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[Oni Storm]

Foreward

Oct 20th 2780
Hall outside of the Lords Council Chamber; Unity City, Terra

The deliberations and proceedings had ended less than twenty four hours ago and yet all the Lords of the Great Houses were already gone and the building returned once more to a mere shadow of it's former glory. The tapestries and heraldry were being removed from the walls for storage and safe keeping. In another day or two the crews would have the Chambers stripped bare and moved so the reconstruction would renew. Lieutenant General Julia Lyonesse stood there though, breathing it all in, every last detail even down to the crack in the wall before her and the tiny mouse that looked up at her as it scurried by. Her brain was special like that, only one in every trillion people born were lucky enough to have her special talent and it had served he well over the years, helping her unprecedented rise through the ranks. Now though, now she wondered if it had been a blessing or a curse? In hindsight she wondered if maybe she should have held back more, maybe then she's have stayed off General DeChevilier's radar. She scoffed at the notion, almost laughing at the stupidity of that thought. No she had wanted the attention, the fancy parties, the intrigue, the lime life, the acknowledgement that she was a "someone" and "really mattered." That was why she did it and why she jumped at the chance to be his aide for the some twenty years now.

It had started out bright lights and caviar, then thanks to Amaris, everything became so serious and militarily geared, but this? How did this fall so far so fast? She saw the orders in her mind's eye again and was caught with that same sickening feeling all over. How? How could they do this? To resort to such tactics was barbaric and bordering on the path of Amaris and what Kerensky supposedly feared wasn't it? Wouldn't this be considered a grab for power or the power play he feared the Great Houses were vying for? The argument being that, we're the good guys because we are removing the playing pieces from the board. It was a weak and flimsy truth, but one she'd have to hang her hat on in order to get through this. (Very well then. The Generals want snatch and grabs, then we'll do our duty and pilfer the Periphery scientists, like the soldiers we are) After all it was simple enough wasn't it? Snatch as many scientists and techs from the Periphery and planets bordering it along their proposed five year trek. Horde them at the undisclosed location known only by the Admiral and await relief.

The fleet had already been assembled, some twenty ships equipped with the best special forces units the SLDF had to offer, a full 'Mech Division of the eighteenth Army's and a proposed landing site and infrastructure that should be ready to go when they got there. "Cake walk mission really" That's how Admiral Augustus put it when they talked briefly after the Generals meeting. Why then did she feel like this was the end and that this, this shambling wreck of once great splendor would be the closest and last visage of her future hopes and dreams made reality. She looked around one more time to take in all the sights and sounds, and smells. At least she'd have this to never forget, so she breathed and thought and opened her mind wide taking in the panoramics as she began the slow walk towards her waiting ship and towards the uncertain future that it awaited to whisk her off to.



August 29th 2781
Planet; Astrokazy
near the Magistracy of Canopus

Lieutenant General Julia Lyonesse watched as the Exterminators patrolled the streets waiting for the SLDF special, "Collectors" as many in the fleet had starting referring to them by, commandos swept the streets going from building to building and gathering up the last remnant people and cattle herding them towards the awaiting Fury Class Dropships, that were soon to be their prison home. (Three years is too too long for anyone, for it not to be considered a prison sentence and jail. Ironic how these ships that once brought the liberators of worlds, were now being used to enslave them. Quirky that?) she shrugged and breathed a heavy sigh (at least it would be over soon, then off to the next miserable site and even more bloodshed to unfold)

Looking up she saw another one of the "spotters" this one a Stinger Land and Air 'Mech, it's bright search light beaming off in the distance illuminating an alleyway from it's rooftop perch high above. Shouts came now and men went running off towards the spot, only to return a few moments later with two small children and what had to be their terrified mother, her cries and pleas falling on deaf ears. Julia watched as the sentinel jumped and then was joined by three other similar craft from various other buildings around the city and they slowly hovered and continued scanning the city to the south with another full company of "collectors" following close behind, their trucks and cattle-cars at the ready. With a heavy head and mind she, turned and headed off to towards her shuttlecraft once more to file her next report back aboard her flag.

Edited by Oni Storm, 16 October 2012 - 12:54 AM.

[Oni Storm]

Marauder Bill's
Galatea, Lyran Commonwealth
December 31st, 2330 hrs 3014

The infamous tavern known across the Inner Sphere simply as 'Marauder Bill's was crammed with party goers celebrating the oncoming new year. Bright neon lights competed with the holoprojectors displaying scenes from all over Galeata of fireworks and merry people celebrating in droves watching as ridiculously large clocks ticked off the final moments of the calendar year. [Think Times Square] The bar itself hosted standing room only, the peoples faces obscured by a thick pall of cigar, cig, and huka smoke. A ceiling fan lazily chopped through the haze slowly stirring it as people drunkenly bumped into one another or made out with their 'date' or 'friend' for the night. However, in a darkened corner of the establishment there sat a booth with a few men sitting around it and looking out upon the gathered masses. They eyeballed each other in contented satisfaction, knowing they had indeed chosen the right place and cover for their transactions.

They had planned this time and place for almost three months now, crowded, filled with revelers, loud enough so as to not be overheard. Each potential candidate hand picked and invited to this bar and New Years party so as to not attract too much attention from the undesirables. They had this down to a science and between tonight's proceeding and tomorrows finalists, they'd have their crew and be on their way. Finally a journey nearly twenty years in the making was about to get underway and become a reality.

The proprietor only known as "Wild Bill", thanked the gentleman quietly for their contributions and then slid his way out of booth and went back to his patrons, a smile half a mile long upon his face and covered by his thick red and white speckled beard and stash. Reno turned then and looked to Darc with a brief nod of his head at him, and the other man as well sank into the shadows to "mingle" with the crowd. Leaving just himself and Dr. Wilford Drake to conduct the interviews. Reno looked the man from Kallon Industries over once more, and couldn't help but wonder if they weren't both a little overdressed for the typical scene of down on their lucks. It was New Years however and one of the few times that everyone seemed to be in good cheer and mingled together from the lowest to highest, in the spirit of togetherness and hope of the things to come. Both men looked at their watches, the midnight hour was approaching and soon the first candidates would arrive.

Edited by Oni Storm, 01 November 2012 - 11:35 AM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Marauder Bill's
Galeata, Lyran Commonwealth
December 31st, 3014

The infamous tavern known across the Inner Sphere simply as 'Marauder Bill's was crammed with party goers celebrating the onecoming new year. Bright neon lights competed with the holoprojectors displaying scenes from all over Galeata of fireworks and merry people celebrating in droves watching as ridiciously large clocks ticked off the final moments of the calander year. [Think Times Square] The bar itself hosted standing room only, the peoples faces obscured by a thick pall of cigar, cig, and huka smoke. A ceiling fan lazily chopped throug the haze slowly stirring it as people drunkenly bumped into one another or made out with their 'date' or 'friend' for the night.

