[center][color=fdc68a][h1]Chapter 1:
[u]Aboard the Ankhanne[/u][/h1][/color]
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Ulrik knew the moment he signed up for the position that there would be some things he'd have to get used to. He spent the better half of his life in the military, ingraining the wisdom and behavior of soldiers into his mind. He woke up 5 minutes before the clock every morning and habitually folded his sheets and tied his shoelaces. He brushed his teeth on the toilet and finished breakfast in minutes, like it was expected from all the recruited militia that he used to serve with in the infantry. Even as conditions got better during his years as a MechWarrior, he could never shake off the habits that the drill sergeants and officers so meticulously instilled in them over the years.

Being a mercenary was new to him, and so was the lax rules and schedules that this lifestyle afforded to them. By no means did he mean to be a nuisance for the crew, but old habits die hard, and some were immortalized in his brain already. Still, it came as a pleasant surprise to hear all the questions that he was asked by his new crew, the fears of having to wait in silence quickly dashed away by a barrage of questions. Some, he knew the answers to, whilst for some he was in the ark just like his new pilots. 

As the klaxons blared for the second and third time during the questions, he habitually grabbed onto the edge of the desk with one hand and looked down at the timer on the tablet he was holding in his other. Then, just like clockwork, the klaxons blared one more time, and the still unfamiliar voice of the ship’s captain began to speak. [color=8493ca]“Attention all crew, this is your 10 second warning. Sit down or grab something, we’re going into FTL in 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Jump.”[/color]

For a moment the buzzing of the oxygen recyclers came to a halt, and the words of the captain hung in the air like a silent whisper. It was the longest second in the history of seconds, stretched into an eternity as fingertips buzzed with the excited atoms as the K-F field contorted space and time around the ship. For the next 12 seconds the ship’s rattling stopped as it was suspended in a slushy of agitated medium that kept them safe from the horrors of a drive failure, and by the time everyone got used to the feeling of mild nausea and deep-seated joint ache that came with the jump, the ship already finished it’s interstellar transit, and reality came crashing down on them like a wave.

All the buzzing and rattling of the ship came back and Ulrik took a deep breath as he afforded to himself a small smile.[color=f7941d] “Well, that wasn’t so bad. The perks of visiting a neighboring system.”[/color] With that he picked up the tablet once more and used it to quickly start displaying a few new images on the screen behind himself. He didn’t have much more to show, but his pilots were smart, and he could afford to let them fill in the blanks. [color=f7941d]“Honestly, all great questions, and I can even answer some of them. Let’s start with transit time: the Ankhanne can theoretically do a 3G burn, but in it’s current state we’re glad we can manage a comfortable 1G of acceleration. Now that the jump is over, we’re looking at a 16 hour journey to Lamar IV. Should be enough time for everyone to get familiarized with your mechs, do a few runs in the sims and get some shut-eye before we make our landfall. We'll have plenty of time on the way back as well; the next JumpShip arrives in 5 days to pick us up.”[/color]

He would turn around and focus on the display for a moment as he brought forward one of the images about the AO. [color=f7941d]“Nuclear war leaves nasty wounds, but it’s the visitors from the asteroid belt that pose the most danger to the moon.”[/color] He zoomed out a little on the image, revealing the earlier picture to be on the edge of a massive crater that seemed to cover a good bit of the planet’s visible surface. [color=f7941d]“Even though we caused nuclear winter, this crater is what did Lamar in, a few million years ago, stripping it of most atmosphere. Suffice to say, nuking didn’t help, but now it’s also extremely cold. As for the exact details…”[/color] He looked up for a moment, his eyes jumping between Katrina and Hamazasp, as if trying to recall their exact questions. [color=f7941d]"The atmospheric pressure is about 0.4 terran standard; not good, not bad. The heatsinks won’t be happy, but it should help somewhat that the average surface temperature is a balmy -13 C°. I wouldn’t worry too much about overheating, but make sure to double check your cockpit seals before leaving the mechbay. We’ll be landing on the eastern rim of the crater, so expect relatively featureless, steep terrain: we’ll have to contend with snow and ice as we traverse the landscape.”[/color]

[color=f7941d]“As for the Opfor..”[/color] After a few taps, he brought up a blurry, heavily zoomed in image from the recon drone that showed what appeared to be several hundred lights in a tight cluster on the surface near the peak of the crater’s rim, and a few concrete buildings that proved quite a challenge to distinguish from the terrain. [color=f7941d]“That’s the best I can do. We can expect much of the facility to be underground, but what else they might have we just can’t know for sure. If they are pirates, the contract didn’t specify any bounty per head we bring in, so I reckon we’ll do the best we can whilst minimizing our exposure to enemy fire. If they surrender, great, we’ll take their supplies and leave them for the next JumpShip. If they bring out some dusty RetroTech Mechs from the First Succession War, we were acting in self-defense. Rules of Engagement are as simple as that: I don’t want to see anyone holding back on the trigger and getting shot because of their consciousness. Just be mindful: if you can take a target safely, do it, otherwise we’re happy taking the Republic’s payment with or without having to fire a single shot. But I wouldn’t bet on that, Pirates have a habit of not surrendering.”[/color] He fell silent afterwards, watching the faces of his pilots react. He cared little for pirates, but deep down he wasn’t so sure that the mission would go as simple as shooting at pirates in a simulator. 

