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[cmopatrick]

Seven of us sit around a small fire in the shadow of Tornado's mostly burnt out hulk: Lieutenant Fatima Al-Zafirah, the much bandaged Master Chief Hanse Wolte, Ensign Lloyd Marks in his unexpectedly crisp uniform, Quartermaster Sonya Tavares with a blood stained bandage about her forehead and another on her left forearm, Chief Anne Zachary with casts on both feet, the somewhat burnt but sedated and bandaged Deckhand Lisa Monroe, and myself. We have roasted a side of beef we salvaged from the damaged coolers and are just finishing a feast few of us could have foreseen and I suspect none of us are likely to have again soon.

“Well, I guess this is as close to a meeting as we will get,” I start.
Master Wolte smiles and nods, “Go on, Lieutenant.”
“Um, so what do we do now?”
My question hangs for a few moments.
“Elect a leader,” Lisa says finally.
“Shouldn't we just go by rank?” Anne asks.
“No.” Fatima's bluntness is abrupt and rather unexpected. “I would be senior, but I neither want nor deserve to lead.”
Anne looks hurt by this revelation, but her expression changes fairly quickly to acceptance and she nods and says nothing.
Fatima continues, “We should elect. But first we need to know who our options are.” She looks around the group of us. “Ensign Marks? Are you interested in leading?”
He looks at us, each in turn. It seems obvious that he is undecided. Finally, “well, I’m a navigator. I was trained on New Avalon, but by a mercenary unit and not the AFFS Navy. In space I know what I’m doing, but...” here he looks rather behind him at the battered hull of our dropship, “that doesn't quite seem likely soon. Never even wanted to drive one of those,” he points at our Ravens. With a shrug he finishes, “I can if need be but I would think there would be better.”
Fatima looks at Master Wolte and he answers the unspoken question, “no, I don't want to lead beyond the ground crew. I do, however have a nomination...” surprisingly, he looks at me and continues, “Lieutenant O'Brian.”
“What?!” I sputter.
“Hear me out. You are one of our two pilots and a pilot should lead. You know you aren't good enough to think you can do it all on your own and need the whole team... we all need it. But you have also shown glimpses of leadership from the day I brought you on board. Granted, you need an alarm clock sewn into your shirt, but I vote for you.”
I'm stunned. All the more so by what comes next.
“Yes,” Lt, Al-Zafirah says quietly. “He will need guidance, but he learns very quickly and as long as pride does not get in his way, he will do. I believe we need a pilot to lead and as I have never been a true member of the GZR... for now, that leaves him. I do think that as an elected leader, we should also reserve the right to vote at some later point to see if we wish to retain him in that role.”
“Wait...” I start.
Sonya interrupts, “yeah, I can see it, too. I vote for the Lieutenant.”
“But I don't want...”
Anne says, “All in favor?”
Six voices say, “Aye.”
My silence is the exception. How did that happen? I'm so stunned by this that while they are all looking at me, I can't bring myself to say anything but, “are you sure? I mean, ME?!”
Not sure what I said that was funny, but there are smiles and chuckles all around... all the while, everyone is nodding.
“But I have no idea what to do.”
“Start with an inventory, Lieutenant,” Sonya says with a practicality that I envy at least a little.
Master Wolte nods in agreement.
While I figure they will change their minds shortly, I decide to go along with this advice, “Ok, what do we have that is usable or salvageable?”

“We need to do a good inventory in the morning,” Master Wolte starts, “but I believe we might actually have an additional 'Mech almost at combat ready.”
“How?” I ask.
“The Black Knight was in it's jaws in the rebuild unit. That unit is reinforced to keep accidental explosions inside from doing much damage outside... I couldn't be sure when I peeped in earlier, but it looked to me like it might still be intact, or at least mostly so.”
“Well, if it is, then with Lieutenant Al-Zafira as our best pilot, she should get it.”
“No!” Fatima nearly shouts in defiance.
“Who else is there?”
“You.”
“Not a chance, and you know it.”
“He's right, Lt. Al-Zafirah.” It is Anne's suddenly quiet voice that cuts though the circle as if she had screamed it.
“If I have to lead, why can't I say the best pilot gets the best 'Mech?”
Now there are five heads nodding in agreement with me and only Fatima disagrees.
“The Raven is mine. It is not GZR property. I will pilot my own 'Mech.”
“Well, then I guess we leave that behind, what next Master...”
“No!” Ensign Marks is now frustrated. “He's right, the best has to work in the best for all our survival. If you are with us, you need to accept this until we have other options.”
I think of something, “Well, if we can get the Black Knight running to your satisfaction, how about we trade it to you along with some amount of c-bills for your 3L?”
“No, Lieutenant,” Sonya says clearly, “the BK is worth more.”
Fatima looks at her coolly, “and the newer 3L with the Guardian and Beagle is much rarer.” She looks back at me, “go on, I am listening.”
“Well, if we are the Green Zone Riders now and I am the 'leader' then I can handle our accounts and resources as I think best serves the unit, with input from others, correct?”
There seems to be general agreement around the group.
“We may not be able to access the c-bill accounts,” Lt. Marks says thoughtfully.
“What about pick of the best weapons from the salvage to get it into the best form?”
“Twenty percent of future salvage value and profits.”
Master Wolte and Sonya both look at me and shake their heads “no.”
Before I can reply, Fatima corrects herself, “Fifteen.”
“What was your old deal with Colonel Greer?” My query seems simple enough, but Hanse nods in obvious approval.
“We are not talking about what was. We are here now and you want my 'Mech.”
“No, I want you in the best 'Mech because you can shoot a heck of a lot better than I can.”
“Admit that you covet the 3L.”
Do I? It doesn't set my heart racing like things I have been told I coveted before did.
“No, Ma'am. It might be nice to learn, but I don't see me doing what granda called 'coverting'... well if I remember his definition correctly.”
She looks at me carefully. “No, I guess you don't, do you? Then I would settle for ten percent of the salvage value or fifteen of the profits.”

It seems I remember granda telling me about ways to seem reasonable while getting an increasingly good deal down the road. “Never pass up trading a set high value today for a seemingly insignificant percentage tomorrow... when clear expectation of success just makes that amount so much bigger.”
“All the salvage value of what we can take with us and one percent above your normal salvage and c-bill shares for as long as we have seven members, to be adjusted proportionally if/when we add personnel.”
“You sound like a dealer in a Baghdad bazaar.” She smiles, nevertheless, “done and done... presuming I am satisfied with it.”
“I will crew it for you, Lieutenant,” Master Wolte says, “so you will have no need to expect less.”
“But...” Anne suddenly recognizes that she will be stuck with me... I think.
“You know the 3L, you should continue on it,” Hanse says to her.
She looks over at me, her face rather impassive. She appears to think about it, nods just a little, and looks down at her hands. Now she looks back up at Master Wolte and quietly accepts, “as you wish, Master Wolte.”
“I could let you work on the 2X if you don't want to have to work with me,” I offer.
Her face scrunches for a moment like she is confused, “No, not that at all. I just like working with Fatima... er... Lieutenant Al-Zafirah.”
Fatima smiles at this intimation.
“What about your other 'Mech?” Ensign Marks wonders aloud.
“I thought we might give another aspiring pilot a chance to learn it.”
Sonya and Anne both look up at me... the former with an eager fire in her eyes and the latter with what seems apprehension.
As if to leave no wisp of doubt, Sonya loudly and boldly says, “Pick ME!”

Edited by cmopatrick, 28 January 2013 - 07:44 PM.

[cmopatrick]

It occurs to me that maybe these six people are depending on me. While I’m really not comfortable with the idea, something I kinda remember granda saying to da somewhere way back floats unbidden to my mind: “responsibility may not be chosen, but it needs to be met anyway.” Ok, maybe those weren't the exact words... I kinda get the impression I was still little... maybe seven or eight. That was about the time we lost mum... wasn't it?
No, can't let my mind wander. They are all looking at me... I think they expect me to think of something brilliant to do next. Strange how little bits of wisdom from the shop come back at times like this... right now I can hear da saying I should always know what is in my toolbox before I leave on a trip. While I know he meant that I make sure I hadn't left something important on the workbench (or elsewhere), it seems like maybe I ought to know what everyone can do.

“I guess we are all going to have to double duty for a while,” I start, “at least until we are in a better place. I'm still really learning to pilot, but I can also help with repairs... I’m at least a passable crew-chief and mechanic. How about the rest of you?”
“I am a pilot.” Fatima says plainly.
“Nothing else?” Ensign Marks asks.
“Well, I can cook, but I no longer have halal meats to work with and will not cook this,” she gestures at the well roasted and significantly consumed side of beef.
I am about to ask what she means, then I notice that she actually has just bread and vegetables on her platter.
Just above a whisper, Anne says, “she makes great breads.”
Fatima glances her way, but I can't read her expression and she says nothing more.
I decide to let it be for now. “Ensign Marks? How about you?”
“Anything to do with navigation, maps, and such. Well, and I can cook some... not an expert, but I don't have too much trouble. Better if I can have a rack of spices and good cuts of beef or fresh fish.”
A thought comes to mind, “Are you good with planetside maps, too? I mean not just...”
Before I finish, his nodding becomes, “Oh yeah! I've always loved maps. Ever since I was a Junior Explorer, I was always the one with a compass and map getting us wherever.”
“So if we need someone to look for a good place for us to hide while we recover and figure out what to do...”
Again, he interrupts, this time with a brightened look like he was welcoming Santa Bear himself, “OH YEAH! Lemme at 'em!” He seems done, then gets a look of horror and adds, “er... Sir... Lieutenant... um... Commander...?” I can tell he is struggling with the new realities, but I guess he thinks I’m already some hard-nosed type, “begging your pardon for the outburst, and no disrespect intended, sir.”
What would the Colonel have done? I know so little about leadership, maybe for now I should just be myself. “It's Ok by me for now... um, no disrespect... um... taken here. Look, we're all still getting the hang of this and I’m much more concerned that we survive this together than that we all get the rank stuff right right now. And we are going to need the best map search, I don't think we can stay here long and going the wrong way could be even worse.”
Fatima and Hanse exchange a knowing smile while nodding, then look back my way.

“Do you think they will come back?” Lisa's look may be influenced by the medication she has taken, but it sure seems like thinly veiled terror in her eyes.
“They said they would.”
Fatima nods.
“What do you mean?” Hanse asks.
“There was a broadcast just before I found you that said something to the effect of they had to take care of something else in system but would be back soon to hunt...” I think about how their words might effect Lisa or others here and adjust them just a little, “for us. They did sound like they would also be chasing another unit... the something Bears... I'll go back to the recordings if it matters.”
Hanse is very interested. “Great Bear Mercs? Or maybe Big Bear Mercs or Shadow Bear Mercs? I don't remember the exact...” He stops as he sees both Fatima and I nodding. “If the Colonel was right, we might have allies if they can get past the fact that we whipped their butts. Especially if any of the actual Bears are still alive.”
While his wording towards the end is puzzling and even a little worrisome, the idea of greater numbers sure appeals to me.
“'Actual Bears'?” Anne's question is curious and not at all confrontational.
Master Wolte looks at her with great gentleness and answers, “Something from the past. I knew four of the original Wolf's Dragoons who were... Bears... like me.” I think he sees a question coming and preempts it, “we were part of a larger family unit... perhaps 'tribal' describes it better than 'family'... it is rather complicated and I really can't explain it to you very well right now.”
Anne nods and seems to accept this. In my mind, I imagine something like a fraternal organization... maybe like the one granda belonged to: the Order of the Great Otter. The Great Otter is a constellation you can see from anywhere in the northern hemisphere back home... her nose is always where you can orient on for north because it never moves throughout the night.

Master Wolte resumes speaking, “I am both a Master Crewchief and a teacher of sorts... maybe 'trainer' is a better word. I have been these for more years than most if not all of you have been alive. Alas, that means I am little good outside of a tech environment or mentorship.”
“Can you train me to know more about this leader stuff?”
My question must please him, because his smile is as large as it is likely genuine, “I would be most honored, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks, I need it.”
It is silent, perhaps not really awkward, but I realize we are looking around at each other.
“I'm a mechanic,” Lisa says rather softly. “I used to help my pops on his trucks. I got trained in an office on accounting stuff, but I hated it. Was hopin' I would get to be a crew chief on a 'Mech, but at least I got to help on them and worked a lot on the rolling stock.” I am about to offer a comment when she rather sheepishly says, “oh, and I can't cook to save my life. I know I should be able to, but I have trouble boiling water without trying to burn the kitchen down.” At this last admission she looks dejectedly at her hands.
“I suspect we will need all the help we can get keeping things working... and maybe helping me figure out the books when we have some.”
She smiles, though I think I see at least as much sedation as satisfaction in her eyes.
Sonya speaks up, “Well, I was quartermaster... hope I’m a pilot in training now... hint, hint.” She grins at this last part. “Anyway, I know parts and inventory... and how to rewire harnesses to fit equipment into places it wasn't intended to go.”
“She is a good electrician, too,” Anne offers and I know she's right; more than once Sonya has helped me out on the 2x.
“And I'm a crack shot with a ballistic rifle or pistol,” Sonya continues. “Grew up on a farm shooting whymers and somal that harassed our stock, but I also hunted with my dad and uncles.”
“That's good to know, I bet we will want for meat before too long.”
Fatima wrinkles her nose at the thought, but everyone else nods.
Lisa asks, “how about you, Anne?”
“I am a crewchief. I was a pastor's wife until our city was hit by a Red Lancer raid. They...” she looks thoughtful, “... well, that was a long time ago. Like you,” she looks at Lisa as she says this, “I grew up in a mechanic's family and learned to be around tools and heavy equipment when I was just a lass. When I lost my family I didn't need to be a mom or run ladies ministries or lead worship anymore... and... well...”
As her voice dies away, I wish I knew what to say. Unexpectedly, Fatima gets up, walks to her and gives a consoling hug. I think I hear Anne sob.
Fatima resumes her seat and Anne appears to be back to normal... though I now wonder just how normal things really are for her. Seems strange, I have lived in fairly close quarters with her for two years and had no idea she had such a tragic background.
She clears her throat, “so I am a Raven mechanic now. I serve where I am and trust that it's where I need to be.”

Edited by cmopatrick, 31 January 2013 - 08:12 PM.

