10 replies to this topic

[VEDRFOLNIR]

Well folks, I have been so inspired by MWO's development and the good folk that visit these forums, that I have decided to dust off my writer's pen (so to speak) and delve back into the world of BattleTech and MechWarrior for the first time in a long time.

I welcome comments and feedback, but a couple of caveats (and a plea for mercy):

• While I have taken pains to write this story to appeal to as wide an audience as possible, this is nonetheless a story with mature themes which might be considered controversial or disturbing. Reader Discretion is advised!
  
• To make this story easier to read, I have opted for a slightly larger font size. I have also taken pains to separate paragraphs by spaces. It's been my experience that taking these steps makes a forum-posted story easier to read.
  
• To add flavor to the story, some phrases will be either in German, Swedish or other languages. However, I cannot speak, nor write in these languages - so I use Google Translate. If my grammar is incorrect, please let me know and I will correct it ASAP.
  
• I'm a fiddle-holic. This means that I have a bad habit of obsessively 'fiddling' with a story, fixing grammatical errors and so on. While this won't affect the flow of the story, don't be surprised if minor details change between one reading and the next.
  
• While I have the overall storyline firmly in mind, I'm pretty organic when it comes to writing out scenes and dialog. What does this mean? Well, it pretty much means that there's no set schedule on rolling out story chapters - I'll find myself bashing away at a paragraph I've just written, until it feels 'just right'. Odin forbid that I run into Writer's Block!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story. Again, I welcome any constructive criticism.

Without further ado, I present...

Dead of Winter

Edited by VEDRFOLNIR, 02 December 2011 - 11:01 AM.

[VEDRFOLNIR]

DEAD OF WINTER

Part the First

Matthias Military Base
Erewhon
Greater Valkyrate
August 7th, 2047

The graffiti had always fascinated Reynkiin Daalmarch. Names, phrases, limericks and poetry had been burned or cut into the wall of this large room: in the harsh light of the portable fluorescent lamps, they seemed to Reynkiin like wounds, cut into the flesh of the ferrocrete wall. He had found the unsettling analogy surprising, for he considered himself an optimist: a necessity for someone in his line of work. Yet, the grisly comparison remained. Perhaps it was because of the company he had to keep these days – pirates were not known for their mental stability. I must take care; the MechWarrior had thought more than once, it would not do to go native. Doubtless the two years Reynkiin had spent among the scum and villains of Ryan’s Rebels had not been helpful to his mental state, though his training had anticipated such negative influences.

Today, Reynkiin completed his daily exercise regimen and carefully lowered the ferroblocks to the floor, pushing his exhausted arm muscles to their absolute limit. The ferroblocks were tied to metal cables strung through eyelets Reynkiin had drilled into the ceiling. He let the cable handles dangle loosely, and stepped away toward the cot. It had a single threadbare green blanket spread over a thin mattress. Like so much equipment available in the Greater Valkyrate, the blanket had been snatched from some supply depot in the Federated Commonwealth; it still had ‘PROPERTY OF THE AFFC’ stitched into one corner. Reynkiin had smirked at the irony when he had ‘borrowed’ it, along with the other purloined furnishings, which consisted of a chair, a table, a metal cabinet for his clothes; though the space heater, which hummed quietly in one corner, was actually a relic of a bygone era. Reynkiin had been amazed and not a little pleased that it still worked, for even more than a hundred meters below the sub-zero surface, it was bitterly cold. The how of its’ continued functioning after so long, without an electrical cord or valve for adding fuel was a mystery, but Reynkiin didn’t dwell on it – as long as it continued working, it was of immense value.

Reynkiin had used his off-time (which there was quite a bit of on an ice-bound backwater like Erewhon) to explore the network of tunnels, chambers and warehouses that spread beneath Matthias like a web. The base’s top level, which consisted of a few scattered buildings and an elevated landing pad for DropShips, was the portion of the base that was currently inhabited. The other four levels, stretching more than three hundred meters below Erewhon’s permafrost and kilometers in every direction, were abandoned. In addition to the efficient space heater, Reynkiin had found relics that, had his ‘superiors’ known about, would have killed each other to have, and yet no one ever came down here. Reynkiin had quickly discovered why – there were legends that ghosts haunted these lower levels – and many scavengers had disappeared down here, never to be seen again. Reynkiin had shrugged the first time he heard these stories, and had simply continued his investigations anyway. His ‘superiors’ didn’t care; as long as he showed up for his weekly scheduled patrols, there were no complaints. In fact, Reynkiin believed that the commanding officers of the 2nd Battalion of Ryan’s Rebels wouldn’t shed a tear if he failed to come up from the lower levels one day – Captain Petrov in particular. Of course, he knew there were no ghosts down here – but stumbling about in a labyrinth of tunnels 20 kilometers on a side without any survival gear was bound to get one hopelessly lost. Reynkiin had found two corpses, decomposed to uniform-draped skeletons, lost in this massive place with few working lights and starving to death. He had bypassed this problem by using the MapTracker application on his PadCom – though he had in no way explored every part of this place yet, his PadCom had very nice maps saved – maps that had proved invaluable more than once.

