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The Universe, 3029


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Later that day...

C.V. Hurry Up Bessie, Mule-class Dropship
Enroute to Twycross III
Twycross - Lyran Commonwealth
December 8, 3029
_______________________________________________

"...and that brings us back around to Scenario 2," Lieutenant Jaeger advised, pulling the corresponding infographic back up as he and I jointly addressed the gathered cadre we'd conscripted for our impending dash-and-grab. The low lights of the market display room was washed in shades of red and green as annotations splashed across animated representations of a Hover APC and a Goblin medium tank inching over sand dunes toward a large, rotating crosshair. "Our computer modeling indicates that this is the most likely situation to pan out given what we know about the locales and atmospheric conditions. Given the variables at play and the undue attention that deploying a suspiciously high-tech BattleMech would draw, no matter how much we rough it up ahead of time, we're moving forward with this action plan."

Lieutenant Jaeger clicked a button on the presenter. A TO&E for the operation winked onto the screen.

Team 1
Captain Maxwell - Eden - Goblin
Sergeant Schuster - Rebus - Goblin
Baroness Incendio - Exile  - Goblin

Team 2
Lieutenant Jager - Bastion  - Goblin
Lieutenant Weyland - Predator  - Goblin
Levi Wright - Thermo Man  - Goblin

Support & Medical
Cadre - Hover APC
Mallory Aldon - Doc - Hover APC

OpCom
Warrant Officer Chase - Radar - M.V. Hurry Up Bessie

"As you can see, we're running a fairly lean operation on this one. Two vehicles should keep a pretty low profile, especially in the region we're expecting to drop into based on some initial chatter we've been able to round up thanks to the talents of Baroness Incendio," Orlex continued, nodding toward Octavia. "The command and tactical teams will operate from the Goblin tank piloted by Lieutenant Weyland. Technical assets, including our cargo handlers and medical support, will accompany us in the Hover APC. Dividing our teams between two vehicles will create less of an opportunity to experience a single point of failure, particularly in the case of an ambush. If the weather gets too dicey for the Hover APC to continue, we'll transfer its crew to the Goblin and continue on."

A hand went up in the back of the briefing room. It was Doc Aldon.

"Yes, Mallory?" Jaeger asked, looking inquisitively toward the medic.

"Well, I hate to be the gloomy Gus here, but what if we get separated by one of those storms and can't get to you? Any place that has weather named after Satan himself is bound to be full of surprises," Aldon observed, squinting at the overview. "Are we gonna have...survival suits or something?"

"If the worst happens, then we'd naturally want each crew to take whatever measures are necessary to shelter in place or get to a safe location. We'll outfit everybody with survival gear, yes, but let's operate under a doctrine of not getting separated. Especially in a place like this. That's a good segue, actually," Lieutenant Jaeger responded, passing me the remote. "Captain?"

"Thank you, Mister Jaeger - nice work getting this intel pulled together in such a short timeline. OpCom will be provided by Alyssa Chase - she'll post here at the Hurry Up Bessie and provide mission control, real-time weather updates, and aerial surveillance courtesy of two heavy drone aircraft that our employer included in our care package 'just in case.' With an eye in the sky, we should have fairly ample advance warning if anything starts heading our way either from out in the desert - or from Haven."

I clicked the presenter. The tactical overview wiped away, replaced by a slowly zooming in overview of a dilapidated, weather-worn town.

Haven-1.jpg.dc30cc947fae6961b4c0ed1e6f33d42a.jpg

"Ladies and gentlemen, the single point of interest in the southern hemisphere - at least, in the area where we suspect the cargo container ended up. The oldest part of the town is underground, built as a series of connected, weather-resistant vaults once the original colonists figured out that living on the surface is a bad option unless you like persistent sunburn and chronic exfoliation. For some reason, though, people kept moving here, and as the town grew, the vaults got built out. So, folks started building above ground - that's what you're seeing here, in the only picture I could find of Haven on a sunny day. The newest areas are those furthest from the center of town. They tend to be the least sheltered, and thus where the highest concentration of poverty and crime are. I guess it follows; people there have to deal with the wind ripping parts of their houses off all the time, and that doesn't do a lot for your pocketbook or the safety of your belongings."

I hit the 'Advance' button on the remote again. The photograph switched to a satellite view.

Haven-annnotated.thumb.png.9b6f9f6b1ee44f10825c97e7ca59a397.png

"Since we're not sure if Haven is our place - or where the shipment is relative to the town - I can only give you a general overview and plan of attack. As you can see, there's not much to this place - the 'residential and business' end of the town, such as it is, lies to the north, serviced by a rail depot that sees two trains a day. South of the train station is Plutus Docks, the only spaceport within almost 500 kilometers - though the term 'landing pad' better describes the facility. There's a refueling station and some basic service amenities. That's about it."

"Plutus," Nick scoffed. "The goddess of profit."

"The irony does not escape me," I agreed, pointing to a section of the map labeled 'The Dives.'

"Remember I mentioned the end of town where peoples' houses get blown apart? That's this tent city affair down here. The reason things look so sparse is because Haven recently got blasted by one of the bigger storms on the planet, and it more or less scrubbed the end of town south of the spaceport clean off the map. The shanties haven't been rebuilt just yet. Some folks have decided to cut their losses and build new houses into the valley walls. Others have turned to squatting and scavenging to make ends meet. Crime and vagrancy are at an all-time high."

"Oh, fun," Bishop quipped, crossing his arms and glowering at the map.

"Indeed," I responded. "So let's talk about our ground plan. If this turns out to be our place, we're going to set down at Plutus Docks at night. Although any arrival of a big-ass cargo ship is going to attract attention here, at least at night, there will be fewer eyes on us. Once on the ground, we'll unload the expeditionary vehicles and try to get a fix on where the haul is. If we're lucky, it's out in the desert, and all we have to contend with is the weather. If we're not, and it's up in town, we're going to have to devise a strategy for retrieving it that doesn't involve us getting every gun, knife, and improvised bludgeoning device pointed in our direction. We are not authorized to be operating here, so MRB insurance isn't going to cover any ruckus we cause."

"Do we have any idea what we're looking for?" Octavia asked. "Or are we just going to hand out fliers asking the locals if they've seen 'expensive metal box' wandering around?"

I chuckled and clicked the remote again.

"We have a rendering of the cargo container. Bear in mind, we didn't physically get ahold of it on Oberon, so we're working on the data that we were able to abscond with from the Irian facility. According to their database, this is what we're seeking."

image.png.762648d163bf92fbe45e69b5418b1e8f.png

"Now, with that said," I continued, "even if it hasn't, by some miracle of Blake, been broken into, there's still the matter of locating it in a town presumably full of cargo containers. The two things it's got going for it are that it's a lot newer and more high-tech than what I observed in some of the other archival images of the town, such as this one..."

Haven-2.jpg.55ec8eaab535c5f6afbd05429918245a.jpg

"...and it's likely to be one of the few not opened or otherwise inhabited. I checked the port schedules, and it's been almost a month since the last major delivery to Plutus Docks. Therefore, we'll be working with a somewhat leaner field."

Another hand went up. It was Levi Wright.

"Mister Wright?" I asked.

"Two questions, sir," Levi began, standing up and glancing around self-consciously. "One - I'm not totally clear how I fit into the mission profile, and two - is Sergeant Jenkins going to be joining us on this one?"

"Good questions, all of which are general interest to the larger group. Please - have a seat," I nodded. "Lieutenant Weyland will be our driver and principal tactician on this recovery venture. Nick Schuster will provide technical expertise and help provide electronic countermeasures and ingress into any barrier systems, should it become necessary. Octavia Incendio has prior experience with some of the types of gangs we might encounter down on the surface and is also an accomplished profiler; we'll be relying on her to get a read of the folks we might encounter. Levi, we need your prowess with defeating conventional locks and overriding mechanical systems - ignitions, wheel immobilizers, that sort of thing. Lieutenant Jaeger and I will be coordinating ground operations and providing operational security - that means we're carrying big scary guns on this jaunt and trying to look intimidating. Mister Jenkins was given prior authorization for...shore leave...but we've tapped him to send us intelligence about the town, because he's apparently entered himself into a martial arts match there," I explained, casting an incredulous glance at Jaeger as I spoke the last words.

"Alright. That's where we're at as of now," I concluded. "In the next day or so, we speculate that we'll be within transponder range of the cargo container. With any luck, it'll still be online and transmitting. We should have a better handle on what we can expect to encounter from there. Bear in mind, all plans are subject to change based on what we learn, so don't get too married to this plan. It's apt to change somewhat. Lieutenant Weyland will ensure you all have copies of his OpSec plan for the deployment at the end of this briefing. Are there any other questions?"

