My Vanity AU - Book One: Proof of Diffusion

[Daemion]

Note from the Author -

This was a long time in coming. Some of you have seen bits and pieces of the adventures of one of my brainchildren.  This is where I had originally decided to give him his start when it came to becoming a MechWarrior in a BattleTech universe.

I grew up on GI Joe and Transformer toys among many, many others. 

I also grew up on Doctor Who and the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon, among many, many others.

Then came the mail-in customizable Steel Brigade GI Joe figure.  I named mine Jamin, since it's part of my name.

With my breadth of toys, though not very deep collection, combined with the idea of one of them representing me, and my fond wishes to explore strange new worlds by jumping through a portal, Sliders-style, or some other odd means, he took on the role of 'interdimensional' traveler. There were some other things that morphed his means of transportation, and his make-up.

Finally, enter BattleTech.  The ultimate combination of Transformers and GI Joe, I immediately was drawn into the game, itself from the battered 2nd ed box set I picked up out of a garage sale.  Then I got immersed in the world. One of many, many others I fancy playing around in. 

Eventualy, my wandering avatar would end up here.  And, then in many other permutations.

I'm a strong believer in events happening for a reason.  While Jamin, himself, is around 26 or 27 years old from initial concept, (I being born near the end of 1980), and his adventure in an initial BattleTech universe is as old, certain things had to happen for that particular story could get to where I have it now.  With what I have, I'm satisfied with where the arcs are going.  Spawned by years of games, My friends threw missions at the merc unit he was in. Some of them got creative.  When I finally had a story path in mind, many of them were willing OpFor players, to see what I had going next.

His is a long and storied career, and not just in this BTu.  And, with his unique nature, the adventures don't have to end.

And, if you read on, I'll show you how a man with no credible past can become a MechWarrior when everyone else requires a familial background or loads of money, and years of academy training.

I plan on working on this weekly until I have it all up or I'm taken from this world.

Enjoy.

[Daemion]

Proof of Diffusion

Prologue

DropShip Grocery Run
Boat of the Stars Trade Route
Ormstown Nadir
Lyran Periphery
15 October 3067


   Seated in the bolted swivel-chair inside the tiny cubby acting as the ship's quartermaster's office, Casey Putnam looked at the missive in his chocolate brown hands.  With a nod, he dismissed the crewman who delivered the letter.  Knowing from the header what it would say, he read it anyway.

   Come home.

   In so many words.

   The galaxy was starting to rip itself apart again. The fighting on Outreach was just the pebble starting the avalanche.  So Casey's parents believed.

   He didn't disagree.

   Unwilling to lose their son a second time, they called him home.  His entire family wanted to lock him up so they could be reassured of his safety.  They wanted to put him in a cage, their own family miracle on display.

   The promotion to corporate headquarters was just gilt gold on the bars.

   He was right where he wanted to be.  Out on the space lanes, he could travel the stars and visit new worlds.  Usually more than one per jump.

   The visions still came.

   Darran was dead.  Al was dead.  Carl was missing.  With their leader captured by the Word of Blake, the mercenaries had been forced to disband.  Under duress, they were required to hand over their BattleMechs and disappear, scattering to the four winds.

   The 'jump dreams' still kept them all together.

   It was difficult to imagine Al was truly dead.  Every week, Casey spoke with him.  They went on strange adventures.  But, the memory of his loss was clear and fresh.  The cockpit on Al's Warhammer had been a smoking, burned out ruin.

   Yet, there had been no body.  No blasted, charred command couch.  No sign of Al at all.

   It was as if the chair were never installed.  Like it never existed.  Like he never existed.

   That comparison worried Casey.  Yet, that was the only clue which explained why Al still wandered with them among twisted alternate realities.

   Leaning back in his chair as much as null gravity would allow, he took in the paper decked walls and covered desk.  It had been only two weeks since his father gave him this position.  Two weeks, and already it felt like a lifetime.

   There-in lay the problem.  Conflicting memories.

   It started the day Al died.  Disappeared.  Casey could never really think of him as dead.  In Casey's mind were two sets of memories.  One was the life of a mercenary, with his colleagues Al, Logan, Jenn, Miko and the others.

   The other was a life of a mercenary cut short.  In a disaster that saw the band disbanded early, sometime in 3059, Casey was forced to come home and spend the rest of his days inside a bulk freighter.  Actually, this exact one.  In that life, he had never met Al, never tutored him in the pirated sim pods, and never seen their wild missions and adventures.

   One was just as real as the other.  Neither was foggy or faded.  Casey was certain he had two actual lifetimes in his head, branching at that moment when he did or did not meet Al on Astrokaszy for the first time.

   With the comfortable routine of the day-to-day on board the Grocery Run, he would have fancied it all as a very vivid, creative fantasy.  Nearly twelve years of friendship and history, and almost nine years of service, simply dismissed and forgotten.  Only the dreams kept it all real.

   It was a problem.

   Hope remained that his friend was alive.  He had seen similar disappearances only one other place.  Casey was certain the same individual responsible for them was the culprit behind this dual reality.  He was the only one Casey knew who could fix it.

   There was only one way to find that person.  He needed a ship that had been there before.  He knew of two.  Both were well outside of his reach, the crews likely unwilling to go back.

   He needed to try something else.

   Out in the cargo bay, warning lights flashed red, casting everything in a pinkish hue.  A klaxon growled once, signaling a jump.  The moment Casey had been waiting for was near.

   He reasoned that Blacky, who started the 'jump dreams', was in contact with each of the people who participated in them.  That cast was select, composed of anyone who had ever seen the odd ship, past, present, or future.  With Al gone, every time one of them jumped, the same people were part of a new adventure.

   Casey hoped that Blacky would hear anyone who called for him when they left reality.

   He had tried calling out twice, to no avail.  Maybe he didn't have the timing right.  Maybe he needed to take it to the edge of perception.  Maybe he wasn't doing anything right.  Or, maybe Blacky didn't want to be disturbed.

   Casey might also be completely wrong.  Maybe it wasn't possible.  Maybe it all was in his imagination.

   No matter.  It was all Casey had, and he would keep trying.

   The moment came.  He felt reality warping. Everything slowed to a halt. For as long as he had a conscious thought, he shouted in his head, calling, not knowing if he was broadcasting loud enough, or at all.


     I know you're out there! Answer me, please! Help me understand what's happening! Help me find my friend...



Excavated Pit
Abandoned Mine Site - Smith Interstellar 21
Quarantined System
Formerly LACS SIMPH 32
Periphery
DD?,MM?,YYYY?

   Casey blinked.

   He wasn't on the dropper.  He wasn't on any dropper.  Not the Queen of Aces, like he expected. Not the Grocery Run, where he had been only a millisecond earlier.

   Casey's feet bore the weight of his body on arid, broken ground.  In front of him was a pit of smooth glass. The bottom was broken up, looking like someone had punched it hard enough to cause a second, cracked pit. Above all that, suspended in the periwinkle sky and reflecting the red sun, was a giant, smooth, silver orb.

   Blacky’s ship.

   It had worked.

   Casey whooped with elation.

   Next to him stood a man.  Even though appearing out of nowhere, he stood looking at Casey as if he were always there, and Casey had just now noticed.  This man wore a black robe with long, billowing sleeves.  His coppery skinned head was completely devoid of hair.  His eyes reflected no light in their extremely large, overly dilated pupils.  The only thing to indicate the man wasn't blind was a single dot of light, like a star, at the center of each lidded well.

   Casey had seen this man only three other times in his life.  He was hard to forget, even though nearly eight years had passed since their last encounter.  This was to be the fourth time.

   Al had called him Blacky.

   "You want to know where Al is?" Blacky asked, his baritone carrying easily in the still air.

   "Y... yeah," Casey stammered, still on a blissful high and caught off-guard by the direct query.  "Where is he?"

   "Right now?  At this moment outside of time, he is currently engaged as a pawn in a series of melees, combats initiated by five individuals similar to myself.  They've been drawn to him, like I was, but don't realize they have him.  They sport among themselves to while the time with your people and other beings they can summon to their contests."

   Blacky turned to look off in the distance.  “A set of duels involving Al is starting right now.”

   Casey followed Blacky’s gaze, but all he saw was distant sky and rocky landscape.  “What’s happening?”

   Blacky turned to observe Casey momentarily.  “That’s right.  Let me show you.”

* * *

[Daemion]

Prologue, continued


   Alius Cad’ver ran his hands over the controls in the Warhammer cockpit.  It was almost a perfect recreation of his older machine, though there had been some upgrades.  While he donned the neurohelmet and fired up the seventy-ton war titan, the words of his benefactor played through his mind. 

   The thing that had found him when Al awoke from his transition between realities was a strange machine creature.  All chrome, it had six bug-like appendages sprouting from a solid metal shell of overlapping plates.  Two segmented tentacles ending in three-fingered claws would extend or recede from under its face in the front.  At least, that was what Al figured was its face.  When the thing spoke to him, a liquid metal pool that defied gravity morphed into the facsimile of a human face.  The strange orbs that haloed that pool glowed like jewels lit from behind.  The hue of each gem would change over time, sometimes quickly and sometimes very slowly.  Al couldn’t discern any particular pattern in the way they glowed.

   “I had a chance to observe your original machine from your first sortie,” the thing said in a strangely metallic, hollow rasp, indicating the Warhammer from near the ’Mech’s right foot.  “I then found other technologies and extrapolated an ideal upgrade that is appropriate for the fight into which you are about to be entered.”

   As the HUD started painting a picture of the pseudo-alien landscape around him, he saw an indicator of some of those changes.  The weapons indicator in the upper right-hand corner showed some new tertiary weapons.

   “Mi. P. Lasers?” he voiced aloud.

   There were five of them. Two in either side torso near a corresponding ‘M. P.’ Laser, or medium pulse.  One was in the head.  Before donning his helmet, Al had noted the tandem housing rig overhead with barrels jutting out above the viewport.  They were in place of the old small lasers, though there had only been four of those, down in the side torsos.  From what he’d learned of advanced Inner Sphere tech from his mechanic, Al suspected these were something other than small pulse lasers.

   The world outside his ’Mech was compressed into a picture directly in front of his face.  A long thin line with a rectangle highlighting his direct forward view stretched out to the edges of his peripheral vision.  And, it was painted in vivid colors.  The swells were shallow, no more than a meter or two tops. Trees with the ever-common mix of green foliage grouped in small copses as far as the eye could see.  Signs of prior habitation stood tall in the forms of two large grain silos of corrugated steel.  They showed signs of age with large rust spots.

   Out among all that, the computer painted the outlines of two enemies.  Normally, the coloration of the outlines and cartoon depictions of the unseen elements were red for enemies, and green for friendlies.  In this instance, the one on Al’s left was a light blue, while the one on his right was white and light gray.  At least, this time, they were designs he was familiar with.  Not that he had faced a Dire Wolf in Battle, he was familiar with them from his childhood and the board game he played in high-school.  Before that fateful day in 2001.  Both were Daishis, but the weapon configuration on each was unrecognized by his warbook.

   “Your speech about ending the fighting in your last sortie was inspiring,” the creature had said to him after his enquiry about the situation, at the foot of the Warhammer.  “I saw the potential in you and the machine you rode.  It is why I brought you back.  These other beings wage a set of games with the lives of people and machines as if their mere pets, or pawns.  With your help, I can stop them.  But, first, we need to gain standing in their silly duels before I can enact my plan.  Will you help me?”

   Al still had his doubts.  It was obvious that refusing to fight would not free him to travel between universes as he was supposed to.  Already he had the jump dreams to deal with.  Dropping from one adventure back into the life he’d left from his first BattleTech universe was already disorienting.  Dredging up the memories of that life after anywhere from days to months, or years, have passed in a completely different setting was tricky enough.  Now, even those transitions were interrupted by this ongoing series of duels between magical creatures?

   The small voice at the back of his mind reassured him that Al was meant to be here.  If nothing else, his curiosity was piqued.  Right now, he was in this duel - more of a three-way free-for-all.  This time, he might as well win it.

   Hovering his reticle over the white Daishi on the right, Al selected one of the Mi Pulse Lasers.  It had the same range characteristics of a small laser.  What kind of heat output would it require?  He would have to learn on the fly. 

   Shoving the throttle forward to its stop kicked the Warhammer into a run. If this was like his old Mech, it would have Triple Strength Myomer bundles which required heating up.  Al was quickly caught by surprise.  The Warhammer moved with a speed that he was used to only when the TSM was heated.  Except when he had upgraded it with the salvaged Thor engine.   He grinned.  A logical upgrade, indeed.  Clan engine and heat sinks, as well as weaponry.  Had to be.  The range profile of the Medium Pulse Lasers confirmed it.

   But, how was the heat output?

   While weaving his ’Mech between copses of trees, Al lined up a firing solution on the white Daishi.  Both enemies were moving now.  He heard sensor pings as they got a readout on him.  There were too many trees in the way, so his shots weren’t going to do a damn bit of good, only burning away at leaves and branches to hit impotently against the target’s advanced composite hide. They would also heat up his machine.  He triggered a full barrage.

   Not surprisingly, the two Daishis turned on one another.  When they opened up, Al got to see what they were packing.  One was loaded out with Particle Cannons, and the other a mixed array of Pulse Lasers and Gauss Rifles.

   Surprisingly, the fight was over as soon as it began.  A PPC beam burned into the cockpit on the white Daishi.  The head section on the holoprojection went dark, meaning location destruction.  A half-second later, a Gauss slug smashed through the viewport on the blue Daishi, and its head section also went dark.

   Al had won by simply being the last one standing before he’d even fired a shot.  But, he didn’t have time to reflect.  In fact, he could feel time slowing down.  It was an odd sensation.  In that moment, he heard a psychic scream.  He didn’t hear it through his ears.  Instead, a woman’s scream of denial and outrage rang through his mind.  Before his eyes, events rewound up to the moment just before the two Daishis fired on one another. 

   One of the benefactors had just rewound time, and Al was fully aware of it.  Apparently, so, too was everyone else.  This time, the Daishis both took better defensive actions, turning lethal head hits into heavy damage elsewhere with a simple duck or weave. 

   Al’s skin crawled.  Instinct wanted him to activate the magic barrier built in at the base of his neck.  The Neurohelmet kept him from doing that in many ways.  The dampening effect would keep it from reading his mental impulses.  The way the helmet fully encapsulated his head and rested on his shoulders, attached firmly to the coolant vest kept him from physically popping his neck.

   Then his weapons fired.  He could feel faint pulses of heat from the overhead pulse laser.  He eyed the heat gauge as the coolant system kicked in, dissipating and redistributing the internal heat build-up from high-powered energy discharges.

   The cockpit remained comfortably temperate.  But the effect on the rest of the Warhammer was almost immediate. The Warhammer’s gait gained a sudden boost in strength, while the targeting reticule showed a slight drop in accuracy on all his weapons. The heat gauge showed the internal levels right at the TSMs ‘sweet spot’.

    Smiling, Al turned his attention back to the fight at hand

   To his left, the blue Daishi angled in his direction. 

   “Boy, are you in for a surprise,” Al muttered through clenched teeth.

* * *

[Daemion]

Prologue, continued


   Casey watched the vision from an outside perspective, a spectator on the side, high above the battlefield.  It was like watching a Solaris 7 match.  While Al’s Warhammer moved to engage, Casey took in the surroundings, and noticed the visages of the other two patrons hovering like large holograms over their respective combatants. 

   One was the classic epitome of an angel, a woman decked in flashy ornamental armor with giant, white feathery wings sticking out back.  Instead of a blond, she was a brunette.  The other patron was a mermaid of sorts.  Her slender frame had the bumps of breasts suggesting she was female under her flowing silken robes.  Where her skin was exposed, Casey caught the glint of scales and oddly placed fins.  She had no hair, her head sporting strange bony bumps in places.  She even had webbing between her fingers.  One long, single fish tail dangled out below her robes, instead of two legs.

   When the two Daishi BattleMechs KO’d each other, it was the mermaid that screamed out in rage, making some strange hand gesture to rewind time.  Then, Al proceeded to flank the mermaid’s champion.  The increased speed and agility was used to full advantage, allowing the Warhammer to deflect a lot of incoming fire from the Clan behemoth, while dishing out telling hits of its own from the wave of laser pulses as well as two powerful azure PPC beams.  The armor on the Daishi was able to take a lot of punishment. 

   However, Al had worked around to the Daishi’s right side, and angled in to plant a heat-enhanced kick on the bird-legged right knee.  The damage caved in armor, leaving a noticeable dent while spider-webbed cracks grew up and down the thigh and shin.  The impact knocked the Daishi over. 

   The Blue pilot ejected once his machine came to an unsteady rest. 

   “What?!” The mermaid looked annoyed and surprised.  She huffed after a short pause, then turned and vanished.

   The Angel’s champion didn’t suffer quite the same fate as the other Daishi, but Casey watched Al’s luck play out.  The same luck that had enticed Casey to take Al under his wing when they first met.  The two Mechs were at range, and Al was only able to put his particle cannons and the two Clan Medium Pulse Lasers on target, though a bevy of micros were added to the barrage.  Harmless at those ranges, Casey knew Al’s combat tricks.

   The Warhammer swung wide, angling around woods and low slopes to close in on the wounded Daishi.  Its shots were moderately effective, Al’s armor absorbing the hits.  But, it was the return fire that did the job.  Both PPCs found a spot weakened by the Blue Daishi’s earlier barrage.  Smoke belched from a hole that sparked with electrical discharge on the left arm before it exploded.  Seeing a Gauss Rifle explode was interesting, as giant metal pieces simple ripped the fore-arm to shreds.  The forces carried up the shoulder.  Safeties cut-in and what was left of the limb went dead.

   The wound was survivable, since the Clan ’Mech had a CASE system, from what Casey recalled.  The discharge would have hurt the pilot, making him woozy, but he could still fight once he got past the symptoms.  However, the auto-eject feature was active on the white Daishi, and the pilot was force-ejected from his BattleMech by other safety features at about the same moment that the fore-arm casing started to warp and split.

   The scene dissolved about the same time that the Angel turned away to vanish. 

   “He won,” Casey stated when the vision ended.

   “Twice,” Blacky added, gaze momentarily distant for a few seconds longer.

   “Were you really surprised?” Casey asked, deadpan.  “He’s clocked more time in that cockpit than the oldest pilot known to man.”

   “Except Logan,” Blacky corrected.

   Casey paused in his reply before ceding the point with a nod.  He quickly brought the subject back on track.  “Those ‘beings’ aren’t necessarily human, are they?  I imagine your showing them above the fight was for my benefit?  One looked like a mermaid, another an angel, and then that mechanical thing that Al fought for.”

   “That is correct,” Blacky said.   

   "Yeah.  I think you'd tried to warn us last time.  About them," Casey said.  "They’re drawn to him?  You mean by that light you see in Al?"

   Blacky looked away from Casey, distracted.  "That's not how I discovered you the first time.  How I discovered all of you."  He smiled.  "Let me show you what I saw, what I see."

   Up in the sky, lights, stars, winked in and out of existence.  Each one shined briefly, brightly, then vanished.  There were hundreds.

   "What are those?" Casey asked.

   "The vessels your people use to pierce the void and travel vast distances instantaneously."

   "JumpShips,” Casey said.

   "Your arrival in my universe was what drew me.  I didn't see the light of your friend until I had caught up with you.  But, because of that light, I decided to follow you here when you exited my world."

   "Yeah.  I remember that," Casey said.  "Al tried to stop the ship from jumping when you appeared in front of us, but, was too late.  Didn't work.  And, because of Al, you followed us and you're stuck here."

   Blacky let his head slowly wobble in a non-committal gesture while contemplating.  "Things would be very messy if he had succeeded.  But, I can't blame him.  My current predicament is my own doing.  In my own cleverness, I hoped to use you to find my world and leave a warning to my earlier self.  In my realm, I give our ships special patterns that I recognize.  That way I can identify friend from foe.  I had done the same to your ship when I first launched you across the void into another universe.  What you call a Jump Dream, I believe.  It was unique enough to be recognizable, but still a pattern.  Because of that, my earlier self was more inclined to try to contact you.”

   Blacky turned to look on Casey directly.

   "But, it wouldn't have mattered.  I'm certain, now, that I would have followed you, pattern or no.  As a threat to my people, I had to make sure I could find you."

   He paused, looking down at his own hands while he raised them.  The winking stars vanished. Blacky clenched his fists, then dropped them to his sides.

   "I've also learned that my long exile is also my doing.  I didn't have to wait so long to return home.  I could have gone the first time you met me, here."  He waved his hands around to indicate the world on which they stood.  A sad, amused smile curled his lips.  "You see, I'm worshiped as a demigod where I'm from.  I’m used to people acting at my command.  I am also not used to having to explain myself.

   "I know now that if I had been open, honest, I would be home now, and it would be safe from them."  He turned to look off in the distance.  "But, only if I overcame my own self-importance and impatience.  I'd been trapped here a long, long time.  If I hadn't been hasty-."

   "You'd be home," Casey finished in the slight pause.  “How long were you trapped before the miners found you?”

   “Somewhere around a thousand jump intervals, which comes out to around nineteen Earth years.”

   Casey harrumphed.  “You look good for 50.”

   “I’m actually ten times that age,” Blacky said.

   “Still, nineteen years is a long wait in the dark.  I can’t fault you for your impatience.  And, now, add another eight or nine years to the wait.”

   Blacky looked at Casey, his face still contorted slightly with sadness.  "If I had gone home then, you adventure would have been cut short."

   "Would Al have survived?  I remember him saying something about dying."

   "We would have been fine.  Both of us would have departed together."

   "Then, I don’t think missing out would have mattered.  So, he's alive now?"

   "Alive?" Blacky looked momentarily surprised. "No. He is very much dead."

   "What?" Casey was confused.  "But, you just showed me he’s out there right now, fighting in some strange tournament.  You rescued him, didn't you?  Teleported him out at the last minute like you did the other pilots years ago."

   Blacky looked thoughtful.  "Teleported?  Them?  Yes.  Him?  I had no hand in that.  Al’s talent, his fate, is at work."

   "If he's fighting and winning, that means he's alive somewhere."

   Blacky's eyeless gaze fell on Casey again.  The look of sadness returned.

   "I see.  He never explained what he is to you, did he?”




DropShip Grocery Run
Boat of the Stars Trade Route
Langhorne Zenith
Lyran Periphery
15 October 3067


   On the desk in his cubby, Casey plopped down his little personal affects chest.  Only half a meter wide by a quarter meter deep and tall, it barely fit on top of all the paper.  He opened it and fished out what he needed.  He fished around for a couple other items that he wanted on hand.  It would be about a week before the Grocery Run jumped again.  A little longer, actually.  Langhorne was almost Terra-like in its star and planetary lay-out.  So, it would take a little over a weak for the ship to recharge its jump drive.

   However, in that time, there were a couple things Casey wanted to have on his person.

   His talk with Blacky - Diaprepes - had given him the answers he needed, and the last Jump Dream adventure had given him three weeks to process what he had learned.  Casey now had hope, and a direction.  “You need to keep the dreams alive,” Diaprepes had said.  Al was still alive, in a weird way, and he would be back at some point in the future. The Jump Dreams were somehow important.

   He needed to keep the Jump Dreams alive.  He couldn’t do that by going home and being cooped up in a manshion for the duration of the coming conflict.  He had to keep aboard a JumpShip, any JumpShip, and keep bouncing through the void.

   Casey had a purpose, now, and with Diaprepes’s help, he could make it happen.  Diaprepes was a man, a being, with powers, who could not only travel the void between universes, but he could put people wherever he wanted.  His exact words still burned in Casey’s memory. 

   “I am a master of the void.  My specialty is putting people and things in new places through the medium outside reality.  You don't have to arrive on the same ship you left in."

   It was a big chance Casey was taking.  He was about to live a life that only Al would be familiar with, waking up after an adventure in an unfamiliar environment.  The thought having to come up with an explanation on how he got there if he were discovered gave him pause.  To think that Al did that on a very frequent basis.  And, then there was having to find a way to survive if he managed to remain hidden.

   But, Casey had bigger hope.  There were larger forces working here beyond Diaprepes and his powers.  If the dreams were that important, then those higher powers would come to Casey’s aid, or grant him divine providence along the way.

[Daemion]

Attached RTF file of the Prologue for those who wish to read it uninterrupted or outside the forums. 

[snakespinner]

A dream world brought out by jumps.
Very interesting. :thumbsup:

[Daemion]

Chapter 1

   He woke up in complete darkness.  Reaching out, he found he could move, but he was in a confined space, which became more evident with the sound of his breathing and how it sounded close.  Claustraphobia threatened to set in, but he quickly suppressed it by concentrating on his breathing for a couple seconds.  Then he started examining his surroundings.

   The surfaces around him were flat, and when he hit or kicked, they rang hollow, like plastic.  He felt some contours, like ridging.  And, then there were some depressions into which he could push his fingertips.  If he worked hard enough some of those depressions widened into gaps. 

   Crates.  He was inside a pocket, surrounded by storage crates or totes.  He had no idea how deep the pile was, but he imagined with enough effort and time, he could free himself.  Giving a tentative push, he found ready resistance in most directions except to his right. 

   Pushing and wiggling, he heard muted thumping overhead, which then bounced down the right and ended somewhere below him.  As he continued to push and work, a few more repeats of the noise.  Each time, the work and push became a hair easier.

   After many minutes, light suddenly appeared.  But, it wasn’t like a crack had opened up to let outside light in.  It was if a switch had been turned on and suddenly flooded in through an existing crack.  He paused, letting his vision adjust.

   “What the ******?” a voice mumbled outside.

   Heart elated at hearing a voice, he called out to the stranger outside his prison.  Come what may, he was about to be free.  He could deal with the consequences later.

   “Help!” he finally managed after a few wordless shouts.

   “Hello?” the voice outside said, louder concerned.

   “Hey!  I’m stuck.  Can you get me out?” he shouted.  The noise of his own voice in the confined space irritated his ears.

   “Holy -,” the outside voice muttered, muffled. “I hear you,” it said, clearly, though still muffled by the plastic crate barrier.  It was decidedly male, a baritone.  “Hang on!  We’ll get you out.  It’ll take a while.”

[Daemion]

Entrance Exam


Stum’s Bar
Cross Road’s Oasis
Astrokaszy
31 October 3058

   “Wait, wait, wait,” Darrin said, his voice gravelly with age. 

   Darrin Grinn was one of three other men that sat with Casey at a table near the Pod Pit in Stum’s Bar.  Alius Cad’ver sat to Casey’s right at the metal round table, and Ben Nimaj II, sat on Casey’s left.  Casey leaned against the heavy metal railing that ran the edge of what used to be the town hall auditorium.

   Stum’s Bar wasn’t just inside Crossroad’s Oasis’s town hall.  It had taken over the building, according to local lore, when a small, mysterious band of mercenaries had hauled in a dozen academy-grade BattleMech simulator pods a couple years back.  Town hall was only one place in the entire town that could hold them.  The town’s sole bar owner decided to use the Pods as an attraction, and moved his establishment to the town hall, taking it over.  Accept for the shape of the place, with the pod pit in the old amphitheater, Casey wouldn’t have guessed the building’s origin.

   The light in the rest of the bar up and around the pit was dim.  The place was packed.  Being Halloween, this was one of the many days throughout the year that people could come, get on a list, and have fun with the free-for-all without having to pay out.  It was reaching the point of Standing Room Only.  A steady murmur of conversation filled the background, overpowering the noises of the current match.  One of many rare excited outbursts erupted when something happened in the virtual arena. 

   Casey glanced up at one of the giant hanging monitors.  A cinematic view of the current fight was playing out in full color before flicking back to the view of a Pod Pilot and the stats of his ’Mech.  Below, one of the Pods quit moving, settling to rest. 

   Another one bought the dust.

   The other three men at the table had looked up, as well.  Once they were satisfied, they each turned back.  Three sets of eyes turned to Al, who had been recounting his arrival on Astrokaszy.  He’d just got started before Darrin interrupted the tale.  Nimaj Jr and Darrin only just arrived minutes before.

   Darrin’s one good eye twinkled in the dim light, glowing bright in contrast to his sun-darkened skin.  The desert nomad wasn’t a local, his thick Davion outback accent a give-away from his off-world origin.  The scar that crossed over his left eye, hidden under an eyepatch suggested he was a veteran of at least one conflict.  Whether that was from his time on Astrokaszy, or prior, Casey had yet to learn.  He hadn’t felt comfortable broaching the subject in the three years he knew the man.  One day, it might come up.  Or, it might not.

   “So, you’re telling me that you don’t know how you got aboard the dropship?” Darrin asked.  He looked both curious and skeptical. 

   Al’s blue eyes glinted.  He observed Darrin for a few seconds, a strange look of excitement and mirth only hinted at in his features.  With a very faint tilt of his head, he said, “I have some ideas.  But, no, I don’t exactly know how I ended up on the Dragon’s Rose.” 

   Nimaj Junior stirred.  While he was the son of a nomad tribe’s chieftain of the same name, the young man wasn’t much older than Al, somewhere in his mid- to late- twenties.  Nimaj’s only sign of sun exposure was on his face.  The young nomad kept himself nearly completely covered while outside, so his European heritage showed in his very pale skin, and freckles.  His dark hair and eyes were the only thing about him that could be remotely considered Arabic, in spite of his name.

   “Dragon’s Rose,” Nimaj said, a hint of the local accent marring his words.  “That’s the name of the DropShip which crashed out in the desert.”

   “The one he was inducted as a member of the crew,” Darrin added.  He shook his head.  “So, tell me about your trip from Terra, again.  There’s something you did to impress the captain enough to bring you into the fold.”

   “And, make you part-owner of the vessel,” Nimaj concluded.

   Al’s subtle amusement turned to muted exasperation.  With a flustered shrug and sigh, he said, “There’s really not much to tell.”

   And, there really wasn’t.  This wasn’t the first time the subject came up, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.  When people had learned that Al was the owner of the wreck he had arrived in, and had sold it to a salvage team for a tidy fifteen million Cs, the people closest to him wanted to know more.  That so happened to be the three people at this table. 

   The event in question was only months ago.  But the crash had happened about three years prior.   Al, himself, hadn’t even known until the only other crash survivor showed up and told him.  The fact that Al hadn’t started as part of the crew came as a shock when he related his tale.  But, the only thing Al could recount was simply being a good person, and doing what he was assigned aboard ship to the best of his abilities.  Maybe Al’s moral and ethic conduct might have been enough for the Captain of the Rose.  Casey suspected there was more to it.  But, without the captain saying something, his decision was a mystery.  Being dead, the Captain wasn’t likely to say anything on the matter.

   “Either you’re spinning a good yarn,” Darrin said, “or you’re the luckiest sonofabitch I’ve ever met.”

   Nimaj hissed.  “Language.”

   “Sorry,” Darrin replied with a slight deferred nod at his superior.

   Al’s muted mirth returned.  He stared somewhere at the table while quipping, “I take it you’re not a believing man, Darrin?”

   Darrin was taken aback.  “Well, uh,” he stammered, collecting his thoughts.

   Before he could say anymore, Nimaj perked up.  Eyes on the door to the bar, he softly backhanded Darrin on the arm to catch the other man’s attention.  Darrin looked over, prompting both Casey and Al follow his gaze. 

   “That’s them,” Nimaj practically hissed. 

   “The owners of the Pods?” Al asked in a suddenly quieter bar.

   “Talk about your Halloween surprise,” Darrin muttered.

   The place hushed as three people spread out from the door.  Hearing Nimaj’s affirmative answer to Al’s questions, Casey’s heart skipped a beat.  His chest tightened with anticipation as two men and an Asian woman worked their way to the pit entrance.  A line had formed for the next twelve combatants, with the current match just now finished, but all twelve gave way to the trio.  Once at the pit, the entire bar had gone completely silent except for the odd sound of shifting feet or drink.

   The tall handsome one spoke, while the other two flanked him, silently eyeing the crowd.  His voice was deep and smooth, very much complementing the curly dark hair and swarthy skin.  The man was a poster perfect specimen, and Casey could easily see himself following his every order, within reason.

   “You know who we are.  You know why we’re here.  Are there any challengers?”

   This was it.  This was the group Casey had come to Astrokaszy looking for years ago.  This was where he was told to find them.  According to Nimaj and Darrin and many, many others, this was how they made contact.  The very people who had brought the pods also used them as a recruiting tool.  Where they had been all this time was anybody’s guess.  But, now they were here, and Casey had his chance.

   The place was silent for a few good seconds.  Giddy with anticipation, Casey’s breath was shaky.  He could feel slight trembling in his hands as he moved to stand up. 

   But, to his sudden shock, Al was already on his feet and answering.  The young man’s sandy brown hair glinted with sun-bleaching as he rose into the full beam of a lamp.  He looked and sounded almost casual as he said, “Sure. I’ll accept your challenge.”

   Plopping back down in his chair, Casey felt numb.  Then he felt a hand on his arm.  Turning, he found Nimaj staring at him with an earnest look. 

   “Stand up.  You’ll get your turn.”

   Understanding hit Casey like a thunderbolt.  Elated, he shot to his feet.

   “I also accept your challenge,” he called, a brief quiver in his voice.

   The three waited a few more seconds, not acknowledging anyone.  Finally, the leader turned to Al and Casey.  “All right.  One at a time.”

    The leader turned and started down the stairs into the pit.

   Casey and Al exchanged glances, unsure what to do.  After a nod from Al, they both made their way toward the pit.  At the stairway entrance, Stum stopped them.  A thickly built man with a large, shaven head, Stum didn’t look like someone lazy with riches.  He dressed well, but modest, when he was working the bar proper.  He scratched at his goatee a moment before speaking.

   “Gentlemen.  The rules are first come, first serve.  Al, you spoke up first, you get first shot.  Then, you, Casey.  You’ll be facing them one at a time in a gauntlet of duels.  I don’t know what the order is.  That will be the surprise.”

   With that, Stum opened the gate to the stairs, gesturing Al to enter.

   “Let’s see if that insane luck of yours holds out,” Darrin called.

[Daemion]

More, later today.  Need a break for breakfast, though.

[Daemion]

Chapter 1 - continued

   Casey sat at a table nearest the pods occupied by Al and the three mercenaries.  While a ring of displays hung overhead for all to see, it was rigged to a cinematic AI which changed vantages from cockpit views of the pilots, to views from the cockpit, to sweeping shots of the battlefield.  As a mere program, it was very good at what it did, and made a lot of matches quite entertaining. 

   However, for those interested in what a particular somebody was doing, each pod had a dedicated monitor right behind it up on the balcony. Thankfully, all four contestants had set up side by side, and Casey was free to watch fixed footage of each showing both the cockpit and over the ’Mech’s shoulder as he pleased.

   The simulator library was extensive.  It had a dozen different terrain archetypes, which were always randomized.  It also happened to have the more popular Solaris Arenas.  However, the arena maps in the simulator had a glitch.  Most Solaris arenas were only one hundred and twenty meters wide or long, with most having a long side around two hundred meters.

   Not these simulators.  Somehow, the rendering program extended the length and width of the fields to quadruple the size.  The map for the last match had shown what was supposed to be the Boreal Reach arena.  Instead of getting a sharp, rock strewn, snow covered shoulder overlooking a deep narrow gash in glacial ice, spectators and competitors were presented with a windswept flowing tundra, broken by sharp bedrock outcrops with a draw leading to a huge glacial crevasse. All twelve contestants fought in a kilometer by half kilometer rectangle.

   In spite of the origin for the graphics, the rendering program did a great job of making it look natural.  Nothing looked oblong.  Even places with natural vegetation didn't get distorted. Instead, more plants were rendered to fill the gaps.  Places with large boulders saw more boulders.

   The current, randomly selected map was the famous Steiner Stadium.  No fancy obstacles were in place for this fight.  It was flat and open for nearly half a kilometer in each direction.  The digital audience was packed into the now extensive bleachers that ringed the field.  The famous blue shield glimmered near the emitters.

   Out in the middle, nearly a quarter kilometer apart, was Al and his first opponent.  Al piloted a Warhammer.  The coloring was tan with brown torso boxes and a few other highlights on the right shoulder launcher and left shoulder flood light. 

   The opponent was the Asian lady, in a Jenner.  Casey couldn’t help wonder if she didn’t have Combine origins.  All four contestants had turned over a data card to the SimTech, Phil, so each of the ’Mechs being run were real.  But, the she had also gone with one of the stock color schemes, a tan with white highlighting along the round shoulder/hip sections and along the visor on the domed head out front.  If she were combine, she wasn’t showing any pride in the colors of her past.

   On the digital field, the Jenner started running forward. 

   In no hurry to close, 'Hammer opened up with its particle cannons.  Both struck the Jenner, which danced side-to-side under the beams.  Only one beam actually registered damage.

   Casey winced.  He glanced over at a small crowd seated around a steel table, distracted by the noise of their surprise. They weren't the only ones surprised by the range of the particle cannons.  Most of the local yokels may have heard of some of the latest advancements filtering through the Inner Sphere since the rediscovery of LosTech.  Very few of them had ever seen it in action.  Except Casey.

   "Look at how cool the 'Hammer's running," someone commented. "But it's firing both particle cannons non-stop.  How's that possible?"

   "I've heard of these new freezers that they've been puttin' into 'Mechs, Terra-ward. I bet that's what it's mountin'," a woman said.

   "But, these pods are old!  They don't have data for that kind of gear," another man protested.