This activity fit nicely into his persona as the ‘loner’ who hated the other MechWarriors assigned here, and was hated in return. Indeed, in the two years he had been part of Ryan’s Rebels, he had carefully cultivated the reputation for being a psychopath that would kill you as soon as look at you – and had backed up that reputation with fact (and blood) more than once. In fact, while he had only identified himself as ‘Ghost’ to the other Rebels, in the two years since he had earned another name – a name given in respect and fear in equal measure; in Steiner German he was called Schatten. ‘Shadow’. It was a ‘handle’ that he liked, so he adopted it as his own. In a military with actual rules, someone like Schatten would have been discharged and committed right away – but here, where anyone with any military skill was desperately needed, his ‘superiors’ let his behavior slide, with warnings to others to keep their distance. Truthfully, being a murderous lunatic wasn’t that uncommon in the Social Darwinist experiment that was the Greater Valkyrate. Besides, Reynkiin was an excellent MechWarrior, and that’s all they cared about.

All this chaos was why Reynkiin often retreated to this room, which he had dubbed Fristad for it truly was his sanctuary. His MIMIR training offered mental exercises to refresh his mind and spirit, and he used them often. Exercise was but one method of ‘dealing with it’, and was a requirement to keep his martial skills honed to the lethal edge needed to survive here.

Reynkiin sat down on the cot, jostling the PadCom which rested near the single pillow, plugged into a fiber-optic outlet, and used a towel to mop the sweat from his face. Stripping down, he cleaned himself of sweat and grime before donning a pair of woven-fiber ‘long johns’ that helped keep him warm, and then taking a green one-piece field uniform and stepping into it. He zipped up, and reached into one of the outfit’s many pockets and pulled out a NutriBar. Like exercise, balanced eating was essential to mental and physical health and thanks to the last equipment drop a good supply of the nutrition-rich protein bars was available to supplement the food available to him up-top.

The Amau Electronics PadCom was a state-of-the-art communications device, with formidable computing power and recon gear stuffed into a non-reflective black case that easily fit in the palm of Reynkiin’s hand. The PadCom had an integrated short-range radar system invaluable for using the MapTracker application down here in the labyrinth; a vidcamera with multiple viewing options, wireless networking – the list of available technology went on and on. It was standard equipment for the FRR’s Military Intelligence agency. Of course, the PadCom was one of his two most treasured possessions. It had proven easy to smuggle into the Greater Valkyrate two years ago. Communicating his observations and receiving directives had proven to be another matter.

Since the Greater Valkyrate didn’t have any HPG stations on its’ planets, the Communications and Signals division had set up a ‘Pony Express’ system of Jump- and DropShips that monitored communications in the Bandit Kingdom as they passed through as ‘armed independent traders’ on their way to and from Hendrik Grimm’s Oberon Confederation and the Elysian Fields, the Confederation’s client state. These JumpShips, bristling with advanced communications gear, used their attendant DropShips to ‘seed’ each solar system in the Valkyrate with communications/intelligence satellites that were undetectable to the primitive surveillance gear available to the Pirates. Even though the Pony Express system no longer traveled to the Confederation nor the Elysian Fields since the communications blackout of 2045, the system still worked well in the Valkyrate, and MIMIR continued its’ use. Once he had relayed his assigned station back to the Republic, he obtained additional materiel via equipment drops into the wilds of Erewhon’s unexplored frontier.

Like so much available technology, the base’s advanced fiber optic network was barely used by the Pirates who were stationed here – Reynkiin was, as far as he knew, the only individual on Erewhon who had equipment which could actually use the network other than the enslaved technicians, and he had taken precautions so that none of them would ever detect the PadCom. Hell, even the command staff relied on oldtech walky-talky radio to communicate. The fiber-optic network used power from the base’s fusion reactor – a reactor maintained by technicians kidnapped from the Inner Sphere and kept as slaves, separate from the soldiers and few support staff. They also maintained the computer network – again, stolen from Inner Sphere storehouses – but even these 2nd-hand computers weren’t advanced enough to use the network, and instead used their own slower networking options. Reynkiin had seen them once, herded like cattle into the commissary for the slop they were fed twice a day. They had been thin and malnourished, with blank eyes of the utterly hopeless. He had watched them, his eyes unseen behind his Zeiss-Gormir mirrored sunglasses, then looked away to mind his own food. They weren’t beyond his reach, but he had no orders to rescue them.

Reynkiin had received the coordinates via coded EM transmission to the PadCom, and had travelled out into the wastes alone in his ASN-21 Assassin. The MIMIR drop had coincided with his patrol schedule (thanks to the information Reynkiin had provided) so it had been easy to go to the drop-point, and gather the materials left for him. The last drop had been three months ago. Since then, he simply observed the workings of Ryan’s Rebels, recorded what he saw into his PadCom, and sent the information along.

