Topic: Contract 3 - Rumblings from the Deep Periphery (Kingdom of Nibo Main Contract) (Read 20690 times)

Vampire · « **on:** September 26, 2011, 06:01:12 AM »

Horizon's Light
Star League Defense Force Bastion Class System-Defense Station
Orbit of Gaylin Systems
Deep Periphery
3rd March 2784

Major Gregory Allson massaged the temples of his balding scalp in vain attempts to sooth away the throbbing headache that had haunted him for the last month. Since the various so called Star Lords of the various Houses officially dissolved the High Council in August of 2781, each had left Terra for home and began to build his own power base.

While General Kerensky had been stripped of his title as Protector of the Realm, and ordered to disperse all SLDF units to their peacetime location, a still sizable number of units had held on to their positions - like Allson and his security detail here in the Deep Periphery system of Gaylin. The system itself would be of nothing of importance at all if its climate did not saw it settled as an agrarian world. A starting colony of about a few tens of thousands quickly exploded to over five million with the more than conducive environment to... procreate. The discovery of an abundance of Palladium on the nearby system further swelled the population on Gaylin. Simply named Mining System Alpha Forty Four, the system itself was uninhabitable. Conditions on the planet allowed for nothing more than the setting up of an extensive mining village that could cater to a small population of a few hundred. Most of the work force had to be rotated from Gaylin - such were conditions within the mines. If not for the fact that Palladium was a critical, not to mention extremely lucrative component for the manufacturing of jump sails that charged Kearny-Fuchida drives that allowed massive star ships to traverse and move between the stars and the universe, no one in their right frame of minds would risk their lives mining it.

In addition to the mining world and Gaylin, a small monastic enclave had been set up in the smallest system around the area by some monks who had fled the increasing tension in the Draconis Combine. From what Allson knew of them, they abstained from women, meat, alcohol and technology. Upon arriving on the world, they had ordered the DropShip who had sent them there away. Why even flee from the fighting when you're as good as dead men walking? Allson had mused.

As if all the bickering among those thrice cursed Lords were not enough of a trouble, the recent outbreak of some sort of plague on Gaylin itself had given Allson even more to worry about. No one knew when it started, or how. What was known was that a few weeks ago, one of the many farming townships suddenly stopped communicating with its nearby trading partners. Fearing that some bandit group had somehow evaded Allson's small but still potent defense forces, Allson had dispatched a small group of soldiers to the location. What they found were worse than any pirate activity - the entire township had been struck down by some sort of flesh eating disease.

An immediate quarantine around the township was ordered. With the Inner Sphere caught up in chaos, there was no way medical assistance could be called for, and neither the medical team on board the Horizon's Light, a Bastion Class System-Defense Station, nor the doctors on Gaylin had any way to deal with it. Despite the best efforts of Allson and his people, reports soon came in of plague occurring in other parts of the system. That was when the nightmares began.

The small workforce on Mining System Forty Four were forcibly confined to their quarters, while a quarantine was imposed on the entire Gaylin System. A few wealthier citizens defied orders and loaded onto the few DropShips on the system. After repeated warnings to turn back were ignored, Allson had no choice but to order their destruction.

Absolute anarchy swept across Gaylin. Villages and towns were razed as each accused the other of being responsible for the plague. A few pockets of walled population appeared overnight, where the healthy thought to wall themselves away from the disease. Allson wept as the once peaceful agricultural world become one of pure hell. The platoon of soldiers who were sent down to establish order before the chaos became uncontrollable were never heard of again, their last transmission being one of panic that reported of them being surrounded by crazed citizens who blamed Allson and his people for not doing more sooner, and ultimately condemning the Gaylin population all to hell.

Gaylin Systems
Deep Periphery
18th November of 2784

Allson cast another look at the planet below him from the viewing gallery of the Horizon's Light. Things had deteriorated even further than Allson thought possible. Is this what true anarchy is? Allson asked himself for the umpteenth time.

The once green pastures that covered over eighty percent of the Gaylin system were nearly all gone, replaced by blazing infernos, or the black and scorched remains of former agricultural lands. Towns and villages were nothing more than strewn rubble - mostly vacated with the occupants either long fled, or succumbing to the plague.

The mining system was but only better in comparison. With a smaller population to start with, panic had gripped their hearts as news somehow trickled to them about what was happening back on Gaylin. Only the barely breathable atmosphere that impeded the same widespread inter fighting on Gaylin itself prevented a repeat of what was happening on the planet. Still, fighting DID occur amongst the small group of populace on Mining System Forty Four. The mining colony wiped itself out within a month. His people had reported that the control tower of the Mining colony had continued to send out calls for help - even a week after the last known survivors on the world had perished. The SLDF Major had refused orders to obliterate the control tower. After all, they might return to the system in time. Any resources preserved would be resources they could make use of later.

About the only faction untouched by the plague raging below, other than Allson and his small group of subordinates, were the monks in the enclave on the unnamed system. However, Allson knew from orbital scans that they were finding it difficult to cultivate the harsh arid planet. Cut off from the rest of the universe, and lacking any female members... Would they survive beyond those lunatics on Gaylin? Allson sighed. The doors to the viewing gallery opened as one of his Lieutenants walked up behind him. "We are ready to depart Sir."

Would any one of us survive?

On 14 February 2784, General Kerensky proposed to his troops that the SLDF should leave the Inner Sphere and found a new society beyond known space, basing that society on the dearly held ideals of the Star League. After a long debate with his people, Allson had decided to join the General in his Operation Exodus. As would more than eighty percent of the Star League Defense Force.

"Have the plague beacons been placed into orbit around Gaylin?" Allson asked softly.

"They have." The Lieutenant replied quickly. He hesitated again, before asking. "Sir, since we're leaving, and those people below would most likely kill off themselves within months, if not weeks... why even bother?"

Allson turned around and looked at the young officer. The latter straightened himself abruptly, grimacing and bracing himself for whatever tirade his superior officer might hurl at him. Allson's eyes softened as he sighed. "Because of the very same reason we are leaving with General Kerensky, Allen. The Inner Sphere may not want our services nor protection any longer, but that does not relinquish us of the duties we owe to its people. It is an oath you and I, as did all the officers in the SLDF took."

Allson smiled wryly at the young man. "Go inform the others, we will depart as soon as the self destruct mechanisms are activated."

The Lieutenant nodded. "Yes Sir!" He saluted the Major before turning to head back out to the corridors of the about to be destroyed Space Station.

Allson turned and looked down on Gaylin once again. Would the departure of the SLDF see the degeneration of the Inner Sphere into what was being played out on Gaylin right now? The Star League Defense Force Major clenched his fists to his sides tightly. No! It will not! More than anything, the human race had always adapted to the environment. The Inner Sphere and the Periphery might fracture, but they will never be destroyed. They would never die out, but chaos and a huge step back in technology and civilization as they were known now might very well occur.

Allson turned from the dying planet below him and headed towards the waiting DropShip docked at the Space Station. A fully charged JumpShip further hung in the vacuum of space near the Horizon's Light to bring the crew of Bastion Class Space Station to join their brethren under the leadership of General Kerensky, where they will leave the known universe, swearing to return one day. And we will be back as the saviours of mankind in the years to come. The doors behind Allson closed with a low solid thump. Whether they want it or not.

30km south from New Moscow, Ufa
Tikonov
Federated Suns
18th December 3078
2245 Hours

Dimitri Polanski peered suspiciously through the smoke and fire at the huge shadow in the distance. Mike's Mechanized Marauders had been part of the native Tikonov mercenaries that had invaded their home planet to rid their world of the Federated Suns occupants. Other sons and daughters from the system that had returned included the mercenary outfits Leon's Liberators, Arthur's Asteroids and the elite Charleston's Crusaders. The green Republican Guards regiments had no real stomach for a fight against veteran outfits such as them. But the Death's Guards had been a completely different matter. With a reputation of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, their continued survival had been attributed to their doggedness in defence and fighting skills. A single reinforced battalion strong, they had managed to stem the tide of the Tikonov originated mercenaries nearly by themselves.

The target they were approaching was one such case. Cut off from its BattleMech brethren, a lance of super heavy tanks had smashed their way through an advance line held by the Liberators with seeming consummate ease. Despite destroying a pair of heavy autocannon armed Demolishers, the Liberators had lost seven of their own numbers - three of these medium tanks, and a full lance of BattleMechs. The surviving Death's Guards tanks had bulldozed their way pass the scattering Liberators and made for the city of New Moscow. Luck run out for them when a heavy 'Mech lance supported by a company equally heavy tanks including Polanski within their ranks caught up with the slow moving tanks just on the outskirts of New Moscow city.

Even against these massive and insurmountable odds, the Death's Guards had fought on. A single gauss rifle round from the tanks at range had smashed straight into the cockpit of a Maelstrom, killing the pilot instantly and toppling the war machine. The rest of the Marauders had poured their fire into the pair of Guards tanks. The Ontos was the next to be destroyed, its long range missile ammunition long exhausted, and its lasers unable to do much against opponents that kept at range.

The remaining Manteuffel attack tank was an entirely different preposition, however. Its terrifying arsenal of turret mounted rotary canon and extended range medium lasers spat death and destruction, taking out tank after tank from the Marauders' ranks. A lighter and faster Sha Yu that tried to close in was reminded too late that unlike most heavy tanks, the seventy ton monstrosity of a main battle tank could alpha strike with its full load out of weapons each and every time without heat problems. Despite inflicting considerable damage to the Primary configured Manteuffel, a single return salvo from the Guards tank crippled the bird like medium 'Mech. To the horror of the remaining Marauders, the tank rolled itself over the forty ton BattleMech, crushing it and the Mechjock in it like a paper cup. Another salvo from its turret mounted weapons destroyed a Bulldog tank, blasting its turret from the body and opened up an avenue of escape. The Manteuffel retreated into the urban landscape of the capital of Tikonov.

A deadly cat and mouse game ensued as the Marauders closed in behind the retreating tank. Evening turned to dusk, as the mixed force of Marauders hunted the solitary Death's Guards machine. A second 'Mech, a fifty five ton Eyleuka was ambushed by the low slung Manteuffel that had concealed itself in the basement of a building. Two more Marauder tanks were crippled before Polanski and his comrades finally cornered the war machine that had dealt them so much death in a dead end alley.

Things than turned deadly quiet. The Manteuffel assault tank stopped in its tracks, its turret facing one of the walls, and became silent.

"You think the crew is surrendering?" One of the Marauders tank commanders asked.

"I don't know, and I don't care." Another Marauder replied. "Let's just blast the bastard to pieces."

"Hold your fire. If itâ€™s out, I want that god damned Manteuffel. It has proved itself to be one heck of a fighting machine." Captain Matthew Covacks order. "Rogers, Polanski, dismount with your crew and check it out."

Polanski cursed under his breath as the crew of his Brutus as well as those from a Marauder Manticore slithered from their heavily damaged tanks and made cautious way towards the unmoving enemy machine. The crossed the broken tarmac and concrete road littered with strewn debris before climbing gingerly onto the silent main battle tank. Polanski and his crew steadied their side arms and nodded to Rogers and the tank commander of the Manticore and his gunner slowly pried open the turret hatch of the tank.

What they saw inside would hound them till their deaths. The two turret gunners had been burnt to death alive. Their burnt away lips peeled back in silent shrieks of agony. Their eyes had been charred black in their sockets, with none of their exposed skin intact. However, the seats they were on showed no signs of being torched or burned. Below them, the radio man was minus his lower jaw that seemed to have been ripped forcibly from his face. From where the mouth used to be, his throat had been slashed open right down to his chest. Who ever had been the driver would be difficult to identify - an open wound, similar to those inflicted by a shotgun at point black range, had been punched from the back of his head straight through to where a face should be. The remains were splattered all across the driving console of the tank.

The tank commander sat on the commander seat of the tank amidst all the carnage, his uniform in incredible pristine condition. None of the blood or gore stained his fighting dress. His hair was combed back, and his body ramrod straight. A heavy chain dangled by his neck, with a cross like medallion hanging down. He looked at the two Marauder soldiers looking down in horror, and smiled. Reaching to his belt, he drew out a combat knife from his boots. Grisly smile still locked on his face, the tank commander stabbed the knife into his neck, and slowly pulled it across from one side to the other. The smile never faded from his face, nor did his glassy empty eyes bat once.

Mike's Mechanized Maruaders Field HQ
Outskirts of New Moscow
Tikonov
Federated Suns
27th December 3078
1000 Hours

"What do you mean none of the crew could be found?!" Captain Matthew Covacks fumed as Rogers reported in.

"Technically, that's wrong." The tanker swallowed hard once. "We found what SHOULD be their remains..."

Covacks raised an eyebrow.

"They're dead Cap." Rogers replied to the unasked question. "All of them."

"Killed by the enemy?" Covacks asked. "I haven't heard of any reports of..."

"No Cap." Rogers faced paled. "They were found dead in the tank... in what seemed to be mass suicide."

"Suicide?! Nonsense!" The Marauders Captain exclaimed. "We're blooding winning this war. What reason have they to..."

"I don't know." Rogers wiped his brows with a shaking hand. "We found them with their throats sliced open by their own knifes, or a bullet in between their eyes. No one knew why they're in the Manteuffel in the first place. They were not even supposed to be on duty."

Both men were at a lost for words. "Any other clues." Covack finally broke the uneasy silence.

"We found this on Polanski's body." Rogers threw a dirty brown manila envelope onto Covacks' table. "I think we took it from the bodies of Death's Guards tank commander who crewed the tank after we captured it."

Covacks opened the flap on the envelop and emptied the contents onto his palm. For an instant when it touched his skin, it felt like the metallic item had punched a hole in his palm. The Marauders Captain dropped it immediately back on his table. A thick silvery chain spilled out. A single cross with arrow heads at the four ends, and the southern tip double the length of the other sides was linked to the chain. It took a while for Covacks to notice the engravings on the medallion.

"What the hell is that." He murmured. It wrote simple - "Ð¨Ð¸Ð·Ð°Ñ€Ð¸ÑƒÐ¼". Covacks turned to Rogers. "What does it mean."

"Before he died, Polanski told me it meant Sanitarium in Russian. Sure as hell don't know what it translates into though." His subordinate shook his head. "And I'm not sure I want to find out."

Covacks stared at the medallion and stayed quiet for a long while. "Junk that Manteuffel." He instructed. Rogers nodded. "And get rid of this thing." Covacks finished, eyes on the silver chain and medallion.

Nibo City, Kingdom of Nibo
Nibo IV
3rd August 3079
0615 hours local time

Major Emma Katz stretched expansively as the first silver of sunlight pierce through the thin curtains to her room. She barely noticed the naked boy snoring at the foot of her, nor a much larger and older man laying beside her. They were simply playthings to her, something to waste time away. Time she had previously devoted to King Marcus Collins I. Despite what many said about her and the former monarch of the Kingdom, Emma HAD in fact had a real relationship with the King who was thirty years her senior. It was not the kind of puppy love, nor girlish romance the holovids portrayed. Yet, there had been a true... understanding between the two of them. She was his soul mate, and him hers. It was with near motherly pride when Crown Prince Marcus Collins II oversaw the successful defense of the Kingdom from those dogs hired by Quikscell to ravage their home. It had proved to be a most costly victory, but it was far from pyrrhic.

The small Kingdom of Nibo had proven to the universe that it could defend itself â€“ and more importantly, that its products WORKED. Orders had since poured in for the previously little thought of Nibo Star tank, whilst the quirky but ingenious engineering teams over the Nibo University and Nibo Heavy Industries had successfully won design competitions to provide the Federated Suns with Sword/ Mussa heavy OmniFighters, and their traditional enemies, the Capellan Confederation with their massive Behemolisher series of assault tanks.

The death of the old King hit Emma more than anyone on the small Deep Periphery kingdom. More than the whores that frequented his bed chamber, more than the so-called merchants who depended on his good grace to conduct all manners of business in and out of Nibo, even more than the now King Marcus Collins II. Like herself, the former Crown Prince had been seen by many both in and out of the Kingdom as a spoiled brat born into the right place at the right time. Emma had thought otherwise when she first looked into the boyâ€™s eyes. It might have been due to these talks, or it might not. Regardless, after several false starts and numerous costly and painful (to others) mistakes, the young man had finally stood on his own when the moment called for it. Not least his silly fascination with riding into battle in tanks. It was not that Emma looked down on the back bone of Nibo Armed Forces. It was just that the future ruler of the Kingdom should be better armed and equipped - and protected.

And now, the new King had once again taken a step his father would not have. After repeated requests and bemoaning from the Nibo University about the endless possibilities the faint transmissions from a nearby cluster of uninhabited systems could bring, King Marcus Collins II had authorized the an expedition consisting of a cargo freighter DropShip escorted by a pair of Centurion aerospace fighters to bring those researchers to where they want to. Two platoons of foot soldiers further provided on ground body guard security.

Emma smiled. If the search yielded nothing, the King would recoup the costs by slashing the University budgets. If it did come up with something of note, he would be proclaimed a visionary. Either ways, the boy would win.

Emma looked at the pair of naked men behind here again before she opened the door to her chambers. The pair of guards outside snapped to immediate attention.

â€œGet those two out of here.â€ She ordered. Maybe I should accompany the expedition myself. The Second In Command of the Nibo Armed Forces mused. Things had settled rather nicely in the little Deep Periphery world â€“ and that meant that things had gotten boring for her around here recently.

October 7th, 3079
1152 hours, Local time
Commercial Ward
Alice Springs Castle Brian Complex
Central Australia, Terra
Star League

â€œCaecilius Jarred Harding, of the Black Stars?â€

Both Reed and Harding turned around from the little martial arts demonstration they have been watching â€“ one which Reed thought to be woefully inadequate for use by warriors â€“ and looked at the woman who just addressed Harding by his full name â€“ Something that next to nobody does. Harding managed a quick appreciative glance at the woman, tall, rather on the pretty side, even if she looks like she could eat two MechWarriors for breakfast, but the thing that caught his attention the most was the little girl â€“ got to be three years old at most â€“ that stands at a near-perfect military posture next to the woman. Incidentally, the woman herself does not look like she knows how to be at ease to begin with.

â€œAnd who might ya be, lass?â€

â€œI am Aina. I am told that you could be found in this sector during the day. I believe my application should have reached you.â€

â€œOh, the new recruit, eh?â€ From the back of his mind, Harding tried to recall some of the things from the womanâ€™s application form. Sheâ€™s a Clanner, that much is clear, although he didnâ€™t remember, and didnâ€™t exactly care from which clan she came from. That makes the little girl she carried around â€“ her daughter perhaps? They resemble each other â€“ a more unusual thing. HE knows many former Clanners have adopted Inner Sphere culture, but this oneâ€¦ still seems a bit more of a hard-liner on that issue. Just at that time, the martial artist putting up a demonstration â€“ members of some outfit called the howling something or other â€“ called out to the crowd asking if anyone else fancies themselves a true warrior. Definitely let the wins get up to his head, that one.

â€œDid that man just claim himself to be the only one that is worth calling a warrior here?â€ Came the sudden question from Aina.

Before Reed could reply (Or go into the ring and beat the man up), Harding held him back, and with some mischief in his eyes, turned back to Aina. â€œThink so, sister. Mind showing us a bit of what ya got?â€

â€œDiana, wait here and watch carefully.â€ She said as she walks towards the ring.

â€œAff.â€ Replied the child, which elicited a raised eyebrow from Harding. The Clanners sure start their indoctrination early.

~ Thirty seconds later ~

*CRACK*

â€œThatâ€™s gotta hurt.â€ Commented Harding while wincing sympathetically.

â€œAff. I believed she just rendered him incapable of passing his genes any further.â€ Replied Reed, sharing Hardingâ€™s wince. Neither of them would want to trade places with the poor braggart who opened his mouth too much in the presence of the wrong people, and is now kneeling on the ring, with his face nearly turning purple and his hands clutching his nether region, where Aina forcefully drove her knee into just moments ago. Some of the men in the crowd unconsciously covered their nether regions in an almost reflexive reaction upon the sight.

â€œI think sheâ€™d fit in well enoughâ€¦ maybe.â€

1821 hours, Local time
Commercial Ward
Alice Springs Castle Brian Complex

The atmosphere of the La Spezia Italian restaurant has been tailored to provide their diners with a pleasant dining experience, from the holovid-screen walls that made the diners feel like theyâ€™re enjoying their meals amidst the watery canals of Venice, to the soft, classical musing vaguely playing in the background. Most of the aesthetics were lost to Aina though, being a Trueborn warrior of clan Jade Falcon, she felt that most of the arrangements were no more than a waste of resources. One thing she will admit is that the food they serve â€“ she could not pronounce its name properly â€“ is good.

Earlier in the day Harding and she has went through discussions regarding her signing up with the black stars, where the main issue was the fact that she is signing on without any hardware in tow. Harding had suggested that she show what she can do with a Mech, taking her over to the simulator pods and having Reed, who she immediately recognized as a Fire Mandrill from his tattoos, act as her opponent. Both of them chose their Mechs and engaged on a mutually agreed on random battlefield, which to Reedâ€™s bad luck, happens to be a city. Reed was good, but a Hellbringer in the Prime configuration is simply no match for a Stormcrow B in the close-quarters fights that is common in a city.

Harding was kind enough to agree letting Aina sign on the stars, and even loan her one of his sub-unitâ€™s Mechs, a 35-ton TLN-5W Talon for the duration of the next contract (for a collateral and some cuts from what she earns during the contract itself), and had suggested that they discuss the details over dinner. Which brought the four of them (little Diana included) to the Italian restaurant.

â€œThat should be it, then, since you ainâ€™t got any objections. Youâ€™d best catch a DropShip within the week though. Zhao ought to be leaving the Periphery in a couple of months.â€

â€œYou said that they had planned to stop a Tancredi IV on the way back, quiaff?â€

â€œYep. Ought to be able to catch up with them boys there. Ten-bears would probably give you the usual â€œfamilyâ€ talk when you get aboard, but I think you got the gist of it already. Just make sure you donâ€™t cross the Stars, girlie, and all oughta be fine nâ€™ dandy.â€

â€œAre you implying that I would breach my word?â€

â€œNah, jusâ€™ giving you the usual talk. We got simple rules, is all. You donâ€™t leave other Stars behind, and you donâ€™t betray the Stars. Just making sure you know. Not that you Clanners need to be told not to do so thoughâ€¦â€

â€œFine.â€ Said Aina, finishing her meal and pushing away the empty plate. â€œIn that case I would have to arrange for the travel. Good evening.â€

After Aina has left the restaurant, Reed turned to Harding, with one of his eyebrows raised. â€œDid the Captain not warn you not to cheat money off other Black Stars?â€ Harding has asked for some â€œRecruitment feesâ€ and â€œMiscellaneous expensesâ€ off Aina before she signed the contract.

â€œHey, if youâ€™d pay attention, I did that before she signed the contract. Ergo, she was not a Star at that time. I followed the Capâ€™s orders to the letter, didnâ€™t I?â€ Replied Harding with a smirk.

Reed just shook his head in disbelief at his companion.

December 3rd, 3079
19:00 hours
BA Bays on board the dropship Event Horizon
Enroute to Tancredi IV
Periphery Space

James stood in the cavernous bay of the drop ship Event Horizon. Staring at the eight gleaming suits of ferro-steel. The suits represented the next piece of Trouble Inc. He already knew he had an Air Force. The next question was, which was the most logical way to go for expansion? Did he want to expand into the aerospace arena? Or did he want to go into another area?

He didnâ€™t know much about the aerospace arena, except things moved a lot faster. He would have to rely on the pilots that he would have to hire to know about what was happening, and if things are running well. James didnâ€™t quite like that feeling. Of course, the Black Stars would need an aerospace arm in the not-too-distant future. But he didnâ€™t think it would be required of him right now. Though it was something he would have to continue to look at and learn more about.

James knew he really didnâ€™t want to get into BattleMechs. BattleMechs always had big targets painted on them. Everybody was gunning for a BattleMech including himself.

That basically left only two areas left armour and infantry. Both have their own unique set of problems and issues as well as their advantages. So, what he needed to do was to figure out which one suited him better.

He had been reviewing the reports for over a month now along with his unitâ€™s history. That and anything he could glean off the net, concerning any other units that used attack copters. Through this research he found one basic common thread. That unless they were doing strictly combat missions or raids. That they were all being used to support infantry air lifts.

And that was the key, infantry air lifts. He took that key and compared it again to what he had already been doing so far with the Black Stars. He had taken infantry and techs along on a compound raid on Novo Franklin. He had also taken two platoons of infantry along against the supply depot at Blut Garten Village.

He had had to take so many of them, simply because they were infantry and they were fragile. That and he needed people to move freight. Now if they had had sturdier infantry he wouldnâ€™t have needed to take quite so many with him. He also wouldnâ€™t have to rely on the Black Star infantry. The Black Stars infantry in truest form, were there to fill many roles including the Black Stars base defense. There would come a time when those two platoons of infantry would not be enough to fill all the roles that would be required and that would be the critical hole that would need to be filled. So it looked like infantry was what he needed.

There was basic infantry, there was heavy armoured infantry and then there was powered infantry including battle armour. Powered infantry was what he was staring at in the hold. The power infantry werenâ€™t anywhere near as fragile as traditional infantry, and they carried the same or better weaponry. That would give them better staying power on the battlefield or wherever they may be employed.

When the Black Stars had exacted their chop from the Silver Sabres, James had had a chance to review all the technical specs on the equipment and what he found in amongst all of the gear they carried was some battle armour. The most interesting was four of the suits that were standing in front of him. They were called Fa Shih. According to what he had read so far, they werenâ€™t really much different from any of the others except they had magnetic clamps on their arms and legs. This allowed them to ride on vehicles and Mechs that were not equipped to carry battle armour. The Black Stars would be very lucky to find anything that would be called an Omni-vehicle or Mech that would already be capable of carrying these things normally. If they could ride on anything, then that meant the entire Black Stars unit could be the transportation for them as well as his own helicopters.

He had heard of a story or two of a few industrious people were trying to deploy them in unique fashions including air deploying. This interested James very much. Air deploying made a lot of sense. And with their jump jets. It wouldnâ€™t require him to land a hot LZ to drop them off. Especially since all the Ferrets that he had didnâ€™t have armour. This would help them to greatly reduce potential casualties to his ferrets. He wouldnâ€™t have to risk them doing things they werenâ€™t really equipped to do.

The other four suits standing beside them, were very interesting as well. James had never seen quadruped battle armour before. These Rottweilers were very quick. Capable of reaching speeds up to 45 kph sustained, according to the technical specs he had in front of him. They could run down any other type of infantry unit. They would also stand a decent chance of catching any kind of assault or heavy tanks as well. Their lasers and incendiary needlers could wreak considerable damage. He had seen them in the hold of the Sabres Mule class dropship. He knew he had to try, so he put in a request for those and space it had been granted.

James shifted over to the next day in the cargo hold in there before him was another eight suits of ferro steel. These didnâ€™t even look remotely humanoid, even though they were on two legs. He had often heard of a Saladin hovercraft being called a flying brick. Apparently the Kanazuchi are the equivalent of the walking brick. These also had been part of the chop that heâ€™d received. He wouldnâ€™t be able to use these in any kind of standard operation that he could think of, but they would work very well at augmenting base defense or any other hot spot that would require brute firepower. Their armour was so tough that it would take a full auto cannon 20 round to drop a single suit, and there were four in each squad, and there were two squads of them. Their Sunburst laser systems would rival any medium-ranged one carried by a Mech. That, backed up by their missile launchers would put a world of hurt on anything that got close to them.

James had also been very surprised when David Ten Bears had also pointed out three Mechs and said they were his as well. Payment for the success of the two major missions he had performed for them, specifically Blut Garten Village.

A couple of rumours that he had heard was that that specific raid had broken the back of the New SARS militia. Hamstringing the logistics chain. With their supplies choked off units were not able to perform with as much strength as they should have. And this situation had started to show its results during the battle at Firebase Nova.

James knew he wouldnâ€™t be able to use these Mechs. So he just had them stored inside the Event Horizon. He was very shocked at one of the Mechs he had received. A Black Hawk KU. It was an Omni Mech. Even more so, it had Clan weapons on it. That kind of firepower would be greatly appreciated in any upcoming fight.

Until he could figure out what he wanted to do with them storage was the best place for them. Odds were most likely they would have to be sold. The Hussar was a fast recon back, but fragile. The Scarabus was also a light Mech, but it was also designed as a knife fighter carrying a hatchet on it forearm.

The Military Hardware Brokerage was always looking for some good used quality equipment. Odds were would be sitting right there. James also knew that clan tech was scarce and highly sought after. He knew heâ€™d be able to find a buyer for the Black Hawk and that most likely they would be paying premium C-Bills.

James was a mercenary now. Part of being a mercenary was taking risks. In this case, he was going to take a risk, but only a monetary one. They were enroute now to pick up the additional squads of battle armour that he had purchased. There would be five more squads, of these Fa Shih and two more of the Rottweiler squads when they touched down again.

That reminded him of the paperwork he still had on his hand. All the prospective candidates that he would need to hire in order to run these new pieces of military hardware. He would be needing close to an additional 50 personnel. That meant his desk would be buried for the next few weeks as he would try to sift and sort through all the stacks. He was hoping that he had remembered all of what David taught him about reading personal jackets. Though he would still probably try to resource him, he was hoping that this time that things would be better.

He also been seriously watching any news in the helicopter arena. He is seeing all the warnings to ground Cormorants and the subsequent solicitation for bid for its replacement. The Warrior was an excellent combat VTOL, but lacked the armour of being a staying force on the battlefield. It would take very little to bring them down. After the raid against Blut Garten Village, he would like to see a little more staying power in his craft. To that end, heâ€™d been doing a lot of catalogue shopping. To see what he could find for a replacement. He hadnâ€™t been able to find much. Even though they carried a tremendous amount of firepower, the Yellow Jackets seemed too slow for him. Hawk Moths were a little faster, but he wasnâ€™t as happy with the firepower that they carried. So he was anxiously awaiting the results from the military hardware brokerage. To see if this new attack craft would be what he is looking for.

James, carefully left the hold and started working his way back to the office. They had actually given him an office, vs. the cargo container he and the rest of Trouble Inc. had used on their first assignment. Things had changed a lot in less than two years. Hopefully this positive change would continue.

Vampire · « **Reply #1 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:02:17 AM »

December 5th, 3079
16:50 hours
Commanding Officers Office for Trouble Inc
Aboard the dropship Event Horizon
Enroute to Tancredi IV
Periphery Space

James prepared himself for the task at hand. It wasnâ€™t a pleasant one, but it was one he needed to do. He closed the file in front of him and put it off to one side of his desk. A moment later the door chime sounded. The door then immediately opened. Eugene's face was in the doorway. He stood to one side and let Darnell in. Darnell walked in and up to the desk.

"You wanted to see me boss?" Darnell

James motioned to take a seat and Darnell sat. The door closed behind them, but Eugene actually hadn't left. He was standing back by the door out Darnell's line of sight. James paused for a long moment, letting Darnell stew wondering what this is about, though he should already know.

"I've been going over your fitness reports lately," James opened the conversation "and the reason I called you in here is because your gunnery scores haven't been up to par with the rest of the unit."

"I have been making improvements." Darnell.

"And I've been logging the sim time." Darnell

James nodded.

"Yes, you have been putting in the required sim time. I have the reports here. What I also have here are your qualifying scores when you arrived, and all the numbers from every sim training that you've done and subsequent qualifications that I have had you run. Although you have shown improvement, you are not up to where you should be with the unit. Your scores were low when I first hired you. I figured you were just a little green and needed more training. You have been with us, what, now almost a year, and these scores don't reflect that." James

"But sir, my scores have improved, and Mary and I have been working together as a great team. It wouldn't be fair to her to break us up now." Darnell

Darnell was visibly upset. Enough so that James and started a little pity, but he couldn't let it go on. There was an old Terran saying "Fish or cut bait." So James put it out there.

"Darnell, the Black Stars have just taken another contract. It is expected to run about four months, and it will probably take us about that much time to get there. You have until the end of the contract to get your scores up there, if theyâ€™re not, I'm going to have to cut you loose." James.

James cut Darnell off.

"That's the best I can do." James.

James pulled the hard copy file over, opened it and pulled out a single page. On it was where Darnell's current scores were, and there was also another set of numbers, and that was where Darnell needed to be. He placed the sheet on the desk, spun it around to face Darnell with one hand and pushed it in front of him.

"That is where your scores are now and where they need to be by the end of this next contract." James

James closed the folder, and put it back to one side. Darnell got up and saw Eugene standing behind him. He left with paper in hand and the ultimatum placed squarely in front of him. James just looked down at the desk after Darnell had left.

Darnell's words came back to James about him saying that he and Mary were a great team, and it wouldnâ€™t be fair to her break it up. James had let that remark roll off him. James was playing the role of the heavy. Darnell apparently was really clueless about what was really going on. The real reason, that James had been taking an interest in Darnellâ€™s scores is because of another sheet of paper that was in that file on his desk, and that was from Mary herself, complaining that Darnell didn't have the skills and was requesting a new gunner.

Eugene was still back over near the door and waited a moment before speaking.

"You know, it needed to be done and you handled it pretty well as far as I was concerned. Though maybe a little soft, I was expecting you to cut him loose now." Eugene.

"Maybe I am a little soft. But he won't be able to walk away from this one saying that I never gave him a chance." James.

James realized he would have to tell Mary that she be stuck with him for another few months and if he didn't improve that she would get her request.

December 13th ,3079
22:15 hours
Opulant Hotel
Bryceland
Federated Suns

"Where are we headed?" Russo

"I've got no idea. All the contract says is to meet the unit at Tancredi IV and then we're headed for some place called Nibo." Smith

"What about you Schaap, have you ever heard of this place?" Russo

"Nope. Never heard of it." Schaap.

"Ah great man! If Schaap's never heard of it itâ€™s got to be on the backside of nowhere. He's worked on everyplace this side of it." Russo

Three heads nodded in an affirmative.

Schaap was the oldest one in the group. Technically he was probably a few years past retirement, but a true mercenary doesn't retire until a bullet does it for him.

Schaap, Russo, Johansson and Smith were battle armour troopers. Due to a misfortune, they had been stripped of their suits. Without their suits, they were having trouble finding any kind of work. And then they spotted a job posting. Actually it looked like a misposting because there were multiple postings of the same job by the same person. For the same need. Since they were getting this message a little late, they were afraid the slot for the battle armour crew was already filled. But if on an extreme chance that this position hadnâ€™t been filled yet, they wanted to try to get a piece of it.

After they had put in their request. There had been a response requesting some additional documentation that hadn't been included. Smith had purposely left that out of the first time around. No need giving away all the information to a prospective employer who may not have any interest. One of the key pieces of information that they had requested was the actual disposition of gear, which was basically asking for their suits. The follow-up request showed that there was as to interest, and of course after he had sent the required documentation. He was expecting a "no thank you" answer. But when it came back in an affirmative, which he had just finished reading, he knew that there had to be some sort of catch but what it was he wasn't sure. But in the meantime, it was a job. By reputation, they were probably one of the last units anywhere in the known verse that you'd want to work for, but the Black Stars were a legitimate mercenary unit, and they were hiring.

So Smith quickly with a terminal and type back to response that they were accepting and they were enroute. They were surprised to see that they were to catch some sort of the DMM transport, which the Black Stars were paying for. Anything was better than this dump. Somebody had a very twisted sense of humour when they call this place Opulent Hotel. Russo claimed he actually saw a family flees packing up to move to a higher class joint. The rest werenâ€™t so sure he wasnâ€™t right.

Since Tancredi IV was a Star League depot world, there would be a command circuit back-and-forth between them for resupply and communications.

Meanwhile, other such units had also responded to the job posting, taking the information pretty much the same way. Everybody thought it was a typo when they saw 11 slots open on the list for battle armour. They thought that some new fool didn't know that they were posting and had duplicated the job opening multiple times and everybody expected it to be closed.

<One Week Later>

Back on the Event Horizon, James had an entire tray of data chips on his desk. Each tray would hold 36 chips. Each chip held an application. These were not individual applications. These were unit applications for his battle armour listings. Their unit jackets showed that a lot of them had seen some action. Some were also rookies, fresh out of whatever military Academy they were from. There was also another almost full box of data chips in the bottom drawer of his desk. These were applications that he wasn't even considering looking at a second time. He learned enough from David the first time to recognize these as "you can do withouts." He just finished going through the last of the first rounds of their jackets. He was just now getting ready to sit down and go through them again.

He never realized how much paperwork there was to do by being in charge. He now had a little more appreciation for what his last boss did back in the Hanseatic League. That seemed ages ago now, as he stopped and reflected upon it.

He looked at the chrono. It looked like is about time for him to go and do a little PT and maybe log a little sim time. And then come back to this. At least he should have a little fresher mind at that point.

December 21th, 3079
19:50 hours
Crew Quarters for Trouble Inc
Aboard the dropship Event Horizon
Enroute to Tancredi IV
Federated Suns Space

Carl was sitting there at the computer terminal playing the message. A brunette woman, kind of plain in looks, was talking to him over the screen. She was saying, John just earned a 95 on his history lesson and you know how bad he is at history. His math is excellent as always, though he is only getting a C in English. Your sister Darlene was over for dinner last Thursday. She brought a roast lamb. It wasn't quite the same without Hans mint jelly. His son doesn't quite know how to make it like Hans did but I guess it was good enough. They say we are in for a warm summer. Just as soon as we can get this cold snap out of the way. She went on about other things that were going on back in the city that they grew up in. Then she said "Carl dear, I love you." Then he watched as she leaned forward and stop the recording. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, along with a little anger building up inside of him. But for the most part he just felt sorrow. She told him that she loved him, and she hadnâ€™t done that in a very long time. That should have been his first clue that something was wrong, but he missed. He didn't find out until six months later, when the next StarMail caught up to him. That's when he found out she had died probably right about the time that he had listened to this message. Given that it taken a few weeks for it to catch up to him. It was cancer. That meant she had known for a while. She just hadn't told him. His sister Darlene had to tell him at the same time she was telling him that she had died.

They had had a falling out, Carl and Melissa, it had been about 10 years at that point in time. It was over John, her son. She had always claimed that John was his, but he found out that she'd been cheating on him so he wasn't believing her when she said John was his. He'd already been working for local militia back then, and they had sent him to one of the neighbouring planets of the system to help with crowd control. He been gone for several months. When he found out he was extremely upset. And after their very large yelling match, he grabbed his gear and left. He spent some time in the local militia there afterwards, moving up to active duty. Then he left and joined the mercenary groups.

She kept in touch with him over the years, sending him StarMails that caught up with him at haphazard times. But she had never told him that she loved him ever since the fight, until then. He understood now that she knew that she was dying. She had not told him, not wanting that to be used as an excuse for him to come back. She had wanted him to come back on his own and for his own reasons. She was hoping that he would come back and see her at least once. But he never did. It was then and only then, after she had died, that he realized he still had feelings for her. That he had never loved another woman since. He had had a few women but he had never loved any of them. And every now and then he would take out this recording and play it again just to see her face and hear her voice. He still didn't believe that John was his though his sister had taken him in and was raising him along with her three children. Occasionally he'd send a few C-bills back home. Always saying it was to help her out, never the boy.