Through this pack of human sardines Sam stumbled, heading for what he thought was the restroom, only to find himself in a darkened corner of the establishment where a booth sat with a couple of men sitting around it.

Wait, this ain't the bathroom. Oh what the Hell I'll take a seat anyways..

It wasn't the bathroom, but he felt drawn to the lone seat before the booth and half stumbled, half fell into it. He smiled at the men who strangely seemed like they were expecting him. Oddly enough he instantly thought of the interview he had earlier in the week where he joined up with the small band known as Gray Death Legion.


"So Mr.-" the shouts and screams of a catfight breaking out drowned out his name. "What can you bring to the team?" Asked man #1.
"Well you know, the basics, really. I can shoot a rifle, I can fix things.. " Drunkenly he stared off into space. "Oh yeah and I can pilot a mech." The men seemed taken back by that last statement.

"What do you have to offer us that someone else can't?" Asked goon #2
"hic...Well's I know how to speak twelve languages. Hic! " He offered inbetween hiccups.

"12 languages, that's impressive, How far are you willing to go to get a new ride?" Back to #1
"A mech?" the drunken Lyran got a far off look on his face as he thought it over the pain of not being a mechwarrior.
"Far." He said simply "Very far."

"Aside from a 'Mech what do you personally think we need to do to achieve the goal of putting you back in a saddle again?" Goon 2 asked, he didn't understand the question.

"I'm not sure I understand the question." He took a pull from his Timburki Dark."I don't know, show me the mech."

"What other types of employees do you enjoy working worth?" Asked one of them, which one? He wasn't sure as shouts of HAPPY NEWYEAR! cut off the question. "Hic! I don't know.. the fun kind?" He stopped and began giggling at his own cleverness.

"If you were hiring for a recovery operation, what type of people would you look for?" Offered goon#2 "Well some combat techs would be nice, hic.. Damn.. you never know how long you'll have before someb-hic ugggh shows up wanting theirhic! mech's back." That answer seemed to please the two suits who nodded like Sam just offered drunken sagely advice.

"BABY THERE YOU ARE!!" A womans voice cried out as a raven haired girl stumbled into the little corner, falling on Sam's lap and nearly toppling the chair and both of them over with it. She wore a glittery pink midrif shirt dark purple with a skull with a pink bow on it. And a black and purplish-pink striped synthetic miniskirt rode up as her legs spread giving the two interviewers quite a show. One looked away, the other cocked his head to the side to get a better view.

Sam stood up suddenly, cradeling the drunken girl who was begining to nod off as he cradeled her.

"Hey guys. hic You mind if we finish this up later? HIC! I atake umm...Coral? on up to the room?" Sam smiled hopefully as the two men nodded yes.

"We'll see you tomorrow sometime Mr..." Sam was already taking uh... Candance? up to their room by the time the man finished the sentence.
A few minutes later, Sam was leaning heavily on the door trying to unlock the door with...Claire? dropped upon the floor when something dawned on him. A break in the drunken haze when he realised somthing. They were calling him 'Mr. Malvern."

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 10 October 2012 - 10:40 AM.

[Aegis Fate]

Marauder Bill's
Galeata, Lyran Commonwealth
December 31st, 3014, 23:50

The infamous tavern known across the Inner Sphere simply as 'Marauder Bill's was crammed with party goers celebrating the oncoming new year. Bright neon lights competed with the holoprojectors displaying scenes from all over Galeata of fireworks and merry people celebrating in droves watching as ridiculously large clocks ticked off the final moments of the calender year. The bar itself hosted standing room only, the peoples faces obscured by constant movement and numerous unknown narcotics, legal or illegal. She pushed through the crowd, looking for the single dark corner with the future payment and promises of riches. She sat down squarely in the center of the booth opposite of her potential employers, a sort of smug satisfaction on her face.
They greeted her, addressing her by her current name, briefly sizing up her disheveled appearance.
'So........ What's the job?' she asked, her voice a sort of curious albeit mocking tone, obviously to downplay her other attributes
'What can you bring to the team?' one of the mysterious men asked, ignorant of her previous question.
'Mech experience, a grand total of a couple of years before I lost my Cat,' she replied, attempting to keep a cool head, running the starting demeanor carefully, the mocking tone slightly combined with irritation.
'What do you have to offer us that someone else can't?' the other man asked this time, tone still the same as his fellow interviewer.
'I played support, so I'm used to riding ***** to everyone else, especially when I'm ***** at a kilometers length. Now tell me what the job is?' she continued to pursue the original conversation, becoming visibly irritated at the prospect of being ignored.
'How far are you willing to go to get a new ride?' the first man asked again.
'I'm willing to do any damn thing in the galaxy if you'd just tell me what the job was!' This time she rose, slamming her fist into the table, anger flowing across her face.
'If you were hiring for a recovery operation, what type of people would you look for?'
'I'd hire some bloody tech specialists and maybe a linguistics expert along with some ******** mercs to guard the loot! So tell me what the job is you son of a *****!'
'Then you'll be glad to know the job is a recovery operation, nothing more.' The man finally relented, although as if the entire conversation was planned.
'Then I will be on my damn way!' she yelled as she stormed out from the booth, angered at the entire exchange and the complete and utter denial of her potential glory.
'Thank you, Ilia Sharde for your time,' spoke gently the second man, as if expecting the entire exchange.

[Sparks Murphey]

Marauder Bill's
Galeata, Lyran Commonwealth
December 31st, 3014, 23:55

Eisuke watched the drunk stagger upstairs with disgust. Such a lack of discipline. Hopefully the interviewers saw what Eisuke saw and rejected him. Men who spent their time poisoning their minds had no place behind the controls of a BattleMech.

With careful, purposeful steps, Eisuke walked to the table and sat down.

“Mr...Sato?” the first man asked, looking at a sheet of paper in front of him, “Welcome. I’d like to start by asking what you feel you’d contribute to the team?”

“I can pilot a BattleMech. I have advanced training in hand-to-hand combat, specialising in blades. I graduated with honours from the Sun Zhang Military Academy, so I can provide the tactics and strategy to best employ such skills as well as simply be the meat to use them.”

“What do you have to offer us that someone else can’t?” the second man asked

Eisuke ground his teeth together. “Got a lot of ex-Sun Zhang dispossessed on that list?” he asked.

“Uh...no, I suppose not. How far are you willing to go to get a BattleMech?”

Eisuke carefully locked eyes with the second man. “I’d be willing to sacrifice any life. Even mine.”

