Prolouge to Op XIII: Big Machine

Tau Ceti IV: A Dim Cantina

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It had been over a week since the defense of the Dauntless, the drones and the damage done. Nine days to be exact. Nine wasted days. I reached past the steadily amounting glass bottles and reached over for the one that was most full and still chillier than luke warm. It happened to be the sweatiest bottle on the table that had moisture all the way to the top of the label where inside the beer's level sat. I finished the bottle without taking a breath, my face reddening as I slammed the bottle down, gasping for air. I reached for the datapad I had been previously holding with one hand while waving vaguely with another towards the barmaid for another set of ice cold friends. "Three at a time" I had told her. "Keep'em comming..." That was five days ago.

Ever since I could dragg myself out of the feild hospital I had found myself in, I had been here, sleeping one of the small rooms that the barkeep rented to travelers. I had been without contact with the others. My scorched fingers had difficulty holding my cigarette they had been shaking so badly. They had been burned smooth when I had held on to the controls for long after they seared my flesh because I never allow the automatic shutdown take control from me. They were smooth with swirls of ash and dead black skin tracing ornate patterns around my joints. My head throbbed and I rubbed the sweat that had been accumulating across my furrowed forehead and inbetween my nine day old stubble. My leg was bruised to hell and I was pretty sure that I had cracked my collar bone by the looks of the traction harness I woke up wearing all those days ago. Pain was a constant but I didn't want to be strapped to a medbay table or feild cot, the alcohol would suffice as a painkiller for now. It masked the sensation of broiled nerves and aching tissues and even eclipsed some of the loss of Jason, who fell in my defense. His mauler took a hit for me and he went critical, blowing out my cockpit glass and blinging me with a thirst for vengence that did not cease until I had blacked out after suffering from what I could only conjecture at this point was a heat stroke. I fugured that I was rehydrated enough after the three unconcious days of an IV drip.

I felt and probably looked like hell but I was on to something important. I wanted to find the people responsible for the creation of those drones. I wanted to know where Harris and Reese had disppeared to. I wanted to know most of all where the real Saxon was. It was worth the pain I felt to continue my search. Datapads stacked to one side of me, countlessly rearranged as I reevaluated the information in them as of greater or lesser importance. Slowly they were leading me to one terrible and dark conclusion. The Astrid's ion signature left a breadcrumb trail off-world. After the ship got refitted with a conventional drive that was a size too small for the craft, its engines had to work time and a half to do the job of a correct fit. But the budget was limited and of course, jumpships were almost a wholly irreplacable rescource so spareparts were hard to find. The extra emmisions from the engines were the dotts that I had slowly been connecting. Planetary news was also of great concern to me as well. The channels were mostly newscasts of three mechbattles about nine to twelve days ago. One was at a suspected Blakist stronghold, one by the dropship of a mercenary group and the earliest one was at the far end of the contenient. I could only guess from the fly-bys of news choppers that showed the wreckage of a great dropship that Saxon had arrived on this planet in a flaming ball of death. Most likely killed by the Blakist anti-air emplacements. I've sent inquiries to every system in the direction of the Astrid's trail for 250 light years and had some astronavigational analysies sent back to me for a few hundred C-bills. The breadcrumb ion trail led to the territory of the Free Worlds League, the seat of House Marik.

Are you ok hon?

I groggily look up at the barmaid long enough to recognize the long features of her face and bounce my eyes back to the data pads. I mumble my response but it wasn't any language I had recognized.

Any thing I could get you?

I pushed a few of the beer bottles towards the edge of the table and held one up, shaking it lightly before returning to my work. She removed a few and went to dispose of them and bring me another three. My cigarette burned close to the filter, the point where the hot vapor was too roasting to inhale. I dropped it down the neck of one golden bottle where it hissed with the small amout of liquid remaining, filling the vassel with a thick cloud. I stared at the bottles as they were randomly arranged across the surface of the table like peices of a chess game in full swing before glancing back to my work. From all of the conspiracy theories, far fetched conclusions and thinly drawn assumptions I had dissmissed and evaluated, I think that I had the answer. I had the who, the why and the where. I'd need to reorganize my thoughts after what I anticipated to be the most severe hangover of my life and bring this immediately to Ben's attention. After I slept tonight and made my way back to the Dauntless, we would undoubtedly be departing.

People gaped at me as though I were a ghost comming back to haunt them as I made my busy way up through the decks of the Dauntless. I had last been seen about ten days ago and that was being dragged out of my smouldering mech. The alloy was probably too hot to handle and elementals probably had to dragg me out, that image would give anyone a reason to suspect that I had indeed died. I cheated death on the faces of those that recognized me until I came into Ben's office with my bandaged hands full of datapads. He sat behind his desk and before him was a man I had recognized to be as the engineer in charge of our Mechbay. A soured expression wiped across Ben's face and he started to object.

Just where the hell-

No time, look at these.

I handed him the data pads that summed up the results that I had gleamed from the others and pointed to major articles.

