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[Sloth901]

Will watched as the woman entered the room, Draco had taken the seat next to him and the woman saluted him

Sparks Murphey, on 12 April 2012 - 03:41 PM, said:

“Commander. Good to meet you, I'm Heather Walker, I pilot an Enforcer that’s been attached to your unit as an auxiliary. Just wanted to drop by and introduce myself.”

"So Mrs Walker. I'll get straight to the point, we have no idea who you are." The woman looked shocked. "You have just arrived and declared you are looking for a Mr Andor who leads a local unit." Will could feel himself getting angry and raised his voice a little. "Most of the locals dont know that I'm a merc, and even less know the Vulkaneer's have a unit based here"

Now I need to know how you came across this info. If indeed you are telling the truth then this night will end with everyone getting to know each other over drinks and maybe even a game of cards or two. But if we find your claims less than truthful then this night may not end as happily.

"So im gonna ask one question that will determine your fate", "WHO SENT YOU?"

[Sparks Murphey]

Oh ****. D&mn that agent! She was going to have Words with him next time she saw him. Possibly with the hot end of a PPC.

“Sir, all the business dealings were handled through my agent. Here,” she fished in her pocket and pulled out a business card that she dropped on the table, “send him a message if you want. Michael Philips of Gemini Stables. As for who hired me, I’ve honestly got no idea any more, Michael dealt with the client, not me. Up until now, I’d figured it was you lot. But if that’s not the case,” she shrugged, “My next guess would be whoever your current employer is. They’re the only other people I could see with an angle on me reinforcing your unit and who would know about your secret base. Unless some of the locals pooled their cash for laughs.”

She tried to smother the anger burning inside. These were serious men that she couldn’t hope to beat if things turned ugly. This was certainly turning out to be one of her worst days ever, though.

--

Out in front of the pub, Gunther Karlsson whistled as he unreeled the winch from the back of his truck. He was in a pleasant mood. The city smelled fresh, washed clean by the rain. He hitched the hook to the front of Heather’s rental, hit a button, and started filling out the paperwork as the car was towed onto the back of his truck. Some people don’t learn, he thought to himself, ruefully.

[Durgan Carlyle]

(I know transmissions between planet take a HPG and more time but for the sack of the RP I'm bending reality a bit hehe.)

Durgan had made his way from outside into the back room just in time to hear the young woman’s plight, he felt almost bad for her. Durgan walked up to the table and picked up the card at a quick glance it seemed legitimate.

“I got this.”

Durgan quickly typed up a message on his data pad and sent it off. Depending on were the recipient was the message could take some time but for her case it better not. Durgan tapped the data pad impatiently waiting for a response time seem to stand still. Durgan wasn't sure how long had past it had to been at least fifteen twenty minutes but Durgan data pad finally vibrated with a response it was from Michael Philips at least this part of her story seem to be true he quickly opened it.

“The agent says he was contacted by a man only going by the name of Paul.. sound familiar to you?”

Durgan laid the data pad on the table to let the two sitting across from the woman see for themselves.

[Sloth901]

Will sighed, yet another reason to kill his uncle. He's a fun guy but does things on impulse, which is bad for Will when the clean up is usually up to him. Will produced a deck of cards. "Your story checks out, so lets play cards and get drunk, first rounds on Draco"
Draco looked to protest.
"Did you or did you not blow up a bar?" Will wasn't gonna let this one drop it was pure gold "Then consider this repaying the damages to the drinking community, Ill have a pint of larger"

[guardian wolf]