The second man glanced away, as the first resumed the questioning. “Aside from a ‘Mech what do you personally think we need to do to achieve the goal of putting you back in a saddle again?”

“Find someone to honourably use that ‘Mech against. Or take it from. Either would work.”

“What other types of employees do you enjoy working with?”

Eisuke glanced up the stairs where the drunk had taken his date. “Those committed to the goal, not wasting time on petty distractions.”

“If you were hiring for a recovery operation, what type of people would you look for?”

Eisuke ticked things off on his fingers as he counted. “I’d have a pilot capable of operating the target, a transport vehicle crew capable of moving the target. A negotiator to deal with local authorities or power, legitimate or not, and some hired guns to deal with any power that decided to ignore our negotiator.”

“Alright,” the first man said with a nod, “Thank you for your time, Eisuke Sato-Kurita. We’ll be in touch.”

Eisuke stepped away from the table. He wasn’t quite sure what had rattled him more, the fact that they called him Kurita or that they knew his full name in the first place.

[Oni Storm]

Marauder Bill's
Galatea, Lyran Commonwealth
December 31st, 3014, 23:55

As Ilia Sharde made her way through the crowd of people in a huff and storming manner towards the the door, Darc received a small four word text. With lighting quick reflexes he swam through the crowd towards his target, with determination and a fixed gaze that made even the staunchest drunk get out of the way of what must obviously be security. Darc closed and waited, any second now it would be perfect. Then there it was "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" and he struck.


Marauder Bill's
Galatea, Lyran Commonwealth
December 31st, 3014, 00:00 - 00:15

Ilia never felt it coming, but then with all the merriment and jostling around of bodies, few people in her situation ever would. The small tip hit her wrist and quickly absorbed into her bloodstream, the poison working it's way to her head and the toxicity working it's magic. Ilia Sharde, stern determined and pissed, was suddenly calm, mellow, and felt as if she were floating off to cloud nine, her feet refusing to budge except in waves of dribbling jello. Her eyes fluttered rapidly for the briefest of seconds and then went wide as the colors and hues of the bar and strobing lights decreed that she shut her eyes in order to avoid the bright burn.

Darc swooped in and scooped the girl up in his arms. "Make way!! Make way clear a path!! This woman needs air. MOVE!!" with that he whisked her out onto the street and to an awaiting ambulance, it EMTs waiting at the sides as was normal for New Years parties. He handed the poor Ilia Sharde over to the two and helped then get her up into the back. Darc then return to the frivolities and revelry of the inside, looking at the text again "Get us that one." before replying with his own "One down." He smiled then and grabbed the nearest single girl, kissing her strongly on the lips. "Happy New Year. It's going to be one Hell of a ride" he winked at her with that one, to which she blushed but stormed off anyway (too bad I don't get to choose one for myself, Oh well back to work)

Edited by Oni Storm, 01 November 2012 - 11:52 AM.

[JazzySteel]

Marauder Bill's
Galaeta, Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015, 00:20

The infamous tavern known across the Inner Sphere simply as 'Marauder Bill's was crammed with party goers celebrating the oncoming new year. Bright neon lights competed with the holoprojectors displaying scenes from all over Galeata of fireworks and merry people celebrating in droves watching as ridiculously large clocks ticked off the final moments of the calendar year. The bar itself hosted standing room only, the peoples faces obscured by a thick pall of cigar, cig, and huka smoke

Domino shouldered his way through the crowded bar, scanning the room quietly. The smell of alchohol tempted his nose but he forced those thoughts away. His years of drinking were behind him, and thats how he intended to keep it.

Making his way to a small corner he found whom he had been looking for. Two professional-types sitting on one side of a booth table. Frank slid into the bench on the other side and nodded curtly.

"Evening, Gentlemen." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Or should I say good-morning" His mouth barely cracked a smile before his attention returned to the interviewers. "We were in touch about the possiblity of a job?"

"Precisely, Mr. Domino" replied on of them. "Only a short interview first, tell me, what do you believe you can bring to our team?"

Frank leaned back and nodded slowly, "Well, I like to think Im a pretty fine pilot. Anything from a crop duster to a Leopard." He chuckled. "I have experience flying combat ops as well, I wasn't always a freight-jockey."

The lean man referenced some notes shortly, "What can you offer us that someone else cannot?" He glanced up at the pilot.

Domino chuckled and actually smiled this time, "You know many people that can go from a Karnov VTOL, to a Chippewa, then a Dropship and feel equally at home at the controls of each? I don't consider myself the greatest pilot ever born, but I sure as hell am versatile."

The interviewer nodded once and looked back at his notes, "How far, Mr Domino, are you willing to go for a new ride."

Frank thought about this one for a moment, "There is nowhere in this galaxy I'd rather be than at the stick. If i'm not flying for you I'll find some puddle-jumper outfit to piddle around in. I'm not gonna throw my life away for a machine, but you'd be mistaken to let me go over that."

The man chewed his lip thoughtfully for a second, "Aside from a ship or other craft, what do you personally think we'd need to do to achieve the goal of putting you back in the saddle again?"

Without hesitation Frank replied, "A half-decent paycheck and a ticket off this rock...."

The interviewer cracked a thin smile, "What other types of employees do you enjoy working with?"

The aging pilot propped an elbow on the table and scratched his cheek, "I can be a team player, if thats what your asking. 'Long as they aint Kurita. I foster no love for Snakes." He grimaced.

"If you were running a recovery operation, what type of people would you look for?" They eyed frank again.

As he fingered a knot hole in the wooden table absently Frank thought about the question,"We'll you'd need a decent pilot or two, a mess of technicians. A couple brains to run the op. And depending on where you're going some escorts would be a smart idea..."

The two interviewers nodded one last time in unison, "you know we could use a good dropship pilot, if you're willing to huff it with the others once you're down, we need as many people in the field on this as possible. By the way do you have any experience piloting anything close to a 'Mech like say an aggro-'Mech or something similar?"

Frank shook his head slowly, "I could never get the damn things to stand up straight. However when I was in pilot school I did a tour driving some big APCs. So I've got a decent understanding of tracked and wheeled trucks."

"Thank you for your time," The man said curtly, "you'll be hearing from us."

Frank shook his hand firmly and stood to leave, he hid the fact he was excited at the prospect of leaving this world, this adventure just might be what it took for him to finally leave his past in the past where it belonged.

Edited by JazzySteel, 16 October 2012 - 08:04 PM.