   Turning back to the display, Casey leaned his elbows on the table in front of him, and clasped both dark hands in front of his chin.  He smiled, amused by the ignorance of the crowd around him.  This kind of tech had been proliferating in the Inner Sphere for more than a decade now.  It showed the kind of backwater world Astrokaszy was. 

   Moment past, he focused on the duel portrayed in front of him.

   Indeed, the Warhammer was able to keep very cool while firing both particle cannons.  But, in spite of the crowd's amazement, the fire wasn't very effective.  Thirty seconds of continual fire, three shots from each cannon, and the Jenner still had a decent amount of armor across most of its body.  To Casey, it was an equal indication of Al's gunnery, as well as the piloting skill of the light pilot.

   Still, the Jenner was now in range to fire its own weapons and wasn't wasting time.  Watching the battle as a spectator, the next twenty seconds happened too quickly.  As a 'Mech pilot, Casey knew that if he were fighting, that time seemed like an eternity.  The Jenner had ‘alpha’ed, firing everything it had, once in optimal range.  So had the Warhammer, stepping forward to meet its opponent.  It was a spectacular light show of burning red lasers, and blue particle beams.

   "Why didn't the big one fire its shoulder rockets?" a woman asked from somewhere behind Casey.

   "Look at the weapons layout.  It doesn't have rockets," her partner replied.

   "But...! Then why does the 'Mech have that shoulder box?"

   Casey smiled a close-lipped smile, again, at hearing a spectator's confusion.  It widened into a grin when he saw the results from the fire exchange. The Jenner was running hot, and so was the Warhammer.  The big difference was that the Warhammer didn't have any big holes in its chest, or anywhere else.  The Jenner's front armor was compromised and the engine was pouring out waste heat, according to the internal heat indicators on display.  During a cinematic shot in Infrared, both 'Mechs glowed.  The only indicators.  In the digital environment, the armored hides of both ’Mechs simply darkened where the beams hit. 

    It was all the Jenner's radiators could do to bleed off what poured out of the engine shielding.  With no way to compensate for any other kind of action, the only way the light 'Mech could cool off was to idle down.  To her credit, the Jenner pilot went for one more exchange of fire before shutdown alarms blared.  Then she had no choice.

   One of the pods near Casey’s table stopped.  Overhead, in the virtual environment, the Jenner shut down and disappeared.  She gave up.

   Around him, many of the spectators cursed or booed.  They hadn't expected this.  Nor wanted it, judging by the ferocity of some of the curses.  Some people had lost a good deal of money on this particular exchange. 

   It was understandable.  Al may have worked his way up to a simulator champion, here at the Crossroads.  But, that didn’t mean much considering the general skill level of his opponents, who didn’t get the same amount of simulator time, he did while working as a bouncer after his arrival and display of physical prowess three years back. 

   But, these mercenaries were legendary in these parts.  There were extensive stories about their dealings with the local nomads and a few sultans.  These three people were largely responsible for keeping the pods where they are, in spite of some interesting odds.  Most people believed those legends.

   From the inside pod display, Casey watched the slender, graceful form remove the bulky neural helmet.  Her black hair was matted with sweat, and her Asian features were slightly contorted in anger.  With hasty motions she popped the hatch.

   Casey couldn't help a small chuckle. 

   Then, on screen, a new opponent appeared.  Casey's smile disappeared, and anxiety tightened in his gut at what he saw.  It wasn't the Phoenix Hawk that had him worried.  It was impressive enough, the custom scheme looking like the humanoid ’Mech was hollow, a doorway to a raging inferno.  They psychadellic holographic look forced Casey to do a double take after confirming what he saw on Al’s monitor.

   Casey was worried by the fact that the Warhammer hadn't been reset. It was still hot from its last exchange, and the damage still scarred its form.  This was a gauntlet.  They were sending Al straight from one duel to the next.

   According to Darran, any challenger wanting to get hired by this mercenary unit only had to beat one 'Mech.  Al had already done that.  Still, that didn't ease Casey's mind.  In a lot of ways, he had a lot riding on this fight. 

   He wanted Al to give a good impression.  It was Casey's training that had gotten the kid this far.  If he didn't fare well after a fight with a light 'Mech, what did that say of Casey's skills? It didn’t help that he was out in the periphery, looking for work to begin with, and this group was the only one he was told he could trust with his unique background.  If Al didn’t impress, then how much harder would Casey have it when his turn came? In spite of Darran’s assurances, were the rules for this entrance exam rock solid?

   Casey tried to calm himself.  Ignoring the chatter around him, he took a deep breath and focused on the duel to come.  Al had handled himself admirably, this far, in spite of the glaring difference in skills.  Surely he would be able to beat a second 'Mech. 

   Gasps and cries of surprise erupted when Al's hot 'Hammer took off at a speed uncharacteristic for that chassis.  Considering his heat monitor was almost a third full, Casey understood the shock.  A nervous smile twitched the corners of his mouth.

   Then, the Phoenix Hawk brought its own surprise to the game, beyond the custom holographic Gateway to Hell look.

   Normally, the Pixie had a matching set of laser and machine gun in each wrist.  Instead, this one fired missiles.  A pair of SRMs flashed out from each wrist, in addition to the large laser beam from the hand-gun in the right fist.  The beam struck harmlessly off the left torso while the Warhammer jinked in its forward rush. 

   The missiles, on the other hand, flashed into giant balls of fire which splashed and covered the Warhammer. The burning fluid quickly spread to cover as much of Al’s machine as gravity would allow.  The flames burned all over, many little dancing tongues of orange and yellow and white. 

   Casey heard Al laugh sadistically before saying, "Thanks for the light!"

   Then, Al fired his own weapons, a strange mix of a single particle cannon and some of the lasers.

   "What the...! Why the lasers?" someone asked, incredulously. "They're hopelessly out of range!"

   Casey smiled. 

   In spite of the fire cooking all over Al's ’Mech, it's heat barely fluctuated, staying where it was.  The Warhammer was ingeniously designed.  It was a testament to the technician team that built the design that it worked as well as it did with Triple Strength Myomer, or that they managed to find the specs to manufacture their own.  But, Al had been the one to come up with the general design, which surprised Casey.  How did such a young man know that such performance was possible when the technology was still relatively unknown and new?

   Could it be from his time on Terra?

   The young sim jockey was using the Inferno fire to his advantage, selectively firing certain mixes of lasers and Extended Range PPCs to keep the TSM in its sweet spot.  From the reaction on the Pixie pilot’s monitor, the opponent knew it, too.

   Then the fight was over.  In the seconds it took the crowd to comment, both 'Mechs had closed, the Pheonix Hawk switching to standard SRMs.  His mistake. 

   The Warhammer closed in a jog, firing all six chest lasers, two ER mediums and four standard smalls.  Coming up on the Pixie's right, Al swung the cannon barrels which made up either lower arm.  Like a club wielded by a ball-player, the right arm swung up and wide, flattening the Pixie's head along the way.  The follow-up punch from the left arm speared the light 'Mech through the back.

   Showy and unnecessary, but since each was a split second apart, it was effective. 

   The crowd around Casey was stunned silent.  It even took him a moment to register that this round was over.  Not even a third of a minute had passed. 

   When he did understand, a heartbeat later, elation filled through Casey's chest, making his head light.  He slumped back in his chair and openly laughed.  Al had passed Casey's test.

   People around him were reacting differently.  Some muttered appreciation at the final attack.  Some booed or complained loudly, not understanding how such an attack was possible. Casey understood.  Even a Phoenix Hawk had enough head protection to survive a punch from a Warhammer.  No single punch from any seventy ton 'Mech could cause such complete damage the first time.  But, Casey also knew that with the right equipment, such an attack was possible from a seventy ton 'Mech.

   Casey prepared to stand, expecting to be called over for his shot at the trio.  However, the simulation kept running.  Instead, the third opponent took the field while the Phoenix Hawk vanished before hitting the ground. 

   The fight wasn’t over.  Nor was the damage on Al’s ’Mech reset.

   The new opponent was something long lost during the Succession Wars, only to be revived recently.  It also outweighed the seventy ton Warhammer by twenty tons.  A Highlander BattleMech could easily be one of the forces behind the legends.  This one sported a stock olive drab scheme, honoring its Star League origin.  Judging from the readout, it was a vintage 732, which carried the rare and powerful Gauss Rifle.  A lucky shot to the cockpit on any ’Mech was a game-ender.

   The next 'Mech was a real worry, but Casey no longer cared.  A damaged heavy 'Mech versus a pristine assault 'Mech, like a Highlander, didn't stand a chance.  Even more so, if that Highlander was manned by a veteran with decent gunnery.  Casey assumed this one was.

   Leaning back, his mind was numb while he took in the match.  The questions that raced through his mind didn’t retain his focus.  It didn't matter.  Al performed to Casey’s expectations. Casey wasn’t willing to speculate at the intentions behind the continued gauntlet.  He had to trust in Darran’s words.  Al would be hired as soon as this match was over, win or lose. 

   Watching idly, Casey could see that the mercenary commander Al now faced was very much a good marksman, putting landing shots with both the legendary gauss rifle and the large, twenty-rocket, missile pack.  Al's armor was taking heavy damage all over the place.  Al’s skills were good enough that the Warhammer kept its footing while marching forward under the barrage, landing intermittent shots with its own PPCs.

   Then the unexpected happened.

   The Highlander took an unexpected fall.  Casey looked up, taking in the stats from the different displays, trying to understand what just happened.  Then he saw the gyro was completely knocked out on the assault ’Mech.  The Highlander's armor was hardly damaged, but it was already crippled.  Al had, with more uncanny luck than any real skill, found a weak spot in the Highlander's chest plate.

   Excited, Casey jumped from his chair, whooping, striking a fist at empty air.

   Noticing the mixed looks from sour and condescending faces, he quickly took his seat.  A minute passed while, missing an arm, Al worked his Warhammer into a position where the Highlander could never return fire while it was on the ground.  It was quickly shot and kicked to pieces.

   From across the bar, Casey heard Darran drawl out, “Unbelievable.”

[Daemion]

Chapter 1 - continued

   Down in the Pod Pit, Casey held the disk containing ROM Data and specs for his personal GRF-3M Griffin.  A relatively new design, it also featured some advanced technologies that the Pod’s general database didn’t have.  While handing it off to Phil, he observed the interplay between the mercs and Al after he got out.

   The Asian woman and second man were unreadable.  But, the leader looked openly happy and amused.  He stepped close and slapped Al’s bare arm. 

   Each of the Mercs, as well as Al, had changed into shorts and tank tops.  Even Casey was less dressed than he had been up in the balcony.  The academy-grade pods simulated almost everything about a BattleMech to a T.  That included the general heat output of so many computers in close confinement, which required something stronger than strict air-conditioning to keep the pilot cool and comfortable.  Everyone in the pit, except Phil, wore coolant vests, which hooked into the appropriate simulator.  The AC piped into the pit to help cool the mainframe running the pods was almost a little too cool for comfort.

   “That was amazing,” the merc leader said with a laugh.  “I haven’t seen anything like that in a long time.  Sorry to put you through all that, but I was itching to get in a little sim-time, too.  The rule stands, though.  You only needed to beat one of us.  Wait up for us while we run a match with the other guy.”  He pointed to Casey.

   Al nodded and turned to leave. 

   “It wouldn’t change anything to tell you I taught him everything he knows, would it?” Casey quipped while stepping toward his pod.

   When all three mercs looked at him, he smiled.  He meant it more as a joke, to help keep things light, and was surprised when the merc leader took himseriously.

   “Is that so?”

   Al paused, and replied, “More or less.”

   “I can vouch for that,” Nimaj’s voice called down from overhead.

   The merc leader eyed Nimaj, then studied Casey a moment. 

[Daemion]

Sorry that took so long to get put together.  Some of this I'm writing from scratch, while some of it is editing old material.

Anyway, quick note, Darrin should be Darran, though it's pronounced the same.

Alius is pronounced like Elias (uh-lye-us).

Attached is the complete chapter one with that correction made to the first part.

Enjoy. More to come next week.

[Daemion]

Chapter 2

Stum's Bar
Crossroad’s Oasis
Astrokazsy
7 February 3056

   Nimaj tapped at the sign-up board.  A spot which was normally his didn’t have his name on it.  Sign-up for the free-for-alls didn’t start until the morning of the event.  Nimaj was good at sending his people early, because they were usually taken in the first ten minutes of the bar’s opening.  So, someone had to have beaten his fellow tribesman to the sign-up.

   He looked at the name in place of his.

   Alius Cad’ver. 

   Odd spelling.  Nimaj mulled over how it was pronounced while he surveyed the assemblage.  Stum’s Bar was packed, as usual.  There were plenty of new faces. 

   He nodded to his bodyguard and friend, Darran Grinn, tilting his head toward the bar proper.  The two found an open spot and leaned in.  Stum stepped over to inquire of his customers. 

   “Someone’s taken my spot,” Nimaj said.

   Stum understood what Nimaj meant.  As a free-for-all regular, Nimaj’s spot was a given.  Nobody touched it.

   Stum pointed, and Nimaj’s gaze followed.  Seated at a table near a far wall was the ignorant new arrival.  Young, probably in his twenties, the newcomer wore something loosely resembling a combat uniform representing no recognizable force.

   Nimaj was well versed in uniforms.  Astrokaszy brought in adventurers from almost every military branch known to man due to the rumors of LosTech and the prospect of a rich find.  He was sure he had never seen a blue tunic under a drab ballistic vest complimented by desert tan cargo trousers.  Yet, true to military form, it had enough pockets and belts to hold any gear a field soldier might need.  The way everything was unbuttoned, unzipped and untucked suggested the young man wasn't expecting to be in a fight any time soon.

   Nimaj signaled Darran, and started across the room. 

   The young stranger shared the table with a couple of regulars.  The way he slumped in his chair, not saying much as the regulars chatted suggested that this Mister Cad’ver didn’t normally associate with them.  Regardless, all three heads looked up when Nimaj’s imposing figure cast a shadow over their table. 

   Nimaj was a big guy.  From hardy Nordic stock, he was the tallest, largest man in the room.  Few others matched him.  And, he liked to use that to effect.  The turban and cloak he wore over his normal clothes also lent to the image, suggesting he was as savage as the stories surrounding his nomadic lifestyle indicated.

   Nimaj scowled down at the newcomer with barely contained irritation.  “You took my spot.”

   This time all heads in the bar turned in Nimaj’s direction.  The place went quiet.  Part of Nimaj was a little miffed that he had just become this moment’s pre-game entertainment.

   The newcomer's blue eyes looked up unflinching and uncaring.  He glanced down at his steel chair while commenting.  "Funny.  I don't see a name written here, anywhere.  But, if this is your favorite spot, I guess I can move."

   His flat, clean accent definitely painted him as an off-worlder.

   This prompted a couple chuckles from the crowd, including one at this very table.

   Nimaj's prominent Nordic brow furled, darkening his eyes further. "I mean in tonight's games.  You took my spot.  I want it back."

   The newbie shrugged.  "Well.  I suppose we can talk to the owner and have him swap our spots."

   "You don't understand, stranger," Stum's voice echoed across the open room. "Tonight's roster is full up.  I don't have a spot."

   “It’s first come, first served, Nimaj,” a man said from behind him, somewhere among the crowded tables.  “Let it go.”

   “But,” Nimaj said, lightening his tone.  He didn’t take his eyes off Mr. Cad’ver.  “He said he would swap spots with me.”  He adopted a grateful tone, playing the dumb local, seeing if the ruse might actually work.  "You would do this?  The son of Nimaj never forgets those who aid him."

   The stranger turned his gaze to the table.  He looked deep in thought.  Then his sandy brown eyebrows knitted as he came to a decision.

   "No.  I honestly was looking forward to this.  I've never been in one of those things, but always wanted to try."  He lightened up.  "Look. You're here a lot, right?  I might not be here next week.  It's just one night."

   This was the moment Nimaj expected.  He let his expression harden into a grim mask.

   "Then I challenge you for it.”

   The stranger didn't rise to the challenge right away.  For a moment, he looked sad, reflective.  Finally, he asked, "Are you sure?"

   "Yes," Nimaj said.

   "Sounds fair," the stranger said with a shrug.

   "Not in here!"  When everyone looked to the bar owner, Stum eyed his two security men.  They were already on their feet.  There was plenty of room in the bar for a brawl, but Stum didn't take any chances with his money-making set-up.

   Nimaj and the stranger moved toward the door, and more than half of the nearly dozen patrons followed.

   As a nomad, Nimaj knew how to fight in a lot of ways.  The son of the leader of a nomadic band, however, he was never alone.  Darran and another spectator were there to keep Nimaj safe.  Darran was a grizzled veteran with an eye patch.  In spite of being on Astrokaszy for a couple years now, his distinctive outback drawl still held strong while he huddled close to Nimaj, giving needless advice that Nimaj had learned a long time ago. The other made his appearance, keeping close.  Khamal’s hawk-like face turned, dark eyes roving over the crowd and the stranger.  He paused momentarily to nod a conciliatory bow, letting Nimaj know he understood his failure from this morning. 

   It was mid-afternoon, the sun well on its way to the horizon.  Crossroads was at the edge of the desert, where the rolling grass hills slowly dried out to turn into wind-swept dunes.  The streets were of sand and dirt packed hard from travel and baked dry from the heat.  A refreshing breeze sweep in from the north.

   The stranger, though he showed no emotional signs of discomfort, was already sweating profusely.

   Darran finished his advice, slapping Nimaj on the shoulder.

   Everyone else save the stranger backed away when Nimaj stepped forward.

   Nodding to the gun harnessed on the stranger's thigh, Nimaj said, "Since I challenged, I give you the honor of choosing your weapon."

   Looking down at the gun, the stranger reached down and unfastened the holster. Eyeing the rest of the crowd, he settled on Darran.  "Here," he said, and tossed it.  The vet caught it, surprise written on his face.  "I want it back," Mr. Cad’ver said.  To Nimaj, "I'm fine as I am.  Take whatever weapon you want."

   Someone whistled, and many people murmured.

   Nimaj nodded, studying the stranger further.  Finally, he said, "Fisticuffs, it is."

   With a nod from the stranger, the fight was officially on.  But, from the way the young man stood there, nobody would have guessed.  He took up no stance.  He didn't even tense up. With no weapon in hand, he was completely open, and didn't seem to care.

   Though he felt elation and mirth at the man’s apparent lack of skill, Nimaj was a study in caution and form.  His arms came up in a guard, and he slowly inched forward until he was just in reach.

   With Nimaj’s greater size, he anticipated this would end quickly.

   To his surprise, Nimaj's first swing missed.  A jab square at the stranger's head didn't lay him out on the ground like it should have.  But Mr. Cad’ver had barely moved.  He didn't flinch.  He didn't even step away.

   Unphased, Nimaj took advantage of his greater reach, and loosed a flurry of blows.  Like a tall strand of grass in the soft desert wind, Mr. Cad’ver weaved fluidly around each blow.  Shots at his face met empty air.  Body blows only caressed cloth.

   Switching tactics, Nimaj lunged in, arms wide, to tackle.  This time the stranger moved.  Like a fabled matador in trivid documentaries, he spun aside.  With a deft motion he pushed Nimaj sprawling into the loose sand along the street edge, then stepped away.

   Though normally honorable, Nimaj wasn't averse to taking advantage of any and every advantage he could get.  Some of Darran’s advice was that anything was potentially a weapon.  Mr. Cad’ver had given him permission to use whatever he wanted.  His fingers closed around a pile of sand while he rose.  Twisting, he whipped it into the stranger's face.

   An arm went up to block the attack, but it wasn't enough to keep granules out of Mr. Cad’ver’s eyes.  The stranger blinked rapidly, tears running down his cheeks.  Nimaj wasted no time, using his distraction to get close and grapple with his opponent.

   Too late, Nimaj realized suddenly that the stranger's hands never went to his face.  Without looking, just as Nimaj was on top of him, the newcomer let out a quick series of five blows that deflected Nimaj's tackle, arrested his motion, and sent him to the ground amidst a sea of stars.
   



   It happened so fast that none of the bystanders was sure exactly what happened.  No amount of careful recollection could recreate the sequence of blows Mr. Cad’ver had used. 

   In his stupor, Nimaj did here his two men trying to wake him.  He was just cognizant enough to here Mr. Cad’ver utter concern over his fallen foe. 

   "Awe crap! He isn't dead, is he?"

   Nimaj stirred enough to sit up, but it took a few more seconds to clear his senses.

   Darran looked up and shook his head. "No."

   "Good," Mr. Cad’ver said.



   As the newcomer strapped his gun back around his hip, a tall dark man approached him.  This was another new arrival, but Nimaj had seen him at the bar for the past few months.  This man called himself Casey. 

   "So, stranger, know anything about piloting a BattleMech?" Casey asked.

   Nimaj was momentarily confused by the question.  With all the dispossessed roaming Astrokazsy, it was a good assumption that someone who could fight with such ease was equally proficient in a BattleMech cockpit.  Word was going to spread before the games began of Mr. Cad’ver’s display of prowess.

   Everyone would be betting on the new guy.

   The thought made Nimaj pay closer attention to the exchange.

   Taking a moment to rub his eyes once again, Cad’ver muttered, "Gah. This is going to be annoying."  Blinking, he looked Casey over with teary, red eyes.  Shrugging, he smiled and answered.  "Only what I've read about and seen in video games."

   Casey blinked, staring blaknkly for the few seconds it took for the information to sink in.  Then, he laughed.  He turned away, his laughter building.

   "Is this true?" Nimaj asked, serious.  The sudden ache from the action forced him to bring a hand up to his head.  However, this was a major concern.  This man had his spot, and he won it fairly.  Nimaj continued voicing his thoughts.  “You don't stand a chance.” He paused to look over Mr. Cad’ver.  “We have time.  I can teach you.  Give you some pointers."

   "This from the guy whose spot I beat him to?" the stranger asked.

   "You won it fair.  The son of Nimaj honors his losses as well as his wins.  You have my spot, now you can fight and win in my name.”

   Casey quieted himself, suppressing fits of laughter into giggles.  "This I want to see. In fact, I'll buy you a round in the pods.  Let's see if you can master a crash course in piloting.”

   The stranger looked at Casey, then at Nimaj and his two followers. "Sure. Why not?"

   "Then come with me, friend," Nimaj said.  "What is your name?"

   "Elias Cadver," he said. "Call me Al."
   


   Nimaj and Casey stood next to Stum's master technician observing the simulator control terminal.  Al sat in a borrowed chair, a neurohelmet covering his head, obscuring everything but his eyes and nose peaking through the open faceplate.  It was hooked into the master terminal by a thick cable bundle.

   The tech, Phil 'Zip Finger' Denton fiddled with controls while watching wavy lines fluctuating on a projected holowindow.  At first eager to set up someone new, the almond skinned Free Worlder looked increasingly frustrated.  Casey and Nimaj exchanged glances.

   "Alright," Zip said, his nasal voice resigned.  "We're done."

   Al pulled the helmet off his shoulders and stood up to look at the screen.

   "I'm sorry," Zip added.  "You're incompatible.  I don't understand.  Most people register enough signal.  Your nerve impulses seem muted somehow.  Barely distinguishable."

   "Wait," Al said.  "Muted?"

   He handed the helmet to Nimaj, reached up and popped his head to the left.  Working his shoulders a bit, Al reached for the helmet again.  Puzzled, Nimaj let him put it back on.  Al sat down and said to Zip, "Try one more time."

   Zip looked dubious.  He shot longing glances at Casey and Nimaj, asking for somebody to step in.  When neither offered to speak reason, Zip sighed.  "All right," he said, resigned.

   He started the process all over again. "Whoa!"

   His exclamation was immediate.  Nimaj and Casey both leaned in to see.  The original nearly flat lines were wildly active, fluctuating all up and down the scale.

   "What did you do?" Nimaj asked, impressed.

   "A technique I learned to increase awareness of my surroundings," came Al's muffled answer.

   "Well, it worked," Zip said, excited.  "You don't wear prosthetics, do you?"

   Al looked up at Zip.  He raised his hands.  "Does it look like I have prosthetics?"

   "Huh.  Funny.  Only time I've seen impulses this strong is on people who've worn bionics for years.  Something about the interface forces the body to create stronger signal output."  He looked Al over one more time.  "You look too young for that kind of familiarity.  Some of the older vets have signals like this.  Anyway, that's it."

   Al took off the helmet and stood, taking off the helmet one more time.

   "Your file is in the system," Zip continued.  "It will always be available whenever you want."

   "Good," Nimaj said. "Time for you to learn the controls.  Zip?"

   "Which pod do you want?  And what ’Mech do you prefer?" 

   "You wouldn't happen to have a Warhammer in the system, would you?" Al asked.

[Daemion]

A New Home

Stum’s Bar
Cross Road’s Oasis
Astrokaszy
31 October 3058


   Stum’s Bar had an interesting layout.  Once the town hall for Crossroads Oasis, the public amphitheater used for public speaking and other events or presentations was dug into the ground.  The balcony housing the bar proper was actually the ground floor, and it also had some office rooms in the wings leading from the bar.  These rooms were often used for private gatherings, though Stum had a couple offices reserved, one for back-stock, the other for his own business.

   To Casey’s surprise, the mercenary commander had taken him seriously.  Instead of putting Casey through the gauntlet, the took one more call for challenges.  When none came, the merc commander asked for a room, beckoning Nimaj and Darran to follow. 

   The group was giving use of a large conference room. A central table carved from local wood and lacquered to smooth perfection sat in dark complement to the dark green paint on the walls and the colored-glass diffusers tinting the overhead lights a rainbow of shades on all surfaces.  The windows to the outside were curtained, but any gap showed that nighttime had fallen outside. 

   Once everyone had taken a seat, the mercenary commander had turned to Nimaj and asked about being able to vouch for Casey and Al.  Nimaj promptly started recounting how he first met Al, and incidentally, Casey.  During the brief tale, Casey watched the three mercs react.

   The Asian seemed to perk up at the story of Al’s close combat prowess.  The other guy was unreadable.  The commander, however, was an open book, impressed where he needed to be, enraptured the rest.

   “So, that’s how you met,” he said.  “Over a duel.”

   Nimaj and Darran both nodded.

   “And, did he perform as you expected?”

   Nimaj shot Darran an apologetic look. 

   “No. He was taken out early,” Darran said.

   “But not before TACing your engine out completely,” Nimaj said barely containing his mirth.

   “The kid is insane lucky,” Darran’s outback drawl thickened.

   “Hang on,” Al said, interrupting.  “Before we go any further, can I get your names?  Right now, I’m thinking of you as Carmen,” he pointed to the leader, “Antonio,” he pointed to the other guy, “and Lucy,” he indicated the Asian woman. 

   “My apologies,” the commander said.  “I was under the impression you knew who we were.”

   Al was already shaking his head. “Nope. Not a clue. But, I’m new around here.”

   The commander was speechless for a second.  The other two shifted ever slightly.

   “Well. Let’s correct that.  I’m Damien Strangeman,” the commander indicated himself.  “My associates are Javier San Paul and Rumiko Nakagami.”

   Al smirked.  “Strangeman?  That’s not your real name, is it?”

   “No, it’s not,” Damien said with a smile.

   “No more real than Alius Cad’ver,” Javier said, his Spanish accent noticeable.  “I give you points for creative spelling.  But, ‘Another Name for a Dead Man’ isn’t something parents give to their children.  And, I strongly suspect Cad’ver isn’t a real surname.  Much like I highly doubt Putnam is your real surname.”

   Casey froze, taken aback by the forthright confrontation.  What was really sad was that the accusation leveled at him wasn’t true.  He was actually using his proper name.  But, he decided to roll with it, since most of the people present were apparently under assumed names. 

   Damien held out his hands in a placating gesture.  “As you can see, we’re used to people having things they’d rather not let out in public.  It only becomes a matter of whether those things will come to hurt our operation.”  He turned back to Nimaj.  “You said you could vouch for them.”

   “I can,” Nimaj replied with a nod. 

   “Do they have their own ’Mechs?”  Damien’s stare was intense. 

   Nimaj didn’t flinch.  In fact, he looked equally excited, though his response was bland.  “Yes.”

   “So, the Warhammer’s real?”  Javier said, eyebrows raised.  “I will want to see the specs on that.”

   “In due time,” Damien said with a quick glance at Al, before returning his gaze to the tribal leader’s son.  “But, is it true?”

   Nimaj nodded.

   The intense gaze blinked before turning on Casey. He felt the scrutiny, and forced himself not to squirm.  He still took the cue.

   “I pilot a newer GRF-3M Griffin,” he said.

   Javier and Damien both nodded appreciation.

   “Good,” Damien said.  “Gentlemen, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for people like you to show up.  If you’re willing, I’d like to hire you on as part of my mercenary team.”

   Casey nodded, lightly at first, but increasing the depth so that his intent was clear.

   Al studied Casey a moment, then the mercs.  Finally, he nodded and said, “Sure.”  He turned a touch more serious than normal.  “But, if I don’t like a mission or a particular order, will we have problems if I refuse to take it?”

   Damien turned diplomatic.  “Don’t worry.  You’ll be on a probation for a couple months anyway, so you’ll be free to leave at any time.  I’m sure we can work a clause into your contract.  But, I don’t think you’re going to be disappointed in the work we do.”

   Al studied Damien a few seconds longer before nodding.  “All right.  I’ll give it a shot.”

   Damien smiled openly.  “Excellent.”  He pointed at Casey.  “We’ll want to run you through your paces, as well, but that won’t affect your status.  Probably best we do it during the day.”  He looked everyone over.  “Let’s go have some fun in the sim matches.  Tomorrow morning, you get to see our headquarters, and your new home.”
* * *

[Daemion]

Chapter 2's not done yet.  But, I put up what I have to tide you over until I do.

[Daemion]

Chapter 2 - Continued


Legion of the Damned Nomadic Territory
Dragonback Ridge
Astrokaszy
1 November 3058

   Crossroads Oasis was a small town of only a few hundred people.  However, it was situated at the end of one of Astrokaszy’s major mountain chains, at the transition point from the rolling, fertile Nishihara plains to the harsh, hard-scrabble and dune-covered Estersand Dune Sea desert.  It was as its name implied, a cross-road, equal parts stopping point for nomadic bands and trade hub.

   About a mile outside of town, deep in the desert foothills, Casey and Al hopped out of Nimaj’s jeep.  A couple more wheeled vehicles sat nearby, a small number of men and women dressed for the heat and sun manning heavy weapons mounted in the back or sporting firearms of their own.  They had greeted Nimaj’s jeep warily, until he showed himself. 

   Behind them, in kneeling positions, sat two BattleMechs. 

   Casey and Al had hired Nimaj’s people to safeguard their BattleMechs while the two MechWarriors were in town.  After the fateful day that Al showed up, Nimaj and Darran had proven themselves in Casey’s eyes. There had been a risk that the two dispossessed nomads could have tried taking the two machines for their own ends. 

   Astrokaszy wasn’t a very civilized world, unlike many inside the Inner Sphere. Out beyond the Free World’s League rim-ward border, it was a frontier world, and gateway to many smaller, uncharted systems that had fallen backward in time, technologically.  Out here, dated tanks and jeeps or even mounted animal cavalry were no match for a cutting edge BattleMech.  The various warlords and self-styled sultans dotting the Astrokaszy countryside with their city-states maintained their meagre power with just a handful. 

   “The Legion of the Damned keeps its bargains,” Nimaj said when Casey got out.

   “I expected nothing less from someone I consider a friend,” Casey replied. 

   “And, once you are mounted up, we will guide you to the mercenary compound, as also agreed.”

   Casey smiled and started toward his Griffin.  When he had purchased it, he’d had it painted in blue on the heavy armor plates, with white on the transitional points along the limbs.  He had wanted to honor his service lineage and Lyran heritage.  The look made it appear that much more human, like a space man in heavy armor. 

   It stood out against the browns and tans of the surrounding desert hills.  But, so too, did Al’s Warhammer with its dark blue scheme and dark gray highlights on the boxy side torsos and around the arm’s gun ports.

   “We won’t be hiding very well on the way,” Casey mused. 

   “It’s a BattleMech,” Darran drawled.  “They’re not meant for hiding.  Or stealth.”

   Casey conceded the point with a nod and started his climb up the Griffin’s lowered arm.

* * *


 
Legion of the Damned Territory
Dragon Back Mountain Range
Astrokaszy
1 November 3058

   The Dragon Back range was given its name by a surveyor with a fanciful imagination when he saw it from a distance.  Upon first arrival, Casey agreed that it looked like the spined back of a giant lizard out of fantasy.  Up close, it still kept that feel only loosely.  Small piles of loose rock were scattered everywhere.  There were also well-worn trails from the passage of nomad vehicles and animals. 

   Nimaj’s Legion of the Damned kept their jeeps to these trails, making the three hours of travel relatively easy, even for BattleMechs.  The Griffin kept an easy seventy KPH.  Al’s Warhammer, on Casey’s left also kept pace, though, true to design, it was running a tad warm according to the holographic HUD overlay.  Casey had given it a try one day, under the designer’s supervision.  The cockpit remained comfortable in spite of any weapons output or sustained internal heat build-up. 

   Of course, that was true for any proper military hardware.  The way actors and actresses in the various historical dramas and action adventure flicks burst into sweat was purely HoloWood trick to make the good-looking people look better.  He heard and felt the coolant vest start up a cycle.  Hooked into his newer model helmet, not only did his torso start to feel the refreshing cool touch, but his scalp and neck as well.

   The Griffin’s cockpit was relatively open and airy, having a giant, reinforced glass bubble canopy.  It offered a great view that was only useful when the Neurohelment wasn’t covering Casey’s entire head.  But, the coolant vest and linked neural helmet were required in the cockpit.  It had less to do with the sunlight or ambient desert heat, which Casey didn’t really feel. 

   All the computers were crammed into any available space, like between his thighs, along the walls by his legs, behind the command couch and even in front of him.  The strongest AC in the world would only cool a person’s exposed skin, and with so many close heat sources pumping out body-level heat, something more efficient had been required in the BattleMech’s design.  Though an AC system did keep the air breathable, the coolant vest covered the torso and remained in constant contact with the skin.  Even the command couch would get drastically uncomfortable after a few hours, absorbing and reflecting a pilot’s body heat.  The coolant vest kept that from happening, and was a standard feature in all ’Mechs, including industrial.

   In the distance, Nimaj’s lead jeep took a hard right, turning west.  The trail seemed well worn, looking more like an old road that had aged with only intermittent use.  They were now travelling up hill, heading deep into the Dragon Back Mountains.

     “Only another half-hour’s travel,” Nimaj announced over the radio.

 

   As Casey’s Griffin topped the edge of a rise he spotted the makings of a base.  It was a large flat tarmac at the bottom of a valley between three mountain tops.  It was big enough to support any dropship with VSToL capabilities.  On one far end, at the base of a cliff, he spotted the remains of an upward leaning conveyor.  He recognized it from his experience in the shipping business.  The belt was gone, leaving only the rollers and side rails.  It came out of a building that was built into the cliff face.  Next to that building were a couple of doors.  One was low and flat, tall enough to allow a wide variety of conventional ground vehicles.  The other was tall enough to allow a single BattleMech through at a time.

   “Looks like an old mining complex,” Al commented aloud over the comms.  “Will be interesting if we have to fight our way out of this.”

   “No need to worry,” Nimaj answered, his voice raspy from wind passing over his mic.  “And, you’re correct about the nature of this place.”

   Ahead, the Legion jeeps approached the larger door, which started to split open.  The doors widened, casting light on a built-up and reinforced interior.  The building on the outside extended inward, showing windows and doors both lit and dark.  The tarmac continued inward, split only by the tracks for the heavy-duty blast doors.  On the opposite side were ’Mech gantries, as well as a large area full of crates in piles and stacks.  Deeper in, the tunnel continued at a shallow slope, ending with a giant concrete wall blocking off the mine proper.

   The gantries were double sided, and six long, making for twelve total cubicles.  Four were already occupied.  Casey recognized the Highlander and Jenner, though their colors didn’t match what he’d seen in last night’s simulator match.  One other light ’Mech looked in ready condition.  It was a Firestarter with stylized flames working up its legs and arms over a dark paintscheme.  Two glowing eyes were painted on the head just above the viewports.  The last ’Mech didn’t look operational, the head completely missing.  It was a Crusader, though Casey couldn’t tell what variant. 

   He strongly suspected the missing head had everything to do with the mercenary absence for the last couple years.

   “My grandfather discovered this place, and the Legion of the Damned took it over, fixed it up and made it our home.  Welcome to our capitol and home base.  Pick out a gantry and park your ride.”



   On the ground, Nimaj waited for Casey and Al.

   Casey didn’t wait to speak.  He had been hanging with Nimaj long enough that he felt like they were good friends, and he wanted to make sure he understood what was going on.  “I’d heard that you had bested them in a sim challenge.  I always wondered what they offered you for winning.  So, you let them stay here?”

   Nimaj smiled ruefully.  “It was my father who won and made the arrangements.  We normally keep the details secret from outsiders.”  He looked Casey and Al over with a quick glance.  “But, since you’re now on their payroll, I suppose I can make an exception.”

   He gestured for them to follow while he walked toward the interior building.  Casey guessed it was once the office and barracks for the mining firm that ran the place god-knows how long ago.  As they walked, Nimaj talked, and the place darkened with a clang as the ’Mech bay doors shut off the outside world.  The temperature also dropped a couple degrees.