Draco was about to protest the call, but then, Will mentioned the bar. Draco shrugged, and looked at a nearby waitress.
"I'd like to get a tab going, and he wants a pint of larger,"
Draco walked toward the door to let Spear know that the coast was clear on the woman mech pilot. Johnson caught his eye, and Draco knew what he meant, they were going to have to tell them, but not yet. Draco walked through the door, and found Spear, smoking.
"Hey, Spear, the lady checks out, we're playing a game of cards inside if you want to join,"
Draco looked up at the night sky, it was starting to clear up. Draco could see the stars, and they looked beautiful. It was something that he'd never taken the time to notice, and it saddened him. They seemed so peaceful, and reminded him of Dylan's calming looks that he'd give Draco when something went wrong. It seemed as if he was staring Dylan right in the face, and Draco admired at their peaceful appearance. What he'd give to finally have some peace, but he quickly realized that even if he got it, he wouldn't know what to do. Draco shook his head, and a patron gave him a shake on the shoulder.
"You alright buddy?"
Draco turned around, and the man looked like Spear, but, couldn't have been.
"Yeah, just, thought I saw something,"
Draco headed back inside and waved at Johnson. He got up with his Larger, and walked over to Draco.
"So, we telling them now?"
"Not yet, let them have at least one night with their fun. And have a message sent to Castle, I want Rick's Archer up and running by noon tomorrow,"
"Aye, and Draco,"
"Yes Johnson,"
"You saw him didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did,"
"Hey he's in a better place. I know he'd be damn proud of you, of both of you. He gave his life to make sure that you continued, to make sure that you would carry on in his place. He knew his time had come, and he was ready. Just remember, he gave you those dog tags, so that you'd remember him, and live for him, not fall into despair. You are our commander, our team leader, we gotta look out for each other,"
Draco looked Johnson in the eye, and for once, what he said, it helped.
"Yeah, well, let's not keep them waiting,"
Draco walked in, and found Will dealing the cards.

[Sparks Murphey]

Heather settled back in her chair as Will began to deal. That almost ended badly, she thought. A hot shower and a good night's sleep seemed an ideal way to be done with this dreadful day, but getting to know these people first might be wise.

She looked back to the kid who'd first approached her at the bar. He didn't look so young, now that he wasn't fumbling for ways to interact with her. Probably only a few years younger than herself.

She caught his eye again as he looked up. "Didn't catch your name before," she said, "You're with the unit, I assume?"

[Durgan Carlyle]

Durgan picked up his cards shuffling through them when Heather spoke to him.

"Sorry yea my names Durgan Carlyle, just call me Durgan. But yea I just got out of the academy so I'm pretty new here to. How about your self were are you coming from I'm sure you got some good stories.

[MacabreDerek]

The re-outfitting was going well, most of the mechs stripped down to their internal skeletons and the bay looked as though it was more of a forensics lab. Rick walked along the street, the rain leaving the ferrocret walkway almost as slick as oil, and the smell was enough to make you choke. Hard day of work always left Rick with a thurst, and he needed to see his CO. Word came through the grease-monkeys that he may be off to Kerensky's Return, a low-end bar on this low-end planet. Rick felt a twinge of regret, as he had never gone into one of these places without some kind of drama ensuing, but that was just the nature of the business. Someone was getting rich pooring drinks for the low-brow dregs.

The bright neon sign looked antiquated, which was never a good sign. The lights hurt his eyes, and he could not enter the front quick enough.

Pushing through the door, he observed the patrons. It took a moment for him to find Draco in discussion with another individual, so clearly this was not the time to give the status report. Besides, he didn't have the heart to tell Draco that he purposely put his mech last in the stripping and re-assembling lists, forcing the staff of knuckle-draggers to work on the house-mechs.

Keeping his head low, he wandered up to the bar and placed an order for a Hellion's Touch, a random assortment of liquer that was close to a Prarie Fire, but with a bit more bite using a chili extract.

Trying to get comfortable, he sat there readying himself for a long night.

[Sparks Murphey]

Heather nodded as she picked up her own cards.

"I think mentioned before, I'm a Solaris fighter. I've not got any formal training, just learnt from watching my dad in the arenas all his life. He was a master of heat management and hit and run attacks..."

A waitress brought in the first round of drinks as Heather launched into a story about her father melting his 'Mech through thin ice into a lake during an arctic match on Solaris. There was a long night ahead.