[Listless Nomad]

MechBay #21, Cockpit of Training mech #7
Sanglamore Military Academy, Skye,
Lyran Commonwealth
March 11th, 3012
2250 hours

Derek was completely focused on hanging on to the wildly gyrating and bouncing girl currently in his lap. They were both laughing and smiling, completely engrossed in one another as they spent another night of passion together. There was something about the cockpit of a mech that was intoxicating to both of them, and Derek couldn’t help but smile as he watched Sandra struggle to hold her Sanglamore Dress cap on her head while she moved. Suddenly the cockpit hatch was flung open and Derek could hear the heavy boots of a large man stalk inside. Sandra had frozen, her body rigid and unmoving. As Derek stared at her wide eyed, he could only watch as her mouth formed two words.
“Hi Daddy.”

Marauder Bill's
Galaport, Galeata,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
0100 Hours

Derek wandered aimlessly through the delirious crowd, smiling and high fiving random people in the celebrations following the New Year. Trying to sip his drink while being jostled by the crowd, Derek eyed some of the more scantily clad women dancing out on the floor and began to make his way toward them. Suddenly, something in the back of his brain reminded him that he was here for something else. Worming his way through the crowd, Derek finally spotted the small booth at the back of the club where the contact had told him to meet. By this time in the night, Derek was rather intoxicated, although his speech had yet to suffer. Only his fine motor skills showed any kind of impairment, especially when he tried to maintain balance after being jostled by delirious party goers. Eventually he managed to stumble his way into a lone chair before the booth, before attempting to sit at attention before the two silent, and rather stern men.

“Good evening Mr. Adler.” The two men said in near unison. Their tone was matter of fact and business-like, which immediately perked Derek’s ears. He straightened his shoulders and attempted to appear more alert. These men meant business, and he needed his wits about him. "What can you bring to the team?"

Derek’s mind instantly reverted to his time at the Academy, and spit forth one of the rote phrases drilled into his memory.

“Duty. Loyalty. Honor. Perseverance.” Derek gave a wry grin, pleased with himself to remember the phrase and deliver it on command, same as the cadet he once was. The mostly annoyed look on the faces of the two men snapped him back to reality. “Uh…Sorry. What do I bring to the table…ummm. Well, I can pilot a mech fairly well, but you guys knew that. I’m a pretty good leader, and know tactics. I’ve also done some grunt infantry work on the side. OH! I’m also really good with radios! I used to be the cadet company radioman back at the academy. Lt. said I was pretty good too!”

The two men seemed more satisfied with this answer and moved on to the next question. "What do you have to offer us that someone else can't?"

Derek chuckled to himself briefly. “How about that girl’s number?” Derek gestured vaguely to a girl dancing with another man on the dance floor. He then fished in his pocket for a moment before waving about a piece of paper with a PComm number scrawled on it. The two men’s faces darkened, and they began shuffling up some of the papers they had laid out before them.

“If you are not going to be serious Mr. Adler, then we have all the team members we need for this operation.” Derek held up his hands to forestall the men from leaving the table.

“Look guys, I’m sorry. I’ll be serious. It’s just too damn…festive around here. I’m afraid I can’t really answer that question, but only because I don’t know what everyone else has. Can I bring a Star League mech? No. Can I divulge the location of a pristine Brain Cache? No. I know how to fight, I know how to take orders, and I’m damn good at doing both of those things. Yeah I got kicked out of the Academy, but I assure you it had nothing to do with me being a soldier. More like a poor choice in my personal life.”
The two men settled down, and reopened the file they had before them on Derek. The man on the right clicked his pen before preparing once again to take notes.

"How far are you willing to go to get a new ride?"

“Well considering I never had one in the first place…I’d say I’ll go pretty far. I’ve wanted to be a mechwarrior for a long time, and I’m willing to do almost whatever it takes to saddle up properly.”

The men seemed more satisfied with that answer and immediately moved on to the next question. "Aside from a 'Mech what do you personally think we need to do to achieve the goal of putting you back in a saddle again?"

Derek coughed into his drink at the question, smiled and sat back.“A metric frak ton of money, a giving heart, and a whole lot of trust? Either that or someone really careless with their battlemechs. Stealing battlemechs is extremely dangerous and somewhat fool hardy, and they ain’t easy to just stumble upon. Assuming however that you have some “Grand Master Plan” to just getting me a mech, then you won’t need much. My training is still good, and I still have a feel for piloting them. Just get me behind the controls and you’ve got a friend for life.”

Rolling their eyes at his obvious sarcasm, the two men pressed on. They seemed to be considerably annoyed with his continual flippant answers, but for some reason refused to give up on him.

"What other types of employees do you enjoy working worth?"

“Hot ones, or funny ones, or ones that can drink. Sometimes ones that can shoot. But mostly loyal ones. I like knowing that someone is going to watch my back and not sell me out so they can get a higher cut. I know we are all mercs now, and not serving Archon and country. I don’t have any illusions. What I don’t want is to be abandoned by some drop ship captain because he isn’t getting paid enough to die. You read me?

"If you were hiring for a recovery operation, what type of people would you look for?"

“Well if it were me running the show, I’d hire techs experienced in moving mechs, repair techs, and grunts for security. You’d need a lot of equipment, and a lot of people to drive the equipment. Once you had those, you’d need transportation and ships. Once I had all of those, I’d hire some down on their luck former mech jocks to drive them to where they needed to go. Since I happen to fall into that last category, I’d guess you have all the prep work laid out already. You can count me in for your little soiree if it is what I think it is. Just remember, I have a long memory.” With that, Derek leaned back in his chair and gave them his friendliest smile. The two men seemed satisfied and closed the file on the desk in front of them.

“Thank you Mr. Alder. We’ve heard all we need to hear for tonight.” The man on the left gestured towards the dance floor. “Why don’t you go and enjoy the new year with the rest of the party goers. Additionally, why don’t you try to get a number from a girl that isn’t a fake?”

With a frown, Derek fished the piece of paper out of his pocket as he rose to leave the booth. After a few moments squinting at the paper, he realized it didn’t have the requisite number of digits to be a valid PComm number. With a frustrated sigh of embarrassment, he crumpled it to the floor, and headed back out to the dance floor. Despite the festive mood, he couldn’t really get back to dancing. Derek kept going over the interview in his head, trying to figure out just what it was that he had gotten himself into.

[Oni Storm]

Marauder Bill's
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
0105 Hours

Reno turned Dr. Wilford Drake and whispered, "You know what? I kinda like this gathering so far, specially that last guy, reminds me a bit of Tommy. We got another few scheduled but we only got til about four, then we need to get things going. Pretty sure we'll have to send someone for Mr. Malvern, I'm sure and the others should be good to go, once they have the go ahead." Drake looked with a slightly raised right eyebrow, "So whatcha thinking? We gonna get started around eight with the presentation? You gonna hav em have breakfast during, before, or after?" Reno smiled, "After of course, that way we know they'll hang around, til it's over. Besides one snatch and grab is all well and good, but too many will raise suspicion. Hope Darc put our guest somewhere nice."