[cmopatrick]

It is hard to know what to do... none of us expected to be out of our bunks tonight... well, actually I guess Fatima and I did, but not exactly like this.
Sonya found the ship's locker with personal ballistic weapons at least partially intact and has issued everyone a rifle or pistol with ammunition. While they wouldn't do much against 'Mechs, they should help against animals or more typical bandits. Some of us are more comfortable with the weapons than others; not knowing what else to do, I try to be an example by cleaning and making sure my sidearm is loaded and ready. I also make sure that I have enough clips to take care of an extended gunfight. Almost everyone else... except Anne... does the same as well as they can.
I finally think of something to say, “look, I still have some waking meds in me, why don't the rest of you get some sleep and I'll take first watch. Anyone want to relieve me when I need it?”
Sonya and Ensign Marks both raise their hands.
“Thanks,” I say.
Continuing, I offer, “Look, tomorrow we will need to get to as much business as we can with our several injuries. We can try to get away from here, taking what we can carry... providing that we can locate a good place to go. For now, get comfortable and sleep, Ok?”
They nod and each moves as well as possible to where a good bit of bedding has been moved into a sheltered area of what was our 'Mech bay this morning.

….........

Master Wolte and I are alone for a few minutes. I am pacing around our little area, trying to keep a lookout while the others sleep and walking along beside me, Hanse has chosen this time to speak with me one on one.
“Right now, there are two things you should focus your limited 'free' time on: drilling in your 'Mech with the BTCT and reading this,” He says while handing me an old leather-bound book before continuing, “reading the book Colonel Greer gave you, Art of War, should wait until you are done with this.”
“You mean I'm going to have free time?” I roll my eyes while trying to chuckle; the latter is forced and doesn't sound like I find much humor in it.
“You have to make free time. Don't think that leading means you do everything yourself... learning when and to whom to delegate responsibility is the most important thing you can do to help you free time to learn about leading us on and off the battlefield.”
I'm not sure I follow, “Come again?”
“You remember the story I told you when you first came on-board? The kid and his ax?”
Of course I remember that one: kid joins a logging crew on trial and on day one chops twice as much as the next best... day two it is barely better, day three, middle of the pack, day four, half what the best is doing, and by the end of the day on day five, not even half what the worst has done. Every day he has worked longer and harder... but lost ground. As he sits dejected, the foreman comes up and says something like, “I'm gonna have to let you go at this rate, but I'll give you one more week to get better if you promise to take the time every day to sharpen your ax.”
I nod at lesson, “so I might be willing enough, but if I don't sharpen my ax I'm only going to drag us down... right?”
“You got it, Padraig. Make the time to get better at this and you will not only get better, but you might keep us together and alive.”
“No pressure, right?”
He laughs, “never said that. If my years with Colonel Greer taught me anything, I would have to lie to say that. But in spite of... or maybe because of... the pressure, he took time to study and learn right up to the end; I think that is an example you would be well advised to try to follow.”
I nod again.

Looking down at the book in my hand, it seems that it's well worn leather cover must be much newer than the pages themselves... they are laminated with a plastic of some kind, but their age and wear imply they must have been very old and well used before getting treated. While there is no title on the cover, inside I find one: “The Three Meter Zone” by J. D. Pendry, Command Sergeant Major, USA. Beneath the title is a sentiment, “To Chief Master Sergeant Jody Jorgensen: Congratulations on your promotion to Chief Master. Our Command Chief Master recommends this to all our staff NCO leadership and I trust his judgment. May those you lead from your new post learn from you as you grow better with this.” The signature below it is a bit hard to read, it looks like an “A”... with a stained and illegible rest of the first name, a fairly readable last name that looks like “Kercnsky” and dated “12 May 2784”.
Hanse taps the book, “This was written for those in small unit leadership roles in an ancient land military called the United States Army, but the things he talks about apply to what you are going to need to learn in a hurry. Oh, and when you are done with it, I expect to get it back in as good of a shape as you got it.”
“It says something about an NCO... what is that?”
“A Non-Commissioned Officer. The leaders at the line level... what I am would have been considered an NCO. Ground troops in the AFFS, for example, still have them in much their original role. You are a newly minted officer, but you have no training in leading small groups... which the seven of us essentially are now. This book distills lessons you would have learned in officer training or serving under other officers and with other Master and Senior techs. It is the closest I can come to giving you a crash course in becoming a leader for us. I know it helped me when I was promoted, even though I had had strong examples to follow.”
“Thank you, Hanse. I hope I can do this... I don't really...”
He smiles as he interrupts, “You'll do, Padraig. You're already off to a reasonable start. Keep working at it and you'll do nicely.”
“May I still ask questions?”
“I expect you to... though if they are serious, it might be good to ask when I can speak with your privately first.”
That makes sense. “Works for me.”
“Good. Ok, off to bed for me... don't stay up too late, we will need you fresh tomorrow, too.

I have been walking my 'rounds' for about three hours when I hear an unexpected sound... a crunch on broken glass just outside the bay.
My heart races and I clear my sidearm so quickly that I never even think about it. It came from an area a bit behind me and almost across the spot our sleepers are in, but I don't want to wake them it if is just a deer or something...
Slipping as quietly as possible around the resting bodies, I reach the door just as there are more crunching sounds towards where the 3L stands. In the radiant starlight, I see a human form move towards the crouched 'Mech.
“Halt! Don't touch that 'Mech!”
“Padraig! Stop shouting and put that gun away!” It is just Fatima... though I wonder what she has in mind.
“What are you doing out here? You had me thinking someone was sneaking up to steal your Raven.”
“It makes more sense to me to sleep in here and be ready to move if we need me to than to be caught sleeping down there.”
That makes a lot of sense, I wonder why I hadn't thought of it.
“Besides,” she continues a bit more quietly, “I can't seem to get comfortable enough to sleep on that cold deck plate.”
I understand that one, too. In fact, I had been wondering the same thing, maybe i'll sleep in the 2x when I let someone relieve me tonight.
I holster my weapon and offer, “you had a great idea. Didn't mean to holler, but I... well... get some sleep, Ma'am.”
“I will, Sir.” A graceful feline climb with soft words to her 'Mech, and she is gone into the dark womb of her cockpit.
Above me, the Banner blazes mightily... none of the constellations are familiar, but I think we are much closer to one of the spiral arms and this sky filled with brilliant stars seems nearly as bright as our moons back home. Behind me, someone snores loudly and I remember my rounds.

Edited by cmopatrick, 02 February 2013 - 08:04 AM.

[cmopatrick]

Sonya startles me, “Lieutenant? It'll be daylight in four hours. You were supposed to get one of us to relieve you.”
“Well, all of you need your sleep.”
Even in the dim shadows of the bay, I can see her roll her eyes. “And you don't, right?” I see her shake her head, “look, I’m not trying to be disrespectful of your rank and all, but you need some sleep or you'll get us killed making poor decisions when you are weary... or taking too long to make good decisions because you are sleepy. I'm rested and you aren't. Go take a nap at least.”
While she is gesturing towards where the others sleep, I say, “Ok, I'll get some sleep, but I'll get it in the 2x. Fatima... um... Lieutenant Al-Zafirah is in her 'Mech also.”
“Do you think I could learn one of them? The 'Mechs?” she rather breathlessly asks.
“Well, I hope so... gonna give you the chance if we can get the Black Knight working to where Lt. Al-Zafirah will make the trade.”
“Thank you, THANK YOU!” She quickly throws her arms around my neck in a hug worthy of a small bear, then backs off equally swiftly with an embarrassed look. “Sorry, couldn't help myself, Padraig. Sir. Lieutenant.” She giggles and I have to admit to myself that once again I am clueless about women.

In the quiet cockpit, I wonder about the day now past. I woke this morning with uncertainty and now need to sleep in spite of every significant mooring I had depended upon having been ripped away. I seem to have no sense of what I am in the middle of... just the urgent knowledge that if I give in, the flood I paddle against will instead capsize my life and pull me under to drown. Worse still, now there are many people who are depending on me... that thought almost brings fear past my defenses... almost.
People I was learning to respect, appreciate, maybe even care for... people like Ray or Colonel Greer, or even Marty, they are gone. Erased from life, but not my memory.
The least expected thing happens... a tear escapes my left eye. While my attention is diverted, another slips out of my right. Suddenly, I have a full fledged jail break, salty streaks running down my face to where my wispy almost-beard pretends to dominate. But the onslaught continues, ignorant of my masculinity or the facial hair that should have defended me. Each lost person I have known since I joined the Green Zone Raiders is brought to mind, and I am forced to admit that I am weeping for them. I'm very glad I can at least hide this embarrassment in here... nothing like letting the others know how emotionally weak I am. What would Master Wolte think if he could see me right now?
Somehow, my mind washes itself by letting these eye rivers overflow... and sleep sweeps the last puddles away with the closing of my eyes.

…..

“Come with me,” Master Wolte says quietly as we finish a morning meal not that removed from last night's... more meat from the damaged cooler.
I follow him into what were once parts of the ship that I had never entered before. He turns a corner and enters an ash-filled room not that different from many others in here, but his seriousness tells me this is important.
“You have inherited the Colonel's command by virtue of a vote... what was his is yours now.”
“Not much left, is there?” I start, but he holds up a hand.
Pulling what must be burnt cloth away, he exposes a small safe set into the wall near the end of what I guess was a fold-down bed. Part of me feels like I don't belong here, but a fascination holds me as the Chief spins a small dial different directions until...
Click! The sound is like a bell in the silence.
Turning a small handle, it sounds like bolts are drawn, ending with a sharp Chnk!
He swings the little door open and I can see inside there are papers, a small box, an odd looking laser pistol, and an old fashioned envelope.
“These are yours.” Hanse says while lifting most of them out.
I am still rather surprised.
“Hold out your hands, please, sir.”
I comply, more out of respect for him than anything else. He hands me everything but the laser, and in all honesty, that is the one thing that interests me most. The box, however, is incredibly heavy for it's size, and I nearly drop it.
“What the...?”
“You will need that to get us supplies and maybe information.”
I'm at the very least puzzled and open the lid; nestled inside are what look like twenty and fifty gram gold bars. No wonder it is so heavy, there must be a half kilo in here. There is a smallish box tucked into one corner as well, but it only contains data chips.
“Be careful with those,” Hanse gestures. When I nod, I guess he correctly figures I’m thinking about the bullion and follows on, “the chips are more valuable than the metal. There are four c-bill accounts represented there, two marked “a” and “b” especially are important... used together they access a c-bill account with enough reserves to ship two lances of 'Mechs and the full crew to the nearest hiring hall. If we ever get to a safe haven to access them, such a reserve may be able to get us off this rock and back to a hiring hall. The main GZR accounts won't be available to use until we are safely away from here and can make a claim against them at a hiring hall or the MRB.”
Again, I’m confused, “how do you know all this?”
“I had an identical box in a duplicate safe hidden in my quarters. We were at opposite ends of the ship, a catastrophe at one end wasn't going to strip us of the means to recover.”
“You knew this was going to happen?”
He shakes his head, “No, sir. We planned ahead years ago. If you have a plan to take care of most surprises, you can usually recover from the things you overlooked.”
“Oh.” That makes a lot of sense. From the look on his face, I think I need to learn from what he just said. I wonder, “So did you get your box already?”
“You know where our quarters were.”
He's right. There is a huge hole open to the sky that was once the aft end of the ship.
“So, how do I get supplies?”
“Find a town and buy some.”

…..

Ensign Lloyd Marks sits down across from me at a makeshift table. Between us, we now have a fair sized display surface that he and Sonya have pulled from the least damaged section of Tornado's bridge. It isn't prefect, but with power from a generator and three solars that Sonya and Lisa put up, we are are now able to look at a regional satellite map without squinting at our pads. The map finishes loading.
“Here,” he points. The whole thing is still so zoomed out that I'm not even sure where we are... Lloyd's speed at reading the map defies my comprehension.
“Here what?”
“Oh, um, sorry, sir. Just a moment.”
He zooms in centered on an area near where he pointed. It looks kind of familiar, maybe near us?
“This is where we are,” he points to the new center.
There are no indicators or anything on the map, maybe he saw the lay of the land from the bridge while we were landing. Maybe with Naomi's help I could have figured this out, but Ensign Marks obviously is really good.
“These three places are closest.”
He seems to be pointing to empty spaces... that can't be right. I use my pad to zoom further in on each blank, only to realize that they all have varying sized spider-webs of what must be roads. Looking back at the larger display, I recognize that if I knew what to look for, I too could probably have spotted them. Based on the grid, they are all at least forty kilometers out, and the one he originally pointed to is actually the farthest. I remember Ray telling me that I needed to learn how to read maps, maybe I've found the perfect teacher.
“And this is the one I would suggest trying.” He is again pointing at that more distant one.
“Why not one of these?” I gesture at the other two.
With a patience I hope I can have some day, he explains, “This one would be perfect if there weren't this ridge of hills and these two rivers. The closest road,” here his hand is tracing a line I would have missed, “runs so far out of the way that it would actually take at least twice as long as either of the other two.”
“Well, the 'Mechs can go overland,” I counter, then almost immediately wonder out loud, “well... if there aren't too many trees or...”
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“How would you use the 'Mechs to carry supplies or purchase more transportation?”
Wow. Now that is thinking ahead. “Excellent point. Are you sure you wouldn't rather lead?”
He smiles, “No, I kinda like having input but not having the pressure to actually decide, delegate, or do.”
“Fair enough, I guess.” My attention returns to the map, “Why not here, then?”
“Two reasons. First, while it certainly is big enough, it may actually be too big.”
“Would you please explain that to me?”
“Sure. This area here may represent either a small VTOL airfield or dropship landing zone. These shapes may represent a base of some sort.”
“So maybe we can get out of here!”
“Are you sure enough you're willing to bet our lives?”
The question has me stumped. “Why?”
“Where would a dropship land that would be near supplies while also close enough to our wreckage here to easily walk 'Mechs? If they are already there or show up while we have people in town, will our people have time to escape and also warn whomever stays behind?”
Wow. “Good point.”
“The other is more apparent when we zoom back to where we originally were.” As he says this, the map zooms back out.
I have no clue. I guess I could try to bluff, but right now I rather learn all I can. “I don't see it yet... please show me.”
He smiles and I have to wonder if he can guess the choice I had. “Yes, sir,” his tone is positive and professional, “this long line, this is the main road to Gergash, the town we dropped into when we arrived. Their spaceport is the logical way off-world for us... if we can get a dropship in. But it is also the most likely place to look for us... racing to get away. Wouldn't it fit that they might even be waiting there right now, wanting us to have our hopes up before they deal the coup de grace?”
“The what?”
He chuckles, “it's an old expression roughly meaning the killing or final blow.”
“Ah.” What he says makes sense. “So, that one being almost the wrong direction is a good thing?”
“Well, several things are going for it.”
I'm honest, “I have no real idea, why do you think so?”
He looks at me thoughtfully. “Do you want me to just tell you, sir, or do you have time to try to learn the ways to see this stuff?”
I want to learn, but deep down I have a growing sense of urgency that we must not stay here too long. “I need the help, but I sense we are short on time.”
“Ok, the town is far enough away from other places that it will likely have a fair amount of self-sufficiency, but there are no flat areas immediately nearby, so a dropship would have to be out a ways. They will likely have vehicle dealers to support a rural population, meaning pickups to mid sized lorries that we could adapt for four of us to drive. Loaded with supplies and whatever salvage we need most, we can make for whatever shelter I can find... if you still want me to look.”
It isn't a question in my mind, “Yes, please look. You are the guru on this, I want your help.”
He smiles and nods, “we do the best we can with what we've got.”
My da used to say that... I wonder how he is today...

