Nicholas Schuster Posted March 6 Share Posted March 6 Concord II Concord system - Free Worlds League May 27, 3031 (Friday) ______________________________________________ My Orion hit the ground with incredible force, much worse than I was expecting since, even though the drop had been turbulent and anything but a smooth ride down, I had managed to brace myself in the cockpit. But I wasn’t used to landing a 75-ton BattleMech. The Orion was the largest thing I had ever piloted, and there was only so much that parachutes could do before they, and the machine they were attached to, reached the ground, and you had to take over. I’d definitely stuck the landing, and now, the Orion was reeling drunkenly, threatening to crash over. The inside of the cockpit was bathed in red warning lights as I wrestled with the controls to regain stability. As I fought to keep the ‘Mech standing, I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my side as one of its erratic movements slammed my ribcage against the pilot’s seat. I powered through it, focusing completely on the task at hand. I yanked the controls to the right, just in time to counteract a particularly strong gust of wind. The Orion steadied out, its balance and mine finally equalizing. I took a minute to breathe, listening to my comm unit as the other members of Aegis Division experienced their own versions of the descent and planetfall. But the sharp stabbing feeling on my side never went away. I looked down to see blood oozing from my athletic t-shirt, staining the black fabric a dark crimson. I shifted in my seat and grunted in reaction to the surprising amount of pain. I pulled my shirt up a little to gauge the extent of the damage, seeing that I’d obviously collided with some sharp edge of my chair at just the right angle, but luckily, there were no bones poking out. But, once I poked at it, I realized that it felt like a broken rib. Fuck. Just what I need on top of everything else. The nanites will get it, though. I thought to myself. But then, I remembered. They were offline to prevent them from replicating so much that they clogged my arteries and caused me to stroke out, or worse, die of a fucking heart attack while still in the cockpit of my 'Mech. "God damn it." I grimaced. Breathing hurt, but I pushed past it. There was no choice but to proceed. Falling apart now wouldn't do anyone any good. As Steve radioed in with an especially wild-sounding landing, I reached for a small med kit stashed near the bottom of my control console. Its contents weren’t very fancy or advanced, but it was all I had. And all I needed right now was the roll of athletic bandage. Once I had it, I unwound the roll with my teeth. Then, I pressed the dressing against my side with a wince, wrapping it tight around my torso. The pain was sharp, but bearable, and after a few minutes I felt steady enough to grab the controls again. But just then, the last voice I wanted to hear crackled in my headset. "Corporal Schuster. Your vitals spiked." It was Curie's voice. I had forgotten she was monitoring my medipack from Captain Maxwell’s ‘Mech. “Yeah.” I played it off nonchalantly, knowing full well that I was caught. "Just a slight mishap when I landed. Nothing to worry about." Her pause said she wasn't buying it, and I cringed. “Nick. Don't lie.” she responded. Her tone was gentle, but firm. “Alright, Curie.” I admitted. "You got me. Cracked a rib or two during the landing. But I'm fine." "You are hurt. You require…medical attention." she said with obvious worry. I grunted again as I pulled my compression t-shirt back down. “I appreciate it, but I am not gonna ask you to have Captain Maxwell pull his ‘Mech over for this. You know what the best thing you can do to help me right now is?” I asked. “Repair your injury?” she responded. I had to laugh at that, even if it was grimly. “No. Don’t tell Levi. Or Captain Maxwell. I don’t want to end up giving my boyfriend, who already has enough to deal with, a heart attack, or getting benched for this mission by the Captain. I need to be useful, not a liability. You get that, right?" There was a long pause before she answered. "I…do not…lie." “I’m not asking you to lie, Curie. Just…” I sighed, running a hand over my face. “Just don’t mention it unless it becomes an issue that affects the mission.” There was a longer pause this time, and I really thought she was gonna refuse. Instead, what I heard surprised me. "Understood." It was blunt and robotic. I could almost see her nodding with deep disapproval but agreeing to my request all the same. "I'll…keep an eye on it.” I promised. “OK.” she answered back, then disconnected. Just then, Jack Whitley cut into the general comms, saying some asshole thing to Steve. A couple seconds later, Captain Maxwell himself came on the line, looking for me. “Alright, that’s everyone except Rebus. Rebus, advise status.” "Rebus on the ground and ready to rally, Captain." I replied, trying to keep the pain out of my tone. There was an awkward pause from the other end before the Captain's rough voice cut through again, and I had to wonder if he’d heard any part of the conversation I had just finished with Curie. "Alright, get up to the regroup zone safe but as quick as you can.” he finally said. He sounded like he was filled with concern. I hoped it was concern for the mission and not me. I wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. "Understood, Captain." I acknowledged. I pushed the throttle of the Orion forward, the machine responding to my command with a surge of raw power. In short order, I’d found the rest of the group, and was in formation, ready for whatever the enemy forces, and the weather, threw at us. 4 Quote Dossier | BattleMech TRO | Kit Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Idris Nasir Posted March 7 Share Posted March 7 Concord II Concord system - Free Worlds League May 27, 3031 (Friday) ______________________________________________ The parachutes exploded with a sharp boom, dragging me back, breaking through the biting wind of Concord II. Blinding whiteness spread in all directions as I quickly descended through the swirling snowstorm. The wind was relentless, ice particles hit my visor, and the snow-covered ground rushed towards me. Suddenly I realized that the horizon line was inclined at an acute angle - at least 50 degrees, if not more. I immediately realized that something was wrong. The wind had taken over my parachutes and I was now leaning hard to the left. I tried to correct the runway by tilting the power armor body as far to the right as possible, but nothing seemed to help. I approached quickly and at an angle that expected the left leg of my armor to bear the full weight and speed of the impact. I pressed myself against the frame of the armor, bracing myself for what I was sure would be a terrible encounter. The power armor computer screamed warnings. The ground was approaching fast - too fast - and then... An impact like I've never felt before. I landed on the icy ground with a deafening crash. I heard a very loud mechanical crack as my power armor slid through the snow in a violent cloud of ice and frost. My HUD was blinking on and off, damage reports were flashing in my visor. I had faced difficult situations before, but falling in the middle of a winter hell with broken power armor was a new challenge for me. I lay there for a while, dazed and disoriented. My vision became clearer, an alarm sounded in my ears, and the HUD flashed red. I quickly silenced it, I needed to concentrate. Looking at my instruments, I realized that I had left several pieces of my armor, but the most damage was done to the left leg of the suit. As I feared, it took the brunt of the impact, but the knee servo broke, completely disabling the limb. I moaned and forced my body to move. I had to assess the damage. The left leg of the armor was twisted unpleasantly, and I could see sparks around the knee joint. I tried moving my leg and experimented with different levels of force. Nothing. A feeling of dread came over me as I realized that I would have to venture into the cold and howling tundra to fix the problem myself. If I had not done this, my mission would have ended before it began. To prepare for the cold, I pressed the button on my right glove. The front of the armor cracked, and I immediately felt a sharp cold. As I struggled, snowflakes swirled around me, instantly covering me in a layer of white. The wind howled and screamed in my ears as I pushed away from it to turn around and look back at the damage to my armor. I realized that I was standing almost waist-deep in snow and that my suit had made a deep furrow in it, littered with fragments of armor. I pulled the combat knife from the sheath on its right leg and used it to cut away the destroyed parachutes before moving to inspect the damage to its left leg. The knee was a disaster. The broken servo's wires were ripped out and the whole thing looked like it had slipped halfway out of the joint. I didn't have the right tools or parts to make a proper repair, but it might be possible to make something homemade. I realized I needed to do two things: reconnect the disconnected wires and somehow get the servo back in place before my fingers froze in the ungodly cold. I quickly found a repair kit for my armor, and inside it was a roll of conductive tape, a hammer, a crowbar, and a folding crimping tool. Using the crowbar, I managed to tear off the armor casing from the damaged knee. Inside, I saw that the impact with the ground had dislodged the servo, causing the power and control cables to be severed. So my first task was to use a hammer to push the servo back into place as gently as possible without destroying it completely. I used the pry bar as a makeshift lever, forcing it between the incorrectly attached servo and the surrounding metal casing. As the wind howled like an enraged animal, I began to hit the end of the lever rod with a hammer, slowly returning the servo to its original position. I expected sparks or some kind of protest from the thing, but instead, over several icy, painful moments, it slid slowly and angrily into place. With my fingers now almost completely numb, I started working on the wires. The cold made every movement sluggish and painful. I pulled the ends back with shaky fingers, exposing them before applying the conductive tape. The glue connection wasn't as strong as it could have been due to frost clinging to the wires, but I just hoped it would hold up. I wrapped them as tightly as I could and prayed that they conduct enough electricity to power the servo. Now comes the last and most difficult part: the crimping pliers. I barely had enough strength to inflate the thing, but I knew that without proper clamping I would just continue lying in the snow waiting for the cold to come to me. I inserted the ends of the wire into the crimping tool as my eyes began to glaze over. Crimping is a delicate process, especially when it feels like your hand has been dipped into a bucket of dry ice. I squeezed the crimping tool as hard as I could. My vision was blurry. My grip slipped. The damn thing almost fell out of my frozen fingers. But then I felt it. A small but clear click. The crimpers did their job and secured the connection between the wires. Several small lights above the servo blinked, indicating that it was receiving power. I quickly grabbed the armor plate cover and hammered it into place before the weather could undo my work. After gathering my tools, I put my power armor back on and breathed a sigh of relief when the suit closed and the heater turned on. But a big test lay ahead of me: whether the suit would hold up at all. I bent my left knee. There was a terrible crunching sound from the power armor's left servo, but then the leg responded with