Author Topic: Good as Gold  (Read 13803 times)

Esskatze

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #30 on: 22 January 2019, 08:12:26 »
Oh, and one thing about the metallic unsheathing sound that Shinobu's katana supposedly makes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIYAmdQbQmE

It's actually a wooden clacking sound.

cklammer

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #31 on: 22 January 2019, 13:32:52 »
Very nice installments - loved them  :)

Just one question: why unload the gold as it is warm and dry inside the Charger: that way is not only potable as usual but it is portable, too.

Not it is comparatively visible for every Dick, Tom and Harry whilst being stuck inside a cargo hold.

Thieves and/or Customs go there first ...

Sir Chaos

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #32 on: 22 January 2019, 15:42:28 »
Very nice installments - loved them  :)

Just one question: why unload the gold as it is warm and dry inside the Charger: that way is not only potable as usual but it is portable, too.

Not it is comparatively visible for every Dick, Tom and Harry whilst being stuck inside a cargo hold.

Thieves and/or Customs go there first ...

Why would they go there first? NOBODY simply stores their gold in crates in the cargo bay - it´s way too obvious. So of course, thieves and/or Customs (those two probably overlap on many planets) wouldn´t ever bother looking there.
"Artillery adds dignity to what would otherwise be a vulgar brawl."
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"Ultima Ratio Regis" ("The Last Resort of the King")
- Inscription on cannon barrel, 18th century

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #33 on: 22 January 2019, 19:01:40 »
Me: Aw, nobody posting on my story [People post on my story, pointing out the mistakes and plot holes] No, not like this :'(

It's actually a wooden clacking sound.
Huh, Hollywood movies LIED TO ME  :o. Actually, this kind of comes in handy, as I'm kind of scribbling a non-BT story about Renaissance assassins, and I think this comes up. Cheers for the find, my dude.

Also, the action is supposed to kind of avalanche together from here on to the end, so it's all going to be a cliffhanger of one kind or another. That's more the structure of cutting back and forth among the viewpoint characters than any particular love for cliffhangers on my part.

Re: the unloading thing, while I'm not a big fan of the CinemaSins approach to entertainment consumption, my thinking was (A) that due to lack of trust among the crew, they'd want to keep it somewhere visible so no 1 person can sneak off with it, and (B) customs doesn't inspect military transports. That either works for you or not I guess?

***

15. Danica Smallwood

What?
Where?
How long have I been out?


White sheets. White walls. White light. That hurt, so she shut her eyes again. Shaking a little. Distant roaring. Odd. Come back to that in a moment. Focus. What had she seen? White sheets. A bed, she was in a bed. White walls. A bed, in a hospital. Right. The DropShip’s medical suite! She was in bed, in the Penny Wise’s medical suite, and everything was going to be okay.

Danica tried to move a hand to feel the wound, where she’d been shot, above the hip. And found she was strapped in. Zero-G restraints, used to keep patients in their beds during free-fall. Some idiot had tied them way too tight, though. She could barely move.

Another quiver ran through the ship, and the restraints rattled against the edge of the bed. Roaring, a steady growl. Engines. The DropShip’s engines. They were flying. Was it over then? Mission accomplished? Heading off for their next contract? Or fleeing before their former employers found them?

Danica risked opening her eyes again, just a slit. Xiao was beside the bed, strapped into an acceleration couch. Xiao! “Hey,” Danica croaked, then coughed. “Shouldn’t you be up on the bridge? Xixi? Xixi! Xixi, what’s happening?”

In the acceleration couch, Xiao twisted her neck to return Danica’s gaze, but didn’t reply. She looked pale, Danica thought, and—and there was a bruise on her cheek. Dried blood at one corner of her mouth. “Xixi?” She asked again, suddenly frightened.

Xiao shook her head, her eyes looking past Danica. Danica turned her neck, following the gaze. There, in the doorway to the medical suite, stood their new-found armor lance commander, Shahan Khitai. Leaning against the doorframe with one shoulder. Sharp little beard, dagger smile. “Ah, the patient is awake!” he smiled.

“Khitai, what the malking deep-fried low-fat malk is going on?”

“Change of plans,” he said. “Decided I liked being a captain more than a lieutenant, and being filthy rich more than being just very rich. Crew saw things my way, ‘cept for the captain here and one guy who tried to leg it with the gold.”

“Morton,” Xiao said flatly. “His name was Morton.”

Khitai shrugged the comment aside. “So, we’re on our way to Way. Ha ha. We’ll put down, offload the stuff onto our DropShip, and skip town with the rest of the Bandits before the Louies bury our former employers. Only question is, what to do with you once we get there.” He arched an eyebrow. “Any ideas?”

Danica swallowed, hard. Mind racing. “I’m a MechWarrior,” she said slowly.

“Yeah, true, but not like a noble one, so no chance of ransoming you,” Khitai scratched his beard thoughtfully. “I mean, we’ve got two MechWarriors, but only one ’Mech. Seems a little redundant, doesn’t it?”

“Zeke,” Danica said flatly, letting her tone do the heavy lifting.

“Not much of a MechWarrior,” Khitai agreed. “Still, not much of a ’Mech, is it?” He tapped his chin again. “You close with Gore?”

“Hardly,” Danica snorted. “The man is a wanted war criminal. Look him up: Sebastian Gordon, 3rd Marik Militia. The Berenson Burner, the Bastard of Bernardo. Nobody’s close to him.”

“Oh yeah? Huh. Such a quiet lad, last person you’d expect, never bothered the neighbors, etcetera. So, when we put down, I could use your help shifting the cargo onto our DropShip. Can I count on you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Danica lied. “Why not? The others are nothing to me.”

She ignored Xiao’s accusing glare, boring into the back of her head. Just kept her face expressionless while Khitai nodded, clucked his tongue and shot imaginary finger pistols at her. Even managed a smile in response. Sebastian was not the only one who could lie.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #34 on: 22 January 2019, 19:03:58 »
16. Ivetta Zlato

The Eye of the Storm
Getting Close to the End


The command center was chaos. Cadre commanders running in every direction, shouting conflicting orders at one another. DropShip inbound! Barsegh said it was one of theirs: Allow it to land! Shoot it down! Attackers in the tunnels: Retreat! Counterattack! Save the refugees! Save yourselves! Collapse the tunnels, blow them! No, keep them open! Ivetta gritted her teeth, drew her Nakjima pistol and fired a single shot into the ceiling.

Silence. Broken by the patter of blasted rock falling from the ceiling. A large piece landed on someone’s head. “Ow, shit!” he squeaked, then clapped a hand over his own mouth. Ivetta resisted the urge to shoot him for spoiling the drama of the moment.

“We knew this might happen,” she said. Silently cursing Mikayel, which wasn’t fair, and herself, which was. His commando raid had achieved little, at the cost of revealing the tunnels to their enemies. “We knew this day might come. We’re prepared for it. We stick to the plan. I want everyone we can spare in the tunnels, hold the pigs there. Dynamite only as a last resort. Fall back towards the spaceport when we have to—delay, delay, delay. Every Panther team is to strike—find an unguarded tunnel, hit targets of opportunity. Doesn’t matter what, we just need to keep them off-balance. Let the incoming DropShip land but keep it on the platform. Move every DropShip we have into launch position, get as many people onboard as we can. If the mercs object, deal with them.” She looked slowly about the room, making eye contact with each of them in turn. “I know what you all want. Ingress will be free, one day. Our job is to keep our people alive until then. Understood? Then you know what you need to do. So do it.”

She waited until the room had emptied before collapsing into a chair and putting her head in her hands. When she closed her eyes, she could picture what would be happening. Men and women in dark, narrow tunnels, basements and cellars, clawing and tearing at one another blindly, like worms, like rats, the high-tech wizardry of BattleMech, laser and missile giving way to the old methods, of bayonet and hand grenade, of tooth and claw and blade. She shuddered.

“Commandante,” whispered a voice at her side.

Ivetta opened her eyes, sat up straighter. Pushed those thoughts away, as though she could do that as easily as she pushed herself up from the chair. An aide stood nearby. “We must get you to safety, Commandante,” he said.

She could be first on the DropShip if she so ordered, of course. And there was a part of her that screamed at her to do just that, to run and hide and escape this planet forever. But no. The same arithmetic that had led her to abandon her calling and code to take up the mantle of their leader also dictated that she was responsible now for pulling something from the wreck. Numbers were are unforgiving as stars, and duty as heavy as the stone over her head.

