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[Blair]

The Serpent and the Soldier

-= 1 =-

Skippy's Fern Bar
Solaris VII, Federated Commonwealth
June 15, 3049
0320 Hours

Done stacking the last of the chairs and cleaning the last of the mugs, Blair sat alone at the edge of the bar in an unusually foul mood. Business had been brisk for a Thursday night, Silesia Sector's recent "Thursday Night Fights" had turned out to be a big draw. "Frisky" Frank Jimenez had managed to pilot his Grasshopper to best "Captain Jack" Tulane, turning his well-known and well-feared Stalker, Furnace, into one. The upset cost quite a few people quite a few c-bills. Despite having come out ahead on that bet, Blair couldn't shake a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach.

As the saloon doors swung open, Blair quickly realized why. Doffing an olive green cap, a stern faced man with hard blue eyes scanned the empty bar, long trained to assess a room's potential threats before proceeding. The man was the kind of tall that impressed women, but didn't intimidate men; in impeccable shape despite being being at least ten years Blair's senior, and possessing an air of authority that is earned from more than just leading from behind a desk.

"Kommandant Kolb. I gotta say, I never expected to see you again. Not after Trellisane." Without looking up, Blair downed the rest of his drink, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Kolb, sauntering past some booths, slides a finger to collect dust, like a surly drill sergeant."Colonel, I have to say, the civilian life ... it doesn't suit you."

"It suits my life expectancy just fine." Blair retorted. "What brings you back to Solaris? And don't say it's my PPCs. Everyone knows I can't mix for bunk."

The Kommandant laughed dryly, nodding. "It is your life I am here for. Yours, and the lives of potentially the whole of the Commonwealth." The laughter drained from his eyes, leaving only that stark stare. "By the order of Marshall Grissom Miller of the Department of Mercenary Relations", Kolb began, pulling a data pad out from his breast pocket, "I am hereby re-instituting your contract."

Blair quickly scanned over the datapad, and clicked his teeth with his tongue. "Remind me to have a talk with my lawyer." Blair chuckled in spite of himself. "I do hope you know what you're paying for. My team has been disbanded for a long time. All you're getting is me."

"Do not sell yourself short, Colonel." Kolb drew in a breath and raised his shoulders, giving him an even more impressive silhouette. "Besides, we have a team waiting for you."

Blair cocked his head to the side. "Waiting where, exactly?"

"New Ivaarsen, Colonel. We believe the Dragon has awoken."

Edited by Blair, 25 November 2012 - 12:14 PM.

[Blair]

-= 2 =-

Stephenson Steppes
New Ivaarsen, Federated Commonwealth
April 8, 3050
1630 Hours

Streams of sweat ran through the canals of Blair's battle-worn face. Heat poured into the cockpit of his Awesome as he blinked away the drops pooling on his eyelids, and loosed a trio of lasers at the Stalker bearing down on him,

"Sheath, this is Swordsman Actual, get me air support now!" Blair throttled back hard, the massive weight of his 'Mech being held up purely by the force of will provided by the connection his Neuohelmet provided, using his brains natural sense of gravity to keep the massive assault-class 'Mech upright. He turned behind a blasted boulder, which offered a quantum of protection to his battered armor as he cooled.

"Actual, we have AeroSpace fighters inbound, on your mark." Blair's Awesome lurched forward, and he spun his torso hard right, so he could get the Draconis Stalker back into his sights. Flipping a switch on his command console, he launched a tiny canister, from which a red stream of smoke quickly started to rise. It wasn't the most subtle of methods, but Blair knew the Stalker wouldn't be able to get out of the strike range in time.

Nearly instantly, a hail of missiles began to rain down, and the Stalker shuddered under the weight of the onslaught. Sensing his opportunity, Blair squeezed the trigger on his control joystick, and a shock of azure light lashed out from his Particle Projector Cannon. Molten armor sloughed off the Draconis 'Mech as it stumbled backwards, trying to escape the crucible of fire it suddenly found itself under.

Three jade beams lanced out as Blair fired again, medium lasers following up where the PPC first struck. A fresh wave of heat steamed into the cockpit as the heat sinks struggled to keep up. "Heat level: Critical". The cool voice of the computer belied the stifling amount of heat.

"Thank you, Betty, for the insight" Blair coughed a chuckle, and pressed forward. The Stalker's armor was gone now in it's center, exposing the structural skeleton that protected the machine's massive fusion reactor. The AeroSpace fighters were out of range now, but Blair had more missiles of his own. Three SRM-6's launched at once, and nearly two dozen rounds streaked through the gap separating the two metal mammoths. Several pelted the ground around the Stalker, while others struck true, boring a hole deep within the belly of the beast. Sparks began to bounce through the 'Mech, and it suddenly jerked forward violently. Blair peddled back to safe distance as internal explosions rocked his foe, and the Stalker finally succumbed to its damage, and crumpled to the trodden dirt below.

Blair took a deep breath as he surveyed the landscape around him.

His lance had given much better than they'd gotten. The lone remaining Draconis 'Mech, a Dragon, was in full retreat, being pursued by a Commando and a Hunchback, both with barely any damage visible. The Catapult who had been providing fire support from the ridge behind him was in a bit worse shape, it's right ear sheared off by an enemy Autocannon.

All things considered, it could have been much worse, Blair thought. Our pay for this contract will make up for repairs tenfold.

After nearly nine months of fighting skirmishes, holding actions, raids, and the occasional slugfest, the battle for New Ivaarsen ended not with a climactic clash, but a small engagement in the middle of nowhere. But after nearly three decades as a MechWarrior, Blair was long past such notions as glory, or the grand clashes that make for such good holovids. No, the truth of it was that battles were long, bloody, and left you wondering just what all of it was for.

"All units, this is Swordsman Actual." Blair pushed those thoughts out of his mind, and refocused himself to the task at hand. There's always work to be done. "Back to the barn. Let that Drac get back home to tell his friends the Obsidian Swordsmen own this rock."

A chorus of "Roger that" trickled in as the lance circled back towards the dropship. Already, a crew of technicians were riding out to pick up what could be salvaged from the battlefield.

Blair looked out at the wreckage once more before turning back for home. Waste not, want not - that's the life of a Merc.