to take life away. We Japanese know how to create it! You will live to see this is true.”

With the rescue of Kita Masaru, the reconstruction of Edo began.

Edited by Peiper, 25 July 2015 - 08:33 AM.

[CyclonerM]

I would have liked to write a battle story for this contest, but i discovered it too late and i can only take something i already wrote..
Title: "There is always a first time"

A chapter taken from my WiP book "The Eagle and the Wolf"

Mind that i am not a native english speaker so please forgive blatant and horrible grammar or language mistakes

Spoiler

December 20, 3048
Legion Training Academy, Training Area A1, Andurien, Free Worlds League
Despite being a pretty warm planet, the Academy was located in the northern part of the continent of Altay, where the capital city was located. Far enough from the equatorial line, the temperatures could reach 0 °C in the coldest nights, and the night before was just one of them.
No way Matt would go back to the warm bed of his room. Today it was the day – the first day of their BattleMech training. Andurien’s G0V star was burning high in the sky, flooding the shining Chameleon 50-tons medium ‘Mech with intense light, from the elegant humanoid legs to the orange reflective ferroglass of the big and roomy cockpit, to the impressive Large Laser that made its right arm.
It looked much better than in the simulator, of course.
“Well, it’s not the most beautiful or threatening BattleMech, but it’s still a ‘Mech!”
And all those hours in the simulator or, much worse, in the conference room, studying the physics of the ‘Mech’s handling and combat capabilities, the cockpit’s instruments, the weapons’ operations had finally led him to the last step.. Or rather, the first step of his dream coming true.
Piloting a true BattleMech, the machine of war that had become the pinnacle of warfare centuries ago.
The other 19 cadets were as excited as he was. Some were understandably nervous, while others disguised their true feelings behind arrogant words.
“Well, let’s go on with this, kids, shall we?” The Stan Komisky Matt knew was back.
Four Chameleons were lined up in the field. A Lance of BattleMechs.
The cockpit’s hatch of the first ‘Mech suddenly opened. A rope ladder came out of it, followed by a tall man in a typical MechWarrior’s dress: boots, shorts, and a Dragoon shirt under his cooling vest.
He climbed down quickly and jumped on the ground. His thin, pale lips, moved to form a slight smile as he nodded to Komisky, greeting him with a quick “It is fine and ready”. As soon as he turned towards the cadets, his face returned completely serious and his expression cold, almost as cold as his blue eyes.
The chatter had died down.
He spoke to them for the first time: “I am Lieutenant Asher. Asher Radick. For you, I am just ‘sir’ , quiaff? “
The assembled cadets did not reply at first. The most well-versed in history knew that surname had not been heard in the Inner Sphere for centuries. Others were just unsure about what to say. Matt and some others just said “yes sir!”, but it came out from their throats less sure and loud than they wanted.
Without wasting further time, the tall man proceeded to explain the first exercise. Standard handling practice. At turns, the cadets sat in the ‘Mechs’ cockpits and, after taking some minutes to power them up and feel sure , they ran trough the course. Most had little trouble. A young cadet, more nervous than the others, made his ‘Mech almost fall face-forward, but he regained control just soon enough to keep walking forward.
Matt’s turn came at about 4:30 PM.
He took a breath, and started climbing the ladder of the second ‘Mech in the row. They could have parked them a bit better” he thought. As if he were Jaime Wolf.. Or Natasha Kerensky herself. He chuckled at that thought. When he finally reached the cockpit, he immediately felt a wave of heat that made him already sweat. Normally, he would found his cooling vest in a box behind the command chair, but the cadet who piloted the ‘Mech before him had left it on the console. Matt picked it up, forcing himself to remember all the instructions he had been given. After wearing it, he plugged the power cable into the command console. The cold coolant fluid started circulating trought the tubes within the vest, giving him chills. You will likethat cold when the fight starts, Kominsky told him earlier.After that, he took the big neurohelmet from the shelf above the console, observing it for a few seconds. It wasn’t the old model used thorough the Succession Wars, which was very heavy and rested on the MechWarriors’ shoulders, limiting his head movement. It was more compact and lighter.
A Star League helmet. I wonder where they took it from..
But it was no news to anyone that the Dragoons had Star League technology and long-forgotten ‘Mechs, thought extinct in the Inner Sphere.
Matt carefully put it on. Nothing changed.
Then, he initiated the procedure to power up the ‘Mech, toggling a red switch. Obviously, no codeword or scan was necessary. A rising hum and Bitching Betty’s voice telling him “Reactor online” announced the heavy fusion engine powering the machine was alive.
His clear view of the command console and the landscape he could see trough the viewport were substituted with a 360° field of view compressed in 160° , with firing arcs for all the Chameleon’s weapons clearly shown.
Ok, next step. Another switch. “Weapons online”.
A projected HUD gave him all the necessary info its weapons’ reload times and basic targeting info.
The third switch.
“Sensors online”.
The HUD now showed him the status of his ‘Mech, its speed and its heat and jumpjets fuel level.
“All systems nominal. Welcome aboard, cadet.”
He felt a bit overwhelmed at first, but all of his training kicked in and he started digesting all that info.
He could feel the balance of his ‘Mech trough the neurohelmet. He felt he and the Chameleon were a single entity.
He felt powerful.
He started smiling.
A sudden, deep and severe voice came trough the neurohelmet.
“Are you getting confortable, cadets? Now, listen to me. I will be Wolf 1, and you will be Pup 1, 2 and 3. You should not have a hard time figuring out who is who.Your weapons are powered up, but a safety lock is in place to prevent you from damaging something. Those lasers are not toys.
When you are all ready, follow me trough the course.”
Twisting his torso to track Wolf 1, Matt slowly pushed forward the throttle as soon as he saw him moving, up to a very slow walk.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Excitement was fighting with Matt’s resolution to keep a cool head.
The latter won.
Wolf 1 led the four Chameleons trough a circuit marked with red lights.
Matt managed to stay mostly within its boundaries, aside from a time when a sharp turn was almost making him leave it; a strong push on the left pedal made the agile ‘Mech turn and stay within the designed area.
The ‘Mech’s slow movement caused the myomer bundles that formed its artificial muscles to produce only a small heat build up; the sweat on Matt’s forehead was caused by the tension.
After walking past the circuit, they reached a second circuit, disseminated with obstacles of different shapes: destroyed tanks, buildings, and ‘Mechs. Wolf 1 opened comms: “Now, you will have to run trough the circuit without leaving its boundaries and without hitting any obstacle. You will do it one at a time and I will measure your times. If it does not satisfy me, you will do it again. Clear? Go now!”
Matt pushed the throttle forward, this time pushing it to a slow run. “Faster, or you will not be fast enough!”. Matt sighed, and pushed his ‘Mech to a faster speed. Executing sharp turns and playing with the throttle, he managed to run past the last markers. “Phew. That should be fast enough..”
“Not fast enough”.
Teeth grinding showed Matt’s frustration.
“Still, you did a good job. Most fail the first time. We will do it again so many times that you will be bored to death. And you will have more chances to redeem yourself.”

