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Zeroth


E P I S O D E I:
B O R N T O L O S E


PROLOGUE:
TWO YEARS AGO


DropShip No Leaf Clover
En route from Espia System zenith Jump Point to planet Espia 4
Andurien Commonality, Capellan Confederation
February 23rd, 3028


“Anyone got a pencil I can borrow?” asked Bobby Taggart, callsign ‘Golden Boy,’ as he slouched in his chair.

“The hell do you need a pencil for?” Lena von Kemp, callsign ‘Wrathchild,’ asked from behind him, arms crossed.

“Just want to keep my tally going,” Bobby grinned. “The bossman loves to make his speeches, so I like to keep track of how many times I’ve heard his favorite catch phrases.”

He held up a small notepad, on which were written a handful of phrases. “We do the job and we do it right,” “Trust your training, trust your lancemates,” “Information is ammunition,” and so on. Next to each phrase was a row of tick marks.

Lena rolled her eyes. Golden Boy had been given his callsign due to how quickly he had shot up the ranks. 21, and already a lance commander. A lot of the other Mechwarriors in Gawain’s Green Knights grumbled and said he was too big for his breeches, but none of them could come close to his scores in the sim pods. And with three confirmed ‘Mech kills during the last campaign, he could back up his boasting.

That didn’t make him less of an asshole, though.

“All right, boys and girls, on your feet!” came the voice of Captain Sally Roth, the platinum-haired Dropship captain making her presence known as she strode into the crowded briefing room of her ship. “Commanding officer on deck!”

The briefing room filled with the sounds of rustling uniforms and scuffing boots. Some of the more professional soldiers, like the longtime Knights original Raven “Family Man” Rivers, or the new recruit Ingrid “Ramrod” Daschke, snapped to quick attention. Others, like Golden Boy or the often languid Emma “Alleycat” Ziska, took their time rising from their seats, with little regard for military decorum. The murmurs and grumbles, however, came to a stop when the Colonel entered.

“Ladies…gentlemen…Mechwarriors,” he began, as Golden Boy added a mental tick to the list, “much of the information we’ll be going over in today’s briefing we already discussed when you signed on. However, to make sure there are no misunderstandings, no miscommunications, and no misinformation, I will be treating you as if today is your very first day in the Inner Sphere.”

Colonel Gaius Wayne, callsign “Gawain,” paced back and forth in front of the briefing room with a deliberate gait, giving an appraising look to the Green Knights. Golden Boy had never been particularly close with the Colonel, but he’d seen him sit in on the occasional poker night in the galley. Some of Golden Boy’s fellow Knights, like Wrathchild or Reya the weapons engineer, saw him as a mentor or father-figure. Some of the older folks, like Family Man or Master Sergeant Dalton, looked at him as an old friend. Today, though, he was all business, which honestly made it that much harder for Golden Boy to take him seriously.

“As you know,” Colonel Wayne continued, “our client for this contract is the Capellan Confederation. House Liao is paying us a significant amount to reinforce their garrison on the border world of Espia. Breathable atmosphere, gravity within 0.1 of standard G, day-night cycle is 36 standard hours broken up into four 9-hour shifts. The water on Espia is extremely salty, with no natural freshwater on-planet. Because of this, the citizens are dependent on a series of offshore desalination platforms for usable water. The high value and possibly catastrophic consequences of damage to these targets is why the Cappies are willing to shell out big bills for ‘Mech support on a border world.”

“Right,” scoffed Freddie ‘Breezy’ Johansen, a new hire to the Knightsbut longtime freelancer, “because everyone knows the Capellans care so much about civilian life.”

“Breezy, you now owe me two hundred push-ups for interrupting,” the Colonel remarked, drawing a few chuckles from the other Knights. “But you are partially correct; the Liaos do have another vested interest on Espia: deposits of a rare-earth mineral called Neodymium. It’s most commonly found in magnets, but it’s also a component in advanced electronics. Potentially worth an awful lot of C-Bills, and the Capellans want to protect their investment. And if they’re willing to pay for the job, then we’re willing to get the job done.”

Golden Boy smirked, and made another tick on his list.

A hand shot up. “What kind of potential threats are we expecting, sir?”

Colonel Wayne nodded, and drew his attention to the map on the far wall. The planet Espia was displayed as a small dot in the center of the map, barely on the right side of a jagged line. To the right of the line, the space was filled with light green, and to its left, the region was purple. Slightly beneath that was a third region, colored in teal.



“As you can see,” the Colonel stated, “Espia is located on the border of the Capellan Confederation and the Free Worlds League. Historically, the Free Worlders have been the biggest threat to the Capellan border, but with the signing of the Concord of Kapetyn, the Mariks and Liaos, as well as the Kuritas, are notionally all on the same side.”

“In theory, at least,” Captain Roth added.

“Yeah, you know how Free Worlders are,” Golden Boy said, his remark aimed at Aroxty Sameve, trying to rile up the tank commander who had originally hailed from the League. “Ask two Mariks a question, you’ll get three answers.”

“You stow that shit, Golden Boy,” Master Sergeant Dalton glared with a look that could peel the paint off of an Atlas’s faceplate. Golden Boy raised his hands in mock surrender, and the Colonel fixed him with a stare that let him know he’d be joining Breezy doing push-ups later.

“As I was saying,” Colonel Wayne continued, “the chances of Marik making a move on Liao are slim to none, not with the two Houses signing a non-aggression pact to counter the alliance between Davion and Steiner. Officially, the Third Succession War is over, so for the time being the Marik border is considered relatively safe.”

He then motioned further down on the map, to the area in teal.

“The other major player in the region is the Magistracy of Canopus. While I’m sure many of you have heard of them by reputation, there is more to the Magistracy than pleasure-circuses and hard drugs. The Canopians have a significant military force, one that can rival a House army in both size and skill. And unlike the Mariks, they did not sign the Concord, so they aren’t beholden to any non-aggression pact. However, historically the Magistracy has avoided the worst of the Succession Wars specifically by not getting involved in heavy fighting, so again, the chances of them rolling in on Espia are slim.”

“Then why bring in a company of ‘Mechs, sir?” Wrathchild asked.

“Because of the third potential threat to the planet’s stability,” Gawain answered, “which, unfortunately, are the people of Espia themselves. The citizens here have little loyalty to the Confederation, if any, and there have been quite a few demonstrations and protests against House Liao’s leadership. A growing political movement in the government, the so-called “Espian Free People’s Movement,” has been openly talking about secession. There hasn’t been any actual violence…yet…but the Capellans want to make a show of force to keep any of these protests from getting out of hand.”

“So we’re the bad guys on this job?” asked Reya Wyatt.

“We’re keeping the peace, that’s all,” the Colonel responded. “The Green Knights will be operating independently of the Espian Guard, but I have received full authorization from the local Governor to maintain law and order by any means necessary. Let me repeat that: I have full authorization. You do not. Our job is to convince any potential rioters or insurgents to disperse by looking impressive and scary, but you will not make any direct action against the local population without my explicit orders, is that clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” the Green Knights answered in unison.

“I said is that clear?

“SIR, YES SIR!”

“Good,” he stated. “We are not a House army, but we are professional soldiers. And I expect you to behave as such. Those of you who know me, know that I judge disciplinary action based on a complex and robust equation based around five variable factors. Captain Roth, what are those factors?”

Captain Sally Roth looked across the Green Knights and gave them a switchblade smirk as she listed them off. ”How many bystanders you hurt, how much you cost the company in damages, how many local laws you broke, how many MRB regulations you broke, and how much you pissed the Colonel off.”

”That is correct,” he said, his own taciturn demeanor contrasting the Captain’s almost playful tone. ”Based on the results of that equation, I will administer one of four levels of disciplinary action. Level One, I dock your pay 25 percent, and you spend a week in the brig. Level Two, I dock your pay 50 percent, you spend a month in the brig, and you get ten lashes in front of the Knights at the end, just to give you something to look forward to. Level Three, I dock your pay 75 percent, you spend the rest of the contract in the brig, and you get ten lashes at the end of every month. And Level Four, I dock your pay 100 percent, and I shoot you in the head. I’ve been in the mercenary game for twelve years, I have only had to administer a Level Four disciplinary action twice. Do not be the third.

A few people shuddered. Some nodded grimly. Golden Boy made another tick on his list.

”We are not here to be the ‘bad guys’ or the ‘good guys,’” Colonel Wayne said, approaching the wrap-up of his speech. ”We are here to be professionals. We are here because there is work that needs doing, and because there are standards to be met. The Green Knights do the job, and we do it right, is that clear?”

“SIR, YES SIR!” the Knights answered as one.

Golden Boy jotted down the biggest tick he could on his list.

”Now let’s open up the floor for some questions…”




SIX MONTHS AGO


Byeong-Ho Square
Balya Gora, capital city of Espia
September 14th, 3029


”For too long, the people of Espia have suffered under the yoke of the Capellan Confederation!” a young woman bellowed into a megaphone over the roar of the crowd. ”For generation after generation, House Liao has fed us nothing but lies and fear-mongering, all while propping up a regime that is corrupt, callous, cruel, and incompetent! How many Espians have to die in the mines every year before the Liaos are satisfied? How many of our sick, our elderly, our disabled die of thirst because Governor Xiu considers them a ‘drain’ on water rations, while the Aqua Vitae Corporation rakes in record profits?! And now after promising us ‘security’ and ‘safety’ in exchange for all this suffering, the Capellan Confederation abandons us, leaving our lives in the hands of money-grubbing mercenaries!”

Around her, the crowd bellowed with rage. In front of them, lines of Espian Guards armed with riot shields, tear gas, and batons struggled to hold back the mass of fuming humanity. Behind the first line, a second line of Guards waited with assault rifles at the ready.

From behind the lines of riot guards, Golden Boy whistled inside the cockpit of his Vindicator. ”Hooo-ee, they are all kinds of pissed off.”

”Hate to say it,” Breezy’s voice crackled over the comms from his Locust, ”but the lady has a point.”

”Ehhh, I don’t have time for all that ‘power to the people’ jazz,” Bigtime said dismissively, his Urbanmech sweeping the barrel of its autocannon back and forth over the angry crowd. ”People like this are gonna bellyache no matter who’s in charge.”

”Just keep focused,” Wrathchild chided her lancemates. ”We don’t have to be friends with these people; we just need to keep them from doing something stupid.”

”And how are we gonna do that?” Golden Boy complained, as a glass bottle shattered against the cockpit of his ‘Mech. ”Colonel says we can’t open up on these whiners without his express permission. And there ain’t exactly a non-lethal way to use these things. We might as well be out here with squirt guns.”

”WE HAVE HAD ENOUGH!” The woman with the megaphone shouted. ”If House Liao will not protect us, then the time has come to protect ourselves! From outsiders, from oppressors, and from our own corrupt and broken puppet government! The time has come to join up and shout, FREE ESPIA!”

With a surge of anger that can only come from a population that’s had all it can stand, the crowd rushed forward and began bowling over the riot guards. Pops of smoke grenades rang out, and shouts of rage and pain filled the air.

Another bottle soared through the air, arcing towards Bigtime’s Urbanmech. This bottle, however, had a flaming rag sticking out of the top, and when it shattered, it covered the short squat ‘Mech in fiery liquid.

”Aw, to hell with this,” the Mechwarrior said, taking a step forward and aiming his cannon toward the crowd, ”You saw them provoke me, right?”

The city square echoed with the sudden crash and shrieking of metal-on-metal, as the fist of Wrathchild’s Wolverine slammed into the Urbanmech’s side, sending the smaller ‘Mech stumbling back.

”You’re not wasting these people just because you’re mad that one of them ruined your paint job, Bigshot,” Wrathchild snarled.

”Hey, what the hell are you two doing?” Breezy demanded, but kept his Locust away from the two ‘Mechs. Between the size of the Wolverine and the Urbanmech’s cannon, there was little his insect-like 20-ton scout ‘Mech could do.

”Back off, Wrathchild,” Golden Boy warned, a dangerous edge to his voice as he leveled his Particle Projector Cannon at the Wolverine, ”Don’t side with a random mob over your lancemate.”

Between the Green Knights’ feet, the mob broke through the first line of riot guards.