Private Residence
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
0130 Hours

Ilia woke a bit groggy and with the taste of cherry and peppermint leaves upon her tongue. She was in a feather down bed of pure luxury, encircled by gold framed mirrors and cherry hardwood cabinets placed against the west, southern, and east walls. Turning herself to the north facing there was a huge bay panoramic view of the city and spaceport below, the window nearly invisible against the skyline. A love-seat set at the foot of the giant bed with a coffee table before it upon which was placed a chilled bucket of wine and various assorted cheeses and flat breads.

The mystery being there was no one else around, and no simple door, or visible sign of exit.

[Aegis Fate]

Private Residence
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
0130 Hours

Ilia rose out of the bed, noticing her distinct lack of clothing, cursing under her breath. She attempted to run the entire night through her head, nothing specific on her new circumstances seemed to emerge, the drunken revelry of the party goers obscuring the reason for her being here. The tinge of peppermint and cherry on her tongue dawned the realization on her. She was drugged somehow and brought here. Even worse was the fact her faded clothing was removed, but she was relieved to see the rest of her belongings atop a dresser by the window. She took stock of her bearings, walking towards the dressers, removing fine clothes from them, cursing more as she could find nothing that would be appropriate for combat, looking through what appeared to be a gentleman's clothing for a fancy party or ball, the black suit appealing to her sensibilities. Donning a pair of black dress pants and a white shirt, leaving the shirt untucked but buttoned and the pants fitting loosely on her slender, lank form. Returning to her possession, she noticed a ticket for dry cleaning, shrugging as she thought to herself 'Guess my clothes still exist somewhere,' lifting a small locket, the last remnants of her previous life, an image of her mother and father on the inside, both of them wearing finer clothes then she had worn the past five years. Stepping around the edges, she found a bathroom just as opulent as the room she was just in, cursing further as she looked in the mirror at her disheveled hair, searching for a brush or comb to smooth down her tangled mess. After emitting a satisfied sigh, she brushed her hair into a semi organized length, the black hair rarely being washed in the past five years. She again stepped out back into the bedroom, dropping down upon the love seat at the foot of the bed, idling looking the knife over as she grabbed a piece of bread, consuming it with her usual voracity (Something that has begun only after she realized how much she loved the fine foods and even the military meals in comparison to her regular earnings for the past five years.)
The note on the table was what caught her eye, looking down at it, the words 'You're hired, enjoy the digs. Reno will be by 5,' cursing under her breath the whole time she took to read it.

[ChaosGrinder]

Marauder Bill's
Galaport, Galeata,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
2:00 hrs

The infamous tavern known across the Inner Sphere simply as 'Marauder Bill's was crammed with party goers celebrating the oncoming new year. Bright neon lights competed with the holoprojectors displaying scenes from all over Galeata of fireworks and merry people celebrating in droves watching as ridiculously large clocks ticked off the final moments of the calendar year. The bar itself hosted standing room only, the peoples faces obscured by a thick pall of cigar, cig, and hooka smoke.

Despite the new year had started two hours ago, the party was still full and loud. With a skilled grip Hannah seized a glass from a waiters tablet and disappeared in the crowd. She was late, but there was alwasy time for a cocktail and a cigarette., and if there was none, she took it. But here, it wouldn´t be a problem to do so during the interview. Not for her at least.

She was exhausted, comming here was harder than she would have expected. With nimble moves she wriggled toward the meeting point, a gloomy part of the bar. She obviously was awaited.

Two guys where sitting in the dark and greeted her in unison. " Miss Doyle-Cecille finally arrived, pleased to see you made it ... almost in time."

There was something about their tone that bit her, she couldn´t pin it, but there was a certain sting to it that made her feel uncmfortable.

" It´s called party and drunk people can be extremely hindering obstacles" she answered with a friendly smile and pulled off her glasses.

Without responding to it, they carried on. "What can you bring to the team?"

"Uh, not here for a friendly talk i guess ? Well .... a guitar, humor and maybe the best tech you´ll find the bext 20 Lightyears."

"What do you have to offer us that someone else can't?" They replied calmly. Oh heartless ********, they should enjoy themselves thought Hannah.

" Well... if you have a problem with anything that moves and shoots, call me in the morning."

"How far are you willing to go to get a new ride?"

Allright, time to match their style. " Far."

"Aside from a 'Mech what do you personally think we need to do to achieve the goal of putting you back in a saddle again?"

" Trustwortieness, good mood and maybe a pint of beer."

"What other types of employees do you enjoy working worth?"

She had to admit she had to think. " Tustworthy first and foremost, skilled and maybe hard drinking. "

"If you were hiring for a recovery operation, what type of people would you look for?"

" The best of the best. What about you ?"
Before they could answer she added" You´ve chosen the damn best place for such a grave-ambient-theme. "

" Let´s call it ... irony. But we thank you for your time, you shall hear from us soon."

" Thanks are on my side. I´m at your service."

[Oni Storm]

Private Residence
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
05:00 Hours

Reno arrived at the balcony window / door right at five am sharp, bouquet of white and golden yellow roses in hand. As the window whisked away and up into the ceiling he spoke; "Ah Miss Sharde, I'm so glad you decided to stay. Normally I'd try to sweep you off your feet and all that right now, but I'm afraid we don't have the time. If we are going to meet the others at the ship that is?. If you'll please hurry and gather your needs we'll pick up your clothes along the way.. Though you may have to change in the car as we are short on time." he finished with a somewhat sly lecherous grin. He then presented her the flowers "A gift and symbol of beauty and peace to such a beautiful and delicate one such as yourself." He meet her eyes and smiled "I do hope you are feeling better, cause much like those roses, there is a danger that lies such beautiful things such as ourselves, and quite frankly I'd hate to have any blood drawn by either." He eyed the missing cheese knife Ilia still held unto somewhere on her person, looking for it suspiciously. The turned abruptly, his light brown duster snapping behind him as he turned, the back to back "B"s emblem at his right shoulder, catching her eye as he went back to await her on the balcony and another man entered at the ready to grab her gear and bags.



Marauder Bill's
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
04:00 hrs

At four o'clock the music and festivities stopped with a dead second silence and over the course of the next hour the staff and security slowly ushered the hanger-rounds out the door and off the property. Though a few minglers still were around with Bill's blessing. All told it had been a pretty good night with some thirty odd applicants total and ten 'Mech jocks signed. Doctor Wilford Drake had sent Darc and another after the man mistaken as Mister Malvern, the original being little more than a tight-shirt with no real personality, and runners to the others with a general message to gather outside of Marauder Bill's by five this morning.