[MeltedSnowgirl]

Here's my entry. Has no real title. Sorry if it seems rather bare bones, but with only 2500 words to work with, my descriptive talents were...limited. It's under the spoiler tag because I was really skirting the line length wise. I write novels for a living so it's difficult for me to prune my baby to bare bones.

Spoiler

Kahlan Raynes scurried in the dark tunnels underneath Zi-jin Cheng on the inner sphere planet of Sian, the main planet of the Capellan Federation of the House Liao.

She had barely managed to escape her masters a week before, and she was hungry. Only twenty years old and she managed to fail the citizenship test not once, but twice, delegating her to a lifetime of servitude, and that didn’t suit her one bit, so she ran away.

Years ago there were urbanmech pilots patrolling the streets and tunnels of the city for when the clans decided to invade Sian. Fortunately they were pushed back before they could reach the Federation home world.
Urbanmechs were the last defense for the capital. They were small, cheaply made mechs, but for some reason, Kahlan loved them.
She knew that they had superior capabilities if just given the chance, and she was going to be the one to do it.
When she was a child she played in the tunnels. She knew them like the back of her hand and she knew there was an abandoned urbanmech down here.

Kahlan scrambled over the detritus from the city that lined the tunnels. Other escaped servitors hid out down here, giving her suspicious looks as she jogged past. Most of the time, servitors that escaped lived in poverty. Kahlan refused to fall into that trap. She was going to go out and become a mercenary pilot.
After navigating the twisting and turning tunnels for an hour or more, she finally found what she came here for. Towering above her was a rusted out Urbanmech. Its cockpit was dark, two lines of rust dripped down from the windscreen creating what looked like tears.

The autocannon was hanging at an odd angle, and the lens on the small laser was non-existent. Somebody must have removed it for parts.

She remembered that it would cost millions of credits to repair the poor thing if she went and tried to buy new parts, but she lived in the biggest junk yard in the city. There were parts of decaying urbanmechs everywhere. It wouldn’t be too difficult to piece this baby back together and earn her place as a mercenary.
She had no desire to learn poetry or any of the finer arts that the women of the planet were encouraged to participate in. Her father was head mechanic for the pilots of House Liao. She spent her entire childhood inside mechs, learning the inside and out of every individual chassis.

She looked up at the empty shell of the urbanmech and realized that the biggest challenge would be the reactor. If this one’s reactor was still operational, everything else could be easily repaired and reprogrammed.
Kahlan located the ladder on one of the urbanmech’s pillar like legs and scrambled up it. She opened the reactor’s maintenance hatch and peered in. Inside there were three levers and they were pulled up. The manual failsafe was engaged, meaning the old reactor could still be operational. Kahlan was elated. She pushed each lever down in sequence, and a deep orange glow emerged from the heart of the Urbanmech.

She let out a whoop of triumph as the heat of the reactor washed over her. Sure it wasn’t healthy to be exposed to the radiation this close, the biggest hurdle has been overcome.

Kahlan closed the hatch and scrambled further up the ladder into the cockpit.
The chair was ripped out. The neuro-helmet was still in place at least, she noted, which was a good thing. Those things were a ***** to wire back in. She flicked the red switch up and the console lit up.
The voice of the onboard navigation and targeting computer was garbled through the destroyed speakers but it seemed to need minimal work. Whether or not it would require reprogramming would have to wait.
She powered down the Urbanmech and scurried down the ladder. She knew she had to figure out how to get that big autocannon repositioned properly with no help. The lens for the small laser would be easy enough to place on her own.
She walked around the tunnels for a little bit, searching for the parts she required. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an old man rummaging through the trash.

“Excuse me? Do you remember where the mech graveyard is? It’s been so long since I’ve been down here.” Kahlan asked the man.

The old man startled and hit his head on the lid of the large garbage dumpster. “You talking to me? Why yes, you must be, there isn’t anyone else around.” He said absently.
The old man was dressed in rags he had found lying around. He had an unwashed odour about him as he made his way closer to the young woman.

Kahlan shifted nervously as the elderly man crept closer. “I know where the mech graveyard is. I also know how to fix that urban mech that’s further down the tunnels. You want to escape, yes? We all do.” The old man hissed as he rubbed his grubby hands together. “You look familiar.” He said giving Kahlan a knowing look.

“My father was head mechanic for the house Liao. He repaired…”

“AH yes!” the old man crowed. “I was his mentor. You must be little Kahlan. Failed your citizenship test I see. Oh well, not everyone can handle the requirements.”

“Master Li?” Kahlan asked incredulously. “Why are you here?”

“Oh knew too many secrets, refused to shut up. The house wanted me dead. I ran. Couldn’t get off world. But you, you can get off world with my help. Take this info to Rasalhague.” He said as he pressed a small memory card into Kahlan’s palm.
Kahlan placed the memory card in her bra and smiled at the old man. “Well what are we waiting for? Let’s fix that mech.”

“First…you need a way off before you get the mech fixed. Rasalhague will be here in three days to negotiate with Liao. You need to make sure you are at the drop zone where the honour guard will be dropped off.” The old man said as he hustled down the tunnel with Kahlan in search of parts for the Urbanmech.

“Wait, why aren’t you doing this?”

“I’m too old. Too tired. You’re young and healthy enough to get this walking trash can off the planet and make something of yourself.” Li said as he picked up a large convex piece of glass. “Ah here we go, one part down, many more to go.”

“At least the reactor still works.” Kahlan said.

“And you have me to thank for it. I’ve been puttering around on that baby for months hoping someone would have the balls to take it off world. Looks like I found my pilot.” Li said with a sly grin.

The duo worked around the clock repairing the Urbanmech with the spare parts they found around the tunnels. Kahlan sat in the seat and placed the neural interface on her head and powered up the mech.

Reactor….online

"Weapons…online

Targeting System…online

All systems…nominal "

the soothing female voice said from the speakers.

Kahlan saw the targeting HUD displayed on the glass visor of the helmet and turned her head, and the urbanmech followed suit. She turned her head to the left and pushed the control stick in the same direction and the entire torso turned a full 360 degrees.

She let out a crow of triumph as she pushed the throttle and the small mech lumbered forward, nearly crushing Li under its thirty tonnes.