   “Our tribe started out as a group of dispossessed wanderers, here looking for the rumors of LosTech treasure.  I was born into the tribe, like many of the other younger members, but a lot of the elders, like my father and grandfather, remember what it is like to have been a MechWarrior, and look forward to that day again.  We still take in strays who have a similar history.  In fact, we picked up a couple women wandering in the Westersands a couple days back. 

   “Anyway, my father won one of the mercenary challenges.  When they learned he didn’t have a ’Mech, they were about to leave.  When they learned he was the leader of a nomad tribe with a secret base, they changed their mind.  The deal arranged was that they would have a safe place to stay while here on Astrokaszy.  In exchange, we would get first dibbs on manning any functional salvage they brought back.”

   Nimaj paused, and gave each warrior a stern look.  “You can imagine that if everyone knew about this, they would be scouring the sands trying to find our base to join.  So, I want your promise to remain silent about this matter.”

   Casey and Al both nodded and assented to keeping the secret.

   The tribe was sizable, numbering around one hundred and change, a mix of adults and children.  A few were out in the cavern when Casey and Al had arrived with the Jeeps.  Many more were spilling out of doorways to have a look at the new arrivals as they approached the building.  Many of the kids were racing across the tarmac to have a closer look at the new ’Mechs in spite of vocal protests from different parents. 

   Casey only recognized the ones that traveled to Crossroads with Nimaj.  They greeted him, and he greeted them back.  He got introductions to family a couple times.  Many others kept a respectful distance.  All of them looked like capable fighters, and Casey expected he would get to know the rest in time.

   Nimaj cut the remainder of the meet and greet short with a comment and a wave.  To Casey and Al, he said, “Quarters have been arranged already.  I’ll take you to them first, so you may change before I take you to Damien.”

* * *
 

[Daemion]

Chapter 2 - Continued


   Down a long hallway populated lightly with members of the tribe and their family members, Al and Casey were led into one of the many doors which regularly lined the corridor.  The room was modest, with only a pair of bunk beds on either side, as well as a dresser and a desk for the occupants to divide.  A couple armoires for hanging uniforms filled the wall between each bunkbed and the door. 

   Upon entering, the two MechWarriors were greeted with a couple of familiar faces.  Blue, Al’s personal technician was first on his feet.  In spite of his odd, actual name, he looked normal, the name maybe matching his eyes.  His wavy dark brown hair didn’t have a blue tint.  He didn’t wear blue clothes or any other form of decoration.  The middle-aged man wasn’t much younger than Casey, who was in his early thirties.  From what Casey remembered Blue said he was named for the color of the sky the day he was born.  Odd sentimentality.

   “So, how did she handle?” Blue asked Al as soon as he was in the door.  “This was the first long distance test.  Any problems crop up?”

   The question came as no surprise to Casey.  Blue had been behind a lot of the design modifications to the Warhammer Al had purchased.  The fitting of the Tripple Strength Myomer was his biggest accomplishment on what amounted to a FrankenMech design, even if the parts were all from the same general chassis.

   “As far as I could tell, everything ran smoothly,” Al said.  “The TSM didn’t glitch anywhere along the way.  Everything seems to’ve held up.  But, the Demon’s out in the bay if you want to run some diagnostics.”

   Blue nodded appreciatively and moved toward the door, giving Al an excited slap on the shoulder.

   “Hey,” Al said, before Blue left.  “I need a change of clothes.”

   Blue pointed toward the armoire to the right.  “Put everything away, nice and neat.  Pretty easy since you don’t have much.”

   With that, the door shut and Blue was gone.

   Casey eyed Al’s armoire, then the other one, before putting eyes on his own personal technician.  The broad Asian man lay on the lower bunk on the left, looking asleep, though he didn’t breathe heavy enough for someone in slumber.  In fact, Chin was known to snore on occasion.  Of course, they all four did at times.  Something Casey had learned from their brief stay together at one of the Crossroads Inns. 

   Casey moved to check on his armoire.  “Chin,” he said, greeting his tech. 

   “Yes, I packed everything away, too.  It’s all there,” Chin said without moving.  While Casey dug out some civvies, the tech sat up suddenly.  “Case, we’ve been hanging out for a couple years, now.  We should be friends enough to be on first name terms.  Maybe even nicknames.”

   “Like Leno?” Al asked.

   Chin shot the nearly redressed Alius Cad’ver a strained look.  “Not that one.”

   Al smiled nodded.  “Don’t worry.  I know the sentiment.  People would try calling me all kinds of weird names that I didn’t like too.”

   “Like Allie,” Chin sniped.

   Amused, Casey asked, “Tell us again, Al, how you came up with ‘Leno’?”

   “Well,” Al said, looking eager to explain.  “ ‘Leonard’ is the ‘leo’ version last I saw him spell it, so there’s an ‘o’ in the name.  And, Jay Leno was a famous comedian from way, way back in the day on Earth -”

   “Terra,” both Casey and Chin corrected him in near unison.

   “Right,” Al acknowledged, barely losing stride.  “Anyway, Leno was largely known for having a large chin.”  He finished adjusting his shirt and open flack vest, looking back and forth between Casey and Chin.  “Leno.  Chin.  Leonard Chin?”

   Leonard Chin gave a disgusted sigh, shaking his head.  “Just call me ‘Lenny’.”

   Casey finished adjusting his own clothes.  “Okay, Len.  I’ll try to be a little more relaxed.  Have a look at the Griffin for me when you’re ready.  Al and I have to go finalize our contracts.”

   Chin suddenly looked concerned.  “Why? Something happened on the way?”

   “No,” Casey reassured him.  “But, you can’t be too careful.  We’re in a new place.  I don’t want to take any chances.”

* * *





   “No questions asked,” Al mused aloud.

   Casey stared at the thin volume of a contract on the brown painted tin desk in front of him.  Al's statement hung in the air like an echo, though the room was too small to carry an echo that long.  But it was fresh on Casey's ears enough to still echo in his head.  The room was just big enough for the desk, butted up against one wall, and the three chairs.  There was just room enough on the open end for anyone to walk around to the proper chair, while two guest chairs sat in front of it, along with a few book shelves on the wall.

   Damien sat in the only chair that looked even remotely comfortable. The two guest chairs, occupied by Casey and Al, were of the molded steel variety which could be found around the old mining building.  Casey smiled when he noted that the same kind of chairs could be found at Stum's Bar in Crossroads Oasis.   

   That was before Damien started laying out the details of their potential employment. Casey stared at the contract in front of him. Having long since read the short, simple clauses, he was focused on one phrase, which Al had read aloud.

   "No background checks?" Al continued.

   Make that two clauses.  They were important to Casey.  He was looking for employment, but there were issues with his past that would undoubtedly raise questions.  Issues he didn't want to have to deal with.  Like the possibility someone else might let slip who he really was and where he was now.  There were some people he didn't want to have to deal with.  The thought pained him, but it was necessary.  Casey wanted anonymity, and he found it out in the periphery, far, far away from home. He wanted to keep it that way, until he was ready to return. 

   It was right there in the contract.  In writing.

   It was as he had been promised.  Part of him found it hard to believe.

   And, neither could Al, who had openly commented.  It was more of a surprised mutter than an actual inquiry, the young man’s sandy-brown eyebrow shooting up while he was thumbing through the pages.

   Damien leaned back in his chair, folding his arms which had propped up his head on the desk a few seconds ago.

   Casey look over to his friend when Al dropped the page he was looking at.  He was still on the second of the three page document.  As slow as he was, Casey couldn't help imagining other people thinking Al couldn't read.  But, not only could Al read, he could write.  Fluently. Quickly.  With only a few grammatical or spelling errors.  There was no question he knew how to read.  It just seemed Al liked to absorb the material.

   "How would you know we were trust-worthy?" Al asked Damien, looking serious and intrigued.  "You have no idea who we really are, where we're from."

   Casey refrained from letting his shock show.  If there was any question that could ruin Casey's chance, that was it.  He could feel the heat rising in his neck and cheeks.  Wanting to reach over and throttle, or at least smack his friend, he instead gripped the cold metal arm of the chair.  Tightly.  Now that it was in the air, all he could do was wait and see how this unfolded.

   Damien smirked.  "Well, we already know you can pilot a Mech from that little sim battle at Stum's Bar. And since he," Damien pointed to Casey, "really taught you all that, he's a shoe-in."

   Al's gaze didn't waver, his eyebrow still raised.  "I mean, even if we sign this contract, what's to stop us from breaking it?"

   Damien turned serious.  "We have our ways of keeping things in the company.  Should you prove to be untrustworthy, you won't be working for us.  Should you take anything, we will find you and take it back."

   Al's face was suddenly blank, the quirked eyebrow back in uniform position.  He leaned over toward Casey, obviously wanting to ask something.  Knowing that no matter how quietly they talked, Damien would hear everything in this small room, Casey still obliged.  With a quiet sigh, he leaned over.

   "Are you sure about this?  You know how much I spent on the Demon.  And you know I can't do that again."

   "I know," Casey replied just as quietly, which wasn't near the whisper he wanted.  "I'm in the same boat you are, man.  Look.  Trust me.  If I had any suspicions, I wouldn't be here, and neither would you.  My sources said they were legit."

   "The way I understand it," Damien said catching both their attention, "you two want to remain anonymous.  Anyone out in this part of space that isn't local most likely has questions they don't want asked.  We know that.  We're trusting you with our lives by hiring you on without a question asked.   It only seems fair that you trust us enough to let us have our secrets."

   Al stared at Damien for a minute, his face unreadably serious.  "All right," he said after a second or two of silence.  "But under one condition.  I want right of refusal."

   The question on Damien's face said he didn't understand what Al meant, but it was enough to prompt a response.

   "I want the right to refuse an assignment if I don't agree with it."

   Casey finally saw what Al was getting at.

   "You don't want to go into a mission blindly," Damien said, echoing Casey's thoughts.  He sounded impressed.

   He looked at Casey, obviously applying the sentiment to him, too.  Considering that there were some things Casey would not do no matter what, he wasn't necessarily wrong.  They had no clue what kind of contracts this unit went for.  They had no clue what kind of battle code Damien, and by extension his other employees, adhered to.

   Casey didn't like the idea of being ordered to inflict senseless slaughter or senselessly throw himself away.  If he knew Al at all, the kid was the same.  He wasn't trying to find an excuse not to fight.

   Damien quietly harrumphed. "Idealists or cowards?  Considering I don't know you, I'm not sure if I can trust your judgment enough to add that clause to your contract.  It's a shame too," he said, almost musing to himself.

   He paused, looking idly down at the desk, appearing to Casey like he was deep in thought.  Then, the mercenary's black eyes brightened and he looked up.

   "I do have a compromise that I think might work.  If you're not up for this contract, why don't we put you in a trial period.  Work with us on our next mission, and if we like your performance, I can add that refusal clause you're asking for.  Or, maybe you'll like what you see and change your mind.

   "We'll give you room and board, supply your 'Mechs with any armor and ammo they require, and pay you half what you would earn if you signed this contract today.  If you sign the contract after it's all said and done, we'll pay you the other half. If you don't and decide to leave, whatever armor and ammo used to repair your machines should be recompense enough. How does that sound?"

   Casey couldn't quite answer when he tried.  He opened his mouth, shaking then nodding his head and puffing out some air before saying, "That's more than fair."

   And it was.  A chance to see what they were about was not something a person could normally expect from a mercenary command unless they were under the fair practice clauses of the MRBC.  Of course, the MRBC had strict application policies to protect such employers.  Such policies barred Casey because of his questionable past.  From the wild tales Al had regaled Casey and the Legion with, he would also be restricted.  So, they got a chance to see what these people were about, and to prove themselves in a baptism by fire.  He could certainly feel more comfortable about his decision then.

   But how long would he have to wait?

   "When's the next mission?" Casey asked

   "You're in luck.  We have one already lined up, and we're leaving in a week.  You'll have to decide today so I can make arrangements for two more machines."

   "What is it?" Al asked.

   Damien leaned back, settling into an explanation.  "We've been hired to hunt a small band of pirates that finally messed with the wrong planet.  We'll be joining a large number of other small mercenary units and will be doing a sweep of this sector of space, each one taking a different system.  Our ride, ammo, armor and other expenditures will all be paid for, although the pay itself is minimal.  The real payout, of course will be the salvage.  Whoever finds them first gets to keep what they kill, and our employer keeps the rest.  Of course, that contract applies to the company.

   "But," Damien clapped his hands together, "I'm getting ahead of myself.  If you want the details, you'll have to join us in the briefing.  And to do that, you have to either agree to the trial period - and I will provide a contract for that today.  Or!  You sign the contract."

   Al looked at Casey and shrugged. "It sounds like we're hunting criminals, so I have no real problem with it."

   Casey nodded.  “Actually, the salvage situation brings up another concern I have.  I heard you have a working agreement with the Legion, here.  Salvage is one of the reasons I’m out here.  I have a debt to repay.”

   Damien started to look concerned, but Casey waved a hand.  “I don’t have to make a return payment anytime soon.  In fact, I have all the time I need.  But, it is a matter of honor for me.  Anyway, I’m sure we can work out the details after the trial-period.

   "I will be taking the trial period," Casey finished firmly.

   "I will too," Al added after confused glance at Casey.

   "Good.”  Damien leaned forward.  “Give me a few hours to write up the new contracts for you to sign. We'll have a briefing after that."  He smiled for a brief instant.  "We'll finally be an air lance again, even if it's in the wrong proportions."  Looking back up, he asked, "Any other questions?"

   "Just one," Casey said.  "What happened?  You were once an air lance, but not anymore?"

   Damien's tanned face went grim.  He nodded idly while he thought, giving both Casey and Al considering looks.  Finally, he inhaled.

   "We had complications during our last mission.  Let's just say our last employer gave us faulty intel.  We barely escaped, losing an aerospace fighter and two pilots.  As you've seen coming in from the ’Mech bay, we were able to get away with the BattleMech.  The Fighter was destroyed in our escape, and the ’Mech pilot bled to death from the injuries sustained when his Crusader was crippled by a devastating head shot.  And, the DropShip that gave us a ride won't work with us anymore."

   He paused, giving Casey and Al one more serious look.  "That's what it means to take on this trade.  This is your chance to back out now."

   Al nodded.

   Casey didn't say or do anything.

   "Is that all?"

   They both nodded.

   "All right.  A word of advice,” Damien said, grimly conspiratorial, “I wouldn't ask anymore about what happened from anyone else.  Give it a while.  It's still a little fresh, and some probably wouldn't take too kindly to outsiders nosing around."

* * *



   As he and Al walked away from Damien's office, out into the big cavern that served as the mercenary's ’Mech bay, Al stepped up and caught Casey’s attention with a question. 

   “Why didn’t you say something?  You know how much I got for that dropship.  I could have helped you pay it off.  I’ve got plenty left over, I still could.”

   “It’s not that simple,” Casey said after a second to compose himself.  His heart fluttered at the offer, but the honor ingrained into him from childhood took over.  “It’s an uninteresting story that I’m not ready to discuss, yet.  I’ll tell you sometime in the future.  Suffice it to say, this is something I want to do myself.”

   Al didn’t look convinced right away, but after a second, he shrugged with a frown and spoke nothing more of it.

   “So, are you a big bad mercenary now?” a woman’s voice called out. 

   Casey couldn't help his surprise at finding Jennifer Rainier there to greet him when he turned to investigate.  Jenn was another dispossessed warrior, one of Nimaj’s personal guard.  He’d spent so much time hanging out with them at Stum’s Bar that he considered them all good friends.    

   Casey stopped.  Al continued on a couple paces before turning as well.

   "So, did you get hired on?" Jenn asked, her brown eyes sparkling intently.

   "We're on a trial period," Casey answered truthfully.  "But, if everything goes well, I think I'll be signing on."

   She smiled, the small crows-feet at the corners of her eyes and mouth becoming apparent.  It was the only sign of age on her he noticed.  Otherwise, she carried herself like a woman half her age.

   "I look forward to working with you."

   Casey frowned, puzzled.  "Wait.  You're part of the Legion, aren't you?  Not with-" He pointed toward Damien's office to finish his statement.

   "No, I'm not part of them,” she answered with mirth.  “We have a deal with Damien. When they finally get a spare head, I'll be piloting that."  She finished by waving her hand in the direction of the Crusader.  The headless mechanical humanoid stood in one of the stalls, looking freshly repaired and painted.  But the head was still missing. 

   Looking at it reminded Casey of how he got here.  He didn't have to be here. Far away from this place, from the battlefield, he could be living a life of comfort. He knew that his mistakes would be forgiven.  But, he had to be here.  For himself, if for no one else.  It was the only way he felt he could really atone.

   He looked at Jenn, but she was already walking over to Al, asking him the same thing.

   Suddenly, a woman came up Casey.  She was about as young as Al, in her mid-twenties.  She wore the desert garb of one of the nomads, but her face was red from sunburn.  Her dark brown hair was long and wavy.  She certainly was attractive, and carried herself with confidence.

   “Excuse me,” she said in a pleasant voice.  “Would you happen to know what will become of that BattleMech?”

   She sounded very much like Al.  The realization piqued Casey’s interest.  She had the same flat, clean accent that Al used.  No detectable dialect like with any of the locals, or any of the off-worlders.  Even Casey knew he had a slight accent in his English.  He decided to answer her question before offering one of his own.

   “I think they plan on repairing it.  But, if you’re wondering if there’ll be an opening for a pilot, I think it’s already taken.”  Casey shot a meaningful glance at Jenn.  To the young woman, he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be from Earth, would you?” 

   She looked momentarily confused.  “You mean Terra?”

   Casey nodded.

   She suddenly turned sheepish.  “No.  I am not from such a precious place.  I do wish to visit.  Someday.”

   A blonde came up and put a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.  They exchanged glances and both left without a word.

   Perplexed, Casey strolled over to his friends.  “Al.  Did you hear that?”

   “I did.”

   “She sounded like you,” Casey said.  “Think she’s from Terra?”

   “Oh, yeah.  The two new girls.  Rumor has it they might be clan warriors,” Jenn said conspiratorially.

   Casey’s heart froze.  “Clan?” he asked, deadpan.  Then logic kicked in.  “What would Clanners be doing in a place like this?”

   Jenn shrugged.  “Why are you here?  Or, why am I here?”

   Casey took the point with a nod. 

   “As newbies, they’re under constant surveillance, so you don’t need to worry yourself,” Jenn said. 

   Casey could detect a hint of mockery in her tone, and smiled.

   “Eventually, they’ll come clean,” Al added.  “Just a matter of time and trust.”

   The thought of a couple of Clanners in the Legion’s ranks didn’t sit well with Casey.  He partly hoped the rumor was false.  But, then, if they were Terrans, why were they here?  Any extended stay at the Legion’s compound would prove to be interesting.

[Daemion]

That ends chapter 2. 

Attached here is the RTF file.

Feel free to let me know how my driving is working out. 

Otherwise, more to come.

[Daemion]

Chapter 3


Dragon’s Rose DropShip
Barque of Ages JumpShip
Gatchina Nadir Jump Point
25 December 3055



   The Barque of Ages, a play on the name for Ra’s Boat of a Million Years out of mythology, had just completed its jump.  Everyone on the Dragon’s Rose spent a minute or more reorienting themselves when the kitchen got a call.  John ‘Cookie’ Hankins, a big man with a child’s voice looked up from the hand-held phone at Al.

   “Captain wants to see you,” Cookie said.

   Alius Cad’ver nodded his acknowledgement and shoved off toward the door.

   Out in the hall, Al caught hold of the doorframe to redirect his motion down the long passage which ran the length of the forward crew compartments on this deck.  He was aiming toward the between-deck ladder in the zero-gee shaft near the nose of the craft.  Instead, he ran practically head-first into the lone passenger on this boat.  It would have been a literal impact had Al not reflexively shoved off toward the opposite bulkhead that composed part of the ship’s hull. Instead, he missed by millimeters.

   Al twisted in mid-air and shot the passenger a grin and a minor salute before catching a rail on the hull and propelling himself down the passage. 

   The other man, startled as he was, shot Al a glower.  The passenger already looked like he didn’t like much.  It was a cultivated look.  The man could pass as any shaven-headed muscly mook out of a B-movie.  The gear-earring added to the touch, along with the leather ensemble over a wife-beater T.     

   But, ‘Kip’ Cyprus Jones was the first one to find Al aboard ship.  He had a generally disagreeable nature along with a strong sense of paranoia.  He’d made it obvious from the beginning he didn’t trust or like Al.  So, Al trusted the glower was quite genuine.

   He wasn’t surprised when Kip turned to follow after a few healthy seconds of lead time.



   Captain Parjebron Lee’s office was an extension of his quarters.  The bed was tucked away in the wall, now serving as a couch for guests.  The desk was surprisingly uncluttered, the captain trusting heavily in the electronic micro-computer that looked like a piece of colored glass rimmed with plastic and glowing with letters and images which were fuzzy from Al’s vantage point from the door.  Beyond those decorations, the faux-wood veneer helped hide the few overhead cupboard doors and cozy up the otherwise stark lighting.

   Captain Lee looked up at Al, rubbing the beard that covered his broad jaw.  The captain was a big man, but not in the same way Cookie was big.  He was simply thicker and stockier than the generally accepted human ideal.  Al saw an almost identical resemblance to his long-lost father, complete with the shrinking hairline along the temples, and thin spot in the back.

   He even sounded the same, with a bold baritone.  With a gesture, Lee said, “Come in.  Sit down.”  Pausing, Lee looked out into the hall.  “Was there someone out there with you?”

   “Just my shadow,” Al replied with a smirk as he floated to a seated position.

   Lee rolled his eyes.  “All right, Mister Jones.  Get your butt in here.  This concerns you, too, anyway.”

   Jones darkened the doorway.  He looked at Al, sitting on the couch.  “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stand,” he said, the growl equal parts attitude and the natural gravel of his voice.

    Lee shrugged. “Suit yourself.”  He turned to Al, taking on a more casual tone.  “Since we found you onboard a few months ago, you’ve been under a probationary trial period of sorts.  Well, that time is up.  You’ve proven yourself while under supervision, and the crew likes you.  With a few exceptions.” Lee eyeballed Jones.

   Lee reached for the datapad on his desk and pushed it in Al’s direction. He stared at Al intently.  “This is a contract.  Read over carefully.  If you accept the terms and sign it, you’ll no longer be an honorary member of the crew, you’ll be a full-fledged member.”

   Al picked up the data-pad.  While it was fancy, it didn’t reorient its contents with the new facing, forcing Al to turn it around.  He read through the contents, trying to ignore the brief exchange between Kip and the Captain.

   In spite of his best efforts, he took note of the exchange, anyway.

   As soon as Al had picked up the device, Kip had rolled his head in exaggerated frustration, voicing his thoughts at the same time with, “Awe, criminy!  You can’t be serious.”

   “I am,” Lee said, voice low threatening.  “If he signs, he will be a part of the crew.  Once he is, you will have to show him the same respect as anyone else on my staff.”

   “But, you don’t know who he really is -,” Kip started to say.

   Captain Lee interrupted with a bark that quickly resumed a conversational tone, if barely. “I’ve heard your arguments plenty of times, Mr. Jones.  But, Eli has acquitted himself admirably.  If he were a saboteur, he would have made his move long before now.  If he were a spy, I imagine someone would have noticed any messages leaving the ship in one form or another.  You, yourself, have added an extra eye to his supervision in all this time.  But, have you come to me with any sign of espionage or duplicity?”

   Lee let the question hang in the air. 

   Kip looked away, neck muscles working as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. 

   “I thought so,” Lee stated with finality.

   Both men eventually returned to watching Al read.  While listening to the exchange, he had to rescan a couple paragraphs.  Thankfully, the document was only a page or two long, and not so littered with legalese, so he didn’t take long to get through it.  Over the course of the trip through the Inner Sphere, Al had gotten used to working datapad micro-computers like these.  In the last few stops, he’d helped check manifests, so he didn’t have to ask how to sign.  The stylus was cradled in a little slot on the left side.  Once in his dominant right hand, the signature was made, and Al was handing the datapad back to the Captain.

   Al always found signatures made on electronic screens strangely difficult to maintain uniformity. Not the same as writing on a sheet of paper. But, it would have to do.

   Lee looked at the signature and the printed name Al had put down.  He quirked a brow at the sight before studying Al a moment.  “Ay-lye-us,” he said aloud.  “Not Elias.  ‘Al’.  Not ‘Eli’.”

   Al nodded, adding, “That’s right.”

   Remaining studious, Lee eventually put the pad down and resumed a congenial attitude.  Reaching over the desk, he offered Al his hand.  Al took the hand firmly, as he’d learned a long time ago to do, and shook once.

   Lee smiled.  “Welcome aboard the Dragon’s Rose, Crewman Cad’ver.  I will inform everyone else on board.  I believe you have duties to return to.”

   Al smirked and nodded.

   With a gesture, Captain Lee indicated Al should be on his way.  In the mere seconds it took Al to shove off and float out, Cyprus had already disappeared into the hall.  But, in the passage, Cyprus was waiting.  Al slid by, on his way to the ladder.  Kip quickly caught up, and put a blocking arm in front of Al.  Using his reflexes, Al quickly forced a halt in his momentum. 

   “I don’t care what the captain thinks of you,” Kip growled.  “But, I don’t trust you.  If I ever find you near the cargo holds, I will kill you.”

[Daemion]

Trial Run

Aboard the Rose Quartz
System Search Grid 7
Zenith Jump Point
Uncharted Periphery
28 February 3059


   Casey found himself looking up at one of many ore bins in the Quartz’s long cargo hold.  A Buccaneer Class DropShip, the main fuselage was around 30 meters in height and width.  It was more than enough space to fit large bins designed to carry all kinds of ore.  But, in a handful of them were hidden the BattleMechs belonging to Damien, Javier, Miko, Al and Casey.  The one in front of Casey was the one with his Griffin.

   For a brief moment, his mind wandered to the story Al had told of his time on another Buccaneer.  The vision of the wreck he’d found when secretly following Al out into the desert had him wondering just what it was Kip Jones had stored in its cargo holds that he didn’t want anyone to find.  Casey expected it was a BattleMech or two.  Maybe more.  While the volume of the vessel didn’t allow room for too many mechs, it could accommodate a company, easily, with lift capacity left for all kinds of supplies.

   Taking a moment to readjust the full deck-hand jumpsuit, Casey couldn’t help enjoying the symmetry.  Al had been made a member of the Dragon’s Rose crew.  As part of payment for the Quartz’s service, the mercenaries and their techs were also acting as honorary crew for the duration of the pirate hunt mission.  If anyone decided to come aboard and do an inspection, they wouldn’t be able to tell merc or crewman apart until the interrogations started.

   The whole set-up was aweful cloak-and-dagger, but Casey, being Lyran, could appreciate the cost savings. 

   His comm beeped.  Casey activated it, acknowledging he was receiving. 

   Javier’s voice sounded from the tiny speaker.  “Now that we’re in transit, the Liaison wants to run over the plan one more time.  Briefing in twenty.”

   “Putnam, acknowledged,” Casey said.  “Briefing in twenty.”

   With that, Casey reached for the ladder leading to the top of the ore bin.  It was time to finish checking his ’Mech.



   The briefing was held in the Rose Quartz’s mess, since it didn’t have a dedicated meeting room.  As a civilian transport, it didn’t have a military style briefing room, either.  So, everything was done around a table in the galley.  Like Casey, the rest of Damien’s merc band were in Rose Quartz crew togs.  The only person to stand out was the Magistracy Liaison, Arturo McMurty. 

   The dark blue tunic and trousers tightly clinging to his average frame was nothing like the orange coveralls of the dropship crew.  McMurty seemed aware of the clothes worn by the five MechWarriors, the lone aerospace pilot and their technical staff.  He nodded his head in approval while looking over the crowd assembled in the room.  Running his hand over his dark brown hair, cut to Canopian military standards, he paused to rub on his mustache, the one personal affectation he allowed himself. 

   From his position near a wall, Casey caught McMurty’s comment to Damien.  The man was clearly audible over the general din of side conversations before the briefing proper. 

   “I like the blending in with the crew.  But, I bet somebody would notice if too many of you were just sitting around, doing nothing.”

   “Oh, they’re busy,” the Quartz’s Captain said.  A tall man with a constant barely shaved scruff around his neck, his was the one face in the room Casey didn’t recognize.  “We have an arrangement.  A deal of sorts.  They get a discount, but have to pull their weight in the trip.”

   McMurty quirked a brow, resuming his appreciative nod.

   Al leaned over to Casey from the left.  Softly, he said, “Y’know, even with the lighter piping, if he had some sun-glasses, our Liaison could pass for an 80’s beat cop.  The mustache just completes the ensemble.”

   Casey was baffled by the comment, and shot Al a questioning look.

   Al’s smile thinned into a smirk when he saw Casey’s confusion.  “Out of an old 1980’s film.  United States Police Officers looked a lot like him.  Just picture him with some aviator’s sun-glasses and swinging a billy-club, and maybe chewing some gum, and that’s exactly what you’d get.”

   Casey partly shrugged.  He could envision the image Al was trying to convey, but the historical reference was too far outside his experience.

   There was a snigger out of Chin on Casey’s right.  “Man, where do you come up with this stuff?”  When Casey looked over at him blankly, Chin held up his datapad.  On it was the very image Al had just described, complete with blue uniform.  “Found this in the jumper’s archives.”

   “You’re right,” Casey admitted.  He flashed the two a weak smile.  The joke, while understood, just wasn’t that funny to him.

   Chin waved at Casey dismissively.  “Don’t mind him. -” 

   “All right!” Damien said, interrupting loud enough for everyone to hear and fall silent.  “Meeting time.”

   McMurty raised his voice to be heard once all eyes were on him.  “All right.  I know we discussed this before, but I want to refresh your memories.  Because of the low-tech nature of our meeting, I’m having some pictures passed around so you will know whether you’ve found our quarry or not.  If you happen to run across a different pirate group, you will be rewarded for their destruction and/or capture.  But, we’re after these folks, specifically.

   “Snarl and Swoop’s last raid gave them enough parts to repair their lance to functionality.  The other two ’Mechs are a vintage 8Q Awesome and a stock 3R Crud.  Snarl is known to pilot a custom Hunchback with an upgraded Ultra Cannon.  Swoop’s Phoenix Hawk is also customized, but people observers haven’t been able to identify how.”

   He paused long enough to look at Damien.  “I’ve reviewed your plan, and I’ll give you marks for originality.  But, there’s room for a lot to go wrong.  We have two more stops on the Discovery’s route after you disembark.  It’ll be at least three weeks before we check back in.”

   The Quartz’s Captain was the first to speak.  “We have all the equipment we need to dig ourselves out if we do touch down rough.”

   “Snarl’s got a pair of medium fighters,” McMurty said.  “What if they decide to actually shoot at you?”

   “DeForrest’s Iron Sides will be dropped in high orbit before our first pass,” Damien said.  “That should be enough to handle a pair of Corsairs, along with the Quartz’s armament.” 

   McMurty looked only partly convinced.

   “Look,” Damien added, “Nobody’s here that doesn’t want to be.  We made sure of that before lift-off.  We know what we might be getting into.  Besides, if we aren’t here to meet you, or you don’t get our signal, you’ll have a place to bring the other parties to search.”

   McMurty nodded reluctantly.

[Daemion]

Chapter 3, continued -

Grid System 7
Planet 5
High Orbital Descent
5 March 3059


   It had been a little over a weak, and Casey had almost forgotten about the potential risks in Damien’s plan.  But, now, strapped into his cockpit, feeling the effects of the atmosphere vibrating through his surroundings, he had plenty of time to reflect and worry.  The ore covering the broad bubble canopy blocked any view to the outside world, though that would have been the ribbed metal hull of the ore bin holding and hiding his Griffin from the rest of the ship.  With only the glowing lights from his console and HUD, the vibrations felt more pronounced. 

   The plan was creative.  The mercs were part of a larger party doing a search through select systems trying to hunt down a particular group of pirates.  The logic was sound.  Instead of burning in-system with a military dropper, sending the pirates either into hiding or scrambling for their dropper and jumper, come in with something that would catch their interest.  A bulk freighter broadcasting its arrival time at some unidentified facility on an uninhabited world would certainly catch attention.  Pirates being pirates, they’d most likely want to come investigate. 

   But, there was a lot riding on that curiosity.  Snarl or Swoop might exercise the better part of caution and never show up, or scramble out-system anyways.  That would invalidate all the searches under way.  But, the real concern was how aggressive the pirates might be in their curiosity.  Would they be patient enough to wait for the ship to land and then come searching?  Or would they send up fighters to redirect the transport to land at their hide-out or somewhere nearby.  The worst-case would be one of the fighter jocks being a little too paranoid and shooting the Quartz down to sort out the contents later with no questions asked.

   “McMurty is a master of understatement,” Casey muttered aloud.

   “Don’t worry, Casey,” Al chimed in over the comms.  “We’re gonna be fine.”

   Hearing his comrade’s confidence helped sooth Casey a little bit.  Al’s insane luck might be the very thing that carries the group through this.  The young man had survived another DropShip crash.  Casey also reminded himself that there was a ten percent chance that the pirates would be in the system at all.  Nine planets in the grid, and the off-chance they weren’t even in that grid was the math Casey was using. 

   “Thanks, pal,” Casey replied.

   They were wired into the Quartz’s internal comms, by the Captain’s recommendations.  In fact, it was a part of the plan to coordinate a staged explosion to drop one of the ’Mech bins should fighters come calling.  If nothing else, Casey would hear if anything went wrong the moment it happened.  Right now, the only thing being broadcast was the signal to the ‘secret facility’ indicating the Quartz’s current status in flight, which happened to be re-entry.

   He stared out through the visor on his neural helmet.  In front of him, Casey’s reflection hovered on canopy glass made black by the darkness outside.  Chocolate-skinned arms, the gray, bulky helmet and darker gray tubes of the coolant vest were all pigmented by the glow of active consoles and control panels.  The reflection started to wobble at the same time he did.  Outside the ’Mech, beyond its specially made steel coffin, the Rose Quartz was just entering the atmosphere of some unseen planet. He couldn't see his teeth through the helmet on the makeshift mirror, but if he could, his grin would have glowed bright red. It was nearly six years after that damned Clan invasion, and Casey Putnam was back in action.

   Minutes passed before the shaking subsided.  This was it. His heart raced, chest burning with anticipation. If anything was going to go wrong, it would be in the next few moments.  He breathed deep breaths to calm his anxiety.  While he did that, he paid an ear to the comms, listening in on the voices as the bridge crew worked.

   “This is Rose Quartz calling Lead Mine Ridge Space Port, do you copy, over,” the captain said.

   The captain’s metallic voice kept on repeating the same phrase, over and over, roughly every half minute.  The monotonous droning was only broken up now and then by brief reports from other parts of the ship.

   “Rose Quartz!”  A new voice, a woman’s, very angry, sounded over the general frequency.  “I don’t know where you think you are, but there is no Lead Mine Ridge space port here.”

   “Who is this?” the captain demanded, but the woman on the other side just kept going.

   “You are impeding on His Majesty Ross’s airspace.”  A pause.  “You will undoubtedly notice two aerospace fighters approaching you.  I’m transmitting coordinates.  You will change your current heading to these coordinates.  His Majesty’s fighters will escort you.”

   “His majesty Ross, huh?” Casey muttered.  “Is that what Snarl likes to call himself at home?”    

   Whoever this girl on the wire was, she was doing an impressive job sounding official.  The plan was going almost on script.  The pirates were curious and trying to lure in this nice, shiny gem.

   “I see them,” a crewman said in the background.  “Two of them five kilometers off our seven and eight o’clock, respectively.”

   “Look.  I don’t know anything about ‘His Majesty Ross’,” the captain said, sounding irate.  “I’ve been assured by my navigator that we are in the Lead Mine system, a private holding of the…”

   “Listen, Rose Quartz,” the ground controller said, attempting again to assert her will.  “If you don’t change your heading, -Now!- you will be fired upon.  Do you hear me?!”

   “Yeah, I hear you.  And I warn you, whoever you are, that we will fire back!”

   “Rodger Bridge! Signal received," another crewman said, sounding clear in Casey's ear. "Blowing starboard hatch. Releasing smoke.”

   That was the bay quartermaster.  Not a second after he had made his announcement, the radio erupted in chaos.  Casey had a hard time keeping track of it all, but he tried.

   “Oh my God,” the captain shouted. “They actually fired on us!”

   “What?!  What do you mean?” Ground Control demanded, her voice distant.  “Find out who fired on them - !”

   “Launching debris,” the bay master said calmly.

   “ …Our pilots claim none of them fired on you,” Ground Control said.

   The ship shuddered, no longer burdened by the weight from a good number of real bins filled with actual ore.  Casey couldn’t help thinking about how much that ore might cost.  He hoped it wouldn’t affect payroll.

   “Cutting starboard engine,” said the chief engineer.

   “Like hell they didn’t!  That’s it,” the captain said.  “F.C.! Tag ’em!”

   “…Look at the readout,” Ground Control’s voice was muffled.  “Somebody had to.”

   It would’ve been interesting to hear the exchange between the pilots and Ground Control.  Imagining the cacophony of confusion that went on made Casey cough out a quiet chuckle.

   “Got one,” the first background voice, the gunner, said.

   “God damnit!  Pull them back, now!”  Ground Control’s muffled voice said before it cut out entirely.