“No,” Ivetta said simply, walking to her personal locker and palming it open. She unzipped and shucked off her jacket, and pulled out a bulky cooling vest from the locker. “Get my Companion Guards.” She bent, and retrieved a neurohelmet from the bottom of the locker. “We also have a job to do.”
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #35 on: 22 January 2019, 19:07:01 »
17. Mjolnir

95 Tons
285 Engine
20 Heat Sinks
1xAC/10 (3t ammo), 1xLRM15 (2t), 1xSMR6 (2t), 1xLarge Laser, 3xMedium Laser
Reactor online. Sensors online. Weapons online. All systems nominal.


There was almost a kilometer of open ground between the battered, blasted ruins of the city and the spaceport walls. The Mjolnir strode forward past the waiting Capellan militiamen, huddled in their trenches, swept past their advanced pickets without slowing, straining like a hound at its leash, eating up the distance between it and the wall about the spaceport with each thundering footfall.

The Penny Wise had touched dirt maybe 30 minutes ago. Unity knew if the crew was still alive, Liu or Dani. Oh yeah, or Zeke. And the gold.

The cockpit was filled with the excited babble of a dozen Capellan officers each try to talk over one another—“Are we attacking?” “We’re not supposed to attack for another hour!” “Well, what’s that then?” “We’re attacking!”—but Sebastian told the ‘Mech to ignore them, locked its sensors on the road ahead, and the tunnel that dipped below the spaceport wall.

The tactical computer beeped fretfully at Sebasitan as targeting sensors locked on to the Mjolnir, confetti-ing the HUD with markers of gun emplacements and crew-served weapons. The ground about the Mjolnir’s feet erupted in tiny puffs as a long-range autocannon opened fire. Sebastian tagged it, waited for the tone of a lock, and loosed a salvo of fifteen missiles. They arced up in synchronized trails, before plunging down and detonating along the wall, one after another, like a string of giant firecrackers.

The icons blipped form his HUD. Target eliminated, purred the ’Mech’s voice in his ear.

More guns were ranging in on him now, hits rattling against the armor like hailstones. Sebastian fired his missile rack as fast as it would reload, saw Shinobu firing his own volleys from the Dragon, Atom adding to the devastation with that impossibly accurate laser of his.

A hit on an ammunition pit blew its gun, along with a great chunk of the ferrocrete wall, meters in to the air. Atom’s laser sliced across another position, bisecting the gun and beheading its five-man crew. Soon, the entire rim of the wall was burning, blackened gun barrels twisted and pointing accusingly at the sky.

The Mjolnir’s speakers picked up a great rumble from behind; Sebastian snapped a look at the 360-degree monitor and saw an entire regiment of men pouring out of their trenches and charging after him. Six-wheeled APCs in the lead, each sheltering a duck line of infantrymen. Others shunning all over, simply sprinting after the BattleMechs, herded forward at pistol-point by their officers. One man had a giant Capellan battle flag, snapping bravely in the breeze as the standard-bearer charged forward.

The Mjolnir charged down a ramp, into the tunnel beneath the spaceport wall.

The rebels had parked a pair of towed Sniper artillery cannon into the tunnel, and pointed their barrels horizontally, right at the entrance to the tunnel. And fired the instant Sebastian’s Mjolnir appeared at the other end.

Sebastian only had a split second to register, react. Throw the Mjolnir sideways, fling the right arm up in front of the body.

The first shell blasted into the road just beside the Mjolnir, sending scything fragments of shrapnel tearing across the ‘Mech’s left side. The second impacted directly against the out-flung right arm. Savage yellow light bloomed and filled the tunnel, followed by a massive wall of furious black smoke.

Cheers were cut short as the dim light of the tunnel was throttled and squeezed out. Gunners coughed, choked, fought to wipe their eyes and squint through the gloom. They got him. Surely, they got him. A direct hit. They got him.

A great shadow lurched from the darkness. A four-clawed hand reached down and swatted the first cannon aside, throwing it against the side of the tunnel and burying most of its crew there. The crew of the second cannon frantically tried to reload, but the hand swept back, grabbed the barrel of the Sniper and twisted, and twisted, and twisted, until it was pointed uselessly up at the tunnel ceiling. A trio of lasers carved through the murk, and burned through the gun crew, burning them to blackened smears.

All targets eliminated. Did Sebastian detect a hint of triumph in its voice?

The Mjolnir emerged from the smoke, arm covered in tatters of armor, great lengths of titanium bone and muscle exposed, but still intact. It stood before the spaceport gates a moment, cocked its fist by its shoulder, then pistoned it into the gates. Again, and again and again.

Metal crumpled, bowed and bent, then gave way with a despairing shriek. The Mjolnir strode through, and into the Way spaceport.
« Last Edit: 23 January 2019, 03:22:34 by Dubble_g »
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

Dubble_g

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #36 on: 22 January 2019, 19:14:01 »
18. Bandit Harasser

25 Tons
120 Engine (ICE)
0 Heat Sinks
2xSRM6


“Yes, Colonel Barsegh. We’re almost ready here. I’ll signal Code Yukon when it’s time to move. Yes sir. Out.” Khitai thumbed off the communicator, and stuck it back on his belt. He’d deal with the Colonel later.

Five tons of short-range missile ammunition didn’t take up nearly as much space as 20 tons of precious metals, and wasn’t nearly so shiny. Still, they had a certain cold beauty, Khitai thought, as they nestled cozily against one another in the hold of the DropShip.

A simple thing, to rig a timer to one of the warheads. And leave it here, among its fellows. By the bulkhead, on the other side of which were the fuel tanks. A terrible, tragic accident of course, and everyone would assume the Associates and any gold they’d stolen had been blasted into superheated plasma. And Barsegh’s Bandits—perhaps renamed to Khitai’s Cavaliers?—would leave this fractious little murder-world to throttle itself to death, and sail off into space with none the wiser.

He’d left Zeke with a fresh pipe. Ah the irony. The man himself would be carbon in a few minutes.

“All right,” he told his men. “Let’s move. Don’t want to be anywhere near when these fireworks go off.” The others chuckled in appreciation, and jogged towards the five waiting Harassers. The Banshee was also waiting outside, with its new pilot. Khitai hadn’t told her about the surprise. He just needed a little more, to help move the goods to the Barsegh’s DropShip. After that, well. Not like their DropShip had room for a ’Mech. She’d be deadweight.

Khitai jumped up onto the skirts of his tank, clambered over to the commander/gunner’s cupola and slid down, so he was standing on the chair, his upper body still outside. He tapped the toe of his boot against back of the driver’s helmet. “Tick tock, time is money,” he said. Signaled to the other tanks, make a circular helicopter motion, then pointing towards the underground hangar. Move out.

The hovertanks began to move, the Banshee and its cargo lumbering along behind.

He switched to the Bandits’ comm channel. “Colonel Barsegh, this is Captain Khitai. We are moving into position. Code: Yukon.”

“All units, pull back, pull back,” sent Barsegh. “Regroup at the DropShip we are bugging out. Bandit One, prepare for immediate launch.”

All about the spaceport, tanks, SPAA guns and LRM carriers stirred to sudden life, belching black smoke as their engines engaged and began to tractor out of their pillbox positions. Ignoring the frantic shouts of the FIA soldiers nearby. At the panel by his feet, Khitai’s comm buzzed with heated demands for answers. He smiled, and used the toe of his boot to stab the Mute button.

They were halfway to the hangar when the first missiles fell on the perimeter wall. A string of explosions fireballed into the sky, taking with them the remains of at least one cannon and the flailing figures of half a dozen suddenly airborne men.

At the same time, an ant-swarm of people emerged from the hangar ramp ahead of them. Some armed and in uniform, but many not. Elderly, children, some with meager bags of possessions strapped to their backs or clutched under their arms. An officer stood on the back of a jeep, yelling at Khitai through a megaphone.

“What the hell—” He was interrupted by another series of thumping explosions from the perimeter. “Get back in position!”

Khitai cupped his hands to yell back. “Orders! Defending the DropShips!”

“What? Nobody told me!” the man hesitated. He cringed as a staccato series of explosions echoed across the ferrocrete. That seemed to decide things for him. “Out the way! We’re commandeering that DropShip!”