“Hey! Watch it!” the old man hollered into the comm device. “Now if you look at your map, you’ll see where the Rasalhague drop ship will be touching down in three hours. You can make your way through the tunnels, and use your jump jets to open the cover near the field where they will be touching down. You only have enough jump fuel for one try to bust out of the tunnel. If you miss it you’re stuck."

“Roger that.” Kahlan said into the comms. She turned the mech around and began to lumber through the wide tunnels underneath the main Commonwealth city.

The further she went, the darker the tunnels became. She turned on the night vision and saw bats flying around the tunnel in an attempt to avoid the lumbering mech. Kahlan examined her map and saw that she was getting close to the extraction point and pushed the little Urbanmech to full throttle.

The urbanmech hurtled down the tunnel at thirty kilometers an hour. For an enclosed space, that was pretty reckless. The marker on her map drew closer and she slowed it down a notch, and then, stopped as she reached her destination.
She sat forward in her pilot seat and looked up through the glass cockpit and saw a faint crack of daylight peeking through the heavy manhole cover. She had an idea. Instead of wasting her jump jet fuel by trying to bust out, she decided to use her small laser to cut the cover from below.

Kahlan reversed her urbanmech a few feet and took aim with the small laser.
Pew….a bright red streak of light illuminated the darkness and struck true. The heavy metal manhole cover glowed orange as the laser cut its way through.

She aimed for the middle and after a minute an orange red line decorated the manhole cover. Globs of molten metal dripped down on the floor of the tunnel as the small laser cut its way through the alloy.

With its structural integrity destroyed, the metallic dome fell inward, clattering to the cement floor.
Kahlan nudged the small mech towards the bright blue circle that graced the top of the dark tunnel and positioned herself directly underneath it. She took a deep breath and gave her jump jets maximum thrust.

The small mech shuddered and groaned as it slowly lifted from the tunnel floor and scraped the edges of the opening she had created. A few startled goats fled the area as the metal monstrosity rose from underneath the earth like an undead zombie.

“Fuel level critical.” The computer announced through the speakers.
“Come on baby, just a few more feet to go.” Kahlan urged the little mech. The feet were barely clear of the opening when she aimed the thrust forward to carry her up and out of the dark, forbidding tunnel.

The urbanmech landed on the soft earth with a thud and Kahlan took a deep breath and released it in a sigh of relief. She looked up into the azure sky and saw a large dropship descending in the distance, about five kilometers from her current position.

She punched the throttle to maximum and the little trashcan surged forward, giving his new master all it could. She had to be at the drop zone before the Rasalhague pilots left. She needed to offer them her services.
Four kilometers to go, and the dropship was rapidly descending. Its bay doors were open and two mechs were ready for launch.

Three kilometers. The heat in her cockpit was unbearable but she couldn’t find any extra heat sinks. Sweat poured off of her, saturating her thin cotton dress, making it translucent.

Two kilometers. The mechs dropped out of their bays and were on their way down to the ground.

One Kilometer. She noticed the two mechs were hunchbacks. She shot her small laser up in the sky to draw their attention to her.

“Urbanmech what is your intention?” One of the Hunchbacks hailed.

“Urbanmech to Rasalhague, I mean no harm.” She panted. “I have information about house Liao that might benefit you.” Kahlan said into the communication device.

“Power down your weapons and approach.” The man in the hunchback replied.

Kahlan urged her little urbanmech towards the larger mechs and came to a stop about fifty feet from them. She popped her cockpit and climbed out, her cotton dress clinging to her provocatively.

The man who had been speaking to her climbed out of his mech to meet her on equal footing. “I’m Captain Harris, of the Free Rasalhague Republic. How can I help you?”

“I’m Kahlan Raynes former servitor, now I want to be a mercenary. I have information about house Liao’s plans to collaborate with Clan Ghost Bear. I will hand it over, if you take me with you off planet.” She announced.

“Fair enough. We don’t take kindly to slavery in the Republic, so anyone who wants to run is free to come along. It looks like you can even hold your own with that little urbanmech of yours.”

“Yeah he needs a little TLC but I think he’ll be able to make it just fine.” She said affectionately patting the old mech’s foot actuator.

Captain Harris strode closer to Kahlan. She was immediately taken by his straw blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “So, the card?” he asked.

She fished inside her bra and handed him the sweat covered memory card. He placed it in his data pad and examined its contents.

“Yes, it really does look like they’re conspiring with Ghost Bear. I think we should call off the negotiations and head home, what do you think?” he asked his companion.

A woman’s voice came from the speaker on the second hunchback. “Sounds good to me. Dropship Alpha, three mechs to pick up. We’re cancelling the negotiations and bringing a refugee with us, over”

“Roger that.” The dropship captain replied over their shared comms.

“You should get back in your mech. The dropship will be here in a few minutes.” Harris urged the young woman.

Kahlan scrambled up the ladder and sat back down in her seat, closing the cockpit door with a hiss. She put the neural interface back on her head and put her hand on the throttle.

The dropship roared down and opened its bay. The two hunchbacks lumbered inside, and Kahlan followed suit. She sighed with relief as the drop bay door slowly closed and she felt the ship shudder as it escaped Sian’s atmosphere. She was finally free.

[Kageru Ikazuchi]

Edit: <<The following is based on real people and events>>

I just saw that bit in the rules ... Panic did sponsor me, both Verci and I drink like fish, I used to chain smoke, and Vercinix does have tattoos ... feel free to contact them, they've seen this before. All the rest of it is bull.

INTRODUCTIONS

International Zone, Solaris VII

Skye March, Lyran Commonwealth

12 Aug 3048

The comm band on Vercinix’ wrist buzzed briefly, alerting him to an incoming message. Sliding the screen open, he saw that it was another message from Panicbutton about another potential recruit.

Verci -
Have Queen check this guy out -- Kagu Izama, former Drac Maj, goes by Kageru Ikazuchi -- he has been asking questions about us.  Seems like a straight-up guy, but guarded, may be hiding something.
- Panic

Verci sighed. Panic had been dragging in new members left and right. His instincts were usually good, but every now and then one of them turned out to be a flake. Occasionally, they were a threat.

Queenblade -
High priority request.  Full background check: Izama, Kagu; DCMS Sho-sa; AKA: Kageru Ikazuchi.
- Vercinix

Verci closed the screen. DCMS officers don’t just pull stakes and leave the Combine to join a rag tag Mercenary Unit, he thought to himself. Whatever his story was, Queenblade could find it. The 228th IBR hadn’t done anything to attract O5P or ISF attention … at least not recently, so this guy might be legit. If this Kageru’s story was interesting, Verci might call him in for an interview.