”You heard the Colonel’s orders,” she demanded. ”No firing on–”

”The Colonel ain’t out here,” Bigshot said as he turned his own gun on her. ”These ain’t our people, Wrathchild. Hell, they don’t even like us. You really feel like getting popped today because you wanted to play hero?”

”FREE ESPIA!”

”Guys…” Breezy tried to cut in, but was ignored.

”You pull that trigger, Bigshot, and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.”

”You open up on your lancemate, Wrathchild, and I’ll cut you down here and now.”

Wrathchild turned her arm, aiming her autocannon at Golden Boy’s Vindicator while keeping her laser and short-range missiles trained on the Urbanmech.

”Guys…”

”You’re an asshole, Golden Boy,” she snarled.

”And you’re nowhere near as good as you think you are, Wrathchild.”

”GUYS!”

The square erupted with the chatter of gun fire, followed immediately with screams.

The gunfire didn’t come from the Urbanmech the Wolverine, or the Vindicator. It came from beneath them, from the Espian Guards and their TK Assault Rifles. By the end of their second volley, dozens of protestors were dead. The nameless hundreds or thousands more began stampeding in all directions, some trampling each other while trying to flee, others charging forward with righteous indignation.

”Awww, fuck,” Golden Boy groaned. ”The Colonel’s going to have our hides for this…”




ONE WEEK AGO


Streets of Balya Gora
March 15th, 3030
Day Four of Military Coup


”PEOPLE OF ESPIA,” the automated recording sounded from the megaphone of the Scorpion Light Tank as it rumbled through the city streets. ”REMAIN IN YOUR HOMES. THE ESPIAN GUARD HAS ASSUMED POLITICAL CONTROL UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. ANYONE OUTSIDE OF THEIR HOMES DURING THE TRANSITION OF POWER WILL BE CONSIDERED AN ENEMY COMBATANT. ANYONE FOUND GIVING SHELTER OR AID TO GOVERNOR XIU'S REGIME OR TO THE OFF-WORLD MERCENARIES WILL BE CONSIDERED AN ENEMY COMBATANT. FOR YOUR SAFETY AND SECURITY, REMAIN IN YOUR HOMES UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. MESSAGE REPEATS. PEOPLE OF–”

With a thunder-crack of man-made lightning and a flash of bright cerulean, the Scorpion erupted. From the cockpit of his Vindicator, Golden Boy scowled.

”Ungrateful assholes,” he spat.

”Come on,” Wrathchild chided him. ”Let’s get this sector clear, so we can link up with Alpha and Bravo Lance.”

”That Scorpion was the only thing in two kliks of us making any kind of noise,” Bigshot said, ”I think it’s safe to call this sector cl–”

His last words were cut short by the thunderous blast of a massive autocannon. Before anyone could realize what happened, the torso of the Urbanmech collapsed in on itself, and the squat ‘Mech crumpled to the pavement in a heap.

”Shit!” Golden boy swore as the remaining three ‘Mechs broke formation, scattering for what cover they could find. ENEMY ‘MECH DETECTED, his Vindicator’s computer warned him too late.

”Getting sensor lock,” Breezy said, the antennae of his Locust twitching. ”Seismic sensors are reading it as a fifty-tonner….hell, it’s a Hunchback! Enemy Hunchback!

Sure enough, striding from the smoke and dust down the ruined city street was a short but powerfully built medium ‘Mech, humanoid in shape, its arms bowed out like a bodybuilder, and an absolutely enormous autocannon on its right shoulder.

”What the hell?” Golden Boy asked, more to himself than to his lancemates. ”I thought we were the only ‘Mech force on the planet!”

”Well, you thought wrong,” Wrathchild said, triggering her jump jets as her Wolverine rose into the air. It slammed down on the roof of a nearby building, kicking up a huge cloud of dust as the building’s structure somehow managed to hold the ‘Mech’s mass. ”Doesn’t change the plan. We clear the sector of hostiles, ‘Mechs or not.”

”Easy for you to say!” Breezy called out, his Locust bobbing and weaving to make himself as difficult a target as possible for the Hunchback. ”That thing hits me, I’m a ghost!!”

”Then don’t let it hit you!” Wrathchild shouted before firing off a burst of cannon fire and a volley of short-range missiles at the enemy ‘Mech. High-velocity shells and warheads gouged pockmarks out of the Hunchback’s armor, but did very little else.

”I’ve got him,” Golden Boy said, triggering his own jump jets as he and Wrathchild tried to surround the ‘Mech. Triggering the Vindicator’s PPC in mid-jump, the sudden spike of heat in his cockpit made him hiss through his teeth, but the bright blue beam struck the Hunchback in the chest, forcing it to stagger backwards into an apartment block. With a thunderous crash, the building collapsed, burying the Hunchback under rubble and dust.

”Good shot, Golden Boy,” Wrathchild admitted with grudging respect, ”But stay sharp, chances are he’s still–”

”Multiple contacts incoming!” Breezy called out. ”Reading three, no, for–wait…sensors have gone dead. What the hell? I’m being jammed!”

Golden Boy frowned, and checked his own sensors. Sure enough, his screen was blank, which could only mean either the coast was clear–which it plainly wasn’t– or they were being hit with some major electronic interference.

”Heads on a swivel, Knights,” Wrathchild said, sweeping her gun back and forth from her elevated position. ”Call targets when you see them. We need to–”

Two fiery streaks rushed through the air, one from in front of Wrathchild, the other behind, sticking into the leg and back of her Wolverine. There was no explosion, no alarms. Dud rounds, maybe?

”What the hell?”

Golden Boy caught movement in his peripheral vision, and turned to see a small, bird-like ‘Mech disappearing behind a corner.

”Got an enemy Raven, two o’clock,” he called to his lancemates. ”That’s gotta be what’s screwing with our sensors.”

”Another one, seven o’clock,” Breezy called out, wheeling his Locust around to pursue.

Ravens? Then that means…shit, I’m Narced!”

The Raven, a top-of-the-line scout ‘Mech from House Liao, was equipped with an incredibly advanced electronic warfare package. In addition to its ECM capabilities, it boasted a particularly nasty piece of support equipment: a Narc missile beacon. And Wrathchild had just been tagged with two of them.

”Wrathchild, bug out!” Breezy shouted. ”They’ve got you scouted for–”

At that point, though, it was too late. From beyond the city skyline, Golden Boy watched a flight of long-range missiles reaching up into the sky. Then another. Then two more. Then four more. Their contrails criss-crossed through the sky towards them. As Golden Boy watched them, he found them almost beautiful.

Then all at once, they came down on Wrathchild’s Wolverine enveloping the 50-ton ‘Mech in a maelstrom of explosions.

”Wrathchild!” he called to his lancemate. ”Talk to me.”

No response.

Moments later, the charred husk of an eviscerated ‘Mech tilted forward through the smoke, toppling off of the rooftop and crumbling on the ground.

”Hell with this!” Breezy said, ”I’m bugging out. We’re not getting paid to–”

Another thundercrack and flash of lightning, and the Locust hit the pavement hard, its left leg snapped completely off at the knee. The ‘Mech’s momentum kept the torso moving forward, tumbling over itself again and again in a series of vicious snap-rolls before it came to a stop in a smoking heap.

”Breezy, punch out! Breezy!”

The Locust’s pilot never had the chance to respond, as a massive foot came crashing down on the small ‘Mech’s cockpit. Golden Boy’s blood ran cold as he saw the ‘Mech that had killed Breezy. Standing over the wreckage was the imposing frame of a Battlemaster.

Weighing in at 85 tons, the Battlemaster was nearly twice the size of Golden Boy’s Vindicator. Mostly humanoid with a large, almost airplane-like cockpit assembly for a head, its right arm carried the same type of PPC as his own ‘Mech, but whereas the Vindicator only had a 5-shot rack of LRMs and a medium laser to back it up, the Battlemaster carried a devastating array of short-range weapons. Colonel Wayne used to pilot one just like it before he lost his arm, and Golden Boy was always glad to see it on his side.

This, however, was not Colonel Wayne’s ride. The Battlemaster that bore down on him was painted a deep red, slashed with white trim. On its breast was an emblem of a skeletal fist.

”Know this, mercenary scum,” the enemy Mechwarrior addressed him on an open channel. ”Today the people of Espia have new leaders. And today, you die to the Crimson Fists.”

The Battlemaster strode forward, a half-dozen beams of blinding light erupting from its torso. Six medium lasers raked across the Vindicator, reducing armor in its torso to molten slag, before a flight of SRMs blasted more of it away. Readouts told him that in that salvo alone, most of the armor on his left side had been taken.

”Oh shit, oh shit,” Golden Boy panted, fighting hard to keep the ‘Mech upright. He then suddenly felt himself thrown against the restraints of his command couch. His ears rang and his eyes blurred, and the cockpit of his Vindicator flashed red with a hundred warning lights. CRITICAL DAMAGE. RIGHT ARM DESTROYED.

Behind him, the Hunchback had risen from the rubble of the collapsed apartment building, and was advancing from behind. On either side, Golden Boy saw the two Ravens stalking between buildings, ready to add their own lasers and missiles to the fight.

”P-please, wait,” he began to sputter as his enemies encircled him. ”I-I-I can help! I’m the b-best shot in my lance! I d-don’t even like these guys! Don’t–”

The Battlemaster leveled its PPC at the Vindicator’s head.

For a split second, Bobby “Golden Boy” Taggart’s world was filled with blinding light, deafening thunder, and searing pain.

Then Bobby “Golden Boy” Taggard never saw, heard, nor felt anything ever again.




NOW


Abandoned Neodymium Mine
Eunsan Mountain Range
250 Kilometers Southwest of Balya Gora
March 22nd, 3030


Colonel Gaius Wayne woke up miserable, after a night of fitful sleep. He kept running the situation through his head again and again. How the hell did it happen so quickly?

Bigshot, KIA.

Breezy, KIA.

Golden Boy, KIA.

Wrathchild, MIA….presumed KIA.

More Mechwarriors wounded in the coup, out of action for the foreseeable future.

Three of his four tank crews, both of his VTOLs pilots, and half of his infantry lost.

And worst of all, most of the civilian contingent was now in enemy hands.

Including the families, the children, of the surviving Green Knights.

Including Sally Roth.

He looked down at his left hand, the prosthetic bundle of plastic, metal, and myomer fibers that the doctors had fitten him with three years ago, and a wave of disgust washed over him. If he still had his hand, the prosthetic wouldn’t interfere with his neurohelmet. He could have still piloted his ‘Mech. He could have taken that enemy Battlemaster ‘Mech for ‘Mech.

I could’ve saved them, he thought bitterly.

Around him, the makeshift headquarters they had thrown together buzzed with activity. The cavern was large enough to fit the surviving Knights and their equipment, deep enough in the mountain that they wouldn’t be detected from above by spotter planes or drones, and the old mining scaffolds functioned decently as jury-rigged ‘Mech bays.

It was enough to keep them going, for a time. But only for a time.

Gaius saw some of the kids, the few they had managed to get out before the Espian Guards and their new allies, the so-called ‘Crimson Fists,’ overran the Clover and the Dittohead. Some of them were playing, trying to keep their spirits up. Others clearly had tear stains around their eyes. All were getting worryingly thin.

They’re going to starve, he thought to himself. Because you couldn’t be there to save them. Now all you can do is sit and hide and watch your them waste away. They took their parents from them. They took their friends. They took her.

Gaius’s self-pity froze into steely determination at that thought.

And you’re going to get them all back.

Shaking his head and clearing the intrusive thoughts from his head, he cupped his hands to his mouth and called out to everyone in the camp.

”Attention, Green Knights!” he shouted. ”Mission briefing in one hour! I repeat, mission briefing in six-zero minutes! We’ve been knocked on our asses, people. Now we go over how we get back on our feet…and how we get our payback.”

Do the job, he thought to himself. And do it right.
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Andrew Rivers

SIX DAYS AGO

The plan was simple: Once the Espian Guard declared their intentions, Andrew was going to get a bulletproof vest, comms unit, and a gun plus ammo from the armory, make his way to his motorcycle, and as the enemy focused on the Battlemechs, ride via devious routes and shortcuts to the nearest city, where for a few brief hours, anyone who was out in the streets was a friend by default due to being an enemy of the new regime. Then he was to go around, avoiding patrols and looking for would-be rebels until invited by the latter to join them.