the same movement. The renovation was a success. I put weight on it and expected the worst, but to my satisfaction it held up. With a triumphant grin, I stood the suit fully for the first time since landing. I took several experimental steps. The suit was heavy and slow, not as responsive as it should have been, but at least it moved. With renewed vigor, I made my way through the snow to the planned meeting point. “Junaid to all units,” I radioed, “I had a rough landing, but I’m moving and on my way.” 3 Quote Dossier | Power Armor TRO | Kit Details Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Orlex Jaeger Posted March 10 Share Posted March 10 Somewhere in the Artic Tundra North of Bascombe, Concord II Concord system - Free Worlds League May 27, 3031 (Friday) ______________________________________________ The weather 'cleared up', if you could call it that, shortly after all deployed members of Aegis Division were able to regroup, and by 'cleared up' I meant that it was no longer near whiteout conditions with gale force winds strong enough to blow even a 'mech around. Instead, it was still frigidly cold, an actual boon to my all energy 'mech with the improvement to heat sink efficiency, now with winds merely strong enough to slightly rock a 'mech and whip up the occasional blinding sheet of snow and ice on top of the still falling snow that made it difficult to see past somewhere around 100m (328') or roughly 6 seconds ahead if I was travelling at my 'mech's maximum run speed of 64.8km/h. Since Captain Maxwell's King Crab was the slowest 'mech in our deployment, and since we still were hoping for a surprise attack against Trinity's Onyx Vagabonds at the HPG station, we were instead travelling at a considerably more leisurely pace of 32.4km/h meaning we could see about 10 seconds ahead and that gave us some modicum of warning in case of random rocks, cliffs, or a ravine suddenly appearing in our path, all of which had happened thus far on our relatively short travel. With Alyssa's Raven accompanying us we had the benefit of her advanced ECM suite being able to mask our signature which meant it wasn't likely we couldn't be spotted, electronically, without us picking up the spotter first, and anyone attempting to find us visually would be facing the same problems we were which at least kept us on an even footing. Charles had our 8 'mechs spread out in a rough hexagon pattern with his King Crab and Alyssa's Raven in the middle, Alyssa to provide the optimal ECM coverage for everyone and himself to allow immediate response to a threat in any direction while also providing an extra layer of protection for his ride-along charge. My Black Knight was on point with Nick's Orion and Marius' Marauder on the left and right respectively, presenting a formidable frontline towards any hostiles we may encounter, while Blackwood's Catapult brought up the rear with Jenkin's Crab and Whitley's Merlin filling in the back left and right corners of the hexagon formation. Idris had hitched a ride aboard Nick's Orion in his ICE-S as the 'mech's large shoulder-mounted LRM-15 provided a stable platform for him to latch onto and he could reposition on or disengage from the 'mech with virtually no interference to its operation, whether in combat or not. "I have telemetry," Curie's voice cut across the comms, utilizing Maxwell's command channel to talk to both lances at once. I waited, half expecting to hear more but also unsurprised by the extended silence that followed, although Curie's motor skills, vocabulary, and general interactions had improved greatly since she had first turned up on Site 187's doorstep several months ago she still had seemed to have developed a preference for short, succinct sentences. I knew that extended conversations were still taxing for her but I suspected she was likely capable of more than she let on and I couldn't help but wonder if she purposefully chose to be terse or if being concise was simply a natural habit given her very logical thinking and complex background. "Do tell, weather girl," prompted Jack after he could stand the silence no longer, his words unusually civil although his tone was still its far less than gallant self. Another period of silence followed where it wasn't clear if Curie was intentionally making Jack wait, as the two had developed even further animosity since their incident aboard the Sturmfänger a few days ago, or if she was having some sort of conversation with Maxwell off-mic. Finally her clear voice once again punctuated the airways, "Receiving data from Command Van and satellites. Telemetry." This time the silence following was clearly intentional and I swore I heard someone stifle a snort just before the audio cut out. A moment or two passed, just long enough to drive Whitley right up the wall before the command channel cut back in, seemingly perfectly timed to override Jack's response as I noted he had cued the radio milliseconds before the command channel forced him out. "Weather suspicions confirmed, storm is incoming, this was just the start," intoned Curie with confidence. A moment later, with the command channel still queued, Charles spoke up, "You heard her, what we just came through getting down here was just a taste of what's to come. We're in a momentary clear zone on the radar, Archangel confirmed it's coming in waves and we don't want to be out here when the main body hits. Let's pick up the pace people, HPG station is at bearing 2-8-7, adjust heading and maintain formation." A couple minutes later ... Our 'mechs ploughed through the building snow at a stable pace, the drifts steadily getting deeper, inch by growing inch, as the snow continued to fall and the wind blew in regular gusts. I started getting what seemed like phantom contacts on my radar, brief moments of some kind of signature that just as quickly disappeared, I couldn't tell if it was some kind of interference from the approaching storm or if there really was something out there that was somehow partially hiding from my 'mech's sensors. "Radar, I'm picking up scattered readings ahead, are your sensors showing the same?" I inquired. "I had a couple unknown signals show up and disappear Bastion, but nothing concrete, not even an attempted ID. Too short to even confirm what class of signal it might have been," Alyssa replied. "Any chance your sensors could pull more data if they show up again?" I asked, already suspecting the answer. "Negative, not unless you want me to drop the ECM coverage," answered Alyssa, her tone giving me the impression she was shaking her head, "Eden, what's your thoughts?" "Let's keep the ECM up for now, I want to keep our element of surprise as long as possible," said Charles. "Copy that." The signals returned a short while later, this time long enough to resolve into 4 unknown contacts, no ID, no identification of their source, just that there was something either large enough or powerful enough out there to show up on my sensors. I cycled through my available sensors to try and narrow down their potential source; magnetic anomaly readouts showed a contact that could be within typical 'mech ranges but didn't have the fidelity to separate the individual contacts and could be disrupted by local heavy metal deposits. Radar showed intermittent signals but the heavy snow, and likely the terrain too, prevented any detail beyond the general location of 3 to 4 individual contacts. Thermal imaging couldn't get a read past all the falling snow, at least not at this distance, and any intervening terrain would have complicated things as well, and visual tracking was similarly limited. The distance was too far for seismic sensors to pick anything up which left me with a little more than a strong suspicion that there were possibly 4 enemy units somewhere ahead of us. Suddenly a dark shape loomed in up behind the falling snow before resolving into a heavily creviced cliffside cutting directly into our path. Slowing down slightly I readjusted my trajectory and radioed to the rest of the unit to maintain coherency. "Bastion to all units, got a large cliff ahead of us. Readjusting to bearing 2-8-0 to circumvent. Right flank, you'll need to close up while we reposition." Acknowledgements came across the comms as our group moved nearly as one to get around the unexpected obstacle and almost as quickly as the cliff had come up it began to taper off, I noted the signals had once again disappeared and some part of my mind registered that these cliffs could cause the exact type of intermittent signals and interference we had been experiencing. Just as we began to pass around the cliff base my radar screen lit up with four solid contacts and the Battle Computer screamed alerts at me as suddenly every available sensor got a solid read on an entire enemy lance of 'mechs. "Contact!" I announced on the comms as I swiveled the Black Knight's torso in the direction of the signals. There, just barely visible in the blowing and falling snow, roughly 150m or so ahead and just off to our right was 4 enemy 'mechs plodding along seemingly unwittingly into our path. At the front was a Vulcan, a VL-2T, the 40 ton anti-infantry 'mech was heavily outmatched by any single 'mech in our group, even Alyssa's Raven, but its lancemates behind it presented a more formidable set of foes. A 50 ton Enforcer, the ENF-4R according to my T&T systems, followed behind and slightly closer to us from the Vulcan, with the enemy lance appearing to be in a left echelon formation. Following suit, behind and to the left of the Enforcer came a GLT-4L Guillotine with an OSR-2C Ostroc bringing up the enemy's rear. Each enemy 'mech was roughly the same distance from us just because of the angles but they were steadily getting closer as they headed roughly southwest, coming down the gentle slope of the cliff we had just come around. The enemy finally spotted us as the Enforcer suddenly came to a stop, causing what would have been a comical pile up as the Guillotine and Ostroc continued on for a few more steps and had to maneuver sharply to avoid running into each other, despite their apparent offset from the echelon formation. The Vulcan on the other hand continued on apparently oblivious until on of the others must have radioed them and the 'mech suddenly swiveled quickly to face us and ground to a halt mid stride. All four 'mechs stood facing towards our numerically superior group for what felt like an extended period but was really less than a second or two before all four pivoted in random directions and made to split apart. I could only imagine their confusion and concern at the sudden appearance of our force, Alyssa's ECM clearly doing its job, although I doubted them scattering was due to confusion. "Fire at will!" ordered Maxwell, his words punctuated by the launch of 15 missiles streaking forth from his King Crab still within our hexagon formation. "Jamming comms!" reported Alyssa, anticipating that the enemy would likely try to report our discovery to their main force. Pushing my throttle to full I swung my reticle over the Ostroc as I noted Charles' missiles exploding around the Guillotine, the Black Knight's battle computer calculated all the necessary details to bring its formidable arsenal to bear against the 'mech that was now effectively charging straight at me. Unleashing the PPC and both large lasers I watched as the charged particle beam carved an angry line through the enemy's center torso, melting over half a ton of armour to slag in mere seconds, one of the large lasers missed low while the second bored hole into the Ostroc's right knee with a direct hit melting another half ton of armour into molten rivulets of slag. Firing both of their large lasers in retaliation the Ostroc pilot quickly pivoted to bring the 'mech into a wide circle that would leave them heading west, away from our group, and quickly began accelerating the surprisingly fast heavy 'mech up to its top speed of 86.4km/h, clearly intending to outrun us. The twin azure beams they fired went mostly wide with one of beams grazing my Black Knight's left shoulder and leaving an angry red scar across the armour plating. "They're running!" announced Marius, the static interference of PPC discharges crackling in the background. All four of the enemy 'mech's, now positively identified as being members of Trinity's Onyx Vagabonds, the mercenary group we were here to fight, quickly disengaged as best they could and turned tail to run west back towards the HPG station. It seemed they had been out on patrol and blindly stumbled upon us but now with Alyssa's jamming of their comms and our superior numbers and weight-class of 'mechs their only chance was to retreat and hopefully get outside of Alyssa's jamming range so they could report back to the remaining two lances of 'mechs that were presumably stationed at the HPG itself. We obviously didn't want to let that happen and set off in pursuit of the enemy 'mechs, streaks of missiles, beams of energy, and the staccato of ballistic fire echoed from our 'mechs as we attempted to run them down. Eerily the wind suddenly dropped off and the walls of falling snow lightened up enough for our sight lines to extend sufficiently enough that we could track our opponents as we raced each other towards the HPG station, our superior firepower power fighting against their superior speed. 