Montenegro, Solaris VII

Skye March, Lyran Commonwealth

18 Aug 3048

Kageru Ikazuchi's eyes had trouble adjusting to the dim lighting as he followed close behind a man he only knew by his callsign, "Panicbutton". Weaving between closely set tables and small groups of people nearly shouting at each other over the thunderous music, Panicbutton stopped and gestured towards one of the club's corner booths, occupied by one man. The dark tattoos, barely visible under his cuffs, caught Kageru's eye. In other places, such decoration would mean something different, but here on Solaris VII, it was not uncommon for 'mech jocks or fans to "get inked".

John "Vercinix", nodded towards the seat across from him and intently studied one of the data tablets scattered around his beer, half-eaten plate of food, and overflowing ashtray. Vercinix was the Executive Officer of the 228th IBR, a small Mercenary Corporation by coreward standards, but with a fierce reputation for professionalism and prowess. Kageru adjusted in the seat, trying to find a balance between sitting up straight, as would be expected when meeting with a superior in his past life, and relaxing casually.

Vercinix swiped through screen after screen on the tablet, then paused to glance at Kageru, eyebrows raised, looking somewhat impressed. Kageru settled into a slight slouch, leaning back into the curved seat. Swiping the tablet again, Vercinix glanced up, his brows tightened into a slight grimace. Kageru sat up straight.

As Vercinix set the tablet down, and the screen faded out, Kageru caught a glimpse of the last document, an official Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery letter.

"More than twenty years of honorable service as an officer in the DCMS, over ten of those as a MechWarrior," Vercinix began, as he filled his beer mug and offered the pitcher to Kageru. "Why did you resign your commission? Why do you want to join the 228th?"

Filling his mug halfway, Kag looked down and said quietly, "It's a long story."

"They all are,” Verci sighed, “We're mercenaries. Most of us have shadows in our past we'd rather not talk about, but if I'm going to trust you with a BattleMech, with my teammates, with my life, I have to know you. So, why?"

Kag sighed, took a long drink, refilled his mug, "mind if I smoke?"

After lighting his own cigarette, Vercinix offered his pack to Kag. "Thanks, but I prefer these," taking out his own hunchbacks. "After about five years with the 5th Cadre on Moritl, I got word that my mother's health was failing, so I requested transfer to the garrison back home, on New Samarkand. The Cadre had recovered from the War of 3039, so it was easy for my Commanding Officer to approve. Once I got settled in with the Galedon Regulars, I was able to take a bit of leave and visit with my family.

"My sister had grown into a fine young woman, but had not yet married.

"My father was the same as I had always known him. He was a loyal worker, skin blackened and muscles hardened from forty years at New Samarkand Metals. He may have been a bit slower, but he was still the stern and demanding man I grew up with, and in his eyes, I was still the unfaithful deserter. He'd expected me to follow in his footsteps, as is appropriate in the Combine, as the next head of the household, and never forgave me for joining the DCMS.

"My mother acted the part of the quiet and devoted wife, a bit smaller and appearing as frail as ever, but she had a fire in her eyes I did not remember. At first, I thought she was proud of me and happy to have me back on NS, but now I'm not so sure.

"Every few months I would visit, and each was basically the same. My sister would quietly serve us dinner and drinks, Mom and I would make small talk, and my father would sip his shochu pretending to not listen. It went on like this for a couple of years."

Vercinix looked bored out of his skull, resting one elbow on the table and propping up his head vaguely in Kageru's direction, but obviously distracted by the tablet in front of him and the timepiece on his wrist. Kageru lit another smoke, watched as the blue-gray cloud blended with the layer overhead, then continued.

"Just over a year ago, my battalion was on Chirala conducting training maneuvers with the Tabayama 31st Regulars, when I heard that my sister was in the hospital, and not expected to live. Three days later, I was able to get passage on a jumpship back to New Samarkand. I arrived late at night, long after visiting hours were over. Luckily, there aren't many local bureaucrats willing to obstruct a DCMS officer, particularly since I was wearing my field uniform, complete with daisho and sidearm. The doctors told me that her condition had improved, that she would be fine in a few weeks, but would likely lose sight in one eye. They also said that 'they could not save the child'. My sister had been pregnant.

"She had been beaten within an inch of her life. On my order, the doctors eased off the anesthetics enough for her to talk.

"Azumi told me that it was our father who had beaten her.” Kageru’s brow creased with his anger. “He had done it after she told him that she was carrying his daughter."

Vercinix straightened up a bit and waved for another pitcher as Kageru poured himself another mug.

Kageru continued, a bit more calm, "I should have set aside my weapons before entering our apartment. I wasn't planning to kill him. I just wanted to just give him a bit of the same treatment he had given me, my mother, and now my sister for so many years. Before I could even get through the door, he charged and swung at me with a hammer. My training and instinct took over."

Kageru wiped a tear from his cheek and continued.

"By the time I realized what I had done, I was kneeling in front of the body, holding the barrel of my pistol against my forehead.” Kag briefly fingered a scar over an errant tuft of his left eyebrow. “Mom was there, her gentle hand taking my sidearm from me. She told me in her quiet voice, 'close your eyes, I love you, I'm proud of you’, and 'this is going to hurt. A lot'."

Kageru paused and chuckled a little, "She fragging hit me in the side of the head with my father's hammer." Once again serious, "as I started to black out, I heard her scream a banshee's wail that I didn't think her capable of,

'YOU INCESTUOUS, MURDEROUS *******!', a shot rang out from my pistol, 'SATOMI!', another shot, 'YUKI!', another, 'AZUMI!', another, 'KAGU!', another, 'NO MORE!' ... and in rapid fire, she emptied the rest of the magazine into his chest.

Vercinix raised his hand slightly, "Satomi? Yuki?"

"They were my other sisters, Satomi died before I was born, Yuki fell from the roof of our apartment complex. She was only ten years old."

Vercinix nodded, glanced at his timepiece, sipped his beer, and waited for Kag to go on.

"I came to as the MedTechs were treating the gash on my head, and saw other officers talking to my mother. There was a strength and confidence in her eyes that I had never seen before. She looked radiant. She had told the police that he had attacked me, that he had knocked me out, and that she had taken my firearm from its holster and killed him. It apparently didn't take much questioning for my neighbors to back up her stories of decades of abuse."

Kageru choked back tears, which were flowing freely now.

Vercinix waited for Kag to regain his composure. "You still haven't answered my questions. Why did you resign? Why do you want to join the 228th?"

Kageru smiled and wiped his eyes, "I told you it was a long story."

Pouring another beer, Kag went on, "by tradition, Kuritans go into a year-long period of mourning after the death of our father, so Mom, Azumi, and I had a long time to talk about what had happened, and where the future led. I couldn't go back to the DCMS, not knowing the truth about my father's death. I am an honorable man. I cannot keep secrets, especially when I know how easy it would be for someone to discover the truth.