Edited by cmopatrick, 08 February 2013 - 04:48 AM.

[SneakySniper]

Please don't stop writing this is an absolutely great piece of work that I have thoroughly enjoyed reading. I simply can't wait to see how this story unfolds.

[cmopatrick]

Fatima is looking through the Black Knight cockpit while Hanse and I stand near it's shoulder on a makeshift gantry. Compared to the Ravens, it is a monster. I wonder what it would be like to run her.
My hand is throbbing again, the climb up the ladder wanted for more health it has, and before halfway, I was moving up painfully slowly. I wonder if I've further hurt any of the healing bones or tissue. I know we don't have an unlimited supply of the stuff that numbs everything, but I kinda wish for just a little more right now.
Unexpectedly, Lt. Al-Zafira steps out of the 'Mech with a disappointed look. Master Wolte and I exchange an apprehensive glance as she strides over.
“This isn't going to work for me.” She is blunt and matter-of-fact about it.
“What? Why?”
“I do not belong in it. I have a sense of dread and can not do it. I need to stay in my 3L.”
“But I thought we agreed...”
“If I thought it was satisfactory. I do not.”
Master Wolte's expression is even more surprised than mine, and he opens his mouth to speak...
Fatima, however, cuts him off before he can start, “You have done as requested, Master Wolte... the 'Mech is certainly about ready... but I would die in this 'Mech. You must accept that I will not pilot it; I will leave if I have to... either way, I will remain pilot of the 3L.”
I think for a moment about offering her a greater share, but I don't get any sense that she is trying to bargain. She has decided and is done with the possibility.
“No,” I say quietly, “I need you with us more than I need to try to prove that I can force you to pilot something you dread. I rather risk dieing in it than lose your presence with us.”
Both of them look at me and she offers a slight bow.
“Thank you, Commander,” she says.
“Um...”
“No, you have earned the right to the rank. I honor you with it as Ensign Marks has.
She passes me and heads down the ladder we have used to get up here. I sure wish we could have repaired the stairs, but the priority is the BK.
Master Wolte looks at me and agrees, “Yes, Commander is more fitting. Maybe you should be in this 'Mech after all.”
I look at her, still latched in the bay jaws that have miraculously survived. I'm not sure how we are going to get it out, but one problem at a time.
“Lloyd, uh... Ensign Marks has identified where he thinks we would be best off going to get supplies and vehicles.”
Master Wolte nods in agreement, “sounds good, but you need to call a meeting. Everyone will be involved, so everyone should know what is up.”
“Ok... but I think we need to get on it, I have a bad feeling about just sitting around.”

…..

We are all gathered about the map desk, Ensign Marks is finishing his explanation of why he thinks we should go to Terrino, the small town he had pointed out to me earlier.
“... so the approaches would be easier to find cover along. As you can all see...”
I admit I can't, but am not going to interrupt.
“... this also give us a pretty good chance to watch out for problems if we just station a lookout here,” he points at a gap in the rolling hills, “where it is the closest point the open scrubland with it's broad flat surfaces.”
I think he sees that we are not quite following.
“While a hot drop would work, an incoming unit would probably want the flats to land in.”
Now we are nodding again and he gives us a grin for our efforts.
“So, who should go?”
“We have one small equipment hauler that survived, we might get four of us in there... if we are very friendly.”
“If I may?” Master Wolte has something to say.
“Please,” I offer back.
“I would suggest Padraig and Lisa go for the first run.”
I am about to object, but bite my tongue out of respect... or maybe it is out of force of habit from a couple of years under his leadership as a crew-chief. He is watching me, I think he is waiting to see if I interrupt to say anything. Lisa seems puzzled, but seems willing to hear him out.
“The thought is that they are about the right ages to be brother and sister. Her experience with finance and his authority to make decisions should be a perfect match for this. They can slip into town and make a decent case that with their injuries they need the supplies. Maybe they can even say the pirates got them. Besides, I think we need to keep the 'Mechs close at hand right now and if you,” he is speaking directly to Sonya right now, “mean to get qualified on the 2x, we need you to be in it every minute of the day getting good enough to at least walk it with the rest of us.”
“Do we have extra copies of the BTCT?” Fatima's question is one I should have already asked.
“Yes,” Master Wolte answers. He looks over at me and asks, “do you want your ai moved over, or would you rather start from scratch.”
I don't have to think about that one at all, “Please move her over.”
“No problem.” He looks back at Lt. Al-Zafirah, “I will get her a copy of her own as soon as we are done here, Ma'am.”
Anne is again paying attention more than I expect, “All in favor of the plan say aye.”
They all vote for it and I have to agree. My vote does come after everyone else has spoken, but it makes it unanimous.
“How soon will we be ready to cut the BK out?” I ask.
“Well, with Sonya working her sims and Lisa out with you, I think Anne and I will probably need until you are back to get everything ready. Besides, we will want to get as much as possible clear of the wreckage in case that bay or even the Black Knight itself are holding up more than we can tell.”
I look at Anne and try to imagine her hobbling around with Hanse and have to agree that the process will slow down with just the two of them.
“Well, should we wait?”
“No. If you can be back before it gets too late this afternoon with a second vehicle, then we can run the rest of us up before things close tonight and maybe be ready to roll by morning.”
That makes sense. “Ok.”

…..

“Lieutenant, may we speak privately?” I ask Fatima.
Her glance appraises me, then nods and she follows me to the foot of her Raven.
“How may I assist you, Commander?”
I guess that rank is going to stick, at least for now... I might as well get used to it.
“I would like you to find a sheltered place to keep an eye on things here; one where you can be powered up and able to run to assist if needed.”
“That won't be a problem, I was already thinking the same thing.”
I smile, “yeah, most of you seem about ten steps ahead of me. Hope I don't miss something because I haven't gotten far enough along.”
“You are doing fine, Sir. Remember, each of us has our own small area to think about, you have all of them now and with less than a day to build the experience needed to be excellent at it. You will be a good leader if you continue as you have started.”
“Thank you, Fatima.”
“And thank you for not arguing with me about the BK. A woman has got to know her limitations, that large a 'Mech is one of mine.”
“Funny, da always said that as a 'man has got to know his limitations'... I guess they are the same.”
“Yes, whatever applies to you is appropriate.”
I am about to turn when a thought strikes me, “May I ask you a question?”
“Yes, sir... I may not answer, but you may ask.”
“If I wanted to get you the kind of food you need, what would I ask for?”
She laughs; it is a beautiful sound, full of musical emotion and honest joy. “Thank you very much for asking, Padraig. I would still need to procure it for myself, but if you see someone selling 'halal' meats, perhaps you can make note of where they are and I can make a personal visit.”
“Are there any supplies I can get that fit your needs?”
“Most fruit and vegetables will work, and fish is acceptable also. In an emergency, the Law of Necessity allows that I may eat other things, but short of starving I rather do without than needlessly risk violation.”
“I guess I don't understand completely, but I'll try to find out if there are options. Any particular kind of fish?”
She laughs again, “Fresh is best. If it smells of ammonia, skip it altogether.”
“Fair enough. Thanks again for keeping an eye on them while I’m gone.”
“Safe journey and swift return, Padraig.”
“Thank you, Fatima.”

Edited by cmopatrick, 09 February 2013 - 07:52 PM.

[cmopatrick]

Lisa is trying to have an animated conversation while she drives in excess of a 120kph, something this carry-all seems ill suited for. During this, she insists on taking her eyes off the road for long stretches, especially when she wants to make a point. Within the first five minutes, I am so distracted by her driving that I have no idea what she is talking about and honestly don't care... I just want her not to kill us. Anyway, if that isn't bad enough, at every place we slow below 80, she's trying to do stuff to her face using the rear-view mirror... I think that is makeup or something. We have several close calls with oncoming traffic and almost hit an old cow standing on the road's shoulder.
Needless to say, by the time we reach Terrino, I am something close to a nervous wreck. Maybe I should go get supplies or something. Heck, I’m dripping sweat and it's only 29c out.
After passing an increasing number of ranches, we go by what looks like a truck and tractor lot, then a bank, and finally are into a smallish downtown. The roads are clean, but dust is everywhere.
“Tell me where you want me to go,” she says cheerily.
I resist the urge to say what I’m thinking, but I also would rather walk than remain in any vehicle while she is the driver. “Why don't you go back to the truck lot and look around while I check out this part of town, find out what we have for c-bills, maybe convert the gold.”
“Shouldn't we stick together?”
“I'll meet you back at the truck lot, we can cover more ground separately.”
“Well, I guess you are the boss. Ok. Meet you there when?”
“Give me an hour. Beep the comm-link if you have a problem or need me to come sooner... and I'll do the same.
She nods as we roll to a stop at a quiet intersection.
As I step onto the pavement, I have to resist the urge to kiss the ground... it is that good to be on solid land again.

…..

I'm sitting in an old but acceptable faux-wood chair in the almost air-conditioned sales office at Terrino Farm & Heavy-haul. The pushy male salesman has left frustrated after trying to convince me that an abused 3005 half and half was worth at least the asking price of 327,999 c-bills. Lisa has already departed for the Tornado wreck in a 3027 Land Train we picked up across town; it is completely loaded and obviously martially modified by the previous owner for dealing with less than cooperative folks along the road... and that was barely 500,000.
I have asked for the manager, but think it likely they will simply ask me to leave. In the mean time, I let my gaze wander about the showroom. Nothing here is new, it is more like degrees of old. Ok, we are in the boon thules out this close to the Periphery, but still, forty-five year old junk asking a prince's ransom?
A young woman approaches, probably about my age. She is very pretty, but what I really notice is how she walks with absolute confidence... she could be a younger and less restrained version of Fatima. I bet she will be the one to ask me to leave... if she is even coming my way.
“You are Padraig, yes?” She asks, though I have no doubt she already knows for certain.
“Yes, Ma'am.”
“Ah, wonderful. I am Fairuz Abboud. I understand you are fairly well aware of the condition of some of our equipment and may have taken offense at a misunderstanding on our salesman's part. Please allow me to apologize for that unfortunate misunderstanding. My father would not have wanted so knowledgeable a customer to be put through such a trial. Is there anything I personally can do for you?”
She is good. If I had never seen this kind of response, I would probably be in a lot of trouble about now. Of course, I never actually had to deal with the folks doing the selling, and she is very attractive, something the folks da dealt with never were.
“Um, thank you, Ma'am.” Without thinking, I start to offer her my right hand to shake. The bones take this opportunity to offer a piercing pain within their wrappings and I am a moment too late to stop the yelp that escapes my lips.
She looks from my hand to my face. “You are the one who was at my uncle's establishment with an injured woman a little while ago, are you not? Bought the '27 Train, right?”
Smaller towns... I forgot how well folks might know one another.
“Yes, Ma'am.” I don't want to say too much, no telling how many of them might be on the payroll of the Waco Rangers.
“You two aren't from around here,” it isn't a question, “were you injured in the pirate convoy raid?”
I look down at my hand. What can or should I say?
Her voice drops to barely above a whisper, “you must be with the mercenaries they brought in. I had heard that you guys were pretty good.
I smile and let her fill in the blanks.
“I guess in the end you got overwhelmed anyway.”
Wow, news travels fast. I guess someone must have seen the attack on Tornado. As i think about it, I’m just surprised that we didn't have anyone come out trying to salvage her.
Her voice falls further, now it is a whisper, “I know where two of your crew are hiding.”
The excitement on my face must be obvious, she motions that I say nothing.
“They are at an abandoned mine north of where they got... er... I think the word is 'dropped'... or something like that.”
“Why would you...?”
She interrupts, “I lost three drivers in that massacre.”
Wait... that can't be right...
“Never heard of pirates destroying everything without mercy. In the past they wanted the fuel and supplies... sure, they would kidnap the drivers to finish transporting it to their ships, but eventually they would always let them go. It must have been hellish having your unit cut up and then having to know that in their fury they killed the rest of the people you were there to protect.”

She thinks WE are the pirates.
“Can we talk somewhere private? I could buy you lunch.”
“Strange pickup line, Sir. Why should I go anywhere with you?”
I don't know why, but I remember that man on fire and suddenly feel that I should be honest with her and let things shake out as they may.
“It was a mercenary unit that did it.” I say quietly. “There is actually a third unit that was manipulating the whole thing... the Waco Rangers. They that didn't care about anything but revenge on the first two. The ones you think were pirates were sold a bid that said it was a Valkyrate pirate convoy they were attacking... and it was to be completely destroyed. They even tried to be careful not to damage civilian vehicles from outside the convoy. There was no malice involved.”
She is silent and clearly stunned. Finally, she manages, “They?”
“You may do to me as you wish, but I was one of the 'Mech pilots you think are murderers. Our ship and most of our people were destroyed by the Waco Rangers yesterday, so I can not resist you. Please don't tell anyone else about the other unit's survivors, but do tell those pilots to be prepared to escape, that the Rangers are coming back to kill the rest of both our units soon.”
She is quiet, processing my confession. I can hear some droning music in the background and the regular sounds of office denizens going about their daily routines.
We have been sitting here quietly for several minutes.
I think it is time to be going, maybe I can escape town and warn the others that we are the bad guys here. I start to stand again, but she reaches out a hand and takes mine. It is an unexpected gesture, and her expression is even more unexpected: concern and caring.
“Let's get something to eat. We need to talk, you and I.” She is again speaking just above a whisper, but as focused on her as I am... well, she might as well be shouting.

Edited by cmopatrick, 12 February 2013 - 06:02 AM.