There was a chime at the door. Carl quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and then the door opened.

"Hey Bremmerhof you up for some chow?" Whitman

At the sound of the chime. He had switched off the message. He responded "Yeah, let's get a bite to eat." He grabbed the data chip with the message on it out of the machine as he stood up pocketing it as he walked to the door.

Whitman asked, "Are you all right man?"

"Yeah, this ship can get to you if you are not careful." Bremmerhof.

With that, they both left the room and headed for the galley. Whitman missed the one last solitary tear their Bremmerhof had shed. He wiped it away when Whitman wasn't looking. A lot of people thought Bremmerhof was an uncaring bastard hence his Call Sign. The real truth was he did care. He just kept it buried deep.

December 24th, 3079
1924 hours, Local time
Commercial Ward
Alice Springs Castle Brian Complex
Central Australia, Terra
Star League

â€œ*Sigh* Far too easyâ€¦â€

On the monitor screen displaying the simulated match between the two pilots currently locked inside their respective simulator pods, any people who happened to be watching the little dogfight would have recognized at once that one of the two fighters was in serious trouble. Having attained the higher ground from the start, the nimble, aerodynamically designed Davion-made DARO-1 Dagger Omnifighter glided gracefully into a sharp split-S which placed the 45-tonner squarely behind the tail of its adversary, a bigger, slower, STU-D6 Stuka.

While many pilots have considered the heavyweight Stuka as one of the most manoeuvrable fighters in its weight class, and especially so in the atmosphere due to its good aerodynamics, one cannot deny that it is still nowhere near as manoeuvrable as a lighter, faster fighter also designed with good aerodynamics. The DARO-1 Dagger is just that, and even worse, it was an Aerospace Omnifighter designed with one express purpose in mind: To hunt and shoot down other aerospace fighters. The Stuka never really had a fighting chance to begin with, especially considering the difference of ability between the pilots fighting each other.

A long tongue of flame burst out from the muzzle of the 80mm calibre Rotary Autocannon mounted slightly underneath the Daggerâ€™s nose, and the medium fighterâ€™s quartet of wing-mounted Extended Range Medium Lasers fired simultaneously, ravaging the backside of the 100-ton Stuka in an orchestrated symphony of pure energy and hot metal. The four Medium lasers, travelling at the speed of light, struck first and melted over one and a half tons of armour from the Stukaâ€™s backside, but more importantly, one of them also melted part of the rudder of the heavier fighter. The storm of rapid-fire projectiles fired from the rotary autocannon arrived shortly afterwards, blasting off more armour from the Stuka and apparently at least one of the shots managed to pierce through the armour and score a hit on something critical inside, for the Stuka suddenly lost control and went into an uncontrolled downward spiral, thick smoke trailing from its savaged backside.

Most fighter pilots would have been satisfied with that, but apparently not the pilot of the Dagger, for the 45-ton fighter followed its stricken opponent into the descent, coming to less than a hundred yards of the heavy aerospace fighter before unleashing another full salvo from almost every weapon it possesses. The torrent of explosive shells and searing bolts of light once again engulfed the 100-ton Stukaâ€™s backside, this time smashing right through whatever armour is left on its rear, and igniting its remaining fuel reserves, which causes the plane to disintegrate into a big ball of fire in mid-air.

â€œAuf Wiedersehen, Dummkopf.â€

â€œSimulation finished. Destruction of target objective achieved at 00:01:52 from the start of the simulation.â€œ Announced a cold, mechanic voice as the simulator pod grows dark. Faintly audible through the walls of the pod is some loud cursing in multiple languages, predictably from the fighter pilot who just lost the match.

Erica â€œSchwarzteufelâ€ Hartmann, former ace pilot of the 14th Donegal Guards RCT, calmly removed her helmet and stepped out of her simulator pod. At a glance, one would find the twenty-two year old Lyran unimpressive, being very short and small by Lyran measure at only one hundred and fifty one centimetres and weighing at most around forty kilos with flight-suit and helmet included. Her rather short-cut straw blonde hair and clear, blue eyes, lent her features a kind of childish innocence as she looked with a bored expression at her most recent opponent (Or victim, whichever you prefer.).

â€œYou little Lyran bitch! One more time! Double or nothing!â€

â€œDouble or nothing? Tell you what. Make it quadruple and Iâ€™ll take on your Stuka in a convy, blind atmospheric fight.â€ Erica replied, still wearing the same bored expression on her face.

â€œYouâ€™re kidding.â€

â€œSerious as ever. Take it or pay.â€

â€œFine! Itâ€™s your funeral!â€

â€œItâ€™s your money to spend, Dummkopf.â€ She quietly muttered as she walked back into her simulator pod. Over to the side, Theresa â€œWeissritterâ€ Weissenberger, her wingman and best friend since early childhood could only shake her head in disbelief at the audacity of her partner. They do not have the money to pay that bet should they lose!

Unlike her diminutive partner and comrade-in-arms, Theresa Weissenberger looks more like the typical Lyran citizen, tall and broad shouldered at one-hundred and seventy-eight centimetres while weighing around seventy kilos. Her eyes were of a darker blue shade, commonly called Prussian blue, and her shoulder-length hair is a deep chestnut brown in colour.

Theresa was not the only one who was surprised at the little, seemingly impossible challenge of taking on a 100-ton state-of-the-art Stuka Aerospace Fighter using a conventional aircraft, but Caecilius Jarred â€œCJâ€ Harding of the Black Stars mercenary outfit and his ever present Fire Mandrill partner Reed both raised an eyebrow as they caught parts of that conversation. Originally Harding had only went to the area to waste some time, being bored with nothing to do, but the short match earlier, coupled with the insane bet, perked up his interest. True, the Black Stars has no notable aerospace force to speak of at the moment, but if that little pilot could make good of her boastâ€¦ Itâ€™d take an utter idiot to let that kind of pilot go, and â€œCJâ€ Harding never considered his intelligence to be in question.

The simulation started and displayed the landscape randomly chosen for the match-up, a slightly cloudy afternoon sky over the open ocean, with only slight wind. The blind-fight clause Erica asked for earlier (and to which her opponent stupidly agreed on) was a simple one: Their radars are disabled, which leaves all the detection they must do to the good old Mark 0 Type 1 Eyeballs. That suited her just fine, for even she knew that it would have been suicide to face a Stuka in the Light Strike Fighter she is piloting right now. Not that the little, 10-ton craft is slow or sluggish, for it is in fact very fast and highly manoeuvrable, but it is more of the fact that her craft would not be able to take a single hit from any of the Stukaâ€™s weaponry and stay in the air.

Generally, people would assume that conditions in a blind-fight are equal. When one of the two contenders grew up among conventional aircrafts and gliders, and thus used to fly without advanced radar instruments like Erica is, and the other had no experience whatsoever in blind-fighting however, that is most certainly not the case. As it is, Erica gently pulled on her control stick and pushed the throttle to three-quarters maximum, bringing her little craft into a steep climb that soon brought her slightly above the lowest clouds. It did not take her sharp eyes long to notice the moving speck far below her that could have been nothing else but her opponentâ€™s Stuka. There are only the two of them in this simulation after all.

Easing the throttle somewhat, and tilting the stick sharply, Erica expertly sent her fighter into a steep dive, conserving her fuel by allowing gravity to lend speed to her descent. Without radars to help him locate his enemy, the Stuka pilot could only look around for his target, and even if he looked upwards, he would not have noticed Ericaâ€™s craft, for she had smartly placed herself into such a position that the sun would be behind her, making any recognition difficult at the very least.

The first sign the Stuka pilot had of her presence was when he caught a passing blur at the edge of his peripheral vision, followed by a shudder that could be felt all over the heavy aerospace fighter when four short-range missiles fired by the passing Light Strike Fighter peppered the Stukaâ€™s right wing, only missing the delicate control surfaces on the wing by pure luck. He frantically looked to all sides, before finally noticing the speeding conventional fighter climbing into a rather steep climb below and to the right of his own fighter. He turned his fighter to pursue without a second thought.

After having taken a glance to the back to make sure that the Stuka came to pursue her, Erica slammed the throttle to the full, and was in turn slammed against her seat by the accelerating fighter craft, grunting in response to the G-forces acting on her as she threw her Light Strike Fighter into a sideways loop at the end of her climb, pulling a manoeuvre that is basically a modified Immelmannâ€™s turn, only that she neither yawed nor stalled during the manoeuvre, things made possible by the much more advanced fighter she piloted compared to the old Terra flying ace. The Stuka opened fire with its Large Lasers and LRMs, but none of the shots even came close to hitting at long ranges against the speeding fighter plane.

Erica made good use of a rather thick cloud right ahead of her, and plunged right into the cloud, breaking loose right through the other side before turning her fighter into another attack run at the much heavier Stuka. Her little trick seems to have caught the Stuka pilot with his pants down once again, and he did not manage to turn around in time to prevent her from slamming another quartet of missiles against his right wing. Fired from a distance of less than a hundred yards, there was little chance of the shots missing, and all four slammed right against the wings, though once again failing to do much more than blow up more armour plating off the thick-skinned Stuka. Erica herself had to throw her fighter into a tight corkscrew roll in order to avoid crashing her fighter into her opponentâ€™s fighter after firing, passing besides the Stuka at a distance of less than five meters.

This time, she did not pull up into a climb right away, knowing that her opponent would most likely expect her to do just that. Instead, she continued her dive before pulling her fighter back to level flight just before she hit the water, and kept her faster, more agile fighter directly below the Stuka, making it nearly impossible for her foe to see her unless he were to pull a 180-degree roll and look down from there. After allowing some time for her enemy to confuse himself with her â€œdisappearanceâ€, she slammed on her afterburners, and pushed her fighter into a very steep climb, this time hitting with three of her four missiles right at the same wing she has worked on from the start of the match.

One of the biggest weaknesses of any aerospace fighter is that they cannot shoot anywhere other than directly forward or directly backwards.

Thick, dark smoke spewed out from the damaged appendage of the STU-D6 Stuka, Ericaâ€™s last missile salve had evidently found something other than plain armour to bite on, and she could notice that the bigger aerospace fighter looked like it is having trouble just keeping its flight steady. Another big weakness of aerospace fighters is that even though they may be well armoured, a hit on the many delicate systems required to keep the plane operating â€“ even more so in the atmosphere â€“ and you generally have a crippled plane. This time Erica decided that her opponent does not possess the three functional brain cell required to think of trying to trick her by feigning damage, and she did not waste any time, immediately executing an extremely tight half-loop that brought her Light Strike Fighter back into a dive â€“ and a collision course â€“ with the Stuka.

She was right. The STU-D6 Stuka pilot had the unenviable task of having to keep his fighter steady to occupy him, and his predicament only worsened by far when Erica slammed another four missiles into his damaged wing, this time blowing one of the ailerons that help control the Stuka in atmospheric flight clean off the aerospace fighter. The loss of an aileron would have been rather harmless in space combat, where the manoeuvring thrusters would be sufficient to provide all the manoeuvrability you need, but in the atmosphere, the loss of such a minor part of the plane causes plenty of complications.

One minute and four passes later, Erica watched with satisfaction from the cockpit of her unscathed Light Strike Fighter as the now one-winged Stuka plummeted into the ocean, its right wing completely demolished by no less than twenty-five short-range missiles, which eventually broke the craftâ€™s structural support and ripped the wing off the plane as it tried to make a turn.

Outside the simulator, Reed involuntarily gave an appreciative whistle as the large display monitor showed the watery end of the Stuka. Harding had to rub his eyes at the display. While he would not debate that the pilot of the Stuka could hardly be considered competent unless it is in the most liberal sense of the word, the performance of the other pilot ticked off several possibilities in his mind. The first that came to mind was that he would not like the idea of going into battle with that pilot flying for the other side. The second was that the easiest way to make sure the first thought never happened is to simply get that pilot into your side.

When Erica stepped out of the simulator for the second time of the evening, she found her opponent already standing there, holding out a thick wad of C-bills to her. The man turned away without saying a single word after she took the bundle of C-bills, and promptly left the room, his face deep red not with anger, but with embarrassment. Harding took a single glance at the man and almost felt pity for him. The man looked almost ready to dig a hole to the centre of the planet and bury himself inside it to cover up the utter humiliation he just suffered on the hands of the diminutive Lyran. As a rule, Aerospace fighters do NOT get shot down by conventional fighters.

â€œDonâ€™t you think you went a little bit too far with that guy?â€ Asked Theresa to her friend as she handed over Schwarz, Ericaâ€™s pet which is actually cat-like creature, an indigenous fauna of their home planet of Blumenort and one that many people there kept as pets, to her. The little creature is smaller than a cat, not much bigger than a kitten, really, with sleek fur and cat-like features. The most distinguishing feature of the little animal being its three-jointed legs and its tail, which splits into two separate appendages halfway through its length. That and its average lifespan of approximately two hundred years. Schwarz had been Ericaâ€™s fatherâ€™s pet before she became her pet.

â€œWieso? That Dummkopf is no good for a pilot. I saved him a casket and his boss a plane this way.â€

â€œStillâ€¦ you did not have to go THAT farâ€¦ It would have been humiliating enough for him had you just shoot him down with another lighter fighter.â€

â€œStimmt, but then we wouldnâ€™t have got this much out of him, nicht wahr?â€

Theresa could do nothing but shake her head at that answer. There are times when she felt that her friend REALLY showed what many people in the Inner Sphere considered to be the typical attitude of a Lyran.

It was at that time that Erica and Theresa noted the two men walking towards them. One of them an older man, the other younger and much better built, holding himself with perfect military bearing. Theresa wondered what those two want with them, but Erica merely looked on with the same bored expression, her mind already going back into her own little world now that sheâ€™s no longer sitting inside the cockpit of a fighter, even if it is just a simulated one.

~ Thirty Minutes Later ~

â€œYouâ€™re serious, arenâ€™t you? Not trying to pull one on us?â€ Queried Theresa, a doubtful expression plastered on her face. The man calling himself â€œHardingâ€ had offered her and Erica some dinner, and then placed an offer for employment for the two of them as well. Sure, the outfit he represented has earned a reputation as being the cesspool in the very bottom of the deepest cesspool, but so far, no outfits Theresa tried to apply to would accept the two of them â€“ Nothing about Theresa herself, but Ericaâ€™s recorded history of taking her fighter out on â€œjoyridesâ€ as well as mental profile (in particular the mild case of autism and nearly Idiot Savant condition of her friend) has caused rejections despite her combat record. â€“, and here she has an outfit actually offering Erica in particular a berth in their roster. The two girls are a team, and she would not have been willing to break it up, which accounts for why they havenâ€™t been employed despite the same refusing outfits also expressing their willingness to give Theresa a place.

Erica just stared vacantly at the two men, her plate already finished and she not taking any part of the discussion.

â€œWell, yep. Like I said, the boss doesnâ€™t exactly mind anyone as long as theyâ€™re good on the field. Yer friend seems to at least fit that bill well â€˜nough.â€ Replied Harding. The interview went better than he expected, in part because he found out that nobody wanted to take the pilots sitting across the table from him, due to the mental makeup of one and the unwillingness of the other to leave her friend alone. Stillâ€¦ if that Erica girl could perform as well on the battlefield â€“ something he did not have much doubt since he checked her dossier during the meal, finding that she turned out to be a former LAAF double-ace, and got every kill of hers against the Clans at that, including a couple of DropShips, no small feat â€“ the risk might be more than worth it.

â€œDo we have a deal, ladies?â€ He went on in his most â€œgentlemanâ€-ly voice.

â€œAs long as you give me something to flyâ€¦â€ Muttered Erica, seemingly with complete indifference to her surroundings.

â€œWeâ€™ll take your offer.â€ Confirmed Theresa on behalf of her friend.

Nibo City, Kingdom of Nibo
Nibo IV
24th December 3079
2005 hours local time

â€œWhat do you mean NO news?â€ The recently crowned King Marcus Collins II asked of the bespectacled man before him. â€œThey were on a DropShip, linked to a JumpShip â€“ just two jumps away from the Nibo system. There must have been SOMETHING.â€

The older man swept his brows with shaking hands. The young King did not possess of the fiery temperament of his father â€“ not yet anyway. But it was never a good idea to upset oneâ€™s liege, and paymaster. Professor Dextor Sparks spread his arms in resignation. â€œIâ€™m afraid thatâ€™s just it my Lord. Their last transmission reported that they detected what seemed to be a space vessel orbiting one of the systems and would be moving in for closer inspection. That was early this month. Since then, we have not received any further reports back from the expedition team.â€

Marcus turned towards a heavy set man standing to the Professorâ€™s side. â€œAdmiral?â€

Rear Admiral Vincent Alfax had been appointed to his position after the invasion. Then Captain Alfax had been in command of the only assault DropShip â€“ an ancient Avenger purchased from the Draconis Combine (at ridiculously high cost), and led the small but potent mix of spanking new Sword aerospace fighters, other older designs and a pair of armed Mule Class DropShips against the naval armada of the invaders. Alfax had displayed amazing tactical skills and ingenuity, frequently manoeuvring the small force he had in hand against the numerically superior enemy fleet so that he could hit them where the Nibo fleet could fight with local advantage in numbers. With the Nibo Air Admiralty now expanded to include a pair of Kuan Ti assault DropShips, two Avengers including Alfaxâ€™s former ship, Sword heavy fighters and the more nimble Corax light fighters, Rear Admiral Alfax had sworn to bleed any invaders bone dry before they could ever feel the soil on Nibo itself. The entire Nibo military had seen a new breed of soldiers and officers rose to prominence during the invasion. Young officers like Alfax had replaced many of the dead wood that had previously spread throughout the old NAF. While Quikscell might have severely damaged the economical and industrial abilities of the Kingdom, it had inadvertently strengthened the Kingdom in ways it had never thought of.

â€œIâ€™m afraid what the Professor said is true my Lord.â€ He replied simply.

The young King scraped his chin, deep in thought. â€œAny chance of the DropShip Captain making a find of some sort of treasure trove and running?â€

Alfax shook his head slightly. â€œI have known Captain Pallister since my time as a second mate on one of our merchant DropShips. He may have been known as an old coot and a stick in the mud, but his loyalty and integrity is beyond doubt.â€

Marcus nodded before raising his eyebrow. â€œThe people under him?â€

A new voice joined the discussion. â€œLieutenant Hughes who led the infantry detachment had a distinguished track record during the invasion. I doubt he would have given up his land holdings, or his family here for money â€“ no matter the amount.â€

Marcus turned towards the new comer even though he already knew who it was. â€œMajor Katz, glad that you could join us.â€ He smiled. â€œThe part about not giving up on land holdings or familyâ€¦ thatâ€™s a little too much to ask for donâ€™t you think? Especially if the treasure they find might make them multi millionaires.â€

â€œTrue.â€ The elderly female MechWarrior agreed. â€œBut Hughes was offered a huge bribe by Quikscell during the invasion. If he did not turn than, I doubt he would turn now.â€

Marcus swore under his breath. He turned towards the Professor. â€œYou do realize that this was the THIRD expedition Iâ€™ve despatched yes? I donâ€™t know what you guys teach in NU, but these things DO cost money, and money do NOT grow on trees â€“ whatever my father might have told our citizens.â€

Emma smiled. â€œI have an idea, if my Lord would care to listen?â€

Marcus mirrored her smile. â€œOf course Major. Itâ€™s not like me of my friends here are currently brimming with them now.â€

â€œIâ€™ve heard recently of reports of this group of mercenaries who seem to specialize operating in the Periphery, especially underâ€¦ interesting situations. They have a certainâ€¦ reputation that seemed to preclude more reputable employers from seeking their employment though.â€ Emma started. â€œOur particular predication might be something they might be interested in exploring. For a suitable fee for course.â€

â€œMercenaries?â€ Alfax spat the word like it was poison. â€œMy Lord, I must protest. Havenâ€™t we had enough of them.â€

â€œIndeed we have Admiral.â€ The smile on Marcusâ€™s face spread into a grin. â€œHowever, these mercs would be operating mostly AWAY from Nibo, out of our system, far from spitting distance to our planet.â€

â€œThe mercs would provide more protection that we ourselves could afford at this moment. And frankly speaking, theyâ€™d be a better escort than our own forces since most, if not all of them had never fought away from our own planet.â€ Emma added.

â€œBut what if thereâ€™s a repeat of the invasion?â€ Alfax pushed on. â€œHow can we be sure that they would not take advantage of our current weakened state and attack us under the guise of seeking honest employment?â€

â€œThe Kingdom of Nibo? Offering honest employment?â€ Marcus laughed. â€œIâ€™m sorry my friend, but you do realize that these two are absolute oxy morons yes?â€ The King of Nibo stood. â€œIf it would pacify you, you have mobilise the entire Nibo Air Admiralty during their arrival in system. And of course I will have Major Katz put the entire Immortals battalion on guard duty during their stay here.â€

Alfax still looked dubious. Marcus clapped his hands onto the man on his shoulders. â€œI love you like the brother that my departed father did not see fit to bestow from his royal loins. However, I doubt a mixed company of mercenaries, even if they were from the Wolf Dragoons would be able to do much against the entire might of the Nibo Armed Forces, yes?â€

â€œAnd to make doubly sure, weâ€™ll dispatched them together with a pair of Swords OmniFighters. Youâ€™ll get to choose the pilots. Theyâ€™ll also be transported by one of those armed Mule DropShips that served you so well in the invasion.â€ Marcus beamed.

â€œAn excellent proposal my Lord.â€ The nearly forgotten Professor Dextor Sparks remarked.

â€œOh, and to make sure that the expedition is under good, knowledgeable guidance, YOU will be put in charge of the mission.â€

The face of the Professor turned pale. â€œButâ€¦ butâ€¦ thereâ€™s lots of other important work back at the University that requires my personal attentionâ€¦â€

â€œCome now Professor.â€ Marcus smiled widely. â€œRemember what you told me? This might be THE find of the century if not the millennium! What wouldnâ€™t I give to be part of it if not for the chores of running our little world.â€ The young King grinned. â€œNo. I would not refuse you the chance of attaining possible eternal fame. You will go, and that is final.â€

Professor Dextor Sparks spared at the faces smiling at him. For all the hours long lectures he had ever given, for some reason, words failed him completely. All he could do was to nod in surrender.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Marcus turned back towards the Major. "What's the name of this outfit again?"

"The Black Stars my Lord." Emma announced. "They call themselves the Black Stars."

Vampire · « **Reply #2 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:03:11 AM »

January 23rd, 3080
1201 hours, Local time
Merchant-Class Jumpship Star Wind
Nadir Jump Point
Tancredi IV
Federated Suns

The universe righted itself once more.

It took Aina nearly four month, and twenty-four hyperspace jumps to travel all the way from Terra to Tancredi IV, where she is supposed to rendezvous with the rest of the Black Stars. From the schedule Harding gave her back on Terra, is everything went as planned, the Black Stars should reach the planet something around the first week of February, and they should be making a stop on the planet itself, which led to her decision to go down to the planet together with the commercial DropShip sheâ€™s riding on. She has at least a week of waiting ahead of her, having arrived ahead of her expected schedule when she managed to hitch a ride on another DropShip along the way.

Since there is not much to do during the long hours of space travel, Aina simply kept herself busy on the grav-decks whenever she has time, keeping herself in fighting trim. On occasions, some freebirth surats went to look for trouble with her, which she immediately showed to them to be a VERY bad idea. She was once Jade Falcon, and that part of her heritage would never be removed from her.

Waiting for the DropShip to finish its preparations for departure, she spends her time in her small, Spartan cabin, having opted for one of the cheapest ones on the ship, never needing much in terms of amenities to begin with. The Sternsnacht Heavy Pistol that Tyler Rotberg left her is currently disassembled on her bed as she diligently cleaned each part of the weaponâ€™s internal machinery. The firearms was a good one, she will admit that, although she kept is less for sentimental reasons and more for practical ones. Why bother buying a sidearm when you already have a good one?

Despite having lived out the last six years in the Inner Sphere, amongst the populace, she still finds many of their concepts hard to understand. Especially the strange attachment most of them expressed to others as â€œLoveâ€. Despite having given birth to a child for Tyler, she never felt any kind of actual attachment to the man other than the respect she had for his prowess on the battlefield. The only reason she agreed to bear his child was precisely what he asked of her: To help him pass on his genetic legacy.

Looking over at her three-year-old child though, Aina cannot help but wonder if there is indeed something to that Inner Sphere idea of â€œLoveâ€. While she never felt any particular attachment to the childâ€™s father, she found herself caring for the little girlâ€™s well-being much more than what she would have considered normal. There isâ€¦ somethingâ€¦ about the little child that made her feel somewhat warm inside when she looked at her, something she did not understand the least bit of. Inner Sphere psychological students would call that â€œsomethingâ€ as motherly affection.

Diana for her part, did not seem to mind the months of space travel, although Aina made sure to bring her to the Grav-decks whenever possible, to ensure that her growing musculature did not become stunted due to the lack of gravity. The jumps themselves, which has various effects from extreme nausea to a mere discomfort depending on the person, seems to barely effect the child. In fact, Aina often found her child laughing at something she could not see after a hyperspace jump. She herself rarely felt more than a mild nausea, but has heard that some people see strange, unexplainable things when a JumpShipâ€™s Kearny-Fuchida drive propels it through space and time through a distance of up to thirty light years. Maybe her child were laughing at those things.

At the moment however, the little girl is not laughing. She sits still, mesmerized at the scene that is playing out on the holovid screen that is set on one of the cabinâ€™s walls, where it displays combat footage taken from the recent Star Adder invasion into the Federated Suns. The vid screen shows nothing other than death and destruction, BattleMechs blasting each other into tiny pieces with lethal intent, and people dying left and right even as the battlefield reporter tries to make his report heard over the loud explosions of the ongoing battle. It was not a sight most mothers would allow their young children to look at, but then again, Ainaâ€™s idea of child rearing is considerably different than that of most mothers in the Inner Sphere.

Diana did not mind. If anything, Aina discovered that her daughter seems to enjoy such footages more than the usual useless entertainment spheroids usually feed their children. That is good. The child is to grow up to be a warrior worthy of her genetic lineage, and she would accept nothing less. She will see that the child carry on her lineage with pride, and she will do whatever it takes to achieve that.

As the thought crossed her mind, she pondered her own situation. Before the eyes of her clan she would have been considered dezgra, if not worse. None of them would understand her decision to bear a freeborn child for a freeborn warrior, and she knows that there is no return to her clan, for her child has no future there. Now she finds herself in the employ of mercenaries, long considered dezgra by the clans, and from what she heard about her employers (And from what the man called Harding frankly told her back on Terra), she is enrolling into the one outfit that is considered the most dezgra of the dezgra community. That suits her well. What else would be more fitting for
someone already an outcast like her?

January 28th, 3080
1300 hours
Dolsonville
Tancredi IV
Federated Suns

The blistering midday sun beat down on the capital city of Tancredi IV, causing all but the most foolish to seek shelter from it's glare. As was tradition in these parts the city would practically come to a halt for the hottest part of the day, with most establishments not reopening until the early evening. Locals would use this as an opportunity for a little siesta, but there were always a few gormless off worlders that would spend the next few hours wandering the deserted streets wondering where everybody was.

Kei Gar-Xincon had spent the last two weeks in Dolsonville and was naturally well aware of this local habit. Intense as the heat was, it hadn't stopped her from taking a daily walk in the sun - she liked the heat, it reminded her of where she had grown up. Seven years of her life had just passed her by, the vast majority of it spent in a Lyran prison on an icy rock posing as a bonafide planet. Feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin was a rare pleasure, and little things like the temperature pushing 40ÂºC weren't going to bother her at the moment. Walking this empty city, Kei almost felt relaxed - almost.

There was a feeling of quiet panic at the back of her mind, something that not even Trancredi IV's sun could entirely quell. The feeling had been there ever since she had agreed to sign on with the Black Stars Mercenary Company. With every day that passed and as the arrival of the Black Stars neared, the feeling of panic had incrementally increased until she had been forced to attempt a bit of self-medication. Alcohol, naturally. Which had worked until her pocket money ran out about a week ago - alcohol was prohibitively expensive round here for some reason she hadn't yet fathomed. The natives seemed to be a cheerful enough bunch when sober, maybe that was the problem.

"Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun!" A voice called out and Kei turned to find the source. She spotted an elderly lady in the shade of a front porch, sitting on a rocking chair and staring at her rather disconcertingly.

"What?"

"You don't look much like an Englishman to me, dearie." the woman replied, gesturing for Kei to come closer.

"What?" repeated Kei, finding it a little difficult to follow the old womanâ€™s line of conversation. Walking over to where the old woman sat, a small table next to the rocking chair caught her eye. Or rather, what was on the table caught her eye - a crystal ball."Ah, fuck, here we go..." she thought, giving no external sign of that particular thought as she gave the old woman a warm smile by way of greeting.

"You look lost dear."

"No, I know where I-"

The old woman chuckled. "That's not what I meant! But take heart my child - this is your lucky day, Madame Zolandra can illuminate your path... what do you wish to know? This weekâ€™s lottery numbers? The next Solaris champion? Your true love? Or... does something else trouble you?" With a flourish the fortune teller rolled up her sleeves, moved the table with the crystal ball directly in front of her and gave Kei an expectant look.

Kei should have known better than to take a walk in the tourist district, like any other planet in the Sphere, it was full of people looking to make a fast buck at the offworlder's expense in some cheap and tacky way. It was a little less direct than bare-faced pick pocketing, but the end result was usually the same."I'm sorry, I don't have any money on me." she said, doing her best to look apologetic.

"Hah, no money! Don't think you can fool me child, I'm as old as I look and I know a Lyran accent when I hear one. Well, let's see what the fates have in store for you..." The fortune teller hunched low over the crystal ball, closed her eyes and began to make curious humming sounds.

The MechWarrior suppressed a grimace. The slight Lyran accent was something she hadn't been able to shake off since becoming a free woman. It bothered her, but she hadn't figured out if this was a good or bad thing yet. The Capellan reputation was something she could happily go without, but then Lyrans had a certain reputation of their own that wasn't entirely complimentary. Time would tell, she supposed.

Without looking up from the crystal ball, the fortune teller began to speak in hushed melodramatic tones."I see... I see... yes, you're definitely an offworlder... a soldier, maybe? Or a factory worker, some kind of manual labour..." Kei looked down at her own scarred hands. This woman certainly had a talent for the obvious, but it seemed she wasn't done yet. "Hrm... practically destitute, seems you weren't kidding about no money... guilt, I sense you feel guilty about something... but these are merely symptoms, what of the cause... ah. There is it's heart." The fortune teller paused, looked up and stared coldly into Kei's eyes for a moment before hissing, "Traitor.".

Kei almost reeled backwards in shock. A seemingly deafening silence followed. A thousand conflicting thoughts began running through her mind, one of the less ridiculous ones being that this fortune teller was actually a Maskirovka agent in disguise sent to kill her. How did she know?!

The fortune teller finally broke the silence. She seemed slightly embarrassed. "Alright, alright... if you just leave the amateur dramatics to me dear. I know I'm just a two-bit tourist hustling mystic but you don't need to go taking the piss out of an old woman now."

"But... how..."

The fortune teller rolled her eyes and produced a packet of cigarettes from somewhere in the folds of her robes. She lit one and inhaled deeply before offering a cigarette to Kei.

"Thanks." she said as she distractedly slid a cigarette from the packet. She still hadn't quite recovered.

"The crystal ball says you'll be alright dear...I think. Now, off you go then! Shoo!" The fortune teller waved her away and Kei happily obliged.

Well, that had certainly got to the crux of the matter, Kei thought to herself as she walked down the street. That had been her problem these past couple of weeks - she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that what she was doing was betraying the Confederation. Only now did she realise how much it had actually been bothering her. She could still be serving House Liao in a civilian capacity. Like the CCAF said, she couldn't fight anymore but... no, that's what they said, but that's not what they really meant. The real reason for her so called honourable discharge was that she couldn't be trusted anymore. Seven years was a long time to spend with the enemy, citizens have turned against the Chancellor for less, we just can't have you in a position where you would have access to sensitive intelligence... these were the undercurrents of the conversation she caught as she sat through her final debrief. It had taken all her restraint not to leap up and attack the debriefing officer.

A Lyran spy! A defector! Kei's lips twisted into a snarl at the thought of it. Yet here she was waiting on a mercenary company that - going by their reputation - knew no loyalty and would happily engage Capellan forces if the price was right. She was exchanging the Chancellor for the C-bill. Loyalty had been what sustained her through the long years in prision, and now she was just throwing it aside!

If it came to it, could she kill her fellow countrymen?

Kei took a long drag from the cigarette, grateful for the momentary distraction as the smoke of whatever filth the locals smoked filled her lungs. That feeling of panic was back now, stronger than ever.

January 29th, 3080
0500 hours
The Star Bar
Dolsonville
Tancredi IV
Federated Suns

Kei flicked the cigarette butt into the ashtray and let out a contented sigh. Alcohol, nicotene, a roof over her head. This was nice.

The Star Bar had to be the cheapest, most run down drinking establishment she had ever come across. The floors were sticky, the staff were mean, and you didn't have to wait long for a fight to break out across the room. Every single one of the patrons seemed to possess a handful of scars and concealed weaponry. The bouncersâ€™ weaponry was not so discreet. More importantly to Kei however, the Star Bar were selling out of date beer at vastly reduced prices. Apparently the health inspector was due to pay a visit in a couple of days. The idea that this place could pass a health inspection seemed impossible, but maybe the place seemed nicer during the daylight hours when it's shadier patrons skulked back to their respective pits.

A song that must have been at least forty years old came on. Kei grinned stupidly to herself. Her parents had probably danced to this song when they were teenagers. Now that she was drunk, thinking about her current predicament was much less daunting. She hiccupped and took another gulp of the worryingly off-colour beer. There was a definite green tinge to the stuff.

Oh sure, mercenaries were the scum of the earth that wouldn't know real loyalty if it smacked them in the face. They would do anything if the price was right. Real causes were the reason to take up arms - defending your homeland, protecting your family. Protecting the weak. Mercenaries were a perversion of all the things a real soldier stood for.

Kei smiled at her own hypocrisy. She had done things during her time with the CCAF that might make even a mercenary turn pale. In addition to those killed from the seat of her BattleMech, how many civilians had she ordered shot in cold blood during the St Ives war? Then there were the civilians killed by her own hand, and the interrogations... It might have been the norm for Capellan officers at the time - these civilians were potential terrorists after all - but she had enjoyed it. She had taken pride in her work. It was murder dressed up in the banner of the Capellan Confederation, but naked murder would have suited Kei just fine as well.

Killing was something she was good at, whether it was from hundreds of meters away or up close and personal. A slow death or a quick kill, she could find satisfaction in either. She had never really believed in the causes she fought for, it was all a smokescreen. She realised that now. The pretence of unthinking loyalty to the state had been easy back in the Confederation, it was as simple as breathing when surrounded by a thousand propaganda posters and slogans. Scratch the surface though, and there was nothing there. She was wrong to think that she was betraying the Capellan Confederation by becoming a mercenary - she had never really been loyal to them in the first place. It had more been a marriage of convenience than anything else.

Kei reached for the next bottle and twisted off the lid. She wondered just how out of date this beer was, and just how much lasting damage it was going to do to her liver.

Maybe becoming a mercenary wouldn't be so bad. She would have the opportunity to refine her skills, and the money to sustain that lifestyle. What else did she really want to be doing with her time? She was a killer, plain and simple. A few brief months of civilian life had shown her that much - just trying to fit in with civilians had been a daily chore. Maybe it's because she killed so many of them, Kei dryly thought to herself. As battered as her body was, she wasn't quite ready to hang up the neurohelmet and retire. Sure, she was missing a few feet of intestines, half a stomach and anything resembling morals, but she had a few battles left in her yet.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Quarter past five... in the morning. She had arrived a few hours ago and meant to leave when the bar closed, but it seemed the place didn't ever close. Lucky her.

A young man, quite obviously heavily inebriated caught her attention. It would have been hard not to notice him, the way he was stumbling through the bar, knocking everything over and singing happily to himself. With every table he passed, he firmly insisted the people join him in a toast. Kei was surprised nobody had swung a punch at him yet. Or killed him. Maybe this place was nicer than she thought. The young man reached her table and held his glass high in the air, spilling some of it in the process.

"A toast! A toast to my good fortune!" he slurred, swaying slightly on his feet. The young man smiled happily. "A toast!"

"What's the occasion?"

"I've been sponsored! I'm going to Solaris! Yippee!" The man giggled to himself and danced away, starting up the singing again. He was very happy. A bouncer laid a hand on the man's shoulder and gently led him outside.

"Cheers." Kei muttered to herself with a smile.

February 1st, 3080
00:30 hours Terran Standard
Cargo Spaces
Aboard the dropship â€œEvent Horizonâ€
Enroute to Tancredi IV
Transit Route System FS654-DC42

â€œJump Alertâ€¦. Secure for jump. Five minutes remain.â€ The recorded message rang out through the whole ship.

The two spacers looked at each other and nodded. â€œItâ€™s time.â€

Sitting cross-legged, the two secured themselves to the deck plates and removed their tunics, exposing large, swirling tattoos across their torsos. One of them took up a battered, leather-bound book while the other lit a small cone of incense.

â€œThree minutes to jumpâ€¦ Final preparations for jump commencing.â€

As the two spacers breathed deeply of the incense fumes, the hallucinogenic properties of the substance began to take effect on their perception of reality.

The one with the book, began to read, as if reciting holy scripture. It soon became apparent that he was doing just that, if not a scripture recognized by very many as valid.

â€œAnd God gave the Spice to man, so that his chosen vessels, the holy Navigators, would be able to lead man through the Void, to his chosen lands.â€

â€œThe Spice must flow!â€ The other spacer called in response to the lines being read.

â€œFor it was given to the Navigators to lead man through the pitfalls and distractions of the Void. Past the temptations of the enemy, and away from the worlds claimed by HIM.â€

â€œBlessed be the Navigators!â€

â€œThe Void is the gateway and the path, it leads to worlds both paradise and hell.â€

â€œBlessed be the Void.â€

â€œBut the Void is also the home of the enemy. HIS demons inhabit and infest it.â€

â€œCursed be the Enemy!â€

â€œGodâ€™s blessing shields those whole travel HIS path, and the Spice shows us the way.â€

â€œThe Spice must flow!â€

â€œPray thou, for the Navigator, for it is only through Godâ€™s gifts, may he guide the way.â€

â€œBlessed be the Navigator.â€

â€œOne Minute until jump. Securing all non-essential functions.â€

At this point, the two spacers began to mutter chants in a language that seemed an odd blend of Latin, Aramaic, and Tonal hums.