The PadCom was one of his two most treasured possessions. The other sat on the table. It was a pair of black wrap-around sunglasses. They looked fairly standard, even a bit scratched and beaten but this was, just like Reynkiin’s whole persona, completely misleading. The Zeiss-Gormir mirrored sunglasses actually had communications gear built into it, and was slaved to the PadCom by short-wave microwave technology. Since it was rarely advisable to have his PadCom out where everyone could see it, he could instead hide it within an interior pocket, with its’ information GUI beamed to the sunglasses’ internal antenna, which could then be projected on the inside of the left lens. Due to its’ construction, anyone looking at Reynkiin wouldn’t see the information readouts – instead, the mirrored shades simply added to his persona. The sunglasses could, with a glance at the GUI projected on the lens, change frequencies so he could see in thermo graphic and low-light wavelengths. The shades even had an integrated ‘FindMe’ transmitter that would beam its’ location to the PadCom – and vice versa, in case one was lost. Reynkiin even carried a small tracker device at all times that would perform the same function, though to lose such valuable equipment was the mark of a sloppy operative.

And Reynkiin was anything but sloppy.

The PadCom beeped, indicating a coded transmission was incoming. Reynkiin didn’t pause while tying on his combat boots; he simply waited until the PadCom beeped again, indicating the transmission had been received and decoded. He finished donning his combat gear, and then picked up the device. He pressed his left thumb to the flat screen display and then waited while his thumbprint was scanned and compared to his information profile. Satisfied of his authenticity, the PadCom’s display changed – flat blue text slowly scrolled on a black screen. Reynkiin read the information in silence for several minutes, and then touched an illuminated button on the screen. The transmission was saved to the internal hard drive, encrypted and secure, and the PadCom returned to ‘standby’ mode.

Reynkiin didn’t visibly react at the transmission’s contents, though his mind buzzed with the information. Finally, after two years… He undocked the PadCom from its’ recharge cradle and slipped the device into an interior pocket where it wouldn’t be seen. The MIMIR operative then picked up the mirrored sunglasses and slid them on. He walked over to the graffiti-covered wall and stared at it for several seconds. There was one scrawl that had always fascinated him:

We leave today.
We will return tomorrow.
Justice shall prevail and villains will burn.
- LIX

He had wondered who ‘Lix’ had been. It sounded like he (or she) must have been part of General Kerensky’s Exodus, which puts that scrawl at more than 300 years old. Ultimately it didn’t matter. It was time to return to the hellish world he had been plunged into for two years now.

The operative took a deep breath, centering himself, pulling deep into himself. Reynkiin closed his eyes, but it was Schatten who opened them. ‘The villains will burn,’ he growled softly. ‘I like that.’ Schatten stalked over to the heavy door and with a yank, wrenched it open. The long corridor was silent and dark. He pulled out a utility flashlight and its’ harsh light filled the corridor. He turned and shut the door, activating the sophisticated locking mechanism. In front of his left eye, a glowing map appeared, showing his location in the labyrinth. Schatten grinned mirthlessly in the gloom, thinking about the transmission that he – no, Reynkiin had read. ‘Time to pay a visit to Lieutenant Baker,’ he said of his Lance commander. 'Yes, I am sure he'll be... excited... to see me.' His laughter echoed down the corridor, but there was no one to hear it... except perhaps ghosts.

Edited by VEDRFOLNIR, 03 December 2011 - 07:08 AM.

[Mikhal Rain Longcut]

Good start. Like how you are picking a subject most people forget about Pirates. Gonna follow this thread keep up the good work.

[VEDRFOLNIR]

Mikhal Rain Longcut, on 01 December 2011 - 07:27 PM, said:

Good start. Like how you are picking a subject most people forget about Pirates. Gonna follow this thread keep up the good work.

Thanks! I appreciate you taking the time to take a look.

[VEDRFOLNIR]

DEAD OF WINTER

Part the Second

Matthias Military Base
Erewhon
Greater Valkyrate
August 10th, 2047

The room stank. Too many unwashed men and women, too many cigarettes and booze, and too little maintenance meant the room swam in stench. Schatten looked at the world through his enhanced Zeiss-Gormir mirrored sunglasses, and found the whole thing utterly contemptible and disgusting. Verdammt! He thought in disgust, have these people never taken a bath? The men and women who sat around him were a motley and rough lot, and having been pirates (in some cases) their entire lives, it was obvious that hygiene was not a high priority. Or intelligence, he thought. But I cannot complain too much – after all, I am one of the reasons for this meeting.

Around a simple white table sat the Company and Lance commanders of the 2nd Battalion of Ryan’s Rebels. At the head of the table, looking extremely displeased, sat the 2nd’s Amazonian commander, Major Maria Sanderson. Schatten had seen her before, of course, but this was the first time he had been this close – and certainly hadn’t had pleasure of seeing her wrath up close and personal. Sanderson was tough as nails, and had absolutely no compunctions about having anyone who had displeased her put to death, either by her own hand or the pair of bodyguards that stood mutely behind her. Reynkiin’s file on her was replete with tales of lovers who had displeased her in some way, and had ended up dumped out in the sub-zero cold of Erewhon’s tundra… naked. Schatten could almost respect her for that. She stood to her feet, and utter silence fell upon the room. Her long blonde hair was pinned into a bun, and her uniform was undoubtedly the cleanest Schatten had seen yet. She stared at Schatten with distaste, and snarled ‘Take off those gottverdammten sunglasses!’ He smiled dourly. ‘Natürlich, Major Sanderson. ‘ He easily slipped off the augmented shades, and held them loosely in one hand. She leaned forward, placing both hands on the table.