[guardian wolf]

Draco looked around and saw Rick at the bar, and so, walked up to him. He wanted a status report of how the refits were going. Draco sat down next to Rick, and asked for one of his waters from the Bartender. Draco looked over at Rick, and then spoke.

"So, how are the repairs going? Any progress on that Archer of yours?"

- insert response here -

Draco began to settle into his seat, and sip at the water. He looked around at the bar while Rick spoke, making sure that Johnson was still here. Draco nodded in his direction and Johnson got up and headed for the bar next to Rick. Draco turned to Rick, and then looked at Johnson.

"Rick, let me introduce you to a good friend of mine, Gunnery Sergeant James Johnson. My team's sniper, and medic, I'll let him explain to you how imperative it is that we get as many of those mechs online as possible, with yours taking a high priority, as you will be able to pilot it,"
Johnson spoke quietly, so that the crowd around them, wouldn't hear.
"Mr. Rick, this place is not going to be safe, not in the least, as we are about to be invaded,"
He paused, putting emphasis on the situation.
"They are stronger, faster, better armed, more than likely better trained than the some of the elite units of the Sphere. We have little time until they strike, we know not when this attack will come, or from where, but we know that it will be in force, and we don't stand a chance in a toe to toe match, especially on their terms. Many will die, and we were sent here to make sure that we can resist them once the planet falls, and fall it will. Our job is to make them hurt on this planet, so that way, we can poison their advance, Dragoon command wants as many mechwarriors ready for combat as possible, this puts your mech at highest priorities right now. Connors received my message and they are working on your mech as we speak, Rick, I suggest that we get it online as soon as possible, so this old Wolf here," Johnson nodded towards Draco.
"Can get you at least a little ready, for combat. What you have been told, only our team knows, and we would like to keep it that way until we need to explain to everyone,"

[MacabreDerek]

"Archer is on hold until we can finish refitting the command lance in the bay. No sense having that old clunker taking priority over the tactics and work-horse mechs available. Most of the mechs have been stripped down, and I intend to go over the pieces pulled off. Rather use the new equipment and give us some time to refurbish the old parts into spares, and with the supplies we should have plenty. What's really getting to me is that a lot of the mechs are old, and their bones are starting to show up rotten. Nothing that cant be fixed in a couple of weeks, and I am sure with the loose time frame we got, it shouldnt be much of a problem."

Rick watched Draco nod to someone in the corner of the bar, and the man approached the two. He already knew whatever this guy was to Draco, he wasnt gonna like it. It's that feeling of bad scotch in his stomach that turned every time he was gonna get bad news. Before he could interject, Johnson began laying the news,

By the time he was done describing the situation, Rick noticed his hand shaking, starting to spill his drink. He shot it back quickly and put the glass down. His mind was racing, all of the mechs were down to internals, how the hell was he going to get the knuckle-draggers to assemble all the mechs in such a short time.

"My mech is priority?..." he said under his breath, his hands still shook.

"I'm sorry, i... I got to go."

Standing up quickly, he headed to the door. It was gonna be a long night.

=====================

The light switched on, and all you could hear was the groans of the barracks filled with techs. "You can sleep when you're dead, we got work to do. I need bays C-1 to C-8 assembled, and then we got to.... " The words stuck in his throat.

".... The Archer in B6 is going to be take priority."

Random voice eeking from the corner of the room of the masses of knuckle-draggers in their underwear "Isnt that you're old junker?"

"Yea, it is. Trust me guys, I wouldnt tell ya if it wasnt from the top. We're going to get every mech repaired, loaded, and ready to rock. It's going to be a long night."

The groans were complaining that Rick was demanding the impossible. It took weeks to re-assemble a mech, far less every mech they took the time to strip down. But it had to be done, and this is going to be the challenge of his life. Well, that's not true.... It was going to be when he was piloting, having to prove himself.