Finally he turned his attention towards Remy, Zohra and Jaromir, letting out a small hum as he scrolled through his tablet, eventually putting it down. [color=f7941d]“Our intel is spotty at best, so the plan is to be read as soon as we hit the ground to leave the DropShip, we’ve got some Large Lasers to keep us covered, but we need to make a bridgehead as quick as we can. Once we get preliminary topographic scans from orbit we’ll come up with a more detailed plan. As for a contingency, let’s hope we don’t get to that. There’s little terrain to hide behind, so if someone starts to pepper us with LRMs, we’ll have to take them out as quickly as we can. And if we land and we pick up assault mechs on the sensors, we’re heading straight back towards the jump point.”[/color] Ulrik let the crew examine the display and the data he sent to all their datapads for a little while longer before he turned off the screen and clapped his hands. [color=f7941d]“Alright, I think it’s about time I answered the last question I know you all have: what we have available. I can tell you we don’t have any air support, but I managed to strike a deal that keeps us away from Scorpions. It’s a… questionable selection, but I have faith in your abilities to make it work.”[/color] With that he beckoned for the pilots to follow him, and he waited for everyone to get out of their seats before he turned the lights off in the briefing room and led them down the decrepit hallways of the ship to the Mech Bay.

[b][i]Ankhanne, Mech Bay[/i][/b]

[color=fff200]“And I’m telling you, that Firestarter won’t go anywhere until you’ve made sure there's no more leakages in the cooling system! I don't care if you need to take the whole thing apart, make sure it works like new, or you can be the one to give it a test ride!”[/color] The deep, commanding voice of Chief Mech Technician Elena reverberated through the halls even before they turned into the large mech bay. The expansive room was filled with activity as everyone made their way onto the ‘shop floor: flickering lights from arc welders painted the dull room into a vibrant shade of blue for moments at a time, and the sound of drills and mechanical saws filled the air with a constant hum and buzz. The cranes and walkways were just as ancient as the rest of the ship, and standards have come a long way since the Black Eagle was first produced: the bays were of a rickety design and one could only wonder what parts of the electrical or hydraulic system had failed over the years. Standing in the middle of it all was Chief MechTech Elena, a woman just as large as the burden of maintaining the collection of museum pieces that dotted the bays on either side. She was well-built and carried a few extra pounds on herself, but more so than anything she towered over the rest of the technicians by at least a foot. At least 7 feet tall, as soon as she spotted the pilots she hurried over to them with an angry expression on his face. [color=fff200]“Commander, I’m glad you’re here! These technicians that the Republic lent us are so… incompetent! We will need more time to get all the ‘Mechs pathed up and ready for combat, more time than we have.”[/color] Her voice carried a heavy slavic accent, and it was full of concern. As she looked over the crew she made the impression of someone who doubted whether or not the pilots would survive their first deployment, regardless of their skills. [color=fff200]“These mechs are ancient… Did you know the 2 Mongooses served in the First Succession Wars? And whatever dump they managed to get our Javelin out of, I’m sure I could build a better mech with the parts at hand…”[/color] She let out a frustrated groan, ready to begin her next rant, but Ulrik gave her a look that quickly made her pipe down and accept that there was nothing to be achieved by complaining.

Indeed, she wasn’t wrong: all the mechs seemed like they’ve seen better days. Armor plates were still missing from almost all of them and getting bolted on them even as they spoke, actuators getting replaced in arms and legs and the guts of the Firestarter were still down on the shop floor as what appeared like an army of MechTechs worked on the various internal components. The paint of them was a mishmash of Lyran and Draconis camo patterns from the past several hundred years, but a few of them had completely unique paint schemes that seemed to make no sense: like the aftermath of pirate salvage. And who knows, maybe they were. The stark exceptions to this rule were the Centurion standing at the far left corner of the bay, and the freshly painted Raven and Locust. These two light mechs carried the light blue and red color schemes of the Free Rasalhague Republic, painted with various runic patterns from the ancient days of Terra’s nordic cultures. Easy on the eyes and hiding formidable mechs on their own, they represented a woefully small (both physically and percentage wise) part of the selection available to them.

[color=f7941d]“Here they are, in all their glory, the best mechs the Republic could spare for us. I’d say we got a bargain, the DCMS even threw in an old Dragon they weren’t using anymore.”[/color] Ulrik explained, trying his best to make a joke as he began to walk down the aisle in the middle, passing by groups of technicians as they worked on the mechs. [color=f7941d]“I’ve read all your bios, and I have a rough idea what mechs you are all familiar with, however, I saw it prudent to let you decide amongst yourselves who gets what. We’re a group now, almost a family, so it’s best that I don’t step on your toes.”[/color] He stopped in his steps, like someone who had forgotten something, and then he turned towards Karissa with a softened expression on his face. [color=f7941d]“Right, almost forgot that you knew your way around these mechs as well. I’ll let you run free with the other techs if you’re inclined to get your hands greasy: if you can get the cooling system of the Firestarter working before we make landfall, I won’t check if you folded your sheets. For a week.”[/color] Ulrik let out a small laugh, finding his own dad joke quite funny before she shook his head. [color=f7941d]“I’m kidding, I’m too old to check each of your bunks every morning. But I’ll drink to that once we get back from the mission.”[/color]

He then turned to the rest of the crew and gave them a small nod as he beckoned around at the mechs with his hands. [color=f7941d]“Now, everyone, pick your rides. The Centurion is my personal souvenir from House Kurita, but everything else is yours. Ask Elena if you have any technical questions, otherwise the MechTechs should be able to help set you up with your mechs.”[/color]

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