‘The death of Lieutenant Baker couldn’t come at a worse time,’ she said crossly. ‘1st Company’s Recon Lance cannot be without a Lieutenant. Now,’ Major Sanderson said with a piercing glare at Schatten, ‘I have no doubts that the investigation of Lieutenant Baker’s accident -‘ her heavy emphasis on the last word didn’t go unnoticed – ‘will turn up all sorts of interesting details, but we can’t afford to wait.’ She paused dramatically. Schatten’s face was impassive, but inwardly he was amused at Sanderson’s talk of an “investigation”. He knew how effective any investigation team would be among these inzucht idioten. He knew that the details of Baker’s death would never be uncovered – and would certainly never point back to Schatten. He realized that the tension in the room had increased as Sanderson kept talking, for everyone else in the room (regardless of how dim most of them were) knew where this was all leading.

‘MechWarrior Schatten, stand to your feet!‘ Keeping his face impassive, Schatten did as ordered. Out of the corner of his eye, Schatten noticed the look of abject fury on Captain Nikolai Petrov’s moon face, and how his large meaty fists kept clinching and unclenching in a fierce rhythm. Petrov hated Schatten more than anyone else at the table, and the recently-deceased Martin Baker was the reason why. Schatten noted the sheen of sweat that made Petrov’s bald pate gleam in the fluorescent light. Sans a long topknot that ended in a ponytail at his chinless neck, Petrov kept his head completely shaved. Major Sanderson reached into a pocket on her uniform and, without decorum, tossed a set of Lieutenant’s Bars onto the table. They bounced and skipped across the table, coming to a stop directly in front of Schatten, still at semi-attention. This time, he smiled slightly. Excellent aim, he thought. ‘I hereby promote you to the rank of Lieutenant. You now command the Recon Lance, 1st Company. You will now report directly to Captain Petrov.‘ Sanderson made a dismissive motion toward the hulking man, who glared furiously at the Major, before turning his pig-eyes toward Schatten. ‘I will expect,‘ he rumbled dangerously, ‘your status report of Recon Lance’s ready-status by this time tomorrow.‘ Schatten picked up the Lieutenant’s Bars and met Petrov’s glare directly. ‘Ja Captain Petrov, you will have it. ‘ His smile grew wider, even as his gray eyes narrowed. ‘You will see Recon’s performance improve significantly in short order.‘ It was a calculated shot, and before Petrov could react, Schatten dug in deeper by looking at the Lieutenant’s Bars and commenting, ‘Ah, so they cleaned off the blood.’ The provocation worked. Petrov’s eyes widened and his moon face flushed a deep red. ‘Ublyudok!‘ he roared the curse in Old Russian and lunged over the table, his hands reaching for Schatten’s neck.

Pandemonium ensued, but only for a moment. Captain Bachmeier of 2nd Company, who had been sitting next to Petrov, grabbed at the furious man, but suddenly a hand grabbed Petrov’s long ponytail in a lightning-fast motion. Major Sanderson rammed Petrov’s face into the table with bone-jarring force; the table bounced under the sudden pressure, and the rifleshot Crack! of Petrov’s nose smashing into the tabletop could be heard over the raised voices. Schatten, who hadn’t moved at all, was impressed. The Major had vaulted onto the table and reached Petrov in amazing time. She now towered over all of them. ‘Enough!‘ she roared with the voice of a woman who had learned to thrive in the male-dominated world of piracy. Sanderson looked down at Petrov’s unmoving form, sprawled across the table. ‘Your issues with Lieutenant Schatten will not be settled at this table!‘ She turned and pointed a finger at Schatten. ‘He is now a Lieutenant, and commands the Recon Lance, and that is final!‘ She took two steps back over to her chair, and hopped down. To his secret amusement, Schatten noted that Sanderson’s bodyguards hadn’t moved, and had matching stunned looks on their faces. It had all happened so quickly, they didn’t have a chance to respond. Sloppy, he thought. I imagine we’ll see some replacements soon. Taking her seat, Sanderson motioned dismissively at Petrov, still slumped over the table. ‘Get him off the table.‘ Captain Bachmeier pulled his fellow Captain off the table and back into his chair, where he slumped unceremoniously, blood still dripping from his ruined nose. Sanderson looked at the pool of blood on the white tabletop and made a slight sound of disgust.

Schatten clipped the Lieutenant’s Bars to his uniform’s lapels. His face had grown impassive once more and, without a further word, slid his sunglasses back over his eyes, and sat down in his chair. There was a very heavy silence for a moment, and then Major Sanderson spoke again. ‘Since that’s settled – ‘she looked around with a meaningful glare, ‘we can move on to other business. One of our JumpShips have arrived in-system and in six days, a convoy from 3^rd Battalion will arrive with supplies from their latest raid into Inner Sphere space. As I understand it, there will be quite a bonanza to supply the troops, and maintain morale. ‘ Her demeanor betrayed nothing, but Schatten knew exactly what she meant by morale. From the knowing leers and winks that travelled around the table, the commanders knew what she meant too. Slaves. Had Reynkiin not been previously informed of what was coming, he wouldn’t have been surprised. Slaver-runs were common in the Valkyrate. ‘As you all know, morale has been problematic in the 2^nd Battalion, so these supplies will be welcome to see. ‘ Sanderson crossed her arms, and Schatten knew there was more to come, based on the shift in her body language.