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**** note: special thanks to @Charles Maxwell who helped me out with Captain Maxwell's dialog  and mannerisms for this post ***

C.V. Hurry Up Bessie, Mule-class Dropship
Enroute to Twycross III
Twycross - Lyran Commonwealth
December 8, 3029
_______________________________________________

With no apparent questions, the briefing was adjourned and the staff started filing out. I lingered behind a little bit and waited for the room to empty out. Captain Maxwell stood off in the front of the room having a quiet conversation with Lieutenant Jaeger as he unplugged his laptop and slid the pieces of it into a leather valise. I wasn't sure what the discussion was about, although I caught bits and pieces, phrases like ''at arm's length,'' ''compartmentalized information,'' ''contingency plan,'' and ''off the books.'' It was pretty clear that there was a high degree of sensitivity about this mission, and if I had to guess, it was probably due to the fact that the Crayven Corporation wasn't paying for what we were about to do and any losses would come out of our....or rather, Aegis' pocket. To say nothing of how upset the Corporation would probably be if we wrecked any more of their stuff.

A few minutes later the captain came toward the exit. As he was about to pass me, I made eye contact with him and he stopped. "Hi, Schuster, something I can do for you?"

"Yes, sir, there is, I was hoping we could talk briefly." I replied. Captain Maxwell looked over at the Lieutenant.

"You go on ahead, Jaeger, I don't want you to miss out on the pot roast. I'll be down shortly."

"Sure thing, I can drop that off for you on my way." Orlex replied, offering to take the briefcase for Charles.

"Much obliged." The captain responded as he handed the case over. "So, want to take a walk?"

"Where to?" I asked. The captain pointed in the general direction of our improvised Mech Bay.

"Let's go sightseeing." he said, starting to head toward the hatch that ended at a catwalk down into the cargo levels. As we walked, I was silent at first.

"Well, spit it out." Charles said. I looked toward him in surprise.

"Sorry?" I asked.

"You obviously have something on your mind. You should know by now I don't bruise easily. You'd be doing us both a favor to get it off your chest."

"Well..." I said, swallowing. We arrived at the part of the catwalk overlooking the cargo bay. Down below were our Mechs......or more accurately, what was left of our Mechs. They were enshrouded in scaffolding and tarps, many pieces temporarily removed as the tiny team of Mech Techs tried to mend them back to whole as best as they could. The Crayven Corporation Atlas looked even more skeletal than usual, with all of its face armor removed and inner workings exposed. An eerie blue light flashed behind its "eyes" where somebody was running a welding torch deep inside the cockpit. Off in a far corner, the remains of the Phoenix Hawk LAM stood strapped inside a repair harness, a burlap tarp draped haphazardly over its body, with a sign that said "STRUCTURALLY UNSAFE - DO NOT REPAIR" hung in front of it. The Mech was obviously way too smashed for us to fix underway, and I wondered if there would even be a place back home that could undo what I'd wrought on it.

Home...now there's a funny word.

"Boy, Levi sure is a go getter isn't he?" I asked, pointing at some of the more fruitful repairs happening on Hagakure. "You can bearly tell that Steve tore the shit out of that Dragon back on the planet. It looks like he even got the blood and barf stains out."

"Uh huh." Maxwell replied, leaning with his arms and one boot propped against the railing, staring longingly at an unlit cigar. "You done changing the subject yet?"

"Yes sir, sorry." I answered, bringing myself back on track. "So, first of all, I wanted to thank you for all of the opportunities you gave me on this mission. It was really great to be able to work with you and your team. I know you didn't have to do it and it means a lot to me that you did. Especially given that I'm a liability, on paper anyway."

Maxwell looked over at me with a serious expression. "I didn't give you anything. If you got to do anything on this mission, it's because you earned it."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Not to sound ungreatful, but from my recollection, it was mostly "OK, Nick saddle up" when we got to Oberon, and we've been going ever since."

Maxwell looked off into the bay. "You laid the foundation for that by the way you proved your intentions with Nikki. Showing up and doing a consistent job with excellence over the last six months. Never missing a day and taking on even some of the worst jobs without complaint. Going above and beyond."

"Yeah, I hope I never have to fish another 12 Loko can out of the back end of a toilet trap that has Steve's aftermath of chef's 9-alarm chili cheese dog beany surprise up to the brim." I replied, shuddering at the memory. "That was the worst. It was like somebody took a gallon of beef stew, mixed it up with burrito filling, and........"

"I get the picture." Charles winced. "Anyway. I didn't want to see the talent you bring go to waste, and by the time we got to Oberon I felt that you could bring something to our roster unique and critical to our operation. Something that would bring about a better outcome that if you weren't there. After getting Nikki's endorsement, the rest was, as they say, history."

"Wait a minute, Nikki recommended me?" I asked. I could hardly believe it.

"Yeah. She said your elevator repair jobs could use some work, but overall, she likes you." Captain Maxwell laughed. "So, does that make you feel better? Was this a "meaning of life" kind of soul searching?"

"It was definitely that for sure, but there's a little more to it." I hesitated.

"OK. I don't bite, go on." Charles answered. At that moment, a loud crash could be heard down in the bay, along with somebody yelling. "Um, let's wait for that to finish." the Captain added. A couple seconds later, we heard Levi.

"Steve, next time you want to borrow my arc welder, can you please ask or at least disconnect it before you try to walk away from the tool cart with it? Now we gotta figure out where all these screws go again."

"Sorry buddy, I just needed to use it for my wrestling costume, I wasn't even gonna leave the bay, I was going to do it over there!" Steve replied.

"Oh my god, by the fuel cells...?" Levi replied. "That's even worse."

"I don't want to know. Please continue." Charles prompted me.

"Right, so, um, I want you to know that I really appreciate all of these opportunities. I do. And maybe I haven't earned the right to ask this of you yet, and so I apologize if its out of line, but...I kind of need to know what it is that I'm doing next with my life.....such as it is. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't give up the opportunities I've had with Aegis Division for anything, but.......well......all of my jobs have sort have been ad-hoc in addition to my full time maintenance gig with Nikki, and its really hard to juggle sometimes, or even tell her what my commitments are to you versus to her. And a lot of what I do for you guys is super risky stuff. I know you're giving me a stipend, and I appreciate that, but I - "

"You want job security." Charles responded. "In both a literal and professional sense. And predictability. And a work life balance."

"Yeah, that's.......pretty much it. Am I overstepping asking for that? I totally get it if....."

"Nope." The Captain said. "It's a completely reasonable expectation. So, I'm not going to presume to know what kind of arrangement you're looking for to fulfill that need."

"I was hoping you might be open to bringing me on as a member of your crew. I wouldn't even ask for full share." I began. .Charles laughed.

"Well, that's good, because most people don't come on full share. You work your way up to that."

"And I get that." I said.

"Well, what about Nikki? Where does that leave her? Why would you want to quit a ship that's going to fly itself apart if you ever leave it?" Charles asked.

"It's not that bad anymore." I laughed. "I fixed her up pretty good, and that's actually part of the problem, sometimes I feel like Nikki's giving me busy work. I may be a little bit of extra headcount, and to be honest, I really don't want plumber to continue to be a part of my resume. There are other people who dream of that job, and it would be unfair of me to deny them of it." The Captain let out a genuine laugh at my joke.

"Look, I think you make a compelling case." Captain Maxwell said. "But I don't run a dictatorship. I gotta weigh the pros and cons and then let my senior staff do the same, just like any other applicant. One big hurdle that we're facing is that you're running a fake identity, and that could cause us some issues with employers that want to background the people we're bringing on an operation. That's not a no, it's just something to consider."

"There are ways around that....." I began.

"I know, I know." Maxwell answered. "And I have a lot of respet for you coming to the table like this and laying your cards out. It's an intimidating thing to do. That's points in your favor. I'm happy to give your request all due consideration."

"Thank you, that's all I'm asking for. I'm greatful." I said. Maxwell reached out and shook my hand.

"Good man. You bring a lot of value to the organization, and we really are indebted to you. I'm glad we had this talk."

"Me too." I replied. I had set my sails. Now, it was time to see where the wind would take me.

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C.V. Hurry Up Bessie, Mule-class Dropship
Twycross III orbit
Twycross - Lyran Commonwealth
December 10, 3029

_______________________________________________

The parched landscape of Twycross III rolled past beneath us, a blistered, fractured expanse of mottled brown and orange hues. Large, umber-tinted clouds - sandstorms hundreds of kilometers wide - swirled across its face, blotting out vast tracts of the barren expanses below where a quarter of a billion colonists resided. Azure rivulets of greenish-tinged water wound and twisted their way across the continent, making the journey from the inland sea of Doken toward the Great Gash in the Windbreak mountains. As we crossed over the Plain of Curtains, an enormous, angry red cyclone came into view. The raging, tempestuous, whirling funnel of dust and debris was known as the Diabolis, a permanent sandstorm that wrought endless destruction with its 350 kilometer-per-hour winds.