[guardian wolf]

Draco watched Rick leave the room, and then turned to Johnson.
"It had to be done," Johnson said.
"I know, I was hoping that he'd take it better, but, he'll get over it. In times like these, we have to expect peak efficiency from everyone,"
"Especially against them,"
Draco shook the feeling off of him, they were soon going to be fighting against an enemy that had not only better tech, pilots, and numbers than any of these men could hope to stand against. Not in an open all out fight no, but, if we pull this gig like Bonette, then it just, might, work. He figured they would have a weak or so, tops. If they were really unlucky, the next couple of days, he hoped that wouldn't be the case. Draco looked back to the room with his friends, and nudged Johnson.
"Well, let's go have some fun, while we still got time,"
"You sure? Shouldn't we be preparing?"
"This is preparing, it's giving us good memories to fight for. Without something to keep us going, we won't have motivation. And besides, I want to make my tab back from Will, little ******* apparently didn't know I sent C-bills to rebuild that bar,"
Johnson laughed, and then looked at Draco.
"You'll have to tell me about it sometime,"
Draco got up and headed for the room, Johnson, close behind. He whispered to Johnson at first.
"Probably on the way home, so let's introduce ourselves,"
Turning to the group at the table.
"Well everyone, I have a friend with me, as some of you know, and Johnson was wondering if he could join in on our game of poker,"
Draco and Johnson then sat down, and began to play. It was a great night.
(Next post will be of the following morning, Sloth, Rogue, either of you will be finishing the game up,)

[RogueSpear]

"Johnson...good to see you again." Spear leaned back in his chair. "Business or pleasure?"
The sniper's eyes flickered slightly, barely moving, unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it - like a mind wanting to look to it's superior for orders but knowing that would give the game up.
"Business. You think the Dragoons would really put this old Wolf in charge?" He laughed loudly.
Spear's eyes tightened slightly at the corners.
"Not even a little, but you even less. When's Natasha coming in to tuck you into bed, kiss your little foreheads and sing you softly to sleep so she can get your new playhouse up and running?"
Wary as he was, he grinned as the two Dragoons straightened at the jibe. "Ah forgettit. Sit down, let's play some cards while the newbies swap stories. Then we'll tell our new Jockess friend about some real fights."
The night went on, the mechwarriors all swapping stories and drinking. Spear lost some money at the poker - he never could remember the hands. Quads beat triples and triples beat pairs was about all he could remember.
As they all headed out at closing time, he shook hands with them all and then slapped his head. "Oh! I forgot, Will, I need to talk to you about storing my boys and girls, we're still sitting on the dropship."Should give me a minute to see if he knows anythi-
"Send them round to Castle whenever you're ready Gav," Said Draco. "We've got plenty of space. No charge."
No char-. Well we're all screwed.
"Thanks Draco, how soon do you need them there?"
Draconis Wolf locked gazes with him, their eyes cold and sober. "Yesterday." He said, and faked a smile.

[Sparks Murphey]

Heather groaned and opened an eye a crack. Last night’s drinking was coming back with a vengeance, her heart pounding a cacophony against her aching skull. She’d had a few late night benders in her time, but a month’s relatively sober travel by dropship had left her out of form.

She sat up in the bunk and straightened a few creases from her crumpled clothes. She had hazy memories of following Will and the kid back to the Vulkaneers’ base last night, before flopping down on the first bunk she’d found. The smell of ale and sweat clung to her and her mouth tasted like she’d licked her command couch clean, but there was something she had to do before that.

She stumbled groggily through from the quarters and out to the mech bay. Techs climbed over the machines, casually preforming the routine maintenance that would keep them in prime condition. More importantly, from Heather’s point of view, anyway, was the 50 tons of steel, ceramics and myomer that made up her Enforcer, the Furnace. There were some scrape marks in the paint job on its left arm, but otherwise her ride appeared to have made it here safely.