Khitai looked over his shoulder, at where the Penny Wise still sat on the ferrocrete landing pad. Glanced down at his timepiece. Well, their funeral. “Of course,” he said, with a smile and sweep of his arm. “She’s all y—oh frack.”

From the other side of the DropShip, three BattleMechs came lumbering from the shadows of the mouth of the gate tunnel.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #37 on: 22 January 2019, 19:20:14 »
19. Dragon

60 Tons
300 Engine
10 Heat sinks
1xAC5 (2 tons ammo), 1xLRM10 (2t), 2xMedium Laser


Shinobu tried to make sense of what he was seeing. The enemy armor was completely out of position. They had all abandoned their prepared firing positions, and were rolling back towards one of the two great ramps that led to the subterranean hangars. The great blast doors at the bottom of both ramps stood open, and from them poured a flood of people. A split-second scan told him what his stomach already knew.

Tai-i! Commander!” he called to Gore. “Minkanjin! Civilians! Hold your fire!”

Belatedly, the turrets of a dozen tanks were swinging towards them, heedless of the frantic crowds of people—panicking, running in every direction, some throwing themselves flat—that swarmed between the tanks and the BattleMechs. “Tell that to them!” Sebastian snarled.

Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #38 on: 22 January 2019, 19:22:23 »
20. Banshee brackets Modified brackets

95 Tons
380 Engine
10 Heat sinks
1xSmall Laser, 22 tons cargo


Unity, the cockpit stank of smoke. Danica breathed through her mouth. Still felt the acrid taste. Unity. Probably getting buzzed herself off the week-old fumes. Zeke, that catastrophic jump failure. That lardy tub of Steiner boot polish. What a nightmare.

She was looking for her chance. Chances seemed reluctant to show, though. The Bandits had over a dozen tanks on the landing field, plus Khitai’s five: four Bulldogs, six Partisans, four LRM carriers. Enough to pulp even a Banshee, if she made a break for it. Think. Think. She needed a plan. She plodded along behind the five Harassers. Think.

Her battle computer began beeping frantically for her attention. Something behind her. The 360 view highlighted clouds of comet-tailed fireflies, that fell to earth in red blossoms of death. An attack. The tanks in around her stuttered to a confused, jumbled halt. And now people were pouring out onto the ferrocrete, a river, a flood, a rising tide, rushing straight towards her. Probably couldn’t run now without splattering half a neighborhood worth of them. She eased the Banshee to a stop.

“Danica, get to the DropShip, now,” Khitai barked. “Shift that throttle. Move, you whore, move!”

She was about to tell Khitai where he could stick his throttle, when her taccom chimed again. A different tone this time. For when the IFF tagged a friendly unit. An she saw the three BattleMechs rise from the ground, like spirits of the dead seeking vengeance.

“Zeke?” Sebastian’s voice filled her earphones.

She gave a shout of joy. She’d kill Seb for calling her Zeke later, for now there was only one hundred percent, pure, 24-carat gold relief. “Seb, it’s Danica, I’ve got Zeke’s ride. He’s on the DropShip. Come on, before the rebels try to board her!”

She backpedaled, away from the crowd, ignoring Khitai’s outraged screams, and swung towards the Penny Wise.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #39 on: 22 January 2019, 19:25:03 »
21. The Penny Wise

Modified Seeker Class
3,900 tons
L/W/H: 90/90/89m
Safe/Max Thrust: 2.5/4g
Crew: 20 (+300 bay personnel as required)
Cargo: Transport bays & accommodations for 4 BattleMechs, 28 light vehicles, 3 platoons of infantry


“Hey Liu!”

The crew had been locked in their cabins, but Khitai had left her on the bridge, bound to the captain’s chair. A final act of petty humiliation, she’d thought, forcing her to watch on the external monitors as he slipped away with the gold. Leaving her here with her own dark thoughts, in silence.

Silence now broken.

A chubby, bearded face appeared on the communications panel. The man appeared to still be wearing his pajamas. “Hey Liu!” Zeke called again. “Where is everyone? Where’s Khitai? Just went down to cargo, and there’s nothing there but a stack of missiles.”

Liu was on the point of telling him where he could stick the missiles, then. Thought. Eyes flicking to the screen showing the hovertanks, idling at the foot of the DropShip. Khitai just now slipping into the cupola of the lead machine. Why leave the ammo? “Show me,” she barked. “Zeke, get your asphyxiated ass out the monitor so I can see behind you.”

Zeke pouted. “Jeez, friendly.” But slumped to one side, letting Liu see beyond him, into the cargo hold. And the rows upon rows of missiles, gleaming almost wetly, obscenely. Staring back at her like a thousand dead, accusing eyes. One warhead sat atop the pile, slightly askew, not sitting in lockstep with all its brothers and sisters.

“Unity…” Liu whispered to herself, then screamed. “Zeke!” she yelled, straining against her bonds with every fiber, every muscle, making her body a bow, taunt against her feet and wrists. “Zeke! You contractual small print. You unexpected jump error. You fuel surcharge. Get your fat, foggy-brained ass up here!”

She counted the seconds. “Hurry, hurry, hurry.” On the external monitors, she saw the column of hovertanks slow, as it met a flood of civilian cars, trucks, and people on foot coming streaming the other way, escorted by a handful of jeeps with pintle-mounted machineguns. Other screens showed explosions, the dull booms penetrated through the DropShip’s hull. As if that was a signal, the crowd parted to allow the hovertanks to pass, and then surged towards the Penny Wise.

“Oh no. Oh Unity no.”

Zeke fell head over flannelled heels through the doorway and into the bridge. He jerked up, looking around in panic. “Liu? What’s happening? Where is everybody? What’s going on?”

“Zeke,” Liu fought to keep her voice level and reasonable. No time to ask him to undo the restraints. Unity knew how long they had—every second mattered. “I’ve got a kilo of smoke for you, if you can just do me one favor.”

That brought his head around like a heat-seeking missile. “Yeah? Yeah! Anything!”

She nodded at the control panel in front of her. “There’s three toggle switches, right there, see them, all in a row. Just flip them all up. That’s right. Yes, yes, I know, don’t mind the red flashing lights. A kilo of smoke, Zeke. OK, now see that lever over there? One with the three bars? Right. That’s the one. Just slide that one up to the top of its range, would you? There’s a dear.”

Red light flooded the bridge, and a deafening siren began to wail. The ship began to shake, and a keening noise began, starting low, rising to a howl that drowned out even the blaring alarm.

“What? What? WHAT?” Zeke screamed, clapping his hands over his ears.

“Nothing dear, it’s—” Liu slumped against the couch. Now, all she could do was pray they’d been in time. “GOOD JOB, ZEKE. MIGHT WANT TO STRAP IN.”

“WHAT? WHY?”

And then there was a kick from below, like being hit in the ass by an Awesome.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #40 on: 22 January 2019, 19:27:42 »
22. The Bomb

5 tons SRM6 ammunition (450 missiles)
Tick tock, tick tock


The Penny Wise’s engines roared to life, jerking it aloft almost reluctantly at first, belching storm clouds of vapor into the cooling pool under the launch pad. The howl of the thrusters drowned out the sound of combat, and the noise of it hit like physical force. Desperate refugees who had been running towards the ship now scrambled back in horror. It wobbled into the sky, then seemed to grow in power and confidence, hurtling higher and higher, riding its bright pillar of fire. Taking the bomb inside with it.

Bombs are simple things with simple desires. The timer wishes to count down the time. It wishes for three seconds to be followed by two, then one, and then zero. The detonator wishes to detonate. The timer sent it a signal, letting it know it was time to fulfill its purpose. The 450 stacked micro-missiles wished to explode. When the detonator went, they were only too happy to follow.

Even the lightest DropShip is well-armored, and their diamond-hard skins are very good at preventing bombs, or lasers or particle beams or shells for that matter, from penetrating from the outside. By that same token, they are also very good at ensuring that any explosion inside cannot easily escape outside, and instead expends all its energy on the cargo compartments, engine mountings, crew decks and bridge, and anyone unlucky to occupy them at the time.

Here is how it looked on the outside: The gargantuan thrusters guttered once, twice and then went out. A microsecond later, every gunport and ferroglass screen blew out in half a hundred jets of flame. One engine mount blew free, fired a nanosecond burst with the remaining fuel still sloshing in its feed lines, and flew erratically off on a nearly perpendicular course. A small cylinder leaped from the side of the ship. Glowing cracks criss-crossed its great hull. It began to lose altitude, spinning helplessly, tumbling end over end.