Each stage of the plan just barely succeeded, luck and sheer audacity saving his life until he was gestured to get down from his motorcycle and get into an alleyway by some 'armed workers' in the Industrial District of the city he was in.

Then he was grabbed, blindfolded, and tied to a chair by the 'Partisans' after accepting their invitation to into their safehouse, his weapons and gear stowed away on a nearby desk. Guess the recent planetary garrison was hated that much, after all.

"Why did you come here, merc kid?" a woman's voice, wizened with age, echoed at him. "Haven't your people done enough? Why put us in more danger?"

Andrew answered, "What's important was what my people didn't do, miss. We didn't shoot at your protestors. We didn't burn any houses or damage any property. And above all, we're not on the side of the new regime, considering the fact that they're scapegoating us. And while it paints a target on your back to give me shelter, you're already fighting... Them anyway. Now, I'll be blunt; you'll need Mechs if you're to get your planet back from the 'New People's Democratic Republic' - Our group will have them if they survive but they're going to need everything else."

The old woman was curt, "So you're saying we need each other. How's a child like you going to make a deal?"

Andrew tilted his head slightly, only to find himself pulling on the ropes. Nevertheless, he said, "My father's a Mechwarrior and I have his number on my communicator. If you have an encryption specialist, bring them in - I can open a channel within the day."

He then said confidently, "If this fails, you can take me out back and shoot me behind the head."

Raven Rivers

FIVE DAYS AGO

Katrina, his wife, had been captured. Andrew was probably in the enemy hands as well. Raven cursed himself for not being able to get them out sooner, and had been addled by fear and uncertainty ever since. He could imagine the civilian contingent of the Green Knights being executed, including the children; maybe they'd even execute the kids first to 'send a message'. Andrew would probably spit at them till the end, and they'd shoot him first, or maybe they'd gas him and the smaller children as it'd be 'less painful' -

No, he couldn't allow it to happen, even if it meant betraying the team, even if it meant betraying his friend, the Colonel himself. He knew it was selfish; he knew that other people had their civilians captured as well, that to rescue Katrina and Andrew, he'd be throwing them to the dogs. But he could not allow his wife to die, and his son, his stupid, arrogant son, to end up as corpses. So Raven Rivers got up from where he had been sitting down on his bed and went to pick up his communications unit; if he could sneak into the comms suite, he could prepare to hand the others over to the enemy; sell their lives for his family's.

Thankfully for the Green Knights, the comms suite was guarded, and he had to return to his room to drown in dark thoughts...

Andrew Rivers

FIVE DAYS AGO

The adrenaline had lifted, and Andrew had been given new clothes before being locked up inside a room, his pitch apparently a failure. His gun, his bulletproof vest, his kevlar jacket, and his communicator had been taken away, leaving him alone with himself, a small bed, and time to process what had exactly happened.

He had not moved quickly enough to get to the armory, then the motorcycle, before the fighting started, not just outside the dropships but within them. The Espian Guard, the enemy, was deliberately targeting the Green Knights' civilian contingent and shooting to kill at those who ran, those who would not let themselves be captured, and those who did not surrender promptly enough.

Estrella and Cody were two of his childhood friends who had a similar idea to him but less luck; they had been shot in the head and left to rot on the way to the motorcycle bay. Luna and Adrien were luckier; he only had to see them led away in chains as he crouched behind the motorbikes to free its own from their restraints. And lastly, there was one of the technicians, a young woman only slightly older than him who sacrificed her secrecy to open the bay's doors so that he can escape - What had happened to her?

But the atrocities and the callous disregard for others' suffering didn't stop with his family. As he drove through the streets of the city, he could glimpse men and women being shot at just because they were out in the alleyways at night (children were merely bundled off to prison transports for now). As he continued on while witnessing the purge of the 'Espian Guards' opposition, it all became a blur of fear, threat, and the underlying shadow of brutality.

And now he was a prisoner of the very people the Green Knights needed to ally with; he knew enough to guess that the Colonel won't let all of them die so easily.

Mom, Dad, I need you, were his thoughts as he curled up on the bed, weeping into his pillow. Ziska, Reya, Tarak, Everyone Else, hang in there; I'll try and find a way to help you guys.

He had to do a thing most unnatural for teenagers - Be patient. He had to gain the rebels' trust, he had to get them in contact with the Green Knights, he had to... He had to... He had to grow up.

Wunderkind, my foot, he said to himself. I can't even keep my friends safe or make their death mean anything.

Then another thought, Why can't I hate the people who did this to them? To me? Well, I do hate them, but I just want to stop them, not kill them. Revenge won't bring my friends back... And I just want them back.

You never spent that much time with them, anyway, was one last thought. You wanted to be Ziska's 'student' and the best and the center of attention. So why want them back now, when you threw them away?

The boy sobbed harder in response to that, his bravado forgotten for the time being.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Starlance
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Starlance

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The mood in the cave was dour, and even Marit was feeling a little down that day. First it was the unrest. Not bad, but hard to police with a BattleMech. While they still had access to the local HPG station, she’d at least been able to keep up with the Sons of Kalev on a regular basis. Knowing all was well back home had at least been a comfort, but now she could only take solace on that front from having remembered to point out that the riots might prevent outgoing communication - either through actions of the rioters, lack of time or deliberate attempts by the government to keep the trouble in house - so no one back home had any reason to take her silence for her death.

Then the local force pulled their power play stunt and casualties went through the roof hatch out of nowhere. Freddie and Lena were especially hard to swallow. A small cynical voice in her head might’ve said the lack of a Golden Boy around was a plus, but being an asshole wasn’t a valid reason to die and a skilled MechWarrior was always good to have, especially in their predicament. But as they say: The show must go on. She could only chalk her own survival and successful escape to luck in the form of being in the right place at the wrong time. When the order came to get out of the city, the lance she’d been assigned to was on the outskirts. They could’ve simply turned around and walked into the woods were it not for a platoon of mechanized infantry and some attached tanks.

The supply situation was another thing eroding the morale like rain on a badly planted field. Food and water were bad enough, but a lack of medical supplies and ammo would be putting a damper on the mood even if they weren’t needed, and though she personally didn’t mind cold all that much yet, a lifetime spent mostly aboard a Buccaneer did her no favors in this situation.

The last straw was the now empty flask of walnut rum in her pocket, having shared the last of its contents with Minhas and Ziska the previous day, the latter for letting her borrow the former for an hour to get Archie’s right elbow actuator working properly after an unfortunate brush against a particularly stubborn building during the desperate flight from Balya Gora.

Marit was jolted out of her musings by the Colonel’s voice calling them to arms. Normally a briefing was a trailer for an event that had the potential to be the end of you, and itself could be anything ranging from a routine to an annoyance and, as she had learned the hard way on multiple occasions, a chance to do some pushups, but now she was just glad something would be happening. The rookie MechWarrior excused herself from the group of technicians and civilians who were moving some boxes and tarps around in an attempt to improve privacy in the bunks and set out toward the ‘Mechbay that held her assigned Archer, the 70 ton machine slumped over as if asleep, looking almost peaceful were it not for the dents and scorch marks in several places. Marit figured she had ten minutes to make sure everything that was supposed to be there was there and how much - well, how little - ammunition she’d have to work with in the anticipated upcoming outing, ten minutes to get her personal gear ready, thirty minutes to wait out of sight if Reya happened to be near Archie and in a sour mood and was still left with ten to get to the briefing. She ignored the grumbling of her stomach, mustering up an encouraging smile for a few kids as she passed them along the way.

Marit wondered what they would be doing. Gathering intelligence? Getting supplies? Whatever the away team brought back, one thing was almost certain: If successful, they’d bring some hope. They’d complained about their shitty lot in life for long enough, and now the Colonel has decided that the time has come to do something about it

Deeds, not words.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Bork Lazer
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Bork Lazer Chomping Time

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Once you enter a tank, there is no bailing.

You accept the reality that you are encased in a plasteel sarcophagus that could explode at any moment . Every second spent on the battlefield could be your last. You accept the fact that statistically, you have a 67.5% chance of dying on the battlefield when you enter the cupola. You accept the fate that your life is now tied to your crew in a symbiotic relationship. There is no you. There is only the crew.

That is the creed of a tanker.






“ Hey, watch it! Watch it! You’re going to ruin the rifling if you push that down my baby like that!”

“ Fuck off, Helma. Remember who was the one who shot down that Locust while you were trying to unjam your gun?”

Aroxty groaned at the morning call of arguments that incidentally acted as an alarm. As much as he wanted to discourage it, silence was never a strong factor of discipline in his crew. The sudden bout of commotion made him stand up too fast, causing his head to collide with a coolant pipe. His forehead aching, Aroxty grumbled as he scratched his itchy butt in the cramped confines of the Von Luckner before slowly taking out a canister of Brace and taking a whiff. The stimulant ignited the nerves in his brain as he slowly recollected where he was.

They were on Espia.

Correction.

They were on Espia and were the only tanker crew left remaining in the Green Knights.

God, what a shitshow.

Aroxy opened his lapel pocket and took out a scruffy old photo . It had been taken during a campaign Noxus where the Green Knights assisted the local planetary governor in defending their transport from pirates that sought to steal their agricultural produce. The other tankers had insisted on taking a group photo after they had downed a squad of Atlas’s in an ambush. All of them together were standing on top of a cockpit of a downed Atlas.

Montgomery was the seven foot blonde to his right with a big grin. Aroxy only remembered his screams of pain on the radio when the Fists had napalmed his prized Bulldog with him on the inside.

Ludmila’s scowl under her thick bush of ginger hair made his heart twinge with pain. The last he saw of her was seeing her Manticore being swallowed in a shower of artillery fire.

Lastly was Gregor. The poor four-eyed bastard made the mistake of opening his hatch only for an enemy Mech to turn his upper torso into mincemeat.

Aroxy sighed, burying the grief in favor of stoicism, as he refolded the photo and put it back into his pocket with a longing gaze.

“ You motherfucker. That was my favorite wrench!”

“ Hey, stop that! Let go, you bitch!”

Of course, his crew had to ruin the ambiance. Aroxy stood up, brushed a wisp of hair off his brow before climbing out of the porthole and inspecting just what the hell was causing all the ruckus.

Merry-Go-Round, their crew’s Von Luckner, was parked on the periphery of the camp, near the edge of the cave where most of the Green Knights were hiding or what was left of them. Helma Etom, the crew’s engineer, and the Morven, the crew’s gunner, were engaged in a scuffle whilst Takka, the assistant loader, was leaning on the Merry-Go-Round’s side with an amused smile. Helma had her teeth buried in Morven’s hair, rabidly trying to rip it out whilst Morven was busy trying to aim his fist towards the engineer’s throat. Both parties paused as soon as they saw Aroxy exiting the tank and immediately tried to begin disentangling each of their limbs from one another like earthworms.

“ Ladies,” He nodded towards Helma who was currently spitting out strands of Morven’s hair. “ Gentlemen.” Morven had an expression of embarrassment on his face as he stepped away from Helma.

“ I see you’ve been busy while I was trying to take a nice nap.” Aroxy slammed his fist on the driveguard affectionately as if the old war machine was a dog. “Give me a sitrep.”

Takka stepped forward, his hands squeezed together, as he regarded his commander coolly.

“ Well, sir, do you want the bad news or the good news?”

“ Let’s start with the bad.”

“ Well…” Takka looked down at his clipboard. “ ….our last engagement with the Fists shook us up pretty bad, sir. We’re missing half of our frontal plating and a quarter on our sides. We’ve had to make due with replacement armor.”

Aroxy raised an eyebrow.

“ Define replacement.”

This time, Helma piped up, raising her hand with a sheepish look.

“ Well, sir, we had to requisition the mobile cafeteria and break it down.”

Aroxy blinked several times in disbelief before looking at the Merry-Go-Round closely. The plasteel and ferrocrete armor had sheets of steel bolted on it from which Aroxy could still read a few words that had been painted on which were “ FREE FOOD” and “ RATIONS.”

“ So, what you’re saying is that you broke down the company’s only active Growler into ablative armor?”

There was an audible five second silence before Takka spoke up nonchalantly.

“ Yes.”

“ Well, second-lieutenant - “ Aroxy gave a laser-pointed stare towards Helma who shrank under his gaze.
I don’t know whether to praise you for your ingenuity or your idiocy. What’s the rest of the bad news?”