â€œJump in Five, Four, Three, Two, Jump!â€

February 8th, 3080
0022 hours, Local time
Good Snake, Dead Snake Bar & Eatery
Dolsonville
Tancredi IV
Federated Suns

Upon entering the â€œGood Snake, Dead Snakeâ€ (Shows you just how the planetary populace does not forget their unpleasant times under Draconis Combine occupation. The fact that Star Adders invaded the planet as well only recently just adds to the sentiment.) bar, Aina caught the familiar scent of alcohol, cigarette smoke, sweat, and other things best left undescribed that is common to bars everywhere, be it in the Inner Sphere or in clan space. The smell as least brought something more regular to life back to her.

While most Clanspeople of the warrior caste tend to abstain from anything that causes intoxication, some among them developed a liking to alcoholic drinks regardless. Aina did not drink much before her defeat on Kikuyu, but has taken to it to help her get over her current predication. At least, the numbing effect the alcohol has on the brain helped her forget more unpleasant things, as well as prevent her from contemplating how she fell from a Star Commander with a once-promising future to a dezgra mercenary with a freeborn child in tow.

Not that she really regretted the choices she made. Had she been given a chance to redo the past six years of her life, she would have done it all over again, the exact same way as she lived the past six years.

Taking a look inside the bar, she noticed that there is much of the usual crowd in the bar, a bunch of rowdy locals getting drunk off in one corner, a man of oriental descent she havenâ€™t seen before quietly sipping his drink alone in another corner, and some more miscellaneous customers being strewn among the many tables of the room. All in all, a rather quiet night, just the way she preferred it, especially since she does not feel like doing anything other than getting some drinks and then going right back to her hotel room, where little Diana is sleeping soundly at the moment.

She walked to the bar, and ordered a PPC (Davion variant. She never really liked the peppermint schnapps they use in the Steiner variant.), a drink with particularly high alcoholic content (Just what she needed right now) that is not something you want to down in one gulp. She took some tentative sips of the strong drink, before drinking off half of the drink in the glass quickly, shuddering slightly as she felt the â€œkickâ€ of the beverage. The â€œPPCâ€ does not have as much flavour as the Fusionnaire she preferred back in clan space, but it sure packs more of a kick, and she can already feel the tingling warmth spread through her entire body.

Right at that moment, as she was still savouring her drink, a meaty hand suddenly gripped her left shoulder.

â€œLookie hereâ€¦ *Burp* A little Clanner-bitch in the house. *Urp*â€

Even without turning around, she could tell that the man holding her was not only very intoxicated (Even if his speech did not give that out, the fact that Aina could smell his breath even though the man is behind her would have spelled that plain as day), but also that the man was bigger and taller than her by a good bit. Not that it matters. It does not matter how big the opponent is when heâ€™s drunk and youâ€™re not. Aina wasnâ€™t in the mood for a brawl though, not wanting to cause more issues before she secured her passage from the world with her employers, but if the man insistsâ€¦

â€œGet your hand off me, Freebirth, or I will make you wish you never had that hand to begin with.â€ It was neither a threat nor a bluff, just a plain and simple ultimatum. All that remains is to see if the drunk takes it seriously, which is something she doubt would happen. Oh well, she has learned that as long as she pays for some of the collateral damages, the bartender (and owner) of this establishment would just let her off without any hassle, and she still has some money with her.

â€œOo-boy. Little Clanner here got a mouth on h-â€œ

The big drunkard never managed to finished his sentence, for Aina suddenly stood up from her bar stool, grabbed his offending arm with both hands, and twisted it towards his back in a particularly painful manner. Despite his large size, the drunkard fell to his knees on the spot and flailed helplessly with his other arm to try grab a hold on Aina. It was an exercise in futility.

Aina simply applied pressure to the locked joints of the arm, which caused the drunk to squeal in pain like a pig being butchered.

Reacting to the pained cry of one of their own (Or just looking for an excuse to vent off some temper), several more customers stood up from their seats, and Aina soon found herself in the middle of a small crowd of drunk people who evidently have no love for the clans. She just sighed in resignation that she would not be able to spend the night in peace, and applied yet more pressure to the man she has in a lock before snapping a punch to the back of his neck, just hard enough to send the big man to the ground, unconscious for a good while at least.

Seeing one of their fellows down for the count, the crowd roared (unintelligibly) and charged at Aina. Most of them were drunk though, and there was little semblance of teamwork between them, which meant that they got in each otherâ€™s way very often and more often than not hit one of their own instead of her.

For her part, Aina just shook her head and comfortably ducked under a sloppy punch thrown by an equally drunk patron. In return, she slammed her fist right against the manâ€™s solar plexus, causing him to bend over in pain and vomit whatever he had for dinner on the floor. After that she calmly planted a kick on his backside, causing him to slip and fall into the mess he just created. More than one person slipped on the resulting mess as a bonus, but that is none of her concern.

Another drunk took a wild swing at her, one she easily avoided, resulting in the punch landing squarely on the face of another drunken patron, knocking him out cold with a broken nose to boot. The man that threw the punch looked at the one he just downed with a confused and apologetic look on his face, but soon joined his friend in sweet dreams when Aina took the chance to throw a right uppercut right against his chin.

One man played smart, and grabbed her in a bear-hug from behind, allowing another to give a good hit at her. She took the punch stoically, turning her head with the direction of the blow to lessen its impact, and kicked away the one that just punched her. Seizing the chance she created, Aina bent her neck forward, and then snapped her head back up, slamming the back of her head right against the face of the man holding her tight. The man let go of her, cupping his broken and bleeding nose with both hands while uttering all kinds of obscenities at her, but she cut him short with a one-two combination to his kidneys, before grabbing hold of one of the manâ€™s arms and threw him over her shoulder, right against his partner. Both men crumbled into a pitiful heap.

That left her with two other patrons still wanting some of her, and these two seemed to have consumed less alcohol compared to their compatriots. One of them used the opening she presented when she threw the earlier man to slam a wooden chair right against her back. Fortunately for her, the chair was a rather old one, and broke to pieces on impact, although it still hurt quite a bit. Aina nearly stumbled after receiving the blow, and she did fell after the other man planted a kick against her side.

Unlike the drunks she just beat up, Aina did not stay down, but rolled over and went right back up, shaking her head to clear some of the effects her earlier drink had on her. The two men stalked at her confidently, seemingly thinking that they had seized an advantage over the former Jade Falcon. They did not realize that they had just irked her more, and an irritated Jade Falcon is much more dangerous to your health than an uncaring one. Both men found out that little fact within the next few moments, very painfully, as Aina dislocated both shoulders of one man, and planted a knee right in-between the other manâ€™s legs, adding another kick to the pained region after the man went down for good measure.

Wiping the small trickle of blood that came from the corner of her lips where one of the drunks managed to punch her earlier, Aina turned towards the bartender, taking a short look at her surroundings as well. At least she did not break anything tonight, and the bartender just shook his head when she walked straight back to the bar (stepping on the backs of two of the men she knocked out along the way), downed the rest of her PPC, and ordered another one.

â€œHow much?â€ She asked.

â€œJust the drinks, girlie. You ainâ€™t broke nothing tonight.â€ The Bartender replied with a smile. At least tonightâ€™s brawl (and brawls have been rather common ever since the former Jade Falcon frequented his bar lately) did not force him to purchase much in terms of furniture, unlike the other brawls. â€œThe chairâ€™s on his tab.â€ He continued, pointing towards one of the unconscious patron littering the floor of the bar.

Vampire · « **Reply #3 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:03:35 AM »

8th Feburary 3080
Wilderness
Tancredi IV
Federated Suns

Loch resisted the urge to flinch as Sgt Major James "Bushwhack" Adams tore some poor unfortunately rating a new asshole for the condition of his weapon. Bushwhack snatched the gun from the recruit and began disassembling the gun in front of him.

"God help us all," Bushwhack screamed. "If I have to have you watch my back, I'm truly fucked. Hell, I wouldn't you guard my Mother's back, and I hate the bitch!"

He stripped the magazine. "How a dumbfuck like you passes for this unit surprises the shit out of me. If this is the level of trooper they're looking for, I'm going to find me another damn job. A gun like this isn't only a shame, it's a damn nightmare."

He rested the firearm in the cradle of his arms and began to slide rounds from the magazine. "One more time, Puke. I don't care if you are a RadioHead, you will learn how to take care of your weapon. Let's start here. Even a retard like you can understand how to clean a magazine."

Each round dropped in the mud. The last slid free, Bushwhack shoved the magazine up under Puke's nose, still screaming. "After you've removed the ammo, then you take your little kit there and start scrubbing. If you feel a little eager, and I assure you, you are eager, then you bend this little prong back and release the spring that makes sure you don't run out of ammo with a full clip. With me so far, Retard?"

Puke could only nod and watch in horror as Bushwhack dropped the magazine in the mud and stepped on it to push it deeper. He then removed the pin that kept the rifle together and threw the stock into Puke's hands. "Hold that."

He pushed a nub down and a spring flashed out, released from it's tension.

"After you've removed the Recoil assembly, you clean that." Bushwhack tossed the spring over his shoulder into a rather deep puddle.

"Now see this little piece right here. We call that the Trigger assembly. It's the part that makes the gun go boom. Even you should understand that."

Puke could only nod. Bushwhack continued his rampage. He finished removing the pieces, explaining the care of each piece before he either dropped it into the mud or flung the piece into the puddle. Loch did grimace as the barrel splashed loudly with a watery sound.

"Now that we have that settled, I want this cleaned up and shiny enough that I can read the tattoo on my ass." Then Bushwhack released a truly evil grin and Puke paled even further. Bushwhack looked around dramatically. "I want it cleaned up before chow and you owe me five miles for letting your gun get dirty."

Bushwhack turned on his heel and Puke dropped to his knees to reclaim the pieces before they sank deeper into the mire.

A throaty chuckled from beside him caused him to turn to his right. Lt. Rachael Young was in command of the foot portion of Loch's new unit. They had both agreed that, while
Loch was the senior officer, he would keep his nose out of Young's business when it came to running her unit.

"Bushwhack definitely has a way with words, doesn't he?" Her blue eyes danced with humor.

Young was almost too beautiful for the soldiery life that she had chosen for herself. Her brown hair topped a finely chiselled face. Blue eyes, pale complexion and pouty lips were directly from smutty holomags that Loch had seen at a news kiosk. Her frame tended towards slimness, but definitely filled out through the constant exercise and physical labour. What that did to her legs, hips and breasts was something that a command officer didn't need to think about a fellow officer he had to work closely with.

At least she didn't wear perfume. Loch was sure that would have driven him over the edge into downright lust.

"I've noticed that. He certainly has a strong method of motivating others."

Rachael waved a hand in a bushing motion, "That's why I brought him along. Puke's gun wasn't that dirty. Certainly nothing that would have jammed it up. But, Bushwhack insists on a little principle called, pour encourager l'autres ."

Loch raised an eyebrow and Rachael chuckled. Loch was definitely going to have to tone down the hormones. Things were starting to get a little uncomfortable a certain nether region.

"To encourage the others, loosely translated from old French. Poor Puke just became an object lesson for the whole company to learn from."

Loch nodded and quirked an eyebrow, "Why do you call him Puke?"

Another throaty chuckle, "No mystery really. Poor fuck lost his lunch in his first 10 minutes of Zero G."

Loch echoed the chuckled and Rachael moved away, those hips swaying from one side to the other.

"Two hot chicks in a little tin can here, damn I love this job."

Loch turned to find Gusty with his hands in his pockets and his ugly face parted in a grin and cigar. Loch should have smelled the smoke, but Rachael had distracted him.

"We're not here for the scenery, Gusty." Loch tried to cover his unbalanced composure.

Gusty removed his cigar, tapped the ash off and blew a smoke ring.

"I know that ser, But having something to look at besides your sour mug is a definitely perk to the job, doncha think?"

Gusty shoved the cigar back into his mouth at a jaunty angle.

"Did Ms. Treauxclair get those glitches fixed?"

Gusty's face slipped a little from his normal humour.

"Aye she did. But Rhi is pretty talented, do we really need to be this hard on her?"

"Gusty, you know the answer to that. These farmboys here, " Loch waved his arm across the group. "We can handle it if they break in battle. Ms. Treauxclair, however, we don't have that luxury. Besides you and me, she's got the most important job. Coordinating communications between Ms. Young's boys and girls and HQ. I need to know how much metal there is under that pretty little face."

Gusty nodded. He wasn't happy, Loch could tell that, but he knew the younger man was right.

"Yer right ser, I just find it hard to be mean to a pretty thing like that."

Loch cracked a rare grin, "That's nature's defense. If they were ugly we wouldn't worry about beating them like we do the men."

Gusty chuckled and walked back to the Maxim. Rhi was painting the "Nose Art" on the hover. "Bad Penny" Again, Loch chuckled. Bad luck, true, but bad luck for anyone who came in contact with his little band of brigands.

February 10th, 3080
14:00 Hours, Local Time
Black Star Cell Offices
Aboard Dropship: â€œEvent Horizonâ€
Starport, Tancredi IV

David pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed after reading the reports. He understood better than most that the Black Stars would take almost anyone. But in certain cases, he wondered if MAYBE that policy might be more trouble than it was worth.

Looking up, he stared at the two new members of the unit that waited silently on the other side of his desk.

After a few moments, he spoke softly, but none who heard him could mistake his mood. â€œKei Gar-Xinconâ€¦ formerly of the Capellan forcesâ€¦ hmmm, 2nd CDF during the war, and then the Red Lancersâ€¦. an impressive history.â€

He grunted and set down the file. â€œImpressive and irrelevant. Who you WERE does not matter, unless you MAKE it matter. Information about you from other sources also names you a cold blooded killer and borderline sociopath with no regard for lifeâ€¦ even your ownâ€¦ that should probably be spending the next decade or so as an inpatient for some serious therapy. We donâ€™t particularly care about that either, so long as it doesnâ€™t interfere with your duties.â€

David leaned back in his chair. â€œWeâ€™ve seen your type before. So lost in your own pain that you canâ€™t see past it anymore. Death the only thing that brings a momentâ€™s respiteâ€¦ Yours, theirs, it no longer matters, does it?â€

As Kei began to open her mouth to respond, David snapped at her. â€œAn answer is NOT required! Just sit and listen!â€

â€œNow, where was I? Oh yesâ€¦ As I was saying, weâ€™ve seen your type before. Ones with your skills usually cut a rather impressive swath before they fall.â€

He shrugged, clearly indifferent to her ultimate fate. â€œOnes like you come to us to die. They might not think of it like that, but it remains a truth anyway. Well, fortunately for all of us, we are fairly likely to find you a place where you can do exactly that. The only question that remains, is if you can keep yourself under control enough to choose the right time to kill, and the right time to die.â€

David stared at her, fixing her with coldly emotionless eyes. â€œWeâ€™ll find you enemies to kill, and maybe a place to die. But lose yourself and endanger the unit, or draw on a fellow â€˜Starâ€¦ well, that would be a mistake you would regret for a very LONG time.â€

David sat back in his chair, and gazed calmly at Kei. â€œSee Glen about your billeting and such, heâ€™ll make sure you are introduced to all the right people.â€ He tapped one of the folders on his desk top. â€œMake sure one of the stops is Medical for a complete workup.â€

Again, Kei began to open her mouth to object, and again, David cut her off. â€œDonâ€™t bother! I donâ€™t want to hear it! Everyone gets a physical when they join, Period! No physical, no contract, that simple!â€ He smiled coldly. â€œUnless youâ€™d rather walk now? No? Very well thenâ€¦ Oh, and donâ€™t worry, it doesnâ€™t matter what he finds. We donâ€™t care what you have unless itâ€™s contagious, or how screwed up you are inside. He just needs to know, so that if he ever has to treat you, heâ€™s not playing guessing games.â€

He nodded towards the hatch. â€œDismissed.â€

David waited until Kei had left the compartment, and turned to face the remaining new recruit. Taking a deep breath, he looked her square in the eyes. â€œAina, formerly of the Jade Falconsâ€¦ Abtahka to the Lyran Commonwealth. Now released from bond and looking to become a mercenary.â€

He looked amused. â€œHow far the falcon has fallenâ€¦ from Trueborn Ristar to dezgra mercenary dragging a freeborn child aroundâ€¦.â€ He chuckled softly. â€œIF that is how you see yourself, then all we can offer you is the same as THAT fading spark.â€ He motioned towards the hatch where Kei had just exited. â€œIf service as Sohlama is what you seek, you may find it here.â€

He leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers, steel against flesh. â€œIF, however, you reject such foolishness, and seek to rise to the skies once againâ€¦ we just might be able to give you a start.â€

â€œWe care not about your Clan, or Kerenskyâ€™s ways here. Live them as you wish, or not, we donâ€™t careâ€¦ what we DO care about is how you treat your new comrades here, and if you can be trusted with our backs. Dezgra mercenaries your folk call us, even others of our own kind think the Black Stars just shy of pirates.â€

David shrugged. â€œSo be it. We care nothing for otherâ€™s opinions, in fact we relish them. LET fools consider us such, the underestimate us at their own cost. Mercenaries we may be, and many of us haveâ€¦ unfortunate things in our pasts, but we are loyal to our own, and we give honest service in exchange for honest coin.â€

Leaning forward, David spoke intently. â€œWe know your sort here as wellâ€¦ Proud, touchy, and quick to anger. Fallen so very far, all you have left is your pride and your heritage. Let any scorn either, and beware your rage.â€

He picked up another folder. â€œThe local constabulary has â€œRequestedâ€ that you remain aboard for the remainder of our time on this planet. For some reason, they grow tired of picking up after you.â€ He smiled slightly, amused. â€œFor some reason, they donâ€™t want you in their jail, however, I wonder why?â€

Training Fields
Tancredi IV
Federated Suns
February 10th, 3080
1430 Hours, Local Time

Zi Long stood behind Bradon as the targeting data streamed across the consoles of the massive C3 Master computer. Fed with information from the C3 slaves installed on both the newly acquired C3 slave equipped new generation Pegasus scout hovertank and the salvage Mantueffel Omni Attack Tank salvaged from Novo Franklin, Zhao's eyes lit up as he glimpsed at the advantage their new toys promised to bring to the Sharp Shooters.

The Black Stars Captain glanced at his chrono and grinned slightly. David should have finished the briefing to the two newest recruits to the Stars. It was not that he would not like to meet the ladies face to face, but that his XO had a much better way with such things that he could ever hope to be. Worst still, if they were pretty little things, Zi Long was not sure he might not be unprofessionally distracted.

He was glad he was here for the first run of the C3 network integration for the Sharp Shooters. He was certain that there would be not problems with the Pegasus, as it was fresh off the Scarborough Manufacturers production lines on Al Naâ€™ir. A proven manufacturer of combat hover tanks, the latest generation of Pegasus had been more than well received.

The Mantueffel was another matter altogether. Salvaged from the Rossi's Armoured Legion, they did not have the machine's background nor history. Master Tech Wedge Donovan and his increasingly competent crew had given it the usual go through and declared it completely operational. For some reason, they had felt great unease while working on it. Zi Long was just happy that he had gotten in his possession such a powerful war machine to supplement his Sharp Shooters. Wedge had also handed over to Zi Long a medallion linked to a silver chain he found in the tank. Some strange inscriptions where found on it. Zi Long did not have the time to find out what it read, but it was unique and nice enough that he did not mind pulling it over his neck.

He looked at the data of the other two C3 linked vehicles on display before him. Both were operating on optimum efficiency in the first shake down run under the Black Stars. The Pegasus was darting across the landscape, tagging dummy targets for the other two machines in the Sharp Shooters. With its above average ground speed compared to other tracked vehicles, the Mantueffel was able to close in quickly into optimum weapons range in its newly installed Prime Omni kit and savaged the target from extreme range with its rotary autocannon and extended range medium lasers as if the target was in close range. The Morningstar itself was also able to hit the designated targets with enhanced accuracy. The combination of the C3 network, onboard targeting computer and the marksmanship of Frederick "Sniper" Jones made the Morningstar's Mydron Excel Autocannon 10 deadlier than ever.

The target they were hitting now was a mock Atlas assault 'Mech. Frederick fired a full burst of armour piercing rounds into the computer generated image of the hundred ton monster at a range of four hundred and fifty meters - the absolute maximum for the heavy autocannon. The Mantueffel added further damaged by triggering a full burst of rounds from its rapid fire rotary autocannon at a distance of about four hundred meters, before utilizing its impressive speed to close another ninety meters to inflict a triple blast of extended range medium laser shots. The target quickly registered severe damage on the fake Atlas. Armour had been peeled open on the assault machine's chest and arms. Zi Long was about to order the units to close in for the kill when eight short range missiles and multiple needles of laser beams plummeted onto the stricken target - eating at simulated internals of the make believe war machine before exploding the heart of any BattleMech - the fusion power plant embedded deep in its chest.

He had nearly forgotten that despite its primary role as a scout unit, the Pegasus, in all its incarnation, had always possessed more than respectable firepower. The Sharp Shooters would be a deadly foe to any enemies, either on their own, or as part of the Black Stars.

Another bonus Zi Long had picked up was recruiting a group of veteran crew - both in experience and age, from the recruitment halls of Terra. Tim Larson, Jack Brown, Leo Buscema and Nora Webster used to be under the employment of the Free Worlds League, and part of the 3rd Free Worlds Legionnaires. Before the alliance between the League and Capellan Confederation in nearly 3050s, these crewmen were dropped onto the Liao planet of Renown in their Pegasus to incite the inhabitants against their Liao leaders. Although they convinced several groups to revolt, most of the populace remained loyal. The rebellion fizzled out, and Brown Buscema and Webster were imprisoned.

The night before his crewmen's execution, Larson drove his Pegasus in a daring raid against the keep of the planetary governor. After rescuing the crew, Larson bombarded the keep. The Pegasus easily outdistanced the keep's garrison, and the crew remained hidden for two months until its DropShip picked them up. Already considered highly experienced in the 3040s, they had steadily built up an impressive resume by the 3070s. However, like many Federal troops, their loyalty were torn between the League itself and their province. Rather than getting involved in the bloody Civil War that was sure to come, they left the Free Worlds League Military and went mercenary.

The crew for the Manteuffel was of similar background. Members of the Avalon Hussars, they were part of the seven regimental combat teams that took significant damage during the FedCom Civil War, with its units fighting for both sides in almost every major battle. Like their Marik counterparts, the crew grew disillusioned with fighting against their own brethren as well as the massive destruction inflicted on their home lands and left the employment of the sundered Federated Commonwealth.

"Great work people. Let's go home for debrief." Zi Long grinned.

"Shooter One, we seem to have a problem here." Larry Williams, the tank commander reported even as the seventy ton machine swung towards Zi Long's Morningstar. "There's this strange sound..." A sudden sharp screech like that of twisting metal emitted, before a burst of static filled the frequencies, followed by screams from the crew.

"What the f...." Zi Long looked at Brandon in shock before turning towards Louie in the driver's seat. "Move it! Get over there!" The Chinese man turned back towards Brandon. "Get the doc and his people in asap!"

Vampire · « **Reply #4 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:04:32 AM »

February 10th, 3080
1430 hours, Local time
Medical Bay
Aboard Dropship: â€œEvent Horizonâ€
Tancredi IV
Federated Suns

â€œWell, you seem fit enough... Then again... You Clanners almost never need me unless there's some patching up to do, don't you?â€ Kaplan Bowles said after finishing his workup on Aina, finding surprisingly much fewer things of note from a combat personnel (and a Clanner at that) excepting the expected scar or ten.

â€œAff. You could consider it that way.â€

â€œ*Sigh* Fine, now your little girl. EVERY person who joins the stars gets a medical workup, S.O.P.â€

â€œAff. I have understood as such. Diana, you will follow this man's instructions, quiaff?â€

â€œAff, mother.â€ Said the little girl obediently, earning a raised eyebrow from Kaplan Bowles. Aina herself has become used to that, for it seems not many Inner Spheroids are familiar with the fact that the clans drilled discipline into their young from very early.

â€œWould you mind me asking something personal? Nothing official mind you, just curious.â€ Said the doctor as he checks Diana's blood pressure.

â€œNeg. Go ahead.â€

â€œI had thought you Clanners have an... aversion to pregnancy and childbirth.â€

â€œAff. That is correct, but only among the trueborn of the warrior caste. Those of other castes procreate via strategic choice of partners.â€

â€œWhat led you to have a child then?â€

â€œDiana is born to carry on the genetic legacy of a man I respected. He was the first one to ever defeat me in combat in the field of honour. Could I do otherwise and let his legacy disappear from the gene pool?â€

â€œErr... So you're saying you had a child with that man just to allow him to pass on his genes?â€

â€œAff. That is so.â€

â€œNo feelings for one another?â€

â€œNeg, other than mutual respect from one warrior to another, I have no other particular feelings for him.â€

Kaplan Bowles shook his head, part in disbelief. â€œI will never understand you Clanners.â€

â€œThe sentiment goes both ways. I still find many of your habits and culture to be odd... and wasteful more often than not.â€

â€œHeh. Trust a Clanner to say that. Anyway, your girl's fine as well, now I still got more appointments and work to do today, so, shoo.â€

Not saying any further word, Aina stood up and turned to leave the room. Behind her, three-year-old Diana followed her as best she could on her little legs.

1452 hours, Local time
Crew Quarters
Aboard Dropship: â€œEvent Horizonâ€

Replaying her earlier encounter with the man named Glen, Aina felt both somewhat relieved to see a fellow former Clanner on board the ship (and part of the outfit), and a slight worry. Glen, the former Snow Raven (and an odd one at that, he looks almost like someone tried to breed an elemental and an aerospace pilot together), was amicable enough, and seems to have accepted his position in the mercenary outfit, although she has no idea what to think of at the mention of another former clansman, a Goliath Scorpion, also being part of the mercenary outfit.

While she has nothing against either the Ravens or the Scorpions, Aina cannot help but feel a little discomfort at the thought of a Goliath Scorpion, decidedly one of the oddest clans amongst them all, trusting in some â€œdreamsâ€ or â€œvisionsâ€ almost like the Nova Cats, and their intoxicating agent of choice being nothing less potent than scorpion venom. Those facts alone would cause any person, much less a Clanner, to feel some discomfort.

As the door to her assigned quarters opened, she noticed one thing right away: The quarters was completely empty, and judging from the state it is in, has been empty for at least a year, not that it surprised her by any means, since she judged that the entire mercenary outfit would not fill much more than half of the Seeker-class DropShip's cabins. At least that meant she could put Diana on a bed of her own for the time being, until they decide to assign her a roommate.

Entering the room itself though, Aina felt as if something just brushed past her, yet a quick look around shows that she and Diana are the sole occupants of the empty room. She also felt an uneasiness for some reason she could not fathom, but discarded it for some nervousness of accepting her status as a dezgra mercenary in an outfit considered dezgra even by their own peers. Diana on the other hand, looks around the room in a rather excited manner, something she does not comprehend, for the room was not only empty, but was spartan in its arrangement. Two bunks off to the side and a small desk with a chair, and a further door that she presumed to lead to the shower and toilet.

Setting down the rucksack that she used to carry what few personal possessions she has, she laid down on one of the bunks, finding it hard and unyielding, just the way she preferred them. From what she has seen of the mercenary outfit so far, she felt that she would most likely find her path here. The executive officer of the outfit that interviewed her earlier comes immediately to mind. While his words definitely stung, she found that she liked the man's demeanour, for that bluntness and harshness reminded her of her old falconer back in the clans. Yes, she decided, she can definitely work together with people like those.

Then there is the fact that the mercenary outfit seems to run differently than most. She was informed that she would have to earn her own pay with her own two hands, and have full command on building her own â€œSub-unitâ€ as they called it with her own money. That is a good thing. It would provide her the command authority she is used to, while freeing her to put her old idea (which was mocked back when she spoke about it in the clan homeworlds as â€œunfitâ€ for the frontline) to reality.

Of course, for now all those were no better than the intoxicated dreams of a drunk. She still has no more than a little money with her â€“ what is left from the amount Tyler left for her and Diana â€“ and no more than a single light Mech â€“ which she only gets to use because she loaned it from Harding â€“ to call her own. It would be a long, arduous path ahead, but Aina felt perfectly certain that she would be able to overcome whatever obstacles presented themselves before her.

â€œI was Jade Falcon...â€ She muttered silently, too quiet for anyone to hear. â€œAnd now I have fallen from the skies... Yet we do not linger and wait for death... We remain birds of prey, wary be those who cross our path...â€
------

Alice sat on one of the stairs, noteputer in hand. She had been ruminating off and on about what to write to her father. Below her were seven people seated around the table enjoying a game of poker. Bubba Joe and Billy Ray were there, and so was Darnell. The other four men were from the jump ship crew. She would stop every now and then, and watch the game for a moment and then going back into thought about the best way to tell her father about everything she'd seen and done so far. How do you explain to your father that you helped take lives even if it was in combat?

Her dad was a peaceful man, by no means straight but a peaceful man. So explaining the violence was proving very difficult. How do you explain the atrocities youâ€™ve seen and the nightmares that you are having from them? Alice realized that she had changed. During her thoughts, she had come to accept the fact she had changed. Not as bright-eyed and eager to be out here as she first was. And it had not even been two years yet.

She was a lot wiser than she was when she left Diamantina. She was more worldly now in a universal sort of way. She knew everything wasnâ€™t black and white, but now she had better definitions of what gray really was. The mercenary lifestyle that she had adopted was much different than her former one as a bush pilot tour guide and moonshine smuggler. But the skills she had learned back home doing those had been serving her very well with the Black Stars.

Now they were en route to their next contract out in another far corner of the periphery. A planet called Nibo. She had never heard of it before, most of the rest of the crew hadnâ€™t either. The drop ship crews had been feverishly busy working and reworking the cargo bays configuring them for new equipment. For what equipment she didnâ€™t know yet. The flight Sims that they had been running for the last few weeks was also introducing the concepts of bombing. Bombing was something that she hadn't done before officially. She did remember one summer when she was able to take a few trips with the forestry department during a firefighting mission. The pilot Doug had been doing water drops on the fire when she had gone along with him. She had been interested in him at that point in time. But he was too straight laced for her, not accepting of anything that wasnâ€™tâ€™ 100% true and legal, which was different from the lifestyle that she led.

Alice was shaken out of her thoughts by what was transpiring below her. The friendly poker game had broken out into a fight. How she didnâ€™t know, but it was already underway when she noticed it. Four on three, as usual the Black Stars were underdogs. Under, but not out. If she had somebody to bet with she probably would have placed a bet on the Black Stars seeing as both Bubba Joe and Billy Ray were there and she knew both of them were good fighters given all the practice they had and they were definitely giving a good accounting of themselves.

She watched as one of the jump ship crew laid a hard right cross on Darnellâ€™s jaw. She swore she saw his eyes just roll up in his head as he hit the deck. But Bubba Joe and Billy Ray had already taken one member down. A tag team of a low blow kick follow by a shin to the side of the jaw had put one of the jump ship crew down hard. Just after that two of the jump ship crew teamed up and took on Bubba Joe. This left a one on one fight for Billy Ray. Of course this would have been a lot closer to a fair fight if this had been going on at close to standard gravity. The gravity here on this deck was running at about one third standard and the JumpShip crew was taking full advantage of their ability to work in this environment. The tag team on Bubba Joe was paying off. He was already having problems trying to fight in this light gravity. So after repeated pummelling and kicks, he looked like he was almost unconscious on his feet. That was when he managed to grab a hold of one of them in a head lock and slam his head into the side of a cargo crate. He was also able to follow it up with a punch to the groin of his other adversary. Unfortunately that crew member managed to get his knee up to the side of Bubba Joeâ€™s head. So they managed to take themselves out at the same time landing on the deck in a heap.

This left Billy Ray as the sole Black Star standing with the last jump ship worker. Billy Ray was starting to lose that fight as well. He seemed to be favouring his left side after a serious collision with a crate. The Jump ship worker closed in to finish him off. Moments later the two of them were grappling on the deck. The Jump ship worker, a freight handler, was starting to rabbit punch him hard on his left side exacerbating the injury. He stopped long enough to give Billy Ray one of those â€œYour mine now looksâ€ as he raised the freight wrench up over his head.

Unable to move and barely able to breathe Billy Ray laid there watching as if in slow motion as the wrench was raised. He knew it was aimed for his head. He then watched the man jerk almost as if in an epileptic seizure before collapsing on top of him. Billy Ray looked up through his blurred vision to see Alice standing there. It took a moment for him to register the small black box in her hand. And the brief electrical spark that leapt between the two probes sticking out of it. He just grinned.

Aliceâ€™s letter would be put on hold for a while. She had to get her team mates to the doc back on the drop ship.

She finished the letter to her dad later along with the cash transfer to help him out.

February 10th, 3080
15:00 Hours,
Crew Quarters
Event Horizon
Starport, Tancredi IV
Federated Suns

Unceremoniously dumping the bag that contained that contained all of her worldly possessions onto the floor, Kei began to take stock of her surroundings. Two bunks and a metal bulkhead; so this was going to be her home for the indefinite future.

Cramped was the first word that came to mind. Dirty socks littered the floor and a half-eaten sandwich rested on a bedside table. From the general state of disarray the room was in, she guessed would be sharing the place with someone else. Judging by the smattering of scantily clad women plastered across the walls, that someone else was probably male. No matter - as long as her bunkmate didn't snore, they would be getting along just fine.

She caught her reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall. A dark haired woman with an impassive look on her face stared back .She was obviously of Chinese descent, although there looked to be some Caucasian mixed in there as well. She looked deceptively young for her age - closer to late twenties than late thirties. Kei pulled a face and turned away from the mirror.

There hadn't been much chance for her to assess Ten-Bears during the 'interview'. The man had been completely blunt though, so it probably wasn't going to take her too long to figure him out .It seemed Ten-Bears already had her figured out though. The fact that the man had one over on her made her slightly uncomfortable.

"Borderline sociopath," she muttered to herself as she bent down to unpack her things "Huh." Come to think of it maybe it was a fairly accurate label. After all, war had been her business since the tender age of sixteen. After twenty years of it she had undoubtedly changed in many ways, but an overabundance of respect for life was probably not one of those changes.

Reaching inside her bag, she carefully removed the combat shotgun that had been nestled amongst the clothes and other sundries. Nothing like being prepared, she thought as she securely fastened the shotgun to the underside of her bunk.

After this she was scheduled to take a trip down to the med bay for her medical. When that was over, maybe she'd go down to the DropShips 'Mech bays and have a peek at what kind of kit the Black Stars were sporting. Beyond that, it was probably going to be a long long wait before any combat assignments came up. Weeks of endless games of chess loomed before her. This wasn't entirely different from being back in prison, she thought. Except her cell had been substantially bigger than this room, and it didn't smell of stale DropShip.

Hopefully her bunkmate liked chess.

February 10th, 3080
18:00 Hours,
Medical Bay
Event Horizon
Starport, Tancredi IV
Federated Suns

"You'll be the new sociopath then?" Doctor Bowes said, not looking up from the papers Kei had just handed him.

"Honestly doc, I don't know why everybody keeps calling me that." the Capellan said with a smile.

"And a liar too it seems. But you're a Cap, so I expect that kind of thing. I've just had five well-steamed corpses land on my plate today, so having you lie to me about how many cigarettes you smoke a day will be a pleasure in comparison. I'm Dr Bowes." Bowes gestured to a nearby bed. "If you'll take a seat over there, we can get this charade over with."

Kei sat down on the bed and waited while Bowes dug around his office for a pen."Well-steamed? What the hell happened to them?"

"Freak accident down on the range. A gasket blew in one of the tanks. If the hatch had been open the crew might still be here, but it wasn't. Turned the thing into one big pressure cooker. Boiled 'em right up... not the nicest of ways to go. But it was a pretty quick death, I expect."

"How comforting." Kei hoped this incident wasn't indicative of the rest of the Black Stars equipment and it's reliability. Bowes seemed pretty calm about the whole thing, which was arousing her suspicions."That kind of thing isn't normal round here, is it?"

"If it was I wouldn't have said 'freak' accident. Now say aaah."

"Right. You just don't seem that bothered."Kei opened her mouth."Aaaah."

"They had only just signed on and I didn't really know any of them yet. These things happen."Bowes took a look inside her mouth and noted something down on the chart. "You can close your mouth now. I'm going to guess I should put a tick in the smoking and drinking boxes? Not many round here that don't have at least one of those boxes filled in."

"Guilty as charged. Go right ahead and fill those boxes in doctor."

"What a surprise." The doctor ran through text of the chart with his pen, talking to himself under his breath. "We can skip that part, blah blah.... two arms, check. Two legs, check. Eyes, yes. You're not pregnant are you? No? Good... Well, by the looks of those scars, you've been around the Mechjock block. Any debilitating injuries or disabilities I should know about?"

Kei grimaced at the doctor and lifted her shirt to reveal a heavily scarred and mutilated abdomen."Does this count?"

"Yikes. What happened there, Cap?"

It was a bit of a sore spot for her. It had happened while she was still with the CCAF - on what was to be her last mission with them - on a solo recon mission in Steiner held territory. She had run into an unchartered minefield which practically blew the legs out from under the Locust she was piloting, simultaneously taking the 'Mech out of commission and knocking it to the ground. When Lyran troops showed up to investigate, a firefight had naturally ensued. Kei had been doing a pretty good job of defending herself from the cockpit with only a pistol, until the Lyrans had rolled a grenade into the cockpit .The command chair had only provided a limited amount of cover and a moment later she was holding in her guts with her hands.

"I fell down some stairs." Kei replied dryly.

"What, while wrestling with a combine harvester?" Bowes began to gently prod the area with his fingers. "What's the damage on the inside like?"

"I'm missing half a stomach and a bit of large intestine...nothing important doc. It was Lyrans that patched me up though, so who knows what else the bastards helped themselves to and fenced while I was down and out?"

"Quite. I guess you're not so good at the all you can eat buffets anymore, huh?" The doctor paused, giving her papers a final once over. "That's everything I need for now. Any questions?"

"What made you sign up with a merc unit?"Kei asked."You could be earning megabucks in some cushy civilian hospital. Instead you're running around the Sphere chasing after accident prone mercenaries. Surely itâ€™s not worth whatever they're paying you."

"I could ask you the same thing, but I think I already know the answer. Maybe I'm not a very good doctor, you ever think of that?"Bowes gave her a quizzical look. "The vast majority of us put up with this lifestyle because fate screwed us over somehow. The rest, I don't trust their motives. Now unless you have any proper questions..."

"Hey, where do you keep the morphine?" Kei asked with a grin.

"Get lost, Cap."

Black Star Cell Office
Aboard Dropship: â€œEvent Horizonâ€
Starport, Tancredi IV
Federated Suns
February 10th, 3080
1630 Hours, Local Time

"There was NO WAY that could've happened." Wedge was explaining to Zi Long. By the time Zi Long got to the Mauteuffel, it had stopped dead in its tracks, with Larson and the crew of the Pegasus already they and trying to pry open the hatch. Despite their best efforts, the tank remained buttoned up. It took Wedge and a pair of as-techs with a blow torch to cut the hatch open.