4 Quote Dossier | BattleMech TRO | Infantry Kit Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Charles Maxwell Posted March 11 Share Posted March 11 Somewhere in the Arctic Tundra North of Bascombe, Concord II Concord system - Free Worlds League May 27, 3031 (Friday) ______________________________________________ “Shit! Radar! Keep on them! Make sure they can’t get outside the ECM field!” I shouted into my headset as I watched the Guillotine, Enforcer, Ostroc, and Vulcan steadily pulling away from my ponderously slow King Crab. “Roger; I’m on them,” Alyssa’s voice replied, the sound of her Raven’s frantic footfalls clearly audible over the channel. I could almost visualize her eyes darting between multiple screens, fingers flying over the controls as she kept the enemy firmly within our electronic umbrella. “If they keep spreading out, though, I might not be able to keep them all contained.” An abrupt series of six explosions, accompanied by the unmistakable warble of laser fire suddenly rocked Ares’ cockpit as the Guillotine pivoted its torso back toward us and unloaded everything it had into my King Crab. Curie cried out in surprise, and as I glanced in the rear-view camera, I could see her braced against her seat, her body rigid with fear. “We’ll be alright!” I shouted to her. “Just keep an eye on that weather.” I leveled Ares’ twin AC/20s on the Guillotine, trying to get a shooting solution on one of its legs. If I could slow the war machine down a bit, I’d have a much better chance of cornering it. My finger poised over the trigger as the enemy ‘Mech’s pilot, apparently encouraged by the solid Alpha strike he’d landed on us, steered the Guillotine into a slight left turn to attempt another pass while continuing to flee. He had no idea of the storm he was about to bring on himself. "Hang on, Curie!" I roared, not waiting for her confirmation before I let loose a barrage of fire. The cockpit shuddered violently as the massive autocannon rounds tore through the icy wind. One round flew wide and plowed violently into the frozen tundra, sending up a towering white geyser. The other, however, found its mark, slamming into the Guillotine's left hip actuator. Its armor buckled and peeled away in the face of the onslaught, sending shards of metal spraying into the air. The enemy 'Mech stumbled, its movement slowing abruptly as the damaged leg dragged in the deep snow. "Gotcha!" I exclaimed, hammering the throttle forward. Ares lurched forward, running full-tilt toward the faltering enemy 'Mech. I couldn't let up now. I had to press the advantage. As Ares closed the distance, I could see the Guillotine's pilot struggling to regain balance. His machine gyrated wildly, its left leg flailing limply. For a moment, I felt a pang of pity. That moment was short-lived, however, as the Guillotine found its footing again and replied to my attack with a blast of heavy laser fire. The coherent energy raked across Ares’ thick armor, scattering superheated shards of ferrosteel across the arctic landscape. I grimaced and responded in kind, my pulse lasers searing through the snow-speckled air. The brilliant beams lanced into the left arm of the Guillotine, melting through layers of armor and rupturing internal components. I didn’t let up, locking on the LRM-10 launcher and unleashing a volley of missiles. Ares lurched as the projectiles launched from their tubes. The Guillotine, now off-balance and in clear distress, pivoted to face me but registered the incoming projectiles too late. The missiles exploded against its torso, blossoms of flame and molten metal erupting from the impact points. Its pilot retorted, wildly firing off his medium lasers in response. A flurry of green bolts hissed past my canopy. A bombardment of SRM-6 impacts followed, rocking Ares as the short-range missiles found their mark. The Guillotine's pilot was desperate, but he wasn't going down easy. "All units!" Curie suddenly exclaimed over the all-call comm channel, "Low-pressure front closing. The storm wall. Visibility…will decrease.” Shit, I thought as I raked the Guillotine with pulse laser fire. These guys are running from us while we’re running from a Blake-damned snowstorm. It was crucial for us to end this battle before the scouting team could slip away into the oncoming maelstrom. “Well, that’s fucking dandy,” Whitley’s voice snarled in reply. “How long we got, weather girl?” "Eight…maybe ten minutes," Curie replied, ignoring the condescending nickname. Her voice was laced with concern and frustration. “And you’re just now telling us?” Jack growled. "Conditions…change…fast!" Curie spat back, her tone sharp for once. Above us, the sky continued to darken ominously, the approaching storm high on the horizon. “Focus on your job, Wicked,” I interrupted, my voice packed with annoyance. "Keep the chatter to a minimum.” As I continued to brawl with the Guillotine, I abruptly saw it stagger sideways on its damaged leg, its laser fire going wide. This was my opportunity. I again leveled Ares’ AC/20s on the limb and fired. An incredible explosion ripped through the freezing air as the Guillotine's leg evaporated into a cloud of molten metal and shattered armor. The enemy 'Mech teetered for a moment before collapsing onto its side, thrashing helplessly in the snow. Its cockpit was still intact, defenseless against the oncoming storm and my King Crab. Usually, I would have disengaged at that point and let the defeated pilot suffer in shame. However, I couldn't take the chance that he might still alert his main force as soon as we were out of jamming range. I knew I had to finish the job. Drawing close to the Guillotine, I fired a final time. The powerful thud of the King Crab's twin autocannons discharging at point-blank range was more vibration than sound. However, their impact with the fallen BattleMech’s cockpit was devastatingly explosive. The Guillotine's cockpit disintegrated in a shower of sparks and burning fragments, scattering in the white snowscape. Silence hung in our own cockpit for a few seconds before it was broken by a gasp from Curie. As I steered Ares away from the carnage, I glanced in the rear-view to see a mixed expression of confusion and disapproval on her face. "Did…had to?" she stammered, her speech clumsier than usual in the shock of the moment. "Yes," I responded tersely, keeping my reactions subdued. I knew what she was thinking, even if she wasn't saying it. Looking forward once again, I keyed the comm unit. “Eden to all units: the Guillotine’s finished. Searching for targets of opportunity.” 4 Quote Dossier | BattleMech TRO | Kit Details Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Steve Jenkins Posted March 12 Share Posted March 12 (edited) MEANWHILE… AFTER the Drop, we had got up to the war place but the war had not started which was good on account of Wicked was super pissed that I had got there First and I needed time to defend my Dignity, after Wicked had got done saying a bunch of swears at me I got on my radio and I tried to say “HEY look Private which is lower than Sergeant I cant help if Im a good Pilot” but for some reason when I had did that my radio just went BOOP. “What the shit??” I Yelled, then I reached over and did the tuning dial, then I tried again. “HEY look Private…” BOOP Then I started hearing Commercials coming out of the radio, “TOILETIZE YOUR LIFE WITH THE NEW FLUSHFORCE 6000 XLT TURBO FOR WHEN THE GOING GETS HOT AND YOU CANT HOLD IT ANYMORE.” “The shit??” I hollered as I tried to tune it again. BOOP “DO YOU NEED BAIL BONDS??” The radio blared “CALL LANNIS BAIL BONDS IT WAS GOOD ENOUGLY FOR ME LANNIS THE 3RD” “What the shit is this shit?” I said as I was trying to Watch my radar and tune the damn radio. I had to say things back to Wicked but all I was getting were TV stations!! It must of been due to the Jamming! So I ripped the knob all the way to the right and I tried again. “Hey Wicked!!!” BOOP went the radio, then I heard the most unbelievable thing, Porn music and “Oooooh ahhhhh unnnnh uhhhh sex me up baby sex me up” and I heard noises like a Bed about to fall apart, “DO ME WITH SEX!!” “What The shit?!?” Then I Twisted the knob again and this time I heard. “THE REALIST NEWS IS BACK AND WERE HERE TO TELL YOU THE HARSH TRUTHS OF THOSE MADDENING SOLDIER BUGS WHO STOLE YOUR JOBS!” “DAMMIT!” I yelled as I smacked the radio. “Okay HAGAKURE 2, we gotta do this the old fashion way.” and I started to get out the Semaphore Flags but then all of the sudden a huge alarm went off, WOOP WOOP WOOP and then the Computer intoned WARNING WARNING COMBAT INITIATINGED WE HAVE INCOMING ENEMIES and then I heard CPT Maxwell and CDR Jaeger hollering “FIRE AT WILL” and I looked and a VULCAN was right there I mean RIGHT THERE, he cut loose with his autocannon and laser and machine gun and I thought “Well I guess we're doing this!” So I slammed down on the go faster handle and turned HAGAKURE to face the Vulcan. “Eat toilet, asshole!!” I yelled as I fired my Small Laser, Medium Laser, and both of my Large Laser Cannons at him. Then HAGAKURE 2 Jerked forward toward the Vulcan and a bunch of leftovers from my 5 minute puke steak and egg breakfast combo special meal with large Dr Peach FIESTA and the spilled milk from the milk machine was launched all up against the inside of the windshield in my cockpit, which was gross. “Gah, I'm gonna throat punch whoever designed this thing!” I Yelled as I wiped the puke from my view screens. Then I saw that HAGAKURE 2 had smashed into the Vulcan and now the Vulcan was spraying lava at me with its flamer!!! “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” I Yelled, then I put HAGAKURE 2 into reverse, as the backup beeper came on I BLASTED the Vulcan with all of my lasers which blew a bunch of parts off his mech that went spinning off into the snow, then he hit me again with all of his guns, and HAGAKURE 2 staggered back, and I yelled “Ow, Damn it” as my cockpit shook. “Last time I let Ironass service my Gyros.” I put HAGAKURE 2 into Drive and did a alpha strike with all my lasers right into one of the Vulcans arms, the arm flew off, and I did a side step as he sprayed my other windshield with his autocannon. WOOP WOOP WOOP Went my War Computer OVERHEAT OVERHEAT “I freakin know!!!” I yelled