Takka continued reading out the list boredly which was in direct odds to the severity of the damage report. Aroxy internally cringed as he wondered how the hell the Colonel was expecting them to take on a single mech, much less an infantry squad, with the condition the Merry-Go-Round was in.

“ …And that’s not even counting the hit to the engine. I’ll be surprised if she makes it for the next 50 klicks or so without blowing a gasket.”

“ I’m surprised there’s still some good news left after all you said to me.”

“ Well, we’ve got some good news, sir.” Takka raised two fingers up. “ Our armaments are still active and our SRM pods are miraculously intact.”

“ Which I would be grateful for if only we didn’t have enough ammunition to barely smoke out an infantry platoon.” Aroxy nodded for Takka to continue. “ And what’s the next piece of good news?”

“ The tea machine isn’t broken.”

“ Well, that’s reassuring.”

Their discussion was then stopped short by the familiar sound of the Colonel’s shout echoing off the cave walls. The camp around them began to assemble towards the briefing area. Aroxy rolled his shoulders as he beckoned his crew to line up and follow him.

“ C’mon, lads. Let’s hear about what suicide mission the Colonel has for us this time.”
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by wikkit
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wikkit hi

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Ingrid hoped that she could be off this ignoble world before she became accustomed to the sensation of cold.

Between everything else that had been lost in the exodus from Balya Gora, her position among the people, her retainer, the few loyal followers she had left, her possessions beyond her sword, and a not insignificant amount of her pride, at that moment in time she couldn't stand the loss of a controlled climate more than anything else.

She rarely let physical weakness show itself. The knit brow was often accompanying her uniform regardless if she was uncomfortable; she often had this sort of scowl. The shakes, the intermittent and subtle shivering that came from someone truly unaccustomed to the cold was new, and this time she didn't bother hiding it with a steel-straight back and a clenched jaw. Right now, she was alone, just another person hiding out in a cave like a terrorist. Her back was draped with multiple woolen blankets, already looking disheveled from the rapid flight from their base, and she hardly had the noble bearing she always tried to present.

In a lamp-lit corner of the cave - an honest to god kerosene lamp in this day and age, to her chagrin - she was hunched over a book, one of the few things she was able to take with her by the serendipity of holding it as everything went to hell. Shandra Noruff's The Principles of the Iron Men in Warfare was its name, a thick paperback copy of a treatise written by a Star League commander who had been alive some 400 years ago, during the dawn of the Battlemech.

Written after she had retired due to a heart condition, it carried a sense of desperation that only now was becoming apparent to the self-appointed Duchess. Between the pages that shook as she shivered, she read it like it was the work of a woman who could tell the end was coming.

That the best days are behind her, and all she could do was try to be remembered.

That she was going to--

"God, not now..."

She loudly clapped the book shut. No need for those thoughts.

"Books are never half as good as a strong drink in times like these," Ziska said, appearing out of the darkness. Smiling, she placed a cup sloshing with a clear liquid in front of Ingrid. Whatever it was that was barely contained within the cup smelled like a mixture of BattleMech lubricant and paint thinner. Hiding in a cave, surrounded by hostiles, and branded an enemy of the new state along with the rest of the Green Knights, Ziska seemed to be in her element. Where other mercenaries looked weary and dispirited, Ziska instead seemed almost to be relishing in the palpable sense of doom that hung over them.

Sitting down next to the other MechWarrior, Ziska spun a second, larger cup out from beneath her jacket by the handle. Smiling still, Ziska poured more of the foul smelling liquid into the battered cup from the rusted coffee pot she was rarely seen without. Having claimed the coffee pot from a still burning Epsian Guard Hetzer during their flight into the mountains, rumors among the Astechs had it that Ziska had repurposed the humble pot into a portable canteen for her more experimental field brews.

"Cold? Well, don’t worry, a cup or two will help with the shivers. Doesn't do much to make you warmer, but it sure feels that way going down."

Ingrid took a look at what sat on the ground before her, and raised an eyebrow. It took another second for her to smell it. Immediately, her nose crumpled and turned up and away from the offensive odor.

Despite her clear distaste, her response was measured: “I thank you for your generosity.” Whether she’d actually drink it or not was left out intentionally.

With someone’s attention drawn her way, she conquered the shivers and put on a composed face. Not some kind of instant, knee-jerk slam-shut whole body reaction, no. She slowly, naturally, straightened her back and put her jittering to a halt. Her sword, hidden under the blankets, rattled as she adjusted her position.

“I cannot say I’m familiar with this sort of drink…”

“They call it BattleMech Oil in the Periphery,” Ziska said with a knowing nod. She took a slow, careful sip from her own cup, and then proceeded to rattle off the ingredients, “Dissolved hard licorice candy, grain alcohol paired with equal parts water, and depending on who you ask, a touch of actuator lubricant for that extra kick. Wonderful stuff, really! My instructors always swore by it.”

It was subtle, hard to notice given their surroundings, but Ingrid’s face seemed to grow a little more pale with every ingredient listed.

“Anyways, how are you holding up, Duchess?” the Periphery mercenary asked with a generous wave of her free hand, “Missing the high life yet?”

She huffed a little. “I know we aren’t cut from the same cloth, but I would not call my life ‘high’. It is a story of constant striving to improve and high expectations, not a cushioned existence - one of glamour and delegation and…whatever it is you are imagining.” She held her hand low by her side, pushing away the image of a high-bred socialite from her own mind.

Her hand slowed, and her head tilted upward. The dark expanse of the cavern’s ceiling greeted her. “Though, I’m certain it’s all but universal among ourselves that these times are difficult.” She drew her legs in a little closer. “A week, and it feels like I’ve been on the run for far longer than that. Being chased isn’t new to me…but I will seek to conquer my discomfort, to harness this sense of defeat and use it to better myself.”

The Duchess had often launched into these sorts of long diatribes that sounded like they had been pulled straight from some tri-vid about men fighting with swords and shields. Thankfully, this one ended early.

“Have you much experience there, my fellow Mechwarrior?” She turned to face Ziska in her seated position, continuing to ignore the drink. “‘Being ‘On the Lam’, as they say. Even the brightest can have their enemies.”

Ziska paused, laughing slightly, but somehow kindly, and then shifted closer to the other MechWarrior until she sat alarmingly close, practically shoulder to shoulder with Ingrid. The noble didn’t budge, but she didn’t seem to be happy about the company. With a sly grin, Ziska spoke in a low voice, as if sharing some hidden secret, "I've got no enemies, Duchess. Least none that are still alive. But what good mercenary hasn't spent some time in the mud? I'm no ComStar Acolyte, that's for sure, however, I know the lines the Colonel doesn't want us to cross, and I follow the rules. Limiting as they may occasionally be...Still, rules are rules, and we can't besmirch the good name of our most honorable mercenary company, now can we?"

She smiled slightly, a rare sight. “You’ve got an eye for what matters, I see.” It was the most base of conversational tactics, to throw something back at them that they’ve already said in the past. Did Ingrid detect this clear brownnosing? No, she was just happy someone agreed with her. For once.

“I did almost consider joining ComStar once," Ziska said, slowly blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face with a loud puff as she carefully watched Ingrid's face for any reaction. A raised eyebrow, but no real surprise. “Can you believe it? Imagine me praying to blessed Blake seven times a day and working for the salvation of the Inner Sphere.”

Ziska burst into a small fit of laughter, before managing to regain her composure, “Ridiculous, truly a ridiculous image. All the same, they've got some pretty Acolytes and who doesn't like dressing in nice robes? Listening to Blake's many, many teachings was a bit much though and I found I have a deep aversion to sitting still for too long. So here I am, fighting wars in fabulous and exotic places for C-Bills.”

“Either way, don’t listen to the grumbling. The Espian Guard and the Crimson Fists did us a favor, even if they don’t know it,” Ziska added without a trace of apparent irony in her voice. She gestured at the surrounding darkness in the cave, towards the other Green Knights just beyond their view, “We are fortunate to have this moment. We are lucky to be in this place. Everything is easy now. Simple. We’ve just got to survive.”

“Wise words. We’re blessed to be alive when enough of our comrades were not so fortunate.” She looks up to the Ostroc in the distance, illuminated by the flares of sparking repair tools. The only real bad luck she received last engagement was a long gash down the panel of one of her ride’s arms - just a skidding blow from an autocannon, nothing worse than that.

“And we are, after all, fortunate compared to so many others to be the kings of the battlefield. Always strive to remember that, because otherwise you’ll grow far too used to it.”

She looked at her with a thin smile. It was nothing more than reassurances feeding into her pride, but Ziska had done well to raise this noblewoman’s spirits. That’s good. With the Green Knights’ luck, they’ll need all the morale they can get.

She tried to stand, briefly revealing the uniform underneath the sheets (looking worn by now, but still far nicer than most of the unit’s “uniforms”). With a sudden bite of cold to her chest, she realized it’d be best to wait - she had a while until the briefing.

“Thank you for the counsel. You may not be high-born, I look forward to working with you in the field.” She pulled her sheets back around her sides. “Go and spend your time better than sitting with someone in a dark corner…would-be acolyte.”

Downing her cup in a fell swoop, Ziska rose to her feet, patting the other MechWarrior gently on the shoulder as she stood to her full height. Assuming a serious pose, she waved a hand as if performing some archaic rite, “May the peace of Blake be upon you, MechWarrior Daschke.”

And then still laughing Ziska faded back into the darkness.

…Even if she was easily flattered, Ingrid could see some insincerity. Not all of it, no, but just enough hints to tell that she wasn’t taken very seriously…even if some of it did feel genuine. But how much? She couldn’t tell.

She grumbled as she pulled up her old book once more, ready to go back into it despite what she thought earlier. She pulled back to the chapter she was on…before curiosity got the better of her.

If Ziska could down it all in one go, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

She held the tin cup up to her lips, pausing for a moment, before committing.

It almost goes without saying that she was then very thoroughly convinced that it could be that bad.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Th3King0fChaos
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Th3King0fChaos The Weird

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Thump.Thump.Thump.


The sound of a heartbeat begins to resound throughout the ears, the only thing that can be heard other than the ever-growing sound of a heartbeat is heavy erratic breathing.

In the dead of night, the sound of feet slamming to the ground, dead vegetation snapping underneath the force of a set of feet sprinting, rocks clattering together and getting thrown up as leaps and jumps are performed, and grunts letting loose anytime a collision with a large object is either done or nearly avoided inbetween quick and sharp breaths. Lights are constantly flashing through a large tree line as whimpering can be heard. Looking down in hands garbed in thick gloves there is a small girl crying, as light flashes over she looks up in fear, her eyes seem to flash over to the side as trees begin to collapse and get sent flying. A quick duck under one that comes flying seem to almost reveal a large and fast mech almost flying over, as in slow motion it looks down and the once white light it has seems to lock on and turn red.

Thump Thump Thump


The roar of machines comes from behind as bullet fire is let loose from all directions. Lights are constantly passing through the trees as they shift between white and red. Trees begin to get crushed, wood splintering, rockets whiz by, and the whimpering grew to outright crying. Vision begins to dart wildly as other great machines seem to constantly burst through the trees and seem to overshoot their intended target. Through the ever-growing heartbeat and sporadic breathing, the crying is starting to become the only thing that can be heard.

ThumpThumpThumpThumpThump


Smoke fills the area as the glow of red and orange light seems to fill the area or follows. The crying becomes something like wailing, yet even that seemed to be fading out as the heartbeat seems to even be ramping up further. Everything seems to blur as the smoke seems to be choking out the erratic breathing, leaving coughs and wheezes as the trees fly by, and light seems to break through the trees.

DumDumDumDumDumDumDum


The world seems to slow to a standstill. The blinding light finally fades away as there stands hundreds of men, in front of them all stands a line of younger teens and adults. From left to right guns slowly lower to the back of each of their heads, each of them try to break from the grips of the men, yet are unable to, they yell and scream, yet nothing can be heard as the heartbeat becomes so loud that even breathing can't be heard. The moment the guns level, a loud bang can be heard.