With a sigh of relief, Heather turned and headed for the showers. She still had a bunch of checks to run on the machine after its long journey, but that could wait until she didn’t smell so horrid.

[guardian wolf]

Draco got up out of the bed, his head, in a haze. He wasn't actually feeling that bad, as he wasn't that hungover. He shook his head, and took a drink of water. Draco looked around, and slipped his vest on. He strapped his laser pistol in it's place, just under his left rib cage. His grenades, small but powerful explosives, he stuck on the inside of his vest. He washed his hair in the sink, and splashed water on his face. Draco then strapped on his combat boots, and then headed out into the hallway. He walked down the metallic corridor, and entered into the mech bay. Rogue's techs had already arrived, and were unloading mechs into bays, and Draco took a look at the bay that held the Archer. And the tech's were still working hard on it. Draco walked down the steps and walked down towards the bay. Draco met a gang of techs that were headed towards the barracks.
"Where you boys headed?"
They quickly, and sleepily saluted.
"We are off to get some sleep sir, and something to eat, we have been working all night on that Archer,"
"What is the status on that Archer?"
"Almost done sir, all that's left is putting the armor plating back on,"
Draco suppressed a surprised look, these techs certainly worked fast, especially with Rick's "guidance".
"Well, get what's needed, there's some chow in the mess if you want some, try to save some for me when I get back,"
"Aff sir,"
Draco watched as another mech was sent into the bay next to the Archer, and the amazed tech that watched the others work on the Archer. Draco spotted Rick, and then walked toward the base of the mech. He nearly shouted at the top of his lungs to yell at him.
"Hey, Rick, how is she? Will she walk? Better yet, will she shoot?"
Draco awaited the answer, if not, then he'd just have to take one of the other mechs, but the Archer looked pretty damn good from his point of view.

[Sparks Murphey]

The empty streets of the mock-up town boomed with footfalls as Heather’s Enforcer pounded its way along the concrete. She’d asked the techs if there was somewhere she could take the machine for a test run, and they’d suggested here.

It felt good to be back in the pilot seat after such a long voyage, she thought, monitoring the stresses on the leg myomers as they drove the Enforcer forward in a moderate walk. After so long in the cramped confines of the dropship, the open space of the training range felt huge, even if in reality she was squeezed into the even small space of the ‘Mech’s cockpit.

Satisfied that the myomers were adjusted correctly, Heather slowed the Enforcer to a stop, and took sight on a nearby fake mailbox. With swift fingers, she set the PPC housed in the right charging, though only to a fraction of its usual damage potential. She floated the crosshairs over the mailbox, and pulled the PPCs trigger. An arc of blue lightning flashed from the weapon, striking the concrete a good three yards left of the box. She cursed softly, and adjusted a few numbers, setting myomer and mechanisms in motion to correct the positioning of the particle cannon. Another pull of the trigger, and this time the lightning struck the mailbox, leaving arcs of electricity crawling over it.

She practiced her aim on the poor mailbox for another 15 minutes, slowly blackening its paint as she worked up from stationary shots, to quick torso twists, to shots on the run. It was as she was landing her first jump jet shot that a loud twang sounded from below and a light lit up on the damage control panel. One of the myomer bundles in the upper left leg had snapped under the strain of landing. The actuator would still function, but with no hostiles on the planet, it didn’t make sense not to get it repaired right away. She sighed and turned the ‘Mech back towards the tunnels leading to the base.

[MacabreDerek]

"Yea, she'll fight..." Rick choked back. The confiction between throttling Draco for forcing his decision on which mechs took priority, and more so letting his techs wander off for chow and rack was feeling like salt on the wounds, and being the proper solider and mechanic he needed was growing strong. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but he couldn't help but be cross, and it showed on Rick's face.

Rick lifted the large metal plate on the bench and brought the four-hundred pound sheet of armour to the foot of the mech, laying it against the ankle of the giant gladiator. Rick rubbed the small of his back afterwards, regretting not doing the job properly with a lift, but he had to put that aggression out on something, and it was not going to be his commander. Besides, despite being short and fat, he was very strong, the kind of strength you could never develop in decades of combat training, and it felt good to 'show off'. Yea, it was definitely a lack of sleep.