Then the fuel caught, and exploded. A new sun appeared in the sky over Ingress, annihilating the tiny ship caught in its center.

Thin gossamer clouds were visibly blown across the sky in a wide halo. Whatever windows had miraculously remained intact in Way City shattered. The blast was heard as far away as the town of Short, where grey-faced farmers looked at one another and wondered: What now? The bright glow was seen as far away as Anchor City and the HPG station, where a ComStar Adept shielded her eyes with a hand.

A thunderstorm was coming, but the first thing to fall on Way City was a rain of twisted and carbonized metal plates, and the microscopic remains of the crew. Nothing more than dust, falling like a fine and gentle rain.
« Last Edit: 23 January 2019, 03:32:18 by Dubble_g »
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

cklammer

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #41 on: 23 January 2019, 01:57:38 »
Wow, hard-core awesome.

Told you: unloading is a bad move  :)

re: the posting of stuff: sow wind, reap storm and all that. I'll be quiet now  ;D

Dubble_g

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #42 on: 23 January 2019, 03:27:58 »
re: the posting of stuff: sow wind, reap storm and all that. I'll be quiet now  ;D

Naw, I'm laughing at myself up there. Go ahead, let me know when I screw up.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

Esskatze

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #43 on: 23 January 2019, 16:40:31 »
You never do. To this day, you haven't posted an actually bad story, neither here nor on your website. Keep 'em coming, and pls don't mistake any future silence for something other than breathless anticipation.

Dubble_g

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #44 on: 23 January 2019, 21:50:19 »
Thanks Esskatze, very kind of you to say so. I'm happier with the way some turned out than others, with some aspects of my writing than others, but maybe every writer does? One thing's for sure though ... I need a ****** copy editor. Or new pair of eyes. Sigh.

***

23. The Mercenaries

“Xixi!” Danica screamed. “Xiao! Xiao!” She watched open-mouthed as fragments of the DropShip began to fall, like embers from an explosion of fireworks. “Xiao,” the scream fading to a whimper. Horror melting into grief. And then rage. “Khitai! Khitai you son of a turd! Seb, Khitai blew up the ship!”

There was an LRM carrier by the Banshee’s foot. She raised the foot, then brought it slamming down on the carrier, flattening the front third and mashing it right into the ferrocrete. The back two-thirds jutted up at a surprised angle.

She was hit from the front and back by laser beams. The Bulldog tanks, backing frantically away from her, scoring ugly lines of melted armor with their lasers and pumping out volleys of missiles. She ignored them, throwing the Mech forwards, charging right for the line of Harasser tanks.

Belatedly they realized the threat, their fans howled, rising up the scale to high-pitched wails, sluggishly moving them, then faster. Not fast enough. Danica pounced on the lead tank, grabbed it in both hands, one on either side of the tank, and lifted it high into the air, over the Banshee’s head. Then flung it straight down into the ground, Khitai screaming on the comms channel, as it hit, flattened, and burst into flames.

*

Sebastian saw the DropShip erupt. His DropShip. His crew.

He heard Danica’s screamed message, and saw her BattleMech become the center of a cyclone of laser and cannon fire. “Shinny, Atom, go for the tanks!” Three medium lasers and a flight of missiles turned the nearest LRM carrier into a column of enraged smoke and flame. The large laser savaged a Partisan, slagging sheets of armor. Not enough. He fired the shoulder autocannon, spending the long-hoarded shells, watched them tear through the Partisan and leave it a smoking wreck.

Laser fire blazed back in answer, but at least it gave Danica breathing room. “Fall back, Dani!” She was busy stamping a Harasser into its component atoms. “Fall back!”

Shinobu’s Dragon was beside him, hammering at a Partisan, forcing it to break off from the Banshee and face him instead.

Atom was—where the frack—Atom had fallen behind. The Shootist stood over a pack of fleeing civilians. It looked down at them, like a giant choosing a snack. 

*

Atom ignored all the screaming back and forth over the comms. The bright flash that filled the sky was a little bit like a solar heating diagram, but he didn’t have time for that. The ship didn’t factor in the plans, and its loss didn’t really matter. The only thing that mattered was Zlato, and he didn’t see her anywhere. He slid through sensor overlays to pierce the thick vapor still clinging to the launch pad from the DropShip’s engines. No BattleMechs, only irrelevant tanks and hundreds scurrying little people.

Zlato’s people. Atom smiled to himself, realizing what he had to do to draw her out.

He flicked the weapons selector, arming the two pulse lasers, and lowered the crosshairs. The Shootist bowed a little at the waist, as though in prayer. Atom fired.

Vivid green light pierced the grey, and scythed among the people on the ferrocrete. Bodies were instantly burned to black marks on the ground. “Opposite poles attract,” Atom said to himself. “Come meet your opposite, Zlato.”

He fired again into the fleeing backs of a dozen more people.

Something huge slammed into the side of the Shootist. The world tilted, then came rushing up to meet him. The impact flung him sideways in the restraints and nearly snapped his neck.

The cockpit fell into shadow. A Dragon loomed over Atom, blocking out the light, the pitiless cavern of its autocannon yawning in his face.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #45 on: 23 January 2019, 21:51:59 »
24. Freedom for Ingress Alliance

Ivetta Zlato stretched her neck, first right then left, then grasped the control yokes, feeling the titanic power respond to her touch. The comms babbled nonsense—BattleMechs were inside the perimeter, armor falling back, abandoning their posts, DropShip shot down, armor engaging, BattleMechs slaughtering people, BattleMechs fighting each other—she eventually gave up trying to make sense of it and shut off everything but her team’s channel.

“Follow me, stick close. Keep the runways clear and protect the transports.” Already, the first commandeered DropShip was taxying from its berth. A Condor, once home to Arshad’s Avengers, now packed with over a thousand refugees. A pair of Fury DropShips ready to go after it. She’d seen her men dragging Colonel Barsegh’s bloodied corpse by its feet from his Triumph DropShip. That would be the last to go.

“Consider all mercenaries as hostile. Frack it, shoot anything that isn’t us. Let’s go!”

Before her, the monolithic hangar doors groaned open, as though carving apart the darkness to find the sky. The blue above them glittered with strobing lasers and lazy streams of tracers. Above all, the billowing cloudburst of the destroyed DropShip. Like the judging eye of a god. Zlato muttered a prayer, though she felt her continued existence was a strong argument against the existence of the divine. It was very, very hard for her to believe in heaven at that moment.

The other place, now, that she had no trouble believing in. It was right in front of her.

“Welcome to hell.” She palmed the throttle all the way forward, and moved forward with earth-shaking strides.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

Dubble_g

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #46 on: 23 January 2019, 21:56:23 »
25. The Capellan Confederation

“Sir, 2nd Division has launched an attack on the spaceport. One reinforced regiment, with armor and the BattleMechs.”

“What?” Mandrinn-Colonel Ghaukas Karayan, commander of the 3rd division, was livid. “That’s MY spaceport. If that frakker thinks I’m going to sit still while he grabs all the best real estate, he’s got another think coming. Get me Leyan!”

“Sir—” a white-faced comms tech shot to her feet at her desk. “Sir, the second’s headquarters, sir. They aren’t responding.”

Karayan’s eyes went viperous. “So that’s his game, eh?” He slammed a palm down on the map table in front of him. “Order the 33rd to attack the spaceport!”

*

The political commissar stood atop the spaceport walls, waving the Capellan battle flag over his head, urging on the men. “Forward brothers! To victory!”

He was elated, ecstatic. Generally, commissars were despised, hated for reporting their fellow soldiers to the Maskirovka, for sitting safely behind the lines while others fight and die. He’d begun to hate himself. It was true, all they said was true: he was useless, a coward, poison in the regiment. But. He’d seen the standard-bearer fall, and known his moment had come. Charged forward, taken up the standard, and led the men on. Not hating or cursing him now, but roaring their encouragement, cheering him on. Five thousand men yelling his name. “Onward! For the regiment! For Ingress!”

He was yelling so loud he did not hear the click of the vibramine at his feet.

*

The pilot smiled, kissed the photo of her father and tucked it back inside her flight suit. Her wing of Guardian fighters was over the Leyan Winter Palace now, wide artificial lake and long buildings clearly visible beneath the rim of her cockpit glass. It was the day she’d long waited and prepared for. It was time.