Location:
Abandoned Neodymium Mine
Eunsan Mountain Range
250 Kilometers Southwest of Balya Gora
Date/Time:
March 22nd, 3030/ 0400-0730
Interactions: Reya Wyatt @Pilatus
Gear:
His clothing: Boots, long-sleeved shirt, pants, gloves, holstered handgun with 20 rounds






Tarak awoke in a cold sweat, lurching up at such a speed that it could have been missed in the dark. Tarak is taking in gasping breaths as he begins to look around, everyone around him seems to be asleep. Some more restful than others, yet asleep nonetheless. Tarak swooped his legs off of the boxes that were commandeered for him to make a place to lay on. He grabbed his watering can as he looked to the clock that is set up, 4 hours. Tarak sighed as he looked at the clock that said 4 O'clock, he thought about how it was some of the better sleep he's gotten over this time, at least he didn't wake anyone up this time. Tarak began getting up and grabbing his clothing, as he dressed himself, he quietly walked through the cave, he was going to be heading to his favorite spot he found.

As Tarak free climbed the wall, he began to feel his grip weaken, he realized all of this is finally taking its toll, yet he was not going to let the others see it. As he continued to climb he finally reached a lip as he clambered up and over as it revealed a small alcove large enough for one to two people can fit comfortably. As Tarak finally made it up, he sighed as he looked to the area as he began to lay down. He put his hands behind his head as he took in a breath as he began doing sit ups, he was going to work this out of him, he couldn't do anything else. Leaving would be suicide, Black Phoenix isn't as limited on ammunition as some of the other Mechs here, however that does not mean he can go about galivanting. He needs to think every damaged piece of armor he deals to the enemy can be easily repaired, for him it is permanent until they can find better facilities.

Yet he can't stop thinking about those taken by those a part of the group of the military coup. The NPDRE took many of those who were found with the Green Knights' non-combatant groups. Taking many different people, and split up those he is closest to. The Orphans had seen rough times, they have lost people, yet as long as they were together they could make it through. Yet now, they have split apart, many either lost, taken, or worst, and all they could do is sit here. Tarak gritted his teeth as he began to do sit-ups faster, he then switched to push-ups as he started doing them in very rapid succession. He was getting sick of waiting, he wanted to do something, they have lost so much, and as they wait they lose more. They lost multiple Mech pilots from the Coup, they lost multiple Lances from these Crimson Fists, and Tarak has not even been able to do anything.

Once they lost that last Lance, morale dropped to an all-time low, with Bobby saying what he said on an open channel it made most begin to lose hope. It told them how dire the situation was, and now with them wallowing here, most are about at their end. Tarak threw himself up to his feet as he did a hop into the air before landing back down into a push-up and continuing to do this up and down. Tarak and his Lance had ran recon, they seemed to have been one of the lucky few in this as when they were hit, they were hit by ground armor rather than BattleMechs, yet luck would be far from it, multiple of the Mechs were hit, with Black Phoenix losing a few hundred pounds of armor in that short fight, and without any supplies or materials, they can't repair a single thing. Tarak clenched his fists as he stood up, as he began to Shadow Box, they had to do something, nothing comes to those who sit and wait.


3 HOURS LATER



Tarak had finally descended from his little perch and began going about his morning routine. He began going to where the Orphans have cut a little area for themselves, it is a small fort made of some empty boxes, torn tarps, some rope, and some equipment. There Tarak had seen many of the people he literally grew up with withering away, yet when they see Tarak they seem to try and straighten themselves up as much as they can. Trying to make themselves look like they aren't losing hope, putting on smiles, and even trying to do work that they made up. Tarak knew what they were doing, it was something they all figured out in the Scrap Yard. Tarak wore a smile as he walked around and checked on them. When the meager food and light water rations were given out, Tarak made sure that everyone had their fill. They could not bulk up their food, their food was already bulked up as much as they could without having it become more sawdust than food. Water has also begun to run low, as Espia had no natural freshwater holes. They had to desalinize the water and it is difficult to do without being forced into a cave and without any of their ships or larger machinery.

Once finished, Tarak got up, and gave each of his siblings hugs as he then began his work as a Mechwarrior. He began checks on Black Phoenix, first starting her up to make sure she still has life in her, some small checks over the limbs making sure that any severed myomer fibers, worn solenoids, and any nonfunctioning actuators are taken care of. Well, patched, oiled, or covered to make sure that it doesn't become a greater liability later. He let out a sigh as he found a few of his systems weren't running at full efficiency, half efficiency would have been passable yet he sadly was below even that, yet he was happy that the Jump Jets, the hand actuators, and the knee actuators seemed to be working. That at least meant if things got hairy, he had some way to fight some bigger mechs, or survive for another day. Yet next was his main armaments, and he would need some assistance with that.

Tarak headed out to find their resident laser weapon expert, Reya. Tarak spent about 5 minutes until he heard the tell-tale signs Ryea had passed through, some people seemed to have been hiding some of their weapons, and none of the Mechwarriors seem to be around. Tarak talked to a few people around as he finally made it to the area Reya seemed to be, she seemed to be checking over some weapons. Tarak called out to her in a calm tone, "Rey, can I get a bit of your time? I would like you to come to check Phoenix's weapons real quick. I might have a track I'll let you borrow if you do~". Tarak threw a quick smile and gesture over to Black Phoenix as he held up a cassette, it looked worn, yet it had written on it 'Assault Metal'. It is a cassette filled with some of the 'greatest hits' Tarak was able to find throughout his time. He continued as he lightly waved it and said, "All the way from Lyran Commonwealth, even has some of the trademarked music the Solaris Games has". Yet when he said this, he heard a loud and commanding voice resound through the cave. Gawain calls his swords, Tarak thought to himself, 'Took you long enough'.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by Pilatus
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Pilatus Delightfully Unrefined

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Reya Wyatt


Her mind always wandered when she worked. Most tasks, particularly with battlemech systems were so prosaic that thinking about something else for Reya was almost automatic. Three screens glowed in front of her, three tablet-size computers, one weighing almost as much as a brick and two more with a hydra of wires spilling from the top and bottom coiling into the exposed inner systems of Ziska’s Raven and leading out through the open hatch to the torso where the armor plating on the sides of the machine’s birdlike frame were carefully propped open rather than fully removed. If something went wrong, she cautioned, she wasn’t sure they’d have even the basic means to reattach it, but there was enough room for Reya to squeeze underneath and that was good enough. One hand hammered away rapidly on the heaviest of the tablets that rested on her thigh, the bottom of which featured a set of basic keys used for commands and made a surprisingly satisfying snap with each press. The chattering sound filled the mech’s cockpit and she barely looked at it as monochrome green command lines blinked, changed and scrolled rapidly. Occasionally, the haughty sword and arm motif of House Liao would blink on screen in pixel art with a strongly worded warning and she would blast right by it with another command. She reached up from her somewhat comfortable position against the back of Ziska’s front folded seat, her feet propped against the rear bulkhead over the removed panels, towards one of the screens but her hand slowed slightly and her fingertips hovered over the touch screen.

The thoughts always came in a crashing line and she couldn’t put them away for long. Even doing so immediately left a sick feeling of guilt. Almost like a betrayal, like she needed to hold on, like someone needed to hold on. She wasn’t a warrior. She knew the others could just move on and deal in their own ways, it was their life, but at the same time watching them press forward; leaving the dead behind them made her feel like she barely knew them anymore. All her relatives of a similar age were male and throughout schooling all of her social associations were carefully scrutinized and curated. When she had set out on her own and bought-in with Colonel Wayne, she and Lena had instantly clicked together like sisters and now her sister was gone, just deleted from life and it felt like a physical piece of her soul had been removed. The sinister, hard-logic, inside her mind always piped in to tell her that this was a part of the business for which she had voluntarily signed-on and she could feel nothing but revulsion at herself for the thought. That logic could apply to assholes like Golden Boy, but Lena was better and worthy of remembrance. The recurring image of Lena’s empty bunk and the last glimpse of the room they shared back on the ship as they scrambled to escape the capital city cut Reya like nothing had ever done in her life. Her fingertips trembled over the small screen and she could feel tears rolling down her cheeks and she looked right through the patiently waiting prompt.

With a tiny motion she pressed one finger meekly against the weathered surface of the tablet and cried as the internal workings of the Raven reacted to her command. Unseen systems hummed and whirred around her as she buried her head in her knees and sobbed alone in the dark.

Moments passed and the Raven’s interest in its newfound programming subsided. She could hear the movement from the bustle outside and breathed in deeply, tilting her head back to stare up at the cockpit ceiling and letting her thoughts roll away again like a thunderstorm passing into the distance. This was what made her different she reminded herself. Not being smart or talented or even good looking. This was why she was different from her mother. Not sitting back home in Tabayama making court with her father’s bureaucracy sycophants. This was real, this was living. She breathed in heavily again through her nose and rolled the bottom of her shirt up to wipe her eyes, brushing some loose strands of her disheveled pony-tail away from her eyes. The habitable climate on Espia normally required a jacket and their adopted cave home was equally cool, but she had been moving around enough to be down to a tank top and her regular leggings. She sighed and raised herself up slightly and unfastened the tablet from its magnet hold shaking her head thinking to herself grimly that it had been such a week of firsts: First time running for her life, first time being shot at, first time losing someone she truly cared about and as she glanced up out the top of the Raven’s hatch at the roof of the cave- First time being in a cave.

The hard casing of the tablet thudded against the top of the Raven as she climbed out and the cool air quickly found her exposed skin and light layer of sweat. The deep mineral smell that permeated everything was again prevalent before her rather than the somewhat unique aroma of Ziska’s cockpit. She glanced around briefly, having been down in the cockpit for some time, but her first attention turned to the base of the battlemech where a proper small table had been set out, complete with a makeshift cloth and one occupant who sat reading along with a rather large calico cat that seemed proudly contented on top of the table. The very young blonde girl, no more than ten years old, looked up at Reya. “All done?

Reya again brushed back hair that had become a mess from being in the cramped space and sat down with her legs hanging over the side of the mech. She wiped one hand over her face. “It’s ready.

Were you crying?

Reya looked at the girl. Sunshine “Sunny” von Kemp was Lena’s younger sister. She had escaped the chaos with Reya. On the table next to some more books was a green Marauder action toy that she knew belonged to Sunny’s brother, Diego, who did not escape. The happy cat was Ziska’s personal pet. The great, or depending on who was being asked, infamous, General Kerensky.

Is that Never Ending Hearts Revolution again?” Reya asked, not answering the child’s question.

Uhhhhh, of course!” The girl smiled. Proudly displaying the front cover of the latest issue of the Draconis Combine’s most popular manga about the power of love and friendship at Suribashi High on Luthien.

You know, I’ve been to that high school on Luthien. It’s not that exciting.” Reya said with a teasing smirk.

Oh whatever, you went to boring engineering school at the Imperial Institute.” The girl shot back. Somehow she simply did not believe Lena had been killed and that was final. Any attempted conversation about it abruptly ended with an indignant crossing of the arms and shaking of the head, punctuated by a stern, She’ll be back. However, she did believe that Diego was in trouble and had to be saved. She missed them both terribly and Reya had essentially become her immediate caretaker.

A voice called from the otherside of the Raven and she glanced over her shoulder to see Tarak approaching. Before he could even speak, she glanced across the cave to the makeshift mechbay that had been assembled for his Phoenix Hawk. Everything that had been or was currently in service of the Green Knights sported top performance weaponry. Her weapons shot farther, faster, ran cooler and reloaded quicker than anything that could be purchased brand new on Terra. Darkly, she had thought repeatedly about how the Crimson Fists must have had a field day with the salvage after the battle for Balya Gora and that there was a distinct possibility they’d soon be facing off against some of her creations. She was going to have to get creative to give them another edge, but for now they just needed to survive. She crossed her legs and tilted her head slightly as if regarding Tarak with some amusement from her elevated position. “Trying to woo me with a mix tape, huh?

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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by Abstract Proxy
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Right Where I Belong...


"You've got an hour," Ziska barked to Davids, grinning like a fiend as she stole the cup of coffee he held in his hand. From his perch sitting atop an empty ammunition crate, Davids still reached to her chest.

"I heard," Davids coolly replied, snatching back his coffee cup before Ziska could finish all of it. Minhas sat next to him and smiled broadly at the sight of Ziska. Frequently amused by Ziska's antics, she burst into a fit of laughter witnessing Ziska's latest crime. Bowing low, as if she had completed a theatrical performance, Ziska flashed her a quick wink, deftly avoiding the kick from Davids that narrowly missed her leading foot.