"While he certainly deserved to die, there are some who would use my dishonor against me, some who would argue that I should commit seppuku. Kuritan history is rife with suicide, death, vendetta, and murder, but also at the core of our traditions is filial piety ... honoring your ancestors. What I did to my father, killing him with a firearm when I could have just as easily disarmed him, was not honorable. I could not go back to the DCMS, and would never be able to serve the Coordinator as a MechWarrior with honor again. I had almost convinced myself that it would be best for me to take my life. I even started planning things out, my dress uniform was cleaned and prepared, my katana and wakizashi polished, my death poem and names chosen. But, I could not go through with it until I was certain that what was left of my family would be taken care of.

"I arranged for Azumi's wedding to a promising young Chu'i. One of the conditions of Azumi's marriage was that he take in our mother. As we were packing up the apartment, Mom started to get suspicious of my plans, and shared a secret with me, one that the women of our family had kept to themselves for centuries. She showed me this."

Kageru quickly reached down to his boot. As he did, all conversation in the club stopped. All eyes were on Kageru. Four of the closest patrons started to get up from their tables.

Kageru froze, staring at Vercinix.

Vercinix stared back, and then smiled and motioned that everything was alright, and the other conversations resumed, if a bit more muted than before.

"Slowly," Vercinix said.

Kageru unclipped his stiletto from his boot, held it reverently in front of him, bowed his head slightly, and placed it on the table. This little ceremony complete, he spun the still-sheathed dagger's hilt towards Vercinix and slid it to him. Verci looked at the dagger curiously, while the sheath was modern, the hilt and guard looked ancient. In Vercinix's large hands, the hilt was thin and unwieldy, obviously made for a much smaller person. As he drew the slender blade he noticed a symbol etched a few centimeters from the hilt, a cross pattée superimposed with Cameron's star. On the other side was etched, “CCXXVIII.”

Straightening in his seat, Kageru spoke proudly, "in late 2784, a young MechWarrior named Tomoe Gozen, my ancestor, disagreed with her commanding officer's decision to remain in the Inner Sphere and left her unit, the 228th Independent BattleMech Regiment of the 35th Corps of the 15th Army of the Star League Defense Forces, to join those that had assembled over New Samarkand. She arrived on the 10th of November, five days after General Kerensky's forces departed, and settled on New Samarkand. And that," Kag gestured to the blade, "was her knife."

Kageru rose, the club once again grew silent, his face turned steely calm, and he spoke clearly,

“Haku-no-fukyuu,

kageshita hana.

Ikazuchi kageru.

“Under the shadow of rotten trees,

flowers bloom.

Thunder, darkness falls.

“I am no longer Kagu Izama, Sho-sa in the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery, Sun Zhang MechWarrior, blind child, naïve adult, and murderer of my father.”

Kageru looked through Vercinix, with the cold, hard glare of determination that only warriors truly know. “That man is dead. I am Kageru Ikazuchi, Ronin MechWarrior, and I offer you my ancestor's blade."

Raising his wrist to his cheek, Vercinix spoke into his timepiece, "Queenblade?"

"Everything checks out," spoke a gruff voice.

Vercinix rose and gave the stiletto back to Kageru, "that is your blade."

Vercinix picked up his beer with his left hand, and extended his right to Kag. As they shook hands, Verci said, "Welcome to the 228th."

Edited by Kageru Ikazuchi, 25 July 2015 - 07:41 AM.

[Gorgo7]

Victory is difficult to quantify.

<This story is based on real people>

-Berenson 3052, 1^st quarter, local.

Gorgo took a deep breath and smelled the green foliage of spring while he admired the early morning dew, perfectly silver and glistening as the mist wafted across the glen. Maybe he should settle down, marry Margaret and raise a family…
His musing was interrupted by Captain Vash being noisily sick next to his command Mechs left leg…
Luck. Every morning the same.
He watched Vash wipe his lips and begin the long climb up the leg rungs and along the top of the Catapult’s egg shaped fuselage towards the open cockpit.
Squinting, Gorgo looked for the protuberances that were so clear to see upon Vash’s shaved skull. He couldn’t make them out at this distance but the fascination of knowing that Vash could interface directly with his Mech as well as the Command module aboard without the bulky headset and extensive calibration time made Gorgo’s thoughts of domestic bliss vanish in a puff of heat as Vash fired up the reactor.
Silent but hot, the big Vlar 300 power plant caused a local temperature bloom that dispelled the mist and evaporated the dew.
“Mount up Gorgo.” Came the order from Vash. Birds burst from the trees at the volume of it.
Gorgo said nothing and obediently climbed his own set of handholds up the front of the right leg and right torso of his Cataphract.
There was killing to be done.
Luck


-Capella 3051, 4^th quarter, local.


“I’m telling you they are vat raised and sexless!”
“Horsehockey! They are men just like you and I!”
“No, Sean had an opportunity to question one. He said, that before the prisoner died he admitted as much!”
“Go on! Sean’s been unreliable since he overheated his Awesome and fried his brain on Cestis IV!”
“Luck you, Sean’s a hell of a pilot!”

Gorgo shut out the din in the bar-room and ordered a drink. He was supposed to meet Vash and Eli here at the Eel and his mind was on getting out of this chicken-pooh unit. Margaret had come into her inheritance and Gorgo had a stable of Mechs from duels, successful campaigns and piracy. He would never admit the last though. Not to anyone. Piracy was a hanging offense and mutiny could be carried over from House to House. Best not to even think of it.
Yup, raising a gaggle of fat kids sounded OK to him.
“Gorgo, you’re not drinking that slop again are you?” asked Major Eli as he settled his not inconsiderable bulk onto the stool next to him.
“Yeah, that pooh will kill you.” Echoed Vash in a monotone that signalled he was concentrating on something other than the conversation as he sat on the opposite stool.
“Hi guys,” replied Gorgo, “I’m glad to see you. You see…I was thinking of retiring and going civilian.”
It kind of poured out of Gorgo without any forethought. Kids, money, growing old.
Eli said nothing and instead ordered a couple of glasses of Stregg. One for himself and one for Vash.
“Well, that’s interesting and all, but we got orders and you leaving the unit just isn’t one of them. We boost at midnight. You will bring your four best Mechs and we can discuss mustering-out after the mission is complete.” Said Vash distantly.
Eli slurped noisily at his Stregg and remained indifferent.
Gorgo sighed. “No, I’m done, I was quit when I walked in and I’m twice as quit now. See ya.” Gorgo got off his stool and pivoted to walk out.
Eli turned his head and eyed the pot-bellied Mech warrior who was built like a gorilla, as rich as a Solaris promoter with his own stable of Mechs and penurious as a beggar when it came to anyone but himself.
“You walk out of here and you know what you are? Little people, that’s what! You read me Gorgo? Little people!”
Gorgo stopped and sniffed, his back ramrod straight he pivoted and stared into Eli’s eyes.
The major was made of stone. “OK. That’s how it is?”
“That’s how it is.” agreed Eli. “We boost at midnight, briefing at boost plus 15”
“What’s the mission? Tell me it’s a quick in and out? Raid the Fed rats? Burn and raise? Out with it Eli!”
“We boost at midnight.” Eli got up and left, Vash went with him his drink untouched.
“45 c-bills Mechwarrior,” said the bartender.
Luck.