back at my War computer as I pressed the emergency cooling vent button, which blew freezing air everywhere, along with the puke smell and singed electronics smell, I ended up with a light case of gagosis. Then I remembered I could still make HAGAKURE 2 do Martial Arts against the Vulcan with its big claws. Then I drove into melee range and grabbed the Vulcan's other arm, the one with the flamer, in HAGAKURE 2's claw. It was still lavaing everywhere, well, it was, but then I twisted its arm off and threw it at the Vulcan's cockpit and the Vulcan fell over, then exploded as its ammo blew out. I used HAGAKURE 2's other claw, and smashed the Vulcan's cockpit, hard on account of I had to be sure it wasn't coming Back. I saw a bunch of Gore and Steam spray out so I was pretty sure I had got the bad guy. “WOOT! One Vulcan down!” I hollered on the radio “And HAGAKURE 2 needs a wash!!” Edited March 12 by Steve Jenkins 4 Quote Dossier | BattleMech TRO | Kit Details Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Nicholas Schuster Posted March 13 Share Posted March 13 (edited) Somewhere in the Arctic Tundra North of Bascombe, Concord II Concord system - Free Worlds League May 27, 3031 (Friday) ______________________________________________ In what felt like a split second, we went from trudging through frozen, empty wastes to full-blown combat. Captain Maxwell's King Crab was slugging it out with a Guillotine, Sergeant Jenkins was tangling with a Vulcan, and Commander Jaeger's Black Knight, flanked by Private Whitley's Merlin, was in hot pursuit of a speedy Ostroc. Lieutenant Lennox, piloting a Marauder, and Lieutenant Blackwood, in a Catapult, stood guard on either side of First Lieutenant Maxwell's Raven to ensure no one could disrupt the powerful jamming field she was broadcasting. Meanwhile, I had somehow managed to get the attention of the ENF-4R Enforcer, and we were now circling each other in the thickening snow. Perses, my Orion, felt sluggish under me, probably because I still wasn't used to piloting something as heavy as 75 tons. As I engaged the enemy pilot, I watched as the smaller 50-ton Enforcer sidestepped to its left, trying to stay out of my forward arc while trying get a bead on me with its right arm-mounted large laser. I pivoted Perses in the same direction, keeping the brunt of my 'Mech's armor facing the enemy. The Enforcer fired the first shot. Bluish light sizzled through the air and splashed against my Orion's torso, melting snow and burning paint. “Junaid! You still in one piece out there?” I shouted into my headset, worried that the technician, who was riding on Perses’ shoulder in his ICE-S armor, might have gotten hit in the process. My ribcage screamed in protest from the exertion of yelling as I adjusted my aim for a counterstrike. "Indeed, Rebus." responded Idris’ stoic voice. "No need to worry about me." "Good." I whispered, lining up a shot. The Enforcer was moving fast, and with the blizzard bearing down, visibility was getting worse by the second. I squeezed my trigger, sending a volley of autocannon shells and medium laser fire back at the enemy. The shot was good, hitting the Enforcer square in the chest, sending sparks flying and armor slagging off into the snow. The Enforcer stumbled back, but got its footing back quickly. Then, unexpectedly, it fired its jump jets and soared over me, landing directly in the Orion's rear arc. "Rebus, hostile has landed on your six!" Idris quickly reported. “Blake damn it!” I cursed, feeling the impact of the Enforcer's AC/10,small laser, and large laser slamming into Perses’ rear armor. "Roger that!" I grunted in response, twisting my Orion violently around. “Whoa!” I heard Idris shout in my headset. “Do not forget I am riding on top here!" My broken rib also protested. The pain now felt like a white-hot lance stabbing through my side. I was also surprisingly out of breath, something Curie had warned me was a side effect of the blood thinner. But there was no time to succumb. As the Enforcer came back into view, I could see that the ‘Mech was already lining up for another shot. I knew I had to act first. Not bothering to dial in my aim, I simply blind-fired all three medium lasers, the AC/10, and even the SRM-4 launcher. The resulting explosion of light and heat was blinding, even through my cockpit's polarized canopy. I saw the Enforcer stagger backward as its armor cracked and split, but it still managed to return fire with its AC/10, large laser, and small laser. The depleted uranium rounds, ruby, and emerald beams sliced through the swirling snow and slammed into Perses, sending a shudder through the ‘Mech's massive frame. Warning indicators lit up my HUD, and I pushed the throttle up, trying to start a Circle of Death around the Enforcer. Perses bounded forward, the cockpit and my targeting reticle swinging wildly as I tried to track the Enforcer's movements. Even though my Orion and the Enforcer were matched for speed, the smaller 'Mech moved deftly despite the pounding it had taken, and I had trouble keeping it in my sights. Meanwhile, its pilot continuously took potshots at me, slowly whittling down various sections of Perses’ armor. "Juniad, hang tight!" I called out to Idris. Ignoring the pain in my rib, I threw Perses into a skidding halt that sent tons of snow flying. The Enforcer's pilot didn't anticipate the sudden change in direction, and his last volley went wide. That was the opening I needed. I twisted the control sticks hard, twisting Perses’ torso toward the enemy ‘Mech, and fired. The Enforcer's exposed side was hit with a barrage from my weapons, the force of the blast propelling it sideways. Its pilot tried to compensate for the sudden shift in balance but ended up stumbling over a frozen outcrop instead. Before I could push through the pain in my side and the blurry headspace I was feeling due to the blood thinners, though, the Enforcer's pilot fired the ‘Mech's jump jets. The next thing I knew, the Enforcer was airborne, and a hailstorm of bullets and energy was pounding down on my Orion. I tried to maneuver away, even tipping Perses’ torso up to try to get a shooting solution, but then… “Shit! Rebus! It's a Death from Above!” “Bail out, Junaid, bail out!” I screamed, now in full panic mode. The last thing I saw was Idris in his power armor, launching off Perses' shoulder and into the swirling snow just as the Enforcer came crashing down. With a thunderous impact, the enemy ‘Mech landed on top of Perses. The impact was like an earthquake, throwing me violently into my harness. My vision blurred further, blood roared in my ears, and as both ‘Mechs crashed into the icy tundra, the searing pain from my broken bones reduced my senses to a swirl of bright lights and garbled-sounding sirens. “Fuck…” I moaned, fighting through the haze to stand Perses back up. “Juniad to Rebus, are you alright?” Idris radioed, panic in his voice. “Been better.” I replied. Suddenly, a dull thud vibrated through the hull of my Orion, followed by another and another. Perses began to falter, unable to rise under the impacts. “He's trying to beat you to death!” Idris warned. "Like hell he is!" I snarled back, fighting hard against the controls to get Perses onto its feet. With a surge of adrenaline-fueled determination, I yanked hard on the controls, getting Perses fully upright. The Enforcer kept raining down blows that felt like hammer strikes. The damage alerts were shrieking now, flashing warnings about armor breaches. Once my Orion was on its feet, I reversed hard, hoping to put enough space between us to regain some control over the situation. The external camera that tracked Idris showed him standing a short distance away, waiting helplessly for us to reclaim the upper hand. The Enforcer had other plans. Like an enraged animal, it barreled toward me with raw power, all of its weapons spitting fire. Then, with another impact that nearly made me black out, it slammed into Perses, the enemy pilot leaving his throttle wide open to ensure that both ‘Mechs remained tangled together. As he used his machine's massive gun arms to land hit after hit on my Orion, my vision began to darken around the edges, my body overcome with pain and shutting down from lack of oxygen. “No…” I whispered to myself, clenching my teeth. “Junaid…need help.” What happened next felt like watching some improbable superhero movie, the whole thing playing out on my cockpit monitors like a slow-motion, drug-induced dream sequence. After only a moment's hesitation, Idris, small and insignificant against the hulking BattleMechs, sprinted forward, his power-armored form almost lost in the increasing snow. The camera followed him as he neared the Enforcer and fired the jump infantry pack we'd slotted onto his ICE-S exoskeleton for this mission. The next thing I knew, he'd landed awkwardly on top of the Enforcer’s chassis, though, due to the situation, it was more of a crash that nearly sent him flying off the other side. But, somehow, Idris managed to cling on, his gauntlets finding purchase on the ‘Mech’s armor plates as his boots skidded against the slick surface. As the Enforcer continued its assault and I attempted to fend it off in a drunken haze, Idris forged ahead to the top of the enemy pilot’s cockpit and placed…something…against its access hatch. A split second later, Idris was taking cover as a massive, shaped blast sent the entire hatch assembly spinning off into the blizzard, causing the Enforcer to stagger back in surprise. Idris ran back toward where the hatch had been and pulled out a grenade. I was so close to the Enforcer that I could see the enemy pilot, confused and disoriented by the sudden intrusion, reaching for his sidearm. But Idris was faster. A flash of movement, and the Enforcer’s cockpit was engulfed from within by a bright orange fireball. Idris leaped away, his parafoil deploying and carrying him away from the explosion. There was a brief, glorious moment when the Enforcer stood, frozen and silent, in the midst of a swirling snowstorm. Then, with a final convulsion, the machine fell to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. “Tango down.” Idris’ voice crackled with a hint of exhaustion. “Enforcer eliminated.” “Thank you, Juniad.” I sighed, bringing Perses to a halt and leaning back in my cockpit seat as I tried to steady my breathing. "That was something else." "Anytime, sir. Coming back up now." As I tried to take in controlled breaths, I felt a stabbing feeling in my lungs. That broken rib was making itself known again. Suddenly, as though she could read my mind, Curie’s voice crackled in my headset. “Rebus. You require medical attention.” This time, it wasn’t a question. “Yes.” I sighed. “But we gotta keep moving. We can’t stop the whole damn convoy just to bring you over.” As Idris acknowledged that he was back aboard, I pushed the throttle forward, and Perses started to lumber through the blizzard. Pain radiated from my side with each step. “You require medical attention.” Curie argued. "Your vitals…not within acceptable parameters." "I know." I winced. "But we can't afford to halt our progress. Not now." Edited March 13 by Nicholas Schuster 4 Quote Dossier | BattleMech TRO | Kit Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MercNet Chronicler Posted March 14 Share Posted March 14 Somewhere in the Arctic Tundra North of Bascombe, Concord II Concord system - Free Worlds League May 27, 3031 (Friday) ______________________________________________ Charles grunted in frustration as Commander Jaeger's Black Knight and Private Whitley's Merlin disappeared into the oncoming wall of snow, pursuing the enemy Ostroc at a rate of speed much higher than his own King Crab was capable of achieving. Meanwhile, Alyssa and her protective garrison continued to jockey their positions to