"How's my girl?" Ziska cooed as she took a light step away from Davids. She nodded in the direction of her Raven, gazing with real affection at the sleek BattleMech. A game of poker, a dangerously large pot, and half a melted Jenner to soften the fresh pain of her humbled opponent later Ziska had somehow left the Capellan interior one state-of-the-art BattleMech richer.

"Good enough," Davids said. "Patched up the damage from your most recent adventure, ammo is still low, but not much we can do about that given the circumstances. You should be good, provided you don't do anything stupid again."

"Why, MechTech Davids, when was the last time that, I, the great and honorable MechWarrior Ziska did anything foolish."

The glare that Davids shot back her and his well-practiced frown, told Ziska all that she needed to know and she stifled a chuckle. She trusted Davids. He was an honest pirate, just like her. She knew he would get the job done or at least as good as it could be given the lack of time and spare parts. She trusted her Astechs. Kesi, Sunter, Kan, Licht, and Minhas. They'd do what Davids told them and then some. They were good and getting better, she only hoped they would make it. Civil wars of any scale were rarely clean affairs in her experience.

"This isn't a game, Ziska," Davids finally said, his voice a low rumble of gravel. "You need to to take this seriously. And for the love of whatever Canopian whore you worship, stop drinking the actuator oil. We're going to start running low soon enough."

"Minhas, don't let our dear friend Davids, deceive you. We have plenty of actuator oil remaining," Ziska began, shooting daggers at Davids, and then tutting loudly as she made eye contact with the young Astech. "And as for any whores, I will not be lectured on my intimate relationships by a man with no fewer than fourteen children scattered across the Inner Sphere. For shame, Davids."

"Ziska," Davids hissed, shifting angrily to his feet, "Enough of your jokes. Enough of your little jabs. You're drunk. You're drunk on the poison that you swallow. You're drunk on the fighting. You're drunk on all of this. Worse still, I would bet that you're enjoying every moment of this. You're a danger, you're risk, and you're out of control...again."

Minhas let out a gasp and seemed to be desperately searching for a way to escape as her two nominal supervisors bickered.

"Would you prefer it if I sat here weeping? Do you want me to apologize? Should I feel bad?" Ziska spat back, her voice full of anger. Ignoring David's towering height, she stepped closer, and jabbed a finger aggressively into the large MechTech's chest. "This is exactly the sort of game that we signed up for Davids. You just won't admit it. None of you will."

Davids didn't bother to reply, turning around, and sulking away with a furious shake of his head. Satisfied with her victory, Ziska cheerfully waved goodbye to the still flustered Minhas as she strode towards her RVN-3L. She loved it already. Just like she loved every BattleMech she piloted. The BattleMechs were just like her cherished lovers, past and present. Wonderfully exciting and remarkable in more ways that she could ever hope to remember. And always, always daring her to live more dangerously.

Her chat with Ingrid had been amusing. The Duchess intrigued her. Her ideals. Her code of honor. Her insistence on carrying a sword into battle. Her obsession with dueling enemy MechWarriors. Ziska enjoyed the strange company that she kept. Mercenary life suited her. She reveled in conflict. She constantly sought out trouble. She found fights even when they were on R&R and if she couldn't find them then she created them. Peace never suited her. It left her too much time to think. Thinking too much was dangerous. It lead to questions. Questions that Ziska had no intention of ever asking, much less answering.

Times were good again, Ziska thought, bristling with new found energy. She felt good. She felt alive. She was exactly where she was supposed to be. Fighting terrible odds. Painted a villain. Worrying only about the next moment. Trying only to survive.

She could see the weariness in the faces of her comrades. She could feel the growing tension. She could sense the desperation. She could hear the raised voices and it was impossible to miss the tear streaked faces. They didn't understand. They couldn't. Not completely. Not yet. They hadn't seen the things she had. They hadn't done the things that she had done. They wouldn't. They couldn't. Not yet.

Espian Guard. Crimson Fists. Great Houses. ComStar. Even the Star League, before they had gone tits up. They were all the same. They weren't heroes. They weren't any better than she was. They were worse. Far worse. Ziska didn't leave irradiated wastelands behind her. She didn't starve entire planets. She didn't send entire generations to die to move a line a couple of millimeters on a star chart. She killed only those she had to.

But they paid well. C-bills were enough to soften any remaining pangs from her conscience. She did her best not to listen to the whisper in the back of her head. She didn't let her thoughts wander. There was only one thing to worry about. Surviving. She'd fight. She'd hold the line. She'd kill whoever she had to. But she would survive. She would survive even if it meant killing half the planet. Better them, better them than her. The dead would understand and if they didn't, well, then she'd just run away faster.

Spotting the crowd arranged around her RVN-3L, Ziska shouted in mock offense, "Hey! Raven rides are 1,000 C-Bills, for a group it's 5,000 C-Bills. Don't think there's a discount just because we are friends!"
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by Th3King0fChaos
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Th3King0fChaos The Weird

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Location:
Abandoned Neodymium Mine
Eunsan Mountain Range
250 Kilometers Southwest of Balya Gora
Date/Time:
March 22nd, 3030/ 0730
Interactions:
Reya Wyatt @Pilatus
Gear:
His clothing: Boots, long-sleeved shirt, pants, gloves, holstered handgun with 20 rounds


Tarak looked towards Reya and she seemed to take amusement from his offer, as it seemed a bit of playfulness came about. Tarak gave out a slight chuckle and a smile as he said, "Oh~, how could you tell?" Tarak lightly tossed the cassette into the air before grabbing it again as he continued, "Who knows? Maybe this is a ruse and it's filled with a bunch of love songs?" Tarak extended his hand out to the sky as he sets the cassette over his heart and exclaimed, "What if it is filled with all the songs that make my heart feel something!" Once he brings his hand down to cover his face as he looked toward Reya. His eyes landed upon hers as he gestured his hand away from his face and extends out towards Reya as he finally said, "Feel something for you~". As Tarak's hand was extended out, he prepared to assist her down.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Letter Bee
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Andrew Rivers

THREE DAYS AGO

Why can't he get over it?! Why can't he recover from this damned emotional state quickly? Andrew Rivers was not like ordinary teenagers; he was smarter and wiser and was precocious and he was supposed to prove himself early! But instead, he was scared and afraid and sad and depressed! His friends and mother were dead or imprisoned but he can't save them! His father was probably worried about him and probably suffering from night terrors as well! And worst of all, he was still crying and shaking every few hours even when awake!

The door to the room he was confined in opened, and a voice said, "You okay, Merc Kid?"

Another boy, just like him, carrying a breakfast bowl of gruel and a spoon. Nothing much to look at, even if Andrew had the time to even think of other peoples' apperances.

Andrew clawed back his composure, sitting in front of his tear-stained pillow, before giving his response some thought and saying, "No. But you'll probably say that you've lost someone important to you and I should suck up my troubles because you've suffered worse and I've had a cushy life before ending up here, yes?"

The other boy put the bowl and spoon on a small nearby desk before scowling and saying, "Yes, suck it up, Merc Kid; I lost family when the Espian Guards killed them six months ago. You did nothing, though," the emphasis on the word 'nothing' was intended to mock. He then closed the door and continued, "You drove your motorcycle to the city instead of joining your father in running to the mountains. You could have drawn the enemy's eyes to us. And for what? Getting our help when you did nothing for us in the first place?"

Andrew tensed, trying to keep his mind clear, trying to prevent himself from lashing out or breaking down, before breathing in, out, and saying, "And yet they're alive; as you said, they're in the mountains. And most importantly, they still have Mechs; you never said they lost them."

He looked the other boy in the eye and said, "I'm still the best chance you guys have of an alliance between your partisans and the Green Knights. My father - Who is an old friend of The Captain - will give everything to have me back. With Mom either dead or in the enemy's prison, he shouldn't have to worry about me."

"So you say your family won't sell you out," the other boy said. "You say that your family of mercs are going to help us just for you." He then looked straight at Andrew and said, "I don't believe a word of it."

He then opened the door, locked it from the outside, and stormed out, but strangely enough, the revelation that the Green Knights were still alive gave Andrew new hope. The Rebels' trust needed to be gained, an alliance between them and the Green Knights needed to be forged. Then he can rescue his mother and the other civlians held by the enemy and begin the long process of taking this planet away from them and whoever provided their allies, the Crimson Fists, their own Mechs.

All he needed to do was to wait even longer...
Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Pilatus
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Pilatus Delightfully Unrefined

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Reya Wyatt


Reya couldn’t help but smirk a bit at the ridiculous performance put on by Tarak nor could she deny that it really felt good to smile for a change. There was no secret among the surviving Green Knights that she had taken Lena’s loss especially badly and that as a result, approaching her had become even more precarious than usual. Tarak was the first person within the last few days to even attempt any level of comedy towards her and it was like an unexpected medicine in her veins. She could feel herself relax just a bit from his antics, however, the Colonel’s call to assembly meant things were again going to start moving quickly. She hopped down first to the scaffold and made her way to the bottom level carefully watching her step across the hasty construction, displaying surprising balance as it swayed slightly beneath her. “If that were the case, then you’d do better with the former.” She said referring to the trademarked metal riffs of the Lyran Commonwealth he’d first mentioned. Taking his hand, she deftly sashayed off the bottom step as daintily as if she were in a formal ballroom and walked past him towards Sunny at the small table. “See, he gets it.

Sunny rolled her eyes and continued reading.

Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to play it on.” Reya continued, removing her gloves and pouring a small cup of tea from a thermos. She examined her nails briefly and scratched General Kerensky behind the ears who, very ungracefully, rolled over on her back for further scritches to the belly. “We didn’t exactly have time to haul my stereo from the dropship.” She said turning back towards Tarak, seeing Ziska arrive with her usual bravado. She crossed her legs and took a sip as the Raven pilot began naming prices as she approached

Oh is that all?” She said to Ziska with a raised eyebrow and took a sip. The large feline under her manicured nails stretched out and purred audibly even over the din of activity around them.

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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by wikkit
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It's never a guaranteed thing that Ingrid will decide to enforce her vision of a perfect mercenary unit on the world on any given day. It is an inevitable thing, though.

A short distance away from the crowd assembled by Ziska's 'mech, the trademark warning of a clattering saber hilt against a belt came. Strutting forward like a military inspector critical of all she saw, the Duchess was wearing the House uniform - and nothing but, to her chagrin. It was too cold to wear the heavy metal of the cuirass, and the lack of protection gave a clear view of the wrinkles forming in her outfit.

Ordinarily, it was perfectly straightened and smooth, almost inhumanly so - but since she's taken care of it herself in this cave, her grooming's gotten worse. Her boots remain polished, though it must've been...no, looking at them closer, she's clearly done it just before she walked up to here.

Despite their brief discussion earlier, there was going to be no salvation for Ziska today. With how she looked to the side and huffed before she spoke, she was clearly trying to contain her indignant anger. Few would get this sort of grace. She put one hand on her hip and one in the air, and shouted "ZISKA! Lowering yourself from Mechwarrior to the level of a mere taxi driver! You are a better person than to charge for rides."

"And you," she turned her finger to Tarak, "get your mind on preparation instead of simplistic dalliances - the right to be beheld by your courtier is the right of the victor, not the one yet to win! Which is to say, let her work and get thyself to better pursuits!"

That one she wasn't even contemplating before she got here; she just managed to see Tarak's mock goo-goo eyes being thrown Reya's way and decided she was going to be more of a problem.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Starlance
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Passing by the other ‘Mech bays wasn’t an optimistic sight. Not even two Lances when the medical casualties were taken into account. But passing Ziska’s bay revealed more than the usual gaggle of technicians around the Raven, and spotting at least two other MechWarriors in the group, Marit went to take a look to see if perhaps the upcoming briefing was being discussed. With Ziska present, betting on the mission objectives or outcome wouldn’t surprise her.

Then another person showed up, and as the first words were spoken, she felt like she might owe Reya an apology. Between the blue bloods of the Green Knights, Reya had moments when she wasn’t bearable. Ingrid, on the other hand, seemed to have moments when she was, and it didn’t look like this was one of them.