-Berenson 3052, 1^st quarter, local.

Vash had had an intermittent contact at close to 2 km’s. No ID, no transponder. It was clear that there were no friendlies nearby.
Hell, there was no air cover and all low orbit satellites were gone as well.
Pooh on a stick.
They had worked their way up to a saddle above the loading/transhipment point of a city that controlled the major trade of a small continent including the only star port on the planet.
“Orders,” said Vash.
“We have friendlies and some local support” said Vash.
“Oh, and we have hotties and beer” said Vash.
Horsehockey, thought Gorgo.
But he didn’t say it.
Luck.

-24hrs later

“Target!”
“Delta!”
“Madcat!!”
Christ! Let me live through this!
“He’s in the open! His right torso is squishy I could use some copulatin’ support!”
The big, nimble, Timberwolf vaulted up onto the fallen overpass over the smoking, ruined Hunchback it left behind as an offering to whatever twisted God the Clan worshipped.
Gorgo’s Blazefire Sightlock tracking system gently encouraged him to attack the Timberwolfs right torso as he locked it up.
Gorgo’s Battlemech, a Cataphract Model 4X was extremely non-stock.
Twined Ac 5’s in his right arm barked with rapidity and authority while the LBX-10 thundered intermittently from the left arm. Paired Diverse Optics type 2 med lasers linked to a Hovertec Quad SRM-4 jacked Gorgo’s heat to near unbearable levels, but were lethal in-close. The Timberwolf shook like a hunting dog shaking off after a swim as the Cat’s fire smashed into it.
Hot, hot! Was his coolant vest even working? Pour it on! POUR IT ON!
His computer claimed that the Cataphract could take a lot more before sustaining heat damage but Gorgo doubted that he could.
The Timberwolf paused in its advance down the overpass as its pilot zeroed the Cataphract and attempted to melt his torso with a multiplicity of lasers and rapid fire cannons. Its missile ports remained closed.
“Target locked, support in three seconds” said Vash.
At 300 meters it couldn’t miss. Gorgo twisted, weaved and jinked. Liquid goblets of metal and glass sheared away from the Cataphract as Gorgo attempted to protect his vitals at the expense of his arms and sides. He survived the assault and turned back into the beast.
Vash’s Missiles were dropping onto the Timber Wolf and it was moving obliquely towards an apartment block seeking cover from the blinding explosions that were sandblasting its Ferro fibrous armour and damaging the internal structure which Gorgo had exposed with his initial assault.
“Pour it on Vash! Pour it on!” Gorgo screamed at Vash over coms as euphoria and battle rage took command of his actions.
His cannons continued to thunder as he advanced on the now retreating Timber, his heat was down and he triggered the lasers and SRM’s to end the contest, the spike in heat was simple punctuation to his rage as fear was submerged beneath eagerness for victory and death. The LB-10X, mother of all shotguns pealed open the Timberwolfs right torso and with it the right arm spun into a residential building, setting it on fire. Gorgo could clearly see light shining through the holes in the right torso armour of the Maddog which pumped toxic coolant all over the road.
Like a crippled beast from mythology it continued to fight.
Vash’s missile fire never let up and the Timbers laser fire was sporadic and poorly aimed. Finally, his cockpit was shot away just as his engine core was breached. The Timberwolf squatted down and died. His pilot never ejected.
Somehow the smell of cordite had worked its way into Gorgo’s sealed cockpit. The alarms were just now heard and Gorgo took stock, one AC5 shot away, ammo at 25% reserve, central armour zero. Right arm armour zero. All other systems nominal. Some minor damage to the rest of the Armour, mostly cosmetic.
“Unknown target 800 meters, holding fire until you eyeball him.” said Vash.
Luck.

Berenson 3052, 2^nd quarter, local.


Gorgo watched the leopard class dropship come in and touchdown on the hastily cleared landing field from the back of a three ton truck. He wore some local camo and carried a rifle over his shoulder. Not for fighting so much, as for hunting.
Vash was asleep. These days without the Mechs Vash slept a lot. He had also stopped puking every morning. That Gorgo had begun to do, at least when he was able to find some booze…
Gorgo toed Vash in the ribs and he got up to observe the Dropship opening up while Gorgo ordered the local commander to pull over to the ship. Eli walked down a ramp flanked by a dozen armed crewmen. His normally hard face split into a wide grin, “Vash! Gorgo! You S.O.B.’s! You made it! Get aboard!”
In the officers briefing room, after lift off, the three sat down to discuss the situation.
“We lost our Mechs,” said Vash. “Where the Luck have you guys been?!” asked Gorgo.
Eli expertly poured three large glasses of Stregg and passed them around.
“Well, after your company dropped on Berenson the sector exploded and the Battalion was tasked with holding Elgin and then Hsien.” Intoned Eli. “Things got so heavy there were actually spacebattles at the jump points between jumpships…I never thought I’d live to see that day.”
Eli drank deeply from his glass before resuming his narrative. “We lost Elgin and half the Battalion but managed to keep Hsien and Berenson. God job Vash, Gorgo.”
“Keep Berenson? In case you haven’t noticed we were afoot when you showed up and living in the woods. The population centres are crawling with Clan and their turn coat slaves!”
“Easy Gorgo, these days any planet that continues to resist the clan is considered a victory regardless of cost or condition. The Clan pushed so far, so fast, that their logistical support is collapsing. We have begun a counter attack that is intended to retake all of the Confederations lost worlds, plus some more.” Eli pressed a stud and up came an inventory of unit and personnel Battlemech. “We will rendezvous at Tall Trees, the Clan has been using this world as a forward staging point for their attacks. Once we possess it, we can effectively begin to strangle them out. This is a list of Mechs available to the two of you, choose three each, we will have lots of support and secondary’s. The chancellor has authorized mind recordings, so you’ll get a second chance if things go….badly.”
“Mind recording? I thought that was for the Nobility only.” Said Gorgo, watching Vash perk-up as he looked at the Mechs available to him.
“The way things are going you are Nobility, at least for the next couple of years.” Said Eli.
“Years!”
Luck

Edited by Gorgo7, 29 July 2015 - 06:17 PM.