"Why do we always end up in the desert?" Bishop Weyland grumbled as the ferocious maelstrom overtook the viewscreen. "Just once, just once, I'd like to go blow shit up on a tropical paradise planet. Someplace with a nice beach and a conveniently-located Tiki bar."

"Well, I heard that the spaceport at Camora has an indoor ski slope," Nikki chuckled, punching a couple of buttons on the arm of her command chair. A wireframe approach path appeared as an overlay on the viewer, with flashing animated arrows indicating our landing trajectory. "And I believe there's a Polynesian bar on the main concourse."

"I don't suppose that thing is pointing toward Camora?" Bishop asked, gesturing at the homing device I held in my hands.

"Decidedly not, unfortunately," I replied. "We're getting the same track we've been following for the last day - a few kilometers outside of Haven, just like we thought."

"Damn," Weyland sighed. "Guess I'll go get my sand fatigues out. Again."

"Sorry about that, Bishop," Orlex quipped, eliciting a frustrated growl from the Lieutenant as he stomped off the bridge. As he departed, Octavia stepped up alongside me, watching the main screen as wind-carved rocks and baked slabs of coppery clay passed beneath us.

"Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job, Captain Harlow," the Baroness began, "but have we given any thought to our cover story? I don't think I need to explain that the unscheduled landing of an enormous Mule at the single berth in this backwater town is going to be something of a spectacle. Are we just going to knock?"

Nikki pivoted in the captain's chair to face Incendio.

"I've got this handled," Harlow responded. "The cover story is that we've lost half of our reaction control thrusters and need a place to set down so we can get them back online. Our engineer thinks it's an annoying but simple repair that should only take a day or two. Definitely a fix to be done on the ground. Not safe to try to maintain an orbit without them."

"Hmph. Creative, so long as they don't actually insist on helping us," the Baroness replied. "And the reason we'll be unloading a tank and an APC is...?"

"Training exercise," I offered. "We've been overhauling the Goblin and want to run some maneuvers outside of town to test systems that we can't operate onboard a spacecraft."

"You certainly seem to have thought of everything," Octavia acknowledged. "Let's just hope we don't get scrutinized too closely."

"Well, that's where Chase comes in," I added, gesturing toward the far corner of the bridge, where Alyssa was busy improvising a Command Information Center for the operation. "While they're watching us, she'll be watching them."

"Trying to, anyway," Alyssa replied. "Subject to how cooperative the weather and the local telecommunications infrastructure wants to be."

"If nothing else, when the bullets start flying, we'll be able to run faster," Nicholas Schuster joked, raising his head up from a pit at the front of the bridge where he'd been performing a repair job. "I heard that the gravity is a little less than on Terra."

"That also means that my martial arts will be better!" Jenkins exclaimed, turning around in his seat and beaming at the gathered crew.

"Thank Blake for small blessings," Nikki deadpanned. "Gretchen, go ahead and get the Haven spaceport on the horn."

"Aye, Captain," the officer replied. "Channel open."

"Plutus Docks, this is MV Hurry Up Bessie, we have a pan-pan situation and need safe harbor, over," Harlow began. Following a long hiss of static, we received a gravelly, ornery-sounding response.

"Plutus Docks to Bessie, you're not on my schedule," a man replied, his tone clouded with irritation. "It's highly irregular for unscheduled ships to put in at my pad. Why aren't you landing at Hawkroost?"

"Because," Nikki explained, "Graf Lehmann-Möller really doesn't like unscheduled ships with half their maneuvering thrusters offline crashing into the Duke of Trell's capital city. There's too much urban sprawl for us to effect a safe landing there. Your port doesn't have that problem."

Several metallic clanks and the sound of a chair being pushed across a hard surface met Nikki's reply. Eventually, the man spoke again.

"Alright, you can bring her down. But there's a fee. And I haven't swept the pad. Don't need to do that for another 18 days."

"Your hospitality is appreciated," Harlow answered. "We'll see you shortly."

Cutting the channel, the Captain looked toward me.

"Nicely done," I remarked.

"Thank you," Nikki replied with a grin. "Not my first rodeo. Helm, take us down!"

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Twycross - Lyran Commonwealth
December 10, 3029

 

Damn storms. There was no point in shaking out the sand - it constantly found its way back into the nooks and crannies of clothing fabric. Once I was off this planet I was going to shower for at least two hours until every particle of grit was gone. 

 

The same benefit I gained from being able to hide my face made my patrol for information more difficult. Only eyes and the occasional nose poked out from the crowds.  Conversations were muffled, limiting that avenue as well.


Hours went by with nothing.  No gossip overheard from the crowds in the street.   No news reports.  Grumbling under my breath,  I ducked into a bar,  and plopped down on a barstool to drown my sorrows in a beer. A tall figure came in,  and looked around cautiously before heading to a bar patron to whisper in their ear.

 

I perked up, watching them closely.  That looked promising.  Hopefully it wasn't another trafficking ring, or drug cartel. Both a waste of my time at the moment.  The dim lighting of the bar lamps cast most of their faces in shadow as they huddled together.  Yuuuup. Definitely conspiring something. 

 

As they headed out,  I slipped out behind them - for the best,  really.  I didn't have the coin for beer - and stalked the two down the streets as they walked, hiding behind building corners to keep hidden.  Twists and turns doubled in on themselves as we kept moving,  down the streets until we reached a surface exit. How far into the desert were these two going? More importantly,  how would I keep out of sight?

 

I nearly lost them twice with how far back I needed to stay,  but I narrowly managed to keep up enough to see my two new friends meet up with a small group.  Thank gods they were near rock outcroppings that I could hide behind. 

 

"You brought the explosives?" The speaker's voice rumbled in an accented baritone.  This far out,  they didn't seem to care about volume. 

 

"Yes."

 

"Good.  That should keep them off our backs.  The package?"

 

A new voice piped up.  "Western warehouse. Normal spot."

 

Damn. Couldn't they be more like the Trids and drop coordinates, or drop a map? How the hell was I going to find---

 

A loud roar overhead interrupted as a ship flew overhead.  That... huh. That was unexpected. But, I wasn't one to complain when Lady Luck was giving me a sign.  Steal the goods, sneak on the ship. Flawless plan. 

 

Now I just had to wait for these bastards to head back to town so they didn't catch me eavesdropping.

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C.V. Hurry Up Bessie, Mule-class Dropship
On approach to Haven
Twycross - Lyran Commonwealth
December 10, 3029
_______________________________________________

I had left the bridge shortly after the exchange between Captain Harlow and the Plutus Docks, in which she expertly talked us into getting approval for an unscheduled landing, and made my way down to the main cargo bay to collect the rest of my gear before we landed. A spheroid dropship more or less falling through the skies was generally not something one would want to walk around in but I wanted to be ready to go the moment we landed and Nikki and her crew were doing a commendable job piloting what amounted to a flying rock, especially given that half of our reaction thrusters were "offline" and they were playing the part fully. As if on cue the Bessie lurched sideways as the ship attempted to adjust for sudden changes in atmospheric wind with a thruster that was currently non-functional, the tilt sent me careening into a wall in the corridor despite my best efforts but I kept my feet even as the ship righted itself with a different thruster. On the plus side the two Captains had come up with their plan and cover stories BEFORE we entered atmosphere so the crew had had time to secure everything big enough to cause a problem in the cargo bays. Upon reaching the entrance to the main bay I hit the door open controls and the hydraulic door slid open with only the slightest of pauses in the middle, a far cry from the jittering and seizing it was doing prior to some of Schuster's tender ministrations. Nikki was surely going to miss him, assuming Captain Maxwell decided to take him up on his offer, I was still a bit surprised that Charles had asked my opinion on the matter, often mercenary Captain's would make those decisions themselves or leave it with their HR department if they were big enough for something like that. Nevertheless I had given the Captain my honest opinion, I couldn't judge the man on his past since I wasn't there to experience it myself, but everything I had seen meant Schuster would make a valuable and capable member of the team. Another shudder ran through the ship's deck, with no wall to catch me this time I stumbled sideways in the open cargo bay until the shudder stopped and I was able to catch my footing, all thoughts of Nick's request to join Aegis had left my mind and I moved as quickly as I could to retrieve my gear from one of the secured lockers near the main cargo door. As I retrieved my weapons and a heavy looking leather duster I recalled a few days prior when I had been selecting my gear in the armoury and been accosted by both Bishop and Alyssa.