I think I found them, there on Sadurni.

He studied them intensely, eyes racing from line to line quickly. Ben's jaw dropped slowly before he lowered the datapads and met my gaze.

Is this true?

I nodded, thinking of my horrid appearance

As far as I can tell.

Then we've got to act quickly on this.

Any post Op prep should be done here. Wrap up those loose ends and get ready for the next Op.

My Apache fighter had been mostly repaired by now. The damage done to it had almost entirely been just to the armour so that, combined with having just joined with the Legionnaires, meant that my fighter had been quite a ways down on the list of scheduled repairs from the last OP. The electrical systems that had faulted or overloaded during the last conflict had been quickly repaired, mainly by myself, within a couple days of returning to our base of operations. The armour itself hadn't been patched up til just this morning though when a basic mobile repair station was freed up for a few hours while more complicated repairs were being performed on the 'mechs.

The dropship departing from the Gellen's Heights spaceport had brought me something else to occupy my time though, an aerospace fighter. I had acquired the fighter as a prize during a private tournament on Solaris. The event, sponsored from my current employer at the time, pitted 16 aerospace pilots against each other in a regular single win knockout tournament. Each round alternated between conventional aerial combat and space combat. The winner was awarded a modular aerospace fighter capable of atmospheric combat. I had managed to get the fighter delivered from off-world where I had the fighter stored aboard a civilian jumpship 1 days jump away from Tau Ceti IV.

Pushing open the doors to the Cantina I was abruptly confronted with two very big and burly men brandishing weapons. It took me a second before I realized they were the new bouncers that had been assigned after with Kintaru within the last day or so. The Cantina had been fairly laid back about security, but apparently somebody didnt care too much about having someone with a sword come and start hacking the place up. I'd only heard about the incident second hand so I wasn't sure just how much was exaggerated but I didnt think the bouncers would be full time for very long.

"Uh, Hi guys, How's it going?" I said more than a little intimidated, not just by their sheer size but by the large and dangerous looking weapons that were held at the ready.

"Hmphh!" The one bouncer grunted as the other held a hand out to stop my advance.[color]

[color=yellow]"Sorry sir, but no weapons are allowed past this point. Please had over all weapons with their safety's engaged and follow me to the weapons check in."

I had nearly forgotten about the 12-gauge pump action shotgun I had strapped to a holster on my back. I had been carrying it around with me ever since I caught word from an ensign assigned to the Dauntless that we may be moving out shortly. I never liked to be caught unprepared, and I still wasn't fully at ease yet from the last OP. I kept expecting the Legionnaires to come under attack at any hour even though all hostilities had ceased over a week ago.

Nonetheless I willingly handed over the shotgun and followed the guard to a coat check-in that had been hastily reinforced and converted into a weapons locker. After recieving the ticket that would allow me to retrieve my weapon upon leaving I headed over to the bar and grabbed a seat.

Motioning to the barkeep I gave him my order, "Start me off with a double Rye and coke in a tall please."

"Coming right up"

As I started my drink I couldnt help but wonder what was in store next for the somewhat infamous mercenary unit known as the Legionnaires. Somehow thoughts of the drones I learnt about during the debrief filtered into my conciousness and I couldn't help but shudder at the thought of a Rifleman Battlemech being outfitted with one of those units, truly that would be a fighter pilot's worst nightmare. Or at least it was mine.

Meanwhile on Sheratan…

“What are YOU doing here?” I stood flabbergasted. My worst fears had come true.

“Our work has finished on Valasha, so we transferred ourselves here.” Nero spoke in a calm, monotone voice. Sakaki folded her arms, avoided crossing her eyes with mine and began to pout. This had to be some kind of sick joke. Sam tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around.

“Did I just hear right?” He whispered into my ear. I nodded slightly to confirm his worse fears. He quickly buried his head into his hands and took a seat in the administration office.

“Here are our papers…” Nero handed me two paper folders, presumably containing all their details. As he did, I caught a glimpse of his hand. They weren’t of flesh and bone. They were entirely metallic, synthetic replacements. He had made no attempt to disguise them with synthetic skin like most people would.

“That probably explains how he can lift that giant sword so easily…” I thought.

“They are NOT for your eyes Kintaru!” Sakaki growled as I took them from Nero. I frowned at her obnoxiousness.

“Though Sakaki is rather outspoken, she is correct Lieutenant Kintaru. I believe that only a senior officer – namely Major Maxwell – may read over those. May I speak with him?” Nero responded, glancing at Sakaki in an attempt to calm her down.

“Actually I’ve been sent on orders for you to meet with Major Maxwell on Tau Ceti IV, where the majority of our forces are currently stationed.”

“Is that so? When are we due to leave?”

“As soon as I’ve seen the final recruit, we can make preparations for this afternoon.”

“Then we shall wait here until that time arrives.”

Several hours later…

After meeting with Drake Sinclair, the third and final new recruit, Sam, Nero, Sakaki and I had boarded our transport to Tau Ceti IV. Sam and I had our own compartment, while Drake and the other two sat in their own seats in the compartment next to ours.