She eased off the throttle, dipped a wing and slid behind her Commander. Ignoring his waspish demand for her to get back in position. And his enraged shout when he realized her tracking system had locked onto his tailpipe. She fired a salvo of six micro-missiles, and his fighter blew apart in midair.

“Long live the FIA,” she whispered. “Freedom for Ingress.”

The other four fighters were reacting now, pulling up and curving around to get their noses on her, but it didn’t matter. She flipped inverted, pulled back on the stick, and went into a vertical dive. The winter palace filled her forward view. She had time to fire off one final salvo, not bothering to aim. A little pavilion by the water disintegrated. The roof of the servants’ quarters blew off, shedding tiles and shingles across the courtyard. One missile landed by the BattleMech still parked there, but did no damage.

And then her fighter plunged like an arrow into the ceiling of the winter palace, almost directly above the map room of the 2nd militia division.

There were no survivors.

*

The Subcommander was knocked to the ground by the blast when the standard-bearer stepped on the mine. He sprang to his feet again, saw the legless man stare stupidly down at the stumps of his legs, shattered pole of the banner still clutched in his hands, then the eyes glazed over and the head slumped down.

Behind him, a crew of four wheeled their 40mm field gun to the top of the spaceport wall. “Sir? Sir? Orders sir?”

Below, it was chaos. Fumes from the DropShip launch still clung to the field, almost completely obscuring the view. People emerged from the smog, running in every direction, but the Subcommander had the presence of mind to realize they weren’t firing at anyone.

Above the drifting vapor, there was a long line of men crest the wall on the far side of the field. Armed men, with their own APCs, cannons and heavy weaponry. Reinforcements, but whose? Theirs, or the enemy’s? “Comms!” he snapped. “Get me the division! Are any other units attacking?”

The comms officer shook her head in disgust. “Can’t raise HQ at all.”

The Subcommander chewed his lip a second. Then pointed at the men. “There’s your target. Fire!”

*

It was a shame the Commander of the 3rd division wasn’t stupider, or a coward.

A coward might have panicked and run when fired on by friendly forces. A stupid one might have hesitated, paralyzed, and waited for instructions. But alas, the Commander was brave and bright. Bright enough to understand the rivalry between the Leyan and Karayan families, and to know that whoever held the city at the end of the fighting would likely be awarded control of it. Bright enough to know Leyan was currently unstable after the death of his daughter, perhaps not acting rationally. And bright enough to know she might be rewarded for protecting the Karayan family interests.

So when shells obviously fired from the 2nd division positions began to fall among her men, she did not panic. Nor wait for instructions. “Those traitors!” she yelled. “All guns, target the 2nd division positions. Fire!”
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

Dubble_g

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #47 on: 23 January 2019, 22:03:25 »
26. Praise

“Shinny, what the frack are you doing?”

“He fired on the people—” began Shinobu, and then his view spun.

One moment the Dragon was standing over Atom, poised to shoot, then next it was reeling backwards, A gaping hole blown in its side. After-images flashed in Atom’s eyes, of something cannoning into the Dragon’s side with terrific force.

Despite everything he felt happy then, because he knew what that meant. Atom pushed the Shootist to one knee, then got it back on its feet.

A giant strode from the ramp leading down to the DropShip hangars. Three more followed in its wake, but Atom had eyes only for the leader. A squat head sat atop an angular torso bristling with weapons, over massive elephantine legs. The maw of a giant cannon jutted from the right arm. Atom’s BattleMech identified it immediately, of course. He felt a thrill. Like a boxer before the title fight, like a mountaineer catching sight of the summit.

Levato had promised him this time would come. Atom remembered her words to him, repeated them like a mantra. “You are the instrument of Blake’s will!” She would be so proud of him. He’d show her!

The new BattleMech pointed the cannon at the Banshee next, and fired. Whoomp. Crack. A blur of silver smacked into the Banshee’s left shoulder, punching through and out the other side, tearing the entire arm assembly free with a hideous crack. The Banshee was partly spun around, tottering, nearly losing its balance.

“What hit me?” yelled Danica.

“Unity knows,” said Sebastian. “What the frack is that?”

“It is called a Highlander,” Atom replied. They others had left their unit channel open, letting him overhead every word. “It is Zlato. I will deal with her.”

“Be my freaking guest,” Sebastian snarled back, as the other three BattleMechs fanned out: A Firestarter, a Shadow Hawk and a JagerMech. “She’s all yours bub.”

Zlato, however, had other ideas. A pillar of superheated air bloomed under her BattleMech, and vaulted it into the air. “What, where’d it go?” Danica called.

Sebastian tried to track it with his laser, beam slicing the air beneath the monster’s feet. “Move Dani, move!”

The Highlander came roaring down, plunging from the sky, to take the Banshee’s swollen, jury-rigged hump with both feet. The Banshee was rammed face-first to the ferrocrete, with a sound like the earth shattering. The hump was smashed open, spilling a landslide of half-melted gold, palladium, platinum and iridium across the ground.

The Highlander took a step back, as though suspected a trick.

A mistake. You hesitate, you die. Atom yelped with joy and threw his Shootist forward, firing everything he had. Pulse lasers stuttered and pock-marked the Highlander’s arm and leg armor, while the torso laser carved an ugly long glowing line across its chest. Then the autocannon was roaring, chopping away huge chunks out of its side.

He sang Levato’s mantra as he fought: “You are the shield against the unbelievers! You are the light that banishes darkness!” Proud, so very proud. “F brackets B minus F brackets A! V minus E plus F equals two!”

Zlato backpedaled, fired, and jumped again. The gauss slug whipped by, missing by meters, bouncing off the ferrocrete to go cannoning into one of the spaceport buildings, bringing down a wall. Laser and missile fire peppered his ’Mech, but it was nothing. Blake was with him. He tracked her, pulse lasers stabbing at the Highlander’s legs, melting away more armor. Then, when she hit the ground, in the moment before she recovered, he brought the autocannon into play again, shells cracking and tearing at the torso.

“You are the final word in Blake’s argument! You are the answer to heretics that doubt! You are a big strong boy!”

Zlato’s next slug hammered into the chest and rattled Atom in the cockpit, making him bite his tongue. He savored the iron taste of blood.

His endless mantra was drowned out as a Condor DropShip crested the edge of the landing ramp and ignited its main engines.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

cklammer

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #48 on: 24 January 2019, 06:45:57 »
Wow, dubble_g, you are really lighting both ends of many candles here - super!  ;D :thumbsup: 8)

Dubble_g

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #49 on: 24 January 2019, 19:05:21 »
Wow, dubble_g, you are really lighting both ends of many candles here - super!  ;D :thumbsup: 8)
The idea was to have a kind of diamond format to the story--branching out from the start, and then having all those branches come together at the end: the A plot with Zlato, the B plot with the gold and the C background detail about noble squabbling & self-aggrandizing.

***
27. Glory

War wants only one thing. One way or another, it gets what it wants.

A two-man crew from the 2nd division heaved a heavy recoilless rifle onto its tripod, loaded and aimed and fired at one of the 3rd division’s APCs, punching a fist-sized hole in the turret. They cheered, then screamed as the Firestarter leaped on its jets, then came down almost on top of them, lashing the ground with long tongues of flame.

Danica Smallwood, pounded the inert controls in rage, frustration in fear. The Banshee was dead, its gyro crushed, its spine broken.

A Bulldog lined up an easy kill on the head of the downed BattleMech, when its forward viewport was filled with the barrel bulk of a JagerMech. Four streams of shells whipped into the tank, holing it in a dozen places. The crew tried to scramble out the hatches, but were cut down in bursts of deadly fire from the ’Mech’s waist lasers.

Sedbastian ran forward to cover Danica, shield her downed machine bodily with his own. The JagerMech ignored him, focusing on the kill. Sebastian swung the crosshairs over the back of the ’Mech, and squeezed every trigger. Four lasers hissed out, melting armor and causing to hang loose in leprous sheets, exposing the bones and muscle within. The autocannon vomited a stream of dual-purpose killers into the gaps, tearing out the heart of the BattleMech, finding the autocannon magazine. A vast jet of flame burst from the back of the ’Mech, followed by a huge detonation that obliterated the top half, leaving only the legs standing.

