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[Iron Heart Dragon]

Murdoc Doyle had observed the meeting from his seat near the foot of the briefing table. He had not spoken during the briefing, and had simply observed the antics of what were now his comrades-in-arms. A tall, wirey man of about thirty, Murdoc had spent most of the meeting intently imputing information into his small computer as he took notes. It was important to know where the lances were being deployed and what their likely mission route would be, although that particular information was locked into an encrypted and security passworded file that would self-delete after two failed entry attempts.

When the meeting adjourned, Murdoc had stood and silently left the room to head to the Mech bay, as the commander had suggested. His Cyclops 10-HQ was there waiting for him, looking more streamlined than the typical Cyclops without the barrel of an autocannon jutting out from the right torso. The large, armored cockpit of the machine housed two command seats, with one riding behind and somewhat above the forward seat. The Cyclops 10-HQ was equipped with a much more complex and powerful communication suite, which allowed for direct uplinks to satellites and regimental-wide communications.

[Highlighter]

The cockpit of the BL-6-KNT Black Knight glowed faintly as Felix Maan went through the usual pre-drop rituals. The Mechwarrior had gone through his share of drops during his time in the AFFS, but each time he wanted to double check everything. The weapons monitor glowed green, and his HUD display showed the multitude of lasers and PPCs charged and ready. His fusion engine was idling safely and without incident, and the armor diagrams reported pristine and unblemished sheets of ferro-plate. The Blue Suns commander looked once more at the rune signifying the status of his ‘Mech’s drop pack. That little indicator was perhaps the most critical green light amidst the sea of green blips: if his drop pack failed, he’d plummet to the earth with the grace and aerodynamics of a falling mountain, and with the same, fatal result.

The tactical map sitting near the bottom corner of his HUD flashed once, telling Felix that the they were nearing the first drop zone. It was still many klicks out, but it wouldn’t be long before they’d be in position for the hot drop. Command and Alpha Lances would hit dirt first, and then the DropShip would take Bravo Lance to the secondary site. As soon as they were all grounded, they’d proceed to where the pirates were hiding. If everything went according to plan, they’d engage Linda’s Raiders within a half hour and returning to base in a few hours more.

As wary and overcautious Nelson had been, Felix knew that Linda’s Raiders weren’t that tough. His people were very good, and he didn’t expect to have much trouble dispatching the pirates. But nothing ever went according to plan, Felix reminded himself, and so he was prepared to spend the better part of the evening and early morning pursuing these pirates.

“Commander Maan,” came the voice of the DropShip’s captain, Kurt Renzer. “We’re about three minutes from drop. Four until we reach LZ bravo.”

“Thank you, Captain Renzer,” Felix replied. He switched frequencies back to the general company channel. “Okay men, three minutes until Command and Alpha drop. Four until Bravo drops. Report in.”

[Iron Heart Dragon]

Murdoc settled into the command chair of his Cyclops 10-HQ and pulled the straps of his five-point harness across himself, locked them into place and then tugged on the ends of the straps to tighten them. He hated orbital drops, but he wasn't about to complain to his new boss about it, especially on the first mission. Hearing his commander call over the comms, he pulled his neurohelmet on and keyed his mic.

"Sir, this is Command Three checking in. All systems nominal, Command Three is green light." He watched one of his communication panels to make sure the unit was broadcasting clearly to each other. The signal strength on their current channel was strong.

While the rest of the unit checked in, he pulled a cable down from where it was connected to the cieling of the cockpit. He plugged it into the side of his helmet and gave it a slight twist to lock it into place. He felt a tingle run up and down his spine as he became one with his mech. He was ready.

[Dreadstar]

Mac settled his massive frame into his specially designed command chair, and then fully strapped himself in securely. After a moment, he flipped several switches, and the giant Atlas suddenly began roaring to life as the reactors came online. Reaching down to the side of his chair he pulled up his helmet, which was painted in the same color scheme as the Auntie Ann, and connected the Neural wire.

Mac's body shook for a moment as the massive mech's functional controls and system connected to Mac's own neural system. "Oh momma, dat feels better than that h00ker I had on Perth a few weeks ago." He smiled broadly and chomped down on his cigar."

Mentally he opened the comm unit. "Commander. Auntie is primed and ready ta git her groove on!"

"Command and Alpha kiddies, I'll hae da LAMs, Beagles and Angels online on touchdown, so keep ya a$$e$ tight to ma skirts, an' i'll relay any bogies. "

With that, the Atlas moved to the edge of the drop doors, it's massive feet clanging deafeningly against the bay's steel enforced floors. Her giant metal hand reached up and grabbed a large mech sized handhold over the drop doors to steady the mech.

Edited by Dreadstar, 02 May 2012 - 07:12 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Orson nodded as the commander walked off to check on his mech. He lingered a moment checking the terrain maps on the holoprojector.

Now if I was on defense... I'd put my guys there, there, there and there. Mine the Hell out of the easy approaches, and make the enemy bleed themselves dry... Not much to work with here, these bandits aren't fools.