Outside Marauder Bill's
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
05:00 hrs

Once all were gathered Doctor Drake spoke; "Congratulations folks you'v signed on for a grand new adventure. Meaning yes, we want you and all you hav to do is board the transport, then we'll be off to the ship and your new home."

With that a large black tracked armored transport approached and stopped before them. The treads rubberized and strained as the smell of burnt rubber and brake fluid whiffed up from the street assaulting the some twenty gathered around. Most with what meager gear, duffels, tools, and personal items they had. Slowly each boarded, most of the others with both drunken smiles, sobering thoughts, and a few with genuine trepidation of the world and journey to come.


Tarmac Space Port

Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
06:18 hrs


The hues of blue, purple, and orange were truly a breathtaking backdrop against the blackened shadowy egg-shaped forms of the spaceport as the vehicles approached and began unloading their passengers and cargo.

A golden dawn slowly arose casting its rays through the trees as Reno stepped from the hover-limo donning his light brown duster and adjusting his fly, in true cinematic fashion. Doctor Wilford Drake likewise stepped out of the cab of the transport donning a fresh new spotless white lab coat looking duster of his own, sporting the Kallon Industries logo. They approached the gathering together, one from each side and before them, with two men each trailing behind them.

Those men however had no faces or fancy dusters but instead wore fully encased black helmets that attached at various points to their oily black plated combat armor, that seemed to cover every line and bulged out with protective sheets in all the right places. Each one looked as though the armor had been custom made to fit only them and hence took away from what should have been the more menacing weapons array of a vibrosword and laser carbine on each.


Tarmac Space Port
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
06:24 hrs

The sun meanwhile continued to rise behind the gathering and begun to cast full rays upon the aerodyne craft before them and behind their new employers and patrons. Reno cleared his throat and began "Welcome! Welcome, my friends. To your new home, til you get your own ride or are done with this job, anyways." Almost as if on cue the sun's rays fully beamed and illuminated the Buccaneer class dropship as it tried to boldly reflect back the sun's rays in the few places on it that weren't blackened with scorch marks or covered in rust. "Well Mister Domino what do you think? Can you fly her? cause she's all yours now til we inform you otherwise. Congratulations Captain Domino." He looked rather proud of himself and Doctor Drake too was beaming from ear to ear with pride even as he caught a few looks of disappointment from the crowd, that seemed all the more to fuel his smile, wither genuine or faked and practiced was hard to tell.

Drake spoke next "Captain. Darc here will show you around your vessel and introduce you to your crew and go over the specs and nuances of the ship should you have any questions [you can PM me] he'll be happy to oblige as he can. The rest of you. If you'll follow me please, we'll get you situated aboard and show you your quarters. They aren't much but I hope you'll find them satisfactory while in our employ."

Edited by Oni Storm, 05 November 2012 - 09:44 AM.

[ChaosGrinder]

Outside Marauder Bill's
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
05:00 hrs

Hannah was still sleepy, when she arived at the Port. Her belongings where secured in a big, Khaki-colored Backpack, military style of course. She also carried a smaller sling pack with tools and cigarettes and a flask with Burboun.

She had used the few hours before to take a bath and to take care of herself, her hair, now quite a bit more smooth than before was a fiery red dot of color amidst the sleepy and/or drunk people around her. She was dressed in her usual clothing, her jacked hanging loosely around her shoulders.

"Allright, time to take the plane, this is going to be fun", she said and headed for the transport.



Tarmac Space Port
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
06:24 hrs

"That´s a big chicken", Hannah said to herself. She was eager to explore it and to get to see the quarters. She wasn´t particulary rich but she had her standarts when it came to housing.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Tarmac Space Port
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
06:24 hrs

Sam smacked his lips while looking over the 'dropship' wishing for something anything really to drink. He wasn't hungover, just thirsty. He thought over the morning's events. Pounding on his door while some naked chick snored away loudly in his ear woke him. Stumbling he made his way to the door finding two irritated looking uniformed men there eyeballing one another distrustfully. Some of the night's events came back to him, he remembered something about an inter view by men who were hinting at securing him a battlemech. He then looked at the man on the left in the slate gray uniform with the name 'Ramage' stitched on it. He thought that he signed up with two outfits came to him.

"Well, what's it going to be Maxwell? Us or them?" Ramage asked, a edge of anger in his voice. The other man smiled smugly already knowing the answer as he rocked back on his heels and put his hands in his pockets.

"My apologies sargent, but I'm going with them. You want me to fight against mechs on foot, while they're willing to give me a mech. I'm sure your boss with understand. And give Carlye my apologies for any troubles."

"Whatever." The gray clad sargent turned on his heel and stormed off down the hall. He then turned to the other infantryman not helping but notice that there was no rank insignia or unit patches. He man's face cracked in a s**t eating grin as he arched an eyebrow.

"Maxwell?" He cuckled before continuing. "APC at 0500, I suggest you be on it." He then turned and left, following after Ramage.

An hour later Sam was showered dressed and getting on the APC, leaving behind some crinkled Korner bills for umm, what's-her-nut.

Back the the here and now, Sam scratched himself trying to dismiss the worry of Space Herpies as a bead of sweat rolled down his back. Stinging as it made contact with the claw marks the girl left him. He'd seen better ships during his time, but he'd also seen worse. With that thought in mind he slung his gear and followed after Drake.

[Listless Nomad]

Tarmac Space Port
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
06:30 hrs

Derek plopped down on the must cot that served as his bed and threw his duffel bag on the floor. Clad in Jeans and a T Shirt, with a zippered hoody to ward off the cold, he looked nothing like a soldier or a mercenary, the profession he now found himself in. With a heavy sigh, Derek laid back on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to dispel the massive headache wracking his brain, a parting gift from the raucous celebration of the night before. Unfortunately, Derek had gone home alone, and a rather aggressive knocking on his door at 4:45 AM had done him no favors. As a result, he had been in a rather foul mood and had hardly conversed at all with his fellow mercs, choosing instead to go directly to his room to relax. The ship was old, and rusty, and it smelled funny, but it was his home now – for better or worse. Before Derek had a chance to fall fully asleep, a voice called to him from the corridor.

"Come on sleepy head, no rest for the wicked."

With a tremendous sigh, Derek heaved himself out of bed and trudged to the back of the group of mercs, rubbing the back of his neck as they gathered for what he imagined was a tour.

Edited by Listless Nomad, 29 January 2013 - 08:34 PM.

[JazzySteel]

Marauder Bill's
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
04:15 hrs

Frank rolled over slowly, the sound of someone rapping at the door was all but lost amidst his thunderous snores. Eventually the messenger got bold and marched in, and kicked the foot of Domino's bed once. He woke with a start and perked an eyebrow at the suit.