Pulling the cutting torch close, he watched the hot blue flame almost explode out of the tip. "You already know my concerns, Sir. I... I will trust in your judgement." The lie stuck in his throat and felt more bitter coming up than any bit of vomit after shore-leave experience he ever had. Placing the dark goggles over his eyes, he began to start cutting along the lines etched in white chalk along the large piece of metal.

After a few minutes of silent cutting, he turned the torch off. Balling his fist, he brought it back and punched the metal chunk he was cutting, it fell to the floor with a loud 'clang'. "Is that all Sir, or are you gonna pick up a wrench and start pullin? Kerensky knows those lazy techs coulda been here at least another hour at least, maybe two. Wouldn't ask em if I wasn't willing to pull the stint with em. Though I guess that's how most of you mech jocks opperate, you just pull a wrench here or there, but for the most part you're in and you're out, right?"

Rick's eyes went wide realizing what he just said. He slumped down on the ground, covering his face with the gloves stained and cracked. "I'm... I am sorry Sir. It's... It Has been a long night. You were right to let them get to their racks. There is just so much more to be done, and so little time. I do not think I could sleep if I tried, it would eat at me, you know? The work never done, that one more plate to weld or bolt to tighten or something, something that could be done before...." He realized he was rambling.

Reaching inside his tool box beside him, he pulled out a can of Zoom beer, the cheap market stuff he got hooked on in Solaris 7. Cracking it open, he drank from it heavily. After taking a moment he breathed out with a sigh. "I did not earn those Colours Draco...." Rick felt using his name instead of Sir would change to tone of the thought, maybe make it more personal and let his commander know what kind of sorry sack he had put his chips on.

"I got them after a mistake, friendly fire incident because of a pirate raid. They fired on me, or maybe me on them, we could never get that straight. What we did get to note was the confusion came because She looked like she did, a salvage-yard Frankenstein's monster, looked like a run-in-the-mill pirate mech. So when the shooting finally settled and we half-blasted ourselves to Kerensky's exodus, one of them painted the arm with me over night, a visual cue to stop the mistake from happening again."

It became clear in Rick's shoulders that he was tired. Not from the lack of sleep, but because of him trying to live up to something he was not. The expectation of being able to 'earn' the colours of Wolf's Dragoons on his mech was burdening him heavily, and finally he just gave way to the pressure. He had been pushing himself more and more to get all the mechs in the hanger ready for the encounter that loomed over all their heads, and finally it was just too much.

"There's a reason no one heard of 'The Great Mop-Boy' in the merc circles. At best, I am a garrison duty pilot, always have been. Everyone I run into claims to be the best of the best, every one of them running with the elites and high-rollers. 'Best of the best'... Well, I guess today Draco, you have the misfortune of running into 'the rest'. Bottom of the barrel, just trying to do some kind of good in this fracked up universe before someone puts a bullet between my eyes."

He took another long haul of his beer. After a moment, he placed it down on the floor between his feet.

"You know what the part of it that really eats at me Draco? That part that really gets under my skin? When I first started out, I could not even make enough money to get off planet to even start my hand at being a merc. Ya know what I did? Gave kids rides in my Archer. I was a one-man amusement park for months. A bit of farm land, some cheap flyers, losing 70% of my cut to the farmer for tearing up his fields. And every one of them looked at me and said 'Wow, a Real Mechwarrior'. They saw me as something more than a *** **** grease monkey. It was the coolest thing they ever seen, and how they would tell stories to their friends about how they got to ride in a mech with a pilot who seen real action."

"And then I got to see their parents go along with the lie. They lied through their teeth just to give those kids something more than just saying it was a bum giving kiddies a ride. Oh, the lies. It made me sick to my stomach. It's pain Draco, the real thing, that kind of pain you bury under mountains of beer cans and stims."