”Acceptable morning everyone.” She greeted the group, figuring that was as good as it was going to get in the coming weeks, leaning over for Kerensky’s required daily scratch. ”What’s wrong with being a taxi driver? First ‘Mechs were construction equipment, their pilots were little more than crane operators, a cabbie is still a step up from that. Besides, everyone whose ‘Mech has hands will probably be carrying supplies on the way back from this run. Ready to add ‘lowly freight hauler’ to your resume?” She ribbed the deposed duchess with lighthearted irreverence.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Th3King0fChaos
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Th3King0fChaos The Weird

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Location:
Abandoned Neodymium Mine
Eunsan Mountain Range
250 Kilometers Southwest of Balya Gora
Date/Time:
March 22nd, 3030/ 0400-0730
Interactions:
Reya Wyatt @Pilatus, Marit Saarinen @Starlance, Ingrid Daschke @wikkit, Emma Ziska @Abstract Proxy
Gear:
His clothing: Boots, long-sleeved shirt, pants, gloves, holstered handgun with 20 rounds



Tarak heard Ziska from behind yelling about not being a taxi driver, he chuckled slightly as she made her way over. Tarak was getting his mind out of this funk, at least for a time, and to see people able to smile for a bit was something like a medicine. Especially seeing Reya able to smile, Tarak knows the tell-tale signs of someone who cried, even if they hide it. As he assisted Reya down, she spoke of how they were unable to retrieve her stereo system, and almost when he made another idiotic line about them sharing his in his cockpit, yet the fun police arrived. Frau Ramrod appeared and seemed to have been the same as ever, she arrived yelling. She started with Ziska, which almost bought him enough time to sneak away, yet almost was not good enough as before he could fully get away, she called out to him. Most likely with the wrath of 1000 of her ancestral honors.

Tarak froze mid-step, making a bit of a joking stance like he was imitating a cartoon thief tip-toeing through the dark before being found. Tarak spun on his feet to face the Duchess as he stood at attention, in an almost too tall stance he stands there and says in a slightly bombastic voice, "Yes Ma'am?!" As she spoke, Tarak's chin was higher than normal, as he was trying not to let Ingrid see a slight smirk forming, yet the others could see him as he said once she finished, "Ma'am, is this about me not-pft-flirting with you?" Tarak almost couldn't get that last bit out, as he was about to laugh just thinking about saying that. As after delivering that line, he prepared to run away, knowing that she might start either yelling or fighting.
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by wikkit
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Marit received an upturn of the nose for her attempt at educating Ms. Daschke. "And the Knight was born from the horse pulling a plow, the archer from the hunter taking fowl. All of war comes from humble origins, but we don't need to regress." She walked over to her, looking up at her fellow pilot with crossed arms. From this close, it doesn't take much to notice that her eyes betray how tired she really is beyond the bravado.

"We will take salvage with us because it is our assigned duty...we aren't charging anyone to do this for us, salary notwithstanding. There is a difference!"

Despite her blustering, Ingrid knew that there wasn't going to be much success here. The people of this company largely shirked the respect they could give to their title, and after a year she was quietly coming to terms with that. Even if they never acted like Mechwarriors...they were still Mechwarriors. Some respect must be given from her to them. However, this didn't absolve them of their sins.

Speaking of inabsolvable sin! You got the rise you wanted, Tarak. Are you willing to pay the price for it?

Ingrid immediately snapped her head towards him, instantly leaving Marit behind. Now, she didn't act flustered like a child, her face didn't grow any more red than it already was in this cold. Her back arched upward, and she marched right up to look at the man from up close. There probably was quite a pronounced height difference between the two.

"The nerve. If I were to seek your hand, Mechwarrior Tarak, I wouldn't be so indirect. Do you understand?"
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by Abstract Proxy
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"A tournament!" Ziska suggested, positively jumping with glee at the sudden chaos that had overtaken the hanger in mere moments. Hearing her shouting, General Kerensky raised her head lazily and eyed Ziska curiously, but warmly from Reya's lap. Having decided upon her course, Ziska bowed low, in a courtly fashion towards the yawning cat, before continuing. "A tournament for the most virtuous Duchess Daschke's hand. Once we have defeated our present foes that is. General Kerensky will surely permit such a noble competition to take place in her great hanger."

Her voice now free of any vulgarities and mercenary language, Ziska spoke in gentle, luscious courtly tones and with all the formality of a Great House court noble lady.

"It is not right that a highborn women possessing such noble blood, such grace and so many, many wonderful talents should be left unattended among the multitude of rogues, rascals, and villains that can presently be found in our distinguished mercenary company."

"My most honorable person excluded, of course," Ziska quipped, grinning at her newly claimed audience.

Dancing in between Ingrid and Tarak, Ziska gently guided Ingrid backwards and away from the taller MechWarrior. Offering the tip of an invisible hat, Ziska bowed formally at Tarak and channeled her best recollection of a proud knight that she remembered from some ancient tragedy performed in the Magistracy of Canopus, "Tread carefully, MechWarrior Tarak, for should you continue to take such liberties with our most esteemed lady and dare to utter such base accusations again...then I, the most chivalrous and crafty MechWarrior Ziska, great student of courtly love that I am, will have to resolve the matter with great violence."
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Ingrid had a moment with Ziska just earlier this hour. A moment. She hadn't had a moment with almost anyone else up until this point! All this time in the company and she had to go it alone for some reason, as if everyone here resented her. So, surely, that moment of kindness should excuse some of Ziska's indiscretion.

And indeed it did. Some. Not all.

She stood there while Ziska walked up, stepped back as she literally waltzed up (with oddly practiced form for a Periphery bumpkin), and then simmered, bubbled...

By the time she had offered to defend her honor via a duel - in much the same way Ingrid herself had said multiple times prior - she was just short of boiling.

"Ziska," she said, low and quiet as she began to roll up her carefully maintained sleeves, "I would thank you for the thought if you were sincere, but I am not stupid enough to fail to notice when I am being made a mockery of...
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Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by AndyC
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"That's enough, both of you," Colonel Wayne interrupted as he approached the group of Mechwarriors. "Mechwarrior Daschke, since you seem to want to get physical, I'll be happy to provide you with a workout. Two hundred push-ups, and I want them done before briefing."

Before the snickering could begin, Gaius turned his attention to Alleycat. "Mechwarrior Ziska, I want two hundred from you too, for instigating. Next person who causes friction in the ranks gets a Level 1 Disciplinary Action. We may not have a brig at the moment, but trust me, I'll find the time and the equipment to make one. Briefing is in fifteen; both of you get to it. The rest of you are dismissed."

Ziska was a born troublemaker, and usually Gaius let her attitude slide; playful banter and a little mischief here and there was harmless, and usually good for morale. Right now, though, tensions were high and nerves were on edge; the Green Knights needed to be reminded that they were professionals, and client or no client, there was work to be done.

What exactly that work was, however, was still formulating in the Colonel's head. He needed a few details before the actual plan could be finalized.

Making his way to the large open cavern in the mine that had become their makeshift motor pool, Gaius's nostrils stung with the smell of petrochem as fuel lines snaked across the stone floor between the handful of fuel tanks the Green Knights had managed to escape with, and a trio of mostly-intact APCs. He caught the occasional whiff of ozone and made sure to avert his eyes from the blindingly bright flashes as arc-welders fixed new (or new-ish) plates of armor onto one of the tracked vehicles.

Standing on top of a crate and calling out orders, a wiry dark-skinned man with a prosthetic arm and leg directed the flow of activity. Gaius looked at Chief Aadil's artificial arm, and subconsciously rubbed at his own, a brief jolt of phantom pain causing the fingers of his cybernetic left hand to flex open and closed.

Deep down, Gaius felt a pang of envy as he watched the Deck Chief work. Solomon Aadil was a brilliant technician before being maimed by enemy fire, and his injuries didn't hinder his ability to do his job in the slightest. Colonel Wayne, though was a born Mechwarrior, and his own injury meant that he would never again be able to do the thing he was born to do.

Chief Aadil turned to the Colonel and stepped down from his perch. "Colonel Wayne," he said with a casual salute, "work is on schedule, we should be ready to deploy on time."

"'Should be?'" The Colonel asked with a raised eyebrow. "Something slowing you down, Sol?"

The Chief shrugged. "No one major thing, just a thousand small ones. One of the APCs had to be assembled together out of the wreckage of two other ones, and there's no end of minor hiccups that come with that. But more than the technical issues, there's the issue of morale, sir. The techs and astechs are tired, and angry, and everyone's got their blood up. I can't push them too much harder without something or someone breaking."

The Colonel glanced around, and saw the fatigue on the men's faces as plain as day. Most had sunken cheeks and baggy eyes, from lack of sleep and barely rationed food. Many had been wearing the same clothes for nearly a week. Everyone was covered in a sheen of sweat and grime. They needed to keep pushing forward in order to survive, but days of living in squalor with no release was wearing them down.

Gaius nodded slowly, considering his options, then made up his mind.

"I want that area cordoned off this evening," he pointed to a relatively empty corner of the cavern. "A couple of barricades to keep people from spilling over it. I'll make sure Master Sergeant Dalton has an accidental lapse in the security watch and that the patrols don't come through the vehicle bay for a good two hours tonight."

Chief Aadil perked up. "You're letting me open up the Scrap Yard, sir?"

"I'm saying I plan on having a nice, quiet evening to myself before we deploy, Sol," he said, not making eye contact, "And that I'm not going to be bothered by reports of the crew getting rowdy."

Sol nodded, an understanding smile nearly splitting his face in two.

The Scrap Yard was, by design, the worst-kept secret among the Green Knights' ranks. It was an unsanctioned, 'underground' fighting ring meant to settle grudges and let off steam. Everyone from the lowest astech to the lance-commanding Mechwarrior could challenge- or be challenged by- anyone else in the Scrap Yard. Fighters were encouraged to hold nothing back, fights only stopped by knockout or tap-out. And it was an understanding among the Knights that any issues, no matter how personal, that were brought to the Yard were considered dropped when the fight was over.

This sort of behavior was considered wildly unprofessional, so officially, Colonel Wayne and Captain Roth didn't know about it. Unofficially, they always made sure the quartermaster requisitioned a few extra empty storage crates, barricades, rolls of athletic tape, and bandages.

"While I'm at it, Sol," he mentioned in a low tone, "I couldn't help but notice that Pops hasn't set up one of his ethanol stills. I want you impress on him that he is absolutely not allowed to siphon off ethanol fuel from the decommissioned vehicles and start making moonshine."

The Chief glanced over his shoulder at the leathery old man who slouched against a cavern wall, mirrored shades covering his eyes and a hat pulled down so that no one could tell if he was even awake, and laughed.

Pops was a cantankerous old tech who had joined up along with Wrathchild; nobody knew what his real name was, and every time someone asked about where he came from, he had a different story. While he looked after Lena's younger sister Sunny as if she were his own, he had taken Lena's death hard, and was prone to sulking. Getting him up to his old antics-- or rather, telling him he couldn't get up to his old antics and then conveniently moving out of the way-- would hopefully go a long way.

"I'll make sure the boys are all operating at peak efficiency, sir," Sol saluted.

"See to it, Chief," the Colonel said, before continuing his walk across the vehicle bay, toward the thick tangle of cables and wires that led from various points in and outside of the abandoned mine, and all converged on the Mobile Headquarters.

"...just like the time you said you saw a 'Highlander Burial' in person," Gaius heard Lieutenant Stephanie Lyons arguing as he stepped through the hatch of the Mobile HQ.

"I totally did!" Cadet Zack Windham protested, shifting his notable heft in his chair as he turned from his station to bicker. "Okay, it wasn't in person, but the holo was--"

"A fake, man," Cadet Marcus Higgins, leaning back and smirking. "You can't believe everything you see in the Immortal Warrior vids."

Cadet Windham deflated. "It wasn't Immortal Warrior," he pouted. "It was Tales of the Bounty Hunter."

Lyons just scoffed in disgust, while Higgins did his best to not burst out laughing.

"Lieutenant, Cadets," the Colonel announced his presence, causing the communications team to nearly leap out of their seats in surprise. "I trust you've got the report on enemy comms and movements."

"Sir, yes sir!" Lt. Lyons snapped to attention, while Higgins rolled his eyes at her formality. "There's been a lot of chatter from the south, especially towards the city of Yuzhny Portveyn. We haven't been able to pinpoint the exact location of the Crimson Fists, because, well, modern comms don't allow for that without--"

"I'm aware, Lieutenant," the Colonel put a hand up to stop her from going into a technical lecture.