"I have been asked to inform you that there will be an APC waiting for you infront of the establishment at 0:500. It will take you to the spaceport, Mr. Domino."

Frank nodded and waved to dismiss the man, he yawned loudly and arose, shuffling around the room packing and making ready.



Tarmac Space Port
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
06:24 hrs

Frank breathed in deeply, and scratched the thinning hairline towards the back of his head thoughtfully.

"Captain, Eh?"

He nodded, shouldering the duffel of belongings at his feet. He spent a long moment looking the ship from end to end. Letting 'Darc' follow him around as he walked nearly the length of the craft before heading towards the loading ramp with a satisfied smile. As they boarded the ship he patted the hull panel beside the entrance like one might a girl he was courting.

After leaving his belongings in the quarter's area, Frank and his follower made their way to the bridge. He walked around, Examining the different stations and was pleased to note that while aged and certainly not in the best of condition, the entirety of the ship wasn't reflected by the disrepair of the hull.

He walked to the center of the room, and stood in front of the command chair (at some point noting that there was no sign of a helmsman, he'd probably have to reroute those controls to his own station, he really didn't mind). The morning sun glared down through the large paneled viewport. Carbon scorching on the ferro-glass created a striking dappled effect in the sunlight flooding the bridge.

Frank Domino lowered himself into his seat smiling triumphantly as the Galatian sun warmed his face. He donned a pair of old-style aviator sunglasses from his vest pocket and nodded to Darc.

"I'll make her dance for ya, she got a name?"

[Aegis Fate]

Tarmac Space Port
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
07:54 hrs
Ilia sighed. The ride in the car was a simple enough affair, although she refused to change into her regular garb, preferring to disappoint her kidnapper, the knife still tucked behind the shirt and into her pants. The cold metal warming to her skin, a single duffel containing all of her regular possessions.
The ship itself didn't impress her, an aging hulk of a ship that looked like some poor backwater merc's pride. Walking through the halls, she looked for her quarters, finding them quickly and dumping down the bag and laying down upon the bed in the room, sighing as she staved off sleep, preferring to be awake in case of emergencies, barely staying conscious as she traced lines in the ceiling idly, drifting further and further into sleep.

Edited by Aegis Fate, 09 November 2012 - 06:29 AM.

[Oni Storm]

Interior Buccaneer class dropship
Tarmac Birth 6, Space Port
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
06:40 hrs

The interior tour for the rest of the crew was a mix mosh of chaos and fun. The three hundred ton central cargo bay was non-existent and instead seemed to be replaced by a solid block wall of metal from floor to ceiling and thick enough that no sound reverberated or escaped from whatever was inside. As they approached the a small corridor at the very back of the craft and tunneled through the slab from right to left, and large enough for a loader 'Mech to navigate carefully. Their guide brought them to the center of the corridor and a set of double doors much like a cargo elevator. "Now you all will need to remember this to get to crew quarters section", pressing a sequence of numbers he rattled them of as he went "three, six, nine, then the forth floor button here." he placed his hand at the floor panel next to the keypad. "Got it?"

With that final press the cube began to rise but it was only barely detectable as ones inner-ear gave away the motion. The elevator doers opposite of the ones they entered opened and the group continued to be ushered on and noticed a nice little central area for socializing as they got off on the third floor. Enough sofas and plants for some thirty people were gathered inside the square box. The three holo-tubes displaying various local channels on screen, the room itself extended out from there with four corridors coming off the area one each to the left and right center of the room from the elevator and the others in both corners facing north of the groups entry position.

Doctor Drake watched for any signs of bewilderment and curiosity but got the initial surprises of quite a number of the new hires not being use to proper military hours, as a good portion of them went straight to their rooms and went to back sleep. Something he thought was to be quite funny once they ever woke and realized what they had missed. He held no ill will towards any of them but did as he was told and put those "too tired" to care in the double occupancy rooms, per Reno's instructions.



Interior Buccaneer Class dropship
Tarmac birth 6, Space Port
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
06:55 hrs

Captain Domino walked around, Examining the different stations and was pleased to note that while aged and certainly not in the best of condition, the entirety of the ship wasn't reflected by the disrepair of the hull.

Indeed the interior was quite more surprising to those who took the time to notice, silver and blue steel, shinning as if it had just come off the assembly line and had been polished and coated to perfection, burst from the panels and support beams. Everywhere a person looked at first glance seems dingy, dirty, and unkempt. Closer inspection revealed however that the interior blemishes were mostly cosmetic and cargo netting and some form or powdery flaked spray had been applied to various area, to make the ship appear old, aged and beaten beyond her prime.



Interior Buccaneer Class dropship
Forth aft floor
January 1st, 3015
07:00 hrs

As the first groups of still tired members were shown their shared quarters, it was still amazing how much room they had, with each consisting of a single bed and shared hose and vacuum bath. With a footlocker and wardrobe closet for each occupant.

To the others however he lead them on a strange adventure of what was soon to become, a not quite so ordinary Buccaneer after all. With the stragglers now carefully squared away the remainder of the group were shown the rest of the intricacies. Doctor Drake took the tour over at this point, "Well now that the rest are out of the way. Let's continue shall we? Oh and by the way, lets keep the rest of this tour to ourselves shall we, we wouldn't want to ruin their surprise." he chuckled to himself lightly. "I do hope you all brought your swimwear, otherwise you'll have to request a suit from operations, and well frankly they aren't very flattering." He looked over the crew eyeing each like he was picturing them all naked. "Shall we then?" They re-boarded the elevator and this time he spoke as the codes were entered. "One, Zero, One, One, One, Zero. First floor. If you press just the first floor button it'll return you to the main loading corridor we entered earlier."

As the compartment reached the bottom floor this time air seemed to flood the compartment and the groups ears all collectively popped and The doors opened this time with a "swoosh" and they were quickly assaulted be a chlorine smell and and a definitive change in pressure. There was a long corridor and another two series of doors clearly visible beyond and a shimmering blueish field beyond the last set of doors. "Ah yes, this here is one of my favorites. The area beyond we won't enter at this time, as well I'm sure any of us want to get wet. The chamber beyond is a depressurization area and will allow you to pass into the zero gee pool. Yes that's right we have a functioning pool on board , you'll need training as to how to enter and exit it safely once we are in space, and it is highly recommended you not be in there when we do jumps. Frankly noone wants to clean up after that. Anyway you can don a mask once inside and the corridor will give you the green light from there when it's pressurized and safe to enter or exit. It's twelve feet deep upon entry but there a rungs to the side as you enter and a tube that is fully pressurized with air that will allow you to reach the top if you aren't a powerful swimmer. The surface is help in check by a constant airflow pushing down from above and is kept at eighty degrees most all of the time, while the water is usually in the seventies. The chairs are a bit stiff and the metallic beach leaves much to desire but the few hammocks we have there are to die for and large enough for two if you're careful. Now then back through the rabbit hole and I'll show you all to the lounge over looking the pool and the mess hall for most of you."