‘3^rd Battalion’s commander will be on-site, doing a review of our status. No doubt Major Morgraine-Ryan will want to pit her unit against ours, so let me say this: in six days, all of you will have your Companies and Lances whipped into shape, or I swear to God heads will roll!’ Bodies shifted uncomfortably around the table: Schatten remained impassive. Petrov remained unconscious. ‘I want readiness reports, load-out and prep sheets on my desk within 72 hours!’ Sanderson became more and more agitated, as if her own reputation was on the line here. Perhaps it is, he thought to himself, but wisely didn’t say anything. ‘You all have your orders – dismissed!’ She then turned on Schatten, pointing an accusing finger. ‘Not you, Lieutenant. You stay here!’ She then turned to Petrov’s slumped form. ‘Get him out of here and cleaned up!’ Captain Bachmeier and Lieutenant Chu of 3^rd Company’s Fire Lance grabbed Petrov under his arms and quickly dragged him out of the room, followed by the others.

Major Sanderson waited until the door shut behind them before rounding on Schatten. Her fury had abated somewhat, but her eyes still glittered dangerously. ‘So, Lieutenant … an interesting outburst from Captain Petrov. Would you care to comment on it?’ Schatten removed his sunglasses unbidden and looked her straight in the face. ‘Petrov and Baker were lovers,’ he said. ‘That is how Recon Lance was able to fall apart so quickly – Petrov gave him free reign, and Baker sold most of the supplies allocated to Recon to support his KrayZee addiction.’ K-Z (or ‘KrayZee’ as it was popularly known) was an expensive and highly dangerous depressant. Those addicted to it were known for their massive and destructive mood swings. ‘Baker was addicted to KrayZee? ’ Sanderson sighed wearily, rubbing the palms of her hands over her face. ‘Gottverdammte… and no-one in Recon didn’t say anything?’ He heard the unspoken accusation – why didn’t you say something? To this, Schatten smirked. ‘You’ve seen Petrov in action, I trust. Anyone who criticized his love interest generally didn’t last long, Major.’ She dropped her hands to the table. ‘So… did you and the Lieutenant…?’ she left the question hanging. ‘Major, of course we did. He found me attractive – far more than that wurm Petrov. Of course, I wasn’t Baker’s only lover on the side.’ Schatten almost smiled at the unease he saw in Sanderson’s eyes. Well, she did ask… ‘KrayZee addiction or no, he was quite... voracious in his appetites. I seriously doubt that Petrov, with all his weight, could keep up –‘ She raised her hands in a supplicating gesture. ‘Lieutenant, I’ve heard quite enough!’ He stopped, but inwardly he was pleased at her discomfort. You hypocrite, he thought, since your own list of lovers, dead or alive, is a lot bigger than mine! He said nothing however.

‘So, you and Lieutenant Baker were… involved… and that infuriated Captain Petrov.’ Sanderson recounted, as delicately as she could. ‘Surely Petrov would have had you killed for that?’ Schatten nodded. ‘Oh, I’ve been attacked more than once since Baker and I began sleeping together –‘ and was again gratified at the discomfort he saw, ‘-but I can take care of myself… and to keep his cronies away from my ‘Mech, I’ve been able to offer the guards some excellent… incentives… to keep a careful weather eye.’ Sanderson rubbed her face again, and Schatten grinned while she wasn’t looking. He hadn’t slept with any of the hanger guards – his bribes were purely supplies and tobacco (and careful plays on his reputation) – but he couldn’t resist planting the thought of what those incentives might be. When she dropped her hands again, his face was impassive. Sanderson looked at him in uncomfortable silence for a moment, and then asked bluntly, ‘Did you have Lieutenant Baker killed?’ Schatten cocked his head to one side. ‘If I said no, would you believe me?’ He held up a hand to forestall her response. ‘Major, consider that, with the death of Lieutenant Baker I now directly report to his spurned lover, who is well-known for his violence. I have inherited a Lance that is in utter shambles, with very little time or an available supply reserve to improve before the 3rd arrives, which will delight Petrov to no end. If I wanted to sleep and kill my way ‘to the top’, it certainly wouldn’t be in this unit.’ All of this was very true. The headaches, not to mention threats to his life, would certainly increase exponentially now. Some would wonder why, with everything I just mentioned, I’d kill him anyway. Which made him the perfect target.

Major Sanderson stood to her feet. ‘Very well, Lieutenant Schatten, you have convinced me. I want a copy of that readiness report that Petrov demanded before he gets it. I will also do what I can to get some additional supplies to Recon, in line with your recommendations.’ She jerked her head at the door. ‘You are dismissed.’ He stood to his feet and inclined his head toward Sanderson. ‘Thank you Major. It shall be as you say.’ He then turned and walked to the door. ‘Lieutenant –‘ he turned back to look at her. ‘You had best watch your back,’ she said. ‘I like you – I’m not sure why, but I do – but there’s only so much I can do to protect you, should Petrov decide to come after you.’ Schatten considered for a moment, then nodded. ‘A good day to you, Major.’ He then stepped out the door, and shut it behind him. This room had nothing more than a couple of chairs scattered about and doors leading to other parts of the base. He was alone. As he walked across the room to another door, Schatten said to himself, ‘Well, that certainly went well.’ He grinned – a very dangerous smile.