[cmopatrick]

Miss Abboud has is sitting across from me at a small table in a well used diner barely large enough to be called an eating establishment: Momma Joan's or Momma Jane's... something like that. We are a short walk from the showroom, a distance covered without more than five words between us. She is about my age, probably a little older, but close enough that I don't feel guilty about the attraction I'm discovering.
The waitress arrives with a platter bearing more than such a small surface has any right to contain, but it is our order: a charakt burger (all I know is the waitress said “it tastes like beef”) with sweet potato fries and a chocolate shake for me and a pastry of some sort with a pot of steaming tea for her. That Ms. Abboud ordered simply “my usual” implies that she is very well known here.
I wait as she does what I suspect is some kind of praying over her food... I may not know her customs, but I can at least show some respect for her while she follows them.
She finally looks up, looks at my uneaten meal and smiles. “Thank you for your courtesy, Mr. O'Brian.”
“You are most welcome, Ma'am.”
She takes a mouth-filling bite of what seems a odd looking little pizza and obvious pleasure marks her chewing.
“May I ask what that is?”
She finishes her blissful bite and answers, “Sure, it is a fatayer, made to my mother's mother's mother's exacting recipe. I had to teach Joan how to do it, since I can't cook Lebanese meat balls, much less do fatayer justice.”
“What is it?”
“Bread, cheese, and a whole lot of secrets,” she answers with glee dancing in her eyes.
Her eyes. Like Fatima's, they are deep and expressive, but unlike Lieutenant Al-Zafirah, Miss Abboud's eyes seem intent on being joyful amid the tumble of loose dark hairs the wind and our brief walk have unleashed.
Her expression changes a bit and she asks, “How is your burger?”
I realize that I have been staring. “Um, sorry, it is...er...” I realize that it is untouched and take a bite.
We continue to eat, mostly in silence with just kitchen noises to keep the spell her eyes have cast from overwhelming me.
“I can help you on one condition.” She has finally chosen to break the silence, the small remaining piece of her... um... bread thing still in her hand, waving with her gestures as if to offer punctuation, “Well, two, really. You pay a fair price for what you get, and any driver I send has the right to go with your...” she thinks for a moment, “... team? Or whatever you call what you are, when you leave. They are not required to go, but you will take them if they want.”
“Seems fair to me. I can't imagine any problem with that.”
She smiles and the room lights up as if the ceiling had vanished and the room was suddenly bathed in warm sunshine.

…..

“Hey, Fairuz! Do you know who the carry-all out in your lot belongs to?”
I suspect that would be my carry-all... well, at least until we are done with the purchase it will be a “trade-in” on.
“Sure, Mac. Is there something wrong?” she answers.
“Nah, just might have some info... nothing really special, though... to talk with them about.”
She looks my way briefly, but it is long enough that he comes up with enough to come over and nod in my direction.
“You running the errands for whomever, boy?”
He might be twice my age, and half again my size, but I have to still be careful not to take insult at his rudeness. I size him up as well as possible and manage to find a bit of calm; enough, at least, to reply, “Perhaps. How may I assist you, sir?”
He lowers his voice to an almost conspiratorial level and finds a tone to match as he says, “I might have some info about survivors from what happened. Is that worth somethin'?”
I really don't know what to think... wouldn't it be worth it to find out if there are any other survivors from the other unit?
“Probably. Depending on what it is, I...” I pause, it might be better to be a bit cautious, “... can ask the people with the power to decide.”
“Can you take me to them?”
“What if I can help you?”
“I want ten thousand c-bills, cash, up-front.”
Seems a bit overpriced info, especially since we can already account for the GZR members, both living and dead.
“Well, I can ask, but I’m not sure they will be interested.”
“Oh. Well, maybe that's too much... can't blame me for trying, times are hard here. I really just need to talk with one of them Battlemech drivers... they'll know what to do.”
“And if you are talking with one?”
“Aren't you a little young?”
I shake my head and start to turn away... it isn't quite disrespectful, but I am not exactly saying I want any more of this conversation.
He looks at me strangely. “You were there, weren't you?”
He seems suddenly friendly, like he just wants to be helpful... maybe I misunderstood his intent after all; I look him in the eye and nod.
“In one of those 'Mech things with the same logo as that carry-all has on it?”
I smile just a little and answer, “Yeah, I was there.”
“Ah.” With this he turns away from me as if headed for the door. Unexpectedly, he begins to pivot back.

…..

A lot of things happen all at once, or at least so close together that it takes longer to read them than live through them.
First, I notice alarm on the face of someone across the room.
Next, someone screams and I recognize that he has a sidearm in hand.
As he continues to turn towards me, I somehow manage to plant my left foot and begin to shift laterally right towards his blind side.
His weapon has now cleared his body and is close to pointing at me while I am moving away from sitting down into a springing or lunging motion.
My mangled right hand grasps for my pistol, but only succeeds in clearing it enough that when my bones scream the weapon is suddenly loose and falling towards the floor.
I know it is cliché, but it seems that in slow motion the gun starts firing; I can see each flash, sense each BAM!, and even see each casing eject amid the smoke.
The fourth shot hits me in my left arm at the shoulder, it feels like I've been stabbed with a molten dagger and punched hard at the same time.
My right hand can not take my weight as I try to use it to keep my balance and I am falling to the floor.
The seventh shot hits my left ear and grazes my scalp behind it just as I crumple completely to the ground... as chance would have it, my left hand comes down on the pistol grip.
He is a lousy shot. I am right-handed.
Against me, he is uninjured and unimpeded. In my favor, I have enough momentum that the polished floor keeps me moving when he obviously thought it wouldn't. As I start to slide, my fingers close on the pistol and try to find the safety.
As I finish moving, a chair takes the next three rounds for me while I manage to release the safe and get my middle finger onto the trigger.
The pain in my arm is horrid, but as his face comes around the far side of the wounded chair, I have managed to find the will to raise the weapon.
BAMM! I get one shot off... and see him stagger. His weapon flies as he reaches for his wounded right shoulder. He never sees that I can't hold the gun aloft for a second shot, he is fleeing out the door.
I realize that I am covered in sticky red... blood... mine...
I see her face, Fairuz is full of concern for me... and I sense that... she is barking orders...

Edited by cmopatrick, 14 February 2013 - 05:12 AM.

[cmopatrick]

“He is coming around.”
I do not recognize the woman's voice, but I do know that someone is moving my left arm and I’m feeling a LOT of paint from the experience, “Ow! Stop it!”
“Stop being such a baby.” Now her voice is sorta familiar.
My eyes seem welded shut, but someone is torturing me with red hot pokers and I feel very uninclined to cooperate. “NO! STOP, IT HURTS!”
“O'Brian, what were you told about managing your anger?” A man speaks to me as if I am expected to listen and... well... I do seem to recognize him as important enough to at least try to comply. Still, I'm not really sure about who he is and I'll be shot if I know where I know him from.
Shot.
Oh... now I remember. Well, that explains the pain. I guess at least I’m not dead.
There are two women and one...no, two men. My eyelids are still sewn together, or maybe there is something else making me feel odd and leaving my eyes unwilling to face the harsh light.
The new male voice says, “Won't the rest of your people come for him?”
The familiar woman's voice is next, “yes, I called for assistance and we have at least one 'Mech on the way.”
“I'm not sure we can hold off that bunch if it gets much bigger.” That is the somewhat fearful sounding second man.
“No one under my hospitality will be hurt while I breathe. I will swear off harming anyone and use Mr. O'Brian's gun if need be.” The unfamiliar woman seems to know me.
“Do you have any idea how to use a gun, Fairuz?”
“No. But if I am close enough, I’m sure it will work fine.” Now I remember, that unrecognized voice belongs to Ms. Abboud.
The first man speaks again, “No, we will have a skilled 'Mech pilot on scene in...” there is a pregnant pause, then, “... about eight minutes. Between Ms. Monroe and myself, we can mount a spirited defense for that long. Besides, it might be better for you not to seem to be helping us; defense of your honor is different from becoming a collaborator.”
“I am an Abboud! Anyone who enters the hospitality of my family's properties is under my protection, and that lot all know it,” She sounds very offended. I suddenly have a mental picture of those deep brown eyes flaming with anger.
“I understand, Miss, but...”
Another voice interrupts as footsteps run up, “I found it, Ma'am.”
Fairuz answers, “good, let me see...” I imagine I hear pad clicks, “... ok, draw about 50ccs, please.”
I feel a needle pr-ick* my right arm.
“Will that be enough?”
“We'll know soon enough.”
I seem to... um... I’m not really... there are voices... distant... spinning inward... tired...

…..

Chunk! Crunch!
I'm barely present, but know that must have been a heck of a pothole or we are flying.
“Sorry back there.”
Well, now I can guess that Lisa is speeding me somewhere. The road is choppy and painful, but while I might have feared her driving this morning, right now she seems like the right person to be doing it.
Pain seems everywhere. My head. My left arm. My right hand. The places without intense agony just seem tired... or maybe that is just me.
“Lay still, Lieutenant.”
I know him, I just don't know where from. Seems like there is a lot of that going around... familiar strangers.
I feel a mosquito bite my right arm. Maybe I should... need more rest... um...

…..

“That's the best I can do.” That sounds like Sonya. “If we had enough medical supplies, maybe I could do better, but he really needs...”
My eyes open just a bit, even though it requires an effort that I am loathe to expend.
Yup, Sonya. She announces, “He's awake.”
Master Wolte comes into view. “How are you doing, Commander?”
“I hurt.”
“I bet. We've patched you up as well as we can for now. I would recommend that we move tonight; even if the Rangers are not coming soon, that mob in town can surely follow Lieutenant Al-Zafirah's tracks back and I would suggest that things are bad enough that we are better served not having to resort to using serious firepower against civilians.”
My mind seems to be clearing. We went to Terrino for something... oh, yeah, “Did we get enough vehicles?”
“Well, I would have preferred more. We won't try to get that carry-all back, but we did purchase a heavy haul with an eighteen meter forty ton lowboy, a marginally...”
I interrupt, “that the Land Train?”
He smiles, “Yes, sir. Guess you were there for that one. Anyway, we also got a converted bus that is marginally armored, and an all terrain duce and a half.”
“What?”
“A truck with tires in front and a three meter heavy-duty rubber track in back... looks something like a tank back there, but it has great traction when things are nasty. Lieutenant Al-Zafirah has taken temporary command and ordered that we load everything we can... but we are going to need you to walk a 'Mech.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“No, we have your shoulder stabilized and the rest of you bandaged up where you need it. I'm afraid you have lost most of your left ear and I hope the neurohelm contacts won't add too much pain to that gash in your scalp, but we can numb the shoulder and hand enough that you can use them for a while.”
“Where are we going?”
“A place that Miss Abboud suggested, a large deuterium-ice mine well north of here. Ensign Marks thinks it should be doable under cover of darkness, though the rain could be a problem.”
“I don't hear any rain.”
“Forecast to start any time now. Ms. Abboud showed me a current download from a weather sat, and it wasn't pretty.”
“It will cover our tracks, though.” Fatima has joined the conversation.
Sonya looks at me and asks, “are you ready to try sitting up?”
“I guess I better be.” I'm not, but I do it anyway. I struggle to be strong, but at least a few groans escape.
Sonya has a rather large syringe in hand and asks, “Where does it hurt most?”

(ooc: * = the political correctness scan doesn't like the word "p r i c k" (as in describing what a needle does) so i have added a "-" to the word as used above to make pr-ick)

(late edit due catching another spelling thing where auto correct seems to have bitten me... that or I can't type).

Edited by cmopatrick, 15 February 2013 - 08:49 PM.

[cmopatrick]

We are all antsy; the rains have started and we are crowded into the bus with more supplies and salvaged gear than is probably smart. Then again, we each have a case of “what we leave is what we will need” and would rather barely have room than be the one to get us killed for the lack.
I am seated on the dashboard looking at my team... Ok, maybe “leaning against” it is more accurate. Lloyd seems to have caught a cold and is sniffling, but everyone else is silent.
“Well, it feels really funny to be headed out like this, but I think we have what we can carry for now. I guess we could just blow up what is left when we leave so no one else can steal it.”
“No,” Lisa says. “If those towns folk come out here, they will get something and feel like they got even... or at least even enough. Better to let them cool off that way than leave them be ready to help the Rangers.”
I hadn't thought of it that way.
Master Wolte offers, “well, the problem is we might be tempted to return for what is left and give our hiding place away when we return to the mine.”
Lieutenant Al-Zafirah has a very concerned look.
“Lieutenant?” I ask.
“I think that if we know the danger and one of us would risk everyone else anyway for no real gain, then we have bigger problems than being discovered. While I do not know that she has the right reason, Ms. Monroe still has the better way. Besides, weapons flashes might be visible though clouds and assist our enemy if they are in orbit.”
“Well...” I start.
“Let's leave it, then.” Master Wolte doesn't seem pleased with the choice, but he is going along... and saving me from having to decide. Maybe I'm a bit cynical, but I wonder if he is deciding to pick his battles and this one is just not worth the effort if it weakens his influence down the line.

.....

“Ok, that is done. I suggest we move out with Lt. Al-Zafirah scouting out in front, maybe a klick or so, with the vehicles fairly close together and you...” here I motion towards Sonya, “and I on either side in our 'Mechs.”
Sonya suddenly looks drained, maybe even frightened. “Sir, I don't even know how to make it run yet, I don't know how to shoot the laser or the missiles. I can't...”
Her growing appearance of panic must be stopped and I interrupt, “Lieutenant Tavares! I just want you to walk the 2x. Even Joe could do that when he was... um... out of it. Heck, he couldn't even walk himself when he was like that. You are smarter and more coordinated than he ever was. You can do this. I'm the one they will shoot at first anyway if someone shows up. And if they do, I want you to run away; we need you to preserve that 'Mech. Let Fatima... sorry, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah and I deal with any fighting unless you are cornered and have no other choice.”
She seems to have settled down. Even if she hasn't I have her complete attention.
“That is an order, Ma'am.”
Sonya relaxes as if unburdened from a hundred kilo pack, but I now have everyone else's complete attention. The expressions seem unreadable, I am being evaluated and do not know if I have any clue how I am doing.
I look at Lt. Al-Zafirah and ask, “does that plan make sense?”
She is looking at me, no expression, no motion.
I glance at Hanse and then let my eyes move back to her.
She is still fixed, no sign of an answer, not even anything that might indicate she heard me at all.
“Are you telling us or asking us?” she finally asks.
I look around and while I get the sense that their eyes were on her just a moment ago, everyone but Sonya is watching me with faces carved from expressionless stone.
“I rather ask, but if we run out of time, then either I tell or someone else leads.”
She smiles. It is good to see her smile.
“Your orders are good up to about the second river. From then on, I think we should move one 'Mech or vehicle at a time, and I should walk with them to keep them under the ECM.”
“Then unless there are objections, that is what we will do. Agreed?”
Everyone nods.
“Plan B?” Master Wolte asks.
“If we are attacked, I will turn east and try to draw them away or at least into fighting me. Vehicles head to the crossing at the second river as fast as you can. Lt. Tavares, stay with the vehicles unless you are endangering them... if you are, run west and then curve north to the mine. Lt. Al-Zafirah, support the vehicles as much as possible, choose your direction from your best judgment if you are putting them at risk. Meet up with them at the second crossing and lead them on to the mine. Ensign Marks, you know the route from studying the maps, you have command of the vehicles themselves. Get any or all to the rendezvous. If neither 'Mech is with you after an hour, go on to the mine on your own.” I look around at all of them. “Questions? Problems?”
They remain thoughtful but all nod. I even think I see Hanse smile just a little... for a moment.
“Ok, GZR mission 316, get ready to ride. Sequence will be on my pulse, radio silence until or unless we have contact, then vehicles try to stay silent if at all possible.”
“You heard the man,” Master Wolte says and we all start to move.