Previously...

I was standing before one of the worktables in the middle of the armoury with a large selection of weapons laid out before me, everything from a pistol-grip "sawed-off" pump-action shotgun to a M&G fletchette rifle (or needler) and a man-portable flamer to a Thor Light Support Machine Gun with a sprinkling of various sidearms mixed in for good measure. Several of the choices were easy to make, the Flamer for instance was of limited value in the open desert and its encumbering nature ruled it out for a mission where speed was of utmost importance. The new KTS shotgun on the other hand was an intriguing and rather impressive dual magazine bull-pup design that offered the benefits of a full sized shotgun but in a compact package that rivalled a "sawed-off" for size but I had never seen actual combat with it yet. The fletchette rifle was another promising option but its limited range and almost non-existent armour penetration were worrisome even on this backwater planet. The sidearms at least were straight forward,  my Serrek 7875D Auto-Pistol would accompany me as usual, along with spare mags including 1 clip of incendiary rounds, and as a trial run/backup to my backup I would be bringing a Wolf M30T pistol borrowed from Bishop's extensive armoury. The Wolf M30T was a reliable and common sidearm from the Free Worlds League, and one which Bishop had personally vouched for, chambered in a standard 0.45 ACP round the pistol packed a punch that was lacking in my Serrek's 9mm round.

As I stood there debating in my head about the pros and cons of the various long guns I had laid out before me Bishop entered the armoury and immediately took an interest in the assortment of weapons I'd laid out.

"Quite the selection there Jaeger, hope you aren't planning to carry them all into combat, not sure if the planet could survive," joked Bishop as he looked over the display.

"Well I was curious just how many I could fit inside here," I laughed, indicating the large leather duster that I was currently wearing, having selected it as part of my attire for our upcoming dash and grab on the desert planet.

"I'm pretty sure those harness points are meant for grenades and ammo, maybe a sidearm, not a complete arsenal," chuckled Bishop, referring to the built in harness hidden within the leather overcoat with relatively universal attachment points.

"Only one way to find out," I quipped and started connecting various weapons to the internal harness.

The bull-pup KTS shotgun was shortly joined by the M&G fletchette rifle, which stuck out past the bottom of the duster, two different SMGs, a pair of Magnum auto-pistols, and I was just picking up the Thor Light Machine Gun when Alyssa happened to walk into the armoury herself.

"What the hell guys, do I need to supervise you as well now?" asked Alyssa with her hands on her hips, not really upset but not entirely joking either.

"Oh hi Alyssa," I said looking over my shoulder at her, the LMG frozen in my hand with the duster hanging heavily from me, "What brings you here?"

"Orlex what are you doing? If I didn't know any better it looks like you're trying to hide a Blake-damned support machine gun inside your trenchcoat," scolded Chase, the light in her eyes a better indication she was more amused than upset over her voice.

I slowly turned towards her attempting, and failing, to shrug as the now heavy duster moved clunkily and the sound of multiple weapons clinking against each other rang out across the confines of the armoury, the look of a kid with their hand in a cookie jar playing across my face. Chase's eyes went wide as she saw what I had inside the duster before the fletchette rifle's attachment point failed and the weapon fell noisily to the ground.

"Holy Blake! Orlex," gasped Alyssa before she shook her head and face palmed, "I work with a bunch of children, full grown, adult children."

I sheepishly put the LMG back on the table and reached down to pick up the M&G rifle, narrowly managing to catch one of the SMGs as it slid from its holster when I crouched down, "We were just curious."

"Hey now, this was all you buddy, don't go dragging me into it," replied Bishop with his hands up and backing away.

"Ok, so I was curious," I responded, jokingly giving Bishop an evil eye as if he'd thrown me under the bus.

"Right," laughed Chase, "and what did you learn? That you can't carry the entire armoury with you?"

"Well that, and that the harness in this duster is meant for accessories and gear, not full size weapons," I answered.

"I could have told you that Jaeger," said Alyssa with a shake of her head, before waving her hand across the assortment of weapons still scattered across the table, "Please tell me you're not planning on trying to bring all of this, it's a dash and grab guys."

"Blake no," I answered shaking my head and continuing to unload weapons from the duster, "these were just options, to help me decide what I would actually bring."

"Good, you legit had me worried there for a second. I've got my hands full enough trying to deal with Charles, I don't need to babysit another gun nut," said Alyssa with a laugh.

"It can't be that bad can it?" I joked, finally finishing unloading all the guns from the leather overcoat.

Chase shot me a knowing look before answering, "You have no idea, have you heard him mention his lost Hawk Eagle? I have, more times than I care to count."

"So you came here, to the armoury, to escape from your fiancée who talks too much about guns?" I asked incredulously, "Just making sure I'm following the same logic here."

"No you idiot," chided Alyssa jovially, "I didn't come here to escape from him, if I was trying to do that I'd have gone to see Nikki or Octavia, not you two knuckleheads. I came here to get my own weapons for the mission, I may be staying onboard the ship and coordinating you dum-dums from the air but I'll be damned if I'm not armed while we're planetside."

"Ok, that makes more sense," I replied with a nod.

"So, Bishop, seeing as how Orlex is busy arming himself to take over a small country and is clearly in the same line of thinking as my future husband," began Alyssa, playfully turning away from me to address Bishop instead, "any suggestions for me as to what I should consider for armaments?"

"Certainly," answered Bishop, jokingly giving me a dismissive turn as well as they moved deeper into the armoury, "provided the Lieutenant here hasn't emptied these shelves as well there should be something sleek and elegant yet still effective right this way."

As Bishop and Alyssa moved away I continued to sort through the assorted weapons, discounting several more as I actually started to consider them seriously, by the time Alyssa and Bishop had returned I had sorted the weapons into two distinct groups, one of which was considerably smaller. The KTS shotgun was in the smaller group, along with my two sidearms and a Gunther MP-20 SMG, as well as a series of grenades and associated spare ammo clips. Alyssa left, having found a gun suitable for what she was looking for, and Bishop went an opened a locked cabinet containing some of his personal weapons that were currently stored in the armoury, one of which instantly stood out and caught my attention.

"Hey Bishop, is that a Star King?" I asked, the Star King was a relatively rare bull-pup gyroslug carbine widely considered one of the best on the market.

"This?" asked Bishop, indicating the weapon I meant, "Not quite, its an Andurien knock-off made by Grumman Amalgamated, called the GA King Slayer."

"King Slayer huh? Sounds like they're pretty confident," I chuckled.

"In this case, it's warranted. The King Slayer is a little heavier than the Star King but it maintains the same firepower, range, and accuracy while having a lighter magazine which means the overall weight is actually slightly less. The weapon is easily switched from right side ejection to left so it is truly ambidextrous as all controls are replicated on both sides. Like any gyrojet weapon it is silent in operation, compared to traditional firearms, and has virtually no recoil as well as having no damage fall off thanks to the self propelled ammunition and explosive tipped rounds."

Present Day...

With all my gear collected and now worn I looked, and felt, like a strange cross between Ancient Terra's Wild West, the Inner Sphere's Terran Exoduses era, and a modern day marine prepped for desert combat. At the base layer I had on a heat suit, an all black, full-body, skin-tight suit with built in coolant and moisture retention systems that were powered by my own physical movements. The filter mask and googles were currently removed and stored in a pouch on my hip since they were primarily in case we encountered an actual sandstorm, of which the likelihood was considerably higher than I would like. On top of that I wore a pair desert camo pattern cargo fatigues, a lightweight, breathable set of pants that afforded additional pockets for storage without adding much weight or bulk themselves. On the upper body I had just a standard flak vest on, the olive drab coloured flexible bulletproof vest had lightweight ferrosteel plates built into it and provided excellent protection against ballistics and moderate protection from explosions, while its inherent weakness to energy weapons was less of a concern on a backwater world covered in dust and storms. On top of all that I wore a deceptively heavy looking synthleather duster, an oversized jacket that hung down past my knees and had an additional layer of leather across the shoulders, the surprisingly comfortable overcoat was loose fitting and designed to protect the rest of my gear from the worst of the dust and sand. The duster was a mottled slate gray and had the equivalent of a load bearing vest built into the interior of the jacket providing mounting points for various lightweight gear and equipment. My advanced combat helmet hung at my side while a humidifier mask was slung loosely around my neck ready to slide into place should I desire it. Finally on my head sat a wide-brimmed leather hat reminiscent of an Akubra traveller hat, once a popular style in Ancient Terra's Australian Outback.