“Seb, behind you!” Danica’s instruments were out, but nothing was wrong with her eyes. Sebastian twisted the Mjolnir around, as the Firestarter behind him cut loose with lasers, machineguns and flamers. Fire lapped around the legs of the Mjolnir, across the armor of the supine Banshee, and the mountains of metal still piled there. Danica screamed as the flames crawled across her viewscreen, like demons looking for a way in.

Hearing that scream snapped something inside Sebastian. The Mjolnir lurched forward, scooped up the Banshee’s severed arm and, wielding it like a club, smashed it across the front of the Firestarter. It staggered back a step. He hit it again with the backswing, snapping the head unit around, driving it back another step. Its machineguns fired, like a gazelle kicking against a lion’s jaws. An overhead blow drove it to its knees. Sebastian’s lips were pulled back, nothing coherent coming from his lips. The Mjolnir raised its club high, and brought it whistling down, smashing the Firestarter’s head into a pulped mass of metal and blood.

Shinobu wrenched the Dragon back to its feet, searching for the BattleMech that had hit him, and for the murderer. Atom. The butcher. Spotted him, chasing after the unknown BattleMech, forcing it slowly backwards towards the DropShip hangar. Shinobu started forward when a proximity alarm began to wail at him. He stifled a curse, pulling the throttle desperately backwards. The Dragon backpedaled, just as a mighty Condor DropShip came hurtling past, slow but gathering momentum every second. It blew past, and the backwash of its engines threatened to knock the Dragon down again.

When it was past, Shinobu found himself face-to-face with the Shadow Hawk, standing on the other side of the runway. A worthy opponent, but a distraction. Where was Atom? He fired the autocannon, missing as the Shadow Hawk crouched, gritted his teeth as answering laser and cannon fire chipped at his armor. A warning light flashed on his control panel, cheerily informing him of damage to the comm system. His own lasers blazed, cut white-hot streaks in his enemy.

The Shadow Hawk pilot must have known his advantage would lie in pressing the attack, closing the range, where he could use his jets to work around the Dragon. He edged forward and Shinobu backed up, trying for a missile lock. Fired anyway, but over half the missiles simply shot past. The Shadow Hawk fired again. A lucky laser shot caught the Dragon’s weakened knee armor, and made Shinobu stagger.

The Shadow Hawk rushed forward.

The bullet nose of a Fury DropShip powering up to escape velocity rammed into the Shadow Hawk, tearing it into metallic confetti and dismembered limbs. It simply was there one second, smeared across the DropShip’s nose the next. The Fury’s wingtip came a meter from cutting through the Dragon. It roared down the runway, still gathering speed, and lumbered into the air.

Shinobu stared at the spot it had occupied, open mouthed, until a rattle of small-arms fire against the armor shook him out of it. He saw, without much surprise, that it was his own side firing at him. Militiamen who couldn’t tell two BattleMechs apart had assumed he was the enemy. Shinobu fired a laser blast over their heads, throwing them cowering to the ground, then swept around, looking for the others. Lost groups of people were still huddled here and there on the field, largely ignored by the militiamen, who all seemed to be rushing towards the downed form of the Banshee, heedless of cover or formation or the flames still lapping the BattleMech, or of anything really, anything but that pot of gold at the end of a multicolored, metallic rainbow leaking from the Banshee’s innards.

Shinobu saw one man stop and aim his rifle at a family. A short spurt of laser fire disintegrated him.

Of Atom and his opponent there was no sign, but it was easy to guess where they had gone. Gore’s Mjolnir was thundering towards the hangar, too. In pursuit? Shinobu tried to follow after, but the Dragon’s weakened knee squealed in protest, moving only in spastic fits and starts. He tried to get a channel to Gore, but all he could get was a digeridoo rush of static.

Grimly, Shinobu limped after. It was time to end this.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

Dubble_g

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #50 on: 24 January 2019, 19:10:12 »
28. Justice

Atom’s best strategy was to stick close to the Highlander, grab it by the belt and rabbit punch with the autocannon and pulse lasers, while Zlato’s missiles and gauss rifle would have a harder time locking on. She kept backing up and he kept following, step by step, forcing her down the ramp, into the DropShip hangar. That was good, too. Low roof meant her jump jet advantage was cancelled out, too.

Zlato was caught like a … he couldn’t think of anything. The cockpit view bounced as Zlato landed a hit. Caught like a beam in a prism? His answering fire missed, tore a line like an earthquake fault in the hangar floor.

The hangar was empty now, just the two of them. It was an echoing steel cavern, with bays on either side for five DropShips, littered with hastily discarded boarding ramps, fuel storage tanks, cargo haulers and other detritus. The roof was supported by two rows of square, monolithic pillars, each almost as wide as a BattleMech.

Zlato sidestepped around a pillar. Trying to block his line of sight. Atom’s pulsing laser fire smacked into the column, slagging its surface in long lines. She must be hurting now, Atom smiled. He’d landed some solid hits with the autocannon, cracked off meters of armor plating at a time. Half the Highlander was now covered in runny, congealed metal from where his lasers had savaged her. Time to end this.

Atom threw the Shootist around the corner of the pillar. Blinked in surprise as a shovel-shaped fist came swinging straight towards the cockpit glass. He tried to jerk back, too slow, still got clipped on the side of the head, rocking the Shootist back a step.

He tried to swing the autocannon around but red lights began to flash, warning of overloaded actuators. The Highlander had a hand around the wrist of the Shootist’s right arm, slowly forcing it upwards by the sheer power of its greater mass. He fired anyway, uselessly, hitting the ceiling, bringing down a hail of man-sized metal shards.

Grunting, Atom tried to wrestle the arm away, alternately lurching forward then pulling back, trying to get the Highlander off-balance. But it was too big, full 20 tons heavier than his machine. Wouldn’t budge. Atom’s chest mounted laser kept firing, were burrowing through the gaps in the armor now, had to hit something vital sometime soon. Just a few more seconds.

He didn’t have seconds. Zlato brought her free arm down on the elbow of the Shootist’s imprisoned right arm, shearing through it, tearing off the end of the arm and the autocannon barrel, leaving a twitching mass of myomer snakes and shredded metal. The sudden release from the Highlander’s grasp caught Atom off-balance, and the Shootist fell crashing to its back.

Failed. He had failed. That was all he could think, as he watched the Highlander look at the severed arm, then carelessly throw it away. He’d failed Levato. But no, it wasn’t his fault. The Kuritan, Shinobu, had attacked him, weakened him before the fight. It was the Kuritan’s fault. Atom could have won, if not for him. Not his fault. Not fair.

He gritted his teeth, and waited for the end.

The Highlander, however, wasn’t looking at him. A new figure filled the hangar doorway, a black silhouette against the white light: Gore’s Mjolnir. It advanced slowly, deliberately. Fired four lasers that boiled into the Highlander. Zlato’s Mech staggered back. Gore fired again, forcing her back another step. Again, chopping into the shoulder, the knee, the hip.

Another step. Zlato fired back, her gauss shot crashing through the shoulder missile launcher, leaving it a broken ruin. Gore took another step, and fired. The Highlander bumped into the far wall of the hangar. Pinned there, nowhere left to go.

The gauss fired again, jerking the Mjolnir’s torso around with the force of impact, but Gore straightened, and came on again. Answering fire cut through the Highlander’s right arm, destroyed the gauss cannon with a final electric pop. Then hit the knee again, and the Highlander was falling, sprawled face-first on the ground.

The Mjolnir came to a halt beside the downed Shootist. “Now that’s done. You and I have a score to settle, Atom.”

Behind Gore, the head of the Highlander cracked open, and a figure jumped down to the ground. She sprinted for one of the tunnel exits. “Behind you, Gore!” Atom shouted. “The apostate is escaping!”

Gore cursed. Took a step forward, then turned back to Atom. “This ain’t over yet, big guy.” Then he also popped open his cockpit, slid down a ladder to the ground, and disappeared after Zlato.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #51 on: 24 January 2019, 19:14:37 »
29. Redemption

It was over by the time Shinobu’s limping BattleMech entered the hangar. The Shootist lay on its back, right arm missing below the elbow. The Highlander lay by the far wall, face-down, its surface a mass of metal scar tissue. The Mjolnir stood nearby, silent and immobile. Shinobu tried the comms again. No luck. Aborigine punk rock static. He smacked the control panel in frustration, when movement caught his eye.

Down there, by the Highlander. Someone had just entered a tunnel near the BattleMech’s foot.