…..

The Black Knight cockpit is roomy, but seems rather a mishmash of systems and parts from other 'Mech cockpits. The command couch is rather ill-fitting, but I strap myself in and nestle the neurohelm onto my head... and feel two searing stabs as electrical current from sensors zaps the gash behind my ear. Still, I think I can feel the raw power of the 'Mech as the massive gyros begin to spin up.
“Naomi?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Naomi, please run the combat diagnostic.”
“Running.”
The console begins to glow with indicators and lit buttons. Unlike the 2x, the layout feels a bit less intentional and even a little haphazard. Several of the displays don't even line up with each other.
Naomi calls each test and the component system when it clears. Finally, she announces, “All systems go for combat.”
The overhead console has a line of safety switches, all faintly pulsing red. ErPPC, LPL-1, LPL-2, four numbered MLs, and one SL. I reach up and flick each one to the “armed” position. One by one, the many laser capacitors begin to hum until the whole cockpit seems to vibrate with the drone.
As the last one goes green, I quietly say, “Naomi, please stand us.”
I seem to tower over the Ravens, and have to look down to see the vehicles. On our mission channel I say, “Ready?”
Five replies sound, all are affirmative.
“Sequence pulse in five, four, three, two, one.” I push the little button for a manual tone pulse.
“Switching to command sequence,” Naomi states.
“Everyone here?” I ask.
Again, five answers indicate we are together again.
“Ok, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah, please lead out.”
“En route, Commander.”
Her 3L disappears into the rainy darkness. I have her on sensors. Now I don't.
“Lieutenant Tavares, please take the right side, about even with the last vehicle,” I say while carefully walking this ungainly contraption to the left about even with the bus.
“Yes, sir.”
“Ok, team, move out.”

Edited by cmopatrick, 15 February 2013 - 08:50 PM.

[cmopatrick]

It has only taken about ten steps for me to wonder if I couldn't just stop, walk (on foot) to the spaceport, and catch a transport back home. I know that the booster shots Sonya gave me are still working on my hand and are trying to work on the angry pain in my shoulder, but the seat is jarring and uncomfortable, and this stupid neurohelmet's contacts are trying to electrocute my unprotected open wound. All this and I’m unexpectedly spawning a rock crusher headache as a side benefit.
I hope we don't encounter anyone. If we do I hope it is an occasion for me to go down fast in a blaze of glory the rest will at least remember for a few weeks.
One step at a time.
I have got to make it, not for me, but for these folks. It seems they are actually counting on me. This is murder.
One step at a time.
How could they be so... OWWw! I look about and realize that I have just stepped down a half meter into a ditch, and because I was wallowing in misery I missed the obvious. (sigh).
One step at a time while looking at what I am doing...

…..

“Taking small arms fire.” That sounds like Master Wolte.
I look around, nothing seems unusual. We are about forty-five klicks East Northeast of the Tornado wreck and about to cross a rain choked tributary not much smaller than I suspect the river is. The bridge is simple and sturdy, made to hold the vehicles, but not 'Mechs; it is also open and close with no hiding place that I can detect. Here and there are low trees sparsely scattered across the open ground, a thicker stand seems to be out across the creek maybe two clicks, but it is hard to be sure in this downpour, even with the light amp on.
“Where?”
“Not sure.”
Behind me, in the center of the column, the duce and a half suddenly jerks left and seems poised to try to ram my leg when it gets hung up.
Puzzled, I ask, “You Ok back there?”
There is no answer.
Fatima breaks her silence. “Snipers in trees. Use heat.” I don't know where she is, but I flip over to the infra-red vision and there in those distant trees are indeed a number of small heat signatures.
I see red. No, not just red, but RED! SCREAMING FLAMING CRIMSON RED!
My pains are subsumed in the adrenaline and my anger finds a direction I won't be corrected for. Throttle up, running through the flood right at them. There is a bit of motion, but I'm closing fast. My range indicator on the ErPPC flashes and I fire. It goes a little wide left, but I see more heat showing in the view. Bet the trees are on fire, serve the dogs right to get roasted. It seems they are trying to move to the right, but now I can see laser fire from their far side... Fatima is no more merciful than I am and she is a better shot. One knot remains and I unleash another streaming torrent of focused protons. I reach LPL range, but realize there are no targets left.
“Looks clear,” I hear myself say.
I slow and turn, trying to control the shaking my hands seem intent on allowing.
“Lisa, you Ok back there?” I ask while walking back towards our entourage.
“Crew-woman Monroe is dead,” cuts through the channel. I know I have gasped; she was driving the duce and a half.
I knew I should never be in charge, they are letting me lead them to their deaths. Doubt assails me with a club and recrimination pins me down with laser fire. In the rear view, I see the knot of trees has become a pyre. I know they are not alive, but I can't help wishing one or more of them were so they could suffer slowly.
I run the Black Knight back to our little convoy. As I approach, it's obvious they are moving her body into the back of her vehicle.
Master Wolte runs back up and seats himself behind the wheel. The comms impatiently announce, “I have the duce and a half. She is aboard. Let's get going.”
I must act responsibly... I must. Turning the 'Mech, I order “Move out.”

…..

Bam!
I remember reading something once that was as torturously miserable as this is turning out to be.
Bam!
It went something like, “slog-slog-slog-slogging over Africa” and was about something as interminable as this walk is.
Bam!
If I though I knew what hurt is when we started, I was badly mistaken.
Bam!
Each step jars every part of me as badly as driving over washboard roads in one of da's trucks used to.
Bam!
The 2x seat adjusted it's various hydraulic and pneumatic suspension systems to keep me floating above all but the worst walking vibrations...
Bam!
... but this one plays pogo stick for each step, trying to launch me against the harness and my helmet connections at the top...
Bam!
And then the “Bam!” pounding me at the bottom end as the whole assembly slams onto the hard rails underneath it.
Bam!
If the controls weren't attached to the seat, I couldn't move this thing at all.
Bam!
Even if my right shoulder wasn't wounded it would scream... no, wait, it WASN'T.
Bam!
I want to scream soooooo badly. This is murder.
Bam!
I wonder if I can force an eject... just push a button and the stupid thing will die on the ground as I jet off.
Bam!
How does anyone fight in this anyway? Maybe this is why we beat them so badly.
Bam!
I think decapitation is preferable to this. My head seems about ready to explode anyway.
Bam!
Maybe I can get Sonya to take this 'Mech next time.
Bam!

…..

We are waiting on the north side of the second river. By “we” I mean the three vehicles, Sonya in the 2X and myself. Fatima is scouting the remaining fifty or so kilometers between us and the mine; well at least that is what I remember us discussing.
I pull up the battle map. This is hilly country, and it looks like there is one road we will need to cross. I wonder where that leads and zoom out. That looks familiar... west of us it... oh. That is where we “pirates” attacked the supply convoys. I zoom out once more and to the east see the base Fatima and I were headed out to recon when things went wrong. Two days ago. Or was it three? Kinda hard to keep my days straight right now, and the oppression my headache is imposing makes independent thought all the more difficult.
As I wallow in my misery, it seems there is an odd smell. I know that smell, but for a moment can't figure out where from. I raise the visor and see nothing unusual, but notice the smell is a little stronger.
“Naomi, do you know what that smell is?”
'I am not equipped with anything to detect smells.”
“Any systems showing problems?
“No, weapons all still green and engine output at idle.”
“Oh, thanks.” Maybe I need to look around myself. “Naomi, kneel the 'Mech, please. I need to check something.”
The harness releases and I look around at the compartment. Something glints on the floor, the interior light reveals fluid... lots of fluid. I reach down and feel it, it is an oil of some sort. One whiff of it on my fingers and I am instantly convinced of two things: it is hydraulic fluid and it's presence on the floor probably reflects an absence in my chair suspension. Maybe I should fix that.

Edited by cmopatrick, 16 February 2013 - 10:35 AM.

[cmopatrick]

Well, I finish jury rigging the command chair so at least it won't bounce with each step; it isn't pretty, but I have bumped the air pressure up to where the chair is frozen in place at the top of it's travel. Tromping my big stompy 'Mech around will still hurt, but at least I think I can survive long enough to cover the remaining klicks to our hiding place and repair the hydraulics there.
I wonder if we should do something for Lisa. Maybe bury her here near the river. No, I guess that wouldn't work, I really don't want to break radio silence right now and besides, my 'Mech won't be much good should we be attacked while I’m not in it.
Ah, there she is: Fatima returns.
Her Raven walks up to face me; well, the Black Knight has to bend forward a bit to let me look at her upturned beak. I see her running lights flash and wonder if she wants to tunnel. Um...
“Naomi, where is the tunneling link button in this 'Mech?”
“On it's comm panel.”
“And that is?”
“In the cockpit.”
“Fat lotta help you are.”
“You are welcome.”
If she were a woman, I could almost imagine that she would have that ornery smart-acre look painted all over her face.
I look around and finally see the panel in the most unlikely of spots... I can barely reach it without unhooking the harness again. Once pushed, the button begins the aligning...

.....

“Took you long enough, Commander.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. I think they stuck the stupid panel the button's on in the worst possible place and my ai is being a... er... pain. So what's up? Did we plan to do a tunnel and I just forgot?”
“No. We have a problem. Well, two actually. The first is that if we continue on this course, we will have to cross a roadway about twenty klicks in front of us at LimaJuliet 582. Worse is that if we follow this road, the intersection with the highway has several places where people stop. While the road traffic is light enough this late that we should have no trouble in that regard, there are a lot of people out in the area around the intersection.”
I pull up my Battlemap as she says this. Zooming in, I notice the intersection isn't actually a direct walk across. The road north is actually a little to the west, on the edge of a cluster of buildings. There is something else, the area is completely surrounded by sharp hills with just the narrow gaps for the roadways through them.
She continues, “It is just over ten klicks east of where I hot dropped for our 'pirate' raid; the territory is very rough. I'm very concerned that we will not be able to get the vehicles through without either they or our 'Mechs being spotted.”
I zoom back a bit to look for an alternative.
“The second problem is that there has been activity within five klicks of our little hideout. Recent activity.” She seems to pause, then, “Recent 'Mech activity. A patrol route from the look.”
“You think Ms. Abboud set us up?”
“I do not know. You did say she mentioned something about the survivors from the other unit hiding in a mine to the north.”
“Have they been near the one we are headed for?”
“No, there are no tracks and there isn't any seismic signature there.”
“Well, what do you recommend? I rather not be out in the open.”
“Nor I. If you pull up you Battlemap, I can show you an option I took a quick walk over.”
“Already up.”
“Very good.” She sounds impressed. “There is a turnoff about ten kilometers north at KiloZulu 583. It is narrow, but paved; if we keep the 'Mechs off on the south side, we can move us all along at a better pace than we have been able to maintain here. Can you see where it turns north?”
“KiloZulu 565.”
“Very good, Commander. When it turns north it does meander a bit, but makes the crossroad at the point where there do not seem to be any buildings or other reasons for people to congregate. The road is straight enough for a couple clicks on either side that we could see vehicle lights at a distance. With a bit of careful spotting, we can cross there undetected.”
I zoom the map a bit and see that the road north of it looks more twisty. For that matter, it seems to head northeast while the mine at that point will be northwest.
“But doesn't that take us the wrong way?”
“There is another way in from the north, I actually think it is the old miner's road. We would be going out of our way by several hours, but what I saw of the route makes me think we are safer that way and if we get going now, we should be able to make it there before local dawn.”
It all makes sense.
“I think this is what we need to do. Do the other vehicles have a tunneling thing too?”
“No, just 'Mechs.”
“Oh, well, I guess one of us will have to dismount and let the others know.”
“Yes. I need to keep the field on to cover us, so...”
I chuckle, “Yeah, I know. I'll flash when I’m back and you can lead out.”
“Well, until we reach the turn. Then you will have to walk in front and Lt. Tavares behind with the vehicles bunched pretty close together. Remember that the ECM only covers a radius of 180 meters.”
“Got it. Be right back.”

…..

My right hand is swollen again. Now that I am in front, my throttle is maybe more important, but my shoulder, too, is alive with fire.
The bouncing hell is over, but now I feel every vibration with only as much padding as I have... er... as standard original equipment... Ok, the part of me I sit on. For better or worse, right now that doesn't seem like much.
Ahead, a pair of headlights rounds a distant bend: they are coming right at us. There is no real choice, our vehicles would get bogged in mud the minute they leave the road. But part of me balks at killing an innocent someone just because they are in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Radio silence be damned, I key up on the command sequence, “you three stay on the road. We'll move clear and rejoin you after they pass or you pass them. Or if you need help.”
I turn right and hope the other two follow suit quickly. The oncoming vehicle seems to be moving pretty fast, it will be close enough to see us if we are not 500 meters or more off the road in the next minute, tops.
Our vehicles keep moving, acting like there is no reason for concern.
I, however, am sure I have done the wrong thing. Should I head back and stop the oncoming lights? The others are with me in the downpour's gloom, a small group of lanky trees hides my larger frame.
What looks like a small pickup rushes past each of the vehicles, then speeds on into the night.
I wonder if the others are as relieved as I am.

Edited by cmopatrick, 16 February 2013 - 11:30 PM.

[cmopatrick]

The rain has slacked off a bit. I think I can actually see details of trees and the hills behind them. Indeed, there almost opposite me must be the valley the road is supposed to follow; it is a darkness that deepens with distance.
Wind gusts have picked up and we are having trouble keeping the tarp secured over the salvage loaded on the lowboy. While Master Wolte and Ensign Marks fight to further restrain the wannabe sail, our three “Mechs are standing bunched close together on a slight rise. I can only just make out the road a kilometer and a half ahead, there have been no vehicles on it for the ten minutes or so since we arrived.
I wonder how Anne is doing in the Land Train. At least it has driver assist, a simple ai that might make it easier on her cast laden legs. I don't envy her, though.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the hand-held light flashing in my direction; it is the signal Lloyd had suggested to indicate they are ready. I turn towards the 3L and flash my running lights. Fatima repeats the signal to Sonya and we all three turn towards the vehicles in the roadway.
Slowly, I walk down the hill. Trying not to lose Fatima's ECM or the bus on my left takes a lot of attention, and I nearly miss the fact that just before the crossroads the gap between the trees narrows to barely the width of the road. Lloyd in the bus is oblivious and is into and through the narrow tunnel without me beside him. Hanse, fortunately, is paying attention and I slip in front of him to make the passage. Ok, the Black Knight is so broad that I break quite a few branches, but after such a storm, wouldn't that be normal?
No lights in either direction. After stopping to check, Ensign Marks drives on across the highway as we had agreed. I, too, step across, trying to be careful not to step too close to the intersection. The bus slows to a crawl about a klick out, waiting for us to catch up. I am not too far behind, but turn to cover the crossing for the rest. Each vehicle makes their way to where the bus is all but parked, and both Ravens do so as well.
Well, that was easy.
We all turn up the valley and find the going is pretty good. There is a rain-swollen stream fighting with the boulders that litter it for a safe passage to the river and there are many conifers in loose stands that might be just as the terraformers dropped them.

