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Author Topic: Tales of the Mimetic Badarses  (Read 2942 times)


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Tales of the Mimetic Badarses
« on: 24 February 2011, 10:17:55 »
A series of short, one-shot fics from across the history of a certain colourful unit. Updated randomly whenever I come up with something. Enjoy!


Perfectly Ordinary Derelict Factory, Galataport
Skye Province, Lyran Alliance
24 December 3068

Despite the fact that Lynn Street James was an undeducated backwater idiot savant who’s favourite pastime seemed to be drinking heavily, Sandra found that she quite liked the technician. Or, maybe it simply was because of Lynn’s background and such that she liked her; certainly the woman made no efforts to hide her origins or make excuses, and so far she’d found that people who gave direct answers in the Mimetic Badarses were few and far between.

The pair of them were in the Badarses’ mech bay under the abandoned factory on Galatea, having a few drinks. That Lynn was doing such while crawling around inside Sandra’s Thor and working on its systems was largely irrelevant. Lynn seemed to prefer working with a drink or two inside her, and certainly it didn’t seem to affect her work. In fact, Sandra had noted that her mech was running better since Lynn started working on it.

She shrugged and took a sip from her beer – an imported Timbuqui Dark, the prices of which were already going through the roof – as Lynn crawled out from inside the Thor’s chest. She was scruffy and covered in grease and other unidentifiable stains, but seemed to be enjoying herself. “Ok, so I think I got a few things under control.” She began as she cracked open a fresh can of Pharaoh, taking a swig from the pyramidal can. “I fixed a couple a fluid leaks that y’all had in there, bound ‘em up with a buncha tape and stuff. Ya’ll should be seein’ the diff already.”

“Thanks.” Sandra offered a wry smile, not wanting to think about Lynn’s methods, but acknowledging the results. “Hey, mind if I ask you a question?”

“Sure, why not?” The tech shrugged. “I mean, it ain’t like I know much, but heck, I can tell ya what I do.”

Sandra absent-mindedly rubbed the scar under her right eye socket. “It’s painfully obvious that I was a replacement for someone else. Levisha said that it was a surprise that nobody died in that last op. And I think she was actually being honest for once.”

Lynn nodded. “Yeah, people die a lot round here.” There was no admission, just a simple statement of fact.

“So, then,” Sandra continued. “Is it worth asking about my predecessor?”


Oberon IV
Wolf Clan Occupation Zone
3 March 3068


“So what do we have, Chinese?”

The squat Uziel twisted its turret-like torso around, the mech searching the area. While part-hidden behind a wall of rocks, the mech was still visible from the Lancelot’s cockpit. Out here, it was hard not to be; a parched plain punctuated by only by the odd rocky outcropping, the area was as stark and barren as possible. The only thing of any interest for kilometres around was the partially-ruined building, a once-grand structure made of stark grey stone that had clearly fallen into disrepair.

“That’s Grimm’s summer palace.” Reg replied, his tone certain and more than a little enthusiastic. “It matches not only with the map refs, but also with the historical data and file photos. Trust me, I can spot a touched up photo in my sleep, and I see no immediately obvious deception here. And since the Grimm family were only minor players in the conspiracy, they weren’t granted the same degree of-”

“So it’s the right place, Chinese.” Jake shot back with a hint of impatience. “Thanks.”

Ricardo Esposito nodded to himself inside the cockpit of his Battlemech. “What else do we have?”

“There’s a star of Wolf Mechs present.” Levisha spoke up, her mech standing next to his as they watched the area. “I can’t make out specifics, but profiles suggest mostly medium-weight, second-line designs. Nothing out of the ordinary for this world.”

“But still odd that they’d be guarding a tumbledown palace of no value in the middle of nowhere, French.” Garret finished. “Very interesting.”

“Got it in one.” She replied, satisfaction obvious in her tone.

“Well, I have my own ideas.” Reg spoke up. “While the Grimms were minor players, they still had some value. And they didn’t have the time to move everything when the Clans came. I’m wagering that there’s something juicy in there and the Wolves know it.”

“Shut up, Chinese.” Jake muttered.

“No, he has a point, Italian.” Ricardo spoke up, looking over the rest of the lance. “The Wolves have something there, and that something is why we came to this rock.”

“If they’re aware of our presence, they don’t seem to be making any hostile moves yet.” Reg observed. “Probably calling command to get reinforcements or orders for what to do next.”

“Which would suggest that we should strike now while the pups are still making their minds up.” Levisha finished.

“Agreed.” Esposito switched channels. “Relic Raiders, Theodolite Men, this is Iron Lance lead. Site is protected and likely objective. We will strike first; move in when enemy is committed.”

“Roger that.” Theodolite Man’s voice came back over the command channel. “Will stand by.”

Ricardo’s Lancelot looked around the lance again. “Italian, you’re with me down the middle. Chinese and French will take the right flank and try and draw the enemy off from the objective. All clear?” A chorus off affirmative replies shot back. “Good. Iron Lance, move!”

The slender Lancelot burst from cover the hulking, boxy form of the Rampage joining it. The two mechs surged forward, long legs and heavy footfalls churning up the desert floor as they bore down on the tumbledown palace. In the distance, Ricardo could make out the Goshawk and Uziel taking the flank, looping around to box in their enemies. A Rim Worlds mech and a Steel Viper one? Those wolves should be good and confused by now.

One of the mechs, a rust-brown Griffin IIC reacted first, charging towards the oncoming attackers. At extreme ranges, the Clan weapons held a slight advantage, one that Iron Lance’s speed should compensate for swiftly. As they closed, the Griffin struck first, the laser in its chest reaching out with a searing green beam, stark against the pale blue sky.

The shot struck the Lancelot in the centre of the head, coring through the cockpit before continuing out the other side. Deprived of its pilot’s control, the mech simply tipped forwards, crashing to the desert floor in a cloud of sand.


“Naw, probably not.” Lynn finished.

Author of BattleCorps stories Grand Theft Agro and Zero Signal

Whenever you use terms like 'fiat' or 'stupid pills', you render your argument invalid

How to Draw MegaMek Icons the Deadborder Way


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Re: Tales of the Mimetic Badarses
« Reply #1 on: 24 February 2011, 15:39:25 »
Well the retirement plan is a good starting point to begin contract negotiations at, where do I sign up/ Nice work and thanks for sharing.
May no one ever know less then me......


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Re: Tales of the Mimetic Badarses
« Reply #2 on: 25 February 2011, 00:17:04 »
Well the retirement plan is a good starting point to begin contract negotiations at, where do I sign up/ Nice work and thanks for sharing.

Retirement benefits? More like "next of kin".
Why does everyone "Fire at Will"? Is he really that bad of a person? And what did he do to make everyone want to shoot him?

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Re: Tales of the Mimetic Badarses
« Reply #3 on: 25 February 2011, 02:21:52 »
Good to see the Mimetic BadButs still around.
Those Retirement benefits are actually free Funeral Benefits.(Free cremation) }:)
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Re: Tales of the Mimetic Badarses
« Reply #4 on: 25 February 2011, 04:00:48 »
Instead of having full-head ejection systems the MBAs mechs have the ejection seat's booster rocket replaced with a heavy flamer aimed into the cockpit?
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