Thick pillars of white steam burst from the tank as the hatch cover was thrown aside. Zi Long and Wedge looked in to find all five crewmen had been literally cooked alive. It took a half hour to tow the tank back to their own bays and for Wedge to go through the Mantueffel. It turned out that a gasket had blown itself, redirecting superheated steam into the crew compartment.

Zi Long looked at the ridiculously freakish report before him, a hand playing on the pendant than hung across his neck. "Just give it the run through again Wedge, I don't want the same thing to happen again."

"There was NO WAY this should have happened in the first place." Wedge murmured as he turned and walked out of the room.

Zi Long stared at the report for a while more, before turning to the noteputer on the desk. Time to find another crew...

February 24th, 3080
1002 hours, Local time
Simulator Room
Aboard Dropship: â€œEvent Horizonâ€
On Transit
Federated Suns

Aina brought her loaned TLN-5W Talon into a full-speed gallop across the frozen field, its steps steady and certain despite the slippery surface. Despite her never having piloted one of these Mechs before, and Aina found herself adjusting quickly to the 35-ton light Mechâ€™s more humanoid gait, despite the fact that her previous piloting experience only consisted of reverse-jointed Mechs with a characteristic bird-like gait. All in all, she found that the light Mech she loaned is a marvel of war engineering, and surprising considering its Inner Sphere origins. She had not thought the spheroids to be capable of producing a machine that could match a clan-made one in quality.

Yet match a clan machine in quality it did. The Talonâ€™s speed profile and armament reminded her of the clan-made Ice Ferret OmniMech, both capable of achieving a top speed of 129.6 kilometres per hour, and both relying on an Extended Range Particle Projector Cannon as its main weapon. The Talon did not possess the Streak SRM launcher used by the Ice Ferret as a secondary weapon though, mounting a pair of Medium Lasers in its place, giving it comparable firepower with the clan mech. She found that she liked she Inner Sphere machine, although nowhere near the degree she liked the raw firepower possible in her old Stormcrow.

Sitting quietly on her motherâ€™s lap, and jogged around slightly whenever the Mechâ€™s feet lands on the ground during its high-speed run, little Diana watched in amazement as the sight of the simulated icy tundra passes by to the point that she would miss seeing many things should she blink. The little girl was excited, to her it was a break in the monotonous life on a DropShip, and she had nothing much to do, being the only child on board the ship. Her mother did take up the role usually taken by the caretakers and instructors back in the clan homeworlds, and taught her all the basic things people should know about, at least as far as her three-year-old mind could comprehend, but outside the â€œstudyâ€ hours there was little to do other than wander about the ship.

This ride inside the simulator pod together with her mother is a brand new experience for her, and the sight of the scenery passing by at nearly a hundred and thirty kilometres per hour naturally excited the little girl. Then her clear green eyes â€“ something she definitely inherited from her mother â€“ caught sight of something in the distance. She could not be sure of what it is, it being far away and little more than a silhouette on the horizon, but then a part of the image on the screen enlarged itself, thus allowing her to notice that the things she saw looked like four toy figures, three resembling a man, and another one looking like a weird, long-legged and wingless bird. Little Diana thought them to be somewhat familiar for some reason â€“ and they are, for she has seen things like them on the vid broadcasts her mother used to prefer to show her on their free time.

A cold smile formed on Ainaâ€™s lips as she noticed the four Mechs silhouetted against the horizon. Training with a Mech she never piloted before, she had programmed the computer to select four Mechs at random from a weight range of plus/minus twenty ton, and it appeared that it had done just that. She recognized the very characteristic figure of a Locust by sight, which the computer verified, tagging the 20-ton Mech as a LCT-1M, the long-range missile using variant if she recalls correctly. The other two Mechs are also ones she recognized without needing the computerâ€™s assistance in identification, a WSP-1A3 Wasp and a WLF-2 Wolfhound, but she had to look at the display to properly identify the fourth Mech, which is tagged as a WFT-1 Wolf Trap.

Under most conditions, a clan MechWarrior would go straight to the Wolf Trap and challenge the pilot of that Mech to a duel, seeing it as the most worthy opponent, but Aina has learned that to survive, she would have to do the exact opposite, and act like how natural predatory animals act: Aim for the weak links of the herd, the old, the sick, and the young. That is precisely what she had in mind when she pushed her Mech into an oblique approach against the opposing four Mechs.

Both the Wolf Trap and the Locust unleashed ten long-range missiles a piece at her, but none of the missiles came even close to hitting the speeding Talon. The enemy Wolfhound added its Extended Range Large Laser into the mix as she came a little bit closer, and missed her just by a single step. In return, she dropped her right-hand crosshairs right on the centre of the LCT-1M Locust, knowing well that the little Mech is the most fragile out of the four, and she triggered her own ER PPC in return, sending a slight wave of her through the cockpit which dissipated soon afterwards. Her shot struck true, and the man-made charged bolt of ionized particle slammed right against the very poorly armoured side of the Locust, burning a neat hole through the armour and right into the inside of the light mech. She must have touched the ammunition bin with that shot, for the Locust exploded like a bit of fireworks right afterwards.

Diana laughed happily in her seat on her motherâ€™s lap. The exchange of shots between the Mechs were to her little more than a beautiful display of lights and fireworks, and she actually applauded with her little hands when the Locust burst apart in an impressive fireball. The shaking around with each step the Mech took did not seem to disturb the little girl much, which brought a wider smile on Ainaâ€™s lips. She has ever intention to get her little daughter accustomed to the inside of a Mech cockpit early on, which is part of the reason she brought her along for the little training session.

What is left of the enemy lance fired again the speeding Talon, with the Wasp trying to get closer to be able to use its weaponry. The Wolfhoundâ€™s ER Large Laser and the LRM salvo from the Wolf Trap missed her once again, but the Wolf Trap managed to sand off some armour off her Mech using its LB-X 10 Autocannon. The damage was minor though, since the hits were spread out all over her mech. Aina fired another shot from her ER PPC in return, this time aiming at the Wasp and catching it right at the right torso, punching through the armour as well as burning off some of the myomer bundles that moves the Mech, but failing to hit any critical components this time.

Since she has no desire whatsoever to continue trading long-range shots with the two heavier Mechs of the enemy lance, Aina brought her Talon behind a small hill, moving behind cover just as another ten LRMs rained on the front side of the hill instead of on her mech. The Wasp went on in an aggressive manner, and jumped straight over the hill, obviously expecting to land behind Aina, but she expected that manoeuvre, and as it crested the peak of the hill, the Wasp found itself face-to-face with a waiting Talon. Both Mechs fired an alpha-strike at each other, the Wasp managing to slough off over a quarter ton of armour off the Talonâ€™s left leg with one of its medium lasers, while Ainaâ€™s shots concentrated on the chest of the Wasp, ripping apart the entire right side of the Mech as well as damaging its Gyro, for the Mech fell flat on its face when it landed. Aina did not waste the opportunity and fires an ER PPC bolt point-blank onto the Waspâ€™s cockpit, ensuring that the Mech would not rise up to bother her again.

Two down, two to go. Only these two outguns her at long-range and at least matches her in weight.

Taking a quick breather and a moment to glance at the schematics, Aina immediately noticed a flaw on the Wolf Trapâ€™s design that she could capitalize on: the rear armour of the Mech is particularly thin, and most of its ammunition are stored on its right torso. Having formed a plan in her mind, she pushed her Mech from the cover of the small hill, and started to pull a circling manoeuvre around the Wolf Trap and the Wolfhound, firing her ER PPC and two lasers alternately to keep her heat levels under control. The exchange of shots resulted in her Talon taking another two sand-blasting hits from the Wolf Trapâ€™s LB-X 10 Autocannon, while the Wolfhound managed to melt off most of the armour plating covering her Mechâ€™s right arm with its ER Large Laser just moments before her ER PPC demolished the offending weapon.

Keeping a Mech running at over a hundred and twenty kilometres an hour steady on an icy tundra is not an easy thing to do, and it had taken Aina every ounce of her ingrained piloting skills to keep her Mechâ€™s feet from slipping on the icy ground. Apparently the simulating computer decided that the Wolfhound pilot is not as skilled as she is, for the Mech suddenly lost its footing and fell flat on its back. Aina did not waste the opportunity presented, and she suddenly planted her Mechâ€™s left leg hard against the ground, causing the internal structure to groan in protest of the abuse it is undergoing, using the leg as a pivot to pull a very sudden and sharp turn that brought her Mech running straight at the Wolf Trap.

The Wolf Trap opened fire at her with everything it had.

Aina took the damage stoically when the enemy Mechâ€™s two medium lasers melted off more armour from her Mechâ€™s side torsos, leaving her with around half protection on both sides, and its LB-X 10 Autocannon sanded off more armour from all extremities of her mech. The Wolf Trapâ€™s LRMs missed wide though, Aina having crossed the minimum range of the missilesâ€™ targeting system. She did not fire until she had passed the Wolf Trap, which tried in vain to keep up with her speeding Mech by turning around, and Aina took her one chance, twisted her Mechâ€™s torso to the side, and unloaded an Alpha-strike right against the weaker rear armour of the Wolf Trap. One of her medium laser shots missed, but the other two shots hit the enemy Mech right where she aimed them: its rear right torso. The particle beam combined with the laser to punch through the thin rear armour and ravage the internals of the Wolf Trap. To her disappointment, she failed to torch off the Mechâ€™s ammunition bins, but the Mech must have taken severe damage to its engine anyway, for it shut off its engine in capitulation.

That leaves her in a one-on-one with the Wolfhound

Instead of indulging her instinct to close in and pummel the enemy Mech with every weapon she has, Aina suppressed that desire and utilized her superior speed to stay outside the effective range of the Wolfhoundâ€™s remaining medium lasers, shooting at it with her ER PPC the moment the weapon recycled, and slowly but surely taking the 35-ton Mech apart. She had to smirk at the irony of the situation, for it was tactics similar to what she employed right now that got her sibkin Christian into a Trial of Grievance he did not walk out alive from shortly after his Trial of Position.

â€œYes.â€ Aina thought to herself. â€œIf that is what it will take to survive, then so be it. I have nothing more to lose, yet the legacy he and I brought to this world must continue on, and for that purpose, I would do anything, even resorting to doing things I used to shun as un-Clanlikeâ€¦â€

â€œBut I am no longer of the clans. Heh. I wonder what old Falconer Ferro would say if he could see me nowâ€¦â€

The simulated battle ended less than five minutes later, the Wolfhound never managing to bring its medium lasers into play since it could not close the distance the faster Talon dictated. Sweating but satisfied that she had not yet lost her edge, Aina stepped out of the simulator pod with little Diana in tow. The look on the childâ€™s face spelled nothing other than amusement and enjoyment, and one would have to conclude that the little girl seems to have developed a taste for such things, for she definitely looked like she thoroughly enjoyed the whole â€œrideâ€. Aina thought that to be a good thing, for the girl will have plenty to live up to once she is old enough to actually be trainedâ€¦

Feburary 23rd, 3080
Dropship Event Horizon
Outbound to Tancredi IV jumppoint

Loch punched the throttles to the max and slewed the fifty tons of hovercraft in a powerslide to the left.

â€œJAYSUS!â€ Gusty hollered from his seat behind Loch as the simulator tilted to simulate the Maximâ€™s radical turn. Loch heard a squeak from behind him as Rhi was tossed from her station and wasnâ€™t even tempted to grin.

He glanced back down at the radar monitor by his knee watching the blips try to converge on the running hovercraft.

â€œTreauxclair! I need that analysis NOW!â€ The Maxim straightened out and bolted down the gully. A gully that Loch sincerely hoped didnâ€™t come to a dead end. His lips DID twitch at the unintentional pun.

â€œTwo Mechs, Sir. Oneâ€™s a Locust, the other looks to be an Assassin. We didnâ€™t get a good read on that Assy, so I canâ€™t be one hundred percent sure.â€

â€œJust give me your best.â€ Loch commanded.

"That IS my best guess!" Her voice was harried but Loch heard the steel clamping down inside her as she tried to rise to the occasion. She was doing rather well under the circumstances. Loch nodded and put another notch in the plus column.

Rhianna Treauxclair was starting to prove herself. While she did get rattled, but she didn't completely lose it. Loch hadn't expected that kind of steel in her, and he was pleasantly surprised.

The Sim rocked as the Maxim took another hit. Loch looked at the speed indicator, trying to eke out just a few more KPH out of the machine. The throttle said it wasn't going to happen.

The Sim jerked forward, throwing him against his seat restraints. The words "SIM OVER" flashed on every screen as Loch began to wonder what had happened.

Gusty climed down from his station in the turret rubbing his shoulder.

"Do you think you could have at least slowed down 'fore you hit that dead end?" His voice was pouty, almost resentful. Loch didn't blame him.

Loch had found himself drifting off in his own mind at the most inopportune times. His mind wandered to other times, other places in a chaotic pattern. He was beginning to get dangerous to not only himself, but also to 30 other people he would be transporting/ commanding.

"Sorry Gusty, I was concentrated on the radar."

"You mean you drifted off again." He held Loch's eyes until Loch looked away. "I thought so. You need to get laid" Gusty said with an absolutely straight face but his eyes danced. Loch simply shook his head.

His eyes looked beyond Gusty. Rhi was approaching. Fire blazed in her eyes, her skin pale with anger.

"You STUPID Fucker!" She screamed at him.

It all went down hill from there.

Loch and Gusty sat back to let Rhi rant. Loch was impressed by her vocabulary, not only in English, but German, Russian, and surprisingly Farsi. Gusty simply grinned appreciatively.

15 Minutes later, Rhi began to run out of things to say and she wound down to a simple fuming.

"I appreciate your comments, Ms. Treauxclair. Have you finished up with that dent on Bad Penny's left side?" Loch wanted to push just a little. Now he knew Rhi had a spine. Now, could she restrain that anger enough to do as she was ordered.

The anger flared white hot in her eyes. She looked at Loch. "Asshole" She spun on her heel and stormed out of the simulator, the door clanged open as she slammed it outward with vicious energy.

Loch could sense the anger rising from Gusty, and he didn't blame Gusty for being pissed.

"Gusty, do me a favour." He pre-empted a rant from Gusty. "I think we need to start bringing Rhi into the fold a little more. Start getting her used to our methods."

Gusty blinked as the first use of Rhi's nickname sunk in. His eyes softened and he shook his head.

"Yer a mean bitch, you know that Loch?"

Loch shrugged and pointed to the door. Gusty chuckled and took the hint.

Loch leaned back in his chair.

Yes, Rhianna Treauxclair was beginning to work out rather nicely.

February 26th, 3080
0630 hours, Ship time
Mess Hall
Aboard Dropship: â€œEvent Horizonâ€
In Transit

David tossed a bundle of leather down across the chair next to Aina. â€œYour â€œUniformâ€ such as it is.â€

Unfolding it, Aina found herself holding a leather long-coat with a Black Star tooled into the back. Heavy and still stiff from the newness, it appeared to have been made from very dark green leather. Upon slightly closer inspection, she found that the creature that had provided the hide was apparently some sort of lizard analogue, covering the surface with many small, hard scales.

She slipped it on, and was slightly surprised to find that it fit like a glove.

David nodded at her upraised eyebrow. â€œThe scales are pretty tough, and thereâ€™s a light Kevlar layer between the leather and the lining. Itâ€™ll turn some blades, unless you start picking swordfights with Elementals, and it MIGHT stop a light calibre round at distance, but donâ€™t count on it. Itâ€™s much better against light shrapnel and smaller blades.â€

"I see. It is good to see people from the Inner Sphere to think on practical functions over form as well once in a while." She replied, the faint shadow of a smile forming on her lips, something that rarely happened.

To be frank, she liked the fit of the long-coat, and the little fact that is also serves as protection against light weaponry is something she definitely would have approved regardless. Too many people, even among the clans, seem to put too much into the form and less into the practical and functional side of things. That, and it gave her one other thing she has missed for so many years: A sense of identification, just like how she felt herself part of her clan back in the days before her defeat and capture. In the same manner, she felt herself more of one of the "Black Stars" now.

"Any rules regarding when we wear this?" She asked just out of formality.

David grunted. â€œNot required daily wear, but if you are representing the â€˜Stars officially at any point, youâ€™ll need it.â€

Aina nodded at the reply. She found herself already thinking to wear the "uniform" when outside, for being a former Clanner, she has no compulsion to hide her identity, rather announcing it for all to see. A second line of thought crossed her mind at that moment though, as she noticed the roomy interior of the long coat, and she wondered if she could probably get some concealed sheaths to carry weapons worked into the coat.

"Any way to work some holsters and sheaths into these?"

He shrugged. â€œIt has a couple concealed sheaths built into the sleeves, and one down the back of the neck, anything else you want, let me know, and Iâ€™ll see what I can do. If you are interested, I have plenty of that leather leftâ€¦ Boots, gloves, or trousers are all possible if you want to purchase them. The Black Star Duster is purchased by the unit when you join, but youâ€™ll have to pay for any replacements or additional ones you want.â€

She actually smiled. The man, David, seems to have thought of most things beforehand, but one of his remarks caught her attention.

"You made these by yourself, quiaff?"

David smiled. â€œA minor hobby of mineâ€¦ I find working with the leather helps me think.â€

He held out one more small bundle, this one a vest of the same leather, sized for a small child. This item also carried the Black Star across the back. â€œSomething for your little one.â€

"Thank you, and much appreciated. Do you usually issue uniforms to your non-combatants as well? I am unfamiliar that you do so in the Inner Sphere."

He smiled. â€œWe want people to know who is one of ours. We protect our own. There is a small tracker in the vest. Weâ€™ve made a few examples before, but every so often some idiot decides to try to pressure us by trying to grab a few dependents.â€

Davidâ€™s eyes grew cold. â€œWe donâ€™t pay ransomâ€¦ ever. Take one of ours and weâ€™ll pull your lungs out through your nose, at any price.â€

0945 Hours, Ship Time
Recreation Deck

David watched from the side as Kei and Sparks finished up their chess match before walking over and dropping the former Capellanâ€™s new long coat onto her lap. â€œYour uniform.â€

Recharge Station E4-09-001
Zalaf Nadir Jump Point
Draconis Combine
February 27th, 3080
1200 hours, Local time

The lounge on Recharge Station E4-09-001 orbiting Zalafâ€™s Nadir jump point was spartan and plain like most other similar facilities onboard other such structures. The lounge was never meant to provide anything more than a resting area for weary space travelling passengers who wished to simply get away from the DropShip which that had been holed up in for weeks, if not months.

It was cold, plain and had completely no aesthetic appeal at all. Not so was the situation developing at one of the several the tables that dotted the lounge.

Four persons were seated around the piece of otherwise plain and simple piece of matt finished stainless steel furniture. Over a dozen others stood around, looking on with interest. Not all of them understood exactly the mechanics of the game unfolding, but some of those who did actually held their breaths in excitement.

The card game was over a thousand years old. Unlike the more common poker games that most others could easily follow, this was one that relied not only on luck and skill, but was a game of bluff and pure guts.

The rules were simple enough, and it was said that poker and many other five card games were spin offs from it. Each player was dealt thirteen cards. Players may choose to put out one card, pairs, three similar ones of five cards. The last combination would be familiar to poker players, with straight being the smallest combination, flush being the next, followed by full house, four of a kind and straight flush. Diamonds were considered the â€œweakestâ€, followed by clubs, hearts and spade. The main different here though, was that Twoâ€™s were considered the â€œbiggestâ€ number rather than Aceâ€™s.

There was also a pot for a â€œspecialâ€ hand â€“ a four of a kind or a straight flush will earn the player who placed it an additional immediate bonus payment. The catch was that if another player had a stronger â€œspecialâ€ hand, the bonus would be doubled.

The four players had started with very low stakes, just something to pass their time. The ante initially was ten c-bills each, with each unplaced card costing a further ten each. If the player had eight cards or more, his lost would be doubled. If anyone was unfortunate enough to be caught with all thirteen cards in hand, the lost would be tripled.

The stakes were made rather large for the player with the most cards as he or she would not only lose to the winner of the round, but to the other two players who had more cards, less the ante.

This particular game had been going on for the better part of two hours. The initial ante of ten had been raised to a thousand, and the value of each unplaced card similarly increased to a thousand c-bill per unplaced card.

The round that just concluded had been more than kind to Durk Gunston. Heck, he had been dealt excellent hands all day long, failing to win only on two occasions, and even then winning money due to the loser of those rounds having nine to ten cards, and he only one or two.

Not only had he gotten a particular good hand of cards, the other three players had been dealt absolute horrible hands. To make matters worse â€“ for the other three anyway, Durk had the three of diamonds in hand, meaning that he got to start the round.

A single diamond three placed by Durk on the table seemed innocuous enough. The next member, an older man with grayish silvery long hair tied in a pony tail, however, helped him by next playing two of hearts. Either he had really bad cards and hoped that placing such a strong card would throw the others off to allow him to throw out as many cards next as possible, or that he was confident of winning, and hoped to catch the others with double, or even triple losses. That worked just find for Durk. With nothing possibly stronger to play, the next two players had to pass. Durk smiled at the player who had played the two of hearts as he drew out the two of spades and placed it on top of the two cards in the middle of the table. He next pulled three cards from his hand, which solicited a grin from the next member. Durk was right, the bastard had strong hand of card combinations to play.

The three Queens caused the other two players to groan in despair. Not so from the older man. He trumped Durkâ€™s hand with a three Kings, grinning from ear to ear. Durk snorted as he next drew three Aces and threw them on top of the table.

The manâ€™s eyes widened before he closed his eyes and shock in head in resignation, as did the next two increasingly flustered players who still had a full hand of thirteen cards.

Durk smirked as he next placed a straight flush on the table â€“ ten to Ace of spades, the strongest five card combination. The other three players moaned as they forked out a hundred c-bills for the â€œspecialâ€ hand, followed by Durk placing down the last card in his hand for the win.

It was a sweet victory for Durk. Triple earnings from two players amounting to forty thousand c-bills each, plus another five hundred c-bills for the â€œspecialâ€ hand.

The older pony tailed man looked at his own pot and sighed. â€œGuess olâ€™ Brandonâ€™s done fer da day boy-o.â€ He looked at Durk in surrender. â€œMe stashâ€™s nearly as dry a jellyfish in da dessert, donâ€™t ya know.â€

â€œCâ€™mon old man.â€ Durk smiled. â€œYou had good hands. Just unlucky that I trumped you a couple of times.â€

â€œActually, made dat trumpinâ€™ poor olâ€™ Brandon EVERY time I got a good hand.â€ The older man complained.

â€œTell you what, Iâ€™ll waive your losses.â€ Durk offered.

Brandon raised an eyebrow sceptically. â€œAll of da half a milâ€™?â€

â€œIndeed.â€ Durk sat back into his chair. â€œNothing or double.â€

The older man stroked his chin in thought as he considered the offer. â€œI donâ€™t know, boyâ€™ o. Iâ€™ve gotta git some advance from me boss if I lose. Bloody hell, knowinâ€™ da bastard, heâ€™d most likely make me sign a life long bond or somethinâ€™, donâ€™t ya know.â€ He rolled his eyes. â€œUnlessâ€¦.â€

â€œUnless you tell him you were playing for something worth while?â€ Durk finished Brandonâ€™s unfinished sentence.

â€œYaâ€¦â€

Durk breathed in deeply as he pondered the possibilities. The Black Stars were notorious for wagering all sorts of assorted items from cash, to personal employment contracts and ownership of hardware. It was what convinced him to offer Brandon a seat at the gambling table. That, and the fact that the other two players at the table were known associates of his as well. They were fellow crew members of his Demolisher heavy assault tank. What better chance than this to rip off the old man of something from his unit?

â€œTell you what old man.â€ Durk spread his hands wide. â€œIâ€™ll wager the contracts of me and my crew for a tank from your unit â€“ if you COâ€™s ok with that of course.â€

â€œMe ainâ€™t have da authority to say aye or nay boyâ€™o.â€ Brandon reminded the younger man. The sparkling in his eyes however, told Durk that he had just about gotten his prey hook and sinker.

â€œSo check with him already.â€ Durk suggested generously. â€œIâ€™ll wait.â€ He turned towards the other two players at the table. â€œIf thatâ€™s ok with you gentlemen of course?â€

Both men looked at Durk, than Brandon uneasily. The first one, a reed thin man with a bald scalp called Pierre nodded. â€œItâ€™s not like Iâ€™ve got a place to go in a hurry, seeing that the JumpShip Iâ€™m travelling on will need another two days before making the next trip.â€

The other remained silent, deep in thought. He refused to look at any of the other three players, sight focused on the ceiling. A cough from Durk that Brandon caught, and a quick narrowing of his eyes that he didnâ€™t made the last player closed his eyes for a second before opening them again. â€œSure. Iâ€™m in.â€

â€œExcellent!â€ Durk beamed at Brandon. â€œGo talk to your CO now old man.â€

â€œYa boys sure â€˜bout dis?â€ Brandon cast his eyes around the table, settling down on the other two players. â€œDa two of ya ken walk outta here right now. What â€˜ave ya got to wager on anyway?â€

â€œWhatever you guys play for old man, Iâ€™m still good for the cash.â€ The first guy winked.

The last player was in a much less optimistic mood. He paused for a long while before replying. â€œDonâ€™t worry about it. Iâ€™m good too.â€

â€œThere you have it Brandon.â€ Durk smirked as he motioned to the watching crowd. â€œBoth Pierre and Todd are up for it. And we have all these people as witnesses. Go talk to your CO.â€

Brandon sighed as he stood from his table. Rather than walk away, he shouted. â€œYer heard dat boyâ€™o? Ken I go fer it?â€

A clear voice sounded â€œGo knock yourself out X.â€ Heads at the table turned towards the voice. A bored looking Chinese man was sprawled on a sofa with a younger man beside him and another women watching some ancient holovid movie. â€œI think I have a Pegasus somewhere I can spare.â€

â€œDat good enough fer ya boyâ€™o?â€ Brandon turned towards Durk. â€œA Peggy fer yar contracts?â€

â€œSounds yummy.â€ Durk grinned.

Brandon sat down again and stretched his neck. â€œLetâ€™s start now dan shall we?â€

They each drew a card from the deck to determine who would distribute the cards. Durkâ€™s grin widened when he drew a King. The last to draw, Brandon signed and he reached for the deck and pulled out a card. He looked at it, before flipping it over to show the other three players. It was an Ace of hearts.

Brandon shrugged. â€œFer yer sake, I do hope dis ainâ€™t a sign tha come boyâ€™o.â€

â€œItâ€™s just the starting card Brandon.â€ Durk nonchalantly reflected the older mercenaryâ€™s shrug. â€œItâ€™s the actual game that counts.â€

The Black Stars soldier collected the cards and shuffled them thoroughly, mixing the deck before placing it in the centre of the table. Durk reached out a hand and cut the deck into half. Brandon took the lower half of the deck and placed it on top of the other below pulling it back and started giving them out into four stacks.

The four players drew up their hands, each rearranging the cards to their own preference. Durk could not help but grin. That tank is as good as mine.

Todd started the round with a hand of three pairs. Pierre nodded to himself and he picked two cards and placed a pair of sevens on the table. Durk let out a snort as he followed their example and threw out a pair of Jacks.

Brandon strained as his cards in obvious frustration. He shook his head. â€œPass.â€

Todd next pulled out a pair of Queens. Pierre followed too with a pair of Queens, the Queen of Spade in his pair trumping the pair that Todd played. Durk topped Pierreâ€™s hand with a pair of Aces. Brandon slapped his cards on the table and sighed. â€œI pass.â€

â€œYouâ€™re giving up already old man?â€ Durk taunted the Black Stars vehicle crew.

Brandon shot the younger man a venomous shot. â€œJust shuddup anâ€™ play.â€

Todd tapped on the table, indicating a pass, as did Pierre. Durk smiled and next played a hand of full house consisting of two fours and triple Kings. He turned and looked expectantly at Brandon.

â€œI havenâ€™ have a thing in hand.â€ The silver haired man confirmed.

Durk let out a triumphant laugh as both Todd and Pierre passed as well. He next placed a pair of twoâ€™s on the table â€“ a Club and a Hearts. â€œItâ€™s not that Iâ€™m not letting you put at least one card old man. Iâ€™m running the risk of being accused of taking advantage of your senility.â€

â€œMany thanks tha ya boy-o.â€ Brandon muttered as he snapped his cards together and shook his head. Todd scratched his head slightly as he scanned his cards and shook his head too. Pierre smiled as he nodded towards Durk. â€œAll yours man.â€

Durk grinned at Brandon as he fingered the cards in his hand. â€œI do believe itâ€™s nearly the end of the road for you, pops.â€

The tank commander pulled out a ten and placed it on the table. â€œLast card people.â€ He declared.

Brandon whistled an eyebrow as he placed his first card on the table. It was the two of Spades.

Durk raised a surprised eyebrow at Brandon, before sweeping his gaze the other two players. The older man next proceeded to place five cards on the table â€“ a straight consisting of four to eight. Todd scanned his cards frantically and counted them, trying to pick out something. Anything. He smiled in relieve as he next produced a flush hand that included an Ace, King, ten, nine and five.

Pierre broke into a predatory grin as he too pulled out five cards â€“ a full house with three nines and the last pair of Jacks.

Durk turned to look at Brandon. â€œWhatever they next play, I win. Boyâ€™ o.â€ He flipped his card and showed Brandon the last two of the deck. â€œThereâ€™s no more five cards in their hands, and theyâ€™ve ran out of pairs.â€

Brandon looked at Todd and Pierre before turning back towards Durk. â€œYaâ€™re right of course boyâ€™ o.â€ Durk laughed as he stretched out his hands to bring in the spread of cards on the table. Brandon put up a hand. â€œUnless of course if I have somethinâ€™ in hand.â€

Durk looked at the older man in confusion. Brandon placed his entire hand of seven cards on the table. There was a straight flush of four to eight, and a pair of threes.

â€œI do believeâ€¦â€ Brandon smiled before tilting his head in slight frustration before standing up and shouted towards the Chinese man. â€œWhatâ€™s da correct term da use boyâ€™ o?â€

â€œHis ass his ours.â€ Zhao replied with the shadow of a smile creeping onto his face. â€œTheir collective asses are now our property.â€

Vampire · « **Reply #5 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:04:58 AM »

7th March. 3080
2215 hours, Local time
â€œFlyersâ€™ Paradiseâ€ Bar & Entertainment centre
Oasis V
Bjarred
Draconis Combine

Jeffrey Miwa was enjoying a VERY good period of his life.

Just one week ago he found himself to be down in the dumps, his applications to various mercenary outfits all returned with a â€œRejectedâ€ stamped on it one way or another (Surely his merely mediocre piloting skills has nothing to do with it, no?), and he was close to his last C-bill, to the point that the thirty-four year old former DCMS pilot had contemplated suicide to put an end to his misery.

Then his luck changed for the better. Be it from a stroke of luck, or just his own sheer desperation taking over him, he participated in a little ancient Terran game called a â€œRussian Rouletteâ€ with another pilot who also happened to be looking for work. The handgun blew the head of the other man into pieces when he took the first shot, and Jeffrey, always an opportunist, took the chance (and the fact that nobody seems to be looking) to liberate the dead man of his physical possessions, earning himself a good amount of cash, but more importantly, the certificate of ownership of a S-7 Sai Aerospace fighter.

With some hardware to back up his application, he received an affirmative to his latest application to a mercenary unit, and he ended up spending the evening (and most of the night too) in his favourite joint, liberally buying rounds for the other patrons in the establishment, which is mostly frequented by spacers or fellow pilots, and even boasted a quartet of simulator pods with several wide-screen displays in case someone felt like settling a score the bloodless way or just want to have a friendly match. Life could not have been better for him, and right now, all Jeffrey Miwa felt was lacking in his life is a perfect woman for him.

Just as he pondered about seducing the not-so-pretty but decent enough waitress to spend the night with him, the creak of the Barâ€™s old-fashioned wooden door opening caused him to turn his head to look at the newcomers. The sight that greeted him caused him to raise both eyebrows and stare for a few moments at the young girl who just entered the bar. Now thereâ€™s the kind of girl heâ€™d like to have for himself. Caucasian features with a pretty, cherubic face, yet somehow fitting into the small, petite frame more common to those of Asian heritage, and from the way she is attired, heâ€™d wager that she is also someone who likes flying. What could be more perfect?

Of course, Jeffrey Miwa never did manage to remember that while he considered himself to be the modern day equivalent of the medieval womanizer Cassanova, most people would still consider him to be a butt-ugly, obnoxious, and uncouth character that more represented what women should avoid at any cost when looking for a man.

â€œHullo there, pretty one. You alone here?â€

No reply was forthcoming from the bored-looking Caucasian girl. If anything, she seemed to be paying more attention to the chewing gum bubble sheâ€™s blowing than to the man who just tried to get her attention just now.

If there was a good quality to the man named Jeffrey Miwa, it would probably be his resilience when he already put his mind into something, which most would agree to put a cockroach to shame. He did not give up even when she continued to ignore him, but tried to approach her and open a conversation for many different angles, nearly exhausting his repertoire of choice (Read: Lame and corny in everyoneâ€™s opinion but his own) pick-up lines before she turned and looked at him when he tried boasting to her about his newly won position in a mercenary unit supposed to pick him up in a week and of his brand-new Sai Aerospace Fighter.

Ericaâ€™s eyes lit up at the mention of an aerospace fighter.

While the Lyran does suffer from autism, which more often than not caused her to be more immersed in her own private, little world and not paying the slightest bit of attention to her surroundings, there is about one thing in life that would draw her out of that reverie, and that one thing being flying vehicles, especially fast ones like Aerospace Fighters. To most peopleâ€™s horrors, she also tends to exhibit a very Lyran trait of milking other people for every last C-bill they have once she steps out of that reverie, and this incident is no exception.

It would not have taken any woman with at least half a brain to notice just what intention the ugly, somewhat drunk, uncouth, and obnoxious man addressing them have in mind. Normally, Erica would have just left the establishment or something similar, but his mention of having a Fighter in his possessionâ€¦ that sparked an idea in her mind. An idea that would have caused Jeffrey Miwa to run away fast had he possessed the capability to read minds, which he doesnâ€™t.

â€œYou want me, donâ€™t you? In your bed.â€ Stated Erica with her characteristic bluntness. She was never known to be good at mincing wordsâ€¦ something that comes as a side effect to her autism.

Jeffrey Miwa was taken aback for a moment, while Theresa, who sat just across the table from her friend, involuntarily lowered her forehead to her hand, already having an inkling of what her friend is up to. The Combine man, still somewhat surprised at the straight-forwardness of the young girl, nodded dumbly, which caused Erica to smile coldly. For her, the fat, obnoxious man is little more than cattle whose worth is only as much as the milk you can get from it. Of course, very few people would suspect the diminutive girl with the cherubic face to be hiding that kind of a ruthless money-grubbing characteristic inside her. Those that found out that particular side of Erica, usually found it out the hard way.

â€œHow much would you bet for me, big boy?â€

Without saying a further word, and face twisted with delight, Jeffrey pulled out his wallet from pulled out several thousands C-bills worth of money out from it. That just earned a pout form Erica, which caused Jeffrey Miwa to cringe.

â€œWhat do you think I am, Dummkopf? Just a Schlampe you can pick off the street for some C-bills?â€ She scolded.

Jeffrey Miwa found himself at a loss for words. Of course, the alcohol that slightly muddled his brain played a factor in that as well.

â€œLetâ€™s put it this way. We fly a round in the sims there. You win, Iâ€™m yours for the week. I winâ€¦â€

â€œAnything!â€ Shouted the exasperated man, perhaps too eagerly. Ericaâ€™s smile turned into a predatory grin at the word, while Theresa besides her sighed, knowing perfectly what is about to take place. Theresa knows full well that Erica has every intention to rob the man blind without giving him the chance to ever comprehend what had happened to him.

â€œDeal. Then I get your bird if I win. Shall we?â€

Nodding eagerly, Jeffrey Miwa led Erica â€œSchwarzteufelâ€ Hartmann towards two unoccupied simulator pods, with some of the patrons of the bar crowding around one of the screen to watch the upcoming match. Of course, through the course of all this, Jeffrey Miwa still had no idea whatsoever of just how deep a hole he has dug himself into. He is about to find that out very soonâ€¦

********************************************************

Still chewing on the peppermint-flavour chewing gum she had chewed on from before she entered the bar, Erica took a moment to acquaint herself with the Sai S-7 Aerospace Fighter she pilots in the simulation, having agreed on playing it fairly, random conditions and terrain, with identical fighters, and starting at least a minute and a halfâ€™s worth of flight from each other. The fight took place in a zero-G environment, deep space, with practically no obstacles or cover anywhere in sight, and from what little feel she got of the fighter during the minute before the radar painted the other Sai on her screen, she felt that she might just start to like this kind of fighter.

Slightly faster than her old ride with a rather painful array of weaponry comprised of a pair of Extended-Range Medium Lasers as well as two MRM-20 racks, the Sai S-7 seems to be designed mostly for medium to close range engagements, just the kind of combat Erica herself excelled in. The armour plating is decent enough for her, for any aerofighter pilot worth their salt would know that the best way to stay alive would be not to get hit, and the lack of rear-mounted weaponry never bothered her, since she has no plan whatsoever to allow her enemy to get there. Grinning like a wolf set loose inside a herd of sheep, Erica brought her fighter into a maximum-thrust attack run at the other fighter, bearing the six Gs worth of force acting on her without as much as a complaint.

Jeffrey Miwa tried to counter Ericaâ€™s manoeuvre by turning his fighter around to meet hers, and unleashed his entire arsenal from its maximum range. That proved to be a poor choice of action, for not a single one of his shot even came close to hitting the other Sai moving at 6 Gs worth of acceleration, gaining more and more speed as the seconds passes. To his horror, he soon realized that the other Sai was not exactly planning to try get an angle on his fighter, but has brought itself into a direct collision course with his own speeding fighter. Half a kilometre and less than a couple of seconds before the eventual crash, Jeffrey lost his nerve and instinctively pulled his fighter up to avoid crashing into the other fighter.

That was precisely what Erica expected him to do. Most pilotsâ€™ instincts would cause them to avoid a crash by pulling up. She in turn calmly used her fighterâ€™s manoeuvring thrusters to throw her plane into a pursuit course of the other Sai, quickly getting the other planeâ€™s tail aligned with her crosshairs and staying right behind the other fighter. Perhaps it was just because it was a mere simulation fight, or because she felt certain that there is nothing to worry about from this opponent, but Erica did not shoot at the other Saiâ€™s tail for the next fifteen seconds, allowing her prey to try his best to shake her loose, all in futility.

It only took a single salvo from Ericaâ€™s Sai, fired from less than fifty meters away, to rip Jeffreyâ€™s simulated Aerospace Fighter into little bits and pieces, its rear armour nowhere near enough to handle a full barrage from the weaponry of another plane of its own type.