He made a mental note to update his will. No reason his exwife, despite how much he hated her guts, should miss out on some extra cash. She already took him for everything else.. He took one last look at the maps then headed off to double check all the systems on his mech. Just in case... He hoped that all the Yahoos in his unit was doing likewise. He had a feeling that he was gonna have to rely on his lancemates... They had all the heavy hardware.

[guardian wolf]

Chris heard the start up, and check in call. He fired up his main reactor, and brought all secondary systems to life. He put on his helmet, and plugged in the cord to initialize sync between him and his mech. The only thing he felt was that confirming twitch on his back that he was live. He'd done this too many damn times, and it was going to be another run. He held on to a picture, it was of the woman he'd loved. She was a scientist back on the homeworlds, but had come along on the first resupply run. He set it in the console, and brought the mech to walk up to the doors.
"This is Bravo Three, checking in, my systems are up, and good to go. Hey Barrett, race you down?"
He threw in the Hell Jumper joke, as to kinda lighten the mood. Barrett was a damn good pilot, and command sent him to cover Barrett's back, though something didn't feel right about this one. Pirates always have the home field advantage, and they knew where to run, where to defend, and what to do. He sighed, and stepped up behind Mac's Atlas. He looked over the jump pack on the back, seemed good, wasn't anything wrong. Chris settled into his seat, awaiting the order to go.

[DocBach]

The JagerMech was almost finished with its start up routine. Nelson sat in his command couch, his leg shaking, nervously fidgeted with Chris's dogtags as he waited for his 'Mech to power completely up so he could run his final pre-combat checks checks.

Out of nowhere a warning klaxxon blared, startling him. He jumped, dropping the dog tags under his command couch. Several screens in his HUD started flashing red screens displaying various warnings. What the hell? Everything was green to go just a second ago...

Nelson looked at his center console.

A list of problems to troubleshoot formed, scrolling down the screen faster than Nelson could keep up reading.

...Critical Failure - Hip Actuator L
...Critical Failure - Hip Actuator R
...Critical Failure - Foot Actuator L
...Critical Failure - Foot Actuator R
...Critical Failure - Gyro Calibration
...Critical Failure - Engine Power Level
...Critical Failure - Ammunition Feed System (AC/2-1)
...Critical Failure - Ammunition Feed System (AC/2-2)
...Critical Failure - Particle Cannon Capacitor (PPC-A)
...Critical Failure - Particle Cannon Capacitor (PPC-
...Critical Failure - Sensors

Nelson's HUD displaying the output from his Garret computer went blank.

...Critical Failure - Life Support

The internal lights of his cockpit dimmed and emergency red lights hummed on. The air conditioning shut off, making the inside of his cockpit nearly silent besides the beeping of his computer printing out errors and the slowly dying hum of his fusion reactor.

...Critical Failure - Engine

"Shutting down," said his JagerMech's computer in an emotionless female voice.

"What the hell is going on?" Nelson started the power up sequence again, but his JagerMech did not respond.

[Xinaoen]

Xin ran a final systems' check as his squadmates' 'Mechs began to power up, and then began scanning the 'Mech bay. His reticle settled on Nelson's Jagermech, and he surreptitiously zoomed in for a closer look. A moment later, the Jager slumped over, steam billowing from its exhaust ports. Xin cackled to himself. Forget a commendation; he'd be sending the tech staff a case of whiskey after this mission.

Xin took a moment to collect himself, and then opened the comm; his voice was crisp and professional, belying his restrained laughter.

"Command One, this is Bravo Four. All systems nominal; prepared for drop. Over."

[DocBach]

Nelson tried to report his status, but his communications systems long since failed. He waved his hands frantically through his viewport but could not get his attention. He tried to knock on the plexisteel glass plate. His attempts to get the attention of a tech seemed futile.

Worse yet, the shut down of his life support system and power supply kicked in the emergency cockpit support systems, which included emergency locks...

[guardian wolf]

Chris took a rudimentary check around the bay as everyone was lining up in into formation, and saw in his review camera caught Nelson, waving like a madman in his mech. He started laughing as he had heard that a tech had left a surprise, but he didn't expect that, and nor would he tolerate prolonging his suffering for a laugh. It wasn't the way that the Dragoons ran a company, and so, it wouldn't be the way that he would handle this. He pressed the button on the loud speaker system, and made a mental note to find out who did it afterwards.
"Alright techs, we've had our laugh get the kink out of his damn mech, or I start spraying these MGs over you,"
To show he meant business, he turned his mech's torso, and spun the MGs, the techs immediately ran for Nelson's mech, and one of them climbed up, and pulled a small box off of the back of the torso. In a few seconds, the mech began to whir back to life, and the tech scrambled back down as the mech powered up. Chris silently hoped he tripped in front of the foot of the mech, when it took its first step. He switched back to the comms, and radioed Nelson.
"You alright, seems like we had a bit of friendly sabotage going 'round. Keep your damn head, **** happens,"
He saw the mech start up, and the hatch pop, and he saw Nelson scramble out. Damn techs, always ******* with the rookies. He sighed, at least he got to it before Barrett, that crazy ****** would have really started shooting, with his temper.


EDIT: didn't see Doc's post in OOC thread.

Edited by guardian wolf, 03 May 2012 - 07:48 PM.