[Chados]

Codename: CHADOS

"I knew I'd find you here, Tara."

His deep, even voice startled her and she spun, dropping her jacket on the dusty ground of the disused mechbay. Before she could snatch it up, Shiro was already there, smoothly sweeping it up. He held it carefully, surveying it with a lifted, grey eyebrow before looking up at her, measuring her reaction.

"I haven't seen this in a long time." He was angry. It was obvious. "Seventeenth Rasalhague Regulars, I recognize that patch. The battle honors."

"Yes." She tried to keep her voice neutral.

"Tara, why? Why didn't you tell me?" Not angry. Hurt. And more. Shiro was afraid, and she'd never heard that tone from him before.

"I couldn't, Shiro. I'm sorry."

"I knew you'd been in the Fourth Succession War, with the Chancellor's father. And that you served on the frontier." His hand caressed the faded patch of the Seventeenth on the jacket's chest, resting over her name and a row of enameled honors won in battle, and House Kurita's dragon in red and black on the shoulder. "That was a proud unit. Light 'mechs. I should have realized, with Bug here, all this time. I thought it was your father's, but it was yours, wasn't it." He jerked a thumb at the 'mech, an old Locust, standing shadowed behind them in faded, green camouflage.

"Yes." She gently took the jacket from him.

"And now you're going back? Now? That was thirty years ago, Tara. The Mustered Soldiery has changed, it's not the same outfit you remember. You're a grandmother now, not a trooper fresh out of the training course. You'll be twenty years older than your next oldest lancemate!"

"And I'm starting at the bottom, too." She smiled at him. "My Reserve rank didn't transfer."

They stood there for a long moment, staring at each other in the moonlight. She swallowed, steeling herself for what she knew she had to say next.

"I have to go, Shiro. For Black Hat and A-ko, and everyone else who fought with Takashi." As she spoke, her voice grew more firm. "I was their leader, I commanded the Seventeenth. And we lost so many of our friends."

He sighed, an exasperated sigh, his jaw clenched. "They're dead, Tara. It's not your fault that they died. And the Seventeenth has been disbanded for years. The Rasalhague District doesn't even exist anymore. Takashi isn't the Coordinator anymore, his son is." He paused. "So Ironhand returns to the fight? Why? You owe me that, at least."

Ironhand, she thought. What the Lance used to call me. "You remember when Marik raided Luthien at the end of the Succession War. I was here, with the Bug." She turned away from him, resting a black-gloved hand on the Locust's flank. "First units into the city. You could stack up the dead like cordwood." She turned, and he saw the fire in her eyes. "And now the Clans are coming, Shiro. Do you want Keiichi and the girls to end like that? I don't! I can't let it happen!"

He stood still for a moment, like she'd slapped him. Then he nodded, reaching for her, folding her into his arms. "Be careful...Ironhand. The Bug will get you killed on a modern battlefield."

She giggled. "I'm not using that old call anymore." She reached into her jacket, pulling out a sheaf of old pictures. "Keiichi found these." She indicated a picture of a Shadowhawk. "He said, 'look, Mommy! Chados!' He's still learning how to talk."

Her voice grew distant.

"Chados. That's my name now. The Clans will learn to fear it. I swear it."

[Bill Bullet]

Aaaaaaand time! No more entries or edits allowed past this point!

[Bill Bullet]

Thanks SO much to the community for making this event as big as it is! Thanks Tina for putting this on the MWO social networks, and thanks to all who read, write, and like the stories here! I'll start the task of reading and judging the entries today. Feel free to "like" the stories above to vote for the "Fan Favorite". Winners will be announced in a new thread that I will start.

See you on the battlefield MechWarriors!

[Gorgo7]

Thanks Bill! I havn't writtena story of anysort for years! I really enjoyed the exercise.

Thanks again!

[Peiper]

This thread should be pinned until the 'like' part of the vote is complete. I'll ask a mod to have this pinned.

I 'reported' the OP and requested it be pinned. Hopefully a mod will soon read the report. So many good stories, the thread should have a least a little better visibility.

Next time, if someone wants to offer a contest like this, PGI should put it on the announcements page or something. The generosity of the contest organizer should be enough to get a little higher profile on the forums. He's offering over $100 in prizes. Not much to some, but a lot for many!

_______________

It's been pinned! TY mods!

Edited by Peiper, 26 July 2015 - 10:01 AM.

[xX PUG Xx]

Cheers Bill

and well done to everyone that posted, some very cool stories in there.

I love that we are all so "into" our little game that it inspires us to add our own flavour to the IP. It is this sort of thing that gets my blood pumping for the BT Universe and I firmly believe the Lore has enough variety and depth to truly compete with J.R.R Tolkien or Star Wars; if only we were able to promote it more to the younger generations

[Harper Steel]

Thank you Bill for this..
it gives many of us MWO writers a chance to show others our work
thank you sir...
you are a Gentleman and a Warrior

DeejayM

[Soulstrom]

Great, Great Contest! Love it. Thanks for putting it on Bill Bullet.

[R 13]

Good fun, and great Idea. Thanks for organizing it!

[Rhaythe]

Glad to see so many entrants! Looked like scarce picking at first. Good wordsmithing, everyone.

[WatDo]

"Trust Issues"

Spoiler

*BRZZZZzzzzzzzzZZZzzzzt*

"Damnit," spat General Rick Armstrong. "I still can't get HQ on comms, anyone else having any luck?" I could hear a twinge of something... possibly fear, in his voice?
That's not like him at all, not *the* General Rick Armstrong - the best, bravest and easily the most skilled Davion pilot this side of the universe, maybe he already knew not all of us were going to survive?

"I got nothin' boss-man, how 'bout you, Greenie?" muttered Maddock, his voice like gravel in my headset. "Don't call me Greenie." I hated that nickname. I hated that man, too. Always so arrogant on the field,
so confident in his Hunchbacks ability to keep him alive. It speaks volumes about how sturdy those damn things are I suppose, it's carried him to the *lofty* rank of Private after all.

"Don't be so green and I won't call ya' Greenie, Greenie." "Cut the chatter, look sharp. DO you have anything, Greenie?" Armstrong interrupted. "I've got nothing, General." "Fat lot a' good those fancy new electronics are doin ya, eh Greenie? You've got more sensors than anything in that tiny little Commando. That's hardly even a Davion mech!"

"It's not like I wanted to drive this rustbucke-" Before I could finish my sentance Armstrong bellows over comms "I saw movement, 11 o'clock on the ridgeline!"