…..

Just below level with my cockpit is a ball of some sort, floating in the air. It is maybe thirty meters ahead of me and I might easily have missed it if it wasn't swinging as if in the wind.
Again, Lloyd has missed the fact that I have stopped and is driving ahead anyway; this time the rest of the vehicles follow. From behind me a searchlight blasts out into the darkness and night vision in my visor turns it into a brilliant light.
“Wires.” Fatima's voice announces as the light goes off.
The brake lights come on on all three vehicles.
I get it, those are power lines. Big ones.
There is a flashing behind me and I turn to see the 3L running lights blinking merrily. Well, she does stop once she is sure I know we need to tunnel.

…..

“So they are below your cockpit?” Fatima asks.
“Yes, Ma'am.”
“This is my mistake, it never occurred to me to look up.”
“Will they electrocute me if I just walk through them?”
“It doesn't matter. If the wires were damaged like that, there would be crews out quickly and it won't be difficult to identify or find us.”
The command sequence comes to life, “We need to move on from here.” There is urgency in Master Wolte's voice. He is right, all the more so because now we are using the comms as well; with this terrain we are boxed in and would be easy targets from the air.
“The BK can't go under these wires, we have to turn around and go back or he will be give us away,” Lieutenant Al-Zafirah states.
“No.” I don't really know why I say it, but I do. “Take everyone else on to the mine and set up camp. Leave this sequence up and if I get in trouble, I'll let you know.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don't know yet, I’m making this up as I go.”
“Pull up your BM, Commander.” I think that is Lloyd.
My what? Oh, BattleMap. I do and say so.
“Do you see the river along the 549 line?”
“Yes.”
“If the power lines follow the trail I think they do, they cross it at LimaNovember 549. I bet the lines cross that river valley either under the river or high above it... much higher than you highest antenna.”
If I loosely parallel the highway, I could reach that river road and work my way up past the wires. I am about to key up when it occurs to me that there are no straight roads back. If I do this, I might not be able to make it back before morning.
Fatima seems to be thinking the same thing, “No, he would be exposed.”
“Lieutenant, get them to safety. I will get there as soon as I can. If I don't make it by local midnight tomorrow, you can backtrack the shortest route to the north side of those wires.”
“NO.”
I hear myself say it before I have taken time to think, “That is an order, Lieutenant.”
Silence.
I know I shouldn't have said that.
Silence still.
Finally, “Yes, Sir.”
“I'll call if something bad happens.”
Silence. No one is moving, either.
“Look, I've already gotten one of us killed tonight. If you want me to lead, please don't question this choice.”
Still no reply or movement.
“Go, people!” I say while turning back towards the highway. In my rear view I see brake lights on the vehicles come on, then what appears to be their rolling on up the valley. Now a silhouette of a Raven crosses their lights, it is moving behind them. I don't see the other Raven, but trust that they will do as I asked.

(edit: spelling and a punctuation change)

Edited by cmopatrick, 23 February 2013 - 06:36 PM.

[cmopatrick]

This was a mistake. Another one. Great leader I turned out to be. Well, if I survive this, I bet they choose someone else. I hope they do.
I hurt. Really, really hurt. I'm not even to the river yet and I hurt so bad I just want to park this piece of junk, walk away, and just let it self-destruct. Whatever got into me to think I could pilot it? I should have just left it sit in the Tornado wreck and blown it to bits. I would be in the 2x and with everyone else. We would be almost to shelter. I wouldn't be trying to keep this torture chamber on legs moving.
How far have I come along the highway? Ten klicks? Fifteen? The river can't be that far ahead.
I pull up the Battlemap and my stomach churns; I realize that pain must make the distances pass more slowly... I have maybe gone seven kilometers towards the river, with more than that again still ahead before I get there.
I suddenly find myself missing Lisa. Wishing I could even endure her insane speeding again. I long for the hint of anything that would unwind the hours and free her from a pointless death, but nothing in this universe will undo what has been done. My guilt is a blanket, soaked in her blood and weighed down with my own incompetence.
The 'Mech crunches along through the underbrush. Maybe if I gave it to them, told them the others had all died, and asked only to go home, they would see my age and send me home like the foolish kid I am.
Fool. Yup. Writ large.
A particularly sharp jolt brings me up short and I am instantly needlessly angry.
“STOP THAT!” I yell at the mindless machine, irrespective of the fact that it can no more stop when I’m keeping the throttle up than I can warp space-time and jump it over the power lines. I feel still more foolish at letting my temper fail so badly again, but that feeling does nothing to diminish the runaway emotion.
Naomi offers a bit of counterpoint, “If you wish me to stop any command, you must first issue one and then request that it be stopped or canceled.”
“I wasn't talking to you.”
“Is there someone else in your cockpit?”
“No, of course not.”
“Who were you ordering to 'stop that!' then?”
“In a moment it will be you to stop asking me stupid questions!”
In the ensuing silence, I am left to my pain... well, and the many little sounds of a moving 'Mech. Ok, it isn't really silent, but it's close.

…..

My granda once told me the legend of the supposed first Brian in our family, Brian Boru. He was a hero and fought against invaders and won. He endured trials and hardships. Oh, and he lived nearly two thousand years ago. Granda wanted me to understand and be inspired by that old king. Well, it didn't work, then or now. Right now, when I could actually use inspiration, all I can think of is that I'm glad I wasn't there back then. I’m so inadequate against just about any task that has come my way and I honestly just wish the walk could end so I could cry silently in a corner somewhere while my body tries to recover from this abuse.

…..

There are brief gaps between the squalls where starlight makes the scene before me almost wonderful.
I have reached a vantage above the river where I can study it's channel as it narrows into a curvaceous gorge. Down-river from here the opposite seems to happen, the flow follows it's slow winding delta into the mouth of a huge lake. Across the river to the east, a minor range of mountains is nevertheless offering peaks with white mantles to the cloud eyes and the stars they contain.
It would be a perfect scene, idyllic in so many ways and maybe even spectacular in daylight were it not for one thing: about a klick in front of me is a tower of some sort that my sensors are reporting as an enemy. It stands between me and the road up the gorge towards my freedom, holding the mouth of the canyon like a guard dog watches his family's home. It taunts me through the dark, daring me to make a decision and waiting to convert any mistake on my part into disaster for the rest of my team.
I just sit and look at it. I know I need to do something, but what? Every thought seems to offer an answer is immediately followed by forty times the problems against it. “Indecision” is suddenly my middle name.

…..

I am still trying to make up my mind. The mission clock says it has been almost two hours that I have held this spot. Self-loathing and recrimination duel with doubt and inability to decide what I can, much less should, do.
The few partings in the clouds have gotten fewer, and the clouds themselves have drifted down the far mountainsides to shroud most of the uplands. Unexpectedly, a gap comes that is not dark on the other side: dawn is almost here!
Where can I hide? How can I hide? There are no big trees here, just scrubby juniper-like conifers and lots of boulders. No time to go back. No time to go up the canyon even it the tower wasn't there. I look back towards the lake and remember that I can take a 'Mech underwater; well, if the water is deep enough.
I need to get to the river. I need to do it now, or the tower will spot me in the growing light. Throttle up. Pain re-screams of the ill I am suffering my body to endure. I am moving anyway.
There is a narrow road that runs along the river bank. It is deserted and I am striding into it's broad shoulder to cross it. One leg swings over it. I feel the weight moving forward.
Down the road a kilometer or so to the south a semi rounds a corner; ablaze with it's late night “day” floodlights on, I have no doubt I am visible. Not just a silhouette, but with that much candlepower I bet they can spot rust and dents. On into the river I stride the Black Knight, not waiting to find out what interest I might have for the trucker.
Rats! It isn't deep enough! A quick glance over my shoulder tells me the driver isn't slowing down, but I’m not going to stand here and let him call me in. I wade on towards the far shore. I'm three quarters of the way across when I finally find a deepening channel and can walk deep enough to submerge myself into the silted river. I go on a short way and then stop to consider my situation.
Hmmmm, maybe I can get part way home after all. If it stays deep enough maybe I can slip upriver towards the north, maybe even get far enough to be under the power lines and ready to move when darkness comes. Lotta "maybes" there, but I guess it can't hurt to try... well, any more than any other walking in this hurts.

Edited by cmopatrick, 21 February 2013 - 08:27 PM.

[cmopatrick]

The river moves, I can feel it. Nothing is visible through the unending brown and there are no real sounds I can identify, but I feel it ever and always pushing on the Black Knight. I am halfway up the river's canyon passage; the depth has indeed been enough, though going any further would raise me up to where I and my 'Mech will be visible. I'm just waiting for dark.
Waiting.
I have been practicing with the BTCT, but can't really seem to focus very well with my stomach rumbling and my several wounds begging for relief.
More waiting.
The Battlemap has also become boring, though I know I haven't scratched the surface of what it can tell me. Maybe with Lloyd as a tutor I can learn enough to read it like he and Fatima do, but right now understanding it is just another thing I need to stop being incompetent at.
Still waiting... (sigh).
I keep coming back to the fact that my jury rigged cockpit neglected to have some of the simpler necessities installed: like storage for food or water. Even the water purification and extraction systems seem not to have been finished, the plumbing is capped off and sealed. Well, at least the fold down... er... personal facilities are working, though I wonder how long until the naturally generated odors... um... ripen. I know there is supposed to be a recycling thing hooked up to it, but that too was going to be taken care of when we got to the mine. In the mean time, it seems that I will have to just survive as best I can.
Bored waiting.
I have had little excitement standing here, just a few times where there were sensor contacts and I shut down for ten to fifteen minutes. I'm really glad that I seem to be a bit out of the way.
Bummmp. Something like a tree trunk floats past, rubbing against the windscreen. Excitement! Wooohooo!
Did I mention that I am going to have to wait like this until nightfall? What I wish I could do most is take a nap. “Naomi, are we safe for me to sleep when we are crouched like this?
“Of course, Sir. Would you like a wake up alarm set?”
“Sure. How much time left until local night?”
“About seven hours, Padraig.”
“Thank you, Ma'am. Would you please set an alarm for about eight hours?”
“Alarm set. Sleep well, sir.”
I look out at the boring brown and feel the river flow...

…..

There is a loud clanging jarring me from the semblance of rest. My eyes want to stay closed, but my ears are about to pitch a fit, so open the eyelids go. “Hello?!”
Naomi answers as the clanging ceases, “Your wake up call is now complete.”
I feel like I’m rather in a daze and it sure seems hot in here. No, the temp gages show normal; if anything my environmental settings are being held on the cooler side. Still, I feel completely flushed and I ache even in places I didn't just hours ago. I want a drink of water so badly, but in spite of it's volume just outside my compartment I sit here unable to slake that thirst.
I raise my hand to touch my cheek and realize I am very hot. Not on the outside, but the inside. Fever. I need to get to camp. NOW!
As I reach for my controls, I realize that my right hand's swelling has not gone down; if anything, it is worse. The wrapping that was to have held things together until we could get past our last “mission” is now disintegrating, my broken bones each bellow for attention, and even worse, my fingertips have become completely numb. I can barely hold the directional and weapons joystick in a manner that will let me move, much less manage the weapons. I look down at the extremity and try to will it to obey regardless of the pain, but only convince myself that my greatest danger will be accidentally firing a weapon.
“Naomi, can you disable the weapons triggers on the right hand joystick?”
“Yes, Padraig.”
This is getting on my nerves. “Naomi, will you disable the weapons triggers on the right hand joystick?”
“Triggers disabled, sir.”
“Thanks.”
My left shoulder hurts a lot. Ok, that is an understatement, I'm whining enough without adding this. Besides, I need to practice being tough. The very thought of being tough is such a joke right now; no one watching me would ever mistake what I am for tough.
Somehow, I get the map up, orient myself towards north, and begin walking through the ink-dark waters.

…..

I stand at the mouth of what is unmistakably an old mine. Someone has hollowed out a large slice of mountainside, probably for shelter to process the ore, leaving a huge overhang marked by only a few natural posts of the native rock at the front to help stabilize it.
Under the massif is the most welcome sight I have ever beheld: two Ravens, three vehicles, four silhouettes and... (sigh)... and a campfire.
I am ready to die.
I have been walking for hours through a living hell of pain. I seem to have shut most of the horror out of my memory... I don't remember most of the walk, and if I did, it would be almost worse in the retelling. I know I did it or I wouldn't be here now, but I could not prove that it was me based on any experience along the way. I guess I'm developing an autopilot for moving a 'Mech.
Through the darkness I step the last few paces, stopping well under the overhang but before the ceiling comes ominously close. As I do so, I realize the 3L is tracking me; Fatima must be the missing person down below.
“Naomi, kneel the 'Mech, please.”
“As you wish, sir.”
The BK settles and so, I hope, ends my misery.

…..

Through a haze I imagine a dream of a familiar face. Not sure who, but kindly. Quiet cute, too. The face appears to be speaking, but all I hear is a steady rhythm of some big drum: Bump! Bmp. Bump! Bmp. Bump! Bmp.
The face comes closer and I feel a coolness... maybe a wet cloud blown gently across my face. No, more like pulling a cool wet t-shirt over my head on a summer day. Well, sorta.
I think I hear words.
“... you hear me? Bink if you can't speak. Padraig, can you hear me?”
Blinking as communication, what a novel concept. But what if I can speak?
The face looks away and it seems there are other faces nearby.
That first face says something, then adds, “I can't get anything out of him. Will one of you decide?”
A disembodied voice says what I think means, “Ask him again, Ms. Abboud. He seems to be coming around.”
Abboud... that seems familiar from somewhere.
The first face has returned. Yes, she is familiar, too. Ah, Abboud is her. Um... Fair something.
She repeats, “Padraig, can you hear me?”
Somewhere deep inside I recognize that I should answer, “Yes” and I do.
She is smiling now. What a lovely smile.
“I need your permission to bring someone here to help you.”
“Ok,” comes out, then after a moment's pause, “You are sure pretty.”
She smiles and rolls her eyes, “Thank you.” Looking up at the others, she says, "you heard him say 'Ok' didn't you? I'm going to get help and you won't shoot me when I get back... right?”
Someone laughs and I hear another voice say, “Go.”
Pretty face moves away and the cool t-shirt seems to have left with her.

…..

