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August 10th, 4 A.B.T. (After Battle of Tukayyid)
The Sobbing Maid had the dubious distinction of being the cheapest, darkest, and smelliest bar on the entire planet. It was also the only drinking establishment that sold Capellan vodka and scotch. Therefore, the Sobbing Maid was were you could find most members of the 4th Tau Ceti Rangers when they weren't on duty. A few nights ago, I had asked Major Temujin if we should be worried about poison in our drinks. We were an invasion force after all. When he was done laughing he clapped me on the shoulder and said "Listen here, this planet has changed hands so many times the residents don't even bother to use the flagpole on feckin' the capital building. Besides, if the bartender was stupid enough to slip something in our drinks, it would probably just improve the taste!"
I walked inside the Sobbing Maid and blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the interior. When my vision adjusted, I headed towards the bar, doing my best to ignore peeling sound my boots made as they unstuck themselves from the floor. I quickly ordered a glass of scotch and dropped a few crumpled C-bills on the bartop. It was the opinion of the entire unit that the bar intentionally kept the place smelling like an ashtray full of piss so that patrons would order the stiffest drinks possible, then at least while the glass was pressed to your lips the smell of alcohol could provide you a bit of relief.
I looked around and spotted the members of my lance huddled around a small table by the left wall. Angus McIndo, or Chafe as he was more commonly known, waved me over. As I sat down, he dealt me a hand of cards. "Alright chaps, now that our esteemed Lyran comrade has joined us, we can begin taking his money as well." I pulled out a few more C-bills and tossed them into the pot. "You know it's hardly fair for us to be playing against someone who can send us to the gulag." I said, jabbing a thumb towards Yusef Starfall. Our "GI Journalist" as we affectionately called him, laughed and admired his hand. "None of you have been able to prove I'm Maskirovka yet, and I promise that the cameras I've installed here are for security rather than cheating at cards. If you should worry about anyone it's Palorrin, he's the resident psychic." Palorrin snorted in disgust and tossed his cards away. "If I could've predicted the sht hand you were going to deal me Chafe, I'd waste my money on something productive like another round of this paint thinner they call vodka. At least then I could tolerate Bill's accent butchering our native tongue."
I rolled my eyes and cursed the diseased womb Palorrin crawled out of in fluent Mandarin, before seeing the wad of C-bills Chafe used to raise the pot and instead joined GI in wishing him a lifetime of shriveled testes and ugly women in his bed as we both folded. After raking in his spoils, Chafe started shuffling the cards while we grumbled about keeping an eye on his sleeves. "I heard the Tikonov Commonality Armed Forces are leaving us with garrison duty while they push on towards Elnath." he said as he dealt out new hands to everybody. "They certainly have the numbers for it." I said. "Forget Elnath," said GI, "I heard another planet in the Fort Wyatt sector was taken." A shiver ran up my spine. Despite the loyalty I felt and the debt I owed to the 4thTCR, I was still a Lyran citizen and the idea of another Steiner planet under Jade Falcon control made my blood run cold.
Perhaps noticing my discomfort, Palorrin quickly interjected, "Well IF that is true, the 12th Donegal probably made the Falcon's pay for every inch of it, they turned that whole sector into a meat-grinder. Not bad for a bunch of social-generals eh?" The old and semi-true joke about the Lyran top brass brought a smile to my face, though the 3 Starlords in my hand backed up by a pair of Archons kept it there. A few hours and several drinks later, the four of us stumbled back towards the base. While poorer in brain cells I was much richer in C-bills and for a time, being a few thousand lightyears from home in a universe wracked by war wasn't all that bad.
Planet Corey
August 21st, 4 A.B.T.
"They're pushing onto the airstrip, don't let them get those Catapults across the river!"
"I have visual...target locked! Fire, fire, fire!"
"DIRTY DAVION SONSABITCHES!!"
I slammed the foot-pedals down and super heated plasma erupted from the legs of my Enforcer-4R, propelling me up and away from my previous position. Moments later, several flights of LRMs slammed into the area, cratering the street and blasting out what few windows remained in the buildings. "We may wanna relocate Chafe, property values on this neighborhood are dropping fast." My comms crackled to life as Chafe responded. "No can do, Bill. Colonel says our lance is anchoring the company's left flank, and the company is anchoring the battalion's left flank, and so on. In other words, if we crumble, the whole lot crumbles." Leveling my sights on an overly ambitious Musketeer, I fired my PPC the second I had a lock. The cerulean beam slammed into the metal skirt of the hover tank and blasted away its forward fan. The 50-ton tank flipped through the air like it was made of cardboard and crashed into the river. Laser fire converged on my position and I blind fired my UAC/5 in the general direction of my tormentors as I backed of behind cover.
"Tell Colonel Ork if we don't get some support, we're gonna have to fall back anchor or-" Palorrin's transmission was cut short as his Thunderolt-9SEC was hit by a wave of autocannon fire, the explosions blossoming like angry red flowers from his chest. Before I could ask if he was alright, a steady stream of almost poetic vitriol poured across the comms, assuring me of Palorrin's continued health. "Clear comms Palorrin, we have incoming from Command." said GI in his Raven-3LC. The voice of Lt. Colonel Vandril came in clear as a bell, GI's skill at ECM warfare cutting through whatever jamming the Davions might attempt. "Listen up people, we've pushed back the assault on the airstrip and the Davions are retreating on the right flank. Gorgo, get your fatties to push their center. Chafe, pull your men back by degrees. Just one more push and they'll realize they're about to be cut off from their DropShips. Alright Rangers, let's do this!"
Planet Corey
August 23rd, 4 A.B.T.
I sat on the foot of my Mech and watched the sun go down. Despite being cut off from their DropShips, the Davions had rallied and pushed through a gap in our lines to link back up with their ride home. We had scored some decent salvage and despite the ferocity of the Davion raid, our casualties were pretty light all things considered. I looked up at my Mech and grinned, the battle had scoured away almost all of the urban camouflage paint and the symbol of House Liao, but a large square of brown and gold checkerboard bisected by a defiant stripe of Lyran blue remained intact on left thigh. "Well now...don't that just sum it up rather nicely?" I said as I stood up and wandered towards the direction of the Sobbing Maid.
Edited by Bill Bullet, 10 August 2015 - 07:15 AM.