~ One minute later ~

â€œTell you what. Since Iâ€™m feeling generous today, Iâ€™ll give you a chance to win your bird back. Bet everything in your wallet for it?â€

â€œIâ€™ll get you this time, Girl!â€

Thirty minutes after their first encounter, a very humbled and dejected Jeffrey Miwa stumbled into the streets, wearing nothing but his underwear. He was always a gambling man, and his worst habit was of not knowing when to fold, like what he did today. First he lost his fighter craft, all because his hormones overruled his common sense (at least, what little he did have, if any), then he started losing article over article trying to win it back. His money, his sidearm, his Katana, even most of his clothes. The only comforting thing he could think about on now is that at least he still has a berth with a mercenary unit coming to pick him up in a weekâ€¦

Meanwhile, back at the â€œFlyersâ€™ Paradiseâ€, Erica had apparently stirred up some of the watching crowd of spacers and pilots, among whom several DCMS aerospace pilots also happened to be present, for another Japanese man stepped right at her and challenged her to a match, betting a good amount of C-bills that he would show the â€œLyran whoreâ€ how true pilots fight. Erica just smiled at the insult, and asked Theresa to do the bookkeeping, as well as hold on to Schwarz, her cat-like pet, a little while longer.

The second match lasted even shorter than the first, for while Erica chose to use another S-7 Sai in order to better acquaint herself with the aerospace fighter that is now hers, the DCMS pilot chose a circular-winged Sholagar, which is faster but weaker than her fighter. Unfortunately for the DCMS pilot, the simulator randomized them into an atmospheric fight, with strong winds. Erica was at home under such conditions, used to flying gliders when she was barely into her teenage years and growing up among such conventional, and thereby terrestrial, aircrafts. The definitely not aerodynamic Sholagar on the other hand faced great difficulties just trying to fly steady.

It was almost like shooting a duck inside a barrel.

As she had expected (Evident from the widening grin forming on her lips), the quick humiliation of the DCMS pilot sparked a chain reaction, and soon several other pilots demanded a duel with her to cleanse his outfitâ€™s honor. She was perfectly fine with that, of course, for it just meant more money for her and more smearing of whichever outfit these pilots came from. With predictable Draconic tenacity they came, and with predictable embarrassment they went.

By the time Erica and Theresa chose to end their night, several more pilots have left the bar with much fewer C-bills in their wallets, and at least one more left the bar in nothing more than his underwear.

Her hand counting the stack of C-bills she held, Erica only had a short comment to offer to her long-time partner when Theresa once again asked her if she had not went too far.

â€œSchadeâ€¦â€

â€œWieso?â€

â€œJust a shame, Sasha (Ericaâ€™s pet-name for her friend). None of them had another bird to wagerâ€¦ Guess weâ€™ll just have to visit some of the other joints in townâ€¦â€

Theresa Weissenberger could once again do nothing but shake her head in near-disbelief at that comment.

Vampire · « **Reply #6 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:05:50 AM »

8th March. 3080
0615 hours, Local time
Oasis V Spaceport
Oasis V
Bjarred
Draconis Combine

Despite all the oddities that compose the person that is Erica Hartmann, Theresa was forced to admit that when it comes to planes of any kind, especially if it is one she can call her own, her friend is a very attentive person. Today the two girls woke up before the sun has risen and took the earliest public transportation to the spaceport, where the fighter Erica won (or robbed from someone, your pick) is stored. The security guard watching over the plane hangar blinked a few times when he noted that the plane had changed owners for the second time in no more than a weekâ€™s time span, but he let them both in without a fuss anyway.

Once they were inside, both former LAAF pilots could tell with a single glance that whoever owned this S-7 Sai beforehand had been someone who did not care much for his fighter, for it is in a rather poor state. An hour of cursory checking confirmed Ericaâ€™s opinion that the previous owner of the plane should be tied to its exhaust vent when she takes off, for she found several messed-up systems as well as some faulty wiring, not forgetting to mention the shoddy job of patching up replacement armour on the plane. By this time, every thought of going around into other establishments to search for a gullible pilot willing to gamble his bird has escaped her mind.

Instead, Erica and Theresa found themselves practically calling the storage hangar their home for the following several days they had before they had to take the shuttle to rendezvous with their employer in the Black Stars mercenary outfit. Most of Ericaâ€™s winnings from the one night of robbing other pilots blind were spent on spare parts and tools as the two girls used most of their time in working on the old (They discovered that the plane was one of the earlier production runs of the Sai, making it one of the oldest specimens of the relatively new plane) aerospace fighter.

Theresa mostly confined her activities to fixing the poorly worked armour plates, leaving the electronics and systems to Erica, who is more than a little bit of a whiz at that subject â€“ she actually modified the controls of her fighter to her liking back in the LAAF, and Theresa heard that the next pilot assigned to that fighter very nearly crashed the fighter the first time he took it out â€“ and within the short time span of four days they managed to bring the old, battered aerospace fighter into one that looked almost like it freshly rolled off the assembly lines â€“ if you choose to not take note of the patchwork on the armour, that in, or the equally jury-rigged wiring and circuitry.

18th March. 3080
0600 hours, Local time
A dark alley somewhere in the city
Oasis V
Bjarred
Draconis Combine

The sun has risen.

Jeffrey Miwa considered the view to be splendid, fitting for it to be his last view of this cruel world.

Just two weeks ago he was at the peak of his life, happily indulging himself in drinks and foods with his berth on a mercenary outfit secured as well as an aerospace fighter to call his own.

Then came the little Lyran devil with an angelic face.

And now Jeffrey Miwa found himself more destitute than ever. He already pawned all his personal possessions except for the clothing he now wears and the old Nanbu slug-thrower he clenched tightly in his right hand. The mercenary outfit changed their mind to take him on upon hearing that he no longer has a fighter to call his own, and since then, all his efforts to get back up from the slump he has fallen into had failed miserably. He ended up contemplating the easy way out once again, and last night, he made his resolution.

The rising sun is a truly fitting sight to be your last sight in this worldâ€¦

That thought ran across Jeffrey Miwaâ€™s mind as he brought the muzzle of the pistol to rest against his own temple and pulled the triggerâ€¦

~ Six days worth of DropShip travel away ~

Had Erica â€œSchwarzteufelâ€ Hartmann learned of the consequences of her action ten days ago, she would not have been bothered. Perhaps is it part of her somewhat defective mental makeup, but the girl holds a ruthless quality, and would not have cared had the man she robbed blind committed suicide in front of her eyes. She knew all too well that her more sensitive friend would have been very much disturbed by that, though. Not that it matters much. For now, all that is important to her is that she and her friend has a place to call â€œhomeâ€, even if it is just on board a DropShip, and a fighter to fly â€“ for their employer graciously purchased one when they were informed that Erica had â€œacquiredâ€ one for herself â€“, and that is all she would require in life.

They are now currently on board of a shuttle in service to he M.H.B, delivering Theresaâ€™s aerospace fighter to the DropShip â€Event Horizonâ€, the only one in service of the Black Stars mercenary outfit, and Erica naturally took the chance to hitchhike a ride on the ship along with her Sai. For now, Erica is satisfied that her friendâ€™s worries are allayed with the prospect of proper employment. For herself, as long as she has something to fly, she would have been more than satisfied.

For her, all other things could go straight to the nine hells, and she wouldnâ€™t bat an eye if it happened right in front of her.

March 22nd 3080
Dropship â€œEvent Horizonâ€
In Transit.

Loch sat back and considered the cards in his hand. The game was as old as mankind taking to the stars, probably older. He looked at Gusty, sitting across the table from him, calculating odds, chances, and his partnerâ€™s skills.

â€œBid three.â€ He collapsed his cards and set them face down on the table. Gusty looked down at his hand and looked back at Loch with a quizzical expression.

â€œGuzman, did anybody ever tell you, you have a horrible poker face?â€ Young flashed her brilliant smile.

â€œAye, my last wife.â€ Gusty tapped the ash of his cigar and slipped it back in him mouth.

â€œI didnâ€™t know you were into women, Gusty.â€ Rhi â€˜s eyes flashed with humour.

Gusty chuckled, â€œhonestly, Loch. I ainâ€™t got shit. Weâ€™re gonna have to go board.â€ Loch shrugged.

Spades was a game that Loch had pleasantly found his crew favoured. Unfortunately, Spades required 4 players and it appeared that their games were finished before it began. Luckily, a chance conversation with Lt. Young gave the group their fourth. Naturally, they played â€œboys on girlsâ€.

â€œok, I believe you start this one, Loch.â€

Loch nodded and looked at his hand again. He tossed out the Ace of Clubs, the others followed suit. Gusty took the cards as Loch set the ace of hearts, quickly trumped by Rhi on his left.

Loch grimaced, and Gusty gave words to his thoughts. â€œWeâ€™re fucked sir.â€

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

â€œWell thatâ€™s one way to humble a man.â€ Gusty scowled at the scorepad.

Rachael chuckled. â€œAnother go Gusty? Rhi and I can do this allllll night if you want.â€

â€œNah Gal, I want to be able to look myself in the mirror again. Iâ€™m getting some rack time.â€

â€œNight Gusty,â€ Rhi said. â€œWe have that simulator session early tomorrow.â€

Gusty nodded. â€œI havenâ€™t forgotten, lass. Night all.â€

â€œI guess Iâ€™m off to bed too, Boss. Night. Night Rachael.â€ Rhi stood and moved to the opposite hatch. Rachael watched her go and took a sip of her beer.

â€œA good crew you have there, Loch.â€ Rachael observed.

Loch simply nodded in agreement and took a drink himself of the water at his elbow. Gusty and Rhi were indeed working out rather nicely. Gusty had always been a solid personality, quick with the reflexes, both mental and physical. Rhi, however, had proven to be nothing short of extraordinary. Once she got her feet under her and the confidence, she had proven to be an absolute whiz at her duties.

â€œYes, they are.â€

Rachael chuckled. â€œI hate to have to pull teeth to get you to admit they are good.â€

Loch let a small grin and raised the glass to indicate a point scored. â€œThe truth is that all of this has been in simulators. We wonâ€™t really be able to test them fully until we get them in a battle situation.â€

â€œThatâ€™s true, but thatâ€™s setting the bar a little high isnâ€™t it?â€

â€œMaybe, but so is the learning curve.â€

Another sip of her beer. â€œThatâ€™s true, I suppose. But let me ask a question.â€

Loch indicated for her to continue.

â€œI looked at your file. Youâ€™re from Lost.â€

Loch raised an eyebrow, â€œYes Lt. Why is that significant.â€

â€œIt occurs to me, Loch, that Lost isnâ€™t noted for its militant background. That and your history as a driverâ€™s son doesnâ€™t quite add up.â€

â€œAnd why is that?â€

â€œYou sound too professional, too cold. I will bet you everything Iâ€™ve owned that you arenâ€™t as battle hardened as you sound like.â€

She held a hand up to forestall any comment.

â€œWhich presents one of two possibilities. Either one, you are the most brilliant natural tactician since Sun-Tzu, or, even more dangerously, youâ€™re pretending that you are.â€

Loch sat back. Rachael was right. Loch wasnâ€™t like this growing up. He was a happy, smiling young man. Pleasing and willing to be pleased.
Then there was Gabby.

Lord, he had been in love with that woman. Her passion for life was infectious. She had changed his life. He had already decided that he was going to drop out of the merc life before he had even begun it.

But then she died.

Not just died, but murdered. Raped and strangled by a sadistic MechWarrior on his way for his first contract as well. He had taken care of that, and Garth wouldnâ€™t be doing that to any young woman again.

His mind snapped back to the present. Rachael sat quiet, nursing her beer.

â€œA valid question. The truth is, I donâ€™t know.â€

â€œThatâ€™s probably the best answer I can expect, under the circumstances. At the very least you realize there is a possibility.â€
She went silent for a few, each stewing in their own thoughts.

Rachael was right, he realized. How much did he know about commanding a troop of soldiers? Hell heâ€™d been a driver for a backworld planet. Lost didnâ€™t even have anything bigger than a civilian spaceport, let alone a militia bigger than a few men running around with pitchforks.

â€œWeâ€™ll have to find out, wonâ€™t we Rachael? Iâ€™ll assume I can depend on you to help with any holes in the training?â€

â€œThatâ€™s ok. Iâ€™ll handle the mudboys. You give us an objective, Iâ€™ll figure out how we do it. Just give us the fire support.â€

Loch nodded at the hint.

â€œAgreed.â€

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

â€œSo, Bushwhack, what do you think of our new hoverpukes?â€

â€œThatâ€™s rich coming from you, Puke.â€ The others in the barrack laughed as Puke turned pink. â€œItâ€™s not our job to question, our job is to make our bosses look good.â€

â€œThatâ€™s a good question, Bush.â€ Gabriella â€œBunsâ€ Brayton was a solid woman, built to handle the Support Assault Weapon she lugged around daily. She was field stripping the large machine gun on the only empty bunk in the room. Old grease and oil soaked the mattress, filling the room with the smell.

Bushwhack was privately worried about Loch. The boy seemed too â€¦ young, too confident, too knowledgeable. Something felt wrong, almost as if he dark haired man was trying to pretend. Sure, the moves were there, they were spotless. Almost too spotless. Those tactics felt too well rehearsed, premeditated. The boy was good with pencil and paper, but what happened when the shit hit the fan.

â€œIt is, Buns. But itâ€™s still not our job to worry about them.â€ He grinned. â€œAfter all, they wouldnâ€™t pay us such lavish wages if we didnâ€™t have to work around little inconveniences like this.â€

â€œSeriously folks, Weâ€™ll work with this.â€

24th March. 3080
0927 hours, Local time
Aboard Dropship: â€œEvent Horizonâ€
Nadir Jump Point
Bjarred
Draconis Combine

The first impression Theresa Weissenberger had of the Black Stars Mercenary outfit was one that was brought about from hearing all sorts of unsavoury things regarding the mercenary unit. She found that first impression unjustified the moment she led Erica through the airlock that allowed them entry to the Black Starsâ€™ Seeker-class DropShip, the infamous â€œEvent Horizonâ€. The first thing Theresa noticed (Erica barely noticed anything, already off again into her own little world) is the cleanliness of the ship itself, something she most certainly would not expect from an outfit with such a besmirched reputation.

Theresa actually found her misgivings mostly removed when a pair of well-disciplined, well-outfitted infantrymen accosted her and Erica shortly after they arrived, and demanded their identifications, efficiently giving them directions to the Executive Officerâ€™s office after taking a look at their IDs. Those infantrymen would have put most militia and even some house infantrymen to shame with their display of discipline and professionalism. If the rest of the outfit is similar to that, she started to wonder how the Black Stars got that reputation of theirs to begin with.

When the two former Lyran pilots passed through the Event Horizonâ€™s main hangar on their way to the XOâ€™s office, Theresa once again found herself VERY impressed, this time from the hardware that the mercenary company fielded. Occupying the four Mech bays of the Seeker-class DropShip were a pair of (in her opinion) excellent light Mechs in the form of a SPR-5F Spector and a TLN-5W Talon, the latter Mech catching her notice in particular due to its black with green trim paint scheme, which corresponds to the unit she and Erica was supposed to be assigned into. The unmistakable Jade Falcon crest also painted in black with green trim on the Mechâ€™s right shoulder confirmed that further, fitting with the fact that the unitâ€™s commander was supposed to be a former Jade Falcon. Fate sure likes ironies, for here they are, their last combat campaign had them shoot out falcons out of the sky, and now they work for one who someone shot out of the sky a good while ago.

To be frank however, it was the other two Mechs that really impressed Theresa. The HBK-6D Hunchback is a rather new House Davion refit to the old and venerable Urban Combat Mech, and not too commonly seen outside their service. What really impressed Theresa and even caused Erica to pause and look at it was the towering, intimidating presence of the 75-ton MAD-5T Marauder BattleMech, one of the deadliest incarnations of the classic and favoured mech. It surprised her that a small mercenary unit could afford to field one of the VERY expensive and extremely deadly designs, much less a heavily-maligned one like the black stars.

The array of conventional armoured vehicles filling out the rest of the hangar was in actuality quite impressive as well, holding some old and reliable workhorses like the Zhukov, Po, and the Schrek PPC carrier. Again, she had to raise both eyebrows at the sight of the one tank parked near the end of the line, a new, impressive - and again, should have been out of the budget of most sane mercenaries - Omnivehicle. A 70-ton Manteuffel Attack Tank, next to the Morningstar City Command Vehicle which she suspected to be commanded by a ranking person.

Of course, how a supposedly at the bottom of the cesspool mercenary outfit also manage to field an impressive array of Battle Armour equipped infantry â€“ Theresa noticed new designs like the slow and lumbering Kanazuchi, the Capellan-made Fa Shih, the quadruped Rotweiller, and even one of those enigmatic Ying Long battle armour arrayed there â€“ is something she felt she might be better off not knowing. Before she even reached the XOâ€™s office, Theresa had already wondered just how the Black Stars managed to get such a poor reputation for their outfit, when everything she sees so far definitely showed nothing less than a well-organized and very well-equipped mercenary outfit.

*****************************

"What is it now?" David snarled at the next in a long series of interruptions. Between the piles of paperwork, and the splitting headache, killing the next person to interrupt him was starting to sound REALLY attractive.

Theresa entered the room with Erica following behind her. The man sitting behind the desk looked like he was having a bad day, and definitely did not have an amused look as he looked up at the two girls. Theresa stood at attention and saluted the man, introducing herself and her partner. "Theresa Weissenberger and Erica Hartmann, sir. Reporting for duty."

David nodded and winced as his head throbbed painfully. "You might as well come in and sit down until Sparks gets back with my coffee. He can show you around and take you to whichever sim-pod Aina is living in at the moment."

"Thank you, sir." She replied, taking a seat on one of the two chairs located across from David's table. Erica slid into the seat next to hers, still seemingly oblivious to the entire exchange taking place.

He looked squarely at Theresa. "Honestly, I don't expect much out of you at all. I didn't hire you, Aina did." He shrugged slightly. "I wouldn't have taken the risk."

Theresa cringed at the comment, although she already partly expected it to come. Next to her, her friend did not even bat an eyelid at the stinging words.

Leaning back in his chair, David pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've read your files and histories... I even called in a couple of favours and got some off the record stuff.... I'm not impressed with what I see. Erica is a liability, plain and simple. Scary good pilot, but no common sense, and no sense of long term consequences. She's possibly a semi-useful tool, but not one that can be trusted to do what its told."

Again came the pained expression from one of the Lyran women. The subject of the discussion however, does not seem to even hear of what has just been told about herself.

He leaned forward, wincing once again. "And you, Theresa... you've saved her life and freedom at least a dozen times... at the cost of a career, at least seven potential job offers, and three hospitalizations. To be blunt, if you don't know it by now.... Erica IS going to get you killed one of these days. If we are lucky, she wonâ€™t take anyone else useful out with you when she does."

Theresa sat up straight in her chair as the last words hit her. "With all due respect, sir." She began.

David just stared at her, looking slightly irritated.

"You say many things out of assumption and in error, sir. It's true that I've endured all that you mentioned for her sake, but you probably didn't know this... Even with all those, I still owe her more for the times she pulled me out of the frying pan while we're in the air."

David shook his head slowly. "I've seen the reports... even looked at a couple of the flight records. Most of the times you were in the "Frying Pan", SHE was the one that put you there." David glanced over at the seemingly oblivious Erica. "Her record is quite clear.... While she's holy hell in a dogfight, she can't be trusted to stay on task if one is offered. She'll take any opportunity to engage the enemy head on. As a result, she has gotten you into situations and fights that could have been avoided, and blown off her assigned tasks on at LEAST six occasions to go hunting."

David flopped a stack of files onto his desktop. "As a result, while she racks up kills, she also has several failed mission objectives on her record, when she decided that dog-fighting some poor bastard was more important than staying on task! Her little hobby, also leads to huge repair costs and maintenance problems when she over-stresses her birds because she can't seem to grasp the concept of not pushing things to the limits of tolerance when it isn't necessary!" David snarled at Theresa. "I would think that it should be obvious to a pilot of your evident talent, that she cannot be trusted to complete her assigned mission, and that her obsession with dog-fighting has led you into unnecessary danger on multiple occasions... .that she has gotten you out again most of those times doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't have been there in the first place!"

"To be frank, sir, I would be as eager to fly with a partner you cannot trust as much as you would not be eager to go into combat with lancemates you cannot trust. I've flown with Erica since well before our LAAF days, and I would not trade her for another pilot even if you give me the Kai Allard-Liao of aerospace pilots, sir."

David shook his head again, almost sadly. "I admire your loyalty.... it's a shame it'll likely get you killed one of these days."

"As for getting me killed... That might very well happen one day... but I'm confident it would not happen while we're flying. Besides... Who would want to live forever anyway? Dying for the sake of a friend sounded as good to me as dying for all the other nationalistic propaganda they throw around out there... or for the almighty C-bill..."

David nodded. "I understand.... now you understand ME." He stared directly into Theresa's eyes. "The FIRST time she blows off a mission order to go hot-dogging, you BOTH are grounded. And if she gets a 'Star killed because she can't follow orders, she goes out the nearest airlock." No emotion showed in either his expression or face. "Aina may be your direct boss, but if you think I'm joking, you best think again.... Now get out of my office."

Realizing that there is little more to say, Theresa got up from her seat, and saluted. Erica followed her partner, still not saying a single word - neither does she look like she comprehended what has just been said, most of it about her - or comment to refute David Ten-Bears.

As the two started to leave, David spoke one last time. "And if you think getting hired this time was bad... try getting a job after the 'Stars fire you for poor performance."

THAT one got Theresa to REALLY cringe at the thought.

*****************************

Leaving David Ten-Bearsâ€™ office behind them, Erica and Theresa directed their steps to the simulator room next, where the XO mentioned their â€œbossâ€ is usually at. Not too many of the simulators were in use, not surprising considering the hour, but the one that is in use stopped shortly after then arrived, and the door of the simulator pod opened, with a small girl no more than three and a half years of age walking out of it, which elicited a raised eyebrow from Theresa.

Erica on the other hand went to the little girl, and crouched down, engaging the girl in a little play with Schwarz involved, which quickly caught the girlâ€™s attention and elicited some laughter from her. Theresa smiled at the sight, knowing full well that one of the reasons that Erica tends to be good with little children is also because her own skewed up thought processes are at times not much more mature than those very same little children, but it still warmed her heart somewhat to see her friend step out of her little private world without either an intention to kill or to rob someone blind.

At that time, a woman â€“ Theresa judged her to be pretty young still, thirty years old at most â€“ stepped out from the simulator pod as well, and from her demeanour alone, Theresa got the feeling that this woman does not seem to know much about live outside the military. The woman threw a questioning glance at Erica and the playing child, but then she turned her attention back to Theresa and approached her with a rapid pace.

â€œYou are the aerospace pilots that has just arrived, quiaff?â€ Asked the woman, now certainly identifying herself as a Clanner, at least a former Clanner.

â€œThatâ€™s correct, maâ€™am. Theresa Weissenberger, formerly of the 14th Donegal Guards.â€ Theresa introduced herself and offered a hand, which the Clanner took with a firm grip. â€œThat is my partner, Erica Hartmann, of the same.â€

â€œAina, formerly of Clan Jade Falcon.â€ Replied the clanswoman without batting an eye, although that elicited another raised eyebrow from Theresa, mostly regarding the little girl still playing with Erica, who she presumed was this womanâ€™s daughter. â€œI have read your codexes (it took Theresa a moment to remember that those are what Clanners call their dossiers), and am satisfied with what is recorded there. You have flown against the Jade Falcons in the Field of Honour, quiaff?â€

â€œAffirmative, maâ€™am. We both flew on Operation Lorelei three years ago.â€

â€œYour record also claims that you have outflown my former brethren in the air and space. That is all I need to know you are worthy.â€ Continued Aina, then her voice mellowed somewhat, although her features still seemed to struggle to relax along with it. â€œWelcome to the Black Stars. I would assume that you still need to see Glen for your billeting, and doctor Kaplan for the medical routine, so I will not take more of your time than necessary.â€

â€œDiana, come.â€

â€œAff, mother.â€

With that, Aina left the two newcomers to the Black Stars alone in the simulator room, with Erica already looking like sheâ€™s about to step back to her own realm of thought, and Theresa wondering about the Clanner that is now her unit commander. She certainly looked like the typical Clanner, but there is something about her that felt different, especially with that three-year-old child that she had with her. For some reason, she had the feeling that she would not need to fear being bid away or forced to honour clan rules despite having a clan-bred commander.

*****************************

â€œWait. Thereâ€™s still some things I need to ask you.â€

Theresa turned around to face Dr. Kaplan Bowles, the shipâ€™s chief medical personnel. Ahead of her, Erica already left the room, and if she knows her friend, would either be heading back to the small, spartanic bunk they share, or else heading to the cargo deck to make sure her Sai S-7 Aerospace Fighter is stowed properly. Both of them had passed the physicals without any hitches, but Theresa does not need three guesses to know what the doctor is likely to ask her about.

â€œYou do know that your partner there is a case for the mental ward, donâ€™t you?â€ Asked the doctor, confirming Theresaâ€™s suspicion. She merely nodded at the query, since it would be pointless to try denying that fact.

â€œNow, no trouble from me, if Ten-Bears and that Falcon lass already OKâ€™ed you two to fly, then itâ€™s fine with me. Just curious about some other things if you donâ€™t mind my asking.â€

She breathed a sigh of relief, having pessimistically assumed beforehand that their employment might be cancelled again due to Ericaâ€™s mental state. â€œAsk away, Doc.â€

â€œHow in the heck did she even manage to get into, much less graduate from the frickinâ€™ Nagelring? Never heard of them letting mental cases in, much less graduate before.â€

â€œYou see, doc, they held the psyche test shortly after a test-flightâ€¦ Ericaâ€¦ sheâ€™s pretty normal shortly before and after flying.â€

â€œAnd at any other times?â€

â€œJust like you see. Most of them just thought her to be a quiet loner.â€

â€œAll those written, theoretical, examinations?â€

Theresa blushed slightly. â€œWellâ€¦ I did not say that I never rendered her some aidâ€¦â€

â€œAnd just what caused you to stick with her? From what Iâ€™ve seen, you could probably have a much easier time otherwise.â€

â€œBiÃŸchen hard to explain, docâ€¦ We grew up together, and Iâ€™ve always considered her almost like my own sisterâ€¦ Just couldnâ€™t let her off on her own out there, you know?â€

â€œHeh. Sheâ€™s lucky to have you around, girl. Just make sure neither of you bother coming to my office again unless youâ€™re in pieces. Now I still got stuff to do, so git.â€

By the time she returned to her cabin, Theresa found the room empty other than the belongings they already dropped there, not a sign of Erica. Knowing her friend, Theresa figured that she would most likely be somewhere in the cargo deck, looking for or checking up on her aerospace fighter, like she usually does during transit. For once, Theresa felt like she could sleep without much to worry about, work secured, with the unit turning out to be much better than their preceding reputation, and a place to once again call â€œhomeâ€ for the time being. The Executive Officer's earlier words still stung... but she was in turn pleased to see that the man cared for the well-being of those under him at least, which allowed her to relax a bit on that count. Closing her eyes and resting her head on the rather hard pillow, she soon drifted off into a pleasant slumberâ€¦

Vampire · « **Reply #7 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:06:18 AM »

March 25th, 3080
0914 hours, Local time
Simulator Room
Aboard Dropship: â€œEvent Horizonâ€
Bjarred
Draconis Combine

â€œPoint Beta, I need the air support, and I needed it yesterday!â€ Aina yelled somewhat in frustration into her neurohelmetâ€™s microphone.

To be frank, she could not truly blame the two Lyran aerospace pilots now working with her in the simulated combat situation, as it was more of a stroke of bad luck that saw the computer somehow randomize the lance of Mechs programmed as the opposition force to consist of a Panther, a Jagermech, and two Riflemens, one of which being of the brand new RFL-8D model armed with twin Rotary Autocannon/5s. More importantly though, three of those four Mechs also serve as an excellent anti-aircraft platform, as well as outgunning Ainaâ€™s Talon by well over five hundred percent firepower at long and short ranges.

â€œBin schÃ¶n unterwegâ€¦â€ Replied Erica rather lazily through the communication channel.

Off in the distance, Aina could see the S-7 Sai and SL-25 Samurai used by the two Lyrans switch course into a shallow-angle strafing run towards the hostile Mech lance. Predictably, three of the four Mechs turned their attention towards the incoming fighters, utilizing their light and medium autocannons to lay a barrage of hot steel along the path the fighters would have to take to attack the Mechs. Both fighters were forced to veer away before firing a single shot, neither one armed for long-range combat, but the timely distraction at least allowed Aina to land a good shot from her ER PPC on the Jagermechâ€™s right side, scalding away over half a ton of armour with her shot.

Of course, the opposing lance turned their attention back her way right after that, and Aina found herself running her Talon in a rather frantic evasive pattern, trying to avoid the multitude of autocannon shells and energy bolts directed her way. Even with her best efforts though, several shots managed to hit her 35-ton Mech, throwing a slight hitch into her steps and removing part of her Mechâ€™s limited armour protection. Sitting on her motherâ€™s lap, little Diana did not seem to mind the rougher-than-usual ride in the least though, the little girl still thoroughly enjoying the simulation run.

****************************************

â€œThat was the third run we had to abortâ€¦â€ Muttered Erica to no one in particular. She did not enjoy being forced to break away from attack runs, but the kind of flak theyâ€™re facing made it a necessity, especially considering their relatively lightweight aerospace fighters. A thick-skinned fighter like a Stuka might be able to wade into the fire and survive to unload its own weaponry on the Mechs, but their lighter fighters stood little chance of being able to do that. â€œYour wing all right, Sasha?â€

â€œNothing vital.â€ Theresa had the misfortune to catch a couple of light autocannon shells on her SL-25 Samuraiâ€™s left wing during the last botched attack run, but fortunately the shells struck none of the control surfaces, and did not even breach the armour plating covering the 50-ton aerospace fighterâ€™s wing.

â€œThese Verfluchte Drecksau wonâ€™t fall for usual runsâ€¦ Sasha, you pull another run. Iâ€™ll come in from above.â€

â€œWhich one?â€ Theresa knew perfectly what her partner had in mind. They pulled that trick many times in the past, making full use of a Mech and tankâ€™s â€œblindâ€ side. It was a very risky manoeuvre to pull, but the results are usually worth itâ€¦ if successful. If it failed, there would not be a living pilot to think over the mess.

â€œThat 8D. It lays down the most flak out of â€˜em all.â€

â€œVerstanden. Gute Jagd.â€

****************************************

Even though her concentration is mostly devoted to maintaining her frantic and evasive run around the enemy lance while still returning fire every once in a while, Aina did not fail to catch on to the sudden return of Theresaâ€™s SL-25 Samurai Aerospace fighter, although oddly, her partner was nowhere in sight. As expected, the three anti-air Mechs turned their attention to the incoming aerospace fighter, while the Panther keeps its guard against any of Ainaâ€™s attempt to attack the distracted Mechs. She managed to lash out at the Jagermech once again with her ER PPC, this time melting off rivulets of armour off the barrel-torsoed Mechâ€™s right arm, but still failing to hit anything critical, while only narrowly avoiding a PPC bolt from the Panther.

Merely a few moments before Theresaâ€™s SL-25 Samurai came inside the range of the three anti-aircraft Mechs tracking her fighter, Erica sprang into action. Aina nearly paled at the sight of what the diminutive Lyran did in her aerospace fighter, for it turned out that she had climbed high above the battlefield, only to let gravity lead her S-7 Sai into a very steep, nearly vertical dive right towards the unsuspecting lance of Mechs. Erica Hartmann only opened fire at the last moment before she sharply pulled at her control stick while slamming her throttle into the afterburner, avoiding a collision with the planetâ€™s surface with less than twenty meters to spare. In fact, her aerospace fighter whizzed back up just two meters above the head of a very surprised Jagermech.

The volley of laser beams and forty medium-range missiles the unleashed fell right on top and around the RFL-8D Rifleman she targeted, with over thirty of the forty missiles hitting their target â€“ it is rather hard to miss on a relatively stationary target when firing at less than a hundred meters away â€“ right on top of its head and shoulders. Armour plates blew apart and one of the Riflemanâ€™s arms fell to the ground, no longer connected to its body. Somehow, the simulated pilot of the Mech managed to keep the Mech on its feet, despite the horrific damage it suffered and the multiple missile hits on the cockpit.

It did not stay on its feet for long, though.

Theresa utilized the moment of surprise achieved when Erica dropped straight at the Rifleman to close the range with the still surprised Mechs. The other two anti-aircraft Mechs opened fire, but by that time she had already covered most of the distance between them, although one of the other Riflemanâ€™s medium autocannon managed to make a good line of holes on her fighterâ€™s fuselage, fortunately also missing critical systems. Theresa did not waste her pass, and fired all eight of her forward-facing lasers at the already stricken Rifleman. One of her shots punched right through what little armour is left on the Mechâ€™s head, while most of the others made use of the damages on the Mechâ€™s torso to touch the ammunition bin and turn the Mech into a ball of fire.

****************************************

â€œStat-rep.â€ Called Erica when she noticed the slight smoky trail her partnerâ€™s aerospace fighter emitted.

â€œCouple of holes on the noseâ€¦ an hour or so repair work, nothing serious.â€

â€œGood. You want the Jagermech or the Rifleman?â€

â€œWie du willst.â€

â€œLos gehtâ€™s!â€œ

****************************************

Still strapped into her seat in the simulator, Aina had to ponder some words she recalled from an old comrade of hers, back when she was still part of Clan Jade Falcon. The man, an aerospace fighter pilot, and bred for the occupation, has mentioned that only two kinds of pilots would attempt something like a near-vertical attack run on a moving target on the ground: A very stupid pilot or a very brave one. Aina had to ponder which category does the pilot working for her fall into. Still, even the thought did not cause her focus to shift, and Aina landed another PPC shot on the Jagermechâ€™s right torso, this time punching through the armour and igniting the autocannon ammunition stored there.

The old Mech was ripped apart by the ensuing internal explosion.

As if cued by the demise of the Jagermech, the two Aerospace Fighters that constitutes Point Beta in Ainaâ€™s demi-Star came back for another attack run, this time coming in from two different directions, forcing the remaining Rifleman to choose which of them he would try to intercept. The Rifleman turned towards the lighter S-7 Sai Erica piloted, and opened fire with its rapid-fire autocannons the moment she entered his range. Erica threw her fighter into a succession of quick rolls and tight corkscrew manoeuvres, handily avoiding the incoming fire, yet keeping the Mechâ€™s attention focused on her.

That gave Theresa all the time in the world to lay waste on the Riflemanâ€™s broad and thinly armoured back with her array of lasers, aided by a quick shot from Ainaâ€™s ER PPC that slammed into the side of the heavy mech. The Rifleman stumbled under the barrage, damaged but not down for the count yet, but in doing so, it took its guns off Ericaâ€™s aerospace fighter. The former Lyran ace pilot did not let the chance go by and the Rifleman soon found itself on the receiving end of two laser beams and forty dumb-fire missiles. It went down under the barrage, and it did not rise again.

The simulation ended shortly afterwards, the lone Panther having as much chance as a snowball in hell against Ainaâ€™s Talon and the two aerospace fighters, and it went down within minutes.

Having exited the simulator pod and drying off her sweat with a towel, Aina canâ€™t help but look at the Lyran aerospace pilot. Except for her normal head proportion, the Lyran could have passed as a clan-bred aerospace pilot, but after getting to know the pilot more over the last couple of days, Aina realized with irony that had Erica Hartmann been born among the clans, she would have long been culled due to the mental defects she suffered from. Ironic indeed that quite a few Jade Falcons, product of a long line of genetic engineering to produce the ultimate warriors, found their end at the hands of an Inner Sphere pilot with only a part of her mind functioning properly.

â€œThat was a very risky move you pulled back there.â€ Aina stated to the Lyran while she is still paying attention. She learned yesterday that Erica is relatively â€œNormalâ€ shortly after flights, even simulated ones.

â€œNot really. Just got to know when to pull up, is all.â€ Came the reply, with a bored expression starting to form on her face. The way she said it, she made it sound like dive-bombing with an aerospace fighter speeding at over mach 2 was an everyday occurrence not worth mentioning. â€œAinâ€™t the first time I pulled that off anyway.â€

â€œYou did that? In real combat?â€

â€œJawohl. Got myself several falcons that way. Ground-poundersâ€¦ you donâ€™t look straight up very often, now donâ€™t you?â€ Replied Erica before her attention became riveted to her pet. Schwarz seems to have taken a liking to little Diana, something that neither Aina nor Erica seem to mind, and the two were playing along the moment they exited the simulator.

â€œI know what you might be thinking, maâ€™am.â€ Said Theresa, her having noticed that her friend already drifted off into her own private world, and as such not exactly very forthcoming to further queries at that point. â€œErica might have quite a few screws loose up there, but you can rely on her on the field.â€

â€œA few screws loose?â€

â€œA Metaphor. She might not be in the best mental health, but I can assure you that she is reliable enough when it comes to actual combat situations.â€

â€œWhat about those notes on disobeying commands I noticed in her codex?â€

â€œWith all do respect, maâ€™am. If a ground-pounder demands that I fly in to support him while weâ€™re still busy trying to gain air superiority against a numerically superior foe, and his position is not even in danger or threatened to begin with, Iâ€™d probably ignore his call as well, even if heâ€™s the Archon himself.â€

â€œAnd on not retreating when ordered to?â€

â€œMost of the time, those orders came from the ground. We came home in one piece. The falcons usually end up with one more fighter or Mech in piecesâ€¦ at least.â€

â€œThe way I understand you, you do not put much faith in command originating from MechWarriors, even if they outrank you, quiaff?â€

â€œWith all due respect, I must admit that to be true. Those not in the air themselves tend to lose sight of the actual situation up there, maâ€™am.â€

â€œI can understand that point of viewâ€¦ much like how I never understood how elementals view the battlefield in their battle armour, despite us both fighting on the groundâ€¦ I would not point granting you some autonomy in commandâ€¦ as long as you support me when I really need it. Acceptable?â€

â€œWeâ€™ll most likely be there before you call for us, maâ€™am.â€

â€œWell bargained and done, soldier.â€

Nadir Jump Point
â€œEvent Horizonâ€
Seeker Class Dropship
Bjarred, Draconis Combine
March 25th, 3080
1005 hours, Local time

Zi Long sighed. They had been on an incredibly long, though not necessarily arduous journey from Novo Franklin through the Federated Suns outback, across the Periphery border of the Draconis Combine, and now to Bjarred. The Black Stars officer looked through a view port at the planet that seemed to float within a vast darkness of inky blackness.

Bjarred was a rather small world beneath a large hot sun. Though it has little open water on its surface, huge underground rivers run through catacombs below the surface. Lush grasses, bushes, and trees cluster above these subterranean waterways. As a result, vast lines of vegetation crisscross the planet. Bjarred's barren mountains are rich in minerals and metals, which attracted the first colonists. Not many disturbed the peace of the mining world except for local mountain bandits - until the arrival of the now destroyed Clan Smoke Jaguars in the early months of 3050. During Operation Bulldog, possession of the planet was incredibly decided by a toss of a coin between Star Colonel Olivia Drummond of the Nova Cat 189th Striker Cluster and Tai-Sa Katherine Oltion of the Sixth Ghost Regiment on behalf of the reconstituted SLDF.