   “Mayday, mayday, mayday,” the captain said in a dead calm.  “This is the Rose Quartz. We are under attack. We have sustained damage and are losing altitude, heading east…”

   Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes.  The captain kept on repeating his mayday message over and over, creating a sort of cadence.  In keeping to that cadence came the call to brace for impact.  Casey hunched up and grabbed onto the harness, just in time to feel the ship lurch heavily.  The command couch pressed harshly and sharply into his back.  The quick surge of pain brought back a lot of memories.  Some were pleasant, like his early days of ‘Mech training.  Others were not so pleasant, like the day he lost the family ‘Mech.

   The pain was gone as quickly as it had flared, and the memories with it, but the ship still shook.  On his back, in his cockpit, Casey was lightly rocked around for another handful of seconds.  The shaking and shuddering quickly subsided as the Rose Quartz came to a dead rest.  Things remained still and eerily silent.  It was so quiet Casey began to worry that something had gone wrong with the landing.  He looked at the internal clock, watching the time indicator change, second by second, waiting for any sign of life outside.

   And, there he sat, in his cockpit.  The lights glowed off the cockpit canopy, still black from the ore bin outside.  Casey’s smile was gone, though, while he waited for an all clear signal.  Seconds changed on the internal clock, then the minute.  The minute changed a couple more times, and his gut started to ache with worry.  Something must have gone wrong.  It wouldn’t take the enemy fighters that long to be over the horizon and gone.  He wanted to activate the comm set and call out.  Make sure everyone was all right.  Yet, he waited.

   ‘Just a little longer,’ he though to himself.  ‘Just a little longer!  Give them a chance. Maybe they’re just being over-cautious.’

   But, what if they weren’t? What if they were all hurt, or even worse, dead?  Casey wrestled with these flitting, niggling thoughts.  His finger twitched, aching to reach down and hit the comm switch.  Another minute passed, and he was about to give in to the urge.  His finger was millimeters away, inching closer.

   Then, the receivers in his helmet came to life.

   “Display Case to all Geodes,” the voice of the Quartz’s captain came quietly, tickling Casey’s ears.  “The hammer has passed from sight.  It is safe to disembark.”

   “Geode Two confirms,” Javier said.  “All Geodes sound in.”

   Rumiko sounded in.  Casey sounded in.  Al sounded in.  Casey was relieved, mostly, but noticed Damien’s absence.  It was all part of the plan, he knew.  However, with their fearless leader under radio silence, there was no way to know if his own landing had gone smoothly.

   One way or the other, they would have to do without him.

   “All right, geodes,” Javier said, “time to roll out.”

* * *

[Daemion]

Chapter 3, Continued -

   “They're coming,” Miko's voice crackled loudly over the mic.

   Casey's head shot up, as much as his neural helmet would allow.  Surprised, he was quickly dragged away from the ugly surrounding offered by a planet with thin ozone.  The brown, thick-skinned grasses that crumpled under his Griffin's wide, square feet were quickly forgotten.  His gaze moved to the north, away from the Quartz, burried in a long trail of downed and broken trees.  On the horizon, he saw more of the local trees, gnarled and twisted, with rigid, stiff leaves and wicked looking thorns.  Above them, a plume of dust blending quickly into an almost white gray sky.

   Having his doubts about the master plan from the start, Casey was still expecting the pirates to have some modicum of common sense.  When he saw the dust to the north, he was certain that it was their DropShip powering up for a hasty blast-off.  Now, with Miko's warning, there seemed to be some hope for the plan, after all.

   But, if they were coming, Snarl and his gang had to at least suspect a trap.

   "Just as expected," she continued in her light soprano, "They're coming in force.  According to seismic data, I'm reading one assault, one certain medium class, and either two heavies or one heavy and a medium."

   "Sounds like the intel was good,” Javier said.  “But, expect some surprises.  Okay.  Let's go.  We don't want them getting too close to the Quartz.  Miko, we’ll meet you."

   "Understood."

   Al and Casey echoed her, but Javier was already moving.  His flame stenciled red, yellow and orange Firestarter turned its painted gaze on the two new-hires, the black cockpit glass between the two fiery eyes giving the impression of a furled elemental brow.  Then it kicked off at a track star's run, heading up a small swell and disappearing between some small copses.

   Al, too had throttled his navy blue and grey Warhammer into a run.  While the heavy ’Mech was really pumping its legs, it wasn't near enough to keep pace with the Firestarter.  As soon as Casey throttled his Griffin forward, the Warhammer was being left behind.  Cutting back a little, Casey didn't let Al slip too far back.

   While they travelled away from the Quartz, over hills and through small woods, Casey kept trying to puzzle out the pirates's approach.  But a quick glance at the countryside was answer enough.  This place had nothing.  These plants were undoubtedly far from edible.  The atmosphere may be breathable, barely, but anyone standing outside long enough would be severely burned.  The only thing going for it was the large ocean of water not too far to the north, and that probably had to be purified.  In fact, one of many thefts off a long list of crimes was of water treatment equipment.

   This place had nothing.  No industry.  No large population centers.  No commerce.  Snarl's encampment was given away from orbit only by the presence of their dropship.  It was the only sign of human habitation.

   So, when someone accidentally dropped out of the sky in a transport undoubtedly full of expensive materials that could be resold, it must have seemed like mana from heaven.  Casey didn't know whether to be pleased at Damien's insight into the mind of their prey, or to be sickened by the state of humanity that it was necessary to hunt people down who were doing what they could just to survive.  The fact that Snarl and his gang were forced into this position was a common theme in this universe.  For an instant, Casey could feel for them. 

   Then he remembered some of the other crimes listed against the band.  Sometimes desperation wasn't enough to justify every evil a person could commit.  These people were criminals, and needed to answer for their crimes.  Thankfully it paid more to bring them in alive.

   They were getting closer.  Each swaying step brought the mercs and the pirates ever closer.  And each step tightened Casey's gut in anxiety.  He couldn't help it.  He knew what he was getting into.  It didn't help knowing that they were outmassed significantly.  It didn't help knowing that Damien's ’Mech would have turned the tide.  The fact that each mercenary machine had some form of advanced tech didn't really add much comfort.

   But, it wasn't just survival Casey was concerned about.  Once the pirates learned of the trap, they would undoubtedly turn and run.  Being as heavy as they were, the pirates could definitely withstand a lot of punishment.  If they ran, it was almost certain more than one would get away.  Those would probably be the two that mattered most, Snarl and Swoop.

   Up ahead, clear on both the three hundred and sixty degree monitor, as well as through the giant bubble canopy that was the Griffin's head, Javier's flame colored Firestarter was at a standstill just behind a hill.  In a few more seconds, Al's Warhammer and Casey's Griffin would also be close.

   Miko’s tan Jenner came around the hill from her forward scouting position, skidding to a halt next to Javi’s ’Mech.

   "They’re just on the other side of the far hill," Miko said

   It was redundant, because Casey's sensors were already picking up four machines almost half a kilometer away and closing.

   "Did they-?" Javier started to ask.

   "No.  They haven't seen me.  But they undoubtedly know we're here."

   "Did you-?"

   "It is the group we’re looking for.  Their machines are a direct match."

   "Alright!” Javier sounded energized.  “Al. Casey. You work on the Assault.  Once the big guns are out of the way, we can handle Snarl and Swoop.  Keep your distance from Snarl.  You don’t want to get hit by that assault cannon.  And, be careful of Swoop.  She lives up to her name.  Miko, you're with me."

   Together the two light ’Mechs headed off to the right.  Javier's Firestarter flew up into the air on twin jets of steam from the cylindrical tubes on its back, dropping out of the air to disappear into a small forest.  The Jenner wheeled around quickly and started off around the woods, its extraordinarily long legs eating up the ground quickly.

   Al and Casey had both just pulled to a halt.  It was simple for Casey to press his throttle forward and steer his Griffin up the small rise in front of him.  Al joined him on the left.

   The battle was about to start, and already Casey was beginning to focus.  Forgotten, the anxiety in his gut disappeared. 

   On the sensor read, two of the enemy were pressing forward while two more stayed behind the next hill over.  His HUD painted the one in front of him while it climbed the opposite slope.  Projections indicated it would be in view by the time he was on top of his own little hill.

    Without hesitation, he quickly toggled a firing solution for both the ER PPC held in the Griffin's right hand, and the LRM tube mounted to the right of his cockpit.

   "All right, Al.  Don't get too far away from me.  If Swoop's as dangerous as they say, we'll need to cover eachother's backs."

   "You're worried about me out-pacing you?" Al quipped.

   Casey couldn't help twisting to look sidelong out of his neurohelmet.  He glimpsed the Warhammer jogging to keep pace while his Griffin strolled up the hill beside it.  Point taken.

   "In the heat of battle? Easily," Casey quipped back.

   Flanked by ugly trees, Casey’s target, an Awesome appeared on the next hill over just as he and Al topped their rise.  As an assault BattleMech, it was the biggest threat on the field.  It had three of the hardest hitting beam weapons in the Inner Sphere or the surrounding periphery.  And, it had the armor to allow for an extended fire fight at range. 

   It was backed up by a Crusader which appeared among the trees at the base of the Awesome's hill, to Casey's right.  But, those were the only pirates in range or line of sight.  Snarl’s and Swoop’s ’Mechs hung back on the other side, well out of view and range.   

   He didn't like it.  Sending out only two while the others hung back?  What were they planning?

   “We’ll take care of the Crud,” Javier said.  “You two tackle that Awesome.”

   “Got it,” Casey said, echoed by Al’s, “Roger.”

   All three of the Awesome’s PPC barrels glowed, ready to fire, the moment its blocky upper body came into view.  In a pattern that would set the cycle for the rest of the battle, six Particle Projection Cannons flashed blue beams, perforating the sky between the Griffin, the Warhammer, and the Awesome.  Then Casey’s ’Mech rocked when the missile launcher fired its payload of twenty missiles, ten and ten in quick succession. 

   Their smoke clouded his view for an instant, but not before seeing a key detail that made everything all so clear.  The monitor in front of him tried to compensate for the sudden visual obstruction, providing a digital rendering of an amalgam of sensory data.  Missile and particle beams got colored vector lines over a cartoonish rendering of the Awesome’s exposed upper body and the surrounding terrain.  The Awesome’s hidden legs and lower half got a simple wire-frame outline. 

   But, Casey didn't need it to see clearly what his own eyes spotted, glaring in the bright white sun. 

   "Al.  Play the range game," he said.

   While kicking in his pedals, activating the Griffin's jets, the cockpit's internal fans activated, and coolant ran through the vest on which the giant, bulky neural helmet rested.  Casey felt the cool against his torso, front and back, as well as along his scalp and neck where the lines laced through the helmet.

   Pausing in his explanation, he glanced at the compressed panaramic monitor to see if Javier and Miko needed assistance with the sixty-five ton Crusader. His eyes quickly picked out a small detail that reassured him he would not be needed.  It also confirmed what they had been told in the briefings.

   While in flight, soaring over his friend as the heavy Warhammer jogged down slope, Casey toggled another PPC shot at the Awesome.  The enemy was holding its place just the other side of the bald crown up above, making it an easy enough target.

   All the while, he said, "Intel is sound.  That Awesome's a dated 8Q.  Look closely at the right arm's housing.  We can outrange it."

   Casey guided his ’Mech toward a copse of trees.  The Griffin came smashing down through branches and leaves.  Just as its feet touched the brush-covered ground, the right arm reached up, pointing the gun in its hand at the Awesome. 

   It fired.  Almost simultaneously, the beam was joined by two more from the heavy cannons which made up the Warhammer's lower arms.  The beams swayed with the ’Mech’s motion while it shouldered its way through the trees to Casey's right.

   Even though it hadn't moved from its position, the Awesome ducked, taking the shots. Contrary to popular opinion, BattleMechs were mobile machines and capable of almost every motion that any out-of-shape person strapped in full plate armor could make. The quick move was unexpected, and the targeting systems in the Merc machines tried to compensate, to keep the beams focused on one spot of the enemy as long as possible. 

   But the dodge worked.  All three beams played errantly over its upper body, thrown off by the sudden move.  Without the smoke in the way, Casey could actually see one of the beams slice a little too close to the hill, evaporating grass and dirt in equal measure.  A sure sign that the paint blackened on the Awesome's front by each shot would probably be nothing more serious. 

   Only one shot, Casey's, remained focused enough that the armor actually glowed and cracked and splintered just as the beam winked out.  It was really difficult to make out with the naked eye at this distance, but the HUD immediately painted the damage on the target for him. If the sensors said so, then it was true.

   The enemy bobbed, came up, and immediately returned fire with its three particle beams.  They perforated the air to Casey's right, just a little before Al's twin beams winked out. Branches and leaves puffed into steaming vapor, splinters and smoldering ash at the merest touch as they tried for the only significant threat the Mercs had.

   "Hold here! Hold here," Casey said.

   Following his own advice, he triggered both his Long-Range Missiles and the particle cannon, and he had a quick few seconds to reflect while watching his enemy from the trees.    While the fans in his cockpit came on and the coolant in the vest started to flow, Casey kept a close eye on his target.

   The Awesome made no motion to come after them, and Casey became even more certain he understood the enemy's plan.  In fact, seeing the other two markers behind the hill on the overhead map confirmed it.

   "We keep here," he said.  "I think they're waiting for us to close, banking on our trying to take advantage of the poor focusing range on those old Kreuses."

   But, Casey and Al didn't have to play that game.  The newer extended range model cannons would start to have a telling effect, able to bring their beams to bear at better ranges in sufficient force that the enemy's armor couldn't expect to shrug it off as easily.

   "That hill's still proving a problem, though," Al said.

   "It won't matter," Casey replied.

   However, he didn't have time to continue the argument. A missile lock warning beeped in his right ear, catching his attention.  Quickly, he pulled his gun arm back, almost like going into a guard stance in karate, with the gun still pointed at the Awesome, but from the hip. His view blocked by the huge tube launcher, the only sight he had of the incoming missiles was on the compressed panoramic monitor in front of him.  They streaked in faster than a bat of an eye, and the Griffin rocked.  The motion was partly defensive on his ’Mech’s part.  The rest of it was from the fifteen explosions which tore new holes in the tree canopy.  They sounded like distant fireworks through the sound-proofed armor.

   A quick glance at the diagnostics monitor said that was about the only effect most of them had.  Some had scored some damage.  But most had come up a little short.

   Distracted for a brief instant, he did a double-take when he went back to concentrate on the Awesome.  His gaze drifted back to the monitor and the Crusader.

   Javier had gotten the jump on the Crusader, flying his Firestarter over and behind it, landing deeper in the miniature forest.  The IR signature for the enemy ’Mech, indicated in a small color band just beneath it on Casey's HUD, showed that the Crud was doing too much all at once.  Trying to fight the darting and running light 'Mechs, the errant LRMs it had just flung at Casey to aid its heavier friend had overtaxed its cooling systems. 

   Then the Firestarter bathed the Crud in hell-fire.   

   From deep inside the shade offered by the trees, two bright, fiery explosions engulfed the Crusader while it was still wading forward.  Those fireballs were quickly followed by two twin streams of superheated fusion plasma from the handless wrists of the Firestarter's arms.

   It's IR signature went from a steady brightening orange to a bright whitish yellow.   

    The Crusader was completely soaked, burning.  The trees it had been pushing through were also alight, and the flames were spreading.  Fire dripped from the ’Mech and the trees to the ground, lighting the coarse grasses underfoot, casting dark shade into hues of bright yellow and orange.  The Crusader, still marching forward, started to slow to a walk, then froze to a stop.  An already bright IR signature dropped significantly.  Either the pilot wasn't fast enough to hit the override, or he had been completely caught off guard.  The end result was the same. His ’Mech’s engine had powered down.

   “Hahahaaaah! Otra victima por el fuego consumida,” Javier shouted triumphantly.

   “Holy crap! Did we do that?” Al blurted, excited.

   Casey didn’t catch the context until his LRMs fired, the smoke blocking his view of the inferno.  Quickly looking back up the hill, he was just in time to catch the Awesome’s head sinking from view behind the hill.  Had it fallen down? Did it take that significant a hit from Al's and Casey's combined fire?  Having missed the exchange, he couldn’t tell.

   The superimposed display showed where the enemy should have been behind the hill, and its most likely position after going down.  It also displayed far more damage, probably from a fall. 

   A small paranoid part of him brought up the notion the pirate was trying to draw them in with a ruse.

   Only the Crusader was in view.  However, another moment’s study showed its IR was slowly becoming brightly visible again.  While the pirate ’Mech absorbed heat from the burning inferno gel and the fire raging around it, its heat sinks were overloading.  It wasn’t cooling off. The old Succession Wars classic just didn’t have the dissipation capacity.  Casey guessed that even if the pilot could get his ’Mech started, he wouldn’t be able to move it out of the fire.

   The Crusader’s pilot must have come to the same conclusion.  In the few seconds it took Casey to figure it out, the Crusader’s head burst open.  Rocketing out of the fire, the pilot drifted from his chute to the ground many meters behind it, outside of the inferno.

   The Crud was out of the fight.

   Casey didn't hesitate.  Kicking on his jets, he rocketed his Griffin out over the tops of the trees and down into the valley between the two hills.

   "Now's our chance, Al.  Let's close on him."

   "What about a trap?"

   "With the Crud out, we can take him.  And your ’Mech does better in close," Casey said, ending with a woof when the Griffin landed hard.

   Al had already started forward as soon as Casey did, and wasn't too far behind.  So, the argument wasn't necessary.  The trap was still a concern.  The Awesome hadn't resumed its feet.  However, the two medium ’Mechs behind the hill hadn't moved, either.  They were still down at the bottom.

   As he activated his jets again, the upward momentum masked the sinking feeling that was building in Casey’s gut.  Were they thinking of running?  Considering they lost one of their own inside half a minute, something which shouldn't have happened so early, it was easy to see they were now outmatched.

   At the height of his jump, Casey could see the two pirate leaders.  Snarls Hunchback and Swoop's Phoenix Hawk turned away, as if they were about to run.  But, then he saw Javier running his ungainly Firestarter around the trees that covered the right side of the hill, right into range of their weapons.

   "Whoah!  Javier, you're too close. Watch out!" Casey called.

   "Aren't you in position?" Javier sounded calm, if confused.

   "The Awesome's not dead yet!"

   True to his word, and just as part of Casey had suspected, the Awesome slowly pushed itself to its feet right under his crosshairs.  Pulling the trigger for his PPC, he knew that as soon as he landed, he would be the target for all three of the other 'Mech's big guns.  Goosing his jets, he changed course.  He would come down just the other side of the slope, putting some of the bald hill between them.  Casey would at least have his legs covered.

   With the firing solution already set, he only had to watch the landing. Firing his jets one last time at the last minute, the Griffin's broad feet crushed grass while it crouched to absorb the rest of the landing.  Unexpectedly, his ’Mech sidestepped once, defensively trying to throw off the enemy's fire.

   Two beams lanced out from the barrels on either side of the Awesome's waist, dancing across the Griffin's armored chest.  While the paint blackened and metal glowed, the armor diagram on the HUD indicated the damage was negligible.

   While the Awesome's beams burned, the Griffin returned the favor, blackening the already blackened centerline under the enemy’s square chin.  It was quickly joined by two more blue particle beams and five red laser beams of varying diameter.

   Al's Warhammer wasn't too far behind Casey, loping steadily up the hill.

   The armor projection across the Awesome's visible front went red in the center when more armor chunks flash-vaporized and melted, leaving giant, jagged, cracked pits.  Its own defensive movement combined with the strong hits wasn’t enough to send the pirate toppling again, but this fight would be over soon at this range.  Another hit from anything would start piercing the Awesome's ruined metal hide on the center torso.

   A flash from the panoramic monitor caught Casey's eye and he glanced down, watching in sudden fascination the ruin Snarl's Hunchback was dishing out to Javier's poorly placed Firestarter. He was just observing the trail end of the attack when the giant blocky shoulder cannon paused in its flaming belch before spitting flame again.

   The Firestarter had already staggered from the first hit, trying to recover from having its shoulder forcefully wrenched to the side after a hailstorm of shells, only visible through HUD tracers, had nibbled away at the arm.  Covered in High Explosive smoke, Casey could only tell from damage diagram overlays how bad it was.  The armor was swiss cheese at this point and the gray metal muscle and support frame was no better.  The HUD painted it dark, destroyed.

   But the second blast went lower, hammering away all up and down the leg.  The assault put a shudder in the Firestarter's normal stride.  Then, in two steps, the fiery light 'Mech was on the ground, at about the same time Casey’s HUD painted the leg black.

   One step, and the Firestarter was clear of the smoke, its arm dropping limp to its side. The second step never came.  Riding on its bad leg, the Firestarter was propelled forward by its own momentum.  As it reached the end of its stride, the leg did not lift.  Instead, the knee gave under the weight, as if the ’Mech were dropping into a crouch on one leg.  Momentum carried it down and forward, the knee hitting the ground, bending the already mangled thigh.  The upper body continued forward, plowing into the grass and dirt on its beat-up shoulder.  Coming to a quick stop, the lifeless arm flopped to the ground beside it.

    Casey winced, the called out. “Javi.  You all right?"

   He heard a muttered curse.  “I'm fine! I'm fine.  Can you keep these guys off me?"

   “He won't have to,” Miko said.  “They're running.”

[Daemion]

Chapter 3, continued -

   Javier muttered a couple more curses. “Can you chase them?  Can anybody get to them?”

   Casey looked at the Awesome not sixty meters away from him. It took up a defensive stance.  The pirate wasn't going anywhere, and looked like he planned on being a roadblock for anyone who tried to pass.

   “Al, can you handle our friend?”

   “Not a problem,” Al replied.

   As Casey kicked on his jets, he watched his friend's Warhammer crest the hill with an extra bit of strength to its stride.  Its front was blackened from the constant beam exchanges between it and the Awesome.  Unlike the eighty-tonner's centerline, however, the damage overlay on Al’s ’Mech showed only minor damage.  As Casey sailed over the one thing between him and the running pirates, he knew without a doubt that the Warhammer would win out in a slugfest at such short ranges. 

   Casey brought the Griffin down in a relatively gentle landing, Missiles and PPC already triggered on the farthest fleeing back.  He was about to slam the throttle forward, urging his ’Mech into a run, when he was distracted by a sudden announcement by an unfamiliar, high-pitched feminine voice.

   "I surrender," she said.

   "Jav?" Al asked, sounding uncertain.

   Casey held back on the throttle while glancing up the hill.  The Awesome's square head had opened up, revealing a woman. Her dark hair blowing in the slight breeze, she raised her hands.

   "Good," Javier exclaimed.  “Hurry!  Go.  Both of you, keep them from getting away!  Miko and I will stay back and consolidate our gains."

   Al was already moving, his Warhammer working its way gently down the slope as fast as it could.  On the way down, he shot at the departing Snarl with both ER PPCs and four lasers which were hopelessly out of range.

   Casey waited for his friend to catch up.  Well before then, his weapons fired, the beam and missiles intercepting Swoop’s fleeing Phoenix Hawk.  Disappointingly, Swoop contorted around, throwing off the shots.  Casey couldn't help thinking that the LRM explosions actually gave the pirate a slight boost.

   Once Al was close, Casey started the Griffin running, toggling another solution with both missiles and particle cannon on Swoop.  The Phoenix Hawk ran at the same track star pace that Javi’s Firestarter could manage, undamaged.  Being the farthest away, Swoop was soon to be out of range.  Both Al and Casey could outpace Snarl’s much slower hunchback.  Unless anybody did something to slow her down, Swoop would escape.

   As Casey raced forward, Snarl started to drift in front of him.  Confused for a moment, his eyes quickly drifted down to the panoramic monitor.  He wasn't surprised to find Al's Warhammer keeping pace, almost step for step, with his Griffin.  It was eating up ground with extra strong strides.  Then he realized the effect it was having on Snarl.

   The Warhammer's hot IR signature was unmistakable. Under normal circumstances, any heavy 'Mech should have been left in the dust with the effect such heat would have on its control circuitry.  But it was keeping pace with a Griffin, instead.

   Casey's lips twisted in a grim smile.  Something he had taken for granted in many, many sim battles was one last surprise which had the pirate on edge.  Snarl was trying to keep away from a monster.  At the same time, Casey realized, he would be using the Griffin's poor short-range offense against it should he turn and fight.  When it turned to fight.  At the rate Al and Casey were closing with Snarl, that option was unavoidable.

   Running down a long, open valley dotted with small copses of trees and a small pond, Al and Casey got one more shot off at the Phoenix Hawk.  Swoop, in the distance weathered one more barrage while she made for the next set of hills and trees.  In ten more seconds, she would be to them. Then jump jets would make obstacles into instant cover, allowing escape.

   It was hopeless.  There would be no way anyone could catch up with Swoop, now. 

   Giving up that chase, Casey turned his attention toward Snarl, whose armor wasn't faring well under the PPC barrage Al served to him.  It was accompanied by four small laser beams which had no effect at this range other than to ruin a paint job further.  To anyone else, it would appear that Al was making a massive rookie mistake.  Casey had become used to it.  It was necessary for Al's Warhammer to keep up the speed boost he got from its custom installed Triple Strength Myomer.

   A series of flashes on the panoramic monitor briefly caught Casey’s attention.  Swoop was briefly engulfed in them.  LRM fire?  He couldn't tell where it had come from, but the effect was immediate.  Swoop stumbled and fell.

   That was the break they needed.

   But, Casey could no longer exploit it.

   “No!” A man screamed over the general frequency.  “Fine!  If I can't run, I'll take down as many of you bastards as I can with me!”

   Snarl's Hunchback suddenly wheeled around, heading right at the persuing mercenaries.

   Casey became all too aware of just how close he was to the huge gaping maw of the Ultra assault cannon on the Hunchback’s shoulder.  Slamming his throttle into reverse, trying to keep the distance open between the two machines.  His Griffin skidded to a halt before it started back-pedalling.  The cannon was powerful, but because of a monstrous recoil to match its monstrous barrage, it was only effective at really short ranges where it could maintain a shot grouping that could hurt a BattleMech’s armor.  Casey didn't want to be in those ranges.

   Al, on the other hand, had no such compunction.  He sped right by Casey, running his heavy ’Mech towards Snarl, though not directly.  The Warhammer's loping run could take it around and behind the Hunchback, keeping it out from under the assault gun's gaze.    

   Any caution Snarl had about proximity to his enemies had vanished.  Snarl ran his Hunchback headlong toward the hot enemy.  Both ’Mechs fired on each other as they closed.
Both ’Mechs performed defensive dances under the fire, trying to negate the damage. Snarl's cannon belched flame. In addition, both arms extended forward, their fists pointing at their target, each one firing a red laser from the wrists.

   The exchange was brutal.  Both Al's and Casey's PPCs blackened the untouched front plate on the Hunchback's chest, turning the HUD overlay from a nice green shading to a bright yellow.  Casey’s missiles followed immediately after to add more with their combined explosions.  The damage was enough, that Snarl's machine staggered.  But it recovered in side-stepping dance, and kept coming.

   The angle didn't allow a good look at Al's front.  Casey considered it a good sign his friend didn't stagger as well.

   The two closing giants got so close it looked like they might collide.  Both ’Mechs fired again.  Al's lasers burned from either side of the Warhammer's belly, six red coherent beams reaching up to connect on different parts of the Hunchback's frame as it swayed from side-to-side.  Snarl's arms still pointed at his target while the medium lasers replied, catching on different parts of the Warhammer as it ducked and weaved.  Then the Ultra belched fire and thunder at about the same time as Casey's LRMs and particle cannon.

   The smoke from the launchers clouded his view of the carnage playing out before him. However, he got to watch it all on his HUD, rendered against the gray swirl in front of the bubble canopy in colored outlines and infrared relief.

   Both sets of armor went red.  Snarl's slowly.  Al's surprisingly quick.  Both twisted and contorted from the shock of such brutal damage.  Still, they remained on their feet. 

   Then it got physical.

   Snarl stepped in and whipped out an armored leg, still green.  It bounced off the Warhammer's closest shin when Al took a step in.  The Warhammer's leg didn't change color.

   In fact, the recoil of the light blow almost tripped up the Hunchback.  But, it never reached the ground. 

   In a wide swing, Al whipped in one of the long-barreled PPCs from the side.  The adhoc club smashed through the Hunchback's shoulder and embedded itself in the side.  This arrested the Hunchback's fall.  But, Al didn't waste time.  The two were about to go down together, with his arm stuck.  Bringing the other arm up and over the stuck one, he pulled back and smashed it into Snarl's chest. The blow freed the stuck arm. It also left a nasty elongated dent all across the Hunchback's gut.

   Snarl's machine spun to the ground, landing heavily on its damaged shoulder. The final impact pressed the bad side in, making the ’Mech look unnaturally thin.  It slumped and its IR signature faded.  Facing catastrophic damage, the fusion engine's failsafe had cut the power.

   That fight was over.  It had all happened so quickly that the smoke from the LRMs had barely begun to clear.

   Casey stopped his Griffin's backward movement, and took a deep breath.  That had been way too close.

   “I understand your ’Mech’s capabilities," he said.  "But, next time, don’t play hero.  I taught you better than that.”

   “Right,” Al said.

   “How you holding up?”

   “Only a small breach in my right torso.  ECM‘s out.”

   Casey brought his crosshairs over his friend's blackened machine, toggling data readouts.  Its chest armor was dented and scorched from the beating that could only come from almost four hundred kilos of hot metal and explosives thrown at it in beer-can sized chunks.  He zoomed in further on what would have been a Short-Range Missile six-pack suspended over the Warhammer's right shoulder.  Casey spotted the gaping hole from a round which successfully penetrated the ’Mech's tough hide.  Every now and then, something sparked and puffed burnt electrical smoke.

   With a nod to himself, Casey pressed his throttle forward, bringing his Griffin to a run. The mission wasn't over yet.  The grounded Swoop hadn't moved in all that time, but she could get up and be running at any moment.

   Then he noticed the new BattleMech at the edge of the sensor horizon, striding casually down from a tree-covered hill.  Casey instantly Damien’s tan Highlander.

   “Took you long enough,” Casey said, sarcastic.  “It was you that knocked out Swoop, then?”

   “Yup,” Damien said.  “Cover me as I check her over.”

[Daemion]

Last of the chapter up tomorrow.

[Daemion]

Actually, on reflection, this is all of Chapter 3. 

Attached is the RTF for those who want it.

Chapter 4 pending.

Enjoy.

[Daemion]

Comment from the author: I apologize for the delay.  I have been working on this, but... life!  I will be putting this chapter up in pieces, as I plan on working on it little by little over the next few days.

[Daemion]

Chapter 4

Search Grid System 7
Planet 5
Rose Quartz LZ
4 April 3059


   One of the ore bins in the Quartz’s hold had originally been filled with excavation equipment just for the chance the plan went all the way.  Now, while that equipment was at work, it had been converted into an ad-hoc holding cell.  Overhead, the canvas tarp was rolled back, allowing the flood lamps to shine uninterrupted on nearly a dozen ‘pirates’ of all ages and genders.

   Al was on interior watch while a marine was posted outside the door, just in case something happened.  The prisoners were all bound, but this was not a proper jail by any stretch of the imagination.  None of them had been searched beyond a pat-down, so any one of them could he hiding a potential weapon or tool.

   Regardless of the risks, Al had been working up the nerve to start a conversation.  These were people he didn’t know.  He highly doubted if only one or two individuals in the lot were hard-core criminals.

   Finally, he worked past his complacency and strolled casually over to the one he recognized as ‘Snarl’, the Hunchback pilot.  He halted about fifteen feet away from the group.  Small conversations hushed while heads turned and speared him with wary looks.

   “So, who are you, really?” Al asked.

   Snarl, in spite of the Call-sign, was a clean-shaven man, with strong Caucasian features.  His sandy blonde hair was short-cropped, though thinning in places.  He cast around with his greenish brown eyes, hesitating to answer.

   Finally, Snarl answered with his own question.  “Why do you wanna know, eh?”

   It was still interesting to hear the accent.  Al decided to call it British Canadian, with all the trappings of American Canadian, but with a light Londoner lilt.  Snarl’s baritone made it all the more charming.

   “Look.  The way I see it, once we blast off from this rock, our paths will never cross ways again.  You’re part of this world.  You have a story.  I’d like to hear it.  I find it hard to believe that you just one day woke up and decided, ‘t’is the pirate life for me’.”

   Snarl looked around at the people nearest him.  The two closest were the girls.  They were just kids.  Not quite children, the youngest was just early into puberty, while the oldest was mostly likely sixteen or seventeen.  Both had strong resemblances to Snarl, thought the youngest had really dark hair.

   Though they didn’t say anything out loud, there was some sort of conversation going on, especially when the youngest shrugged.  Snarl turned back.

   “All right.  Sure.  We have some time to kill.  We were a mercenary unit, much like yourself.  It was a family affair.  Me, my wife and kids, and her brother, Barnstormer over there.”  The man in question reacted to hearing his name and looked up at Al, bored.  His dark hair matched the youngest daughter.  “We called ourselves the Brown Family Circus.” 

   Snarl had started to look distant while narrating.  He paused to look at Al directly again, for a brief moment.  “I’m Dustin Brown, by the way.  You’re that Warhammer pilot, eh?”

   “Yeah,” Al replied.  “Call me Al.”

   “Well, Al, nice to meet you.”  Dustin turned distant again.  “Stace and I had come to the end of our tour of duty.  Figured the mercenary life would help supplement income for our family estate.  The kids were in training at the time, so having them along in a heavy or assault ’Mech didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time.  But, things went south on our first mission.  A simple corporate raid gone bad.  Our ship bailed on us.  Effectively fugitives, we stole a ship of our own.  By the time we hijacked a jumper, there was no turning back.”

   “How so?”

   Dustin looked up at Al, looking sincere.  “Because the raid had been conducted inside our own national borders.  But steeling a jump ship, we disrupted national traffic.  Such things were most definitely unforgivable.”

   He went on to explain how they made it out to the sticks and started conducting raids to survive.




   Al knew it was only a matter of time before someone would try to use his fixed attention.  The youngest daughter, Geneva, thought she was being sneeky, fidgeting around on the ground to get beyond his peripheral view.  She hadn’t gotten far enough.  Al kept tabs on her through his peripheral vision with minor shifts of his head. 

   Suddenly, she stiffened.

   “Don’t do it,” Al drawled in warning, interrupting Dustin’s story.

   Unsurprisingly, her arms came up, unbound, and she launched at him, something in her left hand.  Instinct kicked in, and he dodged the make-shift weapon, entrapping the arm and the girl in a couple deft moves.  Then, he wrenched the weapon from her hand with enough force that she gasped in pain.

   “Y’know,” he said, taking a moment to observe the weapon, wrapped in clothe, “it’s going to take something stronger than this to take me down.”

   Still keeping the young girl restrained with one arm, Al went to snap the stick between thumb and both fore- and middle-finger on the same hand.  It was a moment too late when he realized the object was metal.  From the way it bent, it was probably something like a copper tube, which would normally take most people both hands to bend slowly.  When it bent in half with no effort on his part, the reactions were varied and immediate.  Geneva quit moving.  A chorus of gasps and curses went out at different volume levels.

   Cat out of the bag, Al added more conversationally, “Something much more explosive.  Much more.”

   Dustin had a look of open disgust on his face.  “A cyborg, eh?”  Then the man’s look softened.  “Prosthetics to replace injuries?”

   “It’s a little more complicated than that, but apt.”  He looked at Geneva.  “Time to get those restraints replaced.”

[Daemion]

Decisions and Consequences


Search Grid System 7
Planet 5
Rose Quartz LZ
26 April 3059


   At the end of Casey’s watch, when Al came in to relieve him, Geneva “The Escape Artist” Brown attacked Al again.  She hadn’t tried the trick on anyone else, only Al.  It had become a daily affair. Security was baffled by how Geneva had found her way out of every restraint they put on her.

   Over the weeks, people higher up had given up on fancy restraints.  Simply recuffing her and keeping double watch over the cameras was the final solution.  The event took on a recognizable pattern, quickly becoming routine.  Each time, Geneva slipped her restraints just at the moment Al entered the pen.  Each time, he readily and easily rebuffed the young teen’s attack. 

   “What did you find, this time?” Al droned, bemused.  He wrested an object from Geneva’s hands, proffering a bolt.

   “Where did she find that?” Casey exclaimed.  He recognized what it was, but after her first attempt on Al, the place had been scoured for loose debris.  Each time she found something to use as a potential weapon.

   “Probably one of the floor seals along the wall.”  Al waved the bolt in an indicative sweep.  He looked up at the camera.  “Somebody has been snoozing, because it would’ve taken time to work it free.”

   “She’s sneaky,” Casey said, defensively.  “She’ll sit in places, looking like she’s doing absolutely nothing.”

   “Anyway,” Al said, “restraints!  Casey?  Want to do the honors?”

   Casey reapplied the cuffs a little extra tight. 

   “Ow!” Geneva exclaimed, sounding severely pained.  “Don’t go cutting off my circulation!”

   Casey smiled at her venomously.  “Better you trying to free yourself than be running around freeing everyone else.”

   He started to walk her to the center of the pen when he heard activity at the door.  It creaked with the weight of heavy metal on strained hinges as it swung open.  In stepped McMurty, the Liaison.  Behind him were a quartet of guards Casey didn’t recognize.  He pointed at Dustin and his two girls. 

   “She wants to see those three,” he said. 

   The guards moved at his indication.  McMurty strolled over to Casey and Al.

   “What’s going on?” Al asked, looking as confused as Casey felt.