keep an ECM shield over the expanding area of engagement. Scanning the radar plotter to find another target of opportunity, Charles’ eyes momentarily caught a glimpse of Curie in the jump seat; her brow furrowed in deep concern and eyes fixed on her weather plotter. “Something on your mind, Specialist?” Charles asked, attempting to keep the mood light as he swung toward a hostile Vulcan that was presently harrying Steve Jenkins’ Crab. “Rebus…Nick's…vital signs…are not good,” Curie's voice cut through the cockpit’s internal comms. An expression of deep concern met Charles’ eyes as she looked up at him, interrupted abruptly as her body was jostled by the movement of the BattleMech. Captain Maxwell cursed under his breath, locating Schuster's Orion on the sensor plotter. It was further from the center of the engagement than the captain would have preferred to move his King Crab, given that, while it wasn't particularly fast, the 95-ton assault ‘Mech's incredible stopping power made it a valuable overwatch asset to the rest of the lance. “Define ‘not good,’ Specialist,” Charles pressed as his targeting and tracking system informed him that the enemy Vulcan was now within missile range of the King Crab. Curie, for her part, struggled to form a verbal response. How does one quantify, succinctly, a bio-monitor's warning signs indicating adverse reactions to blood thinners and an aggravated rib injury, especially when words are…hard? After a moment’s pause, she pivoted to her communication tablet, where she typed out the symptoms: Quote Sudden drop in heart rate. Blood pressure fluctuations. Elevated pain threshold markers. Possible internal bleeding. Requires immediate medical intervention. The message appeared on Charles' secondary console screen, bathed in the harsh, flickering light of warning indicators and tactical readouts. As the BattleMech bumped and trundled toward Jenkins’ firefight, the captain took a moment to read the information. “Why would he have internal bleeding? When did that happen?” Captain Maxwell pressed, an ominous sensation of dread beginning to grip him. He refocused his attention on the tactical readouts, drawing a bead on the Vulcan with the King Crab’s AC/20s. Curie, still gripping the edge of the cockpit console as the ‘Mech lurched sporadically, pressed her lips into a thin line as she considered how to respond. Nick had specifically asked her to keep the information about his rib injury confidential unless it became an issue that affected the mission. Presently, there was no clear indication that the mission had been jeopardized. But the precipitous drop in his vitals painted an alarming prognosis. Curie found herself wrestling with her innate sense of patient confidentiality and the growing urgency necessitating full disclosure. “WOOT! One Vulcan down!” Steve’s voice shouted over the comms as his opponent was unceremoniously destroyed by an internal ammunition explosion. “And HAGAKURE 2 needs a wash!” Fumbling slightly, Curie quickly typed out a response, her fingers hovering hesitantly over the send button before finally pressing it with an air of resigned necessity. Quote Corporal Schuster reported sustaining a fractured rib upon planetfall. Injury is untreated and possibly exacerbated by combat. Vitals also indicate adverse response to blood thinner. As Charles read the message, he felt his blood pressure rising. Once, just once, he wished that Nick would be transparent about his crises rather than allowing them to escalate to a critical mass before they got addressed. He understood Schuster’s dedication and admired it, but not when it turned into self-destruction. He decided then and there that once they were out of this mess, a conversation about trust was definitely in order. "Son of a bitch," Charles muttered under his breath, his hands tight around the controls as the King Crab plodded its way across the snow-laden terrain. Noticing that Nick appeared to be engaged with a marauding Enforcer, he swung Ares around and began navigating toward the melee, the oncoming blizzard reducing visibility by the second. “Alright. Once we get this mess mopped up, we’ll circle the wagons and get you over there to check him out.” Curie didn’t like the sound of that. “What is…’circle the wagons?’” "It's an old Terran expression," Charles explained, maintaining his focus. "Means we're gonna stop pushing toward the HPG station and bunch up for defense. Make it tough for any bastards thinkin' about takin' a shot at us while we get you down the ladder and over to have a look at Schuster." Curie processed this information with a slight tilt of her head, then looked at her weather plotter with concern. Based on the worsening conditions and the rate of the storm’s advancement, any delay in the attempt to reach the HPG station could result in Aegis Division being stranded in whiteout conditions and unable to navigate. She felt a swell of unease at the impasse she was facing: delaying medical intervention for Corporal Schuster could endanger his life. Delaying the push toward the comm station could endanger everyone. "Ni...Nick must wait," Curie stammered, her voice edged with the situation’s urgency. "We cannot stop. The storm is too close. Too risky." Curie’s advisement caught Captain Maxwell entirely off-guard, his knuckles turning white against Ares’ yoke as he processed her words. He knew It went against every fiber of Curie’s being to keep pushing forward while one of her charges was wounded. But she was right. The storm was closing in fast, and they didn't have time to hunker down. His mind raced as he considered alternative solutions. “Well, let’s at least see if we can help him out with his bad guy, huh? The sooner we get him out of that firefight, the better off he’ll be." "Agreed," Curie replied, her attention rapidly flicking back and forth between the weather station and Schuster’s bio-readouts. Within a few moments, Nick's Orion came into view, locked in combat with the Enforcer. Charles' eyes widened as he saw that, despite the difference in size between the two machines, Schuster's 'Mech had taken the brunt of the damage. Scorches, pockmarks, and gashes covered its frame, with armor plates bent around its shoulders and cockpit - indications it had been on the receiving end of a Death from Above attack. The two war machines were engaged in brutal physical combat, although, to Charles, it seemed like the Orion was mostly on the defensive while the Enforcer relentlessly drove forward, attacking with an unyielding barrage of blows. “Eden to Rebus,” Captain Maxwell radioed as he steered Ares into a wide, counterclockwise orbit around the two combatants. “Need a hand?” Intervening in a ‘Mech-sized brawl with ranged weapons was risky and could potentially hit Nick's Orion. For a moment, Charles considered a physical intervention - ramming the Enforcer with Ares - but quickly dismissed it. While it would certainly put an end to the fight, if the enemy pilot had a good hold on Nick’s ‘Mech at the moment of impact, the inertia could pull both 'Mechs down in a twisted heap. The risk was too high. The comms filled with the sound of Nick breathing heavily, but there came no reply. "Rebus, do you copy?" Charles called again, his tone growing more serious. The static-filled silence that followed was deafening. In the meantime, Curie's attention was split between the violence outside and Nick's vital signs - the results were equally disconcerting. His heart rate and blood pressure were skyrocketing, and the bio-readouts on the secondary screen displayed an alarming increase in adrenaline levels. His breathing was becoming increasingly labored. She knew she had to get to him immediately, but even if time allowed for it, the ongoing 'Mech battle made it impossible. Just then, a plume of flame shot skyward from the Enforcer’s head, causing Charles to throttle Ares down and pivot the ‘Mech directly toward the spectacle for a better look. Curie, too, froze mid-task, her eyes fixed on the sight. A bulky, humanoid shape stood atop the hostile war machine, peering down into its cockpit. Charles moved his zoom reticle over the figure, magnifying the feed. It was a person clad in a suit of powered armor. It was Idris. Barely did Charles and Curie have time to process what they were seeing than Idris cast something into the Enforcer’s cockpit and quickly dove away, the wings of his parafoil snapping open just as a secondary explosion ignited where the enemy pilot had been. The hostile BattleMech relinquished its grip on Nick's Orion, causing it to lurch backward. The Enforcer wobbled for a moment before finally collapsing to the ground, defeated. “Tango down,” Idris’ voice crackled, sounding winded but satisfied. “Enforcer eliminated.” “Thank you, Juniad,” Nick responded, his breathing labored. As he spoke, Perses slowed to a halt. "That was something else." "Any time, sir,” Idris answered. “Coming back up now." Before Charles could cut in, Curie was already on the comms, attempting to hail her patient. “Rebus. You require medical attention,” she explained, her voice firm. A long pause followed. “Yes,” Nick eventually sighed. “But we gotta keep moving. We can’t stop the whole damn convoy just to bring you over.” Charles, listening in, felt a pang of resignation at Corporal Schuster’s words. Despite Nick's condition, it seemed everyone believed it was necessary to keep moving forward. As Idris took his place atop Perses, the war machine began lumbering through the blizzard. Captain Maxwell steered Ares into flank formation alongside the ‘Mech. Meanwhile, Curie continued to converse with its pilot. “You require medical attention,” she argued, even though she realized that the decision to continue on had already been made and that, for better or worse, she’d been a part of it. Despite that, pushing back against Schuster felt like the only form of control she had in this helpless situation. "Your vitals…not within acceptable parameters." "I know," Nick’s pained voice acknowledged. "But we can't afford to halt our progress. Not now." Curie looked toward the captain, eyes pleading to him for guidance. Suddenly, a wave of inspiration swept over Charles. “Eden to Rebus, glad to see you in one piece,” he interjected, cutting into their conversation. There came a fraction of a moment's pause before Schuster responded. “Good to see you too, Eden,” Nick answered. "Rebus," Charles explained reassuringly. "We need you stable in that Orion. You can't function if there's a hitch in your step." "I can handle it, sir," Nick insisted, but his voice wavered slightly. "That’s great to hear, but you might not have to ‘handle’ it,” the captain answered, fixing his gaze on Curie in the rear-view. “Think I’ve got a plan to get help over to you without stopping the convoy. Give me two Mikes, and I’ll be back with you. Meantime, keep your ‘Mech in lock-step with mine, copy?” "Copy, Eden," the corporal affirmed, his voice coming through clenched teeth. Charles quickly closed the channel. Setting Ares’ autopilot, he turned to Curie. "You ever watch one of those holovids where they transfer a sailor between two ships at sea?" Curie looked puzzled for a moment, then her eyes widened as she grasped Captain Maxwell’s intent. "You…move me…to Rebus…while moving?" Charles nodded. "Exactly. Takes far too long to stop both ‘Mechs, drop the emergency ladder, get you dressed and down to the ground, then back up again into Schuster’s cockpit. But, we got a man riding on Perses’ shoulder with a jump pack, parafoil, and an armored suit that can easily carry you.” Curie’s eyes conveyed her trepidation - or possibly shock. The captain's gaze softened. “I know it sounds like pure insanity, Curie, but we don’t have much choice at this point. As you rightly pointed out, that storm wall is damn near