Zi Long signed again. If only more worlds could be decided in such ways. He could have had an entire section of the known universe that could compare with the Federated Suns and Draconis Combine. Still, such was but a one off case. No one would gamble an entire planet like that, especially not against members of the Black Stars. After several "incidents", the gambling abilities of members of the outfit had preceded them. It was getting more and more difficult to get someone to bet ANYTHING against them. Unless they were in a hurry to loose the item in question - BADLY.

"Zhao!" The shout made Zi Long wince. It was an all too familiar voice. Slowly, almost with physical pain, Zi Long turned towards the new comers, a forced smile creeping onto his face.

Durk Gunston, Todd Lee, Lou Crescent, Tara Young and Pierre Jaquay were the latest recruits into his Sharp Shooters sub-unit. Officially, they five armour crew bought out their own contracts from their previous employment to seek greener pastures. Under most circumstances, that would have been a more than acceptable reason. However, the fact that the five former Demolisher crew members left the veteran detachment of the elite Gamma Regiment of the 12th Vegan Rangers for a unit with the reputation of the Black Stars raised more than a few eyebrows - not to mention howls of disbelieving laughter from some quarters.

Of course, the extraordinary steps that Durk and his crew had taken to conceal the manner of which they had essentially lost their employment contract to the Black Stars made it the entire affair one of the many mysteries of the mercenary world that might be just about pass on into mythical proportions. Some parties (who apparently had more time in their hands than thought healthy) had somehow made the efforts to actually piece together some bits of information, information that had actually rather surprised Zi Long.

Durk and his crew had easily achieved veteran status with their many years first in the Marik military, than as members of the highly rated 12th Vegan Rangers. They had distinguished themselves in the fighting on Old Kentucky and then Pleoine. However, what made their performance more notable was that they had been through all the heavy fighting in the notorious Demolisher named Hildegarde. Until Durk and his crew took over the eighty ton monster of a tank, Hildegarde had been always been hit by a barrage of light weaponry that killed the crew in nearly thirty engagements, while the tank itself has almost never been hurt.

Under the command of Durk and his crew, Hildegarde actually made it through engagement after engagement without the death of any crew member. Legend has it that a pot was started that wagered on the survival of the crew among Marik troops and soldier of the Vegan Rangers. It was further rumoured that the pot actually grew until the Rangers had to allocate an entire secured room on board their DropShip to stash away all the cash. Zi Long's eyes had sparkled at that thought, and had even made some discreet visits to the Rangers' DropShip in hope of finding out more about that rumour, with no luck.

During an engagement against the Clans, the Hildegarde finally met its end at the hands of a swarm of Elementals. Incredibly, despite the Clan super-soldiers ripping apart the turret of the Demolisher and sweeping the internal with their arm mounted anti-personnel machine guns, all the crew survived the onslaught with minor injuries before another nearby friendly units managed to chase the Clanners away.

And now, it seemed that these very same crew had just jumped from the frying pan straight into the fire.

"What's this thing we heard about none of the crew members of this tank you're gonna stuck us in surviving beyond a ride out?!" Durk started, with the rest of his gang behind him. "I've even heard that not only did they die, they died PAINFULLY."

"Really?!" Zi Long looked at the new tank commander in mock surprise. "Where did you hear that from?"

"Don't play coy with me Zhao." Durk growled. "I've not some need kid on the block that you can pacify so easily."

Zi Long sighed. "Come on now Durk, don't tell me you believe in all those stupid ghost stories..."

"The same stories that saw you creeping on board our DropShip back in Zalaf?" Todd hissed.

"Well now, that's a completely different issue." Zi Long coughed uncomfortably before turning back to Durk. "The reason why people had been trying to persuade you to leave was because those very same people wanted a slot on the Black Stars, and in command of that tank that I'm assigning you guys in. The very same people..."

"Speaking of which." Pierre interrupted Zi Long mid sentence. "We also find it more than mildly disturbing that we have yet to know WHAT the tank we're gonna to crew is, let alone set our sights on it."

"Yeah." Tara chipped in. "You've thrown in all sorts of excuses from the need to get the paperwork of our transfer done, to it being under fusion engine maintenance, to having some live ammunition being unjammed and remove from its systems. Its been what? Nearly an ENTIRE FREAKIN' MONTH since we joined you and your blasted Black Stars and we have yet to even know what we're gonna crew!"

"I was about to finally let you in on it." Zi Long beamed at the five new members benevolently with rather over eager nods. "If only you'd stop interrupting me."

Durk raised a hand to stop his crew from further questions. Looking at Zi Long with narrowed eyes, Durk tilted his head. "Let's give him the chance now, shall we?"

"Right." Zi Long cleared his throat dramatically. "The vehicle that you people will be going into battle next will be... you ready for it? A top of the line, state of the art... seventy ton of pure fighting machine... a Manteuffel heavy Omni attack tank!" The mercenary officer finished his announcement with both fists punching the air in triumphant.

Silence descended upon the group of vehicular crewmen like a heavy shroud.

"So itâ€™s true." Lou whispered in unbridled horror. "Itâ€™s the Sanitarium."

"Er... the what?" Zi Long asked meekly.

"You BASTARD!" Durk roared. "That tank is cursed! Cursed!!"

Zi Long blinked. "Really?! Come now, even if it is, you guys survived the Hildegarde for what? Eight years? What's a little urban legend to you guys?"

"The Hildegarde's reputation was like a children's bedtime story compared to the Sanitarium!" Todd replied. "At least previous Hildegarde crew before us died quickly from enemy weapons fire." The gunner started. "The Sanitarium..." He whispered the name in awe as if it was a curse in itself. "The crew of THAT tank always die horribly by all sorts of manner."

"Yeah. I even heard that the last crew were burnt to death." Tara added.

"Actually, they were boiled to death by steam..." Zi Long corrected with a raised finger.

"And YET you say itâ€™s not cursed!" Durk roared again.

"I'm getting rather tired of you bellowing at me Durk." Zi Long suddenly levelled his gaze at the older tanker. All humour from his eyes were gone, and his left hand was fingering a pendant that hung across his chest. "I AM your new CO, whether you like it or not. I won your ass fair and square." He paused for a while, the tone of his voice very different from that just seconds ago. For some reason, they were held in their positions as if spellbound. "In fact, X had the table loaded against him with THREE of you playing against him."

He steely gaze returned and locked Durk in the eyes. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll take the Sanitarium out for the first shake down for your crew."

"I... but... they're my..." Durk stuttered.

"If itâ€™s cursed, and I die - you'll take over the Sharp Shooters." Zi Long continued as if uninterrupted. "I don't think Ten-Bears, nor any of the other sub-commanders will allow you to take over the entire Black Stars, but I'm sure you can do well to start with the Sharp Shooters first." The mercenary Captain's voice lowered into a near growl as Durk struggled in vain to respond. "Itâ€™s decided then. I'll take them out with me. Two days time, on the DMM exercise range on Bjarred. I'll get the techs to give it a thorough go through. You guys can check it out with them if you want to."

"Any further questions?"

The five crew members were unable to reply in any way. "Good. I'll see you planet side in two than."

Zi Long turned around and walked away from the seemingly frozen crew. At the door, he stopped and turned back at them, his eyes once more lingering on Durk. "It's gonna be fun, people. For all of us."

Vampire · « **Reply #8 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:07:14 AM »

March 28th, 3080
1535 hours, Local time
Spaceport
Oasis V
Bjarred
Draconis Combine

Aina stretched her cramped and aching muscles the moment she stepped out of the shuttle and into the much appreciated sunny day that greeted her on Bjarred. Despite her origin from the Clans of Kerensky, she for one has always found herself rather bored due to the relative inactivity usually found during extensively long space travel, and the travel from Tancredi IV to Bjarred was no exception to that. She for one was glad to have some solid ground and real gravity to stand on once again, if only for a short while.

Little Diana, having passed her fourth birthday merely ten days ago, walked groggily alongside her mother. When Zhao had said he would be going on-planet with a tank and some of his unit members, and didnâ€™t mind Aina bringing along her unit as well, she had not expected him to order the shuttle to get them on-planet in three days. The usual transit time from jump point to Bjarred was twelve days, and they only managed to keep to Zhaoâ€™s schedule by pulling a 4-G burn throughout their trip.

Needless to say, Aina found the trip rather uncomfortable, but then again, being strapped to a bed while feeling as if three other people your own weight is lying on top of you is generally uncomfortable. The two Lyran aerospace pilots from her unit does not seem worse for wear from the trip though, but Aina credited that to the fact that they had to handle even higher gravitational forces acting on them in their chosen profession.

A couple of civilians raised an eyebrow as the former Clanner and her daughter passed them by, which is not too surprising, for Aina wore the lizard leather long coat David Ten-Bears had provided her a month ago, the one with the Black Star tooled into the back, while little Diana wore a matching vest of the same material. Being a former Clanner, she for one would not hide her affiliation, but rather show it in plain sight. If it attracted some misfits, all the better, for she would welcome the chance to be allowed to REALLY trash some people after the month of inactivity.

Behind her, she noticed Erica and Theresa, both wearing the kind of jacket commonly affected by spacers and aerospace pilots. For some reason Aina could not fathom, Erica seemed to be having a purpose back on planet, for she was the one leading her partner instead of the other way around, which is the way it usually is, with her somewhere off in her own world and not noticing the slightest thing about her surroundings. Aina just shrugged her shoulders, and went her own way. She had given them liberty on planet after all.

****************************************

â€œAre you certain this is a good idea?â€

â€œAber natÃ¼rlich. We did get one bird last time, nicht wahr?â€

â€œTrue, but I doubt anyone would be as stupid as that last oneâ€¦ Not that thereâ€™s many people who privately own a bird anyway.â€

â€œStill makes good practice.â€

â€œYou could practice in the sims.â€

â€œStimmt, but you do not get some C-bills practicing in the sims. Besides, itâ€™s much more satisfying to hear someone hurl oaths all over the place after you shoot him down, no?â€

â€œ*Sigh*â€¦ Wie du willst, Erica. Wie du willst.â€œ

Unsurprisingly enough, Ericaâ€™s path took her to the exact same establishment where she won the S-7 Sai Aerospace Fighter off the hands of the now deceased Jeffrey Miwa, and even at the early evening hours, the place was already rather crowded. A man wearing a DCMS uniform, one whose face was vaguely familiar to her, stood from his seat the moment he noticed her entering the place, and she could have sworn that his face turned into a shade that is redder than most beets she has seen in her life.

â€œYOU!!!â€ The man yelled, attracting the attention of most of the patrons in the establishment.

â€œYo, Samurai-boy. Wie gehtâ€™s?â€ Replied Erica coolly. She remembered him only vaguely, him being one of the DCMS fly-boys that left the establishment with nothing but his underwear on her last visit there. It appeared that the man remembered that fact all too well, judging from his expression. â€œDonâ€™t tell meâ€¦ You still havenâ€™t had enough?â€ She added, baiting the man on purpose.

Predictably, Erica found herself strapped into the seat of one of the simulators located on one corner of the establishment less than five minutes later, with the DCMS pilot strapped into another next to her. Outside the simulator pod, Theresa held the thousand C-bills the DCMS pilot had placed as a bet in her hand, and looked resignedly all around her, where more notes changed hands as some of the watching patrons placed their own bets on the outcome of the simulated match.

Theresa Weissenberger would never be classified as a gambler, unlike her much more reckless friend, but she placed every C-bill in her pocket on Erica winning the match anyway. It is not much of a gamble when you know with certainty what the result of the bet would be after all, and even Theresa was a practical enough person to be willing to utilize the chance to double what little money she had on a sure thing like this. She knew her friend too well to know that there is no way Erica would have let the drac fly-boy pull one over her.

Needless to say, throughout the entire evening, and into the night, many more pilots, be it DCMS or freelance mercenaries, visited the establishment. A good number of them left the bar & entertainment centre humbled, with their wallets much thinner than when they entered the bar, and at least another half dozen DCMS Samurais with more pride than common sense walked home wearing little more than their underwear. Some of the more prudent patrons did not choose to participate in the simulated dogfight, and instead did the smart thing, betting on the little Lyran pilot that spent most of the evening and the night strapped into the simulator pod, taking on challenger after challenger with a grin plastered on her face.

Erica â€œSchwarzteufelâ€ Hartmann was thoroughly enjoying her evening. Even though it was just a simulated flight, it was still enough to give her the pleasure she derived from flying itself, and that she would be getting some income on the side did not hurt one bit. It helped a lot that most of the DCMS pilots that stepped up to the fray were already fuming at the â€œhumiliationâ€ she had handed to their comrades, and as such fought with more aggression than is healthy, allowing Erica to exploit openings they would not have presented had they kept their cool instead. One or two of the better pilots might have given her a hard time, but she always had several aces up her sleeve in terms of tricks to pull on such people.

Sure, none of them had the decency to wager another aerospace fighter, but at least Erica made certain that sheâ€™d have some spending money for the one bird she did have already. Some of the circuitry needed better replacement than her own jury-rigged compromises after all, and she would not mind getting a more comfortable pilot seat installed into that fighter, maybe one with a real, not synthetic, leather lining which can recline into a bedâ€¦

Theresa quietly shook her head at the growing pile of C-bills that her friend had collected throughout the night. Her own personal funds had more than quadrupled thanks to Erica literally blasting every challenger out of the simulated skies, and while the odds against her kept decreasing with each win, they rose up again temporarily when another challenger stepped in, especially ones from the DCMS, with long service records. Theresa wondered what the sentries at the DCMS barracks would think when a half dozen pilots returned home with nothing more than their underwear that nightâ€¦

Theyâ€™d have to visit the pawn shop again tomorrow, since none of the jackets, shirts, or trousers were of either her size or Ericaâ€™s, and theyâ€™d have to figure a way to sell off the katanas some of the overenthusiastic Samurais wagered as well. But all those would have to wait until the morning. Half of the patrons in the bar cheered, while the other half groaned when the latest pilot to step into the simulator pods got shot out of his Tatsu Omnifighter by the lighter Sai Erica chose most of the time. The man stepped out of the simulator pod, unzipped his trousers, and laid it on a growing pile on top of one of the barâ€™s tables, before leaving the establishment, blushing from shame and humiliation.

Theresa shook her head once more. That makes the seventh Samurai to go home in his underwear tonight.

March 28th, 3080
1540 hours, Local time
Spaceport
Oasis V
Bjarred
Draconis Combine

David watched the mis-matched pair of aerospace pilots wander off on some mission known only to them. Mentally he shrugged, â€œIf they make it back on time, so be it. If they donâ€™tâ€¦.no big loss, weâ€™ll recruit a couple more on Nibo.â€

David slowly walked over to where Aina and her daughter stood surveying the area. â€œWe have twenty hours before the return flightâ€¦ do you have plans, or may I suggest something that I believe you may enjoy?â€

"What kind of activity might you be suggesting?" Aina replied, with a rather cold glare in her eyes. She hoped that David would not quench what little respect she had already had for him by suggesting something that would force her to do something painful to him. "Please do not tell me your idea revolves around your sickening concept of physical relationships."

David chuckled. â€œSorry to bruise your ego, but you arenâ€™t my type.â€

He smiled broadly, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. â€œThis being both an SLDF depot world AND a major Combine world, there is a rather high population of martially inclined sorts hanging about with little to do. Add in the Combineâ€™s warrior traditions, and you have some potential for an entertaining evening.â€

She smiled at that reply. "I see... So you propose we start a little... trial with some of them over some inane things nobody would care about?" Her tone of voice made it clear that she was definitely entertaining the thought, and more than happy to put it to fruition too.

David continued to smile. â€œNothing so crude as all that is needed.â€

Motioning Aina and Diana to walk with him, David began to walk towards the main concourse of the Starport. â€œA little research on the way here informed me that thereâ€™s an officially sanctioned unarmed combat event going on this evening. I believe that would be the PERFECT way for me to vent some of my frustrations and possibly make a little profit along the way.â€

"It would be an unpleasant surprise for your adversaries when they find out that you are not completely unaugmented." Aina said, throwing a glance at David Ten-Bears' artificial arm. Normally, she'd deem it dishonourable to be using such an augmented body part against unaugmented persons, but that was her old clan way of thinking showing up. When it comes to her current state, she'd probably do worse things than that to survive...

He glanced at his black metal hand. â€œThis? Ah, yes, I will have to compete in the augmented category for my weight class.â€

"They divide the fighters to ensure a fair trial, do I understand that correctly?"

â€œThe weights are pretty looseâ€¦ up to one-fifty, one-fifty to two hundred, two hundred to two-fifty, and two-fifty plusâ€¦ needless to say thatâ€™ll hold any Elementals competingâ€¦. Each weight class has two divisions, augmented and clean, with a quick med-check to verify statusâ€

"I assume you have to... Pay for the right to compete, quiaff?"

David shrugged. â€œBuy in is fifty C-bills per fighter, and you have to also put up a blade as part of your entry. If you defeat an opponent, you get to keep his or her blade as a trophy, and if you win the whole thing, you get yours back as well, along with a custom blade from a selection they have on site. Those blades run about a thousand c-bills in value, by the way. The winner of each division and weight category gets half the entry fee of the fighters in their section, so the more fighters, the bigger the purse.â€

"Any idea where I can find one such blade? I have no such weapon with me... Only brought this along." She grinned sheepishly, moving her long coat slightly apart to reveal the Sternsnacht Heavy Pistol holstered on her belt.

â€œGot you covered.â€ He handed her a saber and scabbard. â€œPicked that up back on Novo Franklin from a cavalry lieutenant that wonâ€™t be needing it anymoreâ€¦ The cash is nothing, Iâ€™ll get that back just in wagers on your first fight.â€

"My gratitude. How about yourself though? Would you not require a blade as well to participate?"

David smiled again. â€œI like toys a little smaller.â€ He chuckled and let his long-coat swing open, revealing a pair of weapons on his hips. A steel tomahawk rode low on his right side, and a large Bowie style fighting knife on the opposite side.

"Good taste in weaponry, I see." She replied. Aina herself likes those kind of blades, which also happened to be a favourite of her falconer back during her education days.

David nodded. "Shall we go then?"

"But of course, Lieutenant. It would not do to keep them waiting." She replied with a grin.

<Scene Break>

David waited patiently for his name to be called up for his first match. Over to the side, he could see Aina likewise waiting, taking the time to explain things to Diana.

On her seat, Aina fidgeted rather impatiently, partly because it is taking a while for her match to come. She had already removed her long coat, leaving it neatly folded on a vacant seat next to hers, and her Sternsnacht and its holster was likewise removed already, leaving her in trousers and a tank-top that leaves her dense musculature plainly visible. Sitting next to her mother, four-year-old Diana looks at the heavy pistol that her mother had entrusted to her, her young mind still not fully recognizing the honour her mother granted her by entrusting her things to her, but was happy nonetheless to do something for her mother. She could barely lift the pistol, but contrary to most four year olds, Diana knows how to use it... Blame the clan parenting methods for that.

"Next match: one-fifty to two hundred, augmented, David Ten-Bears, representing the Black Stars Mercenary Company... facing Gabriel Horton, of the Star League Garrison!" The speaker blared out, announcing the matchup.

David shrugged out of his heavy long-coat, folding it carefully before handing it to Diana. "Would you be willing to watch this for me? I shouldn't be long."

"Aff!" Said Diana enthusiastically. Besides her though, Aina's eyes widened at David's gesture, especially due to the honour he bestowed on her daughter. Having been part of the Black Stars, she had learned that for a sub-unit commander to entrust their coats to someone else meant that the person the coat is entrusted to is eligible to inherit the entire unit should said commander die. Aina nodded a silent acknowledgment of thanks to the honour David gave her that night, and resolved to not put any shame to the unit as well in her upcoming match.

David chuckled at the expression on Aina's face when he handed the coat to Diana. "If she's going to carry that pistol for you very often, you might want to get her a clip-on shoulder stock for it... Ask the head tech, he's a master gunsmith and should be able to come up with something good for her."

"That is a good idea. Although I do plan to get her something more suited to her physique. Thank you for the suggestion."

<Time Break>

David's face showed nothing as his opponent grinned at him from across the ring. At his opponent's suggestion, they were meeting under more... relaxed, rules than normal. David thought the man had been trying to frighten him off with the threat of greater injury, but if so, it hadn't worked. Street rules were what he'd lived under for too many years for that.

The two fighters were an example of contrasts. David, older and scarred, not caring to hide his artificial arm under disguises like synth-skin, and his younger, slightly smaller opponent, who's left arm and lower leg had red ribbons tied around them marking them as artificial.

David chuckled inwardly as he saw the subtle signs of cosmetic repairs on the almost too handsome face across from him. Like so much of the SLDF he'd met, this one appeared to value appearance, perhaps more than substance... only time would tell though.

"Begin!" The referee barked.

David smiled coldly and began to advance methodically to meet his eager opponent, who rushed to meet him.

<time break>

David slowly exited the ring as the med-techs converged on his opponent, who lay moaning and vomiting along one edge of the area. He shook his head in mild disgust. His opponent's eagerness and concentration on David's artificial arm had cost him dearly when he'd caught an open handed slap flush on his ear, popping the eardrum and destroying his balance.

He shrugged. The man HAD requested street rules, it wasn't David's fault if he couldn't handle what that meant.

"That was fast." Aina commented dryly, although her lips did form a slight smile at the east of which David dispatched his opponent.

"Next match: one-fifty to two hundred, clean, Musashi Gonzaemon, representing the First Bjarred Armored Regiments... facing Aina Jade Falcon, of the Black Stars Mercenary Company!" Announced the speakers before David could reply to her query.

"My turn, it seems." Said Aina as she stood up from her seat, and walked casually towards the ring, not bothering to throw a single look at the still moaning and vomiting Star League garrison member David downed just moments ago.

The Bjarred Armoured Regiment man proved to be a man roughly her own height, with similar size. One major contract between the two however, are the dense musculature Aina displayed compared to the more normal, softer form of the DCMS fighter. He looked at her with obvious contempt, although she does not know whether that was because she was a woman or because she originated from the clans. Not like either of those mattered, she'd beat him up with pleasure regardless.

"Begin!" The referee barked.

Aina allowed the DCMS man to make the first move, ostensibly to take a measure of her opponent. The man closed in fast, and threw a quick hook that Aina took right against her cheek. To his surprise, she neither dropped not staggered. In fact, she just looked at the man - who backed up a couple of steps in surprise - with utter disgust in her face. Unlike less militaristic cultures, clan warriors consider physical pain a daily occurrence, having been accustomed to it from early childhood, be it from the beatings suffered in the hands of falconers or in fights with other sibkins of theirs. To her, that man's punch was nothing compared to what her falconer used to subject her to.

"Pathetic. Even my sibkin could hit me harder than that when he was six years old!" She grumbled as she spat in the general direction of the Draconis Combine Native.

That insult got to the man, and he charged straight at her. This time however, Aina did not bother giving him a chance, and batted his wild punch aside with her left arm, while she throws a right straight with her entire weight behind it. Her punch struck the man right on his jaw with a sickening crunch, and she could notice several of his teeth flying out of his broken jaw as the man crumbled to the canvas floor of the ring like a sack of potatoes.

Not bothering to give her opponent a second look, she turned away and moved back to her seat with disgust plastered on her face. That man has no business sullying what should be a proper competition with his unworthiness and incompetence!

"Please tell me that we will have better entertainment than these pathetic excuses of savashri." She said to David, the disgust she felt at her opponent's pathetic skills evident in her voice.

David shrugged. "The losers and wannabe's get weeded out early on. The next couple fights should give you a better run."

<Time Break>

David waved off the call to the ring this time, spitting a mouthful of blood into a small pail. He'd defeated three more opponents, but the last one had done enough damage that he didn't think continuing was wise. "I'm out." He spoke to the official, handing him a blade he'd taken from one of his previous opponents. "Medical withdrawal."

After the official left to announce David's dropping out, he turned to Diana. "When you have a choice, always weigh risk against your potential gain. Here, now, my condition is such that the risk rises too high for what I could hope to gain in return. I have already accomplished what I came here to do, to continue now, in my condition is to court unnecessary injuries, potentially serious ones for little return."

"You refuse to bid too low, Quiaff? I applaud you on that way of thinking. Not too many commanders learn to sacrifice a little honour for victory... Defeat bring no honour after all." Commented Aina while Diana looked from David to her mother. "I had thought you spheroids often put your pride ahead, though. Worrying about being called a coward."

"Why worry about what THOSE sheep think? Your honour is your own, not theirs. What matters is what YOU know of your actions." He smiled gently. "And if they think me weak and cowardly, so much the better should I ever face them on a real battlefield. Let a man underestimate you, and he is already halfway beaten."

"A very good point. If you will excuse me, I believe I am up again." Said Aina as she rises up from her seat adn back into the ring for the next match.

<Time Break>

Aina actually went on to win all her matches that night, although the last one had her literally pulling every last trick out of her sleeves. Her opponent in the last match, a smaller, much older (He is at least twenty years her senior) Combine man who exuded a calm aura, proved to be a much tougher adversary than any of her previous ones. Only the resilience drilled into her from early childhood and the fact that she is used to take a physical beating kept her in the fight. The man was good, but she too managed to land some good blows, and he felt the effects more noticeably than she did. In the end, the man bowed to her and acquiesced her victory, acknowledging that she would have outlasted him, and giving a praise to her as one fighter to another.

Aina did not take his blade, despite it being a gilted katana, one definitely of high value, but returned it to the man instead. She claimed that he was a worthy opponent, and she would like him to keep the blade until they can meet again to decide for real who is actually better among them. The separation was a peaceful and pleasant one to say the least, the man accepting her gesture of respect. She in turn would keep his name in mind: Takezo Iwamoto.

"I take back my words." She said to David as she returned back to her seat, bruised and somewhat battered, but satisfied. "That man was among the most worthy warriors I have encountered in a circle of equals, especially considering his advanced age."

Looking through the pile of blades she won in the matches, Aina found two that particularly matched her taste. One is a mean-looking 12-inch single-bladed survival knife with a serrated saw on its backside, just the kind of blade her old falconer and she herself preferred, good for combat, yet useful in other situations as well. The other item that attracted her attention is a matching set of twelve throwing knives, well-balanced and forged out of Ferro-Aluminum alloy. She would have to ask David if he can work a fitting sheath for those in her coat's sleeve later.

March 29th, 3080
1020 hours, Local time
"Guns & Arms" Firearms Vendor
Oasis V
Bjarred
Draconis Combine

Several very loud shots resounded from the firing range located at the back of the gunshop. Even at the relatively early morning hour, the old, grizzled war veteran of a shopkeeper was already grinning from ear to ear, mostly due to the arrival of a couple of mercenaries, which usually proves to be lucrative for his trade. Even as he watched the older man browse his selection, the younger woman (and her little girl) was already test-firing a couple of his older "collector" pieces on the shooting range.

Aina was pleasantly surprised at the feel of the old, archaic slug-thrower she held in her hand. If the claims of the shop keeper is to be believed, the gun model is supposed to originate from 20th Century Terra, and still remained popular enough to remain in production, even if in small quantities, until today. He called it a "collector" piece, but she would not necessarily call it that. Chambered for .45 ACP calibre rounds in a 7-round magazine, the gun definitely had some stopping power, even if not that much use against armoured infantrymen. Then again, few sidearms even among the more recently produced ones could claim to be able to do that. She decided that she liked the firearm though, and though it might be a bit of a waste, decided to purchase it for herself.

On the table laid another firearm she also decided for, this one being an even older design, a very archaic revolving-barrel Revolver, but one that has definitely seen some upgrades over the centuries. The eight-inch barrel was rifled, and whoever designed the gun had it chambered for .50 caliber armour-piercing High-Explosive rounds, the kind of bullet that would have a good chance of stopping an elemental short on his tracks with a single shot. Needless to say, that one also went into her shopping cart, along with a little something she purchased for Diana, realizing that her sidearms are too big and heavy for the little four year old.

Little Diana in the meantime was looking around at the little compact sub-machinegun her mother placed in her hand (Without taking out the ammunition. Aina taught Diana about Firearms very early on, and the little girl know how to handle on, if still clumsily.). The gun was small and light, something even the four year old girl could handle decently, although when her mother lifted her up onto the table to let her get a little try with it, she was shaken around a bit by the recoil as the weapon fired the entirety of its ten-round magazine in less than half a second. The little girl was smiling though, brimming with joy at the little present her mother gave her.

David smiled as he saw the grin on Diana's face.

Turning to the gunsmith, he spoke softly. "Do you have a converter kit for that? Preferably in .22 long?"

"Aye, that I do... over on that display there." The old man pointed to the back of the room.

Once David had retrieved the indicated kit, he brought it back to where Aina was helping Diana reload. "You might want this... let her develop her sight picture and practice without beating on her shoulder too much."

He grinned. "Besides, .22 is cheaper than nine mill."

"How about yourself? Are you not interested in some of... these?" She asked in return, somewhat mollified by David's kindness to Diana, while gesturing to the 8-inch barrelled revolver chambered for .50 APHE rifle rounds that she intended to purchase.

David just smiled. "I carry one of these." He pulled out a HUGE revolver from under his coat. "Colt Walker Dragoon, model of eighteen forty six."

Turning side on to the gun range, he lifted his arm and aimed casually downrange. Six blasts roared out as David emptied the cylinder rapidly. Downrange the ballistic gelatin torso he was using as a target was blasted into small chunks.

"While it won't... quite... handle real Battle Armour, I can tell you from experience that light armour like Nighthawks don't care for it at all."

"I think we can offer a fair trial to people inside those when we carry these around." She replied with a grin as she lifted her own heavy revolver and turned towards the firing range. Aina reloaded the six-chamber revolver with a trained movement, loading it one shell at a time before snapping the revolving magazine back into the gun's body with a swift move of her wrist. Then she straightened her arm, took a quick aim at one of the ballistic gel torsos placed at the end of the shooting range, and fired a single, very loud shot.

The Armour-piercing High-Explosive .50 shell punched right into the gelatin bust, before triggering its explosive charge inside the bust itself. It did not sound as much more as a dull pop, detonating inside the gelatin, but the ballistic gel literally burst open upon the explosion, leaving a sizable crater on the chest of the bust. Aina gave an involuntary whistle at the result of her handiwork. The gun turned out to be better than she thought.

"Well... maybe not. They would need heavier armour to make it a fair trial." She said, grinning rather sheepishly at David.

Smiling slightly, David just shook his head. "Fair is for suckers. In the Black Stars we play to win, if you aint stacking the deck, you aint serious."

<Time Break>

Just as Aina exited the shop (Having purchased the three guns that caught her fancy earlier, as well as matching holsters for them, and having her two new guns holstered to each side of her torso, while Diana carried her gun in a little shopping bag), she noticed her two aerospace pilots approaching her. The first thing that came to her attention was that both of them were clad in new jackets, which appeared to be the kind used by the DCMS pilots, and the second was the rather large bundles both girls were carrying with them. She raised an eyebrow when she noted that there were Japanese blades of all sizes within those bundles.

"Entschuldigen Sie, Lieutenant Ten-Bears... Would you happen to know where we can find someone who would like to buy these?" Asked Theresa upon recognizing them.

David just chuckled. "I think I can arrange something."

Vampire · « **Reply #9 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:07:40 AM »

"The Killing Fields"
DMM Live Fire Range
Oasis V
Bjarred
Draconis Combine
March 29th, 3080
1130 hours, Local time

Zi Long never even flinched as the dummy rounds from the pill box missile launchers smashed into the charging Black Stars Manteuffel Omnitank. They had already "destroyed" a pair of medium Bulldog tanks that were basically empty husks of the actual machines, but with remote controlled turrets and weapons systems. In "the Killing Fields" live firing range, all energy weapons are low powered, while all ballistic weapons and missile launchers were fitted with dummy rounds. There were several ranges for vehicle and BattleMech practise runs, as well as a few smaller ones for Battle Armour and infantry. Ten clicks away in the one of the command towers, Durk was watching the drill through several cameras installed all over the area.

Knowing that the terrain features on this particular range were heavy, Zi Long had decided on the Alpha configuration instead of the Prime. Switching out the overall greater damage potential of a full salvo of the rotary autocannon for the one shot, or rather TWO PUNCH, raw hitting firepower of the super heavy ultra autocannon. The reduction from three extended range medium lasers for a pair of standard mediums and a small was not considered that much of a loss as well. The lack of an ECM suite was of little consequence as well with the relatively low tech weapons of their "opponents". What irked Zi Long slightly was the inability for him to try out the C3 network on the Manteuffel. He had bared witness to the devastating advantage the network can help in coordinating and concentrating the firepower of the Sharp Shooters from behind the controls of the Morningstar, and had wanted to see it in effect again through the gun sights of the Manteuffel.

Still, he had been more than pleased with the performance of the new crew. Their performance so far had proved hypothesis that their survival of the Hildegarde had been based on pure luck completely wrong. Lou Crescent had taken to the controls of the Sanitarium despite the Manteuffel being a good sixty percent faster than the Demolisher and ten tons lighter. The tank driver had manoeuvred across the broken terrain skilfully, somehow avoiding all the pits and obstacles at the Manteuffel maximum speed of eighty six kilometres per hour. It was almost like Lou was a race car driver trapped behind the controls of a multi ton tracked tank. About the only thing Zi Long would have to talk to him about was all the whooping and trash talking he subjected the rest of the crew to. On a one vehicle range run, it was acceptable. In a situation where the mercenary Captain would have to coordinate the actions of his sub-unit, as well as the entire Black Stars, that would be very distracting.

Tara Young, despite having no C3 companions to coordinate with, was still busy scanning the consoles, trying to detect "enemy" units as quickly as possible so as to give the gunners the first shot, while allowing Lou to somehow avoid being hit by incoming unfriendly fire. A complete opposite to Lou, she only spoke when absolutely necessary. Zi Long nodded in appreciation. Like Brandon, she had so far seemed able to filter away unnecessary chatter and comms so that Zi Long need to deal with only the relevant data and information - a god send ANY commander would pay for with a limb.

"Take out that Apollo! Now!" Zi Long growled.

"One dead Apollo coming up!" Todd Lee replied even as he swivelled the turret around. Displaying understanding that could only be the result of years working with each other, Lou reversed the right tracks while keeping the left at full forward, spinning the Mauteuffel and shortening the distance the turret needed to traverse, while at the same time allowing Pierre Jaquay the opportunity to bring the front mounted paired medium lasers and extended range small laser to bear as well. The Sanitarium vibrated and shook as Todd unleashed the full firepower of the two hundred millimetre ultra autocannon at the computer project image of the fifty five ton Apollo. Round after round of dummy shells smashed into dead centre of the stricken medium BattleMech. Even before the completion of the autocannon attack, Pierre stitched a pair of ruby beams into the small cockpit of the machine. Either ways, the dual attack would INDIVIDUALLY have killed off the machine.

The computer took a few seconds to determine what Zi Long had already decided - the death of the Apollo. For a split second, the image of the medium 'Mech remained upright and flickered, even as the steel structure that acted as the frame of the project image collapsed under the pounding it got from the dummy autocannon rounds and powered down laser beams. As the Black Star Manteuffel roared away, kicking up dirt and grass, the computer finally brought the image of the war machine crashing down onto the ground.

The crew rapidly and efficiently took down several other targets in the range, some static like the Bulldog tanks and Apollo, others were actually mobile, controlled by remote.

------

"God damned!"

Durk turned at the comment to look inquiringly at the pair of range masters who had given up monitoring two other range runs to concentrate on the one which the Black Stars were bulldozing through. "What's that?"

One of the range masters, a middle aged man scratched his head, eyes wide in amazement. "Your friends out there just reached the half way mark of the range." He explained, and then pointed to a digital timer at the top right hand corner of the main monitor. "You see that?"

Durk glanced at the displayed numbers, noting that it indicated that the run had been on going for the better part of twenty minutes. "Yeah, I see it. So?"

"SO?!" The other man, obviously younger and even more obviously rather more excitable than his more experienced and grizzled partner. "Twenty one minutes and fucking twelve seconds! That's like two full minutes faster than our range record!"

"Really now..." Durk turned back to the bank of monitors that were at the moment showing the Sanitarium taking a gauss rifle round to its side, and a shot gun of autocannon flecette shells to its turret from a mock Dragon Fire that had moved up from its rear after the Mantueffel had easily blasted apart an Owens OmniMech. The Guardian ECM on the heavy 'Mech had masked it from the sensors of the Black Star combat vehicle. Rather than slowing and turning to bring its front weapons and turret to bear like most tank commanders would order, the seventy ton tank came to a sudden halt before spinning on the spot to bring its entire arsenal to bear. Not expecting the tank to stop, the artificial intelligence controls of the Dragon Fire blasted its large and medium pulse lasers at where it would had been - destroying nothing but mud, grass and an unoffending tree.

The return fire from the Mantueffel was much more devastatingly than that dealt out by the fake seventy five ton machine that was based on the J.B. BattleMechs Inc. Dragon Fire. One advantage of the tactic that the tank had just pulled off was to throw off the aim of the enemy. Another was that it brought the Manteuffel much closer to their opponent - a tactic that was of immense advantage to a war machine configured for medium and close range battle like those of the Alpha kit of the Manteuffel.

Three powered down beams of lasers cut a trio of black scares on the jutting right chest of the slouching machine. A second later, the autocannon boomed again as shells from its barrel slammed repeatedly onto the same spot where the lasers had marked.

On the monitors, the Dragon Fire changed from the jungle camouflage that the computer had painted over the image, to red, than black, than to a nova white.

"What the..." Durk muttered softly.

"Fusion engine explosion." The older range master explained with a harsh tone. "They must have gotten to its XL fusion."

"God damn!" The younger man remarked again.

Durk turned towards the pair of range masters and grinned. Those WERE his crew down there after all. "I believe you've said the same thing before, but do go on."

------

"Savannah Master. One o'clock." Tara reported calm and collected as the Black Stars heavy tank entered the last phase of the range.

"Pierre!" Todd shouted.

Pierre was already aligning the freakishly fast machine in his sights, with Lou turning the tank itself to assist in the tracking. "On it." He commented even as he squeezed off the lasers. The beams struck the rear tail fin of the five ton hovercraft cleanly, spinning the vehicle around before it crashed into a massive boulder. "Got it." The gunner grinned.

"Demolisher at seven o' clock!"

Not needing a second warning, and using the same tactic that Zi Long had instructed him just minutes before, Lou slammed the pedals to bring the seventy ton Mantueffel to a sudden, teeth gritting stop before reversing the tracked Omni tank quickly. Thrown off guard, the controller, computer or human, emptied dummy shells into the ground where the Sanitarium had been just seconds before.