   “Your job is done mercenary.  My mistress has arrived.  She wants a private meeting with the MechWarriors.  If you want, you can help with the transfer of the rest of the prisoners.”

   “Something tells me there should be a mercenary representative at this meeting,” Al said, a touch defiant.

   Casey suddenly clued into what Al might be hinting at.  “Yeah,” he added.  “Our job’s not done until we’re off this rock and we have the final installment.  We brought these three in alive.  Wouldn’t want the employer to suddenly say we didn’t.”

   McMurty studied them with a blank expression made even more unreadable by his black sunglasses.  Considering where he just came from, they weren’t that out of place.  And the bays of the Quartz were well-lit. 

   With a sigh, he shrugged.  “Suit yourself.”

   McMurty turned and left before Al and Casey could consult, following the guards and prisoners through the door.  They were quickly replaced by more Magistracy soldiers who moved toward the rest of the pirate band sitting scattered throughout the pen.   

   Al quickly turned turned to Casey, and said, “I’m going.  You want to stay and help with the transfer?”

   Al was already starting to walk toward the door.  Casey moved to keep up.  “It’s probably a good idea that you have back-up.  I’m coming with.  Looks like these guys have the rest handled.”

   It didn’t take but a few quick steps to catch up with McMurty and the entourage.  As they made their way down the wide central cargo gantry separating the different ore bins, they quickly ran into Damien.  Their leader quickly took up stride with McMurty.

   “What’s going on?” Damien asked.  When he didn’t get a reply, he shot a look at Casey and Al. 

   “The sponsor has requested a private meeting with the Brown Family Circus,” Casey said.  “We weren’t invited, but it stands to reason there should be mercenary representation at this meeting.”

   “Astute,” Damien said, sounding mildly irate and glaring at McMurty.  “Keep with them.  I’ll get Jav and Miko.  I think we should all be there.”

   With that, Damien stopped at a wall-com while Al and Damien followed the Magistracy soldiers and Browns to the port airlock down a side gantry.




   Outside, the bright light of the system’s sun bleached the colors of practically everything, and Casey wished he had glasses which matched McMurty’s.  They had to walk down an extended ramp.  The long slender hull of the Rose Quartz was suspended in an open, brown grassy field on its own landing gear.  Well behind the ship were piles of dirt and scattered heavy excavation machines.  Huge square troughs marked where the machines had burrowed into the ground to open up the landing gear doors allowing the ship to eventually right itself.

   Once on the ground, Casey took a moment to look back, watching some of the Quartz Technical staff working on repairs to the undercarriage hull.  Thankfully, the pilot pulled off a nice skid that didn’t tear up the ship too badly.  Even a Buccaneer Class dropper would have been a very expensive write-off.

   Darran’s voice echoed in Casey’s head about Al’s insane luck.  For a moment, Casey wondered if they would have been so lucky had Al not been here.  That kind of luck felt a little unreal, however, and Casey quickly dismissed the thought when Damien, Javier and Miko came racing up.

   The mercs followed the soldiers and prisoners only a few more yards, where a woman in regal livery stood with two other soldiers.  Both men had their weapons at the ready, though not aimed at anyone in particular.  McMurty confirmed Casey’s suspicions when he addressed the woman.

   “The prisoners, as you requested,” he said with even deference.

   The woman looked like she was probably in her forties or fifties, but Casey knew that the Magistracy had a reputation for good medicine.  It was possible she was far older than she looked.  It was hard to tell, even when she spoke.  She had been fussing with a lock of brown hair, but now she let it go and studied the family Brown with a light squint.

   “Good,” she said.  Her eyes then went to the mercenaries.  “Who are these dropship crewmen?”

   “These are actually the mercenaries who fought the pirates and won,” McMurty replied.

   “We brought these prisoners in alive,” Damien said boldly.  “We don’t want anything happening to them that would suggest otherwise.”

   She frowned.  “I’m sorry, but this is a private meeting.  Guards!”

   The six soldiers snapped up, guns trained on the mercenaries.  Casey’s pulse quickened as he tensed.  The whole group was flat-footed.  If she ordered them shot now, there would be nothing anyone could do.   

   “Make sure they don’t move.  McMurty, bring the prisoners.”  She cast about, and pointed to one of the excavation mounds.  “Over there, out of sight and earshot.”

   “Yes, Madame,” McMurty acknowledged. 

   Pulling his gun out, he signaled to the Browns to start moving.  They hesitantly complied.  Dustin looked back on the mercs, fixing on Al with a worried look for a moment before a shove forced him to watch his step.

   “We have justice already,” McMurty said to his mistress while they walked.  The rest of the conversation was muffled by distance and wind. 

   Casey watched the group until they turned to disappear behind the mound.  Al then turned to leave, but Miko whipped up an arm to stop him.  She gave him a direct look and shook her head, nodding at the soldiers with guns trained on each of them.

   “You’ll get us killed,” she said, quietly.  “We have a chance to walk away from this alive.”

   Al looked on Miko with a surprised, contemplative look.

   Before anyone could say anything further, the hiss-snap of laser fire came unmistakably from behind the mound. 

   “But, they won’t,” Al said.

   McMurty and the sponsor came from behind the hill, strolling calmly.  None of them appeared injured.  Casey wondered what kind of story they might spin to cover three murders.

   “Don’t worry Casey,” Al said.  “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

   Casey studied Al intently for a few seconds.  Al merely looked intent, studious while he took in the surroundings.  Mind going back to Geneva’s attacks, Casey wondered just what Al though he could do if things went south.  Shifting his gaze to the guns, he noticed they were all laser carbines.  Anyone in front of the barrel would be dead the moment a soldier pulled a trigger.

   A minute passed by like an eternity before McMurty and the sponsor stopped not far away. 

   The sponsor eyed the group.  “And, what should we do with them?”

   “We brought those prisoners in alive,” Damien said, defiant.

   McMurty brightened.  “And, it’s not their fault the Browns were shot trying to escape from our custody.  Their job was finished.”

   “Yes,” the madame said, gaze distant while she contemplated.  “You did bring them in alive, and you will be rewarded accordingly.  Also,” she said, turning whistful and looking at Damien directly.  “I would like to invoke the priority salvage clause.  I want to keep Snarl’s and Swoop’s personal ’Mechs.  The other two are yours.”

   Damien shot a look at Javier, who shrugged.

   “The Hunchie is a write-off,” Javier said, “and the Pixie is a medium design needing a whole new head assembly.  Not that big of a loss.”

   “Except maybe for the advanced equipment,” Damien muttered.  He turned to the matron.  “Sure. It’s part of the contract.  As long as we’re properly compensated.”

   The sponsor nodded, suddenly at ease.  “Very good.  Let them go!  I need a detail to handle the bodies.”

   The soldiers lifted their guns and a sergeant started listing off a trio of the guards to follow him. 

   “You’re free to go,” McMurty said. 

   He didn’t wait, following his mistress and two guards as they departed for a nearby ground vehicle.  Witth the soldiers moving to deal with the bodies and the sponsor’s entourage driving away toward their DropShip, the mercs were left to their own devices.

   Casey finally noticed the Magistracy ship while he watched the ground vehicle drive over the tough brown grass.  The Union Dropship poking out above a distant set of trees behind a low swell.  It was well outside the Quartz’s potential take-off path, thankfully.  Being a spheroid design, it could just blast off whenever it suited the crew.

   “I don’t like how she said we’ll be ‘compensated’ “, Damien said.  “We’ll need to watch our backs until the Quartz is off this rock and docked successfully on the Lucky Tramp.  Pair off, and don’t let your partner leave your sight for the time, being, understood?”

   “Al and Casey, and Me and Miko,” Javier said.  “What about you, boss?  You and Jeun?”

   “No.  We have our technical staff with us.  Each warrior and his or her Tech.  I’ll inform Captain Black of the situation.”
* * *

[Daemion]

Chapter 4, Continued -

Search Grid System 7
Transit Toward Zenith
Rose Quartz
26 April 3059


   The Quartz’s mess was practically empty.  Under a full gravity, it felt as if nothing had changed while Casey sat in one of the steel chairs, leaning an arm on a matching metal table.  His shift was over and he was taking a moment to relax before getting a bite to eat. 

   Al walked up to the table and sat down across from Casey with a full tray of food.  The younger warrior, dressed in Quartz crew coveralls, mumbled something over the meal before digging in.  Casey sat up, observing his friend eat, while a topic came to mind.

   “You’re still praying, after what we saw today?”

   “Everything in my life is providence, Case.  So, yeah.”

   Casey was silent a few seconds while he pondered Al’s answer.  Eventually, he voiced his own opinion, his own confusion.  “I get that there’s a creator.  But, I have a hard time fathoming a god who will let good people die like that.”

   “Oh, there are all kinds.  Thank God they’re not here.  Anymore.  But, you’re talking the Creator All-Father God.  Now, that’s a little more complicated.”  Al took a bite of meat and chewed it down, swallowing before he continued.  He looked contemplative, his eyes only in Casey’s general direction as he spoke.  “As for them being good, everyone’s good, in their own way, Case.  And, everyone’s bad, or evil, in their own way.  Let’s look at their rap sheet for a moment.” Another bite.

   “The Brown Family Circus committed acts of piracy.  Not only did they do it outside their home empire, but inside it as well.  Other people were killed in their raids, whether intentionally or by accident.  As pirates, what kind of punishment do most planets have for them?”

   “Generally, they’re executed,” Casey answered with a conceding nod.

   “And, even if they were extradited from the Magistracy, they would be going back to convictions of acts of treason.  What kind of fate would they have in the FWL?”

   “I can’t say for sure, but generally, treason is an executable offense.”

   “So, in general, what would their fate have been?”

   “They would have died.”  Casey looked down at the table, not very happy with this line of reasoning.  But, it was unavoidable.

   Al took another bite, and swallowed.  “Now.  Are the laws by which they are judged artifacts of a god, or man?”

   Casey tried to brighten up and answer lightly.  He barely succeeded.  “Men.”

   Al waggled his head to the side in a half-shrug.  “Actually, the answer would be both.  A lot of the codes of conduct we base our laws off are derived from Judeo-Christian laws and edicts, which, in a world with a God, would have been dictated by him.”

   “But, man is involved,” Casey concluded. 

   He studied his friend a moment.  Al had paused in his eating to study Casey in return, looking for all the world like nothing had happened earlier today.  Casey felt curious, a sense of wonder at how Al could treat that moment so academically. 

   “You seem to be taking this well enough,” he said.

   Al shrugged.  “I guess it’s easy to forget I’m well-traveled.  I’ve been in a couple situations like this before.  It wasn’t easy to accept that I couldn’t do anything, that an atrocity like that was part of my life, my journey, now.  But, it is.  I’ve been through the mourning process a few times.”  He took another bite, which got swallowed quickly, with gusto.  “Besides, I imagine our ‘Sponsor’,” he emphasized her title with a very slight toss of his head, “will come to regret her decision in the future.  Whether it’s karma or answering to a higher power, it’s a matter of time.”

   “You’re right,” Damien said from the doorway.

   Both Al and Casey turned to look at the mercenary commander in near unison.  The swarthy Mediterranean man strolled casually to the table and sat down on the end, pulling up a chair from another table.  He eyed Casey and Al openly, looking like he had a secret he was about to divulge.

   “Countess Maria DuVall will come to regret her decision.  Sooner, rather than later, I suspect.”

   “Any idea why she took matters into her own hands?” Casey asked.

   Damien brightened even further.  “That’s what I came to discuss.  I figured you,” he indicated Al, “should know.  Good ol’ Captain Black had made an inquiry of the Lucky Tramp.  Turns out a courier had shown up while they were on their way here.  It’s hard to say whether this is true or not, but scuttlebutt has it that a rival noble on her homeworld of Bass had discovered the pirate hunting operation.  That rival had discovered the identity of our quarry, the Browns, their story, and was planning to put in a word to exonerate them during their trial.  Maybe even go so far as to let them free, giving them amnesty in the Magistracy.”

   “So, if she wanted justice for her lost daughter-in-law, it had to be done here and now,” Casey said with an understanding nod.  “I take it the bodies are still back on Grid 7 Planet 5.  And, without that evidence, the report of their aborted escape will go through without a hitch.”

   The bad taste in his mouth killed any appetite Casey had built up from the day of work.

   “Any idea whether the Browns are who they say they were?” Al asked.

   Damien shook his head.  “We won’t be able to verify until we have access to an HPG.  But, their tactics match up with what we encountered.”

   Casey took a moment to reflect on the battle, a couple weeks back.  He smiled and harrumphed. “They put the girls in the heavier ’Mechs to protect them with the thicker armor.  But, they would often have the girls use that armor to scout out any trouble, the parents ready to jump in and help them out as necessary.”

   “They weren’t expecting us, or the fight to be as one-sided as it was,” Damien said, smiling ruefully. 

   “ ‘Hudini’, the escape artist escaped the fire, while ‘Swan’ the diver hit the dirt,” Al added, reflective.  “ ’Snarl’ the lion tamer, and ‘Swoop’, the trapeze artist.  I admit, when I first heard ‘Snarl’ and ‘Swoop’, I was thinking something a tad more prehistoric.”

   “What do you mean?” Casey asked, though he knew right away he probably wouldn’t get the reference. 

   Al shrugged and waved it off.  “Eh.  An old cartoon.  Don’t worry about it.”

   As the younger warrior went back to polishing off his meal, Damien looked him over, then did the same with Casey.  Casey looked at the merc commander in open curiosity.

   “Well,” Damien said, drawling the word out.  “I hope you’re not worried that every mission will turn out like this.”

   Al shook his head, his mouth full.

   Casey also shook his head, adding, “no real worry.”

   “I’ve had some jobs where the worst possible things I’d ever have to face was during training or the probationary period,” Al said, mouth empty.  “This is nothing new.”

   “I’m glad,” Damien said.  “You both handled yourselves very well.  When we get back, we can sign you on properly.  Have Miko and Jav run you through some basics to see where you stand with physical combat and your knowledge of mil-tech.”

   Both men nodded.  Damien stood, clapping them both on the shoulder.  He departed, while Al finished his tray.  Al got up and left, also.

   On his own, Casey mused over the good news.  With any luck, he would have his debts repaid in no time, and then he could finally face his ghosts.  With things looking up, his appetite returned, and Casey went to the kitchen window.

* * *

[Daemion]

Chapter 4, continued -



Vagabond Legion of the Damned HQ
Dragonback Ridge
Astrokaszy
4 June 3059


   The trip home was a mix of monotony and testing.  Javier took the weeks of zero g to run through Al’s and Casey’s tech evaluations.  Casey, having been brought up in a MechWarrior family, complete with academy training, as well as a short stint of service in both his planetary militia and a Lyran front line regiment had him acing a lot of the quizzes.  Al, however was a mixed bag.  His chassis recognition of BattleMechs, Tanks, Vehicles, and even some of the new production BattleArmor was really good.  He even identified some of the new OmniMechs which Casey had never seen before.  His grasp of tactics and history were mixed, and he even threw in event references from obscure entertainment to match some historical outcomes.  But, his grasp of modern engineering was next to non-existent.  Al proved to be a quick study, however.

   Now that everyone was back at the Legion’s HQ in the old mining complex and packed away, time was approaching for the hand-to-hand and physical fitness evaluations.  Casey had been able to ignore the pending date, until Miko summoned both he and Al and their technicians out into the bay.
Casey was the first one out and headed toward the cargo area.  Al was not far behind.  Casey had no idea where the Techs were.

   One his way over to the cargo area, he looked over at the two Crusaders in adjacent ’Mech bays.  The head of the most recent acquisition had been restored from the damage the ejection had caused.  It now hung from the overhead pully system, suspended over the pristine shoulders of the first Crusader that hadn’t moved from the first day Casey arrived.

   He spotted both Chin and Blue down at the feet of the ’Mech, talking with some Vagabonds and the other technical staff.  One of them spotted Casey and waved.  Casey waved back and indicated the cargo pad.

   “Eval,” he shouted.

   Both Chin and Blue looked at one another, said a few words and broke away from the group. 

   Amid the stacks of ammunition and parts containers, a lot of Vagabonds sat, stood or leaned around some mats that had been laid out.  Casey guessed that nearly all of the Legion turned out for the evaluation.  He spotted people placing bets.  For a moment, he thought about putting some down of his own, but decided against it.

   This was the kind of spectacle that Casey had dreaded.  He knew he was average at best when it came to hand-to-hand.  Partially trained in a couple techniques, he could block some punches, throw some kicks, and maybe pin or take someone down.  Nothing like what he saw Al doing.  It would be a poor performance if he had to follow that.

   “Everyone’s going to have a hoot watching my ass get tossed around,” Blue said casually as he stepped up next to Casey. 

   Chin had also joined him, along with the rest of the Tech crew from the ’Mech Bay.  With the kids also running around, Casey was pretty sure the entire Legion was now present.  A few seconds later, Al joined them.

   “I hope none of you placed bets on me,” he said. 

   A quick study revealed an open, studious expression on Al’s face.  Before Casey could ask what he meant, Miko walked out into the middle of the mat, a notepad in hand.  She looked around at the crowd and then at the two warriors and their technicians.

   “Alius Cad’ver,” she said.  “From what I saw on the security feed for a month, as well as testimonies about your fight with Nimaj outside Stum’s Bar, I’m giving you a pass.”  There were a lot of groans and some currency exchanges on the side.  Miko continued on, pausing long enough for the din to die down.  But, she was quickly interrupted.  “So, that means, Casey -”

   “Wait a minute.  How is that fair?” 

   The woman who interrupted was the blond Clanswoman that he had first met a couple months back.  From what little exposure Casey had to Clan people and culture, he was sure she fit the bill.  She called herself Down. 

   Down pressed on when Miko looked at her.  “I had to undergo an evaluation of my prowess.  We all did.” She waved her arm to include her dark-haired friend, though she included the rest of the legion.  “I’m fully versed in four styles of hand-to-hand combat, and I had to show it.  And, yet, he gets a free pass from mere hearsay?”

   “I’ve seen what he’s capable of,” Miko said.  “And, I’m satisfied.”

   “But I have not!” Down blurted, irritated.  She paused long enough to compose herself.  “We have not.  For all I know, he just got lucky.” She speared Nimaj with a pointed look.  “We never hear the end of the tales of Al’s luck from Darran, after all.”  She turned her jade green eyes to Al.  “There may come a time when we have to fight together.  I, for one, would like to know in which situations I can trust your skills.”

   Casey couldn’t help noting how proper Down’s English was, even though her accent was as flat, as Terran, as Al’s.  Not a single contraction.  Yet, it sounded as perfectly natural as Al’s constant use of contractions.  One more point in favor of her being one of the SLDF in exile returned. 

   Even more worrisome to Casey, he partially agreed with her.

   “Valid points,” Miko said in a conceding tone.  That quickly changed to a matter-of-fact delivery.  “However, the chances of the Legion having to fight alongside us in any capacity is slim.  The only real time that may matter is in four months, when you’re finally eligible to test for manning any company salvage we bring back, correct?”

   “They arrived early November,” Nimaj stated.  “More like five months.”

   Miko nodded.   “Five months before you even get the chance at manning a BattleMech.  That’s the only situation I foresee you in fighting alongside us.  The Legion has its own methods, separate from ours.  My statement stands.  Al gets a pass”

   Down’s brows furrowed as she visibly turned miffed. “I -,” she started to say, but suddenly became conscious of everyone else, looking around like a startled hen.  She finished with a mutter.  “I still don’t like it.”

   Al sighed, then breathed, “Better take care of this now.”

   Casey eyed his friend.  “Or what?”

   “They’ll jump me in the hallway, or something like that,” Al said in a quiet voice.  Louder he addressed Down.  “You don’t like it.  So, you could say you have a grievance with the decision?”

   Down looked at Al, open surprise all over her face.  “I do,” she replied hesitantly.

   “Enough so that it’s worth dueling over?” Al asked.

   A flash of raw insight passed over Down’s face before she stiffened with resolve, a sudden twinkle in her eye.  “A Trial of Grievance over the decision.  I would like to issue one.”

   Al stepped out of the crowd, pausing just short of the mat.  From what Casey could see, he, too had a twinkle in his eye.  “Well, as I see it, by challenging me to a duel, you’ll have achieved what you wanted.  So, what would you want should you win?”

   Down had stepped out of the crowd as well, but hesitated at the question.

   Her comrade, Perry, grinned mischievously, saying, “Take his ’Mech.”

   Down shook her head.  “No.  Something more reasonable.”

   “You jaded turkeys have no sense of humor,” Perry replied with a mock frown.

   Down ignored the verbal barb, deep in thought.  “If I win, I would like to be eligible for the trials to man the Crusader.”

   “I don’t have that kind of clout,” Al said, looking a little disappointed.

   “Done,” Nimaj Junior said from his seated spot on a crate.  “If you win, that is.”

   “And if you win?” Down asked, sounding wary.

   “If I win, you get to tell me which Clan you’re from, and how you, as a Clansman, ended up in this part of the periphery.”

   Down blinked a couple times, stunned.  Then she smiled wickedly.  “Bargained well and done.  I accept.”

   “Likewise,” Al replied.

   With that decree, the crowd started to buzz with excitement.  Casey spotted a new exchange of bets with a small number of bookies.  For a moment, he thought about putting down a bet on his friend.  But, then he recalled the strange statement Al made when he arrived.  Studying his friend, Casey caught Al look in his direction and slightly shake his head.

   “What do you think?” Blue asked.  “Should I put some money down on Al?”

   “No,” Casey said.  “The Clanner.”

   Blue looked at Casey in surprise. “Wait, what?”

   “You’re still sticking with that?” Chin chided.

   Casey gestured at Al and the two women.  “She has effectively proven she is.”

   Chin simply grinned.

   Blue looked out at Al and Down.  With a sigh, he said, “If you say so.”  He disappeared behind the crowd. 

   Casey returned his attention to the mat and the duel being prepared.  Al and Down both walked to meet with Miko at the heart of the mat.

   “So, what are the parameters for winning?” Al asked.  When Down shot him a confused look, he added, “It’s not like we’re fighting to the death.  How do you know when you win?”

   Down pointed to the well-defined three-meter circle on the mat.  “First one to land bodily on the mat or leave the circle loses.”  She looked at Miko.  “You should choose one or two others to help you referee.”

   Miko nodded.  “Take your positions,” she said before gesturing to Father and Son Nimaj. After a quiet consultation with the two tribal elders, the all took up positions.  “When you are ready, you may begin.”

   Al and Down stood a meter apart in the center of the circle.  Down took up a ready stance, something Casey recognized from karate.  Al also took up a guarded stance.  Then, Al gave a slight nod before launching at Down.  The strike was a basic punch, which Down deflected handily.  Al managed to retract just in time to counter a strike from Down. 

   They went back and forth for a couple minutes.  The strikes turned into grapples and grabs.  At one point, Down managed to toss Al over her shoulder.  He managed to land on an extended arm, whipping his feet down to keep from landing bodily on the mat.  It was an impressive move. 

   After approximately twenty exchanges, Down finally got the best of Al, catching him and flipping him to the ground sideways.  To Casey, it looked like there was nothing Al could have done to prevent the fall.  However, as Miko called the match, Down paced away, looking frustrated, maybe angry.

   “The results are void,” Down finally declared.

   “What do you mean?” Nimaj Junior asked.  “You won.”

   “I did not win,” she snapped.  With a hard gesture at Al, she said, “He let me win!”

   The crowd went silent. 

   “How do you know?” Miko asked, openly curious.

   More calmly, Down replied.  “I have seen it with my training instructors.  They want me to succeed in executing a move, and they would have to reign in an impulse, a trained instinct, to let me follow through.”  She turned to Al, who slowly rose to his feet, “I saw the instinctive start to a defense, a counter, and then you would stop.  But, that was not hesitation.”   

   “Are you sure I wasn’t just getting lucky?” Al asked.  “Holding my own as long as I did against such a learned opponent?”

   She flashed a derisive smirk.  “I am not sure whether to be insulted or impressed.  It takes far more control to fail a move you know so well that it does to simply let your body react on instinct.  No.  I did not win.  This is a mistrial.  The results are invalid.”

   “I am impressed that you noticed when the rest of us failed to,” Miko said.  “Even though I knew he had thrown the fight.”

   “You knew?” Nimaj Junior looked surprised.

   “Oh, yeah.  When you see the security footage, you’ll see why I was willing to pass him without this duel.”

   From Casey’s vantage, he could see the confusion on Down’s face when she turned to Al.  “Why?”

   Al lightly shrugged.  “If not now, I would have had to deal with yours and others’s curiosity later.”

   “I mean, why purposely fail?”

   “It was an unfair match-up.  There’s no fun in showing that off.  Besides, when you made your request, helping you along felt like a neat idea.”

   The elder Nimaj chuckled, his base rumbling in the open space of the cave.  “A gift.  He didn’t throw the fight.  He was giving you your prize.”

   Casey had mixed feelings about the sentiment.  He still harbored resentment for what the Clans did to his home, and his family’s BattleMech.  They were the reason he was in the mess he was in.  But, Casey knew from personal experience that Al had the upper hand in hand-to-hand combat.  To see him use that ability to help somebody else brought a welling of pride and respect inside Casey.  He smiled and nodded in Al’s direction.

   Al seemed to notice and nodded back.

   “Kindness,” Nimaj Junior said with open relish, laying a hand on Al’s shoulder.  He then laid a hand on Down’s shoulder. “Honesty.  Such character is definitely worthy of joining our tribe.  Father, with your permission, we will honor the results.”

   The elderly Nimaj nodded his approval.    

   “Then, Down is the victor, and she is now part of the Vagabond Legion of the Damned.  She’ll be eligible for the tests to man the -3L Crusader.”

   There was applause from the spectators.  Casey robotically added a couple claps of his own, but no more.  As part of the Legion, he would have to get used to working with the two Clan women.  How long it would take for him to get over his resentment was something about which Casey had no clue.

      Al moved to join Casey and the Techs while Miko marked off some notes on her notepad.  But, Down caught up with Al.  Her face was stony, and Casey guessed this wasn't over.

   “Now, show me what you really can do,” Down demanded.

   Halting, Al looked in Down's general direction.  “You don't want that.”

   The idle chatter and exchanging of bets went silent as everyone tuned in.

   “The match is over,” Down said.  “But, you have failed to really show me what you are capable of.  Show me.”

   Down hadn't stopped moving toward Al.  When he closed his eyes in a sigh, she was close enough to whip out a punch.  Casey saw the simplest of Hay-Makers.  It would have connected with the side of Al's head.  But, in the instant she lashed out, shouting, “Show me!” one more time, Al reacted with lightning reflexes. 

   The move was simple enough for Casey to recognize in the after image burned into his memory.  He was familiar enough to see a typical Aikido block-and-lock take down.  In the span of a heartbeat, Al had chicken-winged her, and sent her to the floor on her back.  The room resounded with the slap sound as she hit the mat.

   There was no other sound in the area for many seconds.

     Casey saw the dazed look on Down's face, and wondered if her head had hit a little to hard from the fall.  She should have been thankful that was the extent of her injury.  The shoulder lock Al used had some much nastier applications.  Broken bones in the arm or shoulder were an easy possibility if extra force was put into applying the lock.  Instead of tripping her to the ground, Al could have stomped into the outside of her lower leg, snapping her shin.  She had received the humane version.

   In the next instant, Al grabbed the fallen Down by both shoulders.  With no sign of imbalance he lifted her upright and settled her to her feat.  It took a couple seconds for Down to steady her footing before he let go.

   “Will that suffice?” Al asked, quietly.  In the silence of the training circle, he was still clearly audible.

   Down gave a very small nod, wide-eyed.

   “Make sure you get that looked at,” Al said, patting the arm he had locked. 

   She nodded again, more confident.

   Al turned and finished his journey toward Casey and their technicians.  As he did, people started talking again, a little more animated than usual.

   It wasn't the move that was impressive to Casey.  It was the speed and precision.  And, then the display of strength.  Al looked strong enough, but Down wasn't a lightweight, for a woman.  It was beyond normal, though Casey still felt it was a stretch to think it might be super-human.

   His silent stewing was interrupted when the two Clan women arrived, both looking anxiously at Al.

   Down was the first to speak.  “You were right,” she said, apologetic.  “I imagine if you had shown me what you could really do, I would be dead.   Thank you.”

   Excitement and curiosity filling her voice, Perry jumped in.  “Which Clan are you from?  How did you get here?”

   “I’m not Clan,” Al answered.  “I'm from Earth.”

   “You mean you are Terran,” Down said to clarify.

   Al smirked lopsidedly.  “I mean Terran, born and raised.  Where I'm from, it was called Earth.  Always will be Earth as far as I'm concerned.“

   “But, you know about Clan trials,” Perry said.

   Al flashed a fuller smirk.  “It’s complicated, but I am familiar with the lore behind your people, the children of Kerensky, and the form they took after the SLDF-in-exile’s exodus.  In time, I’ll explain it to you, and you,” he finished with a look at Casey.

   “Then, were you not interested in my history, and how I got here?” Down asked, sounding doubtful, looking slightly hurt.

   “Oh, I do,” Al said, serious.  “But, I figured there would come a time when I could just ask, and you’d be willing to tell me.  I don’t need to force it out of you as a prize in a duel.”

   Down calmed down, giving Al a considered look.  “That may very well be the case.  In time.”

   She flashed a slight smirk, and went to lay a hand on Al’s shoulder, but paused.  For the first time, Casey noticed a slight twitch from Al, the beginnings of a move away from her hand.  Then Casey noted the controlled expression on Al’s face.  His return smirk was slightly strained for the duration of the twitch.  Down’s smirk took on a serenity, a sage-like look of understanding.  She finished laying her hand on his shoulder as she moved away. 

   Then an elbow nudged at Casey’s ribs.  He turned to find Blue nodding out toward the mat, and Miko. 

   “Good call,” Blue said, visibly counting the local scrip.

   Casey offered him a lopsided smile while he headed out to his own evaluation.

   “Well, folks,” he said, loud enough for the crowd to hear.  “Dopn’t expect anything similar that.  Maybe the first part.  But, it won’t be self-control when I mess up.”

   The crowd chuckled and laughed at his joke.

* * *

[Daemion]

Chapter 4, continued -


   “Well, gentleman, what do you think?”  Damien asked.

   Both were in the little office again, and two individual contracts sat on his desk, waiting for Al and Casey to read and sign.  Al picked up his and started reading.  Casey knew there were no changes from the last time at a glance.  He made to reach out and take the paper document, but hesitated with a visible wave.

   “Do you remember my statement about salvage?” Casey asked.  “It’s important that any that I kill becomes mine.  After all, I have a debt to pay, eventually.  It’s a matter of honor and pride for me.”

   “I did, and I included a clause on page three about salvage and ownership.”

   “It’s there,” Al said.  “ ‘Any confirmed, uncontested kills give the pilot who scored said kills right to claim any materials as personal salvage, barring mission contract restrictions.’ “

   “That’s why I have you here,” Damien said, looking up at Nimaj senior

   Standing just behind Damien’s shoulder, the elder Nimaj looked very similar to his son.  His faced was weathered and wrinkled with age, and he was a touch wider around the middle than his progeny.  Otherwise, the two were a spitting image of each other. 

   “With your approval, I’m offering the same deal to the Legion,” Damien continued.  “Any kills your people make stay theirs.  But, it has to be uncontested and confirmed.  Otherwise, the material becomes company property.  Sound fair?”

   Nimaj remained stoic, but his eyes looked watery.  For a moment, his voice momentarily wavered when he spoke.  “This is truly a blessed day.  A day of gifts, all around.  I approve.”

   Damien beamed.  Out of the central drawer, he pulled out a third contract, which looked different on the face from what was offered to Casey and Al.  He set it on the corner of the desk within Nimaj’s reach and laid a pen on it.

   “I had an amended deal written up.”

   Nimaj didn’t even bother reading.  With apparent faith in Damien’s word, he took up the pen, found the signing line on the last page, and scrawled his signature and the date.  He then offered the pen to Al, who was closest.

   Al took up the pen and signed his contract.

   Casey picked up the document and quickly scanned the area in question, making sure of what he already knew.  It was there.  Everything appeared in good order.  When offered the pen, Casey quickly took it and applied his own signature and date.

   Gathering up the documents and tapping them against the desk to even out the pages, Damien looked pleased.  “Gentlemen, you won’t be disappointed.  And, the timing couldn’t be better.  We’ve got another contract lined up, and our employer should be here in a couple more days to work out the details.”  To Nimaj, he said, “You might want to hurry up the trials for manning the Awesome.  I hear you’re still in the running.”

   “I am,” Nimaj said with pride.  “But, it’s only to maintain my skills as a MechWarrior.  I will defer the position to one of the other contestants.” Nimaj looked at Casey and Al.  “Only when I’m the last dispossessed warrior in the Legion will I take to the cockpit once more.”

   “No man left behind,” Casey said.  “By the way, what’s the deal with the two Clan women?  Why aren’t they part of the tribe, yet?”

   “They are under probation.  We don’t induct them for a year.  This gives us time to confirm their identity and intentions.  It also gives us time to figure out how to handle any spies we might find.”

   “I doubt those two are Watch,” Al said, idly.

   “The Clan intelligence arm?” Damien said, perking up.

   “That’s what I heard it called,” Al said.  “I may be wrong.”

   Damien didn’t press the issue.  His eyes didn’t leave Al for many seconds when he said, “Well, gentlemen.  Welcome to the company.”

[Daemion]

Thus ends Chapter 4.

RTF file attached.  PDFs upon request.

[Daemion]

I'm surprised nobody called me out on the dates for Chapter 2 and 3.  (It's almost as if nobody cares...  xp)

I went through and corrected them above.

I'm reattaching RTF files, for the corrected chapters, plus the prologue and chapter one, here.

Let me know how I'm driving.  Questions? Comments? I have answers.

Otherwise, enjoy.

[DOC_Agren]

I'll be honest I don't always catch the dates if the story good

[Daemion]

That's okay.

I'm going to take a break from this one for a week or two.  I'm having to re-envision the next part, anyway.  But, I also had a sudden brainstorm that I need to work on -now!- while it's fresh.

Depending on how it's received, you might see it here. Or not.

I'm assuming that the lack of replies, but the growing view-count means that people are reading and generally enjoying it. I will be back to this soon. 

[Daemion]

And, I'm back at it. 

For those wondering, I made an edit to this part of Chapter 4. 

Attached is the updated RTF for the chapter, with the changed area highlighted.

When I got my breakthrough for Chapter 5, I realized this would be important later on.

For anyone who starts reading the full story after this post's date, you'll have read the changed version.  If you want to see the differences, I'm leaving the old Chapter 4 in its last post.

Now, on to Chapter 5, which will be broken up into pieces. 

[Daemion]

Chapter 5

Stum’s Bar
Cross Road’s Oasis
Astrokaszy
15 September 3057



   Cyprus 'Kip' Jones strolled from the pod pit to join Al, Casey and Nimaj Jr in the bar above.  He didn't look at all concerned about the fact that he had lost the honor duel in the simulators.  According to Jones's conditions, his life was now in Al's hands.  But, he didn't have to worry.  Al had no intention cashing in on this prize of his prize.  After all, inasmuch as Jones did not like Al, he was the only other survivor of the Dragon's Rose crash.

   “All right, Mister Jones,” Al said.  “You're free to go.  I hold no grudge against you.”

   Jones closed his good eye for a moment.  He muttered, “I thought so.  That's the second time I owe my life to you.”  Opening his eye, he stepped up to Al and laid a hand on his shoulder.  “And, now, Eli, for your real prize.” 

   Al quirked a brow at the specific name.  There was significance in his choosing to use the name the Captain of the Rose wanted him to have.   It wasn't spoken in irony or malice.

   Jones continued.  “I give you your life.  I suspect you don't know this, or you wouldn't have left the ship to sink into the desert sands.  When the captain made you part of the crew, you became part owner to that vessel.  She's your ship, Eli.”

   He dropped his hand and walked to the exit.  Before leaving, Jones paused and looked back. “You might want to get out there soon.  I went by this morning.  Some scavengers were picking through it.”  He reached into his pocket, and pulled out another cog. Tossing it to Al, he said, “What's in the cargo hold is now yours, as well.”

   Jones turned to face outside.  “My debt to you has been repaid. I doubt we'll ever see each other again.”

   With that, Jones exited the bar.

   “No, we probably won't,” Al said absently. He held up the cog, wondering what it might be used with or for.  Then the realization sank in.  He owned a DropShip.  His adventure was now truly about to begin.  Excited, he shot Casey and Nimaj a quick grin.



   Out at the crash site, Al, Casey, Nimaj and his retinue discovered the truth in Jones's words.  The ship's cargo doors were open to the world.  The graveyard had been completely exhumed, the bodies lined up in bags. 

   “This is how you arrived on Astrokaszy?” one of the nomads asked in awe. 

   The fact that neither Nimaj nor Casey seemed at all surprised spoke volumes to Al.  Not long after meeting Casey, Al had been followed back to the dropper after work on one occasion. Another time, Al had spotted the traces of hovercraft passage. So, they had some idea, but none had approached him about it.  Probably were expecting him to open up about it eventually.

   In time, he vowed internally.

   Near the airlock, a couple flatbed trucks sat motionless.  Next to them, connected to cable bundles extending from deep in the ship, sat a diagnostic station.  A man worked at the terminal, his back to the world. 

   A hand came to rest on his shoulder.  Al braced forcing his body to remain still.  Turning, he looked at the large Nimaj.

   “Want us to take care of this?”