Shinobu grabbed his sword, popped the door to the cockpit, slid down to the ground and sprinted into the tunnel. Just up ahead he saw someone running around a corner. Someone who nearly filled the corridor. Atom. Shinobu drew his wakizashi, crouched and dashed after him.

A short hallway, no sign of him. But still the sound of running feet. Shinobu hurried after. A T-junction. He listened. Sprinted left. It was a twisting maze, his prey always tentatively out of reach. The sounds of Atom’s footfalls grew fainter and fainter. Desperately, Shinobu put on a last burst of speed.

Shinobu belted around the corner, and slid to a halt. Atom was waiting for him. Standing perhaps 10 meters away. Blazer rifle held easily at the hip, a holstered needler pistol at his waist.

Atom’s face was troubled. “Why?” he asked plaintively. “Why did you stop me? What did I ever do to you?”

“You killed those people.” Shinobu found, to his great relief, that he was not afraid. Once, he’d been ordered to murder innocents, and had refused. Out of respect for his family, he had been allowed the honor of killing himself, seppuku, rather than face the humiliation of hanging like a common criminal. Instead, he’d fled with the sword he was meant to kill himself with, and the family BattleMech. “Once, I thought that mercenaries were the worst people. I see now that was wrong.”

“You got in my way,” Atom said, angrily. He either hadn’t understood, or hadn’t listened to Shiinobu’s reply. “You got in my way and let her escape. After you promised to help. You promised.”

“I set foot on this road by breaking a promise,” Shinobu said. The distance was too far, the tunnel too narrow. This could end only one way. And that was fine. He was at peace. He had begun by breaking his oath of loyalty. “It’s only right that I end it by keeping another.” A promise to himself: Never again. He took the sword in both hands, raising it in formal kendo dueling position, hilt held at belly level, pointed towards his enemy.

“You promised.”

I did, Shinobu thought. It wasn’t fear or cowardice that had stopped him, last time. It wouldn’t this time, either. He jerked the sword up, over his head, and screamed a battle cry.

The tunnel was filled with light.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

Dubble_g

  • Lieutenant
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  • Posts: 912
  • My hovercraft is full of eels
Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #52 on: 24 January 2019, 19:20:56 »
30. Respect

Through remote sensors hastily erected at the edge of the spaceport, Abel Mutai watched the battlefield in horror. “What is happening?” he whispered to himself, though the answer was plain enough. The rebel and mercenary BattleMechs had annihilated each other, taking the tanks with them. Nobody had done anything to stop or even slow the series of DropShips that had roared from the port, taking Unity-knew-how-many members of the insurgents’ command cadre with them.

Now there were only scattered pockets of insurgents, but that had done nothing to ease the fighting, as the regiments of the 2nd and 3rd divisions were now at each other’s throats. What had started as misguided local loyalties had now dissolved into a free-for-all, once the soldiers had discovered there was a massive pile of gold and other metals sitting in the middle of the battlefield. Any semblance of order had gone the way of the mercenary’s DropShip.

“Get me the 2nd division,” Mutai said, for perhaps the sixth time.

The comms officer shook his head again. “Still nothing.”

“Get me someone, anyone,” Mutai shrieked. “I don’t care if it’s the greenest, stupidest recruit in the division. I want someone, and I want them now!”

“Uh, got the Captain of the 21st, sir.” The comms officer held out the receiver and Mutai snatched it away.

“Captain, pull your men back!”

“They started it!”

“Tell that to the Maskirovka at your court martial! In the name of your Chancellor, I order you to withdraw!”

“I outrank you.”

“I am the liaison for the BattleMech forces and unless you retreat, I will order them to stomp your unit flat. Understood? Any man who refuses to pull back will be shot!”

A bluff, an utter bluff since Gore wasn’t answering any signals, and as far as Mutai could tell Gore and his men had all managed to get themselves killed.

But it worked. The Captain clicked off without answering, but there was an audible slackening in the volume of fire. Mutai checked the monitors and saw that yes, the men of the 21st were shuffling slowly backwards, slowly at first, but soon in a steady trickle, then a flood. The 3rd division was pulling back too, APCs and tanks reversing down the wall, out of view of the spaceport. Some men started running, throwing their guns and helmets aside, despite the pointed lack of pursuit.

“Very well.” The Captain came back on the channel, speaking stiffly. “I’ve ordered a tactical withdrawal to our start lines. I’m reporting this to Colonel Leyan though, Commander. I won’t be the only one talking to the Maskirovka soon, I can promise you that.”

Mutai handed the comm set back to his assistant without bothering to reply. He let out a long, slow breath. He could do with a drink. Or something stronger. Much, much stronger. “Look, er, you, have you, um.” He turned to the comms officer. “You know there’s this, um. Stuff that. Ah. Helps you, to, you know. Relax. This um, hazy stuff. You understand?”

The comms officer looked around to ensure nobody else was in hearing distance, then winked at Mutai. “Solid copy, Commander.” He reached into a breast pocket, and pulled out a short, stubby plastic pipe. “Just the thing for watching the world go up in smoke.”
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

Esskatze

  • Corporal
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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #53 on: 25 January 2019, 09:59:27 »
It's too bad that the forum software doesn't offer any option to rate or "like" comments. I understand that the tech folk in charge don't want to risk the forum's stability by tinkering with the innards, but sometimes, this really sucks.

cklammer

  • Warrant Officer
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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #54 on: 25 January 2019, 15:20:17 »
Wow, just Wow!  :thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup:

I just hope there is more post-climax  ;D

XaosGorilla

  • Sergeant
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  • Posts: 132
Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #55 on: 26 January 2019, 01:33:39 »
It's too bad that the forum software doesn't offer any option to rate or "like" comments. I understand that the tech folk in charge don't want to risk the forum's stability by tinkering with the innards, but sometimes, this really sucks.

this

DOC_Agren

  • Major
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  • Posts: 4910
Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #56 on: 26 January 2019, 01:54:06 »
Love it
 :thumbsup:
"For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed:And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!"

mikecj

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  • Veteran of Galahad 3028
Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #57 on: 26 January 2019, 04:56:43 »
I was travelling and I'm glad I was since I didn't get cliffhanger'd as often.

This is great.  I love the way your characters are all distinct and have their one voices.

The Dragon’s T&T system refused to identify it, kept asking him to install something called the “Royal Regiment Appendix”.   ;D ;D ;D ;D
There are no fish in my pond.
"First, one brief announcement. I just want to mention, for those who have asked, that absolutely nothing what so ever happened today in sector 83x9x12. I repeat, nothing happened. Please remain calm." Susan Ivanova
"Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. Teach a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime." - Belkar Bitterleaf
Romo Lampkin could have gotten Stefan Amaris off with a warning.

snakespinner

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Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #58 on: 26 January 2019, 11:00:53 »
This lurker enjoyed story very much. Well done. :thumbsup:
I wish I could get a good grip on reality, then I would choke it.
Growing old is inevitable,
Growing up is optional.
Watching TrueToaster create evil genius, priceless...everything else is just sub-par.

Dubble_g

  • Lieutenant
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  • Posts: 912
  • My hovercraft is full of eels
Re: Good as Gold
« Reply #59 on: 27 January 2019, 03:35:37 »
Some new friends and some familiar faces (avatars?) leaving comments lately. Eternally grateful to all of you for stopping by to leave a kind word. Not so full of myself (yet?) that I think everything I write automatically turns to gold.

Time to put this sucker in the ground. FYI chapters 31-33 are the final three, with the story ending at 33. Just in case you're not sure if it's done yet or not.

***

31. Righteousness

Zlato darted through dimly-lit halls, never still enough for Sebastian to get off a shot. He pounded after her, vaulting crates and boxes left scattered by the fleeing insurgents, splashing through puddles of foul-smelling liquid, ducking and sliding once under a half-raised forklift parked sideways in the tunnel.

Shaken, dazed survivors sat or wandered the tunnels, cringing away as they saw him come running, curling into balls or burying their heads in their hands. The faces of defeat, hopeless defeat. Nobody tried to stop him.