The weapons I had finally decided on included a variety of class 'B' mini grenades and a few class 'C' standard grenades, attached and stored at various points on the flak vest and inside the duster itself, along with my regular Serrek 7875D auto-pistol stored in my standard hip holster. In an underarm holster I had the Wolf M30T 0.45cal pistol, with 5 spare clips of ammunition for both sidearms, each with a single magazine of incendiary ammunition. For my primary weapon I had managed to talk Bishop into letting me borrow the GA King Slayer gyroslug carbine, a feat I believe I only accomplished because he was "stuck" driving our tank. The bull-pup rifle, was hanging from its sling across my shoulders and was able to be easily carried at my side, protected by the duster, or in front with quick and easy access should we run into trouble. It's large, heavy magazines containing 20 self-propelled, explosive rounds were secured to my belt as that was the only feasible place to carry them. As an added precaution, and in no small part due to my desire to test it out, I also carried the KTS bull-pup shotgun on my person, it's compact design allowing it to be stored with relative ease on the small of my back, underneath the duster, hanging from the back of the flak vest itself. It's location and attachment didn't provide quick access but I could still withdraw it reasonably well even if it took a bit longer. The weapon itself had a rather unique magazine system, instead of the traditional single tube magazine located underneath the shotgun's barrel the KTS had two 6 round tube magazines side by side underneath the barrel, giving the weapon a triangular appearance, with a selector switch to pick which magazine is used at any given moment. This design allowed me to load the weapon with both standard 00 buckshot and saboted slug rounds at the same time and enabled me to choose which shell to use at any given moment. An ammo holder on the stock and a bandolier across my body held multiple spare rounds of ammunition for both the buckshot and slug shells, each identified by the shell casing colour, red and black respectively. Finally, even though I had no intention of using it, the laser in my prosthetic arm was charged and ready with a spare set of high capacity micro power packs available should I need them. The heat suit prevented opening my prosthetic arm to allow rapid fire use of the internal laser, while also preventing access to the hidden storage compartment in my right leg, but the extra cooling provided by the heat suit meant I should be able to use the integral laser close to normal should I need to.

To round out my kit, and help cover us in the semi-unlikely event we get caught out in the elements for an extended period, I had a rucksack containing my basic field kit, electronic compass, flares, and emergency rations as well as a fully stocked advanced medkit that I was going to bring in the Goblin, along with a solar recharger, rangefinder binoculars, noteputer, medipack and military comm stored elsewhere in the duster and my gear. Was it all overkill, most likely, but I had a tendency to be overprepared and it had served me well enough in the past to continue doing so now. As the dropship began it's final approach to the Plutus Docks I hunkered down in one of the cargo bay's jump seats, the rear slit in the duster allowing me to sit comfortably enough despite the extra gear I was currently carrying. A few minutes later I felt the sudden thump of the ship touching down, as gracefully as an 11,200 ton cargo ship with "bad" thrusters could, and then heard the powerful fusion drive engines begin their slow wind-down as the Hurry Up Bessie settled into her new berth.
 

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Twycross III Space, Lyran Commonwealth

December 10, 3029

___________________________________

 

 

I grunted and shoved the bar up from my chest for the final rep. My arms shook, and a thick coating of lifting chalk was the only thing keeping the bar from slipping from my sweaty hands. Nearly three hundred kilograms slowly rose into the air. I put all my strength into one final push, and locked my arms under the bar. Slowly, the bar continued to rise, and I felt my sweaty back unstick from the vinyl covered bench as I rose with it. “What in the farting fuck?”

 

“Language, boy, language!”

 

“Sorry, Ba Ba,” I grumbled. “But seriously, where’d the gravity go? My weight’s all out of heavy!”

 

“I got you a gig,” Ba Ba said with a twinkle in her eye. “Mortal Gymnastics needs a fighter for an exhibition match back on the planet. It’s the day after tomorrow. Modified d’juulu rules, bring your own traps, and a Mortal Gymnastics Solaris 7 black belt for your trophy case when you win. Oh, and you’d best put that weight back down, or it’ll squish you like a roach once the ship turns around.” Ba Ba made a pinching gesture with her wrinkled, veiny hand to make her point.

 

“Where, on sandy slum planet? The royalties will be peanuts down there. Their food carts don’t even sell peanuts, they can only afford stale q-nuts!” I lowered the barbell into its’ catches, slid back and sat up and leaned on it.

 

“It’s the best gig you’ll get with one jump’s worth of cash and a half-broken ship,” Ba Ba said. “The Mortal rep thinks you’ll have a full house, too - it’s not often these folks get to see a black belt match. Maybe I can even trade some of our free tickets for a discount on the rest of our exhaust repair.”

 

“Fiiiiiiiine.” I ducked out from under the bar and toweled off. “Can you make my recovery shake a double? I’ve gotta be in top shape for tomorrow. I don’t want the only black belt match those poor sand slum kids ever see to be a lame one.” I tossed the sweaty towel to the side. It hung in the air for a moment, and then slowly dropped into the hamper as the ship picked up speed.

 

“Of course, Billy. Would you like a chocolate chip protein cookie, too? They’re fresh from the oven!”

Edited by Bill the Beast
changed the date from Dec 10 to Dec 9 so I can post the next day's trip into town on the 10th
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Plutus Docks - Haven colony
Twycross - Lyran Commonwealth
December 10, 3029

_______________________________________________

A cold, dusty wind roared into the depths of Cargo Bay One as the ship's massive door rumbled aside, revealing the skyline of the Haven colony - a jumble of dark, angular silhouettes with a smattering of dimly-lit windows, contrasted against the deep indigo of the desert's twilight sky. I shivered, pulling the heavy brown fabric of my longcoat closed and popping its collar, the smell of woodsmoke making my senses tingle as I descended the Hurry Up Bessie's cargo ramp onto the sand-covered landing pad.

"I forgot how cold the desert gets at night," I remarked, gazing up at the starry evening expanse, noting the stark absence of aircraft typical of most spaceports. Lieutenant Jaeger nodded, pulling on a pair of gloves while Captain Harlow pulled on a sharp-looking woolen cap.

"This place is a ghost town, too," Orlex added, glancing around at the deserted expanse of Plutus Docks. "I hope it's at least got a minimal amount of security."

"I told James to sit on a bench inside the cargo bay with a laser rifle," Nikki replied. "He can't shoot to save his life, but at least there's a chance he'll scare off any intruders with his wildly haphazard aim."

"I'm all for small victories when we can score them," I answered, stepping over several large chunks of broken ferrocrete as we made our way across the deserted tarmac toward the dockmaster's office. The Hurry Up Bessie was the only vessel on the pad, looking even larger than it usually did in the absence of other craft, utility vehicles, or personnel. Scattered throughout the landing zone were the remains of various decrepit support vehicles that had once serviced the port. A fuel truck, bereft of wheels, lay corroded and useless on a nearby siding, while a cargo transporter had apparently been abandoned in place and stripped of its parts in an area marked "Small Craft Staging." Further away, the dilapidated skeleton of what had, long ago, been a hangar building now sat corroding away, its loose beams and neglected roof materials clattering in the wind.

The dockmaster's office itself was a pathetic affair - a single-level shack, built out of a patchwork of various salvaged metals and starship components, bearing a hand-pointed sign on its facade that read "PLUTUS DOCKS ADMINISTRATION: ALL VISITORS MUST REPORT." A smaller placard beneath the sign read, "NO TRESPASSING - SOLICITORS WILL BE RIDDEN OUT OF TOWN ON A RAIL."

"That's an oddly-specific threat," I mused, gesturing at the smaller sign. "Creative, though."

"Speaking of creative, would you look at that!" Lieutenant Jaeger exclaimed, pointing skyward toward the only structure taller than the dockmaster's office itself. Rising from just beyond the perimeter of the spaceport was a tall tower half-covered by a large tarp and bedecked haphazardly with several strings of incandescent lights. As we drew nearer to it, I realized that the 'tower' was in fact a Stinger BattleMech, long ago repurposed from a war machine and now serving as a power source for an eclectic marketplace that had formed at its feet.

FB_IMG_1629145023457.thumb.jpg.3147ce789c1f1b41b60e778169b1cb07.jpg

The ancient machine looked like an ancient soldier standing eternal watch over the bazaars, food stands, and games of chance as gregarious voices and the tinny sounds of concertina music echoed off of its rusted frame. A faint, flickering light twinkled from its cockpit - someone was burning a candle.

"That is creative," I agreed as Nikki held up her comm unit to take a picture.

"No one's going to believe me otherwise," Captain Harlow chuckled, pressing the shutter and saving the image.

"Send me a copy of that, will ya?" I asked. Nikki nodded and slipped the phone back in her pocket as we reached the administrative office. Lieutenant Jaeger, slightly ahead of us, pulled on the handle of the building's screen door, only to realize that it was locked.