"When some kid calls you a hero, and believes it with every breath they can take, and you know your not, that is.... it's.... Kerensky damn it. Guess it is not something a guy like you would know. You're Dubya-Dee(W.D), you are the big-boys. Big time heroes with big time names and big time paychecks. The rest of us, we are not heroes, and if we get anywhere, it is because we put more time, sweat and blood than anyone just to get half-way there."

Shooting back the rest of his beer, he crumpled the can. Standing up, Rick reached far back, and threw the can at his Archer's black-and-red painted arm. Rick was grateful that his welding goggles were down, so Draco wouldn't see the bitter tears starting to swell in the corner of his eye. He took up the cutting torch and turned it back on, turning the flame into a searing blue. Rick began cutting the sheet of ferro-fibrus armour, breathing heavily.

"There is more work to be done, I've been at this for over forty hours, I can get a couple more in. They can keep their show-room piece mechs, they can keep their academy training, they can keep their fancy crews and high-end do-hickeys and thing-a-ma-jiggers, but they will NEVER put in more time, sweat and blood into this than I do. Never."

Edited by MacabreDerek, 13 May 2012 - 01:05 AM.

[guardian wolf]

Draco crossed his arms as Rick spoke, there was working hard, but, then there was stupidly working hard. He was about to give a retort when Rick's tone changed, as to explain why he was bitter. Draco immediately understood, the man didn't think he had it in him, which was understandable, in Draco's second op, he watched one of his close friends die, get torn apart by an Atlas. He finished the op, and was seen unfit for combat duty for three weeks, and finally, Dylan pulled him out of his slump. He figured it's time that he passed on that same advice, to someone who needed it.
"Rick, what do you do when you find a mech in a scrap heap, that no one else wants to repair, or save, but you? You go ahead and fix it, right? Rick, I've seen the harshness of combat, and the realities of war, and in it, there are no heroes, not in the sense of the word. There are survivors, and there are soldiers, and every now and then you get a damn good leader. The real heroes, are whoever you see them as heroes. Dylan, my superior officer, and mentor, was a hero, to me, not to the rest of the Sphere, he saved me countless times, and sacrificed himself so that I could live. Rick, there are lots of so called wannabe mech jocks, everyone has that dream, but, very few realize what that life means, especially as a Hell Jumper. Out of my graduating class of 20, I, Phiro, Johnson, Connors, and Jones, are all that's left. We are not heroes, not at all, I've been in places that make you want to throw up your innards, and then ask for seconds. I done a lot of things that I regret, but there is one thing that keeps me going, and that's people like you. I see someone like you, who have so much potential, that is waiting for the key, you know how to survive on foot, outside of the battlemech, you know how to repair your mech, you know it inside and out. Rick, you have something that a lot of people don't have, and that's heart. You are able to motivate people, albeit in different ways, and you are able to continue past when others have dropped due to lack of sleep, or starvation. Rick, I want you to go in to the mess, get some food in you, and sleep for two hours, when you get back, I'll have her ready for some field testing. Consider it a standing order,"
Draco smiled to show his expectation, and humor.
"After all, you have been busting your *** pretty hard around here, and I want you fresh for when you take this monstrosity for a test run,"
He started to look over the Archer, and it was in a lot better shape than it had been. Draco started to climb up and inspect actuators, all in working order, he walked around the myomer, it was in good shape, and then began to check some of the wiring, no problems. He couldn't wait to see it in action.

Edited by guardian wolf, 14 May 2012 - 07:37 AM.

[Sparks Murphey]

Back in the mech bay, Heather’s powerwrench whirred as it stripped the bolts from her ‘mech’s left leg. She checked the magclamp on the hoist was active, then swung the hundred kilo armour panel away from the inner workings.