*FfffzzzzzWAP*

Before Maddock could even turn to get to cover, a PPC bolt slams into his torso sending his mech reeling off to the side. "WHERE 'ER THEY?! I got nothin' on my sensors!" *Ffffzzzzzzzzzzzap* Another bolt rocks his Hunchback, blowing off an arm in an explosion of colors and sparks. "I can't see them either, they must be jamming us. Greenie, I need you to find them or we're done for." Armstrong orders, almost politely as a volley of PPC bolts rocks his mountain of a mech, the Atlas.

I shove my throttle to it's max so hard I thought the cheap thing was going to snap off in my hand. My Commando jumps to life, rocketing off so fast it jerked my head backward. As I regained my bearings, i look around just in time to see another bolt flying toward Armstrong's Atlas, cackling with terrifying energy and flying with such force it shook the trees as it flew past.

*SLAM* I could almost feel that one myself.

I barrel over the ridge and am immediately met with a PPC bolt to my torso. Sparks fly, blinding me as i struggle to keep my tin can upright. I jerk the controls wildly to no avail. My mech topples over, slamming into the ground.

*Crunch* *Screech* *CRRRReeeeeeak-SNAP*

One of my arms rips off. "Pathetic. No wonder these things die so easily." I think as I come to a stop with one final THUD. I watch the Commandos arm fall uselessly to the ground outside my cockpit. "Nothing but a panic shot" I say, "I'll let that one slide." as i whip around to spot the shooter.

*CLICK* I fire a warning shot, my laser digging into the ground just under the shooter, a simple Panther, as it rushes over the ridge to reengage Maddock and Armstrong.
My Commando screeches back up to speed in pursuit; oil, coolant and a whole host of wonderful things spout out of now very crippled shoulder.

*BA-DOOOOOOOOM*

Maddock's Autocannon/20 lets out a thundering BOOM, the shot connecting directly with the poor Panther's leg. It explodes off violently as it falls helplessly to the ground.
"Say yer' prayers, Kurita scum." He steadies his aim, locking onto the downed mechs center torso. I steady my own aim.

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOO*

All of my medium lasers connect cleanly into Maddock's center torso as the Panther fires a final, full, desperate alpha strike back at him, sending Maddock stumbling backward onto the ground in an explosion of light and sparks, his Hunchback nearly ripped in half.

Before anyone could react further, Armstrong's Atlas shook the ground as it fired everything at the downed Panther, finishing it for good in a violent explosion of SRMs and autocannon fire.

"WHAT. WAS. THAT, GREENIE?" Maddock barked over comms. "YA NEARLY KILLED ME!" "I doubt he meant to, calm down, Maddock."

*BA-DOOOOOOOOOM* Without hesitation, Maddock's Hunchback jumped to life and bellowed out another autocannon shot, this one aimed squarely at me. Before I could even react the shot connects with my torso and sends me crumpling to the ground.

"Center torso, critical damage." Betty yells into my ears as warning lights shine all around the cockpit. I close my eyes tightly and brace myself for the final blow.

*BA-DOOOOOOOOOM* *SLAM*

"Am I dead?" I think to myself, slowly opening my eyes. Smoke from my badly damaged engine clouds my vision, but I can see the towering mech infront of me.

"Git outta my way, Armstrong."

"Stand down, Private."

"Ya saw it y'erself, he shot straight at me, and if yeh haven't noticed ever'thing is STILL jammed. Smells a little fishy t'me, Gen'ral."

"Calm down, Private! That just means there's more out here with us!"

*BA-DOOOOOOOOOM*

"I'll shoot thru ya' if I have to then, damnit!"

*BA-DOOOOOOOOOM* Maddock thunders out another shot at Armstrong, now badly damaged with smoke pouring out of his crumbling behemoth.

"You made me do this, Maddock."

*FWOOOOFWOOOOFWOOOOSH*

Armstrong's Atlas unleashes all of it's fury at Maddock's Hunchback. Each volley of rockets slamming into him with seemingly increasing force and ferocity. The volleys rip the Hunchback in half and it slams to the ground in a smouldering, firey heap.

*Flick*

*BRRRRRRRRRZZZzzzzzzzzzt*

"This is HQ, General Armstrong, do you read!?" An operators voice frantically yells over the recently reestablished comms.

"We're here. I was starting to worry, HQ."

"General, you have to retreat! Your lance was inflitrated by a Kurita operative!"

"We already dealt with him, HQ, we need extraction."

"Great job as always, General. We're sending an extraction team to your coords."

Armstrong powers down his Atlas, the towering mech slowly sputters to a halt and slumps into a resting position. "You did good, Greenie. I'm sorry your first time out went this badly, but we're going home."

I ready my weapons once more. "No, General. Only one of us will be going home."

*FWOOOOOOOOOOOO*

The Atlas slumps further, the towering machine falls lifelessly to the ground as all of it's systems go offline for the last time.

*Flick* I turn on all of my jamming equipment again, just to be safe.

"This is Warlord Ashiyo reporting in. All targets down. Their "extraction team" is en route."

"Affirmative, Warlord. Extract. We have lances inbound to intercept them."

Edited by WatDo, 25 July 2015 - 06:57 PM.

[Bill Bullet]

Alright this is gonna be harder than I thought! And I mean that in a good way, just so many good stories! So good and so many in fact I can't judge them fairly alone! So I got an English teacher and a panel of judges reading over these now, winners will be announced on Thursday July 30th in a new thread that I will start. Once again, great work and thanks to everyone who made this possible! Remember to read and "Like" your favorite stories to help pick the "Fan Favorite" winner!

Edited by Bill Bullet, 26 July 2015 - 07:13 PM.

[BafGandalf]

Bill Bullet, on 26 July 2015 - 07:11 PM, said:

Alright this is gonna be harder than I thought! And I mean that in a good way, just so many good stories! So good and so many in fact I can't judge them fairly alone! So I got an English teacher and a panel of judges reading over these now, winners will be announced on Thursday July 30th in a new thread that I will start. Once again, great work and thanks to everyone who made this possible! Remember to read and "Like" your favorite stories to help pick the "Fan Favorite" winner!

Non native english speakers will be judged the same way as native ones? (because i see some guys and also me, who doesn't have english as their native language)

Thanks and regards,

[Escef]

BafGandalf, on 27 July 2015 - 04:22 AM, said:

Non native english speakers will be judged the same way as native ones? (because i see some guys and also me, who doesn't have english as their native language)

Thanks and regards,

Well, it is a contest where everything is in English. Would it be nice if there was a fan-run contest for fanfic in other languages? Absolutely.

While the criteria are completely up to Bill, I don't see how it would be fair to treat people that have English as their non-primary language any differently for an English composition contest.

Besides, being perfectly honest here, I've found that many people that speak English as secondary language are more proud of and careful with their English than most of us who speak it as our primary/only language.