"Well, so much for a warm welcome. You'd think a harbormaster would at least step outside to mind his facilities while a supposedly out-of-control ship is trying to make port," I observed.

"Should I hit the buzzer?" Orlex asked, looking back toward me.

"Might as well," I replied, "though I'm pretty certain he knows we're here already."

Jaeger pressed a small, glowing button to the right of the door frame. A raspy, mechanical clanging sounded off from deep within the shack, followed shortly thereafter by a crash of furniture and the sound of booted feet thunking toward us. A moment later, the inner door to the shack was thrown open, and a short, balding, rotund man with an unkempt beard and wild hair stood before us.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"We're from the Hurry Up Bessie," Harlow explained. "The ship that called ahead for an emergency landing?"

"Yeah. I know," the harbormaster replied in a thick brogue, craning his neck to look past us at our vessel. "What in Blake's name is all that shite your people are unloadin'? You're only here for a day or two."

I cast a look back toward the landing pad, seeing the marker lights of our Goblin tank and Hover APC descending the cargo ramp.

"We had to get some assets out of the way so that Captain Harlow's team can work on the thruster problem," I bluffed. "In the mean time, our crew is going to run some maneuvers out in the desert. We've been in space for quite a while, and now seems like a good time to stretch our legs and break in the gear."

"Yeah, well, I don't care what you do so long as you pay the port fee and you're out of here in two days. Ship like yours is going to attract attention," the man answered.

"How much do we owe you?" Nikki asked.

"Twenty-five thousand C-Bills. Cash or charge," the harbormaster replied.

"Twenty-five thousand C-Bills? That's half the cost of the JumpShip fare from Maxie's Planet to here! You don't even have maintenance facilities!" Captain Harlow exclaimed.

"You don't like it? You can get off my pad or I can impound your vessel. Beggars can't be choosers, Missy," the rotund fellow proclaimed. Nikki glared at me. I reluctantly withdrew my credit tube and passed it over to the dockmaster, who unlatched the screen door just long enough to snatch it away from me and insert it into a point of sale machine. A few minutes later, Captain Harlow had signed the requisite paperwork, and we were on our way back to the Hurry Up Bessie.

"Not the warmest welcoming committee, to be certain," I quipped. "Jaeger, let's try to get rolling as soon as possible. If he's any indication of what the locals are like around here, the more we can get done under the cover of darkness, the better. I'm going aboard the Goblin to spin up the homing navigation now. One less thing we'll need to do."

"Aye, Captain, I'll see if I can round up Bishop and the others and meet you there shortly," the Lieutenant nodded.

"I'll mind the store," Nikki added. "The last thing we need is anyone else ripping us off."

"Agreed. At the first sign of trouble, have Chase get us on the horn."

At that, the three of us parted ways to set the covert recovery in motion.

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Plutus Docks - Haven colony
Twycross - Lyran Commonwealth
December 10, 3029
_______________________________________________

The inside of the Goblin tank was old, musty, and smelled kind of like feet. I winced as I slowly laid my head down against the dirty floor as I sat inverted underneath the driver's console with my head underneath the dashboard and my boots sticking up on either side of the control chair's headrest so that I could wire in the hardware that would give us an uplink to the tracking system on the Hurry Up Bessie and hopefully help us map our way to the cargo container that was somewhere out in the desert. I started working faster with the ancient wires as I heard muffled conversations outside, the deep gravelly voice of Bishop and the crisp Canadian accented voice of Captain Maxwell, we weren't going to be on station much longer and the hardware had to be ready. I didn't know whose tank this was, whether it was Crayven's or the property of Aegis Division, but it had definitely seen better days. A bunch of the wires were dry rotted out and there was evidence that some mice had been living in part of the dashboard for a while. Several of the electrical systems had been bound together with tape and there were a few wires that were just dangling loose. I didn't know what they all did since I hadn't known I was going to be a tank technician until this morning when someone suggested the possibility of tying Maxwell's homebrew homing device into the tank's onboard navigation system. I wasn't sure how well that was going to work, tanks and consumer-grade homing beacons didn't usually speak the same language, and this tank was definitely old enough that the spaghetti code I had thrown together to make Charles' device work was almost surely not directly compatible. So now I was wiring up a node that was basically an emulator intended to take modern programming language and make it speak a hacky version of Star League basic, it wouldn't be pretty but it would at least give Bishop some information he could follow on the HUD.

I heard the tank's overhead hatch creek open and a loud BANG startled me and made me smash my head on the bottom of the dashboard.

"OW!" I shouted at the very heavy figure who didn't bother to climb down the ladder but rather jumped down it straight into the tank.

"What's your problem?" the voice growled. It was Bishop himself.

"Sorry, Lieutenant, just gave myself a dashboard tattoo here. Wasn't expecting a bag full of guns to drop in unannounced." I answered, rubbing my forehead and going back to wiring in the module with a soldering iron.

"No big deal." said Bishop, moving his huge frame forward in the tank. "You got gum on the bottom of your boot, by the way."

"Probably Steve's, he parks it in the weirdest places." I said, trying to shift my feet around on the pilot's chair to keep from getting it messed up. "You seen him by the way?"

"Yeah, he left the ship a little while ago, said he wanted to get down to the venue early, wherever that is." Weyland sat down in the co-pilot's chair and started pushing buttons. "Some local taxi picked him up, looked like a real piece of crap, driving on two donuts with a busted headlight. On any other planet it would have been a murder van. Hey, speaking of, how come the Check Engine, Armor Breach, Low Fuel, and Airbag lights are on?"

"Ignore them, it's just because I have half the computer's brain pulled out to plug this module in." I replied, wiping sweat off my brow as I worked faster to get the job done. Being inverted wasn't doing me any favors, I was starting to get lightheaded and some vertigo.

"Got it, you gonna have this thing back together soon? We need to roll out pronto." said Bishop, pulling out the operator's manual and running through some checks.

"I think so...?" I said. "What time is it anyway?"

"Uhh...2317 hours local time. We're rolling in 13 mikes." Bishop reported.

"Shit! Alright, give me like ten more minutes. It's not going to be a pretty job, but it'll work."

The hatch clanked again and I heard another person come down the ladder.

"Need this?" a voice asked. The next thing I knew, a small electronic plotter with a series of buttons on it and an electronic map with homing data on it was being held in front of me. It was Captain Maxwell.

"Thank you sir, yes, your timing is good, I was just about to come looking for that. I'll get it hooked up."

"Don't mention it. Hey, you know you've got bubblegum on your boot?" Charles asked.

"Yeah, Bishop mentioned it, thanks, I'll try not to mess up the upholstry." I answered.

I heard Charles chuckle and take a seat. Over the course of the next few minutes, I finished patching in the homing device as Levi, Orlex, and Octavia came aboard. Eventually, I pulled myself back up to my feet, trying not to black out as I did so.

"OK Lieutentant Weyland, give it a shot." I said. Bishop gave me a suspicious stare and took the plotter, then threw a few toggles on the control panel. After a short smell of burning ozone wafted from under the dashboard, a pixelated homing track winked onto the windshield. The image was periodically laden with static and cut out from time to time, but at least it worked.

"Alright, I guess we've got our route." said Bishop. "As long as we don't get shot at or catch any weather, it'll probably be a pretty smooth ride. You people ready to go?"

Edited by Nicholas Schuster
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Haven, Twycross III, Lyran Commonwealth

December 11, 3029

___________________________________

 

Ba Ba negotiated with the maintenance crew at the spaceport for an hour or so until they agreed to accept tickets to my match as payment for our repairs. Once that was settled, we headed to the main entrance to get a taxi. A passenger dropship had just landed and the concourse was shoulder-to-shoulder people, but most were happy to clear the way for a famous MMA fighter carrying his Ba Ba’s two big suitcases. There were a few oblivious assholes with headphones on or their noses in books, but they moved quick when Ba Ba whacked them in the shins with her bamboo cane.

 

I didn’t have a free hand to flag down a taxi, but luckily there was one parked right outside the spaceport’s front door. It even had its’ trunk already open for our bags. I cleared my throat and glared at the guy who was fiddling around with a stroller behind the trunk for no reason, and he and the baby-carrying lady he was with speed-walked back to the sidewalk and out of our way. I put Ba Ba’s bags and my backpack in the trunk and slammed it closed. I opened the passenger side door for Ba Ba, and then went around to the driver’s side and sat down in the back seat. The car went lopsided under my weight. The fake leather seats had cracks in them with stuffing poking out and it smelled like dust and stale cigarettes.

 

“Umm, hello there, where to?” the taxi driver said.

 

“I’m here to knock some teeth at the Dust-Up Dome,” I said.

 

“That’ll be twelve fifty, sir” the driver said.