Interior Buccaneer Class dropship
1st through 3rd aft floors
January 1st, 3015
07:15 hrs

Gathering back aboard the elevator he hit the keypad "One, Zero, One, the Second Floor. simply enough for relaxation, no?" As the elevator rose and the doors opened the group was meet with the smell of bacon and hot biscuits coming from a central room opposite the doors. "Ah yes that would be breakfast, please feel free to look around and partake."

Looking down as they crossed the center the thermaglass panes shown down unto the pool area and a large circular area was set up around the largest window with couches and coffee table bolted in place. "Ah yes, One last thing I forgot to mention, the lounge and mess hall here is the only place, aside from the bridge and pool, that is kept at constant one gee gravity, so as you can imagine, it's a popular place. Not to worry though it can accommodate up to sixty persons so now real problems as there should never be that many of you in here at one time." The was even a track that ran around the mostly oval room, that was parted only at the elevator doors and the mess area.



Interior, Buccaneer's Bridge
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
07:40 hrs

The Bridge access was fore of the ship's crew quarters, which in turn were forward of the cargo area and the rest of ship, and housed a somewhat cramped cockpit with a captains chair over looking the pilot and copilot seats of a traditional aerodyne. A small readout monitor to the left and right of the captain's chair brought for vectors and telemetry on the left while the right housed weapons and armor status and external camera views the tracked along the weapons path and that of various side and engine flanking views. The weapons systems were easy enough to to understand and perhaps a bit disturbing in that the vessel carried no rear firing weaponry as a typical Buccaneer might, instead it appeared the previous owners had opted for a more offensive approach and placed a second large laser in the nose and removed the missile system all together. Her armor and heat had also been increased signification and emphasis given especially to protecting the engines and rear cargo area. Checking through the cameras, Frank noticed two covering each side positioned from the forward and facing and covering the flank, then one for each side cargo door and four mounted across the rear to cover multiple angels of the engines and housing areas.

Darc stood there in the hatchway waiting for the Captain to get his feel. He watched the other as he sat and plied his aviator ware. "I'll make her dance for ya, she got a name?"

Darc raised an eyebrow, "I'm sure you will sure, lets just hope it's not a dance of death, shall we?" He gave a slight smirking smile. "As for a name she called Rising Phoenix now. Not sure what she was called before the techies got their hands on her. As for your bridge crew and weapons officer, you may select whoever you wish. I'll have either them personally come before you or we can set you up a dossier package once you get to your room. I'll be handling communications for now, but don't hesitate to call me if you need a weapons officer. If you'll follow me I'll show you your room."



Interior Buccaneer Class dropship
3rd aft floor
January 1st, 3015
07:45 hrs

The mess was little more than a room beyond view, a line for grabbing food and apparently food was to be eaten in the lounge and the trays returned to a receptacle next to the mess entrance when you were done. Drake approached the would be 'Mech jocks, each personally, "I didn't want to flaunt this in front of the others but when you are ready to turn in your code is seven, seven, seven, followed by the fifth floor. Your name is on the door. Enjoy"



Captain's Quarter's
Rising Phoenix
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
08:00 hrs

While not fancy, It was big... Really big.. Capable of easily housing another second single occupancy room or two inside it. The room itself had a table and holonet monitor that could go from a big screen on down to nine micro screens projecting mostly the local exchange rates, weather, and solar updates. The control also allowed for many local channels and a various internal and external camera jumping feature. The room also featured sofas located both at standard floor level and one each on the wall. The bedroom however put it to shame as the "bed" itself was in the dead center of the room and more liken to a huge pillowy cocoon that hung suspended from the room's corners and was accessible via climbing any of the rope-ladder like supports.

"The captain's table is available with the flip of this switch and movement to and from is blocked til you open it. Anytime you want the crew to wait, just invite them, the entrance is separated out into their own area through that room." he pointed to the right. "Oh and do be careful of the jets of your water tube, it has a tendency to get a little scalding if you stay in there very long. Well then I'll take my leave and let you get settled Captain, feel free to call on me if you need anything, til later, good day. Oh and don't forget your pass code it allows you access to most anywhere on the ship and is your only way to get back in here. There's a handbook on the holonet you might want to gaze at as well if you plan on visiting the passenger section. bye"

The door whispered shut behind him and with that Frank was left all alone to ponder his next move in this new game of life.

Edited by Oni Storm, 09 November 2012 - 05:58 AM.

[Sparks Murphey]

Rising Phoenix
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
07:45 hrs

The ride from his hotel had been uncomfortable. Not the metal benches or the military-grade suspension that transmitted every pothole and bump on the road through said benches; he’d grown used to physical discomfort. It was the half-veiled looks he drew from some of the other passengers, sizing him up, already excluding him. Were they jealous and greedy, wanting him to begone so that their chances of gaining a BattleMech were that much higher? Could they somehow sense his dishonour and already be condemning him for it? Were they just bigots who despised him for his race? He’d noted with some displeasure that the drunk from last night had somehow made it onto the transport, before chiding himself at being so judgmental. Who was he to judge, after all?

The flight on the DropShip promised to be anything but uncomfortable. Who were these people, that they could afford such opulence in their space travel, yet were hiring Dispossessed for some mission? Spies? A criminal syndicate?

The questions left Eisuke troubled. He was an outsider here, having just thrown his lot in with covert but obviously well-connected people. As the others dispersed to head to their quarters, Eisuke found a vacant area in the mess and began stepping through a few simple tai-chi exercises, letting his muscles run through the familiar routines as he focused his mind inwards and cleared his thoughts.

[ChaosGrinder]

Rising Phoenix
Galaport, Galatea,
Lyran Commonwealth
January 1st, 3015
07:45 hrs



Hannah was astonished. She youldn´t have imagined the ship to be in such a good shape. An excellent shape, to be exact. Polished like it was fresh from the works, finest decor, luxury , a bar, even a pool.

" Smart move Hannah, to bring your swimming stuff with you, smart move", she said to herself, following the group and looking around. This was the right place for her. Packed with tech and gadgets. Hopefully the qoekahop was well equipped, then she wouldn´t need any other place to go to, besides the quarters.

The Quarters where comfortable, particularly the beds. Fluffy, warm, soft. Unpacking her backpack she looked around and wondered who she would share rooms with. Hopefully it would be one of those girls she had seen earlier, hot as hell. she was allways on the lookout, you could never know...