As she and Astech Fitzgerald peered in, it wasn’t hard to see the damage. The extrinsic abduction myomer bundle had snapped near the hip, leaving the cavity sprawling with loose cables and conductive fluid.

Fitzgerald looked in with a scowl. “Did you rebalance the gyro sensor arrays before you got here?”

“Did I redo the what now?”

Fitzgerald reached in and dipped a gloved finger in some of the dripping fluid, and gave it a sniff.

“No. No you did not. Your ‘mech is still operating for 1.1Gs.” He said, climbing back down the ladder.

“What, you got that from the smell of some goop your scraped out?” Heather demanded.

“Solaris 7’s gravity is 1.1Gs. Barcelona is 0.95. Doesn’t make much difference for you or I, not after the gravity shifts of dropship acceleration and weightlessness. But it matters to her,” he said, giving a nod to the ‘mech. “If the sensor arrays aren’t rebalanced every time you move worlds, the myomer control circuits will anticipate footfalls and landings wrongly. Resulting in messes like this. My guess would be that on your last landing, the left leg got a bigger electrical pulse than it needed, over-tensioning it and snapping the bundle. The fluids are still heavily ionised. The rest I got from the fact that you’ve never been off world before.”

Heather rolled her eyes. Now the techs were getting snippy.

“How long will it take to fix?”

“Well, I’d say about an hour to clean out the cavity and replace the bundle. Maybe another to rebalance the arrays. You’re lucky, the Trebuchet over there has much the same myomer layout, so we’ve got a close pattern to work from. Of course, if you know what you’re doing, you could clean out the cavity yourself while I work on an array solution.”

“Done.”

[Sloth901]

Will awoke in the cockpit of his Rifleman wondering what had transpired last night. He vaguely remembered losing a lot of money playing cards, he tried to sit up right but cringed and went back to a slump in his seat as the world around him went Hazy and it suddenly hurt to think. Glancing at the time it was only 0600, everyone would still be asleep. He opened his cockpit and breathed in the fresh morning air...
Wait WHAT!?!?!?!

Will looked around; he was outside in the urban training grounds, but why...

Oh for Kerensky’s sake no, I didn’t, did I?

The realisation that he must have piloted drunk last night sunk into him, Will just started to laugh, it must have sounded as if he was going crazy, in truth he was, I mean what had he just done… I operated a heavy War machine whilst drunk. I’m not even going to think about how wrong this is.

He fired up the reactor and cut off the computers voice, he didn’t need her making his head ache worse. He glanced at the screens making sure everything was okay. One caught his eye; his right arm was apparently missing...
How???

I mean no matter how drunk I was there was absolutely no way I could tear that arm off alone, it’s just too sturdy, the right arm was laying in the street about 100 metres away, The mech moved forward through what was left of the training ground, several mock buildings where full of holes, collapsed, or simply gone. What had happened, both Autocannons had been drained of ammo, probably explaining the majority of the holes, but he didn’t have enough ammo to cause all this, unless somehow he’d also loaded his mech whilst drunk which would be difficult if not impossible.

It would be best that no one learns of this, my uncle would go ballistic and then Draco and Spear would just laugh, I couldn’t give Draco anything to rip him with after the roasting about the bar incident he gave him. At least he thought he did, “Mech Power up detected.” truth be told he didn’t remember anything of last night which would usually indicate a good night but given the circumstances…Wait a second re wind did that just say ‘mech power up detected’? Will panicked checking his radar, it was behind him, he turned feeling a bit sick with the motion and brought the only attached and loaded weapon, a large laser, to a firing position, The mech was behind a 5 story mock building made of wood and cinder blocks, Will was quite honestly surprised it was still standing but that didn’t matter now, he aimed just to the side of the building waiting for this contact to appear. Will gasped as Spear’s Devastator appeared limping.

No way did we have a mech battle whilst drunk. It would explain all the wrecked buildings, no matter how accurate you are sober, that would go out the window after having something to drink…
“Spear, No matter what, We DO NOT admit this to Draco.”