A lovely face, with black eyes framed by a tumble of black hair and a most kissable mouth, hovers just above me.
A little light shines into my left eye, then goes out. Nope, now it is back... er... out. Is this a game? How can I play? Ooops, too slow; now the right eye is playing with the light. I wish they would tell me the rules, I can't think hard enough to figure this game out.
I think those sounds mean something, it is like a rhythm the way they make them together.
“They.” Aren't I one of “they?”
Lovely face returns and seems to communicate with me, but I can only get the impression that something will help me feel better.
I feel so warm.

Edited by cmopatrick, 23 February 2013 - 04:55 PM.

[cmopatrick]

I wake to a conversation and recognize immediately that the fever is gone. The fuzziness I seem to have survived for however long has fled away to drain someone else. Opening my eyes a crack, I see Fairuz sitting by the foot of my bed while Fatima has drawn up a chair to sit and socailize.
“Your name is Fairuz? That sounds familiar... wasn't there a Terran singer by that name ages ago?”
“Yup. Grandfather loves those type recordings and my mother named me after her.”
For the first time I can remember, Fatima looks relaxed and maybe even shares a friendly smile. “My mother and her mother before her listened to many of the old Terran recordings, especially after we left Damascus. I think I even have copies of many songs Fairuz sang.”
“You mean the REAL Damascus? The Terran one?”
Fatima smiles, but there is more than a hint of sadness there, too. “Yes. We were Terran before my father decided to move us out to New Avalon at the request of his uncle, Imam Omar at the White Mosque of Flensburg.”
“Wow, I've never met anyone from Arab Terra.”
Fatima seems to want to change the topic, “Can you sing like the famous Fairuz did?”
Fairuz laughs merrily, “Oh heavens, no! If I try to string more that a few notes together, the dog starts howling.”
“You have a dog?” There is obvious distaste in Fatima's question.
“Yes, a snowy retriever... well, I had one.”
Fatima is looking her up and down like she is seeing Fairuz for the first time. She says something in a language I have never heard, but with which Fairuz is obviously fluent.
Back and forth they talk, with Fatima seeming to get almost angry before she is struck with that “oh...” look and obviously understands something she must have missed before.
Fairuz looks over at me. I get the impression that she has known all along that I am awake. Unbidden, she explains, “Fatima is a Sunni Muslim, I am a Maronite Christian. I think she had never understood that the famous singer named Fairuz, a woman once much loved throughout the Arab world was herself a Maronite Christian from my ancestral home of Lebanon... it is a natural mistake that many have made without malice. Since we both are from the same general ancestral region, speak Arabic and hold many interests in common, it was not an unnatural conclusion on her part to think that I must be Muslim, too. My having had a dog kinda put the lie to that, but now we understand our frames of reference.”
I have no clue what that is about, but Fatima is nodding in agreement and I'm too tired to risk pushing this friendly scene back into some heated debate.

…..

I have seen this woman's face in a dream. She is walking towards me now, talking with Fairuz and nodding in agreement with some point. Her deep eyes seem ebony against her broad bone-white smile. I think her hair is different than my dream, somehow, but can not imagine what. She must be near forty, but in a timeless way could also be twenty-five or fifty-five. She wears the cooling suit and her shapely legs are bare to above the knee: she must be a pilot.
“How are you, Padraig O'Brian?” she asks.
Somehow I'm not surprised that she knows my name. “I'm getting better... um...”
She laughs, as does Fairuz, “I am Commander Nanako Tetsuhara. I was your healer while you were ill.”
“Who?!” Master Wolte's voice carries and I see him jump up and run our direction.
She is suddenly defensive, her sidearm appears to be loose and ready to draw.
Hanse runs up and asks her pointedly, “Who did you say you are?”
“Nanako Tetsuhara. And yes, chichi was... oh, sorry, my father was General Minobu Tetsuhara.”
For a moment, I think Master Wolte is going to draw his weapon and she certainly has her hand on hers.
“NO!” It is all I can shout, but it breaks the sense of inevitability to whatever was happening. “What is going on here?”
They both look at me.
“She's a Snake,” there is absolute hatred dripping from the words that leave Master Wolte's lips, “and she was probably there.”
Before I can ask where, she speaks, “Yes, and after Jaimie honored my father I repaid the honor by saving one of your own, Dragoon.”
“But how many did you kill, Drac?” I have never seen Hanse so intensely angry himself.
“I am a doctor, I was assigned to my father's command as his personal physician. Until I rescued Captain Urso, I had never been in a 'Mech, and to my knowledge I have never killed any of your brothers.”
There is a change in his expression, “Urso? Tammar Urso? Describe her.”
Nanako smiles and it seems that tension is slipping away from us to disturb some other group... for now.
“She is a bear of a woman, even at her age.”
Hanse nods, “Is? I have no doubt she would be, if she still lives.”
“Until a few weeks ago, that was her 'Mech.” With this statement, she points at the BK. “She is as recovered as can be and if she...” here Nanako nods towards Fairuz, “has anything to say about it, you will see her soon.”
Master Wolte nods and his hand leaves his weapon for another time.
“As I was saying,” she resumes speaking with me, “I am Commander Nanako Tetsuhara. I am the one who removed the bullet from your shoulder and set that hand.” Her eye contact is intense, “so as your doctor, let me again ask how you are doing...”

…..

Fairuz' six-by rolls into the cave followed by a smallish 'Mech. The six-by's half dozen immense tires look like cartoonish balloons, but they so distribute the weight that is can cross soft terrain with little mark left. It carries some fifteen tons of vehicle and at least as much more in supplies; it is essentially a poor person's hovercraft. They are usually ICE powered; so yes, I have worked on them several times before... heck, I used to wish I had one when I was a kid.
The cab of this ATV truck sits some five meters off the ground. It is from this cab that a most remarkable person now exits. She seems tall and proud, wearing a crisp uniform with just one defect: her right sleeve is pinned up above her elbow where the limb has obviously been lost.
Captain Tammar Urso is one of those folks I can't imagine sitting in a 'Mech cockpit. She is easily thirty-five or forty centimeters taller than I am, and might weigh a third as much again... and that without her right arm. Mind you, she does not look like she has a gram of fat in that frame, it is all muscle and attitude. I have no idea how old she is.
Master Wolte walks to her as she descends. Coming to attention, he gives her an odd salute, one she matches in return. I don't hear what they have to say, but they obviously know each other at least a little.

Edited by cmopatrick, 23 February 2013 - 10:54 PM.

[cmopatrick]

We now have five 'Mechs standing under the dense rock, their various painting reflecting the limited sunlight that's finding it's way in. In addition to the Black Knight and both Ravens, there is an NTK-2Q Night Hawk with a huge amount of firepower for the size and an odd looking smaller 'Mech called a “Spider” that apparently can jump great distances.
It was rather strange to realize that Commander Tetsuhara piloted both of these newer 'Mechs in, I’m not sure what they can do with the other one, considering the Captain's wounds... wounds that I guess we gave her.

…..

“Ms. Abboud, you need to get back or they will suspect you.” Captain Urso appears to be giving orders now.
“I'm not going back,” Fairuz replies.
“I thought we already had this discussion. You are not coming with us.”
“No, I am going with them.” I look up and she is pointing at us, maybe even just at me.
“No, you are not going with them either.”
“Padraig promised that I can.”
Now that I hear my name, I rise to join the conversation.
Captain Urso turns her angry gaze my way for a moment, then looks back at Fairuz, “So? I have told you and that is enough.”
Fairuz appeals to me, “Padraig, you promised.”
“I did and I stand by that. She may have been careful not to say it was her own life I would endanger, but she has every right to stay with us.”
“And just who gave you that authority, cub?” She looks angrily around at the rest of the GZR survivors, “which of you is in command here? I want this woman out of here and I won't deal with a weanling, much less one challenging my authority.”
Fatima, Hanse, and Sonya all stand slowly, and I notice that Fatima's hand is resting lightly on her holster. Actually, I see Hanse has a laser pistol firmly gripped but still out of her sight and Sonya has shifted her weight to make her weapon all but instantly available. The Captain has probably not missed this, but is not giving ground.
Lt. Al-Zafirah quietly says, “My CO is Commander O'Brian. If he says he has given his word that the woman may stay with us, your choices are to fight, leave, or accept it.” Her hand has just cleared the clasp on her sidearm in an obvious statement that she will do as she must.
“Commander?” She suddenly looks at me with astonishment and asks accusingly, “YOU?! For how long? How many engagements? How many kills besides the BK?”
“Um, not long. I helped on one kill, maybe.” Before she can answer, I add, “And not the BK.”
“WHAT?! No solo 'Mechs kills?!”
“No. Only been in one real battle.”
“What do you mean?” She looks around at the rest of our survivors, “You expect me to consider an equal someone who is still wet behind the ears?”
To my surprise, they all stare back at her without indication of giving ground. Sonya's weapon is also cleared now.
Looking back at me she nearly screams, “ONE BATTLE?!”
“Hey, if you can convince them,” I gesture to the rest of our crew, “then by all means, you can have it. I DON'T want command and if we are putting the units together I'll be more than glad to give it up. Believe me, I know more than anyone how ill prepared I am.”
She looks at me like I just sprouted another head. “What?”
“They elected me. I'd rather be back in a Raven trying to learn how to run and shoot at the same time. Heck I can barely walk that BK while chewing gum. For that matter, please feel free to take that monster back.”
You would think I had just announced that I am secretly Santa Bear. Disbelief isn't strong enough a description; maybe incredulous is better.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. I got one of ours killed already,” my eyes never leave hers, but my voice, filled with self-loathing, trails off to a whisper. “If you can do even a little better, PLEASE do.”
Fatima speaks up, “Only if O'Brian will be your second. I want him to be able to learn from someone who knows command and tactics. Only if you accept that he has already granted this woman shelter and you agree to work with him to teach him to lead, will I support you. Otherwise, O'Brian will remain my commanding officer,” here she looks at me, “even if he doesn't want the job yet.”
Master Wolte agrees, “I concur with the Lieutenant's position. I suggest that we would agree to work together as a unit until we reach a hiring hall. Then you can do as you wish and we can reform ourselves to hunt the Wacos.”
Our other three are also nodding. In fact, I can just make out Commander Tetsuhara in the shadows silently agreeing as well.
Tammar's anger seems to vaporize like an ice sculpture hit by a large laser. Looking at Master Wolte, she asks, “Can you rig something for me to be able to run the BK with just my one hand?”
Master Wolte speaks up, “If I can't we have a wiring guru who can help me.”
Sonya nods.
Tammar looks at me, “You inspire a lot of loyalty, cub...” she pauses unexpectedly, then corrects herself, “no, that was disrespectful. One way or another, you have somehow earned your rank in their eyes; even if you were not a commander before, you are one now. I accept your rank and will treat you as it deserves, Commander.”
“Thank you, Ma'am,” is all I can think of to say.
She looks over at the rest and nods, “Agreed. Commander O'Brian is my XO as long as we are together and it remains your wish. I will help him learn to lead and maybe share a bit of the operational art if he can learn it.”

…..

“We need a name.” It is Anne, standing without casts for the first time since we found her under debris outside of Tornado's remains. “You five need to come up with a name. We all need it... that sense of identity.” She hesitates, then, “I mean, we are a unit now, right?”
I nod and so do a few others, Captain Urso being the notable exception.
“Captain?” Nanako seems interested in her opinion.
I don't think the Captain is going to say anything. She looks around at all of us, and I realize we are all looking back. “Return of the Fallen, our logo is a simple white phoenix. We paint the 'Mechs all black like yours, but with white median trim made up of the names of all of our fallen... at least those we know of... interspersed with the white phoenix.” She looks at me, she is watching for something, I don't know what.
In the mean time, I admit, “I rather like it. Make sense to the rest of you?”
With a hint of disappointment, the Captain speaks up quickly, “this is not a democracy. We are now the Return of the Fallen. Our logo is a white phoenix. Our 'Mechs will be black with white trim. Do all of you understand?”
Our people all look at me. Is my opinion important? Is our name and mark important enough to fight about? Shouldn't I support my commander no matter what as long as what she is doing isn't wrong? Clearly, I state, “Yes, Ma'am. So be it.”
I think I catch a hint of a smile there; and not only on her lips, but Lt. Al-Zafirah and Master Wolte seem to approve also.

[cmopatrick]

“So, here are the new 'Mech assignments.” Handing me a pad in an off-hand manner, Captain Urso seems ready to move on, then senses my confusion and turns. “Yes?”
The list is just five 'Mechs, but it seems designed to confuse me. In the newly modified and repaired Black Knight will be the Captain, but beyond that there are several changes that make no sense to me at all and one that she can not even order. I go into the Night Hawk, Commander Tetsuhara to the 3L, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah to the 2x, and our newly minted Lieutenant Tavares goes into the Spider.
“Captain, Lieutenant Al-Zafirah owns her 3L; she will not part with it, even for a better 'Mech. And begging your pardon, Ma'am, but wouldn't Commander Tetsuhara be better suited to the Night Hawk's capabilities? I'm not...” These last words die on my lips as I see her expression change from considering to what appears angry.
“You are my XO, you will have and become competent in my second most powerful 'Mech.”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
Her tone softens a little, “I expect you to become an able pilot. We will begin your drills in it today. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
This is so different from how Colonel Greer and Captain Howard treated me. Did we do the right thing combining our units? I guess for now I will accept and deal with it, but I sense the question beginning to plague me.
She resumes, “I did not know about the 3L. Are there special arrangements for her position in the unit that I need to know about?”
“She has made it clear several times that she was never actually part of the GZR, I guess she contracted her services to us or something like that. She controls her 'Mech, but accepted leadership from Colonel Greer and has even done so from me. Sometimes the Colonel rather seems... er... seemed to coerce her, but only rarely. The mission she and I were on when the Tornado got hit was one she had wanted to walk alone, but he made clear that he wanted another with her.” I pause, wondering how to relate the means the Colonel used, finally deciding not to mention them at all, “In the end she took me, I think it was to train me.”
“I see.” I think she is reading something in my face, I really don't know what. “I will change the orders so that Commander Tetsuhara gets the 2x, but I want you to speak with her about it. You have had that 'Mech before; tell her what she needs to know. She is used to a fairly heavy medium.”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
She is watching me, I think she knows I am not comfortable with this new arrangement. Finally, I open my mouth to ask about the move up to the Night Hawk, but close it again without saying anything more. She nods and turns, walking towards our flimsy gantry up to her waiting 'Mech.

…..