   “Nah,” Al said.  “Let me handle it.”

   Al approached the man at the terminal undetected.  Once close enough, he spoke up.

   “Excuse me.”

   The technician whipped his head around, startled. The man was short, wiry and blond.

   “What are you doing with my ship?” Al asked.

   With wary blue eyes shielded by glasses, the tech studied Al, then the men in the distance.  “Your ship?”

   “My name's Alius Cad'ver.  I was a part of the Dragon's Rose crew.  That means I own her.”

   “Really?”  The tech turned confused.  Rubbing at his mustache, he muttered, “That doesn't sound right.”

   The tech turned toward the terminal and punched a few screens.  The holographic window flickered, displaying a few new screens before settling on one that looked very much like a dossier file.

   The technician looked at Al again.  Rubbing his hand across his yellow mustache with a snort, he shoved his spectacles higher on his nose before reaching out a hand. He held it there, waiting for Al to grasp it in greeting.  “Name's Morrow.  My crew is the Finn Recovery Firm.  Your Captain was part of a larger fleet.  Word came that the ship crashed, and we've been sent to recover the vessel.”

   Al reached out and shook Morrow's hand.

   “The other men.  Are they with you?”

   Looking back up the hill, Al waved for the rest to join him.

   “They're friends.  That one's Casey Putnam,” Al said, pointing out people as they approached. “The big one's Nimaj.  He's a leader of a local nomad tribe.  The other three are part of that tribe.  Haven't quite gotten to know them yet.”

   “All right, Mr. Cad'ver,” Morrow said.  “Let my people pack up, and we'll be out of your hair.  However...”

   “However...” Al prompted.

   “So, just what did you plan on doing with the ship?  She's not going anywhere.  You think you can fix her up?”

   Al nodded lightly.  This had been sort of what he had hoped for.  He voiced his thoughts aloud. “Not really.  I was thinking of selling her for parts, to be honest.”

   “Well, you're in luck.  Finn Recovery has been authorized to make reparations to any survivors.  I can give you a million C-bills for her.”

   Casey grabbed Al's shoulder and gave it a gentle tug.  Suppressing a wince, Al glanced at his friend and followed him aside.

   “Al, that's a rip-off,” Casey said, quietly.  “She's worth far more even in melt value.”

   “Well, who else will buy?” Al asked.  “Let's face it, anyone else who'd be interested would have to trek out here to retrieve her.  He's right.  She's not going anywhere, and I doubt even the Legion has the resources to move her, let alone rebuild her.”

   Casey deflated a little.  “Well, don't settle.  You should get more than a mere million c-notes for her.”

   Al nodded. Out of his pocket he fished Jones's gear and flipped it around in his fingers a moment.  Kip had bequeathed the contents of the holds to Al, whatever they might be. Casey saw and nodded appreciatively.

    Turning back to Morrow, Al said, “All right.  But, I also get to keep what's in the hold.”

   Morrow's blond brows shot up. He stared at Al for a moment while he thought. Turning aside, he shouted, “Miiiike!”

   From back along the hull, out of one of the open bay doors appeared a dark, shaggy maned head.  Morrow waved him over.  The tall man worked his way down the still-attached wing and across the sand before stopping next to Morrow.

   “Ah!  Visitors,” he said while walking across the sand.  Mike's eyes shot to the holo display before landing on Al.  “And, a survivor.”

   He held out his hand.  Al shook it.

   “I'm Mike Finn, owner of the Finn Recovery Firm.”  Turning to Morrow, he asked, “Did you tell him why we're here?” 

   Morrow nodded.  “And, did you offer him the compensation promised to survivors?”

   “He wants to keep the cargo,” Morrow said, getting straight to the point.

   Mr. Finn looked a little confused.  “He knows the cargo's not his, right?”

   Al displayed the cog to the two men.  “I believe it belonged to one Mister Jones.  He said I could have what was left.  You want the ship?  I'll take your offer, but I keep what's in those holds.”

   Morrow pulled Finn aside, and they talked in near whispers. Al's eyebrows shot up as he listened.  From what he could hear, they could make a better offer by giving Al his 'father's life insurance policy.  After a few muttered exchanges, Finn stepped up to the terminal and punched up a new window, showing it to Morrow before closing the file.  He looked Al over a moment, his eyes resting on the gun at Al's hip.

   “Is that what I think it is?” Finn asked with sudden interest.

   Al looked at the gun, then pulled it out after pocketing the gear. “1911 model forty five.”

   Mike's eyebrows shot up.  “That's ancient.  Don't make 'em like that anymore.  Does it work?"

   Al knew full well it did.  The question amused him, and he decided to have a little fun.  Undoing the safety, he chambered around.  He looked at Finn, letting the mischeif he felt cross his face. "Care to find out?"

   Finn stared at Al uneasily for a while. Then Al dropped his grip on the gun, letting it slide to dangle from his trigger finger as he held it out.  Finn gingerly took the hot weapon, looking it over with appreciation.  He settled his hand around the grip, finger in the trigger ring, and took aim at Al.

   Al felt his stomach twist with apprehension.  They wouldn't have to pay anyone anything if they simply shot any survivors.  Al could handle them.  His concern was for Casey and the others. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see one of Nimaj's guards with hand on his own holstered pistol.  Logically, he assumed the others were moving to similar stances, judging from the shifting sounds in the sand behind him.

   Without pausing Finn slowly shifted his aim to one of the crosses in the makeshift cemetery.  Grinning, he fired. The gun's report left ears ringing.  Mike and Morrow both winced, and rubbed at their ears a moment.  Casey and the Legionnaires did likewise.

   It took a few minutes before Finn spoke in a shout.  “We're here to retrieve the cargo as well. Throw in the gun, and I'll give you fifteen million.”

   “C-bills,” Al said.

   “C-bills,” Finn confirmed.

   That might actually be enough for what Al intended. 

   “It's a deal,” Al said.  Reaching into his left vest pocket, he produced some spare clips. “I won't be needing these.”

   Finn accepted the munitions peaceable astonishment. 

   “Mike,” Morrow said.  “There was one bin we couldn't open.”   

   Al immediately guessed they were talking about the gear.  He fished it back out and brandished it between fore and middle finger. 

   Both men eyed Al and the gear. 

   “That's the key we need,” Morrow said.

   “This will cost you extra,” Al stated.

   “What did you have in mind?” Finn asked.

   “How about that million cred survivor compensation on top of the 15 mil?”

   Finn chuckled and shook his head, amused.
   
   

   The rest of Finn's crew had gathered while the deal progressed.  Once it had finished, they all returned to work.  Shifting grip on the cred stick, Al shook Finn's hand one more time.  Turning to leave, he paused, looking at the bagged bodies.  He glanced sidelong at Finn. 

   “Take good care of them.  They were family.”

   Nodding somberly, Finn said, “They will be returned to their homes and given proper burials.”

   With a little too practiced an ease, Al suppressed the tears that threatened to well up behind his eyes.  Without another word, Al walked away, joining Casey and Nimaj at the Legion hover-jeeps. 

   “I still can't believe you managed sixteen million in C-bills,” Casey said, sounding impressed. “What was in those holds that would cost that much?”

   “Nothing,” Al said.

   Both Nimaj and Casey shot him surprised looks.  “I had a chance to look,” Al explained.  “If I had to guess, they were all rigged to hold 'Mechs.  Six of the eight were already open, and I found scaffolding and gantry work in each one.  The seventh was simple shipboard supplies and consumables which I could open with my crew pass.  Whatever was in that last hold probably didn't have any real value to Kip if he was leaving it behind, or giving it to me.  I doubt it's remotely worth fifteen million, or even half that.”

   Casey nodded, impressed. “Would hate to be in their shoes when they find out.”

   “They're not losing a dime,” Al said. 

   Casey looked surprised, again. 

   “Not only was I a part of the crew,” Al explained, “but, the captain had adopted me.  It seems he had a life insurance policy that got willed to me.  They just happened to be aware of that fact.”

   “So, it wasn't a real fleecing,” Casey said, shaking his head.

   “Nope,” Al said.  “Just making sure I got everything allotted to me.”

   “He adopted you?” Nimaj asked.  “Why?”

   “Can't say.  But, I have some ideas,” Al said.

   “Care to fill us in?” Casey asked

   Tears threatened to burst from behind his eyes again as the memories of being by Lee's side during his last breath came back.  It had been a few years since the crash, but even recalling the burial of each crewman still felt raw.  He could feel the everyone's eyes on him.  With a deep inhale to steady himself, Al finally answered.

   “For another time.”

   Nobody replied right away.  Instead, they all got in the jeeps and flew back to the cross roads. 

   “I don't know what you were planning to do with your sudden windfall,” Casey said once under way.  “But, how would you like to become a real MechWarrior?”

   Al looked at Casey and smirked.  “That was the idea.”

   Casey grinned.  “I know a guy in the Free Worlds who could hook you up.”

 

Dragon's Breath Desert
Neutral Territory
Astrokazsy
1 December 3057


   Al stared through his narrow cockpit canopy to see Casey's Griffin out onto the desert wastes of Astrokazsy.  The narrow viewport of the Warhammer didn't offer the best view.  As his Mech finished its activation sequences, a panoramic projection glowed right in front of Al's eyes on his neurohelmet visor, nearly obscuring his view.  Not only did it project the 360-degree world in a compressed into his field of vision, but it also showed him and his cockpit controls with clarity as well.

   The armor diagram was stylized to match a Warhammer's outline.  Al knew that his 'Mech  looked like a stock -6R model right from the simulators.  That had been intentional, since it was one of his favorite designs.  But, a glance at his weapons list showed the pair of small lasers in place of machine guns.  A lot of weight had been saved to thicken armor plates all over.  It was a Frankenstein's monster, cobbled together from a bunch of different Warhammer frames.  Everyone was surprised at what Al wanted, but the salvage firm was able to meet Al's demanding specifications.  To the technician who assembled it, now hired on as Al's permanent mechanic, it was a masterpiece.

   “All right, Al,” Casey said, sounding like he was right in Al's ear.  “This isn't the simulators.  Time to get you used to the real thing.”

[Daemion]

Another Man's Treasure



Technology Transfer Research Facility
Gatchina
Free Worlds League
26 June 3059


   It was a slightly overcast day, the clouds thin but high, white with the back-lighting of Gatchina's sun.  The rolling hills of the countryside were brown as the region's winter worked its way toward spring.  On one horizon lay a facility made up of a selection of square buildings in typical white paint.  And, out of the biggest rose a half-jet, half-mech with a pair of rectangular pods on its back. 

   From his current position on a hill nearly half a kilometer away, Casey recognized a Phoenix Hawk LAM.  It turned and jetted in his direction.  After triggering firing solutions for his PPC and LRMs, Casey took a quick survey of the battle raging around him.  Two of the pirate Mechs were of Clan design.  One had already been demolished by three PPC hits from Darran in the salvaged Awesome.  The opening blast was impressive, the Puma getting all three beams straight down the nose, coring the machine.  It lay to Casey's immediate left, motionless except for the cockpit canopy, its pilot working to get out.

   Still to Casey's left, up a steeper hill, Al ran his Warhammer a little warm.  Hugging the hilltop, the dark-blue Mech weathered fire from a Mad Cat while giving better in return.  His fire was supplemented by missiles from the now functional -3L Crusader, piloted by Jenn.  Gauss and missile fire from Damien's Highlander, sixty-some meters in front of Casey, staggered the iconic Clan Mech.

   Two other pirate Mechs, a Whitworth and a Trebuchet, hung back, offering missile support, being ignored for the moment.

   Casey looked back at the LAM in time for his weapons to fire.  Disappointingly, the results were mixed.  Some LRMs managed light hits along a wing, but the slight side-slip on the target's part made the PPC's caress across it's side and arm ineffectual.  Then his Griffin jinked left and right, spreading out the AirMech's large and medium laser return shots.  The damage did no more than slightly lighten his armor diagram's green outline.

   Suddenly, a DropShip appeared on Casey's sensors, high and from behind.  It was immediately tagged with a friendly icon. 

   “So, our partners are finally making an appearance,” he commented.  He let sarcasm drip into his voice.  “Why so soon, I wonder?” 

   When the partners hadn't deployed alongside, he had suspected they were using Damien and his mercs as cannon fodder, only to sweep in and mop up.  But, now it looked like the small force was doing very well with one enemy down and another about to fall.  The other team would need to make some sort of appearance to claim part of the victory.

   Smiling, Casey followed the LAM's trajectory, quickly lining up another firing solution.

   A familiar, trivid-star quality male voice spoke over broadband.  “To the pirate forces defending the facility.  We are reinforcing the 'Mechs pitted against you.”  Four Mechs stepped out of the DropShip, two on either side.  Stepping off, they started their drop to the field as the ship flew past.  “You are outnumbered.  Surrender now, and you will be treated honorably.”

   Only a couple seconds passed before a man's voice, nasal and gravelly, answered in one of the many accents found in the Free Worlds League. 
“Standing down.  We do have conditions for our surrender, though.”

* * *




   Inside the main facility building, Damien's mercs had taken a meeting room to lounge in while the heads of each force discussed the details of the surrender.  Darran and Jenn had volunteered to stay mounted, on guard, during the proceedings.  Support personnel had been shipped in to begin repairs.  This left Al, Casey, Miko, and one Perigrine Wolf to stare at the décor, offering minor, intermittent speculation on what was actually going down.

   The room, itself was not much to look at.  White plastic folding chairs complimented a white plastic folding table.  All amid a box of white walls and gray carpet.  A whiteboard hung on the wall opposite the windows, next to the sole metal door to the room.

   Miko stood next to the door, peering through the small square window on occasion.  Al sat at the table near the windows, looking outside, deep in thought.  Casey sat across from him, arms crossed, eyeing Miss Perry. 

   The young Clanner woman looked relaxed.  Seated next to Al, her boots were up on the table.  She leaned back in the chair, showing the tan skin of her legs not covered by her very short shorts.  The chair was in contact with the wall behind her, keeping her from falling backward.  But, in spite of her relaxed posture, she looked very bored, as indicated by the way she looked around, making an idle comment every few minutes.

   Casey wondered why she was with them on this mission.  Granted, Javier was along, too, even though his Firestarter was hung up in a hangar back on Astrokaszy.  Still, Casey suspected the Spaniard  had a purpose outside his BattleMech. 

   Miko moved away from the door, catching everyone's attention.  Seconds later, Damien entered the room with a wide grin.  Javier followed, his focus on a datapad.  With only a cursory glance around, Jav took the closest seat to the door.  Damien stood at the end of the table.

   “So, what's going on?” Casey asked.  “What happened?  And, what's Jav looking at?”

   Clapping his hands and rubbing them, Damien looked around with an excited glint in his eyes.  This prompted Perry to drop her feat to the floor.  All eyes and ears, save Javier's, were on him.

   “If you haven't guessed already, this facility is a research facility.”

   “For LAMs,” Al commented, pronouncing the acronym as the word 'lamb'.

   “For LAMs,” Damien echoed.  “As you know from our briefing nearly a month ago, the people who hired us had gotten wind of an impending raid.  Our mission was to protect the facility from the raiders.  Our preparation was somehow leaked, and the raiders upped their schedule.”  He looked around at everyone present.

   “The people we fought are fellow mercs.  Camilla’s Curators happen to be tech hunters.  They have no bounties on them.  I’ve already checked.  They work the system and pick contracts where they suspect they can carry away rare technology.  To their chagrin, the place was hastily ransacked by its own employees before they arrived.  The hard drives had been wiped of sensitive information.” 

   Damien glanced down momentarily.  “Since we have no bounty to operate from, we will be letting them go.  They won’t get to keep the Phoenix Hawk LAM.  Neither will we.  In fact, our deal with our partners means we net no salvage, whatsoever.”

   Casey saw the excited glint in his eye return when he leaned in.  “But, guess what.  This was a research facility.”

   “For LAMs,” Al said, pronouncing the acronym as ‘lamb’.

   “For LAMs,” Damien echoed.  “We believe that the people behind this wouldn’t be so foolish as to not have back-up files stored somewhere off-sight.  They had to do it in a rush.  There were non-vital things still left lying around, like personal logs.”

   Damien clapped Javier on the shoulder.  “Jav is my code-breaker.  He spotted something in a journal entry, and is going through it now.  He thinks the off-site hiding spot is nearby.  If he's right, there might be able to locate it.”

   “So, you’re thinking we can find the data and sneak some copies of blueprints?”  Al asked. 

   “Something of a little treasure hunt,” Damien said.  “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.  We could definitely use some sort of bonus.”

   Casey approved of the sentiment.  They would only making copies of any data they may potentially find.  He offered, “Maybe some extra eyes can help.”

   “I have this,” Jav mumbled, distracted.

   “He's the code-breaker,” Damien said.

   “Okay.  Then, why is Perry here?”

   “She's my Clan expert,” Damien said, unabashed.  “She's not in trial for a 'Mech with the Legion, and as much as you've experienced with the Invasion, she's an insider.  Nice to have someone to recognize others of her kind.”

   “And, our 'partners' are ex-Clan,” Perry said, idly.

   “Wait.  Really?” Casey asked, surprised.  “I had suspected, since they sound like you and Al, but the contractions made me think they're Terran.”

   Perry seemed to come alive.  Standing, she said, “Come with me.  I will show you.”

   Damien got out of the way, letting Perry, Al and Casey through.

[Daemion]

Chapter 5, continued -


   She took them outside.  Not far from the exit, they could see the landed DropShip the supposed Clanners had arrived in.  Two of their 'Mechs were on guard duty as well.  One was inspired by the Clans, but Casey recognized the cutting edge Federated Commonwealth 'Mech he had seen in news holos.  The second one was alien to him.  It was either cutting edge, or of Clan origin.

   “Bushwhacker, and a Naga.” Al mused.  “I think I recall seeing a Stalker, a Catapult and a MadCat out on the field when they dropped in, too.  If I'm not mistaken, the dropper looks like a Clan Broadsword, which has room for a fifth 'Mech. 

   Casey looked over at Al, impressed with his knowledge.  He caught the same curious, approving look on Perry's face as well.  Focusing on Al, he asked, “What's a Naga?”

   “Clan second-line artillery 'Mech.  Carries Arrow Four artillery missiles.  It's probably safe to assume that the Bushwhacker has been outfitted with TAG to take advantage of homing rounds.”

   Casey shook his head.  “Those aren't in the sims.”

   “No, they're not,” Al ceded.

   “Then, how do you know?” Perry asked.

   And, not for the first time.  Ever since Al mentioned knowledge of the Clans and their equipment and some of their procedures and history, Perry would actively prompt tidbits of information out of him, or sit and listen when Al let something drop.  Each time, she would ask that question.  It had other people thinking or asking the same thing on occasion.  He claimed to be merely Terran, or from Earth.  But, Casey couldn't help wonder if he wasn't from one of the Clans. 

   “Too soon,” Al said, flashing Perry an amused smirk.

   Perry pouted.  Looking around, she pointed to a couple of the other team's MechWarriors.  A trio were standing around talking among each other and some of their technicians. 

   “Well, unlike you, I can tell they are Clan based on the terms they throw around when they think nobody is listening.  They may be out of lower castes, which would explain the contractions.  But, there is no mistaking some of the military verbage we Clan warriors grew up using.”

   “You can take the boy out of the farm, but not the farm out of the boy,” Al said.

   Perry glanced at him with a smile.  “Or the Clan out of the warrior,” she added.

   She waved for Casey and Al to hang back, while she casually strode up to the group in question.  Nobody seemed to notice her until she started talking.  Perry spoke loud enough for Casey and Al to hear over the distance.

   “It must be nice to fool those simple Sphereoids, quiaff?” she said.

   The tall guy who had his back turned to her started to answer, “Neg,” but tried to turn it into a question at the last minute.  The rest of the group stiffened and became more alert.  Turning to address her directly, Casey recognized the head of the group from the mission briefing many weeks back, on Astrokaszy.  He was a tall guy, moderate build, with dark hair and a short, trimmed beard.  His voice was the same one heard from the battle not but an hour ago.  “That's how one responds to that kind of question, I believe.  Is that right?”

   Before the conversation could carry on any further, a shorter man with a similar hair cut, but brown, interrupted the commander. 

   “Jones,” he said, his voice deep and rich. 

   Jones looked at his subordinate. 

   “Let me handle this,” the shorter man said.

   Jones nodded.  With a short, “All right, everybody! Back to work,” he dispersed the group, leaving Casey, Al and Perry with the new guy.

   “So,” the new guy said, amicably.  “You think we're Clan?” he asked Perry.

   “And, you are?” Casey asked.

   “I'm Endri.”

   “That's it?” Casey pressed.  “Just 'Endri'?  I'm Casey Putnam.  He's Alius Cad'ver.  She's Perigrine.  Of Clan Wolf.”

   Endri's eyebrows shot up.  “So, you're clan,” he said to Perry.

   “Ex-Clan,” she corrected.  “I am not with the Wolf, anymore.”

   Endri tried to keep his amicable facade.  However, Casey spotted the temporary mask, the guarded look, when the shorter man reacted to Perry's response.  It came and went in all of a second, showing Endri's strong self-control.  Casey took that as one more piece of evidence in favor of Perry's claim.

   “And, you think we're Clan, do you?” Endri asked.

   A glint flashed in Perry's eye, her face of someone not fooled, she said, “Oh!  You think you have us with the contractions, but I've heard you bandying our terminology around on occasion.  You use it with practiced familiarity.  So, dropped the act.”

   Endri was a blank, unreadable wall for a couple seconds.  Then he deflected with a question, which made Casey start to quirk a brow.  He shot a glance at Al, who looked back with a knowing smirk.

   “The Wolf is no more,” Endri said, sounding curious.  “How did one like you end up clear out here?”

   Casey watched as Perry acted much like the Wolf her old Clan was named after.  If she had hackles, he imagined he could see them rising as she glared at Endri.  Crossing her arms, she scoffed, “I prefer not to talk about it.”

   “Refusal War?”  Al asked out of the blue.  “Between Falcon and Wolf.”

   Both Perry and Endri shot guarded looks in Al's direction. 

   “It's been a couple years since that resolved,” Al continued, musing aloud.  “You might want to check back with your exiled counterparts.  Vlad Ward should have restored the Clan Wolf under the Crusaders by now, I think.  If not yet, he will, soon.”

   He smirked and glanced at Perry and Endri.  “That was a punk move Chistu pulled.  No honor.  Vlad will have his head.”  Looking to the horizon, Al added.  “Of your Clan Khans, I think Kerensky was one of the best.  Would be nice to meet him, someday.”

   Casey watched as both Perry and Endri slowly changed from guarded to wonder.  The last statement then left them looking confused.

   “What do you mean by 'meet him someday'?” Perry asked.  “He died in that ambush.”

   Al looked at her and smirked, though his face had a hint of sadness on it.  “Did I say that aloud?  Something for another time.”

   Al nodded toward the facility.  Casey looked to see Damien and Miko marching toward them.  Damien didn’t wait when he reached them.  He handed over a data pad, which Al took and perused while their commander spoke.

   “We have a few leads.  I want you to take Miko in your personal car and scout them out.”

   “May I tag along?” Casey asked. 

   Damien considered for a few seconds, then nodded.  “Sure.”

   “May I go, too?” Perry asked courteously. 

   Damien didn’t bother to think on this one, automatically saying,  “Go ahead.  More eyes, the better.  I leave discretion to Al, though.  It’s his car, after all.”

   “I have no problem with it,” Al said idly.  He handed the pad to Casey.

   Casey noted Perry’s gleeful grin with a touch of annoyance.  He plucked the pad from Al’s grip a little to testily in his agitation.  Without a comment, he tried to ignore the situation by looking at the names and addresses before him.  He had to pause and look up when one more request came for a ride-along.

   “Would there be room for one more?” Endri asked. 

   All eyes turned toward him.  “Call it professional curiosity.  The data you specifically asked for looks too mundane and personal to have anything important in it.  If you think you’ve found something, I’d like to see the end results.”

   Damien was neutral while he eyed Endri a moment.  After a while, he said.  “I leave that to Al.  However, you’ve already got what you wanted out of the deal.  Clan salvage.  What we find is ours to keep.”

   “Understood,” Endri said.

   Damien nodded, a suspicious look on his face.

   “So, what are we looking for?” Al asked.  “This list wasn’t very intuitive to read.  I see addresses and names.  The addresses I get.  Names I can guess, but I’d like a clearer picture.”

   Damien nodded.  “There was a name that kept coming up in the journal.  The Virginia Farm.  Jav suspected it was a codename.  The Virgin Mary.  Mary had a little lamb.”   

   Casey nodded, echoing ‘lamb’, the way Al and Damien pronounced the LAM acronym. 

   Damien waited for people to finish getting the joke.  “The addresses are farmsteads in the region.  The names are from the journal, people associated with the farm.  You’ll notice none of them have the surname ‘Virginia’.  You may have to do some asking around to get any leads if the farmsteads don’t pay off.  You have a limited window.  Our client will be sending relief forces to take over in a couple days. ”

   “Got it,” Al said.  Looking at Miko, he said, “I’m thinking we do a visual survey of each farm before we get into sleuthing among the locals.”
   


   Inside the bay of the DropShip dedicated to Damien’s mercs, Al yanked the tarp off his car.  It was a vintage model DeLorean hovercraft, styled after a similar car in an old movie series.  This model took some liberties with the construction.  The wheels didn’t actually push the car along, instead free-rolling, simply acting as landing gear.  When it took off, they folded sideways, like in the holovids.  The car was boxy and ungainly looking, but Al seemed to love it.

   It also wasn’t very big.

   “The DeLorean’s not a real luxury car.  She can fit five, but it’ll be snug for the people in the back.”  Al looked at Endri.  “I don’t mind you tagging along, but it won’t be comfortable if you have joint problems.  With such a large search area, this could take a while.”

   Endri studied the vehicle with no hint of emotion.  “I think I will be fine.”

   “Okay.  Short people in the back.  Sorry, Miko, that includes you.”

   “I understand,” she said with a graceful smile.”

   Everyone piled in, Perry in the middle in the back seat.  Casey got in the passenger side, navigating under the gull-wing door with practiced ease.  He had ridden with Al in the vehicle on a number of occasions.  Once the doors were shut, Al buckled in and deftly triggered the start-up switch.  Once active, the DeLorean rose on a cushion of air and coasted gently out of the dropper, out onto the tarmac, and into the Gatchina countryside.

* * *

[Daemion]

Chapter 5, continued -

Park Property Border
Gatchina
Free Worlds League
26 June 3059


   The countryside around the facility was mostly upland, interrupted by hilly, wooded stream cuts.  The level, mild hills were occupied by sprawling crop fields littered with the remains of last year's harvest.  Even though the temperatures were mild, Casey spotted small pockets of snow in shaded places hidden from the sun. 

   The roads they traveled on were well-maintained gravel.  That was the only sign of civilization.  There were hardly any houses or other signs of human activity.  Looking at the map on the datapad, Casey could see that the farmsteads they were scouting were very far apart.  They were getting close to one.  He let Al know about the upcoming left turn.

   Al found it, slowed down, and came to a sudden stop once around the corner.  Unseen from their direction by a slight berm was a gatehouse with a crossbar down.  Two soldiers in a uniform Casey didn't recognize occupied the little guard building.  Both stood and came out, hefting rifles.

   One kept his rifle across his chest, parade ready, eyes wary.  The other shouldered his rifle and came to Al's driver window on the left of the vehicle.  Al rolled down his window with the press of a button.  The soldier was a middle-aged man with brown skin and a ruddy beard.  He had more of the Asiatic characteristics common in the Free Worlds, compared to Casey's African lineage.  The man's red hair suggested some European in the line, somewhere.  He eyed everyone in the car with golden eyes, his face unreadable.

   “We received no word of someone coming through our gate today,” he said once done scanning the car's occupants.  “Do you have papers for border passage?”

   “Actually,” Al said, “I think we're lost.  We're looking for Virginia Farms.”

   A confused look passed over the soldier's face for a moment.  “I've never heard of it.”  He turned imperious.  This is Park land.  If you don't have official papers to be here, you must turn around and leave.”

   Casey watched Al perk up.  “Parkland?  Like a nature preserve?  Where can we go to sign up for a permit?”

   The soldier frowned.  “This is private property.  Turn around and leave.  Now!”

   Al gave a nod and  sat up straight.  Rolling up the window with a flick of a different switch, he put the car in reverse.  Watching the mirrors and looking over his shoulder on occasion, he backed the car away from the gate and back onto the road.  Casey watched as the soldier that interacted with them got on his personal comm.
   

   They drove about a kilometer down the road.  When they lost sight of the gatehouse, Al pulled over and asked to look at the map.

   “Do you think they have something to hide?” Endri asked.

   Miko was the first to answer.  “From his reaction, I doubt it.”

   Casey watched Al work down the road on the map.  He paused at a road going in the other direction.  Once he saw that, he handed the pad back to Casey.

   “It's hard to say,” Al said.  “It's possible.  But, I agree with Miko.  If they are hiding something, it has nothing to do with 'Virginia Farms'.  It could very much be a preserve with restricted access.”

   Putting the DeLorean back into gear, he started the car gliding down the road.  They came across more intersections turning left.  He slowed down at each one, and each time, they saw more gatehouses.   Finally, a few kilometers and about an hour later, they came across a road that went to the right.  Al turned down that road to find yet another gatehouse.  He came to a stop, and parked his car.

   This gatehouse was different.  It was old, and poorly maintained.  Nobody was around.  The bar was in place. 

   Al opened his door.  Before getting out, he said, “This might be a good time for people to stretch their legs.”

   Casey got out, and helped Miko out of the back.  Perry and Endri got out on Al's side.  Casey and Miko joined Al at the gate. 

   “Does that look familiar?” Al asked, pointing to a coat of arms on display in front of the guard house. 

   Once he pointed it out, Casey remembered seeing it on all the guardhouses they had passed on the way here. 

   “So, this is Park land, too?” Casey asked.

   “It appears so,” Miko said.  “Although, all the activity is on the other side of the road.  Shall we confirm that this is a dead-end?”

   “Not right now,” Al said.  He pointed at the padlock and chain securing the gate bar on its rising end.  “That looks new, which means it's probably checked frequently.  I'm not confident enough in my hover skills to hop this or the barbed-wire.” 

   Casey finally made mental note of the barbed-wire fencing he had seen on either side of the road at the edges of the fields.  He had taken the sight for granted until now, when it mattered.  Over a meter tall, there was no good way to get across without tearing clothes, or skin, or hover skirt.  The gate bar was the only way in.

   “Let's mark it for now, and come back once we confirm the status of the others,” Al suggested, sounding tired.

   “I concur,” Casey offered.

   “Sounds like a plan,” Miko concluded.

   “If I'm not mistaken, we should be coming across a town, soon.  Or, at least a major harvest hub.  Hopefully they'll have some sort of store.  I'm feeling hungry, so let's stop there for some food.”

   “How do you think that?” Casey asked. 

   “The huge silos should be a giveaway,” Al said, pointing down the road.

   Casey followed Al's gesture.  Far away, on the horizon, he could make out large steel silos towering over the trees like a cluster of castle turrets.


   The clouds thinned as they drove down the road, letting the sun shine through like a thin curtain.  The silos on the horizon started to shine like silver.  As the kilometers between the DeLorean and the town shrank, each intersection revealed more gatehouses.  The ones on the left were manned.  The ones on the right appeared unmanned for a while.  Then, they, too, started to have a guard presence.

   Al's hope was revealed to be true.  There were houses down at the feet of the silos.  Casey spotted a sign with a name suggesting a store.  And, the main road appeared to head straight into town.  However, at the edge of town, there was yet another gatehouse complete with guards, and even armored jeeps with pintle mounts.  Casey felt a tinge of frustration as a guard stepped out to greet them as Al coasted to a stop.

    The guard's Polynesian eyes scanned Al's car with open appreciation.  The man nodded his helmeted head a couple times.  Once Al's window was rolled down, the guy smiled, speaking in a relatively clean accent.

   “We got word of a car matching this description.  You must be the group looking for Virginia Farms.”

   “News travels fast,” Casey muttered quietly with raised eyebrows.

   “That's right,” Al answered openly.  “Is this the place we can sign up for passes into the park?”

   The guard looked confused.  “Park?” he asked.

   “Yeah,” Al said, then explained, “We were told this was parkland.”

   A light went on behind the guard's eyes, and he smiled.  “I see there was some miscommunication.  This land belongs to Baroness Emilia Park.”

   Al nodded, smiling at his mistake.  “The Park Barony,” he said.

   “Correct,” the guard said, rubbing his shaven chin.  “I hate to say it, but you folks came a long way for nothing.  There is no Virginia Farms on the Baroness's land.  If it exists, it's in another region.”

   “Well,” Al said.  “Before we turn back, is it possible to stop and grab a bite to eat and use the restroom?  We've been driving for a while, now.”

   The guard nodded, understanding.  “If you want to go into town, we'll have to perform a search of your car and persons.  'S' 'O' 'P' for random strangers.”

   Al turned to look at Casey and the other passengers.  “Well?”



   The search process had been relatively painless, though it added yet another half-hour of growing hunger.  In spite of the seasonal transition from winter, the air had been relatively mild, somewhere in the mid-thirties, or the mid-fifties Fahrenheit, according to Al.  Perry Wolf handled the temperatures and the mild breeze without comment, in spite of her shorts, which surprised Casey. 

   During the search, another guard had joined Nguyen with a tote that each person could empty their pockets into.  None of the guards were at all surprised when all but Perry revealed sidearms.  Perry didn't have anywhere to hide one.  Not even in her leather pilot's jacket. 

   “You understand that we will have to hold onto these while you're here,” the guard said after first Endri 'Jones' and Miko pulled theirs out.  Each gun was put into a separate tote and carried in after a person was done being searched.  Any other belongings they were free to pocket.

   Then came Al's turn.  Al carried a lot of things in his vest pockets.  Most items seemed innocuous, like pencils of various kinds, a mix of foreign currencies, a small pad of lined paper, and so on.  But, one item caught everyone's attention when he pulled it out.  It was a crimson silken pouch.  Al held the bag delicately in such a way as to reveal it held something large and heavy.

   “This is a very delicate item,” Al said.  “I think I better show it to you, instead of letting you pull it out.”

   The guard nodded, and Al opened the pouch.  He delicately pulled out a white silken cloth wrapped around the delicate object.  Holding the edge of the item in his left hand, he carefully unfolded the silken cloth.  Underneath was the largest ruby Casey had ever seen, embossed in a golden frame resembling a dragon's maw.

   Casey felt his eyes widen at the sight.  Even the guards looked surprised, mumbling something incomprehensible. 

   “Why do you carry something like this around with you?  It could get stolen,” the lead guard said. 

   “Because I don't trust anybody with it,” Al replied seriously.  “See, this isn't just some gemstone.  It's an experimental information storage device.  The person who gave it to me lives in his own little world, and fails to realize how dirty the world is.  The oil on our fingers can damage the pathways on the surface, destroying data.”  Al waggled his right hand in emphasis.  “The only way to hold it is with a specially clean cloth, like you see here, or on the golden frame.  The frame is a holographic interface which will display whatever you want.”

   Casey couldn't believe what he was hearing.  Terra was known for some extravagant application of tech, and this was a sure example.  Holotech and crystal memory weren't exactly new technologies, but they weren't very common, either.   Casey thought they were friends, and yet, this never came up until now.

   The guards looked even more impressed. 

   “How much does it have stored?” the lead guard asked.

   “Lots,” Al said, a hint of a smile on his lips.  “Movies, books, TV shows, you name it.”

   “Show me.”

   “Sure,” Al said.  “Anything in particular?”

   The guard eyed Al's sleek black laser pistol in the tub, then the DeLorean.  “You seem to be a man influenced by pop culture.  You choose.”

   Quirking a brow in a lopsided smirk, Al started touching the dragon's eyes and ears on the gold frame.  A deep, full male voice addressed Al, sounding very much how Casey imagined a dragon might sound if it were real and could talk.  It's eyes flashed red as it talked.

   “Please state your query,” it said.

   “From the twentieth century archives, play episode one of season one of Bay Watch,” Al stated loud and firm.

   “Processing,” the dragon voice answered.  “Item found.  Designate display size.”

   Al pondered a moment.  “Twenty four inches horizontal.  Match the rest of the display accordingly.

   “Acknowledged.  Say 'start' to begin playback.”

   “Start.”

   Above the ruby, the eyes projected a hologram that was only visible from two sides.  People moved to see a montage of scantily clad men and women, their names prominently displayed, running up and down a beach at sunset or sunrise, striking poses.  All of this to a catchy soundtrack which played from the device as clearly as the dragon voice that acted as an audio interface.

   “Pause playback,” Al said once the show's opening theme had ended.  He looked at the guards.  “You get the idea.  I don't trust anyone with this.  It's very precious to me, given by one of my closest friends.  I will not part with this.”

   Al manipulated the controls around the eyes, and the hologram vanished.  He shut the device down with a few more presses before wrapping it in its white cloth and inserting it back into the pouch.  Holding it up, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

   The guard took on a lazy look.  “We're not responsible if anything gets lost or stolen.”

   Al smirked good-naturedly while putting it back in his vest pocket.  He then retrieved the rest of the odds and ends he had emptied into the bin, leaving the laser.
   


   Casey stared at his newly minted pass.  It was a simple piece of paper with his photo on it, his name printed just below that, and some script letting anyone reading it know that this pass was temporary, and at which gate it was issued.  The main road they had traveled in on was an east-west road, and they were at the west gate.