Edited by VEDRFOLNIR, 03 December 2011 - 07:10 AM.

[godzofwar]

I like what I've read I'd like to see more. Curious to see what happens in chapter three.

[VEDRFOLNIR]

Dead of Winter

Part the Third

Akersley Highlands
Erewhon
Greater Valkyrate
August 12th, 2047

Reynkiin Daalmarch leaned back in his command chair while outside his cockpit, the ever-present wind howled. His neuroimpulse helmet pressed close around his head, with the visor pushed up. He sipped from his thermos, grimaced, and then set the silver cylinder back on its’ hot-plate. Soycaf, he thought dourly, is truly hideous, though you’d think I’d be used to it by now. Coffee was a luxury beyond price in the Greater Valkyrate.

Reynkiin reached a gloved hand up and swung the visor back into place with a barely audible click. Immediately he was presented with a HUD display as the neuroimpulse helmet displayed his Assassin’s status on the visor’s interior glass. He glanced at the HUD display and focused on the softly glowing indicator marked WEATHER. The helmet’s computer detected his eye-movements, and in moments the indicator’s glow changed from red to green. Reading the information that appeared, Reynkiin couldn’t help but shiver. It’s as cold as Thrymheim’s courtyard, he thought, and only Skadi would find this weather agreeable. With winds gusting from the north at over forty miles an hour, the temperature hovered at negative fifteen degrees. Fortunately, the cockpit was well-insulated against such extreme weather, and the 280 VOX fusion reactor powering his ‘Mech had ample heat to spare.

On top of the center console lay Reynkiin’s ever-present PadCom. Snaking from the I/O jack was a black cord that plugged into the center console’s small rack of expansion plugs. Its’ flatscreen was alive with diagnostic information as the device’s CPU interfaced with the Assassin’s Garret T15B communications system, though right now there wasn’t anything being transmitted or received. As part of this latest exercise, Reynkiin (as Schatten) had ordered a communications blackout until a specific event occurred. This event was what everyone was waiting for.

In the two days since Reynkiin received his promotion, the Recon Lance of 1^st Company had seen a mad flurry of activity. First, Schatten had put in an appearance to the other MechWarriors of Recon, announcing his promotion by orders of Major Sanderson. Scuttlebutt being what it was, everyone knew of Captain Petrov’s antagonism concerning Schatten and Lieutenant Baker, so needless to say, Schatten’s lancemates were quite amazed that he was still alive, let alone promoted.

Then there were all the repairs needed. Under Lieutenant Baker’s command, Recon had suffered a critical lack of spare parts and ammunition; mute testimony to the Lieutenant’s expensive KZ habit. The Technical crew who performed the initial status check were horrified at the lance’s condition, and had quickly compiled a scathing report of Baker’s neglect. Schatten had given the report to Major Sanderson in-person, and had been very pleased at the excruciating ‘review’ the Major had given to Captain Petrov. Since he had been invited to the meeting between Major and Captain, Schatten hadn’t needed to rely on gossip.

He later recounted (with considerable relish) about how purple-faced Captain Petrov had been, throwing furious but impotent glares at his new Lieutenant as Major Sanderson threatened to demote Petrov down to munitions-hauling in a J-27 Ordinance Transport. ‘He was so furious!’ Schatten said with glee to the astonishment of his lancemates. ‘His callsign should be Plum Gesicht!’ He had laughed along with them, all the while knowing that MechWarriors would begin calling Petrov Plum-Face behind his back in short order. Schatten was pleased.

Indeed, when the small convoy of J-27s trundled into the cavernous underground hanger maintaining Recon’s BattleMechs eight hours later, Captain Petrov was riding in the front transport. This led to all manner of barely-contained mirth. ‘I have brought you,’ Petrov said in barely-contained outrage, ‘your needed supplies.’ His Russian accent was so thick that it was almost impossible to understand, but Schatten nodded and said, with as much gracefulness as he could, ‘Thank you Captain. We’ll implement these repairs right away.’ He did make a point of staring at Petrov’s red and swollen nose. Petrov had turned and stalked away, muttering under his breath while the AsTechs began their feverish work.

Within a minute or so, however, he returned with an Oriental man following. ‘This is Takahashi Yurida,’ he said, ‘who will be your replacement in the Lance.’ Yurida had been watching Schatten with an empty expression, and he immediately recognized the effort of someone trying very hard to keep their emotions under control. One of Petrov’s spies… or assassins. ‘Yurida,’ Schatten had said, ‘welcome to Recon.’ Yurida had nodded, but said nothing.