 

“Eight fifty,” said Ba Ba.

 

“I’m sorry m’am, twelve fifty is the standard fare for all downtown destinations.”

 

I pounded my fist on the center console and grunted in frustration. His rudeness to my Ba Ba made me mad.

 

“You know what, for you fine folks I’ll make it a special discount, eight fifty for a trip to the Dust-Up Dome.”

 

The road into town from the spaceport was crummy and busted up, with potholes, patches and bumps all over the place. The old springs in the taxi’s seats squeaked whenever it went over a bump. There was nothing to see out the windows but dust, dirt, distant factories and hovels made of sheet metal and tarps.

 

As we got closer the shanty towns got thicker, and traffic got thicker too. We got stuck behind a big slow truck, and the taxi couldn’t go around it because there were sheet metal shacks right up next to the road. The drive was taking forever.

 

Ba Ba looked in her purse and said, “oh, shoot.”

 

“What’s wrong, Ba Ba?”

 

“It’s past breakfast time, and I forgot my yogurt in the fridge.”

 

“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ll find us some food.”

 

I watched out the window intently, looking for a drive thru. There wasn’t much of anything besides crappy huts and tents here, but everyone wasn’t dead yet, so there had to be someplace to buy food, right?

 

I saw some smoke up ahead, and as we got closer, I realized it was coming from a food cart in a market plaza. Not exactly a proper drive through, but it would have to do.

 

“Hey driver, pull over!”

 

The taxi skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. “Pull over where?” The driver asked. “There is nowhere to turn here.”

 

“The drive thru, you idiot, we’re hungry!” I leaned forward and pointed out the front passenger side window.

 

“I can’t drive there, that’s a walking plaza! It is illegal, and someone might get hurt.”

 

“Then use the horn to move everyone out of the way!”

 

“I’m afraid that would still be illegal, and-” the taxi driver looked in his rearview mirror, and must’ve seen my poor hungry Ba Ba peering out of her cat eye glasses with her brows knitted and her arms crossed. He had a stroke of conscience and changed his mind. “Please hang on, sir and madam, this might get bumpy.”

 

The taxi driver blared the horn, revved the engine, and rammed the taxi across the gutter and into the plaza. The car rolled forward and the driver kept honking as men, women, children, goats, dogs, pigeons and geese fled out of the way. Some guy spilled a wheelbarrow full of cabbages that made crisp crunching noises under the taxi’s tires. An idiot at the extra fresh milkshake stand let the cow get loose and it charged through a shelf full of jelly preserves, knocked over a fish cart and rolled in the ice. I whooped as a panicked chicken bounced off the windshield. Ba Ba grinned and watched the mayhem play out.

 

The taxi pulled up at the burger stand. I cranked my window down and said “I’ll have a-”

 

“He’ll have four breakfast burgers with double eggs and double beef, no cheese no pickles, and an extra large diet soda. And a breakfast scramble with hash browns and an iced caramel latte for me,” Ba Ba said. She’d unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over my lap to talk to the drive thru lady.

 

The drive thru lady blinked. She looked at the car, and down at the griddle cart she was standing behind, and back at us. “Would you like an apple pie with that?”

 

I opened my mouth to say yes, but Ba Ba was faster and said “no, he’ll have Victory! Those pies have too much sugar.” She handed the drive thru lady a fistful of cash.

 

Ba Ba sat back down, and I watched the drive thru lady cook our food on the griddle cart. I heard some shouting in the distance, I looked but I couldn’t see what all the commotion was about. Pretty soon the drive thru lady had finished cooking and handed me a bag with all our food in it. Her hand was shaky and her eyes were all bugged out, I wasn’t sure what her problem was, maybe drugs. The taxi made a bunch of really horrible clunking noises as I gave Ba Ba her breakfast, like it had a really bad engine problem. Then something hard poked me in the back of the head.

 

I whirled around and grabbed the stick that had poked me. There were a bunch of people with sticks all around the car, banging on the roof and trying to poke me through the window. They were shouting mean stuff like “You wrecked our market, what’s wrong with you?” and “Get out of here!” and “Entitled assholes!!!” The driver had his hands on the wheel but he looked all frozen up and spooked.

 

I punched the guy closest to the window and leaned all the way out of it. Then I grabbed the next closest guy by the front of his shirt and threw him at the lady who was yelling into the driver’s window. “Back off!” I hollered. “Next person to touch this car is getting a third butthole!”

 

That distracted the angry people with sticks and shovels and stuff for a few seconds, and they backed away from the car. “Drive, drive!” Ba Ba yelled, and reached past the driver and honked the horn. That woke him up, and he put the car in reverse and slammed on the gas. We zoomed back to the road, knocked over a parked moped, and then the driver shifted into forward and we continued on down the road.

 

Ba Ba unwrapped and ate her hash browns and scramble, and I ate my cheeseless protienful egg burgers. The beef was hard and blackened on the outside and the eggs were rubbery and there wasn’t any salt. I finished the first one and chucked the wrapper up into the front passenger seat.

 

I started in on the next one, and my teeth sank into pure awfulness. “BLEH” I said, and whipped the sour mustard-coated pickle off of my sandwich. It hit the front windshield and stuck there.

 

“Excuse me sir, my boss doesn’t give me time to clean the cab between trips,” the driver said. I grunted. His boss wasn’t my problem, I just wanted to eat my terrible egg burgers.

 

I opened up the sandwich and found two more gross pickles. I threw one and it splatted on the windshield and then fell down onto the dash.

 

“Sir,” the driver said, “I would really, really appreciate it if you would-”

 

I tossed the other pickle. It slid off the air conditioner vent and fell onto the floor. The driver sighed and went back to doing his actual job, driving.

 

Ba Ba and I finished our breakfast, and then I remembered something. Something important.

 

“Hey cabbie,” I said. “Where can a guy buy some decent bear traps around here?”

 

The driver gulped. “Bear traps? Um, what for? There are no bears on Twycross.”

 

“I’m gonna smash some face at the Dome tonight,” I said. “Modified d’juulu rules call for traps, and they’ve got to be big enough to catch a person.”

 

“The Camp n’ Hunt might have what you need,” the driver said. “I could drop you off there instead, it’s not too far from the Dust-Up Dome.”

 

“Yeah, let’s go,” I said. “But wait for us in the parking lot, we’re too busy to wait around for another taxi.”

Edited by Bill the Beast
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C.V. Hurry Up Bessie, Mule-class Dropship
Plutus Docks, Haven
Twycross - Lyran Commonwealth
December 10, 3029 - 23:15 hours
_______________________________________________

When I returned to ship I began tracking down the others, which didn't take very long, Nick was already inside the Goblin working on getting its Nav system to integrate with the homebrewed tracker we had cobbled together to trace the pirate's unorthodox homing beacon. The beacon itself we had expected to be able to pick up and track easily enough with the Bessie's sensors once we got within range of the planet, especially given we now had the encryption key courtesy of Malice, but while we could detect the signal we still couldn't triangulate it's location even after decrypting it. Some clever brainstorming and cannibalization of a noteputer resulted in an effective, if crude, method of tracking the unconventional, encrypted, helically randomized, beacon signal. Bishop on the other hand already had his gear bag in hand and was making his way towards the Goblin as I headed into the ship to track down Levi and Octavia.

Bishop nodded as we past each other and I climbed into the open main cargo hold of the massive Mule-class dropship, as I entered I noted James from Captain Harlowe's original crew was settling in with a well worn executive style chair and semi-sturdy looking fold-up table in the middle of the cargo hold. On the table he had placed a couple decks of cards, a selection of old looking print magazines as well as a tablet style noteputer, a music player and portable tri-vid set with headphones and the aforementioned laser rifle that Nikki had instructed him to guard the ship with. At least he'll be able to guard against boredom, I thought as I passed by with a wave.

Tracking down Levi required a fair bit more hunting around but I finally found him puttering away in one of the 'Mech Bays hastily installed in the cargo hold, conveniently out of sight from the main doors, his pace slowed by his continued use of crutches, on the Doctor's orders, and a crawler for a little added mobility. It looked like he had been welding away on the internals of autocannon which had a small collection of new and old/broken parts strewn about it and he was still wearing one of the mechanic jumpsuits he had taken to wearing while working with the other Techs. I called out to him as I approached and he almost seemed to recoil at the sound of his name, or perhaps it was just unexpected as the rest of the area was empty and likely had been for a while given the current time.

"Hey Levi! Are you ready to go? We need to get to the Goblin ASAP," I asked as Levi seemed to freeze like a deer in headlights.

"Umm, yeah, about that," he began, almost too soft spoken to hear given our distance apart, "Are you sure I'm supposed to be coming?"