Behind the cursing and hallowing driver, Todd was already bringing the massive boom stick of an autocannon to bear, seemingly unaffected by the abrupt movement of the tank. "Hallo there pretty." He grinned as he pressed on the trigger of the autocannon. The now familiar roar and vibration shook the tank as the shells savaged the Demolisher, hammering it just below its domed turret and shattering armour plates. As the trio of lasers came into fire arc, Pierre joined in the whirlwind of destruction as he unleashed the pair of medium lasers and extended range small laser. Like a can opener, the laser beams cut off the turret of the already bare and armour less eighty ton tank. The roundish turret holding the pair of heavy autocannons was forcibly thrown up and back at the resulting explosion.

------

"Dear lord. Not many survived until this point, and many who do usually died under that Demolisher." The younger range master commented.

The pair had provided a running commentary throughout the run of the Manteuffel, telling of how it had avoided pitfalls and traps that had caught most other participants. Durk had nodded at each. Inside, he knew that some of the moves that his crew had executed in the Manteuffel were most definitely something he would not have ordered. Was Zhao bringing out the full potential of his people, or the other way round?

Regardless, Durk had decided that if they make it back alive, he would most definitely accept commandeering the powerful machine on display here, curse be damned.

"That's the last leg of the range." The older range master informed Durk. Another two targets and they'd be done." He looked quickly at the still ticking clock. "And they'll easily smash the range record - by at least five minutes."

"Not to mention their strike rate is at least twelve percent higher than the best we've had." The younger man added. "I'm not sure the Militia or local garrison would appreciate being outdone by mercenaries."

"Especially if the said mercs were from the Black Stars eh?" Durk winked.

The two range masters groaned as Durk turned around and headed down the stairs leading below to the command tower. Time to welcome back MY crew, and MY new tank. He smirked to himself.

------

Zi Long ordered Lou forward, thundering across the landscape and away from the location where Tara had caught brief glimpses of a Wolf Trap. Lou did not question his instructions, although Todd did throw a raised eyebrow at the ad hoc tank commander from his gunner seat in the turret. Zi Long winked at him. "Trust me."

As the Manteuffel passed by a row of trees separating it and where the Wolf Trap would have been, Zi Long barked out for Lou to slow down the tank. "Todd, turret at two six zero five degrees from centre!" The primary gunner did as he was told, still not sure of what he was being asked to do here. "Two six zero five degrees!"

"FIRE!"

Todd depressed the firing studs of the autocannon, finally understanding Zi Long's move. Tara looked around from the multiple consoles before her towards Zi Long and gave him a thumbs up and a nod. About two hundred meters away, the Wolf Trap was literally sheared into half as autocannon shells burst from the thick vegetation to its left and exploded onto its hip and lower torso.

------

Zi Long caught sight of Durk waiting with a grin plastered on his face at the edge of the range as the Manteuffel rumbled into sight from behind a cluster of trees. The tank had taken a beating, but have survived everything that "the Killing Fields" had thrown at it. Not only that, the Black Stars vehicle had broken every record and score previously set. They would be a tough act to follow.

As the Manteuffel rolled closer to the waiting man, a sudden flash of a shadow caught his attention. "I! Five o' clock!" He shouted to the crew. The turret turned, as did the tank itself to try to bring their weapons to bear. Zi Long knew that it would be too late. The swift moving hover tank would be able to get off at least a shot, if not more before the Manteuffel could respond in kind. True to his prediction, the strapped in crew were suddenly thrown in their seats as the Saladin emptied a full cassette of shells into the side and turret of the seventy ton tank. Half a second later, Todd returned fire. Despite the speed of the hover tank and being caught off guard, the gunner's aim was true as the autocannon stitched a track of autoncannon shells up the flank of the thirty five ton machine. With less than half a ton of standard armour protecting its side, the computers painted a large fireball over the hover tank as it decided its easy destruction due to the ignition of its ammunition bay.

"What the hell..."

Durk laid crumpled on the ground about a hundred meters before the Manteuffel. The Black Stars machine came to a halt before the unmoving shape before the crew quickly spilled out of the tank. A small pool of blood had started to form around Durk. Gingerly, Todd turned Durk around before breaking out in curses.

A broken piece of shrapnel, a piece of dummy autocannon shell from the looks of it had embedded itself into the right eye of the man, most likely killing him instantly. A smile was still spread across Durk's ashen face.

Event Horizon
Black Stars Seeker Class DropShip
Nadir Jump Point
Bjarred
Draconis Combine
March 31st, 3080
2240 hours, Local time

"That was a short stay." Louie commented quietly as Zi Long emerged from the air locks after he had ensured that the load masters had secured the Manteuffel properly within the massive but increasingly filled cargo holds of the Event Horizon.

Zi Long shrugged nonchalantly as he pushed his way pass Louie, Frederick and Brandon. "Yeah, not much of a party down there to talk about."

"Hold on tha boy 'o." The Brandon reached out a hand and clasped Zi Long on his arm. "We've heard 'bout somethin' somethin' up here on da Dropper, don't ya know."

Frederick nodded. "Yeah boss, what happened? Some sort of mishap?"

Zi Long sighed and turned towards the trio - the first of his Sharp Shooters. "Look, there was an accident at the firing range and Durk bought it. Simple at that."

"Bought it?!" Frederick pressed. "We heard that the circumstances of his death was like something out of Twilight Zone!"

Zi Long stretched his neck. He was sure the high G burn back from Bjarred had something to do with it. At the same time, he wasn't sure if what had transpired on the firing range had entirely nothing to do with it as well. "He was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and he paid for it with his life." He tried to pull away from the group but Brandon held on.

"C' mon boy 'o." The grizzled soldier insisted. "We deserved da know more 'bout it."

Zi Long sighed again. He noticed that he had been doing that a lot lately. "If you REALLY want to know, fine. He was standing at the edge of the live firing range... about a hundred meters from the boundary. There was a last sneak attack by the range targets that caught us by surprise before we could take it out. It blasted us once, but we took it out." The Black Stars officer swept a hand through his jet black hair. "One of the shrapnel pieces from the last enemy ricocheted off the Manteuffel and killed him on the spot." He stopped and glanced at the three of them. "That clear enough for you guys?"

Louie tilted her head slightly. "Where was he hit?"

Zi Long breathed in deeply. "In the right eye, straight into his brain." He looked back at them. "I was told by medics that it should have been instant and painless."

The four Black Stars stood quietly along the deserted corridor of the DropShip. Most of the Black Stars and DropShip crew were preparing for the next jump that would take them finally back into the Periphery. It would be about two more months before they would come into contact with civilization in the form of the ComStar Columbus base. The the largest facility operated by the Explorer Corps, it served as the home base for many Explorer Corps vessels operating in the Coreward Operations Area.

"So, you're gonna get another commander for the Sanitarium?" Frederick broke the silence after a long while.

"No." Zi Long replied after a pause. "I'm gonna take command of it myself."

"What?!" Brandon nearly screamed. "I know yar crazy boy 'o, but don't ya think ya oughta reconsider yar decision?"

Zi Long smiled at the older man. "Why's that, X?"

"Cuz its god damned cursed dat's why boy 'o!" The former pirate exclaimed. "Or have yar been too much time in it you've gone crazy yar self?!"

Louie and Frederick were nodding at Brandon's words, while Zi Long remained impassive.

"I've survived it in good health, as did the rest of the crew." The Taurian pointed out. "And I'm not about to let a completely good tank go to waste."

"Come on boss." Frederick started. "You've got to..."

"We're not discussing this anymore." Zi Long raised up a hand to cut off the arguments. "I'm gonna take command of the Sanitarium and that's that." He looked at the three members of his small sub-unit. "Look guys, I'm overwhelmed and more than a little touch with your concern about my health, but I think I'm capable of handling things." He smiled. "In fact, the more important thing I want to talk to you about is in regards to the Morningstar."

"Wha?" Brandon growled back with suspicion. "Ya din lose it in some underground gambling dens did ya?"

"ME?! LOOSE?!" Zi Long looked at Brandon with wide open eyes as if he was mad, before he laughed. "No old man, I didn't." He turned towards the driver and gunner of the Morningstar. "What I wanted to let you guys know was that I'm gonna put X here in charge of our little ride from now on."

Brandon spluttered. "Wha' the f..."

Zi Long shot him a wink. "Come now old man. You're the best choice there is. You've been doing this all your life. Its not like you'll have to coordinate the entire company or something. You just take care of the comms, link us up, advice us on best and worst target situations... you know, the USUAL staff that you've been doing anyway!"

"But..."

"Louie here's the best damned driver around, and you know it. Frederick's not known a 'Sniper' by both friends and foes for nothing." Zi Long pushed on. "You'll be well taken care of. On top of that, once we have the chance, I'll fill that cargo hold at the back of the Morningstar with some Battle Armour troops or infantry to give you guys even better defensive and offensive power."

Brandon glared at Zi Long. "You've been plannin' dis all along haven' yar. From da moment Durk challenged yar to survive the Sanitarium, you've been thinkin' of what da do and such."

Zi Long grinned as he led them away from the cargo holds. "Now, would I do that to you guys?"

He shot a finger to Frederick's lips as the latter started to answer. "No Fred, you're not supposed to answer that."

------

Nadir Jump Point
Bjarred
Draconis Combine
1st April, 3080
0015 hours, Local time

With a slight shimmer in the very fabric of space, the needle shape of the JumpShip disappeared, hurtling towards its destination into the Periphery.

Gregory Simmins looked from the view pot of the recharge station and heaved a sigh of relieve. "Good bye and good riddance."

Beside him, another controls officer looked at his companion. "Hmm? What was that?"

Gregory continued to look at the location were the JumpShip was before it had made its jump. "THAT, Paul, was the JumpShip carrying the Event Horizon and the Black Stars."

"Ah." The second man nodded in comprehension. "Say, didn't they say that the Event Horizon was cursed or something?"

"Yeah... and those Black Stars." Gregory nodded. "I'm glad they're going back into the Periphery where rats like them belong. I hope they never come back."

"Amen to that." Paul remarked with a slight nod.

------

Twenty minutes later, space station rescue workers were frantically trying to seal an unexplained sudden breech of pressure in the control station of the recharge station. Despite of considerable age - over a century old, the recharge station had been meticulously maintained throughout its existence. Fortunately, due to the fact that the accident occurred during low traffic periods, only two station personnel were killed.

Investigations into the mishap would never come to an acceptable resolution.

Gregory Simmins and Paul Cook will be missed.

Vampire · « **Reply #10 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:08:51 AM »

Nibo City, Kingdom of Nibo
Nibo IV
19th May 3080
0930 hours local time

Zi Long could barely believe his eyes as the motorcade drove through Nibo City towards the Keep where he was supposed to meet up with the Black Stars' latest employers. Other than the Taurian Concordat and the Magistracy of Canopus, he had never known any other Periphery worlds to have such highly modern and developed infrastructure. Hell, with the centuries of constant warfare raging within the known human universe, not many Inner Sphere worlds could boast of what the Kingdom has.

Of course, the fact that the Kingdom was a single planet would have made development and utilization of resources much easier. It definitely helped that the Kingdom of Nibo had taken the step to actively engage Inner Sphere powers economically, thus beefing their national funds, as well as availability of materials not found in most other Periphery, especially Deep Periphery worlds.

Still, the signs of damage could still be spotted every now and then, a legacy of the intense fighting that had been brought about by the Quikscell Company funded invasion of the Kingdom less than two years ago. Even as the mercenary Captain sped along the highways of Nibo City, reconstruction works could be spotted at various locations, with some destroyed building still seen dotting the otherwise highly built up city.

"Your country has rebuilt rather well in the short time since the war haven't you?" He remarked to the man sitting beside him.

"We do try." The young man sitting beside him smiled. Zi Long had already started a liking to the blonde soldier who had met the Black Stars. Unassuming, earnest and open, he was unlike the very closed up and snobbish image many had told him about the Nibo military before his arrival here. "Its no secret that our economic infrastructure as well as our industrial set up took a heavy beating in the invasion. We're unable to produce the range nor the quantity of what we used to be able to." Lieutenant Ira Cassius Kepford continued with a deep sigh.

"Both our previous King, and the current one have made extensive overtures to the Inner Sphere in terms of exchanging designs for military hardware and technologies." Lieutenant Kepford smiled. "Same goes for our economy. We also send our best pilots to the Outworlds Alliance's Columbia Academy so that we could pair our scarce resources with the best human elements."

"Prudent." Zi Long nodded in appreciation.

"We have also had to cut down our numbers, focusing instead on quality of machinery." Kepford smiled and winked. "I do think we might be the only Deep Periphery world without employing human wave infantry tactics."

The fresh memories of the fighting on Nova Franklin came flooding back to him with the young man's comments. "Ah. That, I definitely agree." The Black Stars Commanding Officer grinned.

Ten minutes later, they were in the presence of several more other persons. Zi Long was introduced to a very nervous, and less than comfortable looking Professor Dextor Sparks, a stern looking Rear Admiral Vincent Alfax, King Marcus Collins II and a VERY attractive Major Emma Katz. Other than the Professor, Tom Blackburn, who would be the Captain of the Mule Class DropShip would be the only other person accompanying the Black Stars on the expedition. One thing that Zi Long noticed, other than the Professor, all the others were VERY young, especially considering they all held positions of command within the Kingdom and its military.

"I'm glad that you and your Command arrived when you did Captain." The King was saying. "The good Professor here was getting worried that the planet where the signals were coming from would actually drift off to another part of the universe due to us not bothering to send people to investigate."

"Ah, well... it HAS been quite a while since we've sent out anyone My Lord." The bespectacled man replied. "Who knows who else might have gone in to check them out."

"Out here?" Alfax snorted. "No one would be my guess."

The King turned back towards Zi Long. "I'm sorry we couldn't send more in terms of resources with you Captain. But I've heard of your exploits, and I'm quite sure you should be able to handle whatever situation presents itself."

"Your Highness is too kind." Zi Long bowed slightly. He wasn't sure if the King was talking about the Black Stars' recent actions within the Free Worlds League, Novo Franklin, or about their overall still rather patchy reputation. Still, it would not hurt to humour one's employer - as long as it did not require one to spend or sacrifice unnecessarily.

"Other than Captain Blackburn here and his Mule Class DropShip, you''ll also have in your company two of our best and brightest pilots along." Alfax informed. "They will be piloting Sword heavy OmniFighters so that they would be able to cater their payloads based on tactical requirements."

Zi Long nodded. Upon learning that the Sword would be acting as aerial escort, he had done some research on the heavy craft. The design was a reflection of the Kingdom's policy of providing design specifications to an Inner Sphere power in exchange for supply of the completed hardware itself. The eighty five ton aerial monster would be a powerful addition and assistance to the Black Stars.

"As highlighted in the contract, the Black Stars' job is to escort Professor Sparks and his team while the check out the systems where the signals originated from. You would not be required to undertake any offensive actions unless absolutely necessary. If you should run into something or someone that needs... neutralizing, let us know and we'll see if we can dispatch a more sizable force to take them out." The King continued. "Of course, if you feel that your unit has the capabilities to handle it, by all means, let us know too and we'll see what additional... necessarily resources we can arrange. Full salvage rights would be yours if you undertake such operations of course."

"Thank you My Lord." Zi Long smiled. "When are we expected to depart?"

"Tomorrow." Rear Admiral Alfax replied quickly. "Or do the Black Stars require more time?"

Zi Long levelled a steady gaze at the man. "We don't. We'll be ready by than."

"Excellent than." The King beamed. "The expedition team is already loaded up and ready in their DropShip and would join you in orbit by tomorrow. I believe my people are also loading up fresh supplies into your Seeker even as we speak."

"Thank you, My Lord." The Chinese man replied. "If you will excuse me, I shall check on our own preparation."

"No Captain, it should be the Kingdom thanking you and your command." The smile on Marcus's face faded slightly. "With the invasion still fresh in our minds, I sincerely hope that there's nothing out there except for some long forgotten signal beacon rather than potential unfriendlies. Any possible treasure troves would simply be a bonus."

"I understand." Zi Long replied before turning to the Rear Admiral. "By the way, when would we be able to talk to the pilots that would be coming along with us? We have a couple of aerospace assets ourselves and would like to see how we can work together."

"You've already met him Captain." Alfax replied.

"I have?"

"That would be me you're looking for Captain." Zi Long turned Kepford replied. "I will be leading the wing of Swords."

Event Horizon
Seeker Class DropShip
Unknown System
Nadir Jump Point
23rd May 3080
0730 hours local time

The flashing red lights died down, as did the warning klaxon as the pair of DropShips - the Black Stars' Seeker Class Event Horizon as well as the Nibo Admiralty's Mule Class Star Dust scanned the immediate vicinity as the Merchant Class JumpShip assigned to ferry the little expedition appeared over the nadir jump point of the uncharted system closest to Nibo.

Nearly immediately the JumpShip had jumped into the system, Lieutenant Ira Cassius Kepford and his wing man Walter Nowotny had shot out via the catapults from the small craft bays of the Merchant. Zi Long knew that even the most hardened space traveler would need at least minutes to fully recover from the disorientation of a jump. That they had managed to launch their Sword heavy OmniFighters within two to three minutes would necessarily have meant that they were either very good, or very crazy. Or BOTH. The Black Stars Captain reminded himself.

Unfortunately, despite possessing a couple of aerospace fighters themselves from recent purchases, none of the Black Stars machine could be deployed any time soon due to the Event not being equipped with dedicated aerospace bays. The mercenary pilots might have bitched and moaned about things, but there wasn't anything anyone could do. Even attempted heavy modification of their Seeker since acquiring the fighters had not yielded any positive results.

Still, with the pair of heavy Nibo fighters out there, and with the Event's own considerable weapons, Zi Long doubted anyone this far out in the Periphery would be able to pose much of a threat to the expedition. Hell, with the entire Black Stars trapped within the massive steel tomb of their Seeker Class DropShip and unable to fight in the vacuum of space, they'd better not be.

"All sensors negative." An infuriatingly bored voice announced over the public announcement systems. "We are clear."

Zi Long stretched himself expansively as he got ready to move to the bridge of the DropShip. Halfway dressed, the same bored sounding voice boomed over the PA system again. "Captain Zhao. Please report to the bridge asap." The mercenary Captain sighed. "On the way." He replied to the walls of his room.

------

"Initial scans indicate nothing of note in the system." Tommy Blackburn informed both Captain Harris and Zi Long. "Our DropShip's long range scan on the planet surface came back negative as well." The Captain of the Kingdom's Mule Class DropShip continued. "The Professor and a team will be going down there to check things out as well, though it's over eighty percent certain that the signals did not originate from this planet."

"Roger that Captain Blackburn." Zi Long replied with a nod from Harris. "We will be on standby."

"Copy that, Event." Blackburn acknowledged. "Estimated departure time ten hundred hours."

"We'll see you on the surface that." Captain Harris replied.

As the conversation ended, Zi Long was patched through to the rest of the Black Stars. "This is Captain Zhao Zi Long. All personnel, be advised that we will be heading planet side in a little over two hours. Check all equipment and sitrep at zero nine thirty hundred."

"And so the fun begins." Harris whispered. "Yippee...."

Event Horizon
Black Stars Seeker Class DropShip
Unknown System
25th May 3080
1000 hours local time

"An' what is dis supposed da do again boy' o?" Brandon asked again, turning the piece of dull looking walking stick like item in his hands.

"Its a remote beacon, X." Zi Long explained. "It emits frequencies of over six hundred different units - more if you program them."

The grizzled mercenary frowned and nodded slightly. "So, these give out electromagnetic an' radio frequencies?"

"Yup." Zi Long nodded. "In fact, many exercise ranges use these to simulate enemy units, with additional computer generate projects for the complete picture. I've heard of a unit, the Death's Guards I think, planting these on husks of destroyed vehicles to make really convincing decoys since they would effectively be able to fool even eyeball inspection - as long as its from a reasonably long range or under low light situations."

"Aye. Dat would take care of da visual, light amplification an' 'ven infrared sensors." Brandon nodded in appreciation before looking up at the Black Stars officer again. "What 'bout Beagle probes?"

"Don't know yet." Zi Long shrugged. "We should probably give it a try though." He winked at his comms specialist. "We're not always gonna get low tech pooh dung enemies eh?"

"Ain't dat a fact."

Together with the Kingdom of Nibo Exploration Expedition in their Mule Class DropShip the Star Dust, the Black Stars had landed on the first of the uncharted systems on the Event Horizon. Initial scans had reported that the air on the planet was barely breathable, with Professor Dextor Sparks insisting that everyone had to put on atmospheric suits. Zi Long had not seen much to argue about on that issue. After all, being hard to breath was one thing, contracting some strange disease from unknown germs and bacteria on the planet that had probably not seen human life for eons was another thing that he was not prepared to risk his people on. Zi Long had laughed at the Professor's comments that while the latter's group had worn shiny white suits, the Stars personnel's were seemingly worn out, ill maintained and universally gloomy and dark.

KoN Exploration Expedition Atmospheric Suits

Black Stars Atmospheric Suits

Zi Long pointed out to Professor Sparks that the Black Stars suits were meant not only to allow the wearer to operate in adverse environments, but provided limited body armour capabilities as well. The fact that their exterior seemed worn and weathered belied the fact that their were all in perfect working conditions. Of course, Lantern and his people had insisted on wearing their Battle Armour rather than "pansy" atmospheric suits which while lighter, actually were less nimble than the Jack O Lantern units like the Nighthawk, Void and Grey Death PA suits. On the other hand, while the hulking Kanazuchi heavy Battle Armour units from James Lockheart's Trouble Inc. were slow and cumbersome, his people had understandably refused to shed them in exchange for the atmospheric suits as well.

I wonder why. Zi Long had snorted sarcastically to himself. The Black Stars had brought in a MASSIVE number of Battle Armour units since the conclusion of the Novo Franklin contract after seeing impressive displays by them. Draconis Combine units like the Kanazuchi and Void now operate side by side with Capellan Ying Long and Fah Shih units, as well as the Lyran designed Rottweiler quad BA and Grey Death suits.

Zi Long had always wondered if regular military units would be much better off if they could pick and chose the best equipment from each House, as mercenary units like the Black Stars could. Still, if such flexibility gave mercenary commands an advantage over these regular units, so much the better.

After two days of scouting and exploration, the initial hype from the KoN expedition had dampened considerably as they had found nothing except dust and dirt. There was not even traces of flora and fauna that might have evolved to the harsh conditions of the planet. Seismic probing of the ground below had also yield no trace of minerals of any sort that might have been of commercial and industrial use. All in all, it had been a wasted trip and a waste of resources. Furthermore, detailed scanning by both the Star Dust as well as the Kingdom's Merchant Class JumpShip had confirmed that the mysterious signals that had attracted the attention of the Kingdom in the first place was not from the planet itself.

Most of the Black Stars had fell back onto routine equipment maintenance as well as making full use of the simulators on board their Seeker Class DropShip to pass time, plus all manners of other chores that military outfits occupy their attention with to pass time. After a short debate, the dejected Professor had agreed with Zi Long on lifting off the planet and proceeding on to the next closest system.

"About freakin' time." Zi Long mumbled as the Professor's face fizzled off on the comms screen. He patched through to David Ten-Bears immediately. "Ten-Bears, get our people ready for lift off. We're getting our asses off this dirt ball in twenty five hours."

Event Horizon
Black Stars Seeker Class DropShip
Unknown System
25th May 3080
1400 hours local time

Lieutenants Ira Cassius Kepford and his wing man Walter Nowotny had finally been authorised to set foot onto the notorious Event Horizon after their Sword heavy OmniFighters had been safely secured within their respective bays on the JumpShip. The Professor had refused to release both pilots from escort duty until the Star Dust had docked with the JumpShip, and the crew once again started their duties of securing all pieces of equipment, while transferring samples of whatever the expedition had extracted from the lifeless world from which they had vacated from.

Finally with spare time in hand, the pair of Nibo pilots had requested for permission to have a look see onboard the Black Starsâ€™ DropShip. To their surprise, permission was nearly instantly granted.

Like many others who visited the facilities of the Black Stars for the first time, they were more than surprised at how tidy and compact things were, rather than the slip shot setup they had expected.

â€œDidnâ€™t know they brought their families along.â€ Commented Walter as the small, diminutive bubble-gum chewing girl â€“ couldnâ€™t be much more than a teenager, he thought â€“ clad in jeans and T-short walked past them without giving either of the Nibo pilots as much as a glance.

â€œI believe the Event Horizon is not only their transport, but the home of the Black Stars as well â€“ not taking into consideration their allocated office on Terra and whatever temporary quarters their employers provide of course.â€ Ira replied with a strange haunted look at the young girl. â€œI would be surprised if we didnâ€™t see more of their dependents around.â€

â€œThey do have sort of aâ€¦ family feel to them donâ€™t they?â€ Walter asked. â€œThey arenâ€™t exactly friendly and open to outsiders, but they have a rather close knit feel.â€

Ira smiled. â€œYou mean like us?â€

Walter puffed his chest slightly. â€œWeâ€™re different Ira, and you know it. We nearly didnâ€™t make it as a nation, and when things finally started to look well for us, those blasted vultures from Quikscell came along and tried to take everything away from us.â€

Ira nodded slightly. Every citizen of the Kingdom knew about their short history all too well. He himself and lost his only kin in the fight against the Quikscell Company sponsored mercenaries. The fact that his sister was a tank crew did not make Ira blame himself more for her death. If he and the Nibo aerospace fighters had taken out more of those mercenaries while they were still cocooned within their DropShips, there would have been much less deaths and casualties among their ground forces and the civilians.

As they entered the roomy chamber that serves as the DropShipâ€™s firing range, both Nibo Armed Forces pilots were surprised to find the room mostly deserted, with the girl they saw earlier crouching near one of the tables, playing with what looked like a small, black cat. What really surprised them however, was the sight of a small child â€“ no more than four years old â€“ who stood up on one of the tables, and was holding a small sub-machinegun in her hands.

â€œWhat the blazes!?â€ Walter started towards the child. â€œHaving dependents on board a combat mission is one thing, having firearms laying around for them to pick up is another!â€

Ira frowned. Something was not right. The girl at the very least was not disturbed at all about her younger companionâ€™s possession of a fire arm. Another was that from the very short time they were onboard the mercenaryâ€™s DropShip, NOTHING, not least something as eye catching as a weapon, had been misplaced in any way. However, he did follow his wing mate as the latter stomped towards the small girl.

They never reached the girl.

A mere few steps before Walter could come close enough to safely disarm the little girl, he stopped in his tracks, his eyes riveted towards the ferro-aluminum throwing knife that suddenly embedded itself onto the partition wall less than an inch away from his face. The slight noise the knife made on impact also caught the attention of the girls in the room, with the older one raising her eyes at the Nibo pilots for the first time in slight curiosity. The cat-like creature she had played with gave a small but audible mewing noise at it also eyed the strangers, while the little girl with the gun turned to look at them, and surprisingly held her gun in a way that suggests that she knows how to use the weapon.

â€œYou have ten seconds to explain your presence and intentions, freebirth surats, or else I will send you to meet the Kerenskys!â€ Said a stern, commanding female voice from the direction the throwing knife came from.

Turning around to face the person that addressed them, Ira and Walter saw a woman â€“ somewhere in her late twenties, probably â€“ that stood firmly facing their way, who happened to very clearly accentuate her point with the large eight-inch barrelled hand gun she aimed right at their direction. She wore a black leather long coat â€“ the kind the pilots noted certain members of the mercenary outfit wears â€“ which was open, letting them notice that the woman apparently carried another pair of heavy pistols underneath the coat, as well as belts and bandoliers loaded with spare bullets and magazines.

â€œOur intentions?!â€ Walter spat. â€œCanâ€™t you see whatâ€™s happening over there?!â€ He stabbed a finger towards the young girl. â€œWeâ€™re here to prevent an accident! And we would very much appreciate it if you put your weapon away so that we can put away hers!â€

Fortunately enough for the Nibo pilots, another figure came from behind the woman â€“ from the restroom to be exact â€“ and seems to have recognized them, just shortly before the ten-second deadline the clanswomen gave ran out.

â€œUh, maâ€™am, I believe these two are the pilots attached to our mission by our employersâ€¦â€ Interjected the newcomer, a young woman of seemingly Lyran descent.

Aina did not take her eyes off the two Nibo pilots for a single moment even as she heard Theresaâ€™s explanation. Her gun never wavered from its aimed spot even as she made certain of the two pilotâ€™s identities.

â€œIs that so?â€ She asked them bluntly.

â€œRead the tag woman.â€ Walter rolled his eyes as he pointed towards the sown insignia of the Nibo Air Admiralty on his shoulder and that of Ira, as well as another stitched patch showing an expanded pair of wings proclaiming them as pilots.

Satisfied with the explanation â€“ and the fact that Theresa confirmed them to be the pilots accompanying them â€“, Aina returned her revolver back to its holster, and wordlessly walked past the two pilots, casually pulling out the throwing knife from the partition wall before returning it to its hidden sheath inside the sleeve of her leather long coat. Only after that did she turn to the pilots again and introduced herself.

â€œI am Aina, formerly of Clan Jade Falcon, and now a member of the Black Stars.â€

Ira, who had been quiet all the while finally spoke as he nodded slightly to the ladies. â€œI am Lieutenant Ira Cassius Kepford, and this is my wing man Lieutenant Walter Nowotny. Your colleague is correct, we are the pilots assigned to provide aerial cover for the expedition.â€

Walter pulled at Ira impatiently. â€œIra, the girl! Her gun!â€

â€œOh, her?â€ She said casually, apparently not sharing the least bit of the Nibo pilotsâ€™ worries about a little child with a sub-machine gun in her hands.

Regardless though, Aina walked the short distance over to her daughter, and to the surprise of the Nibo pilots, merely checked the latest result of her daughterâ€™s shooting, before giving the little four-year old more pointers on how to group her shots properly instead, going as far as to keep little Diana is a more efficient shooting position as she made another attempt, emptying the twenty-round magazine of the gun she carried one shot at a time. The shots formed a much tighter group on the center of the target this time (Mostly due to Aina keeping the girlâ€™s aim steady and on target), and she merely instructed Diana to continue her practice until she can duplicate that result on her own. An instruction that the little girl replied with a snapped â€œAff!â€, a reply which naturally caused another couple of raised eyebrows among the Nibo pilots.

Despite the peculiar and awkward situation of their meeting, Ira grinned. â€œNow, the MAIN purpose of our visit â€“ we would like to meet up with the commander of the Black Starsâ€™ aerospace assets. Since we will no doubt be working together, we would like to be better acquainted so that it would be easier when the time comes for cooperation.â€

â€œAerospace Commander? I do not think we have a formal position for that in the Black Stars, but two of our three fighters are attached to my unit.â€

â€œOh?â€ Ira cocked his head slightly. â€œNo matter, a couple of pilots should have no problem coming up with a rough operational plan. Where would I be able to locate one of your pilots?â€

â€œI believe that you have already made her acquaintance.â€ Aina said, glancing over to where Erica now stood, right next to the still training Diana with her pet perched comfortably on her shoulder. She gave a bored look at the Nibo pilots and waved at them, while still blowing a bubble out of the chewing gum she had chewed on the for the past while.

Iraâ€™s eyes widened for a second, before the haunted flashed for the most brief of a second over his eyes again. Anyone not looking at him for that nano-second would have missed it completely. The wing commander of the Nibo squadron smiled as he nodded in appreciation to Theresa. Walter meanwhile had started towards the teenager after heaving a deep sigh and muttering under his breath.

Abandoned Ruins
System TH-M482-A
15th June, 3080
0900 hours local time

David watched as the dust trickled slowly through his fingers and fell back to the floor. If his guess was correct, centuries had passed since humans had last occupied these structures.

Standing up from the squatting position he had assumed to grab the dust and backing out of the building, David glanced around the small settlement once more, squinting under the harsh sunlight.

Twenty small buildings, constructed of local stone and ferro-crete mortar clustered around a central plaza. At one end of the plaza, a small stage, also made of local stone, faced an arc of similarly constructed benches. At the other end of the open space, a pair of what appeared to be well openings sat. Any covers had long since rotted away, or been eroded by blowing sand, and the wells themselves filled in.

Seeing some movement over by the largest of the local structures, David strolled in that direction and met with the leader of the Civilian surveyors for this area. â€œAny idea what this was? Who the people were?â€

Glancing up from where she was brushing dust away from some engraved symbols on the doorframe, the young lady looked irritated at the interruption. â€œI doubt itâ€™ll mean anything to you, but preliminary findings point to a religious community. Some of the symbols and artefacts weâ€™ve uncovered so far, suggest that this MIGHT have been a Marcassite Monastery community from around the time Kerensky took his toys and ran for the hills.â€

David just raised an eyebrow. â€œIâ€™m afraid Iâ€™m less familiar with the Marcassites than someâ€¦.perhaps you could expand a little?â€

The surveyor sighed, clearly impatient to get back to work. â€œPretty much your standard pacifistic, apocalyptic religious orderâ€¦The usual â€œThe End-Times are here, and everything is going to hell tomorrowâ€ cult. Minor fringe cult until the Amaris stupidity, for some reason, that squabble boosted their membership a bit. They tended to head for the Deep Periphery to set up these monasteries and pray for deliverance.â€

David shrugged. â€œSo why arenâ€™t they still around?â€

The young woman grimaced. â€œThe usual sort of stupidity. The Marcassites somehow decided that gender relations were spawn of Evil, and that sex of any sort was akin to demon worship. Donâ€™t ask me how they arrived at those two conclusions. Anyhow, the result of those beliefs was, of course, a rather effective self-limiter on the cult. All of the previously excavated sites have been single gender communities.â€

David chuckled. â€œSo when the First Succession War caused a pullback from the Periphery, and the jump-ships stopped comingâ€¦.â€

â€œThey died of old age or disease and none came to replace themâ€¦and those inclined towards this sort of thing just joined a different cult.â€

David nodded. â€œAnything from the other survey teams?â€

The young woman checked her comm-unit for any messages. â€œNothing of interestâ€¦ a few indications of some ores, and a bit of wildlife, but no other signs of habitation.â€

He nodded. â€œRight thenâ€¦ pack it up, weâ€™re lifting as soon as we get loaded.â€

The young surveyor spun on her heel to face David, screeching in indignation. â€œWHAT!? Weâ€™ve barely scratched the surface of what may be here! Do you have any idea how rare an undisturbed site like this is?!â€

â€œNope.â€ David shrugged. â€œAnd donâ€™t care either. Interesting as this is, it isnâ€™t why we are out here. We have a different job to do, and shifting dust here isnâ€™t getting it doneâ€¦ If you want to spend more time here, I suggest you apply for a grant to fund an expedition once we get back to Nibo. Your other option is to ask Professor Sparks to let you and your team stay here while we continue onâ€¦. And I rather doubt youâ€™d enjoy that. Besides the butt-chewing youâ€™d get for requesting resources needed by our REAL mission, if Iâ€™m right, this isnâ€™t such a nice place after dark or at certain times of the yearâ€¦ plus, that assumes we donâ€™t run into something big and fail to get back to tell anyone where you are.â€

The young woman looked puzzled. â€œBut thereâ€™s nothing here... Itâ€™s a bit dry, but not unliveable. What would be the problem?â€

David smiled. â€œIâ€™m not sure, but have you noticed the layout of the settlement? How close the houses are? And the ferro-crete pillars stand between the houses at the outer rim?â€

She nodded. â€œIâ€™d seen them, but we hadnâ€™t got that far in the survey yetâ€¦. What do they have to do with anything?â€

David pointed to a few square indentations on the pillars, and matching ones on the nearby houses. â€œNow, Iâ€™m just making an educated guess, but those look an awful lot like mount points for horizontal braces. Add in the fact that the spacing is EXACTLY two meters between the houses and the centre point on the pillarsâ€¦. And that a standard armor-plas sheet is two meters in lengthâ€¦ At a guess, Iâ€™d say they wanted to keep something out.â€

â€œBut weâ€™ve seen nothing harmfulâ€¦ and what happened to the sheets if thatâ€™s what was there?â€ The surveyor objected.

â€œExactly, weâ€™ve SEEN nothing. So what would a bunch of Pacifist monks need to keep out so badly that they built a palisade?â€ David motioned around the settlement. â€œAs for the sheets, just look upâ€¦. Armor-plas is tough as hell, but it breaks down over time if exposed to heavy UV radiation. Add in the wind and sand erosion as the surface becomes compromisedâ€¦ while the monks were here, they probably kept the sheets painted with UV reflective. But once they were gone, it wouldnâ€™t take all that long before the paint was worn away.â€

â€œYou arenâ€™t an archaeologistâ€¦ how can you know that!?â€ The surveyor team leader objected. â€œThatâ€™s nothing but speculation!â€

David grinned. â€œYup, speculationâ€¦ and youâ€™re right, Iâ€™m not an archaeologistâ€¦ but I do know defensive works, and what Iâ€™m seeing here, fits.â€

He shrugged, clearly unconcerned. â€œBut we can worry about it later. For now, get packed, we lift in twelve hoursâ€¦. whether or not you are on board.â€

Vampire · « **Reply #11 on:** September 26, 2011, 06:09:20 AM »

Next Stop
Merchant Class JumpShip
Orbit over System TH-M482-A
15th June, 3080
1500 hours local time

Walter rubbed the thick towel over his shock of dark brown hair dry as he emerged from the showers. All Nibo and Black Stars personnel and equipment had docked with the Next Stop, the Merchant Class JumpShip used to ferry the expedition and the mercenaries for their mission. It would be another six hours before the JumpShip make its next jump to the following system to continue their search for the mysterious signal that had attracted their attention to this parts of the deep periphery.

For some reason, Ira had seemed to develop some sort of fascination over that young pilot of the Stars. Erica. Walter reminded himself of her name. It was not due to some Lolita lust, that much Walter was certain. He could only wonder why his friend and wing mate had came up with all sorts of excurses to go onboard the Event Horizon since their first meeting with the former Lyran pilots.
Still, they do make less dry travelling companions that the Nibo scientists, Walter admitted.

Half an hour later

â€œThe BEST way to keep enemies at bay is to take them out in space.â€ Walter insisted, his argument with Theresa over the best time to engage enemy forces lasting for the most part of ten minutes. â€œEspecially if theyâ€™re still nicely stored in their DropShips. Why would you want to allow them the luxury of deploying before picking them off? Wouldnâ€™t you rather take out ONE DropShip, and its complements of â€˜Mechs and fighters at one shot, rather than risk things by tangling with their pilots?â€

â€œSo, youâ€™re saying pilots specializing in space combat would be better than those working in atmosphere?â€ Theresa asked with a slight raise in the pitch of her voice.

â€œMaybe.â€ Walter baited her with a smug grin.

Theresa raised herself to her full height. â€œYouâ€™ll have to prove it.â€

------

Being isolated inside the close confines of an Aerospace Fighter cockpit did not disturb Erica Hartmann one bit, nor did the vision of the vast expanse of space visible outside the transparent plexiglass protecting the cockpit unsettle her. Of course, the added knowledge that the cockpit is no more than a simulator pod buried deep in the bowels of the Event Horizon, the Seeker-class DropShip belonging to the Black Stars Mercenary unit, and that the vision of outer space is little more than the screens on the walls of the pod projecting images to simulate such probably made her somewhat less caring about the precautions most pilots would take when engaging in non-atmospheric combat. Not that she ever bothered with those much to begin with, mind you.