His comm panel beeped, breaking Reynkiin of his reverie. ‘Lightning 1, this is 4. I’m in position and target is sighted, over.’ Samantha Addams’ voice came through clearly, though there was an undertone of static. Communications over encrypted channels generally had slightly poorer quality due to the protocols involved that made it harder for an enemy force to pick up the transmission. ‘Lightning 4, this is 1. Copy that. Targeting uplink in 30 seconds, over. Stand by, and keep your head down until you get the signal, over.’ Addams’ voice was quick to respond. ‘Wilco, 1, standing by with my head down.’

Reynkiin nodded to himself, and then clicked over to the Lance com-channel. ‘Recon, this is Lightning 1. Confirm position and coordinates, over.’ There was a moment’s pause, then Ansem said, ‘Lightning 1, this is 3. My position is right next to you, over.’ Reynkiin had to smile; Patrick Ansem’s humor was charming in that “I-don’t-take-myself-very-seriously” manner, and it was true that Reynkiin could actually look out his side view-screen and see Ansem’s Valkyre standing just 30 meters away from him, motionless in the howling wind and snow. ‘Now, now, MechWarrior Ansem, you know the drill. Ping me, if you would.’ Ansem’s voice returned, soundly amused, ‘Lightning 1, this is 3. Pinging now.’

Reynkiin looked at his primary cockpit screen, which was showing a graphical view of the area’s topography. His own Assassin was represented as a glowing blue arrow, tagged LGN1. Ansem’s “ping” consisted of coded position information, which was received by the Garret T15B comgear and relayed over to the Garrett 500S Targeting and Tracking system. The T&T crunched the numbers, and a millisecond later, Ansem’s Valkyre appeared as another blue arrow, tagged LGN4, just 30 meters away. ‘Lightning 1, this is 2. Pinging now.’ Yurida’s voice was flat and emotionless, and Reynkiin knew it wasn’t because of the encryption. Since Yurida was assigned to Recon, Reynkiin had studied the former DCMS soldier, using his resources to build a profile as complete as Ansem’s and Addams were. What he had found so far confirmed his initial suspicions of his ties to Captain Petrov. Yurida’s Panther appeared as another blue arrow, 150 meters forward of his position. Finally, Addams replied, ‘Lightning 1, this is 4. Pinging now.’ Her Firestarter’s blue arrow tag appeared on the map, about 300 meters away, on the other side of Yurida.

Reynkiin looked at the display and nodded again. In position as ordered. Not bad, not bad at all. His appreciation for Recon’s abilities was dampened by the knowledge of what was coming. It’s a shame actually. Ansem and Addams aren’t bad people. Then Schatten smirked. Oh yes, he thought, they’re not bad people – they’re only pirates! I’m sure they only massacred those innocents on New Caledonia last year because they’re just misunderstood! Reynkiin started – he had forgotten all about that raid. ‘Lightning, this is 1,’ he said, feeling suddenly uneasy and not knowing why, ‘Pings received. After you receive your uplink confirm, go active. I repeat, go active. Copy.’ Reynkiin received three “Wilco’s” and then reached over and picked up his PadCom. He thumbed the display, which changed to mimic the main viewer’s tactical map. He pressed a glowing button marked “UPLINK” which shifted from blue to green.

The PadCom instructed the Assassin’s T&T system to link up with the other three BattleMechs. It also transmitted a packet of code to each ‘Mech that wouldn’t appear on any display. It was a complex packet, designed by MIMIR’s Communications and Signals division; it was also very good at its’ intended function, and keeping itself hidden in a targeted system until needed.

After a few seconds, the blue arrows on his screen were connected by thin gold lines. The arrows also began to pulse, showing their status changing from “stand-by” to “active”. Reynkiin did the same, feeling the sub-harmonic vibrations increase as the Assassin’s fusion reactor “spun up” to full power. A new indicator also appeared, about 120 meters from Addams’ Firestarter. It pulsed red, and the Assassin’s Warbook program superimposed an ARCR tag – an ARC-2R Archer. Reynkiin thought, Interesting choice. The Archer was a common Inner Sphere design, designed for indirect fire-support and bombardment of enemy fortifications.

Three out of four ‘Mechs in Reynkiin’s lance carried missiles – either short or long ranged designs. The three Tracking and Targeting systems crunched numbers at speeds only a computer could perform, and within a split second after "going active", a tone sounded in Reynkiin’s Neuroimpulse helmet, indicating a tentative lock-on. ‘Lightning Lance,’ he broadcast, ‘fire for effect, now! Now! Now!’ He then pulled the LRM trigger on his right-hand joystick. The Assassin shook slightly as five contrails suddenly appeared from the ‘Mech’s right side and arced up over the ridgeline. 30 meters away, Ansem’s Valkyre released a torrent of 20 LRMs that roared away on the same trajectory. On his HUD, Reynkiin could see the telemetry of the twenty-five LRMs arching toward the target in blue lines; these were quickly joined by six SRMs from Yurida’s Panther. They quickly reached the target, and over the external microphones Reynkiin could hear the faint staccato of exploding munitions.

A new indicator appeared on the display – a yellow triangle, only 90 meters from the target. This information was quickly shared with all the ‘Mechs in the lance. ‘Lightning 1 to Lance, advance to new coordinates as specified in your HUD.’ Reynkiin then pushed down against the floor pedals with his feet, and suddenly he was smashed back into his seat as the Assassin thundered into the sky.