"Yes, you were at the briefing with the rest of us, you know you're coming with us," I replied.

"Yeah, I guess," came the self-doubting response from Levi, he seemed unusually nervous about leaving the ship.

"Remember this isn't Oberon, nobody here knows you and none of the gangs you might have been mixed up in have any kind of presence here. Hell, half the people here probably couldn't even tell you where Oberon is," I joked as I came up alongside Levi.

"True," he replied slowly, seeming a bit more confident.

"Besides," I said as I wrapped an arm over his shoulder and gently redirected him away from the 'mech cubicle, "you're on Team Jaeger for this OP, what could possibly go wrong."

"Didn't you guys run into a platoon of Irian commandos last time? I'm pretty sure you ended up taking a .50 cal to the chest and only managed to survive with broken ribs through sheer stubbornness," quipped Levi with a half-smile.

"It wasn't a .50 cal, but touché," I chuckled, removing my arm as I sensed it was hindering the use of his crutches, "Do you have your gear?"

"Yeah, in the bag over there," replied Levi, indicating a gear bag back near the entrance of the 'mech bay we had just left.

"I'll grab it," I said while trotting back to retrieve Levi's stuff, "you got everything?"

"I think so, bolt cutters, laser torch, cutting disk, assorted other tools, some desert survival gear, Thermoman stuff," Levi replied as I caught back up to him, listing things off with his fingers while trying to juggle using the crutches too.

"What about your gun?" I asked, adjusting the shoulder strap of the gear back as I transitioned to a walking pace.

"Oh yeah, that too," he answered almost reluctantly, we had spent some time over the last few weeks teaching Levi the basics of firearm use, primarily just pistols, and while he was a long way from proficient he could at least semi-reliably hit a man-sized target at 10m (33') now. I still wasn't sure if he was just inexperienced with firearms, despite where he seemed to come from, or if he was in some way opposed to their use, but he seemed overly reluctant to wield a gun even at the firing range, though less so there.

Before any further discussion of the topic could be made Octavia's voice echoed across the chamber as she approached and dominated the conversation, "There you are Mr. Jaeger! Finally, I was instructed to meet up with you before we departed and I've spent the last 10 minutes needlessly searching the ship top to bottom looking for you."

"Baroness," I replied, the title seeming to come out of its own accord as though Octavia was dictating what should be said, "I was just on my way to find you next."

"No need," she said dismissively before unceremoniously dumping her gear bag onto my free shoulder as she continued, "Ah good, I see you've made yourself useful."

"I'm not..." I began before she essentially shushed me with her hand in the air.

"Captain Maxwell requires me on the Goblin in 5 minutes, we shouldn't keep him waiting," stated Octavia matter-of-fact, as though I hadn't even spoken.

"We are ALL required on the Goblin in 5 minutes, Baroness," I said, with no small amount of disdain on her title, "it would be faster if we all pulled our own weight, I should think."

Octavia glanced back at me with a quick once over, "You seem to be doing fine, I'll see you on the transport."

"Blake-damned Capellan," I mumbled under my breath, deciding it wasn't worth the fight currently, though still considering leaving her gear on the cargo hold's floor.

Levi glanced over at me with a sympathetic look before we continued on, reaching the tank only a few paces behind Octavia herself, probably exactly as she had planned.

The Goblin tank stood before us, presumably with Charles, Nick, and Bishop already inside, it's back facing us with the rear-mounted infantry bay's main door open and small ramp extended. The squat nature of the tank meant the entrance, and the infantry bay itself, had a rather low ceiling and actually required me to duck every so slightly to fit inside. Once inside the smell of oil and grease, mixed with an unidentifiable musty odour, assaulted my senses and brought back many memories of my time in the Alliance military. The infantry bay was reasonably spacious given it was designed to carry a full support weapon squad in a typical platoon consisting of 7 men in full ballistic plate armour with multiple medium and heavy support weapons, by comparison our 6 man group with no heavy weapons had plenty of space, especially considering at least one of those 6 would be up front driving the tank, and likely 2 or 3 of the 6. At the far end of the infantry bay, facing the front side of the vehicle, there was an even smaller bulkhead door that was currently open and lead into the main cabin of the tank. Up there you could actually stand upright, at least where the turret was, and the turret also provided regular access to the tank's operations via the turret hatch. Through that door in the infantry bay I could make out Bishop, his unmistakable form immediately identifying him, as well as Captain Maxwell and who I assumed was Schuster, though I couldn't see his face from my current position. The Goblin had a somewhat irregular design overall since the infantry bay was installed where the typical engine of conventional tanks would be located, instead the combat vehicle had a pair of gas turbine engines located along the sides of the tank, one to either side of the infantry bay itself. Located above the bay, and the reason the ceiling was so low, were the armoured fuel tanks capable of accepting a variety of fuels to run the turbines with whatever is most readily available. The twin engines could propel the tank at speeds of up to 65km/h (40mph) and its tracked mobility system meant the combat vehicle had little trouble with terrain short of heavy woods or steep mountains. I promptly dropped Octavia's bag on the nearest seat while intentionally waiting for Levi to pick a seat before offering him his bag, Octavia glanced back at the noise but merely shrugged ever so slightly before returning her attention to what was going on in the main cab. I moved to the seat I had selected earlier, with my gear bag already stashed on it, and pulled out my two long guns that I was bringing on the mission, the KTS bull-pup shotgun and GA King Slayer gyroslug carbine. They quickly were mounted in the modular weapon racks, designed to hold both standard infantry and support weapons with a variety of attachment points, and the rest of my gear I stored inside the locker built into the back of the seat itself. Levi was trying to follow suit, struggling a bit to fit his gear bag into the locker before pulling out some of the larger items to store them separately.

"Captain Maxwell," I called up front, not particularly caring if I had interrupted any conversation Octavia might have been having, "everyone is accounted for. We're ready to go when you are Sir."

"Excellent Lieutenant," the Captain called back, bending over slightly to get a clear view into the rear compartment, "we'll be underway shortly, just waiting for confirmation from the APC."

Nearly 2 hours later...     - December 11, 3029 - 01:13 hours

The Goblin's twin turbine engines roared as the tank powered its way over a shifting sand dune, the engine's fury greatly stifled by the considerable sound-proofing and insulation surrounding both the main cabin and the infantry bay. The storm had come up suddenly, even more so than anticipated and we had known what we were facing as Alyssa fed us constant updates, the initial blast of the storm, and it was indeed a blast, had sent the hover APC careening off course, though their driver was able to regain control quickly and returned to our tank's side. The sky lit up with an unworldly violet hue, streaks of ochre-tinted lightning splayed across the ghostly sky while the planet's solitary moon illuminated the night sky. Clouds, or at least what appeared to be clouds but could very well have just been large amounts of dust in the air, quickly filled the sky with ethereal arms reaching and waving wildly with the ever changing and strong winds. The hover APC, somewhat ironically referred to as a 'Heavy' APC despite its mere 20 ton mass, swayed visibly in the storm as the shifting sands blew out from the craft's skirt with increasing irregularity. Eventually the craft fell back behind us, our tracks and weight enough to compact the sand long enough to provide a more stable surface for the hovercraft to fly over, leaving their driver to only have to battle the wind instead of the ground itself too. Scattered bits of terse radio traffic could be heard filtering back into the infantry bay occasionally washed out by the storm itself outside, an impressive feat given how quiet the ride had been before the storm rolled in. A few minutes later, the storm had fully engulfed us, the tank was surrounded in a literal wall of dust and sand, the engine still running thanks only to the specialized filters installed on the air intakes designed specifically for this type of situation. We had slowed to crawl as visibility was reduced to virtually nothing and from my limited view in the infantry bay it looked like Bishop was driving on instinct, and the occasional flickering sensor readout, rather than anything visual. 

Eventually the 45 ton tank rolled to a stop, semi-sheltered in the shadow of a dune and some rocks, the hover APC pulling up short behind us as well. Captain Maxwell got out of his chair and conferred with Nick and Bishop for a moment, too low to hear above the howling winds, before turning and making his way back to the bulkhead separating the main cabin and the infantry bay.

"Looks like the storm finally took out what was left of our sensors, seismic and EM sensors just crapped out. Bishop thinks they should come back after the storm has passed but for now we're basically blind, even Bishop's IR vision is of limited use because of how much sand and shit is in the air," called Charles, nearly shouting to be easily heard above the howling wind, "Which brings me to you Levi. I hope you brought your Thermoman helmet."

"I did," gulped Levi, not sure what exactly was being asked of him and nervous to be put on the spot, "I have it in the locker here."

"Great," nodded Charles, "grab it and come join me up front please."

Edited by Orlex Jaeger
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