on top of us, and we’re fresh out of time. If you want to treat your patient, this is the way to do it.” Curie sat silently for a moment, weighing the risks. She’d never imagined doing something so audacious, let alone ever tried it. Not in any of her lifetimes. But then again, she had never been in a situation quite like this before. Finally, she took a deep breath, nodded, and whispered, "I…I’ll do it," her voice shaking slightly. Charles grinned, relieved. "Good. Get your gear on. Wouldn’t want you to catch your death of cold out there. I'll let Nasir know, and we’ll start the prep." “Wait,” Curie interjected, her voice louder this time. “Who will watch…the weather?” Charles chuckled lightly. "You just focus on gettin' to Nick for now. I'll make sure we don’t run headlong into that storm. At this point, it’s making its position pretty obvious. Think I can handle a turn at the wheel." Curie nodded again, then rose from her station to retrieve her pants and medical coat. Meanwhile, the captain opened a comm channel to Idris. "Eden to Juniad.” “Juniad. Go,” the technician replied, the howling wind in the background nearly drowning out his voice. “Juniad, I've got a job for you,” Charles explained. “One that might just put hair on that chest of yours." Nasir's thick accent came through the speaker with a hint of amusement. "You think I have not enough already?" Maxwell could almost see the mechanic grinning and shook his head with a laugh. "Maybe so, Nasir, but what I need from you is to prep for a passenger transfer. Curie'll be making a quick house call to Rebus, and I’m going to need you to come across and get her." There was another burst of wind, and then Idris' voice came through again, slightly muffled. "Passenger transfer? You mean you want me to…” "Jump," Charles finished for him, "Between my King Crab and Nick's Orion. With some precious cargo." The comm line was silent for a few moments as Nasir digested the task at hand. Finally, he scoffed, "In this weather? With our only meteorologist? You have too much faith in me, Captain." "But faith's what we're all running on, isn't it, Junaid?" Charles quipped, the steady thump of the King Crab's footfalls punctuating his question. "Faith and a good dose of insanity." There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a barely perceptible sigh. "Yes, sir. You are right. I’ll prep for jump and come aboard at your signal." “That’s the spirit,” Maxwell beamed, attempting to keep the mood light. “Break. Eden to Rebus.” “Go ahead, Eden,” Schuster answered. “Were you direct on all of that?” "Roger, Eden," Nick’s strained voice replied. "Ready when you are." "Excellent. Match my speed and be ready to receive Junaid and Archangel." Charles instructed. A grunt that sounded like an affirmative could be heard from Schuster's end. Curie had finished changing into her medical gear by now and stood just behind the pilot's couch. She was bundled up in her coat, the blue scarf pulled tight around her neck, medical satchel slung across her torso. Charles turned to face her, his eyes scanning her worried expression. "You good, Specialist?" Curie bobbed her head, her hands awkwardly fumbling with the straps of the bag. "Sure," she replied, her tone revealing that she was anything but. "No need to worry," Charles reassured her firmly. "You’re in the best hands with Idris." Curie nodded a final time, the storm outside reflecting in her icy blue eyes as the cabin's dim light danced on her cheekbones. "Trusting the plan," she murmured. 3 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MercNet Chronicler Posted March 15 Share Posted March 15 Somewhere in the Arctic Tundra North of Bascombe, Concord II Concord system - Free Worlds League May 27, 3031 (Friday) ______________________________________________ As terrified as Curie was at the prospect of being carried aloft to Nick’s Orion, Idris was just as nervous about performing the daunting feat. Sure, he had extensive experience with jump jets, both from his time in the Free Worlds League Military and his years spent servicing 'Mechs. But never had any of those experiences involved ferrying a fragile human life from one moving BattleMech to another, especially not in the midst of a blizzard. This challenge was an entirely different beast. Calm down, Nasir, Idris thought as he clung to Perses’ lumbering frame, waiting for the "go" signal. Do not overthink this plan. You jump to Maxwell’s King Crab. Take up Curie in your arms. Leave one hand free. Jump back to Perses. Slow descent through hover maneuvers. Soft landing. Open unlocked cockpit hatch. Assist Curie onto the ladder. Close hatch. Indeed, it was all easier said than done, but Idris understood that if Captain Maxwell had greenlit as utterly insane a plan as this one, the situation must be dire. Long minutes passed as the technician mentally rehearsed the maneuver, trying to ignore the white flurries descending around them. "Alright, Juniad," Charles’ voice eventually announced, breaking the silence in Idris’ headset, “the package is ready. Are you?” The technician took a deep breath, gripping the armored suit's controls tightly. "I am ready," he replied, his voice more confident than he felt. Charles’ King Crab slid into view, a hulking silhouette against the fast-approaching snowstorm. Idris paused to study the 'Mech, noting the wide, oblong chassis and enormous claws from which the war machine’s name derived. With its arms outstretched, it looked like some monstrous crustacean, and Idris could see Curie's small torso peering out from the open cockpit hatch. "Very well, then," Charles acknowledged, his voice grim. “Rebus, I need you to match both my speed and maneuvers, aff? Let’s give Juniad the most stable platforms we can.” “I’m on it,” Nick replied, his voice strained. Idris could practically hear Nick's teeth gritting with pain. Clearly, the young corporal was hurting - probably a lot. Within a few moments, Perses was in lock-step with Ares, both leviathans leaving huge, plowed furrows in the snow. “Alright, sir. I’m there. Ready for launch.” “We’re ready over here, too,” the captain confirmed. “Junaid, you can begin your run as soon as you’re ready.” Idris nodded, even though he knew Maxwell wasn't there to see it. "Let's do this," he announced, steeling himself for the leap. Drawing on every ounce of his training and years of experience, he leaned forward, extended his parafoil, and, with little else but the storm guiding his path, fired the jump pack. The world seemed to slow as Curie, squinting through the billowing snow, watched the technician throw himself off Perses atop a pillar of flame. Her breath caught in her chest as he shot across the gap, the illuminated glass of his helmet casting a ghostly halo in the churning, virulent snowstorm. For what seemed like an eternity, Idris hung against the blank canvas of the gale, a lone figure in a suit of armor. Then, just as abruptly, time reasserted itself. Idris crashed into Ares’ hull, landing in a kneeled posture with a booming thud that resonated through Curie’s bones. As his parafoil snapped shut, he scrambled to his feet, the exoskeleton making the task almost effortless despite his substantial bulk and gravity’s pull. Curie edged further up the King Crab’s ladder, ensuring that her comm headset was securely seated in her ear. Seconds later, Idris was crouched beside the hatch, meeting her apprehensive gaze with a nod, his large gauntlet outstretched. “Ready to fly, Specialist?” Curie swallowed, nodding as she grabbed the offered hand. Was she ready? Far from it. But this…’wicked stunt’…was necessary for Nick's survival. “Yes,” she replied pensively. Her fingers wrapped around Idris' metallic fingers, and he assisted her up onto Ares’ rolling deck, the cold grip of the suit a stark contrast against her flesh. She clung to him, trying to steady herself, a shiver of apprehension rippling through her as she took in the sight of Perses looming next to them. Idris, meanwhile, regarded the spectacle with concern. Nick’s BattleMech was a far less generous landing platform than Ares. Although the technician could comfortably mount and dismount from the machine’s shoulder on his own, this time, he’d be trying to do so with an altered center of gravity while weighing 56 kilograms more than normal. He cast a glance at Curie, his eyes evaluating her figure as he mentally calculated the risk. "OK, Curie," he finally instructed, outstretching his arms and crouching down. “Arms around my neck. I will carry you.” Curie hesitated for a heartbeat before squaring her shoulders and doing as instructed. Approaching the technician, she wrapped her arms firmly around the back of the suit’s rubberized neck, interlocking her fingers. Then, in an instant, Idris scooped her from the King Crab’s deck, holding her cradled protectively in his left arm. “Juniad to Rebus and Eden: the package is collected. Ready to return,” he advised. “Copy that, Juniad,” Nick responded. “Rebus is ready to receive.” “Eden to Juniad: you’re clear to fly,” Charles confirmed. Idris looked down at Curie one final time. “Here we go.” The next seconds transpired in a blur for Specialist Franklin. As she clung to him, Idris barreled forward, the edge of Ares’ hull rapidly approaching before giving way to a stark, vertiginous drop. With a loud bang, the suit’s parafoil deployed, and there was a brief sensation of free-fall before the armor's jump pack fired, propelling them into the blustery sky. The frosty wind tore at Curie's face, whipping her hair into a frenzied dance. Her heart thudded in her ears as she squinted, trying to see something - anything - through the blizzard's frigid embrace. The world whirled around her in a chaotic canvas of white and gray, punctuated by the intermittent shapes of the two leviathans. "Almost there," Idris reassured her as the Orion loomed straight ahead. “Gonna do a brake and hover.” Curie felt a wild sense of disorientation as Idris suddenly pulled the parafoil into a vertical stall maneuver. As they ascended, frost began to form on Curie's cheeks, the chill of it making her eyes water. Her fingers were becoming numb, and she was grateful for the cold, strong embrace of the ICE-S suit. "Juniad to Rebus. Prepare to receive," Idris' voice echoed in her ear as the ascent bled away. The suit’s parafoil stowed away as the jump pack activated in short, precise bursts. Curie glanced down and noticed that they were descending directly over Perses' shoulder; Idris was using the suit’s jump jets to ensure a gentle, controlled landing. "I see you, Junaid," Nick replied. "I'll try to keep the wheel straight." In moments, the suit’s feet made contact with the Orion’s hull, connecting with a solid thud. Idris reeled slightly and shot out his left gauntlet to grab a nearby handhold. Then, without further pause, he worked his way across the heaving and rolling surface, carrying Curie to the cockpit hatch. Kneeling down to steady himself, Idris opened it with a powerful tug. A blast of warm air rushed past Curie’s neck, making her shudder in the abrupt contrast. "Junaid to Rebus," he reported, “we’re aboard.” “I gathered that,” Nick quipped. “It’s fucking cold in here now!” Idris gave a low chuckle. "Sorry about that, Rebus." He gently unclasped Curie from himself, using the power armor’s considerable strength to place her directly on the cockpit’s ladder. “Good job, Specialist,” he smiled. “Now, go. Be with your patient.” Curie returned a small smile at Idris' words. "Thank you," she whispered as she descended into the Orion. Idris closed the hatch behind her, rose, and returned to his customary hitch point on Perses’ shoulder. Only then did he allow himself a long, shuddering breath, the sheer magnitude of what he’d just pulled off finally sinking in. Elsewhere, within the King Crab’s cockpit, Charles waited pensively for the situation report. He’d refrained from requesting updates, respecting Idris’ need for total focus during the intense maneuver. He’d kept his eyes trained on the HUD, watching the incredible maneuvers with rapt anticipation. But now, the silence was deafening. Just as Charles reached for the comm toggle, the status report he’d been waiting for crackled in. “Rebus to Eden: the package is aboard and unharmed,” Nick advised. “She’s working on me now.” A surge of relief washed over Charles. “Roger that, Rebus. Nice work, both of you. Let’s regroup with the rest of the gang and get to the HPG station before we can’t see our own noses.” 