Reynkiin loved his Assassin for a number of reasons – its’ impressive Jump capability was one of them. The 45-ton machine arced over the ridgeline, and he could see the vast expanse of the Foothills stretching away, covered in driving snow. Up ahead, Reynkiin could see black smoke – aftermath of the missile attack.

He feathered the ‘Mech’s Jump Jets, flattening the arc to get the maximum distance. The Assassin, despite its’ heavier weight, had the longest Jump distance in the Lance – but the rendezvous point was at the bleeding edge of his jump range. Nonetheless, he landed directly on the coordinates specified in his HUD, the Assassin bending its’ knees to absorb the shock. Reynkiin was jostled about and crammed back into his command chair again for a moment. A few seconds later, the rest of the Lance joined him.
In front of them, smoldering in the sub-zero temperatures, was the remains of an ancient groundcar – blasted to smithereens by the indirect missile attack. He could see pockmarks in the snow, showing near-misses scattered around the wreck. Reynkiin toggled the Lance com-channel. ‘Well lady and gentlemen, that concludes our Targeting and Tracking check and our last shake-down and live-fire exercise. I’ll have a complete follow-up report for our illustrious Captain –‘ he grinned at the restrained chuckling over the channel – ‘and we can now return to base.’

۞ ۞ ۞

Reynkiin did not stand before the door to Captain Petrov’s office – Schatten did, complete with his reflective sunglasses, which he fiddled with for a moment, before donning them. I wonder if I’m interrupting anything… he grinned. He rapped on the door loudly. ‘Come in!’ Petrov yelled, his voice muffled by the door. Schatten pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

Captain Petrov looked up from behind a large desk, covered in papers, foodstuff wrappers and other debris. His eyes narrowed in barely-restrained anger. Schatten sat a sheaf of papers bound in a leather folder on his desk without further preamble. ‘The post-repair after-action reports, as you requested Captain.’ Petrov looked at the leather bundle as if it was some sort of disgusting animal. ‘I assume,’ he said nastily, ‘that Major Sanderson has a copy of this report, as she has all the others you’ve generated?’ Schatten cocked his head to one side, his smile never wavering.

Petrov threw up his hands. ‘Never mind! I’ll attend to it. You’re dismissed.’ Schatten nodded slightly, and turned to go. ‘You think I cannot touch you, since you’re Sanderson’s favorite?’ Petrov snarled as Schatten opened the office door. He turned back to the furious Petrov. ‘Why would I want a schweinigel like you touching me? God knows Baker didn’t.’ He slammed the door on Petrov’s inarticulate roar.

Schatten took two steps back, and crossed his arms as the sounds of Petrov hauling his girth out of his chair – it sounded much like an Odessan Raxx in a glassware store. A moment later, the door flew open. Petrov started seeing Schatten standing there, but caught himself by grabbing onto the doorframe. Schatten stared at him, still with that maddening grin. ‘Make no mistake Petrov,’ Schatten said tonelessly, ‘while Major Sanderson insists that we get along, if you make a move against me – I will crush you.' He took a step forward toward Petrov, whose eyes grew wider and wider. ‘Baker told me all sorts of things about you. It was information easy to get while strung out on KZ – especially the fun little variant he… discovered… while we were together.’ Petrov’s face, which had been getting redder and redder, suddenly went pale. ‘You… you vurdalak.’ It all suddenly came together. ‘You fed him KZ… made his addiction even worse.’ Schatten felt his grin widen. ‘KrayZee addicts have an extremely high suicide rate, didn’t you know that Petrov? They're also quite talkative. Even the regular recipe plays havoc with their emotional states. What Baker took… well…’ He left the rest unsaid, but it was enough. Petrov took a step back, and Schatten could see the first twinges of fear in the Russian’s eyes. ‘Cross me, and I will come for you. Otherwise, I will be the enthusiastic Lieutenant you need me to be.’

Schatten turned and took several steps down the corridor, then stopped. ‘Oh, one more thing,’ he said without turning, knowing that Petrov was still listening, ‘If anything should happen to me – an accident, of course – there are those who despise you as much as I. I’ve talked to them. A lot.’ He then continued walking down the corridor.

When he rounded the corner, he reached up and pressed a small stud on the sunglasses’ frame. Best to keep that little ability to a minimum. Schatten sighed, a sound of contentment. All was going nicely. Very nicely.

Edited by VEDRFOLNIR, 26 December 2011 - 08:38 PM.

[godzofwar]

cool please keep it going

[VEDRFOLNIR]

godzofwar, on 16 December 2011 - 01:27 PM, said:

cool please keep it going

Thanks. Chapter 3 was damned tough because of all the technical stuff I had to include. Fortunately, the next chapters won't need to be, since the techno-stuff is now described and introduced.

[MechWarrior4Lover]

You said nonetheless twice in two sentences. Please fix it if you can.

[VEDRFOLNIR]

MechWarrior4Lover, on 24 December 2011 - 12:10 PM, said:

You said nonetheless twice in two sentences. Please fix it if you can.

Done. Thanks!