Off to her seven-oâ€™clock direction and slightly â€œbelowâ€ â€“ if directions like up and down has any meaning in deep space â€“ of her Sai S-7 was her wingmanâ€™s SL-25 Samurai, both of them being far lighter than the pair of fighters â€“ only identifiable as radar blips and still nearly thirty seconds away from shooting distances â€“ they are facing, at forty and fifty tons respectively, both of them are a far cry from the eight-five ton Swords Omnifighters that the two pilots from the Nibo Air Admiralty piloted. Erica hated to admit it, but she did not exactly like the odds.

In an atmospheric battle she would not have minded at all to take on much heavier fighters using smaller, more agile ones, since there the extra speed and manoeuvrability afforded by the smaller design would usually allow her to get the better of her opponents. In outer space though, where gravity and aerodynamics played no roles, she could develop all those tricky manoeuvres she used to pull in atmospheric combat to some chest-crunching high-gee impossible-seeming ones, but the positional advantage she could earn with them would be less vital, mainly because one of the first things any pilot worth their salt learn in space combat is to use their manoeuvring thrusters to literally turn their planes around to face the enemy without changing its direction of travel. It was naturally impossible to do that inside a planetâ€™s atmosphere, and things like those tend to downplay Ericaâ€™s ability to bring her craft through some unexpected manoeuvres to get the better of her opponents.

When coupled with a massive armour and weaponry handicap, she did not like the odds too much, of course, the pilots are the most important part of the equationâ€¦ and now sheâ€™ll see for herself just how good these Nibo pilots areâ€¦

â€œAlles bereits, Sasha?â€

â€œJa. Which one?â€œ

â€œTake the left one, Iâ€™ll handle the other one. Los Gehtâ€™s!â€

Ira checked and double checked the instruments arrayed before him, while simultaneously eyeing the scanners on the location of Walter as well as the pair of smaller fighters still in the distance. While pilots, like Mechjocks TECHNICALLY should be able to fly any machine once they were trained, he knew that the true was much more complicated.

Each model had the positions of equipment and dials located differently. Heck, even the same models, produced in different batches, or more likely, different variants were laid out slightly differently. While the simulators could imitate the performance of his Sword closely, the hardware layout could not. He was trying to make sure that he would not suffer the consequences of making a mistake due to forgetting the location of a switch in the blink-of-an-eye dogfight that was coming up.

Knowing all too well that the two Nibo heavy Omnifighters hold a range advantage over either her Sai or Theresaâ€™s Samurai, both Erica and Theresa altered their craftâ€™s approach from a straight head-on approach to a far looping one just before reaching firing distance, and threw in multiple slight evasive manoeuvres â€“ which rocked them around a good bit in their simulator seats, like it should â€“ just for good measure. No point in giving the other side an easier target to shoot when you cannot even shoot back yet. By splitting up and pulling flanking manoeuvres, they hoped that they could pull the heavy fighters into individual duels, for there would be very little chance of either of their lighter fighters surviving if they allowed the heavier crafts to concentrate their already superior firepower.

â€œTheyâ€™re machines are lightly armoured and lack long range weaponry.â€ Ira reminded his wing mate. â€œSee if we can score some early hits.â€ He flipped a few switches, arming his weapons. â€œLock, load and fire.â€

The weapons-lock warning had only had a split-second to sound before Erica jerked her 40-ton Sai from one direction to another, and her evasive efforts paid off when the pair of particle bolts from the Sword missed wide. Theresaâ€™s opponent on the other hand had not shot at her so far, despite her already within what would constitute the long range of an aerospace fighterâ€™s weapon reach, something that made Erica predict that Theresaâ€™s opponent must be using a configuration armed with shorter-ranged weapons.

Having managed to close the range before her opponent managed to fire off more long-range shots at her, Erica fired her entire weapons load in a staggered barrage, the lasers first, then one missile rack, then the other, placing the follow-up shots at where she predict the enemy fighter would be when he evaded her first shots. She usually would not have opened fire at such ranges, preferring to hold fire until she simply cannot miss her target by virtue of the target literally filling her viewscreen, but that is a luxury one cannot afford in zero-g combat, which tend to involve longer ranges. She managed to evade most of the incoming counterfire, although a couple of autocannon shells hit her fighterâ€™s nose and left wing â€“ and ripped out her forward landing gear as well as one of the unoccupied bomb mounts, judging from what the sensors said. In return, she noticed that while the Sword pilot was good enough to evade her first two salvoes, the salvo of MRMs from her third shot caught him full-on, but the craftâ€™s thicker armour prevented her shots from causing any internal damage on the heavier fighter.

The damage to their craft non critical in any sense of the word, both Nibo pilots started turns that belied the weight of their aircraft that were usually associated with much lighter aerospace fighters. Ira had often wondered what the Kingdomâ€™s armament industries could have achieved with resources that the Inner Sphere factions, or even some of the bigger Periphery States like the Majesty of Canopy or the Taurian Concordat possessed. They had proved ingenuity in their designs, both in the Aerospace department, as well as ground units that easily matched some of the best in the known universe.

Against a pair of Draconis Combine designs, lighter as they were, the Nibo pilot would try to prove once again they the Sword was not simply a flying brick whose sole purpose would be against the most sluggish DropShips.

Off on her own duel with the second Sword Omnifighter, Theresa found herself quite likely biting off more than she could chew when the opposing heavy fighter opened fire with its entire forward array of five Extended-Range Medium Lasers and a pair of deadly LB-X 10 Autocannons. Despite her best efforts to evade and juke the incoming shots, more than a handful of the unusually accurate shots struck her craft. The three laser hits to the nose failed to cause any serious damage other than melting off nearly thirty percent of the armour plating covering that section of her craft, but the autocannon shot that hit her right wing literally demolished the small laser mounted on that wing, and came close to ripping off an entire section of that wing, and all this happened before she even managed to get into range to retaliate.

The next few minutes saw a ferocious exchange of shots from both pairs of aerospace fighters, the pilots jockeying for position, trying to place themselves in such a way that the target would not be able to shoot back at them â€“ something the two lighter, faster fighters tend to have more success with compared to their larger opponents â€“ while at the same time doing their best to try reduce their opponentâ€™s plane to little bits and pieces with their array of weaponry â€“ something the larger Nibo Omnifighters do much better compared to their lighter opponents.

One of the two duels finally came into conclusion when Theresaâ€™s fighter â€“ by that time already denuded of the majority of its armor plating and a large portion of its weaponry, as well as having taken multiple damages to its internal systems â€“ took another direct hit to its nose, this one demolishing the one remaining medium laser mounted there, as well as going straight onwards to sever some lines that serves to transfer the data from the pilotâ€™s control stick to the craftâ€™s computer systems, basically removing the pilotâ€™s ability to further control her fighter. That caused the SL-25 Samurai to plow head-on in a collision course with the equally fast-moving Sword, with the pilot unable to alter the course of her fighter.

â€œShit!â€ Walter cursed as the smaller craft shot towards his own larger fighter. Despite his best efforts, he knew that this biggest of missiles would be impossible to evade.

â€œVerdammtâ€¦â€ Theresa muttered silently just moments before the simulator registered the two crafts crashing into each other, and into mutual annihilation.

Erica noted the simulatorâ€™s radar showing that Theresaâ€™s craft had crashed into her opponentâ€™s, which only re-confirmed her opinion that these Nibo pilots were good. She herself had serious trouble with her opponent, his much heavier firepower has taken its toll on her lighter fighter, with one of the nose-mounted ER Medium Lasers disabled by another hit from the Swordâ€™s Rotary Autocannon, and her left-wing MRM-rack shot off her craft by a PPC bolt just a short while ago. While she managed to land salvo after salvo of fire on the heavier fighter, the pilot constantly turned and presented fresh armour to take the hits, and his craft has proven that it was perfectly capable of taking the punishment so far, with the only serious damage Erica noted being the fact that she seemed to have managed to disable one of the heavier fighterâ€™s rotary autocannons with a lucky hit.

Ira nodded in acknowledgement to the skill of the pilot in the Sai. While the machine had always been noted for its amazing manoeuvrability, the Nibo officer was left in no doubt that the skill of the pilot behind the controls had made this particular one that much more worthy of an opponent. While his own fighter could never hope to keep sticking to its tail, what he could do was to present an opening to the other pilot, and then get off a couple of shots that would invariably take it out. While not the best strategy, it was one of the most effective for heavier fighters against smaller ones â€“ especially when the latter did not have wing mates which Ira must worry about.

A series of high-speed, stomach-turning (for people unused to flying), and seat-rocking â€“ had the simulator been sophisticated enough to simulate the effects of multiple gravities acting on her, Erica would probably be grunting under the full force of the six gravities worth of inertia she subjected herself to â€“ manoeuvres brought Ericaâ€™s battered Sai behind her opponentâ€™s heavier Sword, at relatively close ranges, and she wasted no time to open fire with all the weaponry she had left. Even as she fired however, the opposing fighter used its manoeuvring thrusters to flip itself to face her, and her shots struck all over the broad fuselage of the heavy fighter, but yet again, failing to do serious damage due to her opponentâ€™s heavy armour.

The Sword easily absorbed the paltry damage that the remaining weapons the Sai dished out. Ira actually saluted in the confines of his simulator pod even though he knew that his opponent could not see him. It had been a most challenging fight. He murmured under his breath as the light enemy fighter blinked for a split second on his crosshairs â€“ all the time he needed to unleash the entire arsenal left on his eighty five ton machine onto it.

Autocannon shells and azure laser beams cut into the Black Star Sai like its armour were nothing more than paper, melting off and exploding away computer projected ceramic armour plates. On his sensors, the red triangle that depicted his opponent blinked twice, before fading into nothing, indicting its death. Ira breathed deeply to calm himself down as the lights in the simulator pod died down. Good fight ladies.

She canâ€™t help but grumble when the simulator went dark and announced the destruction of her fighter. That last close-range salvo was more than what her light fighter could take, and the computer registered that the opposing barrage has not only literally ripped both her wings off, but also ignited the few remaining missiles still stored inside her craft, detonating it and ending the fight right then and there. It was not the first time someone had managed to pull one over her in the simulations, but she still doesnâ€™t like being on the â€œdestroyedâ€ side of the field. Needless to say, the first thing that came to her mind as she stepped outside of her simulator pod was the desire for a rematch with the Nibo pilots â€“ under conditions more favorable to her lighter fighter and expertise, namely, in the atmosphere.

â€œPhew! Good fight, ladies.â€ Mentioned Ira as he stepped out of the simulator pod he used, somewhat surprised when he discovered that the simulator bay â€“ which was deserted save for Aina and her daughter, plus a couple of bored techs when they started their little â€œmatchâ€ â€“ was now crowded to the brim with an assortment of Black Star personnel, from technicians to infantrymen to some of the Mech pilots, most of them wearing an interested look on their countenances. Some were still watching replays of highlighted moments of the simulated dogfight on the one screen on the wall of the bay.

â€œYou fly well.â€ Replied Aina somewhat curtly. She was one among a few who does not seem too pleased at the results of the match â€“ understandable considering that it was the Black Star pilots who got shot down in the end â€“ and her voice turned somewhat colder when she turned to address her own pilots. â€œAs for you twoâ€¦ Is that all you have to offer?â€

â€œNein, Maâ€™am, and if our Nibo Kumpels here wouldnâ€™t mind a rematch in-atmosphere, Iâ€™ll show what I have to offer.â€ Replied Erica before her partner could even muster an apology.

â€œThat sounds reasonable. I trust you do not mind another trial, quiaff?â€

Ira â€œIkeâ€ Kepford ended up swallowing the little praise he would have given the mercenary pilots â€“ they did manage to down his partner and damage his craft badly after all, while being severely outmassed and outgunned â€“ and simply nodded to the challenge. He didnâ€™t expect the juveline-looking Black Star pilot to be somewhat a sour loser like this, but he figured another lesson in humility ought to do her good. Looking to his side, he beckoned to Walter to get back into his simulator pod.

Predictably enough, the faces of the spectators lightened up at the prospect of additional entertainment to pass the time.

Erica displayed a savage grin on her face as the simulation podâ€™s computer runs down some pre-match datas on the simulated, computerized area it randomized for the rematch with the Nibo pilots. What it randomized was a low-altitude terrain, with its most prominent feature a massive chasm that split the barren ground â€“ the computer tagged it as something called the â€œGrand Canyonâ€, a reference to a 20th century geological feature that escaped her â€“ while the wind was registered to blow strongly, at speeds that would cause most pilots to be wary of taking flight to begin with. Raised among glider and turbine-propelled planes, neither Erica nor Theresa consider the wind conditions to be any sort of issues. Of course, she is most curious to see just how well the Nibo pilots would perform under these conditions. Back in outer space, she was in their home turf, but now, they are guests at her homeâ€¦

Clear skies, strong wind, and a massive network of ravines below them. Sure seems like an interesting battleground, but Ira did not think it would make much of a difference in the results of the match. He had switched his fighter to the B configuration of the Omnifighter, sporting a massive Mydron Excel LB-20X Autocannon, which with its cluster munitions ought to be able to end battles quickly. No matter how you look at it, his two Swords still outmassed the Sai and Samurai pair of the mercenary pilots by a whopping eighty tons. He had offered to switch to lighter fighters to even the odds somewhat, but Erica had refused decisively, mentioning something along the lines that theyâ€™d need the extra mass to make it fair this time. Oh well, that girl could sure use another lesson in humility all right.

This time both Black Star pilots did not waste any time. The moment the simulator gave them control over their crafts, both of them pushed their crafts into a high-speed dive right into the confines of the massive chasm itself, relying on the terrain features to mask them from their opponents. It is precisely situations like these that has Theresa feeling grateful that her partner often took her plane out of those â€œjoyridesâ€ of hers, for all she had to do is to follow her partnerâ€™s path, who while often cutting it close with the stone walls to their sides, allowed them to approach their opponents while still staying out of sight and radar recognition â€“ both the nap of the earth flying combined with the terrain effectively masking them from the sensors.

â€œWhere are they?â€ Asked Walter over the comms. They havenâ€™t made radar contact with either Black Star aerospace fighter yet since the beginning of the simulation â€“ which started with the combatants set far enough away to prevent them from finding each other too soon â€“ and the situation was disconcerting to say the least.

â€œBeats me. Just keep your eyes peeled, chances are theyâ€™re trying to pull some tri-â€œ Ira did not manage to finish his sentence, for right at that moment, his radar signalled a sudden warning, notifying a weapons lock on his craft, as well as the sudden appearance of both mercenary pilots â€“ in his rear arc! His 85-ton Omnifighter was rocked by a series of hits a moment after the radar gave its warning, and he had to struggle to keep his control over the craft after taking nearly a half dozen direct hits from the opposing SL-25 Samurai that perched itself behind him. His partner was in no condition to come to his aid either, the agile S-7 Sai pulling the same backstabbing manoeuvre to it.

Trying to give the least amount of warning as possible to their opponents, Erica and Theresa simultaneously brought their aerospace fighters up and out of the chasm just moments after their opponents unknowingly passed above them, manoeuvring into a quick Immelmann turn, they both found themselves comfortable perched behind their respective targets, and opened fire with everything they had, blasting and melting armour plating off the aft and wings of the larger Sword Omnifighters. None of the damage was critical, but Erica could see her target â€“ Iraâ€™s wingman Walter â€“ come into a brief struggle with the winds for control of his craft after the multiple hits.

â€œKeep him busy while I polish this one off.â€ Erica said coldly over the comms. From their previous fight, she judged Ira to be the greater threat compared to his partner, and as such, wanted to have a numerical advantage to engage him. Theresa ought to keep him occupied while Erica does what she can to remove Walter out of the equation as fast as she could.

â€œSchon geschehen.â€ Replied Theresa as she fired off a second barrage of lasers â€“ forcing the Sword she tailed into a series of evasive manoeuvres.

Ira â€œIkeâ€ Kepford had to shake off a shiver that suddenly ran through his spine when he realized how the mercenary fighters caught him and his partner unawares â€“ They had flown inside the ravine itself, and judging from the short time elapsed since the start of the sim, had done so at speeds approaching mach 1.5. It would have taken a very skilled pilot to even consider doing that, or a crazy one, and at the moment, he couldnâ€™t exactly decide which category the Black Star pilots fell into. One thing he immediately noticed was the little fact that with the more limited manoeuvring their fighters are limited to in the atmosphere, he suddenly found it much harder to get the smaller, faster bogeys into his sights.

The Outworlds Alliance, where both Ira and Walter studied the art of flying aerospace fighters, and where they graduated from prior to their assignment to the Nibo Air Admiralty, was widely renowned to be the home of some of the best pilots in the entire inner sphere â€“ especially when it comes to space combat. Right at this moment however, many of the tricks he usually could rely on are rendered useless by the air resistance of the atmosphere, and for that matter, while the Outworlds Allianceâ€™s fighter pilot academy had a very elaborate syllabus when it comes to space combat methods, it was notably less elaborate in atmospheric combat, under the ideal that the best defense is to simply never let the enemy reach the planet in the first place. Now Ira knew why the Black Star pilots had debated about whether to engage the enemy in the atmosphere instead of in outer space â€“ they were definitely much more accustomed to atmospheric flight!

Unlike in the zero-g environment of outer space, inside the atmosphere, aerodynamics reign supreme over brute force, although it is well known that enough application of brute force would still allow completely non-aerodynamic bricks like the SL-15 Slayer to take to the airs. The Sword is by no means a brick, in fact, it has an aerodynamic profile that is superior to at least 70% of other aerospace fighters in use, being very controllable and manoeuvrable inside the atmosphere. That manoeuvrability would usually give it an edge over most other less aerodynamic fighters in atmospheric combat. Unfortunately for the Nibo pilots, both Ericaâ€™s S-7 Sai and Theresaâ€™s SL-25 Samurai fell squarely amongst the 30% of fighters that are even better off in the atmosphere, and the pilots knows perfectly well on how to capitalize on that advantage too.

â€œDamn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN!!!â€ Cursed Walter Nowotny out of sheer frustration as another series of direct hits rocked his 85-ton craft and threatened to wrest the control over the Omnifighter away from him. Not once since the start of the engagement has he managed to bring the pesky S-7 Sai to the firing arc of his main array of weaponry, which forced him to use only his aft-mounted small lasers to shoot back at it, while it whittled away his plentiful armour protection bit by bit.

Erica matched her craftâ€™s velocity with that of her quarry, relying less on instrument readouts and more on pure flyerâ€™s instinct, as well as extrapolating what kind of tricks sheâ€™d be trying to pull if she were the one being tailed. So far, her instincts hasnâ€™t betrayed her, and not once did Walter manage to bring his superior firepower into play, while she slowly but surely blasted bit after bit of his craftâ€™s thick armour plating with her entire arsenal. His return fire with the pair of rear-mounted lasers were accurate, but they lack the firepower to breach the armour on Ericaâ€™s craft despite her thinner armour. While she has taken some damage, the damage she gave her opponent paid that back with plenty of interest.

A sudden deceleration, and Ira found the SL-25 Samurai failing to match velocities with his craft, unwillingly moving into his frontal firing arc, and he did not waste the chance, letting loose with the vast majority of his weapons, melting and sanding off armour from the smaller fighter even as he stoically took the return fire from the Samuraiâ€™s pair of aft-mounted lasers. To his dismay, his barrage failed to find any critical components, despite the horrific damage they did, and he switched his LB-X autocannonâ€™s munition selector to the magazine containing slug rounds, determined to make the next shot he got count for much more.

Off on her duel, Theresa found a much more difficult quarry to keep in check, for Ira refused to allow her to stay on his tail â€“ Walter did too, but Theresa had to admit that Ira seems to be a better pilot than his partner, the same way Erica is a much better pilot that herself â€“ and his much heavier weaponry had dished out some damage to her lighter craft â€“ though fortunately the autocannon shells that did hit were cluster shots â€“ sanding armour away but fortunately missing the few laser-melted holes on her craftâ€™s thinning armour. Theresa dreaded the massive autocannonâ€™s slug rounds more in these conditions, since one shot from those could probably cost her a good portion of her fighter.

â€œNot again!!!â€

Try as Walter might, he could not stave off the inevitable. Multiple alarm signals blared inside the â€œcockpitâ€ of the craft, noting the loss or destruction of multiple critical systems as well as massive structural damage. Despite his best efforts, his aircraft went out of control, and he could only watch in horror as the Sai followed him and unleashed another hail of laser beams and missilesâ€¦

â€œEndlich malâ€¦â€ Erica commented dryly as her sensors reported the damage her last salvo did on the thick-skinned Sword Omnifighter.

It took her seven full salvos before she finally breached the heavy Omnifighterâ€™s thick armour plating and scored some more serious damage to its much more fragile internal structure. That last salvo saw at least a couple control surfaces blown clear off the craft, and thick, black smoke also trailed from the wound left by her laser shot near the larger craftâ€™s engine exhaust. The pilot seemed to have great difficulty keeping his plane flying, something Erica happily compounded by firing another spread of missile and laser fire to the battered Omnifighter, which seemed to have done the job, for the Omnifighter soon plunged towards the earth and broke apart before it even hit the ground.

â€œMist!!!â€

Theresaâ€™s luck finally ran out on her when Ira managed to get her to overshoot his craft for the third time, and despite her best attempts at evasive manoeuvres, the Nibo pilot landed a direct hit with his massive autocannon â€“ one that literally ripped half of the right wing of Theresaâ€™s Samurai aerospace fighter off its fuselage. She had to literally pull every ounce of her piloting skills to get her craft back under control with such damage, and she would have presented a sitting duck for Ira to shoot at, but Erica got his attention off Theresaâ€™s stricken craft by way of unloading one of her few remaining missile salvoes all over the Swordâ€™s fuselage, giving Theresa the precious few moments she needed to stabilize her badly damaged craft and rejoin the fray.

It took Ira less than a few seconds to regain control of his craft, but those few seconds were also all his opponents need to stabilize the one craft he badly damaged to turn the situation into a two-on-one, which does not bode well considering the damage his fighter has taken already. With the intent of forcing the damaged fighter to take perhaps one chance too many â€“ as well as paying the ladies back for the earlier backstab â€“ he pushed his fighter into a dive that brought him right into the ravine itself, gritting his teeth and pulling every ounce of his piloting skills to fly through the winding canyon at high speeds.

Without any hesitation, Erica brought her S-7 Sai into a dive, following Iraâ€™s Sword into the chasm. It was a good move on his part, sheâ€™d admit, for in the confines of the chasm they would not be able to gang up on him, and Theresaâ€™s craft was in no condition for another run through the chasm anyway, not with half its wing missing. Instead, she had Theresa remain on guard above and at a distance, keeping an eye for when the Nibo craft would emerge back out, while she herself threw her fighter in close pursuit, trading laser fire whenever she has him on her sights, while saving up her remaining few missiles for when she can get a really good shot at him.

By now he realized that the Black Star pilots were not being sore losers when they asked for a rematch, because judging from the way the Sai pilot moved her 40-ton craft in his pursuit, he knew that whichever one of the ladies piloting it would have been able to literally fly circles around him in the atmosphere. She made her point by shooting at him with her lasers whenever the chance to do so presented itself, whereas he has had to spend all his concentration into flying just to keep himself from crashing. He knew that he would not be able to outfly her this way, so he looked for another way, which presented itself to him when the twisting canyon provided a short straight section that ended in a steep turn. He fired his missiles right against the wall of rock, a split second before he pulled up to avoid the resulting shower of boulders.

He is good, Erica would admit that without any problems, but if he had thought to lose her or cause her to crash here in the chasm, he needed to do much better. Having slowed down to match velocities with her quarry, the flight through the chasm â€“ despite it happening at speeds close to mach 1 â€“ felt as if in slow motion to her, but then again, she had flown through narrower chasms at higher speeds in larger planes. It was only when Ira used his missiles to cause a shower of rocks to fill her path â€“ he had already pulled up to avoid the rocks his missiles blasted all over the place â€“ that she had a difficult situation in hand. Undeterred, she fired a salvo out from her own missile launchers as she pulled up â€“ the missiles hitting a few of the flying boulders by chance and blasting them apart, sparing her fighter the worst of the mess, and she emerged out of the dust-cloud with only a couple of dents on her armor.

Ira found a warm welcome as he pulled up however, for Theresa had been waiting for just that and fired all her remaining five lasers to melt off most of the remaining armor on his craft, as well as demolishing one of his wing-mounted SRM racks. Before he could even bring his remaining weaponry to bear, Erica emerged out of the dust-cloud and unloaded her last missile salvo into his damaged craft, with fatal results, for one of her missiles exploded right inside the ammunition storage of the Sword. Despite the CASE system protecting the ammunition storage, the explosion was more than the damaged structure of the omnifighter could take, and it literally broke into pieces in mid-air, ending the simulation right then and there.

â€œThat is better. Now I see how you managed to outfly pilots from my former clan.â€ Said Aina when the mercenary pilots stepped out of their cockpits amongst the cheer of the spectators filing up the simulation bay.

â€œDanke. The Sai ainâ€™t a bad bird, but Iâ€™d still prefer my old ride.â€ Replied Erica as she approached Diana, who handed Schwarz over to her. The little cat-like creature climbed up on the leather jacket she wore before sitting comfortably on its usual perch on Ericaâ€™s shoulder.

By that time, Ira and Walter had exited their own simulator pods and made their way towards the ladies. Ira with a wry grin on his face. "Well done ladies. I am glad that we had hired you for this job." Walter nodded mutely beside his wing mate. "I for one would be able to fight with greater confidence even against long odds with your skills."

His view moved from Aina to Theresa, before finally resting to the diminutive Erica. Her focus was obviously on something else entirely now that the simulations had ended. He turned back to Aina and Theresa. "We'll be making our way back to the Next Stop than. Good day."

"Event Horizon"
Seeker Class Drop-Ship
Orbit over System TH-M482-A
15th June, 3080
2200 hours local time

David waited until the gathering had finished and the two Nibo pilots had left for their ship before approaching Aina and her two pilots. "Interesting choices.... I understand the decision to start the fight in atmosphere running clean, but given the mismatch in tonnage for the space portion of the contest, why didn't you start off with a wing load?"

"Rockets aren't exactly any more effective against those flying bricks." Replied Erica curtly. "And bringing them along would just negate the speed advantage my bird got."

David nodded. "I agree that rocket packs would a bit of a surprise, but not as effective as we might like, but I was thinking of something a little.... bigger."

David smiled a predatory grin. "Your two birds have thrust to burn, but not a lot of long range weapons. Your weapons are also relatively light, for the most part. This forced you to get well into their range and try to sand your way through their shells. Why not wing load a disposable weapon as your opener? Something fired from a longer range that can open a few good holes for later.... might even punch through their armour and hit something delicate of you get lucky. I'm thinking maybe an Air-to-Air Arrow IV, or maybe a few Thunderbolt one shots." He shrugged. "Lead off with them, and follow them in close.... Once you fire them, your thrust profile will return to normal, and even if you don't get any solid hits, just forcing them into evasive manoeuvre might let you get closer without having to run a gauntlet of fire."

Theresa's eyes widened at the remark, for not many commanders would be generous enough to even consider allowing fighter pilots like them to think about, much less use that kind of expensive underwing munitions just for dogfights, most preferring to keep the expensive missiles for ground bombardment. Erica just gave a silent whistle at the idea, and her eyes narrowed, with a predatory grin forming on her lips that mimic the one on David's.

"If you go a few of those to spare... that's a different matter altogether. Nice of you to offer, boss. Usually I'd have to sneak some off the warehouse in the middle of the night to use one that way."

David just shrugged. "Don't look at me, your ammo expenditures go through Aina. I'm just suggesting something in case you decide to have a little rematch." His grin stayed fixed. "Of course, I'll want a little advanced warning, so I can place some bets first."

"And as for using those sorts of things on a mission, well, they might be a little pricey, but I've always found ammo cheaper than pilots and aeros.... But if you must look at it from a pure military perspective, I could also make a case for establishing air dominance early on, being cheaper in the long run, and both tactically and strategically important."

"Try saying that to General Steiner." Came the reply from Erica. "For that matter... try explaining to a Steiner that you used an Arrow IV missile to shoot down one plane instead of bombing the ground forces, and see if they do not give you a lecture about economics and costs and all those Quatsch."

"That description reminded me of Diamond Sharks..." Mentioned Aina.

"Pretty apt analogy, ma'am. Whoever said that the Steiners were merchants first, generals second, couldn't be more right, even though we used to work for them." Offered Theresa in return.

"I do not think we have these Thunderbolts you mention in the stock. Make certain to remind me to get a supply the next chance we get... and an extra supply of Arrow IVs too." Said Aina. Being from the clan, even though she now lived as a mercenary, cost comes as a distant secondary concern to her when it is matched against the ability to kill enemies off faster.

David just chuckled softly. "I imagine we'll be able to get both when we return to Nibo. They have a rather thriving weapons industry, and build those fighters that their pilots were using. I don't imagine we'll have any trouble purchasing a few missiles.... Of course, until then, the stats are in the sims. Just because we don't have any on hand, doesn't mean you can't "Practice" a little for when we do.... and if that practice happened to include a rematch...."

"Jawohl, boss. Nice to be working with you." Replied Erica with a gesture that could barely pass as a salute in stricter military institutions. Even then her mind mentally calculated the amount of ordinance their planes could carry underwing. She knows that Theresa's Samurai could easily carry a pair of Arrow IVs, while her own craft can carry one, with a little extra room, now to consider the best way to pile the most into the available space...

************************

David waited for Aina to catch up to him, curiosity showed on her face clearly.

"Why?"

"Why what? David responded.

"Why bring up the weapons now, and help to set up a rematch? I thought you did not like Pilot Erica, quiaff?

David just shrugged. "I still don't think she's a good choice. She's erratic and unstable, and she's going to get herself and her friend killed one of these days... but, I'll be damned if I leave a Black Star to swallow a loss without the chance to get even."

"You people of the Inner Sphere keeps amazing me at times. Here I thought I would not hear such words now that I am no longer among the clans." She said. "Those pilots from Nibo are good, however. I may not be any expert in aerospace combat, but I would say they handled their crafts well."

August 1st, 3079
1600 Hours, Shipâ€™s Time
Rec-Deck
Dropship â€œEvent Horizonâ€
System #: DD-456-M-2
Deep Periphery

Davidâ€™s face showed mild boredom as he cued the next aerial photograph to be projected. â€œMost of the orbital scan showed nothing until we got to this section.â€ He pointed out a few obviously man made structures. â€œIt appears to be a mining camp on first glance, but the second and third orbital passes, along with radio intercepts show it to be a Pirate base. Probably a wildcat mining team got taken over and the mine captured from them.â€

David shrugged, indifferent to the real origin of the site. â€œEither way, our best evaluation at this time is around a company of Mechs, supported by a few vehicles and techs. This doesnâ€™t count any slaves they may have of course.

Lieutenant Conti spoke up. â€œWhy the domes? Is there some reason why a hostile environment camp? And was the DropShip spotted? Are they in a defensive posture?â€

David shook his head. â€œWe donâ€™t have any indication that they detected our overflights. Zhao believes that they are relying on obscurity for defense, and have avoided setting up a sensor grid because thatâ€™s easily detectable.â€ He frowned. â€œPersonally I think it more likely that they are probably just lazy, sloppy bastards, who didnâ€™t want to do the work or watch the monitors. As for the domes, wellâ€¦. the atmosphere isnâ€™t toxic, but there isnâ€™t a whole lot of it either. Anyone outside a dome, Mech or adapted vehicle has only a short time before hypoxia sets inâ€¦. maybe ten minutes or so, shorter if exerting.â€

David shrugged. â€œOn the plus side, low atmosphere pressure and oxygen count means that inferno rounds are less effective, if they were to try to use them on anyone.â€

â€œWhat about their transport?â€ Gallagher piped up from the back of the room. â€œHave we seen any DropShips?â€

David nodded. â€œOver hereâ€¦â€ He called up another photo-recon image. â€œThey have a Mule class DropShip, and a Leopard. Weâ€™re thinking that most of the Mechs are stored on-board, with the personnel shuttled back and forth via ground vehicle.â€

â€œJumpShip?â€ Gallagher followed up on his first question.

â€œNot yet.â€ David yawned. â€œThe shipâ€™s captain believes they are likely at the opposite jump point from where we jumped in system. Which means we were likely masked by the systemâ€™s sun, and neither of us could detect each other.â€

â€œWhen do we attack?â€ Glen smiled, the former clansman was clearly eager for a fight.

â€œWe donâ€™t.â€ David drawled.

â€œWHAT!â€ At least half a dozen voices blurted out in shock, followed by quiet grumbling.

â€œI was quite clear.â€ David spoke softly. â€œWe will NOT be attacking at this time.â€

â€œBut, we could take them by surprise and crush them easily! Why wouldnâ€™t we attack scum such as those worthless Surats?â€ Glen clearly was confused by his commanderâ€™s orders. From the expressions of several of the others in the room, he was not the only one.

David shrugged. â€œNot in the contract.â€

â€œButâ€¦â€

David glared at Glen. â€œI am not in the habit of repeating orders!â€

As Glen subsided, visibly unhappy, David ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. â€œLook, I understand the temptation, believe me I doâ€¦. But right now, under THIS contract, all weâ€™re being paid to do is guard the surveyors and keep our mouths shut about whatever they might find. Thatâ€™s IT! Not charge off on some noble quest to rid the Periphery of every Pirate band we happen across. Weâ€™re not getting paid enough for that! Not on basic security rates and no provision for salvage rights!â€

He smiled slightly, just a hint of humour on his lips. â€œNow, if Nibo decides they want to HIRE us to do just thatâ€¦.. for a more appropriate rate for a combat contractâ€¦.. we might just be back to bring this little group to account.â€

He glared out over the small briefing room. â€œUntil then, I donâ€™t want to hear any more about it, got it?! Good!â€

He gathered up his notes. â€œWeâ€™re headed back to the JumpShip and jumping out for DCP-1336TG as soon as we get there. Once weâ€™ve recharged, weâ€™ll be heading back to Nibo to report. Any questions? Good, now letâ€™s not get sloppy because weâ€™re headed back to the barn, we might yet run into something out here.â€

From way in the back, where Ainaâ€™s sub-unit clustered, Theresaâ€™s voice floated forward. â€œWhen we did the orbital sweeps, were there any indications of enemy aerospace forces? In case we come back, Iâ€™d like to know what to prepare for.â€

David nodded in her direction. â€œWe have no direct evidence of aerospace fighters, but as you know, the Leopard has bays for two, and we have no idea what kind or how many other DropShips they might have besides these two. I would have to say, for the purposes of simsâ€¦. assume they have six fighters. They probably donâ€™t have that many, but plan for the worst case, and hope for better.â€ He glanced back down toward his notes.

â€œRightâ€¦ thatâ€™s it for now. I want everyone secured for jump by 2200 hoursâ€¦. Dismissed.â€ As the Black Star troopers filed out of the large room, some of them grumbled under their breath about not going after the pirates, but none of them made a formal objection. They understood the reasoningâ€¦ even agreed with it, but that didnâ€™t mean they liked it.

David leaned back on one of the couches. There was a downside to having aggressive troops, and this was one of them. Sometimes it was harder to get them NOT to fight. He sighed, at least most of them understood the concepts of â€œAppropriate time and placeâ€ and â€œStaying on taskâ€.

After the system with the abandoned monastery, theyâ€™d next found one with nothing but half a dozen huge asteroid fields circling a dying star. The only sign of human activity in that system had been a radioactive lump of metal that might at one time have been a ship. But sometime in the past, probably hundreds of years ago, an unknown force had nuked it into slag. Whoever had done it, wasnâ€™t taking any chances, even today it remained too radioactive to get near without much greater protections than were carried on this mission.

David smiled slightly, heâ€™d thought it was going to devolve into a fistfight in the system after that. At first, theyâ€™d thought they had found what they were looking for, but it quickly became obvious that the local population was in no way capable of sending the sorts of signals that Nibo had been detecting.

The Star League era plague beacons in orbit told the beginning of the tale, but it didnâ€™t take much to piece together the rest.

Centuries in the past, the planet had been a thriving colony, poised to become a bright spot in the periphery, a jewel of civilization in the darkness. But then came the Amaris Coup, and Kerenskyâ€™s campaign to retake Terra. All but ignored, still the colony survived, even prospered. The population soared, fuelled by a benign climate and swelled by refugees from the conflicts raging across the inner sphere.

But it all came to naught. The beacon didnâ€™t list the source of the plague, if the placer ever knew. But whether a Bio-terror weapon intentionally employed, an accidental release from a research lab, or the simple mutation of a naturally occurring virus, the result was the same.

Dubbed the â€œZombie Plagueâ€ by the doctor whose files were attached to the beacons, it turned men, women, and children into mindless brutes, prone to explode into senseless violence at the slightest event. Attacking the central nervous system like Rabies, the plague spread rapidly, plunging the nascent colony into chaos and death.

Lacking the resources to combat the plague, And not even able to isolate the specific virus that caused it, much less create a treatment or vaccine, the authorities had placed the beacons and declared the planet under perpetual quarantine, sacrificing those on the planet in order to prevent any further spread of the disease.

Surprisingly though, there were survivors. David guessed theyâ€™d either somehow managed to avoid contamination, or that there was a genetic component that made them immune to infection. Probably around six to eight percent of the original population had lived to try to salvage what they could from the ashes.

Overall David thought theyâ€™d done pretty well to salvage what they had and rebuild to where they were today. Steam engines and telegraph communications were now the cutting edge for the population, which seemed to be growing slowly, but steadily, from what could be seen from orbit.

The arguments had arisen when certain members of the science team wanted to land and investigate the planet, despite the quarantine, and had been soundly vetoed by both the shipâ€™s captain, and the Black Stars.

The landing faction had argued that the disease was likely gone, or at least mutated into a harmless form by now, citing the existence of the population as evidence. But, the Non-landing faction had again vetoed the landing idea, on the basis that not only did they know almost nothing about the vector and biology of the disease, that the quarantine was a permanent one, and that anyone that landed was STAYING landedâ€¦ period. Even if they had to shoot down anyone that tried to take off again. The JumpShip Captain had also declared that heâ€™d scuttle his ship with all aboard before risking taking something like that back to Nibo.

Standing and stretching, David grabbed a cold beer from one of the small coolers scattered around the rec-deck. Taking a sip, he started for his quarters to get ready for the jump. Just a little while longer and theyâ€™d be back at Nibo. Maybe theyâ€™d be back to deal with the Pirates, maybe not. Right now, David didnâ€™t much care.

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Author Topic: Contract 3 - Rumblings from the Deep Periphery (Kingdom of Nibo Main Contract) (Read 20690 times)

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Contract 3 - Rumblings from the Deep Periphery (Kingdom of Nibo Main Contract)

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