2 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Orlex Jaeger Posted March 18 Share Posted March 18 Somewhere in the Artic Tundra North of Bascombe, Concord II Concord system - Free Worlds League May 27, 3031 (Friday) ______________________________________________ I ploughed forward into the deepening snow, trying my best to keep up with the Ostroc who had me beat by at least 20km/h at top speed, deep furrows trailing behind me as the war machine fought for purchase in the frozen ground beneath. While the speed difference sounded significant, and actually was in virtually any scenario, I had two things working in my favour; first the time frame we were working with, on the order of minutes for most engagements, meant the enemy couldn't straight up outrun me that easily, or at least my gun ranges. Second, the 'mech's actual design was currently a hindrance, slight as it may be, whereas my Black Knight had a more humanoid styled foot, narrow and long, the Ostroc had a large circular design with clawed toes, great for soft surfaces like sand or deep enough snow where you didn't want to sink in but right now it prevented the 'mech from getting its feet through the fresh fallen snow and onto the hard frozen surface beneath. This meant the 'mech actually had slightly less grip with the fresh snow causing its footing to slip just enough to hinder its top speed, or at least cause the pilot to think twice about pushing it to the max. I intended to take full advantage of the situation and unleashed another barrage of energy weapons fire at the now fleeing Ostroc, my PPC just grazing its left arm and causing minimal damage while the twin large lasers struck an unfortunate boulder that the enemy had just skirted around, the beams dumping enough energy into the frozen rock to cause it to explode in a hail of harmless, at least to a 'mech, stones and shards. Having expected to be chasing down this particular enemy by myself I was surprised to see another PPC bolt flash past me and strike a glancing, but still solid hit to the enemy's left torso, a glowing shallow crater of semi-molten armour quickly cooling in its wake. Expecting to see Marius in the Marauder, just given our original positions when the enemy showed up, I was again surprised to see Jack Whitley in my Merlin bringing up the flank. While both 'mech's technically had the same top speed I noticed that Whitley was somehow gaining on me ever so slightly and in a moment I saw how as he ignited the Merlin's jump jets at full stride, but rather than launching himself fully into the air he cut them short and used short bursts to propel the 'mech along the ground, its similarly long and narrow feet skimming along the top of the larger snow banks before landing back down without breaking its stride. I knew Jack was supposed to be an excellent mech pilot, not least of all from his own boasting, but this was the first time I actually got to see it in action and I was impressed, particularly since he had relatively limited experience in the Merlin. "Nice driving Wicked," I offered over the unit-to-unit comm, "Let's run this guy down." "Yeah, yeah, this is easy," replied Jack nonchalantly, his tone implying he wasn't interested in any small talk, "I got this." Between the terrain and Whitley's skilled use of the Merlin's jump jets he was able to close to just within medium laser range and he unleashed a barrage of fire from the 60-ton 'mech's arsenal. The LRMs flew wide, exploding in fountains of snow and ice all around the evading Ostroc, while the single medium laser he fired just missed the 'mech's right hip, the PPC also melting meaningless amounts of snow a considerable distance away from the enemy 'mech. As tempted as I was to make a comment about Jack's lackluster accuracy I kept my mouth shut as I didn't even have a shot to take at the moment myself, between the intervening rocks and a sudden elevation change I hadn't spotted until the Ostroc suddenly dropped several meters as it ran down the hill, I was left scrambling to get back into a position where I could even fire on the enemy. Cresting the narrow ridge I was greeted by a pair of large lasers that were close enough to warm my canopy glass, though they thankfully didn't hit, as the enemy had slowed and pivoted once fully into the depression to try and bring their weapons to bear on me while also evading another salvo of inaccurate fire from Jack in my old Merlin. Utilizing the Black Knight's powerful sensors I was able to quickly draw a firing solution on the still slowed enemy Ostroc and unleashed an alpha strike despite the overheat risk that was a very real threat given my all energy loadout. Twin azure spears of coherent light lanced out from either torso tracing lines of destruction downrange, only a single beam managed to make contact with the now accelerating Ostroc but it was solid hit to their center torso. The quartet of medium lasers lanced through the raging storm outside with all 4 beams striking home across the enemy 'mech, all three torso locations had new ravines of molten slag etched into their surfaces while the Ostroc's left leg had enough armour melted at the knee joint to cause a hitch in its next step, fortuitously timed to the impact of my PPC. The bolt of charged particles comprising the particle projection cannon's streak of bottled lightning struck violently into the Ostroc's left torso just as the momentarily seized joint on its left leg stuttered before breaking free of the brittle slag. Compounded with the slippery surface and uneven terrain beneath its round feet the combined loss of over 2 tons of armour, the surprisingly heavy impact of a significant amount of particles travelling near the speed of light, and the momentary stumble of the temporarily seized joint was enough to send the Ostroc sprawling across the frozen wastes as its pilot failed to keep the machine upright. Its own weight crushing what little armour remained along its left torso as the frozen tundra tore away the shattered plating, to their credit however the Ostroc's pilot was immediately working on getting back up and wasted no time in getting mobile again, my own weapons barely had time to cycle before they were back on their feet. Not that it mattered as the temperature in my cockpit had sky rocketed to the point of some of the metal paneling actually shimmering with heat waves from the sudden onslaught of heat the alpha strike had delivered, warning klaxons bellowed for attention as I slapped the shutdown override controls hoping the frigid storm outside my 'mech would help alleviate the worst of the heat in short order. From outside the armoured cowlings housing the plentiful heat sinks on my Black Knight would be glowing a deep angry orange, well past the typical red glow of 'mech in combat, and the falling snow was likely sublimating into steam vapour just by entering the vicinity of the Black Knight's overtaxed heat sinks. If my 'mech had carried any ammunition I would have been severely worried about a cook-off but at least the all energy loadout meant that wasn't a concern. Taking advantage of the enemy's fall Jack maneuvered the Merlin into a better firing position, unleashing an alpha strike of his own enroute as the now beleaguered 'mech stood up, most of the shots were glancing blows but the medium lasers were able to core into the Ostroc's left arm though they hit nothing vital. The still rattled enemy Mechwarrior let loose with their own considerable arsenal towards Jack, though his quick use of the Merlin's jump jets meant all of the enemy shots pierced empty air as he sailed over them on quad jets of fire burning from the 'mech's sturdy legs. With my 'mech's heat levels still in the red, though starting to slowly drop finally, I could do little more than watch, and drive my own 'mech ever closer, as the two evenly matched BattleMechs closed to within melee range. The Ostroc pilot had correctly guessed Jack's intentions when he launched skyward over his attempted counterattack and he ensured that he was far enough away to prevent the fated death-from-above attack that some MechWarriors were want to attempt, instead he waited until the Merlin dropped low enough in its arc to prevent any significant course changes and then charged the Ostroc forward in an attempt to get the first blow in. Jack, for his part, also seemed to have anticipated such an action as a quick final burst from the jump jets in the right leg gave the Merlin enough angular momentum to sweep its leg out of the path of the oncoming attack, a running kick with the Ostroc left leg in mid stride. Jack once again showed off his actually impressive piloting skills as he then planted the 60-ton 'mechs right leg just long to arrest his backwards drift before launching forward half a step with the same leg, planting it once again and pivoting hard to bring the Merlin's left leg out in a full powered kick to the rear of the Ostroc's right leg. The missed kick had put the enemy pilot off balance again and then the sudden impact of 12 tons of armoured limb, with the full weight of a 60-ton 'mech behind it, was enough to buckle the enemy's leg from behind and the pilot was once again unable to compensate, the gyro screaming as the 60-ton enemy 'mech toppled backwards in slow motion, its own weight once again crushing a notable amount of armour on its center rear torso, a routinely under-armoured section of most 'mechs. Despite yet another fall the enemy MechWarrior was still able to get their 'mech back upright in short order and were still determined to get away, firing a pair of medium lasers and their SRM-4 at Whitley as they backed away they scored a lucky strike and all three weapons managed to hit the Merlin's right leg before the turned and ran as fast as their 'mech could go. The destruction wreaked upon the Merlin's savaged leg likely had numerous alarms blaring at Jack as more than a ton of armour was stripped from the 'mech within seconds, but despite the brutal onslaught the venerable machine's leg, and indeed the armour itself, held. With my own 'mech finally cooled to the point where I could confidently fire my energy weapons again I took aim at the once again fleeing Ostroc and fired the Black Knight's arm mounted PPC, the transient beam of particles streaked across the winter wonderland like a bolt of lightning before crashing harmfully into the enemy's damaged right leg. The advantageous strike was more luck than skill as I had intentionally aimed for center mass for the best chance of hitting the enemy but I'd still take it as the momentary EMP effect wrapped around the Ostroc's compromised limb, crackling with destructive energies. With Jack and the Merlin having recovered from the enemy's attack he too unleashed his own stream of charged particles, the beam coring into the enemy's right torso at such an angle it merely melted through some thin layers of armour before streaking off into the snowstorm. The medium laser and machine gun fire that followed however were much better aimed with both emerald spears of high energy light lancing through what little remained of the right