“Well, that’s taken care of… now I just pray the journey is without its complications.” Sam sighed quietly, referring to what had taken place in the Cantina earlier today.

“I know what you mean.” I said, looking out through the nearby port window and into the vastness of space. “By the way, why hasn’t Charles joined us?”

“Yeah, about that… Charles has some business to take care of. If he’s able to, he’ll join us via his own means. Right now, I do know he is a little pre-occupied.”

I tittered lightly. Charles was a hardcore businessman and now that he was pack at his thrown, it was unsurprising that he would get back to old habits. Sam looked out of his port window, thoughtfully as if something had captured his mind. I didn’t know what it was, nor was I too concerned.

“I wonder what awaits us now we have three more additional members…?”

Dauntless – The chamber of Saburo Kintaru…

Seven days. Seven long days separated from that Kintaru bastard. I had failed to kill him in the previous operation because of several factors. However, it mainly boiled down to one thing - my refusal to end his life by means of machine and technology. No, that was far too easy! Pull a trigger and its over. That would not be Kei-teh Kintaru’s end. His death would come at my own hands.

I closed the cut throat blade into it’s casing and placed it on my bedside table. Looking over my self-inflicted wounds that coated the entire length of my arms, I realized that I was quickly running out of room to add anymore…

The façade I was running was still keeping its effect on the rest of the Legionnaires. They still believed I was the brother of Kei-teh Kintaru and that was how I intended it to stay. The subconscious that was known as Saburo was locked away in my (his) mind. The subconscious was shattered but still existed. My will power and mental strength were suppressing it. However, I couldn’t entirely erase the Saburo subconscious, just like he couldn’t kill mine before the roles were reversed. I’m sure that this would all sound extremely interesting to a psychologist, but I didn’t care in the interests of others.

I wrapped my still bleeding wounds in bandages. The constriction of the wounds sent jitters of ecstasy racing up my arms and down my spine. But I couldn’t wait around to experience the joy further more. I had a very busy day ahead of me. It was killing time.

Several hours later

I wondered around a war torn Tau Ceti IV. Its streets were quiet and inhabited by human rodents that tried to piece together the shattered remains of their lives. Those who couldn’t find a single fragment would wonder around aimlessly. Some tried to start a new – mainly with the bottle. It wasn’t long until I found a Cantina of sorts.

The smell of strong smoke filled my nostrils as I pushed open the bar door. The smell reminded me of death and bones that had turned to ash. I scanned the area and chose a booth in a darkened corner. Though the bar wasn’t without it’s human rodent infestation, it was quieter than most dank bars. Perhaps these war torn people just didn’t have enough to talk about. Their minds were pre-occupied with the horrific memories of recent past. That just made things a whole lot easier for me…

I signaled the barmaid for a drink of her strongest. Alcohol was something relatively new to me. It was a substance that I could quickly loose myself in. It wasn’t a substitute for murder – not even close. It was something I could use to help quench my violent mind for a moment or two. That wasn’t for the sake of my victims. It was for my sake. In order to keep up my disguise, I had to cut down my indulgencies. Had I carried on, I may have been caught.

As I scanned the bar with the liquid suppressor working its way around my mind and body, I spotted a rather drunk Desperado scanning his way through several datapads. I was relieved when he finally made his exit with some ‘vital’ niff-naff-and trivia.

“Spare any change mista?” A slurred voice called from behind. I turned around and caught glazed, bloodshot eyes that matched my own. “Can ya, mista?”

“Please, take a seat!” I said as a wide, toothy grin spread over my face…

An hour had passed since then, and the very desperate man I had met in the bar was now in the alleyway. He swayed and stumbled over his own feet, far too intoxicated to even stand.

“Wha-are weh doin’ ere?” he managed to say.

“I have a surprise for you…” I murmured, my heart beating with excitement. The alleyway grew darker and darker, and the sounds of the outside world and the bar’s inhabitants grew quiet.

In the dim light, a black cat froze in fear, it’s eyes wide as it analyzed for any threat. It’s tense stature quickly relaxed as it saw what it usually saw this time of night. Drunken men stumbling out of the bar was not unusual for it to see. The cat quickly retreated, unthreatened and unaware that he would be the last person to see this man in a fine, living condition.

I looked over my shoulder once, then twice. The drunken man gurgled and mumbled something unintelligent before a rammed an open palm over his mouth. His eyes shot wide open and I could see all the fear and shock pouring out of them. In the their very reflection, I could see my own eyes looking back at me.

“I am the white in the eye… the still born child. I am always there, I am always with you! I am Mr Chingely, the white in the eye. I am forever with you!” I hissed as I ploughed my knife into his stomach. My hand covering his mouth muffled he wails as I repeatedly stabbed the man.

He crumbled to the floor a bloody mess. My hands were covered in his blood and my indulgencies were finally sufficed… for now.

“Now…” I whispered between panting breaths. “Now to take care of the body…”