“Excuse me, Commander Tetsuhara, may I speak with you?”
“Yes, Commander?”
Unlike the Captain, Commander Tetsuhara is shorter than I am, maybe even a whole ten centimeters shorter. But as I look at her, somehow she doesn't seem shorter; she stands here with more confidence and seems taller that I have felt in a long time... or at least a few weeks.
“Um, Commander Tetsuh...”
“Please, we are equals when we speak alone like this. I would feel more comfortable if you called me Nanako when we are not before subordinates.”
“Oh. I'll try to remember.”
She smiles, flashing brilliant white rows of perfect teeth. “You wanted to speak with me?”
“Oh, um, yeah. Captain Urso wants to move our 'Mech assignments around and...”
She interrupts again, “yes, she has already told me. Fair warning, they didn't get the sinks fixed in the 2Q. Those are REALLY old sinks, most of them were stock on her from the day she walked out of the Mountain Wolf factory in 2940. Even the newer ones are just under a hundred years old. They are doubles, but only six work at full capacity and only two more seem to work at all. The others are dead weight, but the plumbing is still needed so they are left on. Oh, and she isn't stock, we couldn't find a replacement for the ERLL, so our techs rewired it to take a second Defiance B3L.”
“So it now has two large lasers and a medium pulse?”
“Yes, but be careful about your heat or you will be parked.”
“Ok.”
“Her armor is a mishmash. The manuals say you can't mix armors, but very little of the light is left on her. Mostly she has standard or FF. And watch the 210, the ceramics in the right torso got banged up a while back and she gets a little flaky when you push her past 80% output. I actually think that is what did some of the internal sinks in, but none of the techs listens to me.”
“Ok, I...”
“How is your hand? Let me see it. Good, good. We'll get the flex-cast off in four days if all goes well. How about your head? Let me see your ear. Turn more.”
“Yes, Nana...”
“Looks like the 2x has significant mods. SRM6 and Large Pulse. How does she run? Is that a scuff along the left side? See where the paint is scratched and, is that a blade of grass in the knee seam?”
“Well, yes, it's...”
“Is your gear out already? I know the Captain doesn't like it, but I try to drill with the BTCT. Have you ever seen that? It's a great way to drill and practice intangibles, and I want to have it up and running.”
Talking with Nanako is like riding a wild river in a raft without a paddle. She prattles on and my mind struggles to reconcile the scattered lines of gray in her midnight black hair with the lineless perfection her cheeks display.
“Commander.” I realize that she is now silent and focused on me.
“Yes, Ma'am?”
“While I think I should be flattered, you do understand that I am forty and your are... what...? Seventeen, maybe eighteen?”
What have I done? “Yes, Ma'am, but...”
“Your eyes wander while I am talking, please do not let that happen. What I am saying is important and I am definitely not for you.”
“I...”
Now she is back to interrupting and resumes with, “As I was saying...”

…..

“How are you doing, Chief... Lieutenant... Commander?” Sonya lets out a long sigh. She looks very tired, her eyes could close where she stands.
“Tired and sore, how about you, Ma'am?”
“Well, tired for sure. I think I’m going to like this little Spider. Did you know it can JUMP?!”
“Jix!”
“Yup, and it's as quick as your Raven.” She sees my face fall and seems suddenly ready to console. “Oh, yeah, forgot. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of the Q.”
I look over at the 'Mech and wonder.
When I look back, she continues, “You helped me.”
Suddenly, silence reigns.
Sonya is reaching for things to say, “I could wing for you, if you want.”
“I think the Captain has her own ideas about where she wants us.”
“She sure does things different. Sometimes feels like being bullied.”
“We had it too good in the GZR, makes it harder now. I'm going to give her a chance, as long as she doesn't waste any of us.”
“You know, Lisa wasn't your fault. You didn't 'waste' her.”
“Yeah.”
She reaches out and grasps my right arm just above the elbow and looks intently into me, past the facade to the hollow where recriminations have chiseled a cistern for tears... the kind that never leave... and she nods. No words, she just nods like she might actually know.

[cmopatrick]

“Watch your left twist, you are predictable,” Captain Urso commands. Kinda odd, even when she tries to speak normally, it sounds like she is ordering something or another.
I correct back and try to see where my target has gone while I dance through this battered urban landscape.
“Fire at that Locust. FIRE AT THE LOCUST! NOW!!!”
I guess there is nothing like inspiring performance anxiety. (sigh)
I finally get the reticule back onto the speedy locust and press the alpha trigger. The larges reach out and cut bright scars across it as it tries to reach cover. The pulse might kills flies or mosquitoes, but the Locust was out of range to begin with and all I gain is heat.
“DO YOU NOT SEE THE LOCUST?!”
I want to snap back that I just hit it, but manage somehow to bite my tongue, fire the large lasers again, and watch satisfied as they eat a hole in the Locust's right torso armor. Suddenly Naomi announces a shutdown and the whole contraption sags forward while the controls blink off..
“You ID-IOT!” the Captain all but screams.
Wow, this sure is culture shock.
“Captain, I...”
Naomi announces, “Simulation has ended.”
“Captain?”
“You moron. Alright, you get your wish; get out of that 'Mech, you are now piloting the 2x.”
“Yes, Ma'am. May I...”
“No.”
“Well, would you be so kind as to explain what I was supposed to learn there?”
Silence.
“Captain Urso?”
Silence.
Great. Well that was an experience while it lasted. I pull the BTCT chip and the few things I had already added to the cockpit and pop the back hatch. Maybe once I’m back in the 2x, I should just pull up “Dancing in the Street” again and work on not getting hit.

…..

“She got to you, didn't she?” Master Wolte queries, his demeanor perhaps suggesting that I have again disappointed him.
“Well, the anger stuff is pretty different.”
“Did you quit, or did she kick you out?”
“I get to go back to the 2x and Commander Tetsuhara moves up to the 2Q.”
“Did she tell you why?”
I think some pain comes out in my voice, “no. I tried to ask. I want to learn, but this is like sleeping with an avalanche...”
“Take it easy. She isn't used to even dealing with what you represent.”
“What is that?”
“Inexperience. Youth.”
“What should I do?”
“Move your gear to the 2x as ordered. Be ready to do the best you can and learn everything you can so you can do even better.”
I nod, “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for taking the time, Master Wolte.”
“Hanse.”
“Hanse.”

…..

An alarm starts and there is a red light or lights flashing down at the south end of the cavern. For a moment, none of us do more than look that way, each expecting someone else to know what is going on, then Fairuz jumps to her feet and runs. Yes, it is her six-by that is performing the light-show.
I think she has the loudspeaker on; that or she is suddenly VERY loud, “Captain and Commanders? You might want to hear this.”
I manage to beat the other two to her vehicle.
She turns on her pa speakers and quickly drops the volume. A female voice says, “There are four 'Mechs actually standing in town across from your father's dealership. Big ones. And my mom says they had a dozen more that split at South Junction. I haven't gotten close enough to hear any of them talk, but Bobby says they are some kind of rangers.”
There is the faint sound of someone talking off mic, then, “Mom says it might be important that the 'Mechs all have a big red, blue, and white five-point star. Hope that helps.”
“When did this come in? Nanako asks.
“About five minutes ago.” Fairuz shakes her head and looks worried. “there is no law to protect the people against sixteen 'Mechs. Their presence even without a threat will be enough, someone will talk.”
Captain Urso strides away, back towards our encampment proper.

…..

“Listen up. We all need to be ready to move out in no more than 1 hour, a half hour would be better. The unit that killed both our teams is coming with almost four to one odds. We can not defeat them with only three experienced pilots. We need to move quickly. Any ideas?”
“I have lived on this planet all my life; I have lots of ideas,” Fairuz answers.
“I have our maps and can help, too.”
“Ok, you two and you,” here she points at me, “follow me. The rest of you get everything ready to go. This is important, people! Let's go, NOW!”
We all move quickly and I almost think she smiles. Nah, couldn't have been.

…..

Ensign Mark's map table is set up and working in the bus. He pulls up a ten meter on us, then slides us down and away to look further north.
Fairuz stops him, “Here. There is a cave behind Ziggurat Falls...”
“Big enough for the BK?” Captain Urso queries.
“Oh, no, probably not. Sorry.”
“It's Ok, it was a good idea.”
Who is this? And where was she when I was trying to learn the Night Hawk?
“How about this as a temporary while we take some time to look for something better?”
“And 'this' is...?”
“It looks like an old town. No vehicles on the streets, at least not on this pull. These...” here he points to large rectangular blocks, “look like hangars or old manufacturing facilities. Even if we can't get the Black Knight under shelter, we can probably camouflage it enough to keep it from being found by sats while we look for better. Further, it looks like we can get there by good paved roads. No more than four hours at fifty, maybe faster if we can go full out.”
“That's the old terra-former's village,” Fairuz says thoughtfully. “I bet they did have something that would hold the big 'Mech.”
The Captain rolls her eyes and snorts, “It is a Black Knight BL-6b-KNT. Please use the correct name.”
Fairuz looks like she has been slapped. She steps back, clearly offended; then moves a bit behind me, as if for protection.
Captain Urso looks from her to me and back. Once again, she defies my expectations, “I am sorry I spoke to you that way, Ms. Abboud. I myself have no doubt called it a BK or a 6b or something else similar, it is unfair for me to expect more from you than I am willing to do myself.”
Fairuz rather quietly replies, “Thanks.”
The Captain looks back at me and asks, “does this course of action make sense to you, Number One?”
While I’m not sure, I suspect that the 'Number One' is a way of referring to her XO. I answer, “Makes good sense to me, Ma'am. Shall we go after it?”
She nods, “Yes, see to your readiness, we walk in twenty.”

Edited by cmopatrick, 26 February 2013 - 09:54 PM.

[cmopatrick]

“Pilots to me! Quickly!” Captain Urso calls out. She is standing with Fairuz Abboud at the foot of the Black Knight.
We all move rather rapidly to her; I wonder what is up?
“Ms. Abboud just got a signal that the Wacos are moving out on our side of Terrino. We need to establish battle structure. I want us to move as a lance with a solo scout out on her own. Lieutenant Al-Zafirah, are you willing to recon and track our opponent? I especially want early warning if they are overtaking us. Will you do that?”
“Yes, Ma'am.” Fatima's smile is a klick wide, “I would be glad to.”
“Good. Next, Number One, are you willing to run wing for Commander Tetsuhara today? I want you to understand it is not a demotion, but rather a chance for you to learn by watching her. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes, Ma'am,” I reply. It feels kinda good to be asked. Even better to be treated like the XO in front of others.
“Lieutenant Tavares, I would like you to try to run on my wing.” I can see Sonya's expression start to reflect fear, but the Captain is ahead of me, “Lieutenant, I don't need you to worry about the role or even shooting at anything. I just want you to run on whichever side I ask for, positioned fifty to ninety meters out and a little behind. I know you can do this. You with me?”
Sonya nods and seems to brighten... at least a little.
“Commander,” she is now looking at Nanako, “I need you to be yourself, but understand the roles are a little different.”
“I got your back, Captain.”
“Ok, I'll pulse for sequence once we are all settled. I will then set up a sub for you, Sonya, so we can talk between ourselves. You two should do the same, Ok? That said, unless we get into combat I want radio silence; emergencies excepted, then only what we need to say.”
Everyone nods.
“One more thing, when we walk out, we are going to take the 'Mechs out under as much cover as possible and swing back towards the mine shaft Commander Tetsuhara and I had been holed up in. Move single file until we are there. I'll flash my running lights once we are there, and I want us to move to a standard lance formation, two by two with our wings slightly wider than we are.”
Sonya glances my way. “You'll do fine,” I tell her.
“Any questions?”
We all shake our heads “no.”
The captain waves her arms outward. “To your 'Mechs!”

…..

I'm strapped in and my 2x is all checked out. I still have the weapons on safe, but otherwise, I'm as combat ready as I will be.
Captain Urso sent the vehicles ahead of us, the bus left by itself ten minutes ago and Fairuz' six-by, the duce and a half, and the Land Train with it's lowboy went together a scant five back. I did notice that the bus has been repainted white to make it more visible and the camouflage tarp on the lowboy has been changed to something that looks like a bright blue. I think the description of this whole tactic is “hiding in plain sight” though I guess it seems rather foolhardy to me.
Fatima ran her 3L out just a few minutes ago, headed down the shortest route back towards Terrino. The rest of our 'Mechs are ready to walk. I do wonder about the swing back towards the mine shaft where she and Commander Tetsuhara had been hiding. She hasn't said why, but I wonder if she wants to distance ourselves from the vehicles, so that anyone seeing us and backtracking will wind up in a different place from where the vehicles left.

…..

Single file, keeping close to cliffs where they exist and under trees when there are none, we are walking towards the mine.
Upon reaching the dark opening, we gather together and only then move out into the open on a Northbound road. I guess this is a typical lance formation, leads side-by-side and wings about the same with just a bit more space between us. Captain Urso is on the right, Lieutenant Tavares further right, and Commander Tetsuhara left of center. We accelerate to full walking speed for the Black Knight and everything seems fine.

…..

Our first hint that something could be wrong comes about an hour out when a the fairly strong comm signal starts almost directly overhead. It is sequenced, but the origin is clearly not where we had expected one.
“I got red dots.” Sonya, not really familiar with the sensors has been looking upwards. We all follow suit and are rewarded with four tiny flametraces almost directly above us. I'm about to comment on radio silence, but wonder if the Captain hasn't already done so and decide against it.
The Black Knight is running now, the thunder of it's steps on the concrete roadway leaving small compressions and kicking up pulverized pavement dust.
I pull up my Battlemap. We have roadway for many klicks, with low hills and what might once have been attempts at cultivated fields scattered among them. Nothing jumps out at me as a place to hide.
Back to reality and I see that I’m not paying enough attention; the BK has begun to drift right and Sonya's Spider is striding along with her. The Night Hawk, however, has accelerated while drifting left to where I'm almost behind her. I pick up my pace and change course enough to regain my position.
We seem to be angling towards an old structure, maybe a barn or something similar. I dare not bring up the map for fear I will miss some other change and wind up in the wrong place or worse.
The comms crackle to life on our sequence, “Four lances have changed course for your probable location and are moving with all speed.” It is Lieutenant Al-Zafirah. “At least one 3L included in light Striker lance. No air spotted, but likely en route also. They are not responding to attempts to distract. Breaking off and making best possible shadow for main group. Will advise.”
We reach the barn and grain silos, slowing and swinging around behind them.
“Face out, ready to run around that side for an attack,” Nanako says on our sub. “When the Captain says 'Now!' accelerate and swing around for my flank. She will give us a threat order, target all fire on the next threat.”
I move as instructed and reply, “Got it. Ready.”
My heart is racing. I wonder what this daylight fight will be like and hope I don't let everyone down.
“Arcing now.” Sounds like the Captain. “I have three on the ground, no, four. Threat sequence is...” there is a long pregnant pause, then, “Hussar, Commando, Mongoose, and Mercury. Combine attacks... NOW!”
Throttle up! My 2x accelerates, turns, and I'm sprinting out from behind cover.