[MacabreDerek]

"This is beginning to feel like it's curling up slowly and finding a throat to choke."

With those words leaving his lips, the engine began to hum. The computer continued in that annoying tone telling him all the systems were nominal, though Barret left little attention to it. His fingers gripped the control white-knuckled, feeling the worn and torn leather at his fingertips. The coolant vest felt restrictive, and he could feel it gripping his lungs. A smile cut his face like a cruel razor wound, as he flicked on the com button.

"Command One, This is Bravo 2, Poison reads all systems are a go." He could feel his heart race, and the blood pump behind his eyes.

"Hey Barrett, race you down?" Chris making a bad joke on the com, to which Barret decided to respond in kind. "I would, but love to see you miss your mark six feet vertically."

Leaning back, he felt the weight of his neuro-helm weigh his head back, the strain in his neck after so long wearing the heavy gear had made Barret convinced that his neck was already half-broke. The cramped cockpit wasn't making things any better, it was bringing about a moment of anxiety that could only come from the claustrophobia induced by some previous experience of a downed mech.

The Vindicator began to move into place for the Hot-Drop, the express elevator to hell, going directly down with the hardest stop most human beings could fathom before boned broke and internal organs turned to jell. Barret placed his hand on his collar, feeling the missing dog-tags that would have been there if he had not given them. He had his own take on the Wolf's show of trust, and it was never to his squad-mates.

He looked over Bravo Lance as he moved into possition. Chris was tormenting engineers like they needed to be threatened to do their jobs. "And they accuse me of bravado?" he snickered. His hand dropped from his chest and felt the knife closed and secured to his hip right next to his pistol. His fingers traced over it as he begun to remind himself of the horrible things he had to do with the sharpened blade, and more so a hope he would have to do it again. He imagined getting shot out of the sky, and ejecting into atmosphere, and having to once again survive a gruesome guerrilla campaign until evac was made possible.

The sound of his Vindicator being locked into place pulled him back to the present. His hands gripping controls tightly again, he awaited the eternal four minutes until he would be plunged planet-side, and then the real work would begin...

[Joe Davion 86]

Joe quickly climbed back up into his Black Jack unlike most of the other 'Mech he had jumpjets and didn't need the bulky harness that they did. He ran one final prestart checklist and seeing all green across the board, chimed in his status. "Alpha Three locked and ready to rock, sir." He moved towards the hatches meant for Alpha and Command lance. "Once more into the breach eh, Helga?" he whispered to his 'Mech. 45 tons of war machine responded to his gentle touches and thoughts. As an after thought Joe reached up and flipped through his personal music stored on a small data drive. Finding his favored drop song, he cranked the old heavy metal up and sat; waiting for that one little word.

Edited by Joe Davion 86, 03 May 2012 - 09:17 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

Orson meandered on back to the mechbay. He knew that unlike some of his fellow mech jocks, he was good to go and fully preped. As he strolled he thought over the maps in his head.

They weren't pretty images. His mech was designed for open ground where he could use his speed to harass and annoy the enemy. With the probible defences laid out by the pirates he'd most likely be slogging through the forsest to get to their base of operations. He didn't like that idea either... but it sure beat the idea of tapdancing his Hermes through a minefield.

And there he was, standing at the foot of his mech. He took a moment and looked over the 40 tonner with a loving look, then began to climb up the rungs welded up the mechs leg and torso, to the Hermes shoulder. He pulled himself on up to the shoulder and entered through a hatch in the side of the mech's head.

There in the shadowy confines of the cockpit he took a moment and relaxed. He stripped down to his skivies and doned his mechgear, an ancient coolant vest a battered neural helmet and a set of plasteel boots that covered him from foot to knee. Orson plopped down into his command chair and began the start up sequence. A boney finger stabbed away at buttons on the console and lights began to light up on the various monitors.

"Voice pattern match initiated." Chimmed the mech.

"Oh, shut up and let me drive." He answered absentmindedly.

"Voice pattern match check complete. Controls now reliquished to you. Give them Hell, Mechwarrior."

Orson sat back and breathed in the musky stale air as the consoles lit up with data informing him on coolant levels, ammo loads, and various other things.

"Well girl, you ready to do this?" He asked out loud, not expecting an answer. But really wishing for some words of encouragement. But only silence answered him.

"Yeah, me neither."

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 07 May 2012 - 06:09 PM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

It was an epicly long wait for the combat drop to comense... Orson wiped a sweaty palm against the rough fabric of his coolant vest. Then stabbed away at the buttons on his console with a boney finger, brining his systems down to standby. The wait was getting to him.

"Why am I as nervous as a virgin on prom night." He asked out loud.

[Charles Martel]

Cornelius smiled. The Marauder has always been his favorite mech since he was a kid. Childhood, not that far in the past but very far away by distance. There was a time and place for reminiscing, and before a drop wasn't that time.

"Maddie's hot-to-trot, time to let some pirates reap the whirlwind." he intoned over the coms. Even if you weren't 100% confident, malcontent or fear could grow like a disease if one gave into them in front of others. Better to be thought an over-confident blowhard, than to undermine one's fellows.