Modern battlefield communications equipment required sophisticated and robust computer systems on the ends of both the sender and receiver. Any message sent through comms, be it a Mechwarrior or an enlisted infantry grunt, would be thoroughly scrambled and encrypted before it was transmitted, and only other comms units with the same decryption key could unscramble the message. An enemy who intercepted a transmission would only get indecipherable noise, unless they either also had the decryption keys, or an expert codebreaker with hardware that hadn't been available for common use for centuries.

"Right, sir, sorry, sir," Lyons sputtered. "Given the density of comms traffic, we're able to tell where most of the Espian Guard forces are, at least their general location. More importantly, we've picked up plenty of second-line and auxiliary communications from the area, and lucky for us, they're just using old-fashioned radios. Which means we have an exact fix on the target locations. Cadet Windham?"

"Hm? Oh! Right," Windham answered, fumbling over the mess of empty chava cups, candy bar wrappers, and Battlemech action-figures as he searched. While the Lieutenant's station was always kept clean as if she were expecting a surprise inspection at any minute, Windham's station looked every bit like the 'man-cave' of a perpetually-single man-child, complete with a badly-edited deep-fake poster of a nearly-nude Natasha Kerensky striking a suggestive pose with the barrel of an autocannon.

The Colonel smirked when he saw the poster. He'd heard once that the real Natasha Kerensky had tracked down whoever was selling those fakes, and stomped him flat in her Warhammer. Though he'd also heard a different story that she'd only threatened to stomp him unless she got a cut of the profits.

"I've, ah, I've got it right here, sir," Windham said as he produced a rolled-up paper map, and rolled it out across the table in the center of the room. Once upon a time, that table contained an advanced holographic battle-map that could update in real-time to show information across an entire continent. Now it was little more than a heavy piece of furniture.

Colonel Wayne studied the map intently. "You're sure this information is accurate?"

Lt. Lyons nodded. "As of this morning, it's up-to-date, sir."

The Colonel returned the nod absently, and stared at the map for a few more minutes, the pieces starting to click together in his mind.

"Ummm, sir?" Cadet Higgins piped up. "Mission briefing is in less than a minute. All due respect, sir....do we have a plan?"

Gaius Wayne closed his eyes, nodded to himself, and rolled up the map.

"We do now."
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by AndyC
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M I S S I O N B R I E F I N G


"All right, Green Knights, listen up!" the voice of Colonel Gaius Wayne echoed throughout the abandoned mine. The Mechwarriors, tankers, infantrymen, technicians, and other surviving personnel of Gawain's Green Knights had gathered in the large central chamber of the mine, which had been converted into their ad hoc 'Mech Bay. In the week since the coup, they had been pushed to the brink just to stay alive, and the Colonel knew they needed a purpose, an objective, in order to keep going.

Now he had that objective. And what's more, he had a plan.

"I don't need to tell you that the situation we face is a hard one," he began. "We've lost a lot of good people, and a lot more of them are currently in enemy hands. Make no mistake, we are currently down, but we are not out, not by a long damn sight. Before we're done here on Espia, we will get out people back, we will get our pay either from a new client or from the enemy's own stores, and we will get our revenge on the Crimson Fists. However, if we're going to do that, we need to look at our first steps."

Colonel Wayne gestured to Lieutenant Lyons, who switched on an overhead projector. The projector cast an image of a regional map, an abstract of the actual area divided up into hexagons, the standard representation used by 'Mech commanders since the days of the Star League.



"This is our effective area of operations," the Colonel began. "The New People's Democratic Republic of Espia has taken control of three of the four major cities on the continent: the primary population center of Geum Haebyon, the river ports of North and South Nui Awa, and the capital city of Balya Gora. They currently have control of the spaceport, the fusion reactors that provide power to the cities, and most if not all of the industrial centers of the planet. At least, in theory. In practice, the Espian Guard has spread themselves dangerously thin trying to hold down so many pressure points at once. Unless they concentrate their power in a coordinated attack, we can hit them in a number of places with relatively little risk."

Producing a laser pointer from his jacket, the Colonel indicated the one city in the south that was not sporting the banner of the NPDRE.

"The one holdout through the coup so far is the port city of Yuzhny Portveyn, on the southern end of the continent. Several holdouts from Governor Xiu's administration still hold power there, and guerilla fighters from the Espian Free People's Movement have made it increasingly difficult for the Guard to take hold of the city. Premier Federov has ordered that a column of tanks move south from Geum Haebyon to Yuzhny Portveyn, in order to reinforce the Guard forces already fighting there, which will crush the Xiu loyalists and the Free People's Movement guerillas if successful."

Moving the dot of the laser pointer north on the map, the Colonel indicated Hex F-10, which was marked with an icon of a warehouse, and highlighted with a yellow crosshair.

"The column of tanks has already moved south of us, but are expecting support from a series of supply depots the Guard has set up along the way," Gaius continued. "According to second-line transmissions our comms team intercepted, at 0600 hours tomorrow morning, a supply convoy will head out from this depot, consisting of three J-27 Ordnance Trucks, carrying over seventy-five tons of long- and short-range missiles, autocannon shells, and machine gun ammunition. The ammo convoy will be joined by three flatbeds containing spare plates of military-grade armor, two flatbeds each containing 5,000 gallons of drinkable fresh water, two more containing pre-packaged rations, and one carrying medical supplies including equipment to set up a MASH unit. Everything a fighting force would need to keep up sustained combat for months."

"The convoy is expected to reach Yuzhny Portveyn within 24 hours of departure,"
the Colonel said, before an eager grin turned up the corners of his mouth. "We are going to make sure those trucks come to us instead."

With a few murmurs from the crowd, the Colonel began to lay out the plan.

"This will be a straightforward smash-and-grab operation," he stated. "At 0500 hours, our 'Mech lance will descend upon the supply depot, under the cover of the ECM bubble from Alleycat's Raven. This will effectively cut off the depot's ability to call for reinforcements. Because the bulk of the Espian Guard is currently diverted to the south, we expect the objective to be lightly defended. A few laser turrets, and no more than a handful of light armored vehicles: primarily Scorpion and Striker light tanks. However, civilian comms traffic indicates sightings of at least some elements of the Crimson Fists operating not too far from the target area, so keep your heads on a swivel."

The mention of the Crimson Fists drew a few angered rumbles from the crew, to which the Colonel put up a hand.

"I know we're all itching for some payback against the Fists," he acknowledged, "but we can only effectively engage them after we have enough armor and ammo to take them in a stand-up fight. As it is, the window of opportunity here is going to be very tight, so you will have to stay focused and on-task, understood?"

After a few "sir, yes sirs," he nodded.

"Now, once the base has been breached, the second part of the attack will commence," he said. "We have three functional APCs, which will enter the depot after the 'Mech force has disabled its primary defenses. Two of those APCs will contain Master Sergeant Dalton's infantry platoons, who will secure the convoy trucks and neutralize any hostile forces nearby. The third APC....will consist of volunteers. Anyone capable of hotwiring and driving a large vehicle will commandeer the supply trucks. Once the convoy has been secured, they will proceed north back to our headquarters, using the Raven's ECM to keep them from being detected or tracked by long-range sensors."

Colonel Wayne took a breath, to begin the bad news of the operation.

"As I mentioned, the window to get this done is going to be very tight," he said. "While most of the Espian Guard are concentrating on the fighting to the south, their air force is still very much active in the area, as well as elements of the Crimson Fists, who we know are actively searching for us in order to finish us off. While the Raven's ECM will keep the depot personnel from calling for reinforcements, as soon as we move out, we won't have that protection. What's more, the ECM field will prevent even mundane communications and check-ins, so the Espian Guard will eventually notice a blank spot in their network, and will likely send elements to investigate. By my estimate, we will have no more than fifteen minutes between the beginning of the attack and the arrival of enemy reinforcements, so we'll have to act quickly."

"What's more,"
he went on, "While under the cover of the ECM field, you will not be able to receive communications from outside. Meaning I will not be able to direct you from the Mobile Headquarters. That said, you're all professionals. Come what may, I'm putting my trust in you to make the correct decisions in the field."

Colonel Wayne gestured again to Lyons, who turned the projector off.

"If you've got questions, now's the time."
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Raven Rivers

"I'm joining," Raven said. "I presume that if we succeed, we can get in good with either the Governor's holdouts or the Espian Free People's movement? If so, which of them would be the better ally, or do we have to choose just one of them?"

He then looked at Reya and Hilde, before saying, "I also propose that if we succeed, we assign diplomatic duties to our most diplomatic member, probably one of our nobles due to them commanding more prestige." Turning back towards his Colonel, Raven continued, "I know that planning for the possibility that we might succeed this is incredibly foolish, but your plan is sound - It's up to us to implement it and I have enough faith in everyone else to plan for a likely success."

Then the Pilot offered another idea, "Once or if we prove that we're not a spent force, we should open channels of communication with both the Governor's holdouts and the Espian Free People's Movement and ask which of them could offer us more of anything. I personally vote for the Espian Free People's Movement, but it would allow us more leeway if we're not fixed on a potential new client. This is, of course, assuming we win; on the very small possibility that we do lose, well, we lose and hope for a miracle."

He then looked at everyone else and said, "Speaking of miracles, never discount the possibility the enemy might have something good happen to them out of the blue; fate and luck are fickle. We need to keep some ammunition in reserve for the unexpected as well as be prepared to brawl with our mechs if need be..."
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Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Bork Lazer
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The plan was impressively thought out, Aroxy admitted. Securing resources was important to even begin attempting their other objectives. He honed in on the projector, his mind listing out chokepoints, points of egress, ambush positions and potential nerve centers to cripple before pausing. They weren’t on the offense. They were retreating. Aroxy readjusted his positions and began thinking of other tactics before his crewmates began to have a different say on the matter.

“ The fucking FPA, Raven?!” Morven shouted out loud. “ They were one of the many reasons we got into this mess in the first place. We could have been more prepared for the Espian Guard stabbing us in the backs if we weren’t distracted by their protest pageant show! Besides, all they’re good for is stinging the bum of the Espian Military or the Crimson Fists before skittering off. Any of them so much as look at them for more than a few seconds and they’re nothing but a greasy spot on the pavement. We don’t need the help of some guerilla layabouts.”

“ Lotta bravado for someone who belongs to the last tank crew in this company, Morven.” Helma groused sarcastically in a slouched slump “ We’re a walking slug compared to every IFV on this planet and our infantry support is nil, man. I’d be open to negotiations with them.”

Morven shook his head in frustration, taking the fuming cigar out of his mouth, and stamping it on the ground with the heel of his boot.

“ I’m just saying - “ Morven’s mouth clamped shut upon Aroxy, sending a pointed glare towards him and the other members of the crew. Aroxy’s gaze softened as he regarded Raven with a measured voice.

“ Pilot Rivers.Whilst I do sympathize with your positions and agree that our capacity for force projection is less than satisfactory, we must consider two facts before we commit to finding new clientele on this planet.”

Aroxy leaned forward and lifted up one finger.

“ Firstly, for six months before the planetary coup, we assisted the Espian Guard in maintaining House Liao’s supremacy against their enemies, including the Espian Free People Movement. They are a coalition of multiple factions and thus, we should consider that they would be in most likelihood antagonistic towards the possibility of diplomacy or being our clients, gentlemen. Enemies of our enemies will still be our enemies in most circumstances, gentlemen. Thus, I recommend we prioritize diplomacy with the remnants of the Governor’s forces before we consider associating with the Espian Free People Movement”

“ Next - “ The second finger was lifted as he looked directly at the colonel. “ - our primary clientele is the Capellan Confederation and no doubt, any contract that assists with the goals of the FPA or the Espian Free People’s Movement would run agrounds against the relationship we have with them. I advise that our main priority should be to evacuate our own assets and not get tangled up in this quagmire. ”

“ However, Lieutenant Morven and Pilot Rivers have brought up a valid point. The FPA or the Heavenly Sword, god forbid, does present an uncontrolled variable towards our operations on Espia and the success of our evacuation.” Aroxy steepled his hands together, awaiting a reply from the colonel. “ What rules of engagement apply to these elements if we encounter them during this operation, colonel?”

“ Shoot and rob their asses the first chance we get - “

“ Quiet, Morven,” Aroxy muttered.
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