leg's armour before Jack raked the Merlin's twin machine guns down the stricken Ostroc's rear torso and into the exposed internals of the right leg, the multi-barrel weapons glowing white hot as Jack continued to hold down the trigger spewing sufficient lead from the normally heat-less guns to start actually registering on a 'mech scale. The light-caliber rounds, compared to other 'mech weaponry, made up for their insignificant individual damage with sheer volume of fire as literal hundreds of rounds bullied their way into the comparatively delicate internals of the Ostroc's vulnerable leg. One, or more likely several, of the high velocity shells struck something critical inside as sparks, smoke, and possibly a small explosion erupted from within before the savaged limb literally fell off during the 'mech's next stride. The shattered hip actuator still working helplessly to try and propel a leg that was no longer there as the machine tilted and then fell one final time, the MechWarrior within attempting to brace against the fall with the Ostroc's arms to little effect as the combined weight of the war machine simply crushed the already damaged left arm, its upper arm actuator spearing out the side of the internal structure like a broken bone while the 60-ton 'mech bounced and skidded to a stop on the frozen landscape. Jack and I approached the downed enemy 'mech, its now futile attempt at escape finally put to rest, with our weapons still targeting the enemy unit, both of us aware that a prone 'mech could still be dangerous. With Jack reaching the Ostroc first I stayed back a few steps and prepared to broadcast an order to surrender when Jack turned the Merlin back to look directly at me as he brought the 'mech's foot up above the rear of the downed 'mech's cockpit, as though he wanted to make sure I saw what he was doing. Before I could respond, and even before Jack could drop the 12-ton limb in a curb stomping action that would crush the Ostroc's cockpit, a series of small explosions along the top of the 'mech were followed by a sudden blast of an ejection seat rocketing away on an extremely hazardous horizontal trajectory away from the prone 'mech. The seat appeared to clip something on its way out of the 'mech as the exhaust plume spiraled away at an odd angle into the snowstorm but there was no way to tell if the pilot was injured or if the ejection had simply been slightly off due to the 'mech's unusual orientation. Unfortunately, due to the heavy storm and low visibility I quickly lost track of the small escape pod and my sensors didn't have the fidelity necessary to track something that small. The sound of sheering ferrosteel and grinding armour plates drew my attention back to the now abandoned Ostroc and I saw that Jack, despite the futile effort now, had decided to finish his curb stomp maneuver and crushed the already empty cockpit with a definitive straightening of the Merlin's formidable leg, the destroyed enemy 'mech twisted at a slight angle now from the action. "Bastion to Eden," I called on the company wide channel, "Ostroc is down but the pilot escaped. They ejected towards the south but we lost them in the storm." "Copy that Bastion, nothing we can do about it now. Link up with the rest of team, this storm is only going to get worse and we need to get to that HPG station before it does," replied Charles, the resignation in his voice evident although his stoic resolve overshadowed it. "Affirmative Eden, Wicked and Bastion are Oscar-Mike," I replied, signaling to Jack with the Black Knight's hands the direction we needed to move in. Switching back to the unit-to-unit channel I said, "Nice work Wicked, good to see you're not all talk. Let's regroup with the others." "I told you I'm good, not my fault if you didn't believe me. And unlike your other little minions I know how to keep track of where I am on the battlefield, I don't need you pointing out directions to me," scoffed Jack. With a sigh I closed the channel and shook my head, the man definitely had talent but it seemed to only be limited to fighting, on or off the battlefield, I just hoped Charles and I could blunt his confrontational attitude long enough for him to actually become part of the team, if not I wasn't sure how long he'd last in Aegis Division. 4 Quote Dossier | BattleMech TRO | Infantry Kit Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Levi Wright Posted March 19 Share Posted March 19 North of Bascombe, Concord II Concord system - Free Worlds League May 27, 3031 (Friday) ______________________________________________ The radio crackled to life. “Eden to Rebus. Need a hand?” Snow drifts went blasting up the windshield of the BRV as its' plow plowed through them. Real snow really did look kinda like those Scene TV snow graphics, and the staticky radio completed the effect. There was a fluctuation on the line that sounded sorta like breathing. I really hoped Nick's comms were just broken, and nothing worse had happened. "Rebus, do you copy?" the captain said over the radio. I looked in one of the mirrors for seeing what was going on in the BRV and helping people not bump into each other and stuff; Mallory was poking at a terminal looking really tense, which didn't make me feel better at all. "Is he alright?" I asked. "Your other half's seems to have found himself a dancing partner and now they're doing the tango, but he can handle himself. All you have to worry about is keeping us on the road." I watched the whole top half of another snowdrift blast up the windshield and white us out for a couple seconds. "Uh, yeah, bad news about that - GPS got weird and I can't tell if we're messing up the left shoulder or the right shoulder in all this snow." Mallory laughed. "At least the road crews will have job security when this blows ov-" "Tango down," Idris said over the comms, barely hearable through all the static. "Enforcer eliminated." And then there was Nick's voice: "Thank you, Juniad. That was something else." He sounded exhausted and kinda fucked up, but he'd made it. I breathed, "ohthankgoodness," and relaxed for about half a second, but then the BRV tanked over something that went crunch and I had to focus on the maps and trying to find the road, or at least making sure we didn't run off a cliff. "Easy now," Mallory said." Nick pulled through. Imagine his disappointment if you pulled up to the HPG station dead." I did a nervous laugh. A few more crunches happened, but they weren't as loud, so maybe that was less bad? "Hey, wait a minute," I said. "How can I pull up anywhere if I'm dead? I mean somebody else could drive, but then they'd be the one pulling up." "Somehow, I don't think that would lessen his grief." Then there was another crunch, and a reflective yellow road sign went flying up the windshield, and there was a thing on it, and I yelled "WHAAAAA" and accidentally swerved the BRV. "What's going on up there?" one of the techs yelled. "I FOUND THE ROAD!" I hollared back. I swerved the BRV some more, because now I knew where the road was supposed to be, to the left of the sign. The BRV didn't drive any different, but at least it was probably doing less property damage now. "Hey," I said, "does anyone know what a road sign with a walrus-thing with a shell and drooly bits is supposed to be?" Somebody who'd walked right behind me, I think Antonio, said "I think the 'drooly bits' are tentacles." Mallory added, "a mammal with tentacles, that's a first." There'd been a whole bunch of radio traffic between Idris and the captain that I hadn't paid a ton of attention to, since I could barely make out the words anyway, but then one caught my ear - "Eden to Rebus." "We don't know it's a mammal," Antonio argued, "it could be convergent evol-" "Ssh!" I said. I was pretty sure Nick had been on the comms but I hadn't been able to hear at all. The radio said "bzzz bzzzzz direct on bzzt?" and then, "Robzzzt Eden, bzzzz when you are." Of course it wasn't possible to tell how he was doing just from a radio transmission where I couldn't even make out all the words, but I had this really, really bad feeling. It was too similar to how he'd sounded in between puking his guts out at the circus, except it definitely wasn't an alcohol problem this time. "Excellent," said the next transmission. "Bzzzzt speed and be ready-" and then it collapsed into static. "Think about it," Antonio droned on, "about half the planets with complex vertibrates and moderate tempuratures have something like a cow, and wherever crabs are studied they usually find at least three completely unrelated kinds, sometimes as many as fourteen, and-" The BRV lurched backward without actually moving backward - we just sorta lost forward momentum for half a second. "Hey Antonio," I half-yelled over the radio static, "what's ahead on the topo map? Does it get any steeper?" There was some mumbling and shuffling, and then Antonio called back, "not much, we're almost over the ridge - getting back up it when we leave could be interesting, though." I pumped the gas, hoping that'd get a little more traction to the treads like the opposite of an anti-lock break. "Thanks - we'll save the shrapnel for later then, we might need it. Hopefully we won't have to retreat in a hurry or anything." As we reached the top of the ridge, the radio static started to make words again. "Excellent. Match my speed and be ready to receive Junaid and Archangel." "Archangel?" I asked. "Isn't that-" "Curie," Mallory finished. For a few minutes after that it was like the BRV got too cold for speech bubbles. Antonio finally broke the silence. "How can she switch mechs when the mechs are moving? I mean, with the hatch positions on a King Crab and an Orion, docking them wouldn't work at all." Antonio made a weird gesture with his fingers, probably meaning for each hand to be a mech, but it made no sense at all. "Holy shit, I think he's gonna use the jetpack. That's awesome," I said without thinking. "I mean, other than being wildly dangerous, I can't believe they got Maxwell on board with that plan, it'd have to be-" I caught Mallory's eyes in the mirror, and the cab got even colder. "oh. oh crap." "Yeah," Mallory said softly. The BRV's treads ground on a snowdrift, then finally cut through, spraying the windshield with white. "Let's hope Idris knows what he's doing, and the weather holds." I did my best to keep the BRV on the road as it lurched and skidded down the slope, and we all listened to the radio. “The package is ready. Are you?” "I am ready." A gust of wind picked up, throwing snow sideways across the windshield and whiting out all the windows on the left side. "Very well. Rebus, I need bzzzzbzzzbzzzt maneuvers, aff? Let’s give Junaid the most stable platforms we can.” “I’m on it.” Nick sounded like he'd just gone three rounds with a rabid dog and been told a tiger was up next, which I guessed made sense, if his blood was filling up with pointy little robots again. “Alright, sir. I’m there. Ready for launch.” "We’re readzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt, too. Juniad, you can bzzzzzzzz soon bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt-” "Come on come on, not now," I hissed at the radio's speaker. "Weather window's closing," Mallory said, almost monotone. "Can you give her more gas?" "I'm trying, but Nick's probably dying or something and Curie and Idris might get splatted like windshield bugs, it's really distracting!" "Focus on what you can do," Mallory said. "Get us to the rendezvous point, and trust them to handle the rest. Your boyfriend, Idris and Curie are all tough cookies." Mallory's face was uncharacteristically blank in the BRV's mirror. I drove. 4 Quote Dossier | Vehicle TRO | Kit Details Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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