Sebastian saw Zlato duck into a side doorway, slowed and threw himself against the wall beside it. Crouching, pistol held before him, he risked a quick glance around the doorframe. No sign of Zlato, only row upon row of rust-pitted metal shelving. Old-fashioned printed books, their edges yellow with age. Data storage devices in dozens of different formats, everything from magnetic discs stacked in haphazard piles, to squat hard drives and rows of soft-glowing crystals placed like diamonds on soft velvet cushions. Whatever labeling the shelves had once borne was now mostly faded, outlines and ghost letters tantalizingly hinted:

GEN CA    MODI       ODS

HARMONIZING MI  ORGA  SMS

BASIC TERR  OR ING

Sebastian straightened, and padded into the room, pistol still held ready. He ducked around one shelf. Met only more musty, dusty stacks of information. Here and there were backpacks and canvas bags, stuffed with more data crystals and chips, like someone had been interrupted in the middle of moving house.

“Over here,” said a voice, sounding tired.

Sebastian turned another corner and saw her at the end of a long row of shelving. Zlato stood by a writing desk pushed against one wall. Above it was tacked a printed map of the planet, red X marks through a score of cities. A single light with a bare incandescent bulb swung gently overhead.

In Zlato’s hand was a grenade. A plain black pineapple, with the pin already pulled. “Deadman switch,” she said when she saw him. “Shoot me or come any closer and we both die.”

Sebastian walked slowly down the canyon between the shelves, stopped at the edge of the light, and lowered his pistol. “Then why are we both still alive?” He nodded at the grenade. “Could’ve tossed that thing the second you saw me.”

She did not look like a killer or prophet, murderer or messiah. More like someone’s middle-aged working mother, hair gone grey, tired eyes and red-raw hands from late nights on factory or farm. Someone who’d hide their aches and smile when you came in, and offer to make you some tea. “I just wanted to talk,” she said.

“Little late for that,” said Sebastian. “Could’ve saved yourself a whole mountain of bother if you’d done that instead of taking weapons from the Suns.”


“The Federated Suns?” Her smile was bitter. “We’ll get to them in a bit, I think. But no. However I might wish otherwise, no, the FIA has never been funded by the Federated Suns.”

Sebastian frowned. “Who then?”

“Haven’t you guessed? ComStar, of course.”

“That don’t make a whole lotta sense. What does a farming world like Ingress have that ComStar is willing to fund a rebellion for?”

“Look around you. Ever heard of Halstead Station?”

“You’re the second person that’s asked me that.”

“Let me guess, the other was Levato. No? Yes? Yes. ComStar funded the FIA because the FIA could pay. Not in gold, or whatever else you’ve stolen in that Banshee outside, but in the real treasure of this planet.” She gestured around the storeroom with her free hand, at the long metal shelves and their ancient, dusty cargo. “Books. Data crystals. Memory chips. Before it was the Citadel, this place was a university. One of the galaxy’s leading research centers in xenobotany, terraforming, a whole range of life sciences. The knowledge store here is worth hundreds of billions, if not trillions of C-Bills.”

“So ComStar gave you weapons in exchange for the data. What’s that to you?”

“I saw what ComStar was doing with the books and crystals and chips they’d bought from the FIA on Ingress.” There were tears in her eyes, marking silent, silver streaks down her cheeks in the dim light. “They were destroying them. Burning them, crushing them.” She shook her head. “It’s not the money, you see? This knowledge could mean life. Transform a hundred marginal worlds into gardens. End hunger. Reignite colonization so we’re no longer stuck, squabbling over the same small corner of the galaxy. Another Exodus. We could abolish scarcity. End war, when there’s enough room for all of us. End greed, when there is more than enough land and wealth for everyone.”

“So to save us all, you joined the revolution. How’d that turn out?”

“As you see.”

Sebastian hacked a short, ugly laugh. “What’d you expect?”

“Expect? I expected Hanse Davion. I expected that when the revolution had weakened the Confederation's hold on Ingress, then the victor of Halstead Station, the man who risked everything to recover a library, would come and rescue this planet too, and the knowledge it contained.” She was silent a moment, eyes no longer focused on Sebastian. Unconsciously biting her lip.

She blinked away her tears, refocused on Sebastian. “He didn’t come.”

“No, he didn’t,” Sebastian agreed. “Ever hear of the Warsaw Uprising? No? Uprising against an occupier, when potential liberators were sitting on their doorstep. Liberators didn’t lift a finger to help them. So much easier to stroll in once the hard work was already done for them, and any troublemakers with funny ideas about independence already dealt with. Ole Hansey will be here. Just give him a year or two.”

Zlato’s shoulders slumped. “He always seemed so much more … principled than that.”

“A man who already has more than almost any human in history, and who still wants more?” Sebastian laughed again. “More, more, always more: That’s the principles of a cancer cell.”

The hand holding the grenade drooped, and for a heart-stopping moment Sebastian thought she had let it go. But no, she clutched it to her chest, like a child. “Well, I won’t make that mistake—” A noise behind Sebastian made her stop. She looked past his shoulder, her face hardening. “Atom. I was wondering who Levato would send.”

Sebastian turned slowly. Atom filled the space at the end of the two shelves like a mountain. His face and features were lost in the gloom. He began to shuffle forward slowly, the geography of his bull neck and shoulders emerging first, then his arms. The right hand held a small needler pistol, a tiny toy in his hand. The left arm ended in a stump at the wrist, a crude tourniquet wrapped around the forearm. A long slash of blood welled across his belly on the same side.

Unseen by either of them, Zlato put her arms behind her back, the grenade nestled against her backbone.

“Please move, Sebastian,” the giant said. His face was pale, almost grey with blood loss, but the needler in his hand was steady. “It will be easier.”

Sebastian did not move immediately. He looked at Atom’s injuries, thinking. “Shinobu?” he asked.

“He was in the way,” Atom shrugged, then shifted his aim fractionally so his gun pointed at Sebastian. “Do I have to kill you too? I don’t want to, but I will. Please. She’s a bad person. Flow away. Like a current. Follow the path of least resistance.”

All the fight seemed to leak out of Sebastian. A needler was a weapon of limited uses, those uses being against unarmored opponents in small, enclosed spaces. This qualified on all three counts. He would be dead the moment Atom’s trigger finger so much as twitched. And for what? The gold was gone, melted to slag, Shinny, Liu, Zeke and probably Dani dead. For what?

The path of least resistance. He slumped against the shelf and did not look up as Atom approached.

Atom brushed past Sebastian and walked slowly forward until he towered over Zlato. He raised his pistol, aiming at the forehead right between the eyes. She screwed her eyes shut, clenched her teeth. Felt cold satisfaction knowing he would die, too, when the grenade went off.

There was a gunshot.

That was wrong. Needlers didn’t sound like that. They were quiet, sounded like someone ripping open a zipper at high speed. But that shot had hit like thunder. Her ears were ringing and there was a taste like gunpowder on her teeth.

Zlato opened her eyes. Atom still stood above her, but now a neat circle of nothing had appeared over his right eye. The hand that had held the needler to her head went slack, letting it clatter to the floor. Atom toppled backwards. Landed hard enough to shake dust loose from the ceiling.

Sebastian stood, looking down at the corpse. Python held loosely, forgotten in his hand.

“Why?” Zlato asked.

“Oh, you know,” Sebastian said. “Ah don’t have big reasons like you. Revenge for mah friend, that he killed. Or you mean, why shoot him in the back? You wanna live long in the merc business, you learn never to fight fair. Ah’d shoot you too, Zlato. For Dani. But Ah think you’re already planning your own exit.”

Zlato looked at the grenade, still clutched in her hand, and back at him. “If Levato and the others think I’m still alive, they will hunt for this data. If I die, if this room is destroyed, they’ll think the job is done. Take it, take as much as you can. Data crystals, they’re smaller, lighter, hold more. Most of the other media are unusable, rotted with age. But take the crystals, sell them mercenary, secretly, spread them across the Sphere, set this knowledge free.” She laughed bitterly. “Let your greed succeed where my principles have failed.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, backing up from Zlato. “If that’s the way you want it,” he said. He grabbed a handful of crystals, crammed them into his short pockets. Scooped up a rucksack from the floor, dumping whole shelves into its mouth. When he looked back, Zlato was still standing there. Smiling tiredly. She waved once, and then Sebastian turned a corner and she was lost to his sight.

He was halfway down the corridor when he heard the distant, muffled crump of an explosion. He stiffened a moment, paused and looked back, shook his head then set off again.
Author, "Inverted" (Shrapnel #4), "Undefeated" (#10), "Reversal of Fortunes" (#13) and "The Alexandria Job" (#15)

 

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