   “As you can see, these passes are temporary,” the guard said.  His name tag said 'Nguyen', but Casey had confirmed with Mr. Nguyen that it was pronounced 'when'.  Nguyen continued without pause.  “If you want your guns back, and whatever belongings you decide to leave in our care,” he gave a pointed look at Al, “you will have to come to this gate to retrieve them.  You will not be allowed to leave by any other gate when you leave town.  But, as long as you are here, you can go anywhere in the city limits.  Is that clear?”

   Casey, Al, and the others chorused their understanding.

[Daemion]

Chapter 5, continued -

William's Junction
Gatchina
Free Worlds League
26 June 3059


   The  town was big enough.  The main road seemed to be where a lot of services and other businesses resided.  Behind them, amid decorative trees, residential houses stretched out for half a kilometer among neat, straight streets.  At one point, they crossed rail tracks leading to the silos which sat behind small store-houses, refueling stations for vehicles of all types, and the major store. 

   “Well, folks,” Al said, “we have our pick of local restaurants.  I saw a couple back the way we came.” 

   “They are probably only outfitted to handle local script,” Miko said from the back.  “The market looks like a chain store, so we will probably have better luck being able to make purchases there.”

   “She's right,” Casey agreed.  “Let's go to the store.”

   Al gave a wry smirk.  “Convenience store cuisine.  Great.”
   


   The convenience store had a name.  The Farmer's Market.  It was definitely big enough to service those who lived in town and anyone who came calling from the countryside.  But, it wasn't huge.  A quick query with the checkout clerk confirmed the store did accept C-Bills.  As Casey browsed around, he spotted pretty much anything a person might need.  It was just big enough to even have an active, open hot food deli.

   Casey felt his stomach growl quietly as the smells of breaded fried meats mingled with hot sandwiches and some soups.  Unable to decide right away, Casey deliberated a few minutes until finally settling on some fried chicken strips with some packets of barbecue sauce.  Then, he joined Al over at the drink coolers. 

   “Whatcha thinkin'?” Casey asked. 

   Al had a penchant for seeking out any local flavors to see if they were any good.  He already had a staple in the form of peach tea.  He reached in and grabbed a couple others.

   “The only thing I'm seeing is the Gatchinroot tea and the Hinaberry,” Al said.  “It'll be interesting to see if the Gatchinroot is anything like root beer or something else.”

   “Oh,” a woman said with open concern from the next door down.  “Gatchinroot is an acquired taste.  I wouldn't recommend it,” she added, her mild local accent barely understandable.

   Al blinked.  “Really.  Is it anything like tamarind?”

   The lady customer's confusion was readable on her Asian features.

   “It's a root found on Earth,” Al said, then hastily corrected, “I mean Terra.  South America.  It's bitter, but can taste pretty good when mixed with enough sugar.”  He put the Gotchinroot tea back and scooted down to the pops.  He picked out a Gotchinroot soda.

   “Is the Hinaberry any good?” Casey asked the helpful customer.

   Her friendly smile emphasized her middle age, exposing mild crows feet at the corners of her eyes.  “You should be okay with that one.”

   Casey nodded his thanks.  Reaching into the tea cooler, he picked out a bottle.  Like Al, he grabbed something recognizable, just in case.

   “You wouldn't know about Virginia Farms, by chance,” Al asked out of the blue. “We've been looking for the place, but nobody seems to know where it might be.”

   The customer's silky black eyebrows shot up for a moment.  “I can't say I heard of it,” she said, distracted while she visibly thought.  Shaking her head, she quickly took on a coy smile.  “Why would you want to find a farm of virgins?”

   A shot in the dark, and it missed.  “Well, the only virgin we'd be looking for would be Mary,” Casey quipped.  “You wouldn't happen to be a virgin, by chance?”

   He meant it as a joke, and thankfully, the lady took it as much.  Covering her mouth, she chortled, gracefully walking away.  The only answer he had expected.



   Casey and Al met the others at the vehicle.  Nobody had gotten back into the DeLorean, yet, but Perry was already munching lightly on her purchase.  Al hitched a thumb over his shoulder, indicating a nearby bench. 

   “We could eat here.  Or, I spotted a small public park just a couple blocks from here.”

   The others took their time pondering.  Before Casey could reply, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.  Turning he saw the lady customer that had talked with them in the store.

   “Your comment about Mary got me thinking,” she said to Casey.  “There is a,” she paused, looking for a word, “how do you say?  A nunnery?”

   “A convent,” Al offered.

   Casey glanced around to see everyone focused on the conversation.

   “A convent,” she said with certainty.  “It's not very far from here.”  To Casey she handed a small slip of paper.  Her tone turned coy.  “But, if virgins aren't your thing, there are other fruits to be had.”

   For once, Casey took notice of the woman, giving her a once over.  She was wrapped in something that looked locally traditional.  It emphasized her feminine form, which was pleasantly shapely.  If it weren't for their limited pass in town, he might have checked out the offer.  He just didn't have time to really come calling.  He checked the missive, finding what looked like a local phone number.

   “I'm sorry,” Casey said, handing the paper back to her.  “Once we leave this town, we won't be coming back.”

   She looked mildly disappointed, but briefly perked back up when she eyed Al.  “And your friend?”

   “Same boat, ma'am,” Al answered.  “Besides, I don't do casual coitus.”

   Her eyebrows shot up, and a mischievous look adorned her Asian features.  “Oh!  You're saving yourself.  Perhaps for one of these two lovely maidens?”

   Casey felt growing tension from both Miko and Perry.  Perry openly paid close attention to Al.  Miko, on the other hand, was looking a little too intently at the datapad, her fingers not moving. 

   “No,” Al said almost reflexively.  He made a minor conciliatory waggle of his head.  “Maybe if God wills it, then sure.  But, as it stands, not really.”

   Miko seemed to come alive again, glancing at Al briefly before returning her attention to the datapad.  She was searching for the convent, Casey guessed.  Perry, on the other hand, seemed to turn unreadable.  Endri also took notice of her change in demeanor, looking at her pointedly.  For a moment, the thought that Perry might have had crush on Al flitted through Casey's mind.  Al's comment certainly shocked her, probably nipping any romantic intentions in the bud.  Casey was partly impressed with what Al did.  On the other hand, he didn't know what to make of knowing the Clanner's feelings.  He decided to ignore his fresh insight.

   “Interesting,” the lady customer said.  Casey turned just in time to see intent curiosity written all over her features.  That quickly disappeared with the return of her coy smirk.  “Well.  I hope I was help to you in your search.  Good day to you all.”

   With that, she turned and walked back toward the store. 

   Casey watched her a few seconds longer before turning back to the group. 

   “You won't believe where the convent is,” Miko said, holding up the datapad.
    

[Daemion]

Chapter 5, continued -

Mary – Cause of Our Joy Abbey
Gatchina
Free Worlds League
26 June 3059


   Casey stared through the windshield out at the very first unmanned gate they had turned into merely an hour before.  The sun was well on its way to the horizon, casting longer shadows than before.  He looked over at Al, who put the DeLorean into park.

   “How far is the convent from here?” Al asked, looking over his shoulder at Miko.

   “Over a kilometer,” she replied.

   Past the gate, the gravel road went downhill the up over another.  Fields occupied the hilltops while trees filled in hollows as close as the next hill over.  Far beyond, Casey thought he could see a portion of a building.

   “Well, we have a couple options,” Al offered.  “We hoof it, or we pick the lock and drive in unannounced.”

   “As a religious organization, I'm surprised their gate's even closed,” Casey mused.

   “It appears they had to close down a few years ago,” Miko said.

   “Let me guess, about the same time as the Technology Transfer facility went up?” Casey asked, ironically.

   “It appears so,” Miko mocked surprise.

   “It'll be dark soon,” Endri commented.  “It will be dangerous walking that far.”

   “Agreed,” Miko said.

   “Any of you good at lock-picking?” Al asked.

   Both shook their heads.

   “Okay,” Al conceded.  “Be right back.”

   Popping the gull-wing door, Al climbed out of his car and went up to the gate bar end with the padlock.  Casey watched him look around, gaze lingering on the gatehouse.  When Al bent down to mess with the pad-lock, he obscured Casey's view of his activity.  That left Casey studying the gatehouse, wondering what caught Al's attention for long seconds. 

   It was then he noticed the camera.  It was angled well enough to see both the hovercar and the gate.  Casey studied the camera, which showed no signs of power.  He then tried to catch a look inside the clear, expansive windows.  Nothing showed signs of power from Casey's vantage. 

   Still, he felt a touch of anxiety.  If, by chance, the camera was recording, it wouldn't take much to identify who broke past the gate and onto private property.  That could have legal ramifications.     But, this was the place.  It had to be.  The timing of the convent's closing and the establishment of the LAM research facility was too convenient to be mere coincidence.  There was something there.  He could feel it.

   “What was the convent's name?” he asked.

   “Mary, Cause of Our Joy, Abbey,” Miko answered.

   “Mary had a little lamb,” Casey mused aloud.  “Virginia Farms.” 

   Al opened the gate, latching it on it's open post before trotting back to the DeLorean.  Once in, he put it into gear, coasted it through, before parking just past the gate bar.  Then he hopped back out, closed the gate behind them.

   A prudent move, Casey reflected.  People were probably used to seeing it closed.  A mere passer's-by would easily notice and sound the alarm.  Something they didn't want. 

   As Al walked back, Casey watched him cast yet another lingering glance at the gatehouse and the camera before plopping down in the driver's seat.  With a confident smirk, Al buckled in and started the car flying down the road.



   The convent could almost have passed for any other farmstead.   The only real difference was the main housing complex, which matched every small two-story hotel Casey had ever seen or stayed in.  There were a couple large barns, some fallow garden plots, and many other sheds scattered over a couple acres. 

   It had a creepy feeling to it by the lack of human occupation.  The windows were dark, showing empty rooms where Casey had a good vantage.  The rest of the place looked unkempt, the lawn unkempt and overgrown with weeds, husks brown from winter dormancy.  A Gatchina deer equivalent sprang up and raced toward the trees when the DeLorean came to a rest in the circle drive.

   Once everyone poured out, Miko gave the standing orders.  “Let’s spread out and see what we can find.  It’s best we go in pairs.  Al, I trust you can take care of yourself.”

   Nodding, Al said, “Sure.  I’ll go check the far barn first.  Meet back here?”

   “Yes.”

   “If it doesn’t bother anyone, I’d like to pair up with Perry,” Endri said.

   “Fair enough,” Miko said.  She glanced at Casey.  “That means you’re with me.”



   Casey and Miko took the dorm building while Endri and Perry took the different sheds.  It was still unnerving to find the door unlocked.  Even more when every single room was completely empty.  Even the communal kitchen didn’t have a single dish left in the cupboards.  The windows weren’t broken, not yet.  But, if nobody came in here to check on things, that could change with time.

   The local sun crept ever closer to the horizon, casting longer shadows, and changing the hue on everything by the time Casey met Miko outside.

   “It was completely empty,” he said.  “Did you find anything?”

   Miko shook her head.  “Nothing.  Not even signs for a secret level.  Whatever they did here, it’s not in here.”  She looked around.  “I’m gonna check on Al.  Care to keep an eye on our Clanners?”

   Casey saw the two already waiting at Al’s car.  He honestly didn’t want to be around them.  He still held too much of a grudge for what happened during the invasion.  Then, his paranoia kicked in.  Best to keep enemies closer than friends, as the saying went.

   “Sure.”

   Miko trotted off to the barns, while Casey waltzed to the parked hovercar.  He could feel the awkward silence long before he arrived.  They stood at opposite corners on one side.  Perry was lost in thought, while Endri looked at her with open worry. 

   So, even Clanners had feelings, Casey mused.  For all their talk of being more than human, they were still ultimately full of emotion as any normal person.  He decided to put that thought aside and keep things platonic.

   “Did you find anything?” he asked.

   “No,” Endri responded.  “The sheds are all empty. No signs of hidden basements or anything of that sort.”

   Perry seemed to come alive.  “But, there are signs of recent activity.”  She pointed to heavy tire tracks that led from the drive to one of the barns, leaving a wake of flattened weeds and grass.

   “I hadn’t noticed this before,” Casey mused.

   “Neither did I, until now,” Perry stated.

   “Should we check it out?” Casey asked.

   Perry’s vision went distant again.  “I saw Al go in already.”

   “Well, I’m not leaving either of you alone,” Casey said, adamant.  “Either we all go, or we all stay.”

   Perry didn’t answer, looking to the ground, deep in thought again.

   With a sigh, Casey went up to the other side of the DeLorean to lean against the hood.  After a minute, Endri sauntered over to lean beside him.  Casey glanced at the shorter merc, who looked back, obviously wanting to say something.

   Casey quirked a brow, crossing his arms.  “What?”

   Endri hesitated, casting a wary look at Perry.  Quietly, he asked, “How long has Perry been with your group?”

   Casey wanted to laugh.  Apparently, Endri was more than concerned for Perry.  He seemed interested in her.  How much and why was still unknown to Casey, and he honestly didn’t care.  Even though he stifled the urge to laugh, it left him in good enough mood to answer openly.  A small devil on his shoulder even suggested that Endri might try to take her with him.

   “Not long.  She and Down were discovered by the Legion about the same time Al and I were inducted into Damien’s group.”

   “The Legion?”

   “Yeah,” Casey said.  “They’re a group of nomads back on Astrokazsy.  Dispossessed.  They have a working relationship with Damien, providing us a home and security while promising to let them pilot any salvage we bring back.”  Casey held off on telling him about the company’s salvage clauses, allowing individual warriors to keep what they killed, once it was confirmed.  Word of that getting out was risky.  It could draw all kinds of unsavory characters.  “It hasn’t been a full year yet,” Casey added.  “She’s still in probation with the Legion, not allowed to test for an empty slot until that year is up.”

   “Interesting,” Endri muttered, thinking. 

   He was about to say more, but Al appeared at the entrance to the barn at the end of the tracks.  Casey stood up and started walking over, worry knotting his gut when he saw Miko in his arms.  Endri also noticed, standing erect.  They were soon joined by Perry, a grim look on her face.

   Al hustled over to them.  “Casey, we have a problem,” he said, once close enough.

   “What did you do?” Perry demanded.

   “Nothing,” Al replied, casually, sounding oblivious to her hidden accusation.  “And, if I had, what would you do about it?”

   Casey could tell that Al didn’t mean anything by that statement, the way he tossed it out.  However, the fight with Down came rushing back to him, along with what he saw on the security footage from their trial run.  His hackles rose. 

   “If you have -,” Endri growled.

   Perry put up a restraining arm.  She looked at him blankly, and told him flatly, “You would try, and you would fail.”

   Casey couldn’t appreciate the reaction warring across Endri’s face, because he felt the same.  He had known Al for a couple years, now.   Confident enough in Al’s character, Casey was sure his friend wouldn’t harm someone if he could help it, especially colleagues. 

   Still, Al’s physical enhancement had only come out a few months ago.  And, today, Al had revealed a very expensive piece of tech, but only be necessity.  If nobody had asked, Casey wondered if Al would have brought it up.  But, then, Casey had his own secrets yet to reveal.

   Looking at Miko’s unconscious form cradled in Al’s arms, Casey felt a twinge of guilt at what he saw.  Here was an honesty that spoke loudly of Al’s trust in the people around him.  He looked at Endri and said, “Logically, Endri, do you think he would have brought Miko out like this if he had something to hide?”

   “He could have left her to be found and feign surprise,” Endri admitted. 

   Saying it seemed to set the Clanner at ease.

   Taking a breath to calm himself, Casey asked, “What happened?”

   With an excited smirk, Al said, “I found something.”  He continued to move to the passenger side of the car.  “Help?”

   Casey quickly caught up and triggered the door release.  Al gently set Miko down in the passenger’s seat.  All the while, he spoke.

   “You see the tracks leading to the barn?”

   “Yeah,” Casey answered.  “Just noticed them before you came out.”

   “Well, I followed them.  Noticed an electric junction with wires leading into the floor along the wall.  I followed them.  Found a door leading down some stairs into a really big basement.  Looked like it might be big enough for a Mech.  I was busy trying to find a light switch when Miko came in and fell over the side of the gantry I was on.  Thankfully, I managed to catch her, or she wouldn’t be breathing, right now.  I’m sure she will corroborate when she’s awake.”

   “She may be breathing, but she should be taken back for proper care,” Perry said. 

   “That won’t be necessary,” Miko said, sounding weak and groggy. 

   All eyes turned toward her.  Droopily at first, her eyes opened, fluttered, then opened wide.  She quickly took in her surroundings before sitting up.

   “Do you remember what happened?”  Casey asked.

   She looked at him, then glanced at each other person in turn, ending on Al.  “I do.”

   “What happened?”

   Miko was silent for a minute, cheeks brightening into a pink Casey didn’t think he would ever see on her.  “I’d rather not say.  It’s kind of embarrassing.”

   “Did you fall?” Endri asked.

   “Did Al catch you?”

   Miko nodded.  “I did fall.  I can’t say whether Al caught me or not.  All I know is that it was completely dark and I hit something after going over the railing.”

   Casey looked at Al, satisfied.  He noticed Al’s attention on the road leading away from the convent.  There was too much foliage in the way to see anything.  About the time Al said something, Casey heard motors.

   “Guys.  We have company,” Al warned.

   Miko stood up as a trio of armored jeeps rolled into view.  They were in the colors of the Park family.  The heraldry emblazoned the sides and tops of the vehicles when they rolled up and fanned out to either side of the DeLorean.  The last one simply stopped in the middle of the drive.  The mercs were effectively penned in.

   Soldiers quickly hopped out, their uniforms matching the security guards at the gatehouses.  They all had firearms at the ready.  Casey hadn't drawn his laser pistol, yet, but his hand was on the butt, ready to draw at a moment's notice.  A quick glance around showed the others in similar poses.

   Finally, out of the back of the middle jeep stepped a woman that Casey immediately recognized.  She wasn't dressed in the conservative wrap from the grocery store in town.  Her garb was much more functional, though revealing enough.  Tight padded pants and shirt under a short jacket covered in pockets, which she wore unzipped.  Her hair was bound tightly in a ponytail, giving her a fiercer countenance.

   “Baroness Emilia Park, I presume?” Casey asked.

   “You will only speak when spoken to,” a guard commanded.

   She smiled, waving the guard to be silent.  “They are not my subjects.  They are free to speak their mind.  Within reason.”  Turning her attention to Al, she asked, “How was the Gatchinroot Soda?”

   “It had enough sugar to counteract the odd flavor,” Al replied cordially.  “I thought I detected a hint of bitter aftertaste.”

   Lady Park looked around at the abbey.  “I'm glad to see my hint helped you.  When the Abbess came to me complaining about being ousted from their home, it left a bad taste in my mouth.  I always wondered why Technology Transfer would want to do that.  I had granted them access to the land expecting they simply needed a buffer to keep prying eyes away from their building.”

   She studied each mercenary in turn.  “I had always wondered what, if anything, might be here.  I've received reports of their coming and going.  Especially in the last few days.  I finally found my opportunity when you came along, asking about 'Virginia Farms'.  You found something.  Show me.  Show me what Technology Transfer is hiding on my land.”

   Casey was anxious.  They were in a standoff of sorts, and the Baroness knew a lot more than the mercs had suspected.  Heck, she had gone out of her way to interact with them in town.  Could they get away with feigning ignorance?

   “In that barn, there,” Al said, causing Casey's heart to skip a beat.  “You can see the tire tracks in the weeds.  Pretty fresh.”

   Lady Park's eyebrows rose up in surprise.  “You aren't even going to try to pretend ignorance?”

   “You already know,” Al stated.  “Our trespassing is just your excuse to barge in.  Let's just get past the meaningless stuff, and skip to the consequences.”

   Turning to her troops, Lady Park said, “Five of you with me.  The rest of you stay alert.  Do not mess with anything.  Nothing comes up missing from the DeLorean.”

   The soldiers chorused their acknowledgments.  A sergeant, the one that had tried to command the mercs to silence, picked out four other troops.  Once the team was gathered, Lady Park turned to Casey and Al, gesturing for them to lead the way. 

   “All of you come along,” she said.  “I'm sure you want to see for yourself.”

[Daemion]

Chapter 5, continued -


   Al led the way.  In the barn, a slat-wooden floor filled the interior, save for the open trap-door to one side.  As a barn, it had two entrances.  At the trap-door, Al led them down a concrete stairway, including the walls.  At the bottom, was an open metal door, leading into a large, black room.

   “Hang on,” Al said, stepping into the darkness.  “Oh.  Here they are.”

   Casey heard switches flicked.  Inside, lights winked on, revealing a very deep concrete box.  Once he stepped onto the gantry that ran the edge of the basement, he came face-to-face with a Wasp BattleMech.  The basement was four stories deep, with a dual cradle set-up at the center.  Just behind the Wasp was a Stinger, facing the other direction. 

   As soon as Endri stepped in, he looked at the gantry, and the ground below.  He leaned over to Miko.  “You fell from this?” he hissed.

   “It was dark,” Miko said, cheeks burning red again.

   “Al caught her,” Casey said.

   Casey noticed Lady Park look in their direction.  She said nothing as Al led them down a spiraling rectangular cage of stairs.  At the bottom, Casey looked over to see a ramp leading up behind the barn floor to a pair of heavy-duty doors.  He guessed that to be the entrance and exit for the 'Mechs. 

   “Look,” Al said.  He pointed to a pair of collapsible tables laden with hard drive cases, data wafers, and actual paper documents.  “Looks like the stuff they didn't want to lose from their primary facility.” 

   “The only thing that can pass for monitors are the diagnostic stations,” Endri said.  “I doubt we can simply plug a drive in to view its contents.”

   “What were you intending to do with what you found?” Lady Park asked, still surveying the whole complex.

   Al shot a look at Miko. 

   She shrugged.  “The idea was to make copies of all the hidden data for personal use, later, leaving them unaware of the duplication,” she said.

   “I wonder why they didn't leave a guard,” Perry mused.

   “They were probably counting on the stealth of the hiding place to defend their work,” Lady Park suggested.  She turned serious, looking at Miko.  “Take it.  Take it all.  It's all yours, now.”

   “This may be your land, but, the equipment belongs to TechTran,” Al said. 

   “It is my land,” she speared Al with a glare.  She turned imperious.  “And, I am revoking their access to the Abbey parcel.  They are now trespassing.  Anything of theirs is subject to confiscation.”

   “And, why don't you?” Casey asked.  “These look like two functional BattleMechs.  And, you have information on how to run them if they prove to be anything other than stock.”

   “I don't have anyone qualified to make full use of their abilities,” she replied, frank.  “I have MechJocks, and some AeroJocks.  Neither have cross-trained as the other.”

   “If I'm not mistaken, I think the Falcons are working on using tandem cockpits to allow both pilot types to run a LAM in the appropriate mode,” Al mused.

   Casey saw Endri and Perry look at him with interest.

   “I was practically coerced into giving Technology Transfer this land,” the Baroness said.  “If these 'Mechs disappear, I will be under sharp scrutiny.  Imagine the heat I would receive when these appeared in my service?”

   “But, why?” Casey pressed.  “What did TechTran do to you that you would be willing to hand off their gear without even asking for an offer.”

   Lady Park wandered slowly around while she talked.  “When the offer was presented to me to allow them on my land, I had some expectations that turned out to be misconceived.  I was expecting that they would hire some of my people, and bring money into my locale.  They did no such thing.  Not to the extent I was hoping.  They brought in their own construction crews, which did buy food out of my store.  But, that was it.  Once the construction was done, one person came into town only once a week and bought enough food for what amounted a small family. 

   “And, they ousted the nuns from their convent.  This Abbey has history on this world.  One of the first religious establishments during the colonial expansion on Gatchina.”

   She paused, casting her glance to the ground.  “All of this happened because someone wanted to keep this a secret.  My people and I were used.  I don't appreciate that.  I want them gone, so I can reclaim my land for my use.  As it stands, I can't go back on the deal that was made and force them to leave.  The person behind the deal is my own liege.  They need to want to leave.  Technology Transfer should come back to find their research is no longer viable, their secret compromised.” 

   Looking back up, Lady Park sauntered toward Al.  “Would you feel comfortable if I made an offer?”  She cast a seductive look at Al.  Reaching up, she barely touched one of his vest pockets.  Casey recalled that one was where Al kept his holo-archive.  “I could think of one thing -”

   “Not happening,” Al spat, interrupting.

   Lady Park stopped, looking at Al shrewdly.

   “It's too important to my travels.  It would take an act of God to remove that from my person,” Al added, flat.

   Snatching her hand away, she said, “I have no doubt.”  Casually, she stepped away.  She speared him with another shrewd look, giving him a full once-over.  Casey thought he detected a hint of disgust in her next statement.  “You're enhanced, aren't you?”

   Out of the corner of his eye, Casey saw Endri's head whip around to look at Al.

   Al smirked lopsidedly.  “The camera works.”

   “It does,” Lady Park said.  “We had a chance to study the video feed before coming to confront you.  A very interesting solution to dealing with the lock.”

   “You simply broke it?” Endri asked.

   He cast a brief look at Perry.  Casey realized that Endri was just now processing the ramifications.  Perry had been the one to tell the Clansman he had no chance at dueling Al in a physical confrontation.  Casey found it fascinating to see someone else react to that fact for the first time.

   “I don't care about the 'Mechs,” the Baroness said.  “And, once they're gone, I will be under sharp scrutiny, so any money that goes into my coffers from some outside source will be suspect.  Which is why I'm willing to part with them so readily.” 

   She suddenly brightened.  “Actually, there is one thing I would take as payment for all this.”  She looked at Al again with a mischief on her face.  “Tell me who you're saving yourself for.”

   “What?” Al asked surprised.  “Seriously?”

   “Seriously,” she said.

   “Nobody,” Al answered, perplexed.  Then he worked his brows and rolled his eyes, a sign of concession.  “Well, maybe Jesus, since the body of Christ is considered his bride when he returns for them.  But, that's more an outlier.”

   “You save yourself for no one?” the Baroness sounded dubious.

   “Missus Right hasn't come along,” Al said.  “Don't get me wrong.  I've met plenty of beautiful women who I would have considered settling down with.  But, I'm forced to be constantly on the move.  I'm not allowed to stay in one place for long.  None of them were able to come with me.  And, I can't go back to them.”

   Casey was surprised by Al's candor.  Looking around, Casey saw all eyes were on Al.  Perry, in particular seemed to be coming out of the malaise that had walled her off emotionally. 

   “And, what has you on the run?” the Baroness asked, looking and sounding far more interested.

   Al smirked.  “You want the truth?  I'm not from your reality.  I'm a universe-hopper.  I'm in any given reality for an unknown amount of time, then I have to move on.”

   It looked like Al was joking.  Casey wasn't feeling it, smirking humorlessly.  However, Lady Park seemed amused.

   “You answer in jest?” she asked in mock accusation.

   Al's smirk deepened into a genuine close-lipped smile.  He certainly found it funny. 

   “You won't elaborate?” the Baroness pressed.

   Al's mirth waned quickly as he momentarily cast his gaze ground-ward.  “You have my answer,” he said.

   Casey was surprised by Lady Park's sudden change in demeanor.  She slowly turned her head to an odd angle, looking like she was reflecting.  But, he saw her eyes take in the rest of the mercenaries, including Casey.  After a few seconds, she straightened, smiling shrewdly.  “You are a bold one.”

   “Not normally,” Al replied, candid.  “I figured you were a special case.”

   This moment had Casey confused.  There was context in their exchange that he wasn't getting.  It was  like listening to a couple courtiers trying to verbally joust with one another.   This was one thing about the royal life Casey absolutely hated.  For a moment, he wished he had a recording of the dialogue so he could go back and pick through each phrase.

   Was Al's joke really a joke at all.  That thought, brought back some of the odd things he heard Al say.  Casey had a hard time believing what he was starting to think.  But, the evidence thus far weighed heavily that Al had spoken the truth right in front of everyone. 

   The Baroness was used to court intrigue and verbal slight-of-hand, and she had caught on.  How long before the others put the clues together?  But, what did it matter, in the long run?  So, he's an multidimensional traveler.  It just meant he was a little more different than everyone else. 

   Casey decided that there would be no point in confronting Al about it later.  Given time, like with Perry and Down, Casey expected that Al would eventually bring it up on his own.  Or, like today, he might end up in a position where he had to explain it. 

   The man had his secrets.  Casey had his own secrets.  Endri had his own secrets.  Perry had hers.  A lot of them were probably moments of embarrassment.  Casey wasn't particularly proud of why he was in the periphery.  But, that didn't make Al any less of a friend.

   Lady Park smiled, her gaze distant.  “Serves me right for being snoopy.”  She returned to her regular level of attention.  “It may not have been the answer I was expecting, or wanting.  But, you did answer my question.  So, I'm satisfied with the deal.  You're free to come and go.”

   “Actually,” Miko said, “It might be a good idea if you escorted us out and back to the TechTran facility proper.  If you're worried about surveillance, we can't forget the sat net.   If we're to keep up the subterfuge, make it look like you caught us trespassing and escort us off the property.  Then, you can make your case for giving these 'Mechs away to our boss.”

   Baroness Park studied Miko with a sly smile.

[Daemion]

Chapter 5, continued -

Technology Transfer Research Facility
Gatchina
Free Worlds League
26 June 3059    
   


   Endri turned to address the rest of the mercenaries once he had gotten out of the DeLorean.
Al had landed it near the front door of the TechTran building.  The sun was now setting, the sky darkening, and this was one of the few places where an overhead lamp lit the area.

   “I am impressed by your team's resourcefulness.  I hope we will be able fight together again.”  His gaze lingered meaningfully on Perry.  “What was your role in the Refusal War, Perry?”

   “I still prefer not to say,” Perry replied.

   Casey was going to head inside, not really concerned with Clan affairs.  But, then he recalled his personal little prediction on an offer.  Halting, Casey listened to the conversation.

   “I think he wants to know if you were a Crusader or Warden,” Al said.

   Endri shot a curious look at Al.  “Indeed.”  He looked again at Perry.  “You are correct about my team.  We are ex-clan.  We were on the Crusader side of the Wolf split.  But, once we saw what the Falcons turned the Wolf Clan into, we knew the Wolf was dead.  We stole some experimental equipment, hijacked a DropShip, then a JumpShip, and made our way into the Inner Sphere.”

   Perry blinked at the information.

   Endri continued.  “Knowing that you were also ex-Wolf, there is room for you with us, if you wish to come along.”

   Casey nodded, proud of his predictive talents.  He turned to head back inside, but he paused when he heard Perry's reply.

   “I decline your offer,” she said, sounding kind.  “I already have friends and family to return to.  Besides, I cannot bring myself to leave Down on her own.”

   Casey had to look back to see what was going on.  This meant she was going to be sticking around.  He caught the look of wistful hope on her face when she glanced up at Al.  Casey realized what Perry had taken out of the exchange between Al and the Baroness.

   “Perry,” Casey asked, “how old are you?”

   Perry scoffed at Casey, “A gentleman should never ask a lady such things.”

   “Where did you learn that one?” Casey muttered.

   “When did you graduate from your sibko?” Al asked.

   “3056,” Perry answered automatically.  “I was considered a Ristar in my group.”

   “Endri,” Al asked, “how old are warriors when they graduate from their sibko?”

   Endri had a smirk on his face.  “Usually twenty.  But, I've heard tales of some Ristars testing as early as fifteen.”

   Perry's eyes widened.  Then, she started to fume.  She scoffed again.  “I will have you know that I am considered of-age in most Inner Sphere societies.”

   “So, you're eighteen?” Al asked.

   Perry marched into the building in a huff.

[Daemion]

That ends Chapter 5.

RTF attached.

Coming soon, Chapter 6.

[DOC_Agren]

Will there be more?

[Daemion]

Yes. Working on the next chapter right now.  Almost done. I'll go ahead and put up chunks.  My goal is to have it up tonight or into tomorrow morning.

Now, I know some of you may recognize the title and where this is going, however, I've done an extensive rewrite of the beginning part leading up to the major fight.  My blog can be found under my avatar as a URL where you can find that earlier version. 

Those older stories were crafted during the days of BattleCorps, and I was constrained by word-count and other expectations.  Now that I don't feel limited, and it's part of a larger narrative, it really requires some changes.  Things introduced early will have ramifications later on.

So, enjoy.  Completed chapter will also be attached as RTF at the end.

[Daemion]

Chapter 6

Comstar Terminal Access
Cross Road’s Oasis
Astrokaszy
17 July 3059

     Damien's bust hovered over the holographic emitter plate, casting light in the darkened communications booth like colored shadows in a photographic negative.  His picturesque Mediterranean features were enhanced by the grin on his face as he spoke.  Miko listened to the prerecorded message attentively, knowing to expect a series of orders.

     “The Curators came through for us,” Damien said his deep voice as smooth as a radio DJ.  “Camilla was very eager to help out Lady Park with her little revenge plot.  They took the Stinger LAM, and left the Wasp for us.  We also got a copy of all the data on those drives.”  He paused and shook his head.  “There's some interesting things in there.  Our sponsors will be pleased.”  Damien turned conspiratorial.  “There are schematics and material specs for Mark Three LAMs.  Jav had always thought the Star League had made some headway in advancing Variable 'Mech Configuration technology.  I had only guessed at the possibility.   Well, according to Jav, the specs are for AirMechs that would be identical to their standard 'Mech counterparts in nearly every way.  Same tonnage.  Same weapon placement.  You wouldn't know you were fighting a LAM until it transformed.  Something the production Mark Twos couldn't quite pull off.”

     Damien paused, sobering just a little.  “What we salvaged wasn't on that level.  Instead, it looks like IrTech was working on a middle-ground prototype using current LAM technologies.”  He grinned again.  Turning momentarily sheepish, he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Anyhow, I should probably quit boring you with minutia.  We will be back a week or so after you receive this message.  I already have a mission lined up for our other warriors.  The specs are attached to this message.  Let the Legion know about our latest acquisition and have them start testing their ranks for LAM-qualified applicants.  I doubt we have any, but you never know.”

     Miko perked up when Damien turned serious.  “We've been asked to report in.  That includes you and DeLessance.  We'll be picking you up when we drop off the Wasp.  It will be a long trip.”

     Brightening, Damien said, “See you in a week.  Damien out.”



     Crossroad's Oasis was not a large 'port of call' by even the greatest stretch of the imagination.  It was a small town of barely a couple dozen buildings.  However, it saw a lot of traffic as nomads and traders made their way between city states.  Astrokaszy was a populace enough periphery world that it had its own HPG installation.  But, that was far away, in one of the bigger cities on the other side of the planet.  As a trade hub, Crossroads still warranted connection to the HPG network.

     Comstar had a small hovel of a building, attended by a lone technician.  She left one of three private viewing stalls, stopping at the desk to pay the tech for rendered services.  Miko was quickly reminded of Comstar's nature about information-gathering.  She suspected the tech was also there to keep an eye on the training pods, among other things. 

     Technically, she didn't have to come here to connect to the HPG.  The old mining facility used by the Legion had a functional comm tower.  However, the Legion preferred their privacy, and rarely used it.  Broadcasting to the HPG, even through satellite, would pinpoint it's location to Comstar right away.  If Comstar found it necessary to locate the facility, Miko was sure that historical records would point out it's location, as well.  But, that, at least, would be an extra step.

     Best to remain unassuming.  Hence the trip into town.

     Jim was pleasant, as always, still wearing the robes of an acolyte.

     “How long do you think they'll maintain the religious trappings now that Comstar is secular?” she asked, idly. 

     Jim snorted at their ongoing joke.  Each time, he came up with a unique response.  “About the same time the Combine gives up its feudal Japanese and Bushido.”

     Miko smiled, noting the jab at her perceived heritage.  “Not all Japanese hale from the Combine,” she said.

     Jim perked up. “Oh, really.”

     “Really.  Good day.”

     “You, too, Miss Nakagami.”



      Being this close to the desert, exiting the Comstar terminal building was like stepping into a baking oven.  Miko quickly spotted Al's DeLorean and had to fight off a wave of mixed emotions.  Her mind immediately went back to Gatchina and the monastery barn. Even in the dry sirocco wind, she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment while she marched over to the hover car.  Looking in the window at Al, she felt her chest tighten in a way she had only experienced in combat, simulated or otherwise. 

     But, amid all that, she also felt relief.  She didn't have to hunt him down, though that would have been easy.  The compact Mistress Fusion engine was whirring with activity, which teased her with the notion of cool air inside.  Opening the gull-winged door, she could feel the relief spill onto her ankle before sliding in and sealing the door behind her.  Leaning  back and closing her eyes, she relaxed, letting the cool air conditioning seep into her, chasing the oven heat away.

     The electronic ambiance music playing from Al's radio helped her mood immensely.   

      “Anywhere else?” Al asked calmly from the driver's seat to her left.

     “No,” she blurted, sounding defensive and guilty.
   
     Her response annoyed her.  It was true, and she had nothing to be defensive about.  But, upon hearing his voice, the mixed emotions of dread, guilt, and joy, flooded back, keeping her from maintaining the professional demeanor she was used to when interacting with everyone.  The guilt was amplified even more when Al didn't react, taking her response in stride as he started the vehicle forward, gliding out of town and into the Dune Sea Desert.

     “I'm sorry,” she said, sitting up and buckling in.  As soon as the words were out, she realized that this was the perfect opportunity she had been waiting for.  “In fact, I've been intending to apologize to you for quite some time.”

     Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his brow tighten in confusion.  “What for?”

     The dread which had been fueling her anticipation went away at seeing his reaction.  She concluded that Al hadn't held any of the negative feelings she had feared for nearly three weeks.  This heightened her feeling of guilt, and the burning sensation returned to her cheeks.

     “The barn,” she answered. 

     The memory of the accident was still fresh.  She had found the open door leading to a stairwell into the barn floor, and the gantry into the dark chasm.  Miko had called out for Al, wondering where he was at.  To her surprise, he answered. 


     “I'm looking for the lights,” his voice called back to her.  From below. 

     “Hang on.  I'll join you,” Miko said.

     “No!  Wait -” Al started to say.

     However, she had already started to fumble around.  Too late, she stumbled against the railing.  Before Miko could react, she rolled over the edge.  Her stomach twisted in the feeling of free-fall.  Time seemed to slow down as she watched the glowing light from the open door start to orbit around her.  Then something slammed into her from the side, and the memory ended.



     “I also wanted to thank you,” Miko said, pausing for a second, then added for clarification, “for rescuing me.”

     “I'd do it for anyone,” Al replied idly, eyes ahead on the desert road.

     Miko looked down at her knees as another memory flitted through her mind, when she had brought up her arm to restrain Al from what looked like an instinctive reaction.  He had started to move, under gun-point.  It was apparent to everyone present at that time that the pirate family was being led to their execution, away from prying eyes and the risk of fair trial.  It looked to Miko as if Al had intended to intervene.  The look on his face when she pointed out their situation was something she had sympathized with. 

     She had never given it a second thought, until now.

     “Of course you would,” she muttered, letting a gloomy smile curl her lips.  Turning serious, again, she raised her head, looking at the outside scenery, though her attention was toward the driver's seat. 

     “I still don't get why you feel guilty about that,” Al said in the silence.

     Miko felt a sense of relief and a touch of joy hearing that, and she let the mild smirk return.  “If I hadn't chased after you and fallen, the secret of your enhancement wouldn't have gotten out.”

     Al's brow quirked, his head tilting with the revelation.

     Feeling more comfortable, Miko pressed on.  “I had been intending to tell you on Gatchina.  But, ever time I'd try, I felt so stupid.”  Even now, embarrassment threatened to overwhelm Miko into inaction.  “Ever since Lady Park exposed your chastity, going so far to suggest that you might be waiting for me -”  Miko hesitated.  “I had given up on any notions of love and relationship a long time ago.  And, suddenly, with her words I felt things I had only experienced once before.”

     Miko looked at Al, letting her gaze linger, so long as he kept his focus on the road ahead.  “I followed you to the barn with stupid girlish notions of discovering the truth in private.”  Turning back to the scenery, she added, “As I said, it was stupid, and I feel stupid for letting my emotions get the better of me.  And, I apologize for the fallout afterward.”

     “Eh.  It doesn't remain a secret for long, where ever I go,” Al admitted with an amused smirk.  “And!  Need I remind you, I did break the padlock with my bare hands.”  He glanced her way.  “On purpose.  So, you have no reason to feel guilty.”

     Miko felt a touch of despair start to creep back.  He had no idea of the details involved in their company.  He was an ally, and a powerful one at that.  She decided that keeping his allegiance was more important than protocol.

     “It's more than that,” she said.  “I am obligated to report to Damien.  And, we have a sponsor he is obligated to report to, as well.”  Miko paused, struggling to organize her thoughts and put them to words.  When she next spoke, it was haltingly.  “My actions revealed a new scope to your augmentations.  We knew you were strong, and potentially fast.  But, all we knew was what was on the security cams.”

     Miko glanced at Al.  He seemed to be listening intently, even though his eyes didn't stray from the road ahead.  “Now?  You admitted to catching me in front of witnesses who also got a look at the site of my fall.”  She looked back to the passing desert scenery.  “And, what more, from our brief talk in the basement, I personally know that you were below me when I tumbled over the railing.  That means you jumped up at least two stories to catch me.”

     “From the side, actually,” Al clarified, looking amused, glancing at Miko.  She turned to watch him as he explained.  “If I had jumped straight up to catch you, I would have hit you with at least double the force of a floor impact.”  He motioned with his right hand, illustrating.  “I had to leap over to a wall and launch over from the side to catch you.  I tried to cradle your head before hitting the ground in a roll to bleed off the momentum.”  He glanced at her one more time.  “It worked, if only partially.  You're here, alive.  But, you were unconscious when I first checked on you.”

     Miko sat, stunned, while she processed the new information.  “You don't happen to have augmented vision, do you?”

     “No.”

     “Then, you couldn't have used the stairs to get out,” she mumbled.

     “It was pretty dark down there.  I had to jump up to the railing to get us out.”

     Surprised, Miko shot a look at Al.  His amused look was still plastered all over his face.

     “I can't hide that,” she breathed.

     “Pardon?” Al asked.

     Miko closed her eyes a moment as she focused her thoughts into ordered words.  “You do  realize that I have to report all that you've told me to Damien, right?”

     “Yup.”

     She shot him another look out of surprise.  Then she focused away from him and on her thoughts.  “Even if I tried, I don't know how long I could hide that magnitude of augmentation.”

     “But, you don't have to,” Al replied in a reassuring tone.  “As I said.  Where ever I go, it comes out eventually.”

     “But, Damien will have to tell our sponsor.  And, once the story spreads, someone is going to take interest.  They'll come to try to either take or destroy you.”

     Al turned sombre.  “And, you're concerned about who all might get caught in the crossfire.”  He shot her a sad smile.  “Like with the Browns.  I could have taken out our guards in the blink of an eye and saved those people.  But, someone might have gotten off a shot, and killed you, Casey, Damien -”  He trailed off.

     Miko felt a new bout of guilt in the light of new information.  She didn't comment right away.  Al waited patiently, giving her the opening to say something in the following seconds.  Once she had her emotions in check, she spoke.

     “That's only part of it.  Knowing you, you won't let it come to a crossfire.  I'm concerned that you'll disappear soon, to keep the chase away from the Legion, from Damien, and the rest of us.  In the last few months, I've grown to appreciate the friendship we've generated.  I do consider you a friend, and would hate to lose you so soon.”

     Al didn't say anything.  Studying him, Miko found him looking more reflective.  Ever since Gatchina, she thought she understood what Al was going through, being a man on the run.  She could only imagine his thoughts, his feelings, on having to keep everyone at arm's length in order to keep them safe from his past.

     “It must be hard,” She said into the growing silence.  “Having to keep distant from everyone, because you never know when you'll have to leave.”

     “Eh. I've kinda gotten used to the seemingly random time for my departure,”  Al commented lightly.  That is what spurns me to be a little more bold in exploring, getting to know people, and to cherish what friendships I happen to make along the way.  No.  As I told Lady Park weeks ago, I keep the notion of a love-life distant because nobody I've met has been allowed to follow me.  I would need a clear sign from my creator, or the creator of this reality, before I'd even begin to entertain the notion.”

     Miko had turned her outside the car while he spoke.  “I can understand wanting a signal from God, but why would your engineers get a say in what you do?”

     “They don't,” he said, with a quiet chuckle.  “I'm talking about the God that created the world I'm from.”

     “I thought that joke was to get Lady Park off your back,” Miko mused, puzzled. 

     She tore her eyes away from the scenery to study Al.  She found the amused but sad look that crossed his features on occasion.  Every time she had seen it, someone had missed something, failing to meet his expectations. 

     She tried to recall the conversation that was now weeks old.  With time, it had morphed in her memory to fit her conclusions, so she wasn't sure if her recall was at all accurate.  But, there had been one thing he had said that stood out in her mind.

     “You had given her your answer,” Miko muttered.  Epiphany struck.  With the new realization, she said, louder, “You weren't joking.”  Confusion returned as she recalled more of the events around Lady Park.  “But, why did you make it seem like you were?”

     Al glanced at her with a twinkle in his eye.  “Awe!  Just because it eventually comes to light doesn't mean I can't have a little fun before hand, does it?  I played a little game of subterfuge to see who might catch on.  It's not like I haven't been dropping hints all over the place.  What's interesting is that Lady Park figured it out right away.  She didn't say it directly, but the way she looked around at the rest of you was telling enough.  Perry might already have figured it out.  She and Down are thick as thieves, so what one knows or guesses, the other will, too.  Once they clue in, I'm sure to hear about it.”

     He gave her another side-long glance.  “And, now there's you.”

     Overwhelmed by what he said, Miko sat, numb, not staring at anything in particular.  It was all surreal, and the biggest problem she had was wrestling with whether she believed it or not.  In that moment, the first thought that quickly scrambled out of the rushing jumble in her firing synapses was the reason why nobody was 'allowed' to follow him.

     “So, it's not that you leave people for their safety.  It's because they physically can't go with you into the next world,” she stated.

     “That's right,” Al said.  “Unlike you, I wasn't born into this world.  I'm merely deposited by the power of my Creator, and sometimes in collaboration with the designer of the world in question.  Honestly, I think they're one-and-the-same, different personality aspects of the One Creator-God.  Once events have transpired that my Creator wanted me to witness and participate in, I'm removed and placed in the next world.”

     During the rest of the drive back to the Legion's hidden compound, Miko listened to an extensive explanation on what traveling between universes was like for one Alius Cad'ver.  The more he explained, the more she recalled details, both little and big, that corroborated his story.  The Jewel archive.  His knowledge of parts of her world that he shouldn't rightly be privy to, like the Clans and their general modus operandi.  The name he had chosen for himself, having given up on his birth name countless realities prior.

     Once they pulled into the mine and the entrance doors closed behind the De Lorean, she had no doubt he was telling the truth. 

     “Wait,” she said, catching Al as he moved to open the door and get out.  “I have to report to Damien what you told me about your augmentations.”

     He gave her a knowing look, smirking good-naturedly.  “You do what you have to.”

     The trust he had shown her in the last hour of driving still moved Miko at her core.  “But, your other secret is safe with me.”

     With a brief appreciative look on his face, he made a noncommittal gesture, then got out. 

     Miko followed suit.  She hopped up from under the gull-winged door with a light step, reflecting how she felt inside.  Her burden of mistakes had been forgiven, and she had learned something very private from a friend.  That whistful feeling from her school days, and from Gatchina returned. 

     Turning to Al, she asked, “If circumstances were different, would I be -?”  She hesitated as words failed her.

     Al appeared to catch on.  He gave her a once-over.  “In any other circumstance,” He said, good-naturedly. 

     She felt her cheeks start burning.  “What are you doing later?” she asked, hesitant. 

     Al perked up.  “It's Kaz's birthday, today.  He's running a monster movie marathon in the rec hall for the whole day.”

     “Kazuki Nguyen?” Miko asked.

     “Yup.”

     “Do you mind if I join you later?  I have some orders to look at and distribute, first.”

     “Sure,” Al said after a moment of reflection.  “I'm not gonna stop you.”

     The giddy feeling in Miko heightened.  She smiled, quickly turned and strode quickly toward the office complex.  One thing she had concluded while listening to Al was that going with him in his travels wasn't impossible.  If she really wanted it, she could appeal to his, or her, creator-god.  The feelings of a crush washed through her.  This time Miko tempered that with experience.  She needed to  determine whether she wanted to go with him bad enough.  That required spending time with him.  That could take a long time, assuming he would be around that long.



     The Rec Room was dark, save for the far wall, where a projection screen hung.  On it, streamed a movie with men dressed in rubber lizard and cardboard robot costumes.  The reflected light from the screen cast silhouettes of a large audience.  In a particularly bright moment, Miko spotted Al near the middle, out along the wall nearest the door. 

     Picking her way through the poor arrangement of seats, she quietly apologized to those she bumped.  Finally, she found an open chair next to Al and plopped down beside him.  She tried to follow what was playing out on screen, but it was apparent the movie was well along.  So, she just tried to enjoy the cheep action shots and cheesy dialogue as it came.  It turned out the movie was near the end, and after fifteen minutes of wrap-up and credits, Kaz turned up the lights, his mongoloid features sporting a grin.

     While Kaz announced the next film in the line-up, Miko turned to Al.

     “That's the cheapest kind of entertainment known to man,” she said. 

     “Yeah. Who knew suit-mation was still a thing,” Al replied.

     “Some worlds, it's the best they can do,” Miko said, conceding.  “I find it hard to immerse myself in something so blatantly not real.” 

     “What!  You mean the idea of giant lizards, or simply the production quality?”

     “The production quality,” Miko said.  “As vast as this galaxy is, I have no doubt there are giant lizards out there that can tower over the trees and wrestle with each-other.  They're out there.”  She smiled at Al.  “The likelihood of our encountering them,  though, is probably non-existent.”

     Al turned reflective.  “Yeah.  Most likely.”

[Daemion]

This Week's Creature Feature:
Mineral Mayhem


Rim Mining Proprietary Planet 4
High Orbit
Periphery System 18130321001
9 August 3059


     The Leopard that had been commissioned to haul Casey and Al to their new job site happened to have been modified with observation lounges to either side of the bridge, just behind the protruding cockpit section.  Each lounge was situated much like a passenger liner, albeit one-sided,  with a row of seats next to armor-glass portholes.  The Captain of 'Speckle' generously let the MechWarriors and their technicians sit on the side with a view of the upcoming planet.

     From his vantage, Casey could only see a dirty white orb with patches of fluffy cloud-tops amid splotches of gray.  Through some of the clouds, he thought he caught sight of a faint orange glow, indicating one of the vast lava seas mentioned in the briefing.  On the forward bulkhead, a large monitor hung for all to view.  Currently displayed was a sensor readout overlaying a topographic map.  A giant orange blob matched what Casey thought he saw below.

     “This looks like it's gonna be hell,” Darran growled from the seat behind Casey.  The Fed Suns expat sounded a little extra grumpy, his voice low and gravelly and the Outback accent a little thick. 

     All three mounted Legionnaires and their assigned technicians were accompanying Al and Casey on this trip.  The Crudasder team, Jenn Rainier and John Bahn, were long-time members of the Legion.  Darran brought his son, T. Ryan, as technician for team Awesome.  And, Kazuki Nguyen manned the newly minted Wasp LAM.  He was accompanied by a two-man team consisting of Petra Zoller, a grizzled master tech, and her apprentice Ryan Smythe.  Those two had spent all trip poring over the specs and readouts that came with the pilfered Star League wonder.  But, today, even they came to the lounge to have a look at there destination.

     “Well, you didn't have to come along,” Casey mused, replying to Darran's gripe.

     “I'm not about to lose my place in the Awesome's cockpit,” Darran snapped.  He resumed his dour growling.  “Nimaj was pretty clear about making sure someone was in one of your 'Mechs and out on missions.  I don't want to have to wait to retest on a new ride in what may be a year.  This garrison contract will be about that long.  You and I know that the likelihood that will come back with anything more than our own gear is not likely.”

     “Ahh,” Casey remarked, blowing Darran's concerns off.  “I get the salvage conditions.  But, it's not going to be that bad.”
   


     Once the Speckle had burned through re-entry and dropped below the clouds, Casey got a better look at the surrounding countryside.  Off to the side and behind him, he saw a volcano spewing a column of ash, looking like it was a giant shifting tree holding up the cloudy sky.  Beyond that were many more like it, or others oozing rivers of lava down their ragged surfaces.  As the DropShip soared east, the fiery mountain range shrank with distance.  Dormant calderas replaced them, each series more and more worn and weathered with time and erosion.  Each one had jagged crusty sides, old lava flows pooling in valleys between each dirt-colored pimple of a mountain. 

     “What did I tell ya?” Darran asked, wryly.  “It's gonna be hell.”

     Casey watched the hellscape below.  “My dad told me that if you wanted the good ores, the rare minerals and the heavy metals, you have to go to hell to find them.”

     “What about normal worlds?” Jenn asked, her New Avalon lilt barely noticeable.

     “'Garden Worlds'?” Casey asked.  “Well, you might get lucky and find a decent vein, but there's  a fine balance to be maintained.  You don't want to overly effect the ecology that makes the world habitable to begin with.”

     “So, pros and cons,” Al said from the seat in front of Casey.

     “Yup.”

     Outside, the valley ahead looked different from the ones they had passed.  The jagged flows were interrupted with clear signs of strip-mining.  Giant terraced pits opened up like artistic carvings chiseled into a volcanic stone, their rugged symmetry jarring in the wild randomness of nature.  Even from this height, Casey could see work lights moving around in their depths. 

     Each pit Casey spotted was connected by a smooth trail of a road.  That path network webbed between the pits and also led to a centralized hub.  More lights, belonging to ore haulers moved along those roads like very slow bits moving along a circuit-board. 

     Sitting majestically at that hub was a large mobile platform.  About as big as an ocean mining rig, this mobile facility sat atop huge treads.  From the briefing, it acted as home for the staff, including the defense force, complete with living quarters, public gathering and recreation facilities, and an elaborate dining hall.  Casey tried picking out the hangars and garages for the huge machinery involved in the operation.  The rest of the platform was dedicated to the processing system, with loading docks and tumblers connected to conveyors which disappeared into the guts of the platform.  On top of it all was a huge, heavy-duty landing deck rated to hold small DropShips around the size of a Leopard, but as heavy as a Buccaneer, complete with elevator lifts for 'Mechs and other cargo down into the interior.

     “I appreciate the risk Rim Mining is taking, coming to a world like this,” Casey mused. 

     “Do you know this company?” Al asked, sounding honestly curious.

     “I've never heard of them,” Casey replied.  “And I know of quite a few mining firms, between my family's business, their partners, and their rivals.  Anyone else heard of them?”

     The other spectators gave negative replies, or didn't say a thing.

     “Curious,” Darran muttered.

     Into the growing silence, Al said, “The name makes me think of the defunct Rim Worlds Republic that used to border the Lyran portion of the Commonwealth before and during the Star League.  The trip had taken two jumps, though.  So we can't possibly be anywhere near that region of space.”

     Casey's breath caught at the reminder of his home.  Al was right.  They were close, but still very far away.

     “Now that you go into that train of thought, I think Belters are known for operations like this,” Jenn said.

     Al didn't respond.  After a few seconds of silence, Casey added another thought.  “Regardless, they've put a lot into this gig.  That rig is mobile, most likely to evacuate should this region become unstable.”

     “You're sure it's not to run away from the local wild-life?” Al asked, tossing Casey an ornery smirk from over the seat's shoulder.



     The 'Mech bay inside Speckle was busy.  Bay technicians had suited up to handle the unbreathable atmosphere outside.  Casey waited inside his Griffin's cockpit, 'Mech powered up, ready to exit and move to the lift.   Al was first in the queue, and had vacated the stall to Casey's left.  To Casey's surprise, the machine to replace the Warhammer didn't step in to take its place.

     “Oh, wow,” Al's disembodied voice sounded a tad alarmed, but largely impressed.  “Take a look at what's coming in, guys.”

     Casey watched a truck roll into the 'Mech Bay with a Phoenix Hawk on its over-sized bed.  The 45-ton humanoid had seen better days.  Large portions of its hull were scratched up by what Casey could only guess were giant claws.  Other sections, like the head and right shoulder were crushed.  It was missing its leg below the knee, the lower half lying detached and strapped down near the back of the truck bed.

     Minutes passed while techs worked on attaching winches and cables to lift the battered wreck up-right and secure it in the stall. 

     “I told you,” Darran said.  “This mission's going to be hell.”

     When a Thunderbolt replaced the Awesome in it's stall across the bay, Casey decided to ask a question over the local frequencies.  “What happened?”

     An unfamiliar voice answered.  It was deep, sporting an accent that Casey didn't recognize.  He attributed it to one of the many dialects to be found in the Free Worlds.  “We are bound by NDA.  If you want to know, ask the foreman when you get inide.”

     Casey let that slide.  He understood non-disclosure agreements.  One other piece of curiosity bade him change the subject.  “Acknowledged.  Can you tell me who you are?”

     He felt the question was innocent enough.  There was no harm in establishing potential connections for the future.

     “I can.  But I won't.  Our unit values our privacy, just as I imagine your unit does.”

     Surprised, but nonplussed, Casey simply replied, “Acknowledged.”

[Daemion]

Chapter 6, continued

Rim Mining Facility

     The briefing room was all of six meters by three with drop-down ceiling tiles barely centimeters above Casey's head when standing.  The walls were faux wood paneling, decorated on one end with a whiteboard.  The other decorations included ancient motivational posters, a digital shift clock next to a couple tall card slot containers randomly half full of employee ID cards, and a digital communication station, complete with monitor.  Above the whiteboard was a holographic projector.  There were two cheep wood doors, one on each end along the left wall, if the whiteboard was considered the front of the room.

     Casey sat in a plastic-on-metal fold-up chair, arms resting on a matching plastic fold-up table.  The furniture certainly showed its age.  No longer pristine white, stains gave a lot of the tables and chairs off-colored patches. 

     Two men entered near the whiteboard and closed the door.  Casey assumed that the foreman was the man who took up position in the center, while the other leaned against the wall near the door.  Both wore Rim Mining shirts, but that was where the company uniform ended.  The man in front wore navy blue dress-pants, while the other man wore blue jeans.  Casey noted the names on their tags. 

     The man in the corner was labeled Yamane.  A slim Asian man, his features weren't as Mongolian like Kaz's.  But, his hairline was characteristically high, like what Casey had seen in movies featuring Combine characters.  Leaning against the wall, Yamane stroked his silvering goatee, eyeing the room with his black gaze while the other guy talked.

     Martin was the name on the tag of the guy Casey assumed was their boss.  A Caucasian, Martin sported a mane of silvering hair and beard with streaks of white highlighting his 'chops' around his chin.  Tall and strong, he was barrel chested, sporting a bit of a gut from age or soft living.  As he spoke, his tenor was on the low end, kind of nasal, but firm and strong with authority.  He had an accent, but it was light, reminding Casey of a Davion core-worlder's drawl.

     “I'm Ray Martin, and I'm in charge of this operation.  Before we get started, I remind you of the NDA you signed before accepting this mission.  Now that you're here, that NDA is in force.  Anything that's seen or heard here never leaves this planet.  We have our means of enforcing this, so don't test us.”

     He glanced at each MechWarrior and MechTech.  “I imagine you all have questions.  Let's get those out of the way, first.”

     Al raised his hand, but Darran spoke out first.

     “I notice that salvage has to be approved,” he said, voice loud, his accent sounding normal.   When Darran was agitated, Casey observed that Darran's outback drawl would thicken.

     Martin seemed to relax.  “If you're talking normal salvage, you have no need to worry, there.  Any 'Mech or vehicle you kill, you get to keep.  You can even recover your own gear should you need to.” He took on a look of empathy.  “But!  The likelihood of that kind of raid is next to non-existent.”

     “Because of the NDA,” Casey added.

     Darran visibly soured.

     “Correct.  As you have guessed, this is a remote system and we have the sole stake-hold.  We want to keep it that way,” Martin said.

     Al raised his hand again. 

     Martin acknowledged him with a nod.

     “So, what happened to that Pixie?” Al asked, serious.

     “You mean the Phoenix Hawk,” Martin corrected. 

     Al nodded.

     “It succumbed to the local wildlife, which happens to be one of the biggest reasons for the NDA,” Martin said.

     There were a lot of gasps and exclamations.  Most of them echoed Casey's blurted, “How?”

     This time, Yamane spoke up.  His voice was higher pitched than expected.  Casey heard an accent matching Miko's in the man's phrasing.  “Giant lizards.  The ones we've seen range in the same sizes as BattleMechs.  A rare few I've seen were taller than the tallest known 'Mech by a head.”

     Casey was still perplexed, and opened his mouth to voice as much, but Yamane continued.  “The thing is, these lizards are unique.  They're not like the Ranger Bulls on Galisteo, which can be shot and taken down at range with the right weapon.  Some of you might be familiar with the legend of Hunter's Paradise.  There were rumored to be critters there which could potentially overwhelm a 'Mech, but even then, a 'Mech wasn't required to go hunting.  With a high-powered rifle and enough range, any of those creatures  can be taken down by an unprotected gunman.  'Mechs were only there to handle situations where things went wrong.”

     Yamane stepped away from the wall.  “But, these?  These lizards have a hide that gives a similar effect as Combat Grade armor plate.  And, they're shifty enough to make good use of it.”

     “Which means we have to engage at typical ranges for Armored Combat,” Kaz said, disbelieving.

     “That explains direct-fire weapons,” Casey said.  “What about smart rounds, like missiles?”

     “They emit their own radiation, which messes with targeting much the same way as ECM jamming.”

     “Radiation,” someone muttered in the next round of astonished exclamations.

     “Did the pilot survive?” Jenn asked, concerned. 

     “Not really,” Martin answered.  “She wasn't devoured, if that's what your asking.  But, between the radiation and the hostile atmosphere, she did die before her teammates could reach her.”

     “But, we've had people eaten early on,” Yamane said with a strangely perverse look of humor.  “Oddly enough, we're not very appetizing.  Any lizard that ate a person quickly fell ill and died.  So, be assured that if one does eat you, you'll be taking it with you.”

     The room was silent for a moment.  Martin cast a stern look at Yamane.  “Seriously, Cash?  Don't you think that's a little morbid for first-timers?”

     Yamane shrugged.  “They asked.  And they should know what they're getting into.”

     “The briefing we got said 'hostile wildlife',” Al interjected into the silence.  “Is there anything else we should keep an eye out for?”

     Yamane shook his head.  “As far as we know, these lizards are the only form of life we've seen.”

     “Not even microbial?” Al's Tech, Blue, asked.

     “Not even microbes,” Yamane confirmed.

     “So, what else do you know about the lizards?”  Jenn asked.

     “That's pretty much it,” Yamane confessed.  “We know they're migratory.  You didn't see any on the flight in because they're in a different region for the season.  They'll come back sometime early next year.  When the whole heard is here, they seem to go into a rut, getting aggressive to the point of violence.  That's when the 'Pixie', as you call it,” Yamane paused to smile at the name, “got overwhelmed and damaged beyond their group's capacity to repair.” 

     “Huh,” Casey mused.  “If they're that unique, certainly, you'd have brought in a biologist to study these things.”

     “We did,” Martin said.  He waved a hand at Yamane.  “You're speaking with Dr. Takashi Yamane, xenobiologist.  You might not have heard of him because he has yet to publish anything on the creatures he's studied here.”

     “Under NDA?” Darran asked with a touch of bitter sarcasm.

     “Sadly, yes,” Yamane replied with an amused smirk.  “But, I really don't have much  to work with beyond some flesh samples we've recovered of dead ones.  Trying to follow the herd is next to impossible, and they're dangerous without protection.  The particulate in the atmosphere makes conventional flight short.  Once you get past the road network, there's no easy way of traversing the ragged volcanic leftovers that pretty much define the landscape.”

     Shrugging, Yamane added, “We don't know where they migrate to.  We have no idea in what way they reproduce.  We have yet to see anything that might act as a repellent to keep them at bay.  There appear to be two sexes, and it looks like they're a form of terravore.  We see them steam-shoveling the ground when they're massed in the area.  But, beyond that, I don't have much to work with.”

     “What kind of biology are we looking at?” Al asked. 

     Casey glanced at his friend to see a twinkle of open curiosity in Al's eyes.

     “It's not Helical, if that's what you're asking.  But, it's hard to describe, since I never get to see it in action while a lizard is alive.  It looks -”  Yamane deflated as he thought.  “The best way I can describe it is 'tubular'.”

     “Which doesn't really concern you,” Martin said, looking at the mercs.  “When Yamane is cleared to publish, maybe then.  For now, all you need to know is that their hide is as tough as 'Mech armor, and that they get grumpy in early spring.  Which is why we bring in 'Mech Mercs.” 

     He glanced around.  “Any last questions?”

     “Yeah,” Darran said.  “If their skin is as tough as 'Mech Armor, what about their insides?  How much of a beating can they take?”

     “They're glass-jawed,” Yamane said.  “Once you breach their hide, they feel pain and will take injury.  If you hit the main body or head, they will die, practically instantly.”

     “So, we only have to worry about stampeding,” Jenn's Tech, John mused aloud.

     “It's a concern,” Martin said.  “But, they seam to be learning.  This last year, they've largely kept their distance from the pits when a 'Mech was present.  The Phoenix Hawk was a fluke, as far as I'm concerned.”

     He gave the group a moment of silence for any other questions.  When none came, he said, “Now!  I noticed that your boss didn't provide a unit name.  However, some of you claim to go by the 'Vagabond Legion of the Damned'?”

     “The Vagabond Legion is a pool of free-lancers,” Casey said.  “They man our empty machines that we salvage.”

     “Then, I take it you're the one in charge?” Martin asked, spearing Casey with an intense gaze. 

     “While I may be the more experienced between myself and Al, he was the first to actually get hired on as a full-fledged member.  So, that makes him the senior member, here.”

     Martin's gaze shifted to Al about the same time that Al shot Casey a quizzical look. 

     “So, you're in charge?”

     “Well, if that's the case,” Al said, an ornery twinkle in his eye, “I'd rather defer to experience.  That, I believe, would fall to the Legionnaires.”

     “Good call,” Darran said with a sage nod.  “I've seen a couple short wars and many a skirmish in my time.”

     Jenn perked up, amused.  “Oh, really?”

     Casey watched Martin deflate with a sour look.  “You can sort it out later.  Once you have a designated leader, let me know.  Right now, it's time to get to business.  Since your official unit doesn't have an official name, I will come up with one for the duration of your mission.  I will let you know the moment you come to me with a leader.”

     He closed his eyes and sighed.  “With that out of the way, it's time to get your warbook updated.  Thanks to Yamane and the efforts of the first mercs to defend our facility, we have developed an entry that will help your combat computers range your targets.  This information is proprietary and will be deleted from your system before you leave.  Any BattleROM footage will equally be confiscated and wiped from your 'Mech's drives.”

     Martin turned and strode toward the door, giving one last instruction on the way.  “Follow me, and I'll introduce you to our Garage Foreman, Akira Ogata.  He'll get the warbook upgrade process going.” 

[Daemion]

Chapter 6, Continued


Rim Mining Facility
Planet 4
Periphery System 18130321001
5 February 3060

     Behind his stationary Griffin, Casey got a great view on the compressed panoramic monitor of the giant mobile processing platform.  Mining machinery was constantly active, never stopping save to affect repairs.  Giant ore haulers kept coming from active mining pits to deposit their loads into the processing system.   

     One such hauler was backing into a dock at the moment.  It was as tall as the Hostile Environment model Buster LoaderMech that guided it and at least twice as long.  Staff in orange hostile environment suits quickly worked switches and levers, getting the dock into position while the truck's dumper rose.  They finished and got out of the way just before tons of dirt and rock started tumbling down into a second container.  Debris dribbled from the other end onto a conveyor system which disappeared into the guts of the rig.

     Casey marveled at their efficiency, especially in light of the hellish aspects of this world.  The unstable nature of the planet.  The toxic, cloudy atmosphere.  The looming aspect of mineral gobbling giant lizards. 

     The comm light blinked a few seconds before Martin's voice boomed in Casey's ear. 

     “Alright, Bouncers.  You get your chance to see some of the local wildlife.  Pitt six has reported sighting of a small herd approaching their position.  It's to the west by northwest.  Marking it on your map.  Transmitting.”

     To Casey's physical left, the Port side 'Mech Hangar's doors folded open.  Situated between two of the large treads, it revealed a ramp up into the bay proper.  Darran's Awesome and Al's Warhammer  strolled down, one-by-one.

     “Jenn's still in her fifteen minutes of daylight,” Darran said.  “I'll stay back here until she's ready to join up. That leaves you two young lads.  Kaz will be on stand-by on the deck above with the LAM.”

     “Got it,” Casey said. 

     Once again, Casey was reminded about the perpetual cloud cover.  There hadn't been a sunny day since they landed.  Rumor had it, there had never been one.  The volcanic activity kept the clouds ever-present, though thin enough on occasion that Casey could barely make out the star's faint outline once or twice in the couple months he had been here.  Because of that and constantly being cooped up in the facility's living quarters, Rim mining had established a room for sunlight beds.  These were more elaborate than mere UV beds for tanning.  The bulbs were full-spectrum light.  Everyone had to take fifteen minutes in one, twice a day, in order to combat SAD.  No exceptions.  There were enough people that a tight schedule had to be maintained.  Jenn was in the middle of her first session, this early in the day.

     “Do we want to go at speed?” Al asked.

     “Might as well,” Casey said.

     Al turned his barrels in the direction of the Nav marker and throttled his 'Mech into a run.  Casey put his Griffin up to a combat run.  The Griffin started to outpace the Warhammer, until a fusillade of azure particle beams and lasers lanced out to the horizon.

     Yamane's voice came on the line. “Bouncer Three, I told you that your shots will only function at typical combat ranges.”

     “There's a method to my madness, Doc,” Al said. 

     The Warhammer's thermal sig bloomed red a moment before the cooling system kicked in.  It dropped in a second to something above normal.  At that point, the distance between the Griffin and Warhammer stopped widening.  The heavy 'Mech's pace quickened to match Casey's Griffin, and it was a sight to behold.  From outside, it ran with a track-star's gate.  Casey knew his own ride had slightly longer legs, but that was minor when it came to rate of motion. 

     The Warhammer didn't fire anymore, but its temperature reading only fluctuated slightly, suggesting to Casey Al had turned off all but one freezer.  That would change once they got in range of the hostiles. 

     “New Tech,” Yamane mused.

     “Yup,” Al replied.



     At pit six, Casey's HUD displayed seven red dots on the opposite side.  They were about a kilometer beyond, busily shoveling up mouthfuls of dirt, wandering ever so slowly to the active earth movers and ore haulers.  Hovering his reticule over the nearest one, Casey found himself slightly surprised at their appearance.  Their hide wasn't scaled, like he subconsciously expected.  He had seen enough images and watched enough old ROM footage to know better.  But, it didn't really sink in until now.

     They looked like some child's attempt at a lizard via a mud sculpture that had been left to dry too long.  Their hide was crusty, looking like they had wallered in the very minerals they ate.  And, their teeth were equally as jagged, looking like random cut crystals jammed into both sides of their mouths.  For their ugly appearance, they looked calm and docile, showing no signs of the violence he had seen in the ROM viewings.

     “How do you want us to do this?” Al asked.  “Do we kill them, or just run them off?”

     “I'll leave that up to you,” Martin replied.

     Casey had a sudden moment of brilliance.  “Hey, Doc.  Are these things edible?”

     Yamane harrumphed over the line.  That's why I was sought out and brought in.  After the first lizard kill, some people had the same brilliant idea.  Do you know what happens when you consume sugar without insulin in your system?”

     “Not really,” Casey admitted. 

     “It destroys your organs,” Al said.

     “Right,” Yamane agreed.  “Sugar's a crystal, and when broken down to microscopic portions, is as sharp as glass shards.  It effectively cuts you to ribbons on the inside.  Well, these things are worse.  Those tube structures that make up their musculature appear to be made of carbon. They're like razor wire.  They don't have to be microscopic to do their damage to your intestines and stomach.  The first guy to try choked to death on his own vomit and blood as his esophagus got lacerated from swallowing the stuff, even after a good half-hour of boiling.  His stomach reacted violently and tried to force it back out.”  There was a pause over the line.  “Terrible way to go.”

     “That sucks,” Casey mused.  “Can't take away any souvenirs.  Can't even get by with turning them into a cuisine.”

     “Firing,” Al said, giving Casey a cue of his actions. 

     Casey noticed that the Warhammer had fallen behind, its thermal signature having returned to ambient.  Turning his focus forward, Casey watched as Al's PPCs fired off in a one-two pattern.  He had targeted two different lizards.  While they had line of sight, they were still hopelessly out of range. 

     Each beam touched its target for the briefest moment before each lizard twitched and twisted rapidly.  On the HUD, there was no indication of damage.  A quick zoom revealed the caked mud glowing with absorbed, dissipated energy.  Very much as their intel had advertised.

     However, one of the larger females, identifiable by the two large crystalline growths sprouting from the back of her head, made a noise.  It was echoed by the male that had also been targeted.  The rest of the herd looked up, eyed Al and Casey's approaching machines, and turned tail. 

     “Looks like we can just herd them away,” Al said.

     “For now,” Casey mused.

[Daemion]

Chapter 6, Continued

Rim Mining Facility
Planet 4
Periphery System 18130321001
31 March 3060

   
     In the last week, Casey had come to agree with Darran.

     This mission was hell.

     Things had been barely tolerable, being cooped up in the living quarters.  In spite of the bed treatment, Casey got to see the perpetual overcast sky when he was in his cockpit which had started to grate on his calm reserve.  Al's archive had helped expand the viewing library by a lot during the lulls, so Casey hadn't been necessarily bored.

     But, now?

     On the Radar display in the upper right corner of his HUD, Casey caught slight motion out of the corner of his eye.  Tearing his eyes away from the mining team as yet another ore hauler unloaded its cargo, he looked straight to the radar.  Dozens of red blips hovered at the edge of his sensors. One had moved closer and some others were slowly following.  After a few seconds, they stopped.

     He watched them a while longer.

     They didn't move again.

     Inside the loosely defined border, there were a small handful of green dots moving around.  Those were the ore haulers and excavators at the six different mining pits.  One pit was was brand new, having been started a month ago, well after Casey and his friends had arrived.  The others were at different stages of excavation.  During the months of patrol and standing watch, Casey had learned to tune the green dots out. 

     The red ones?  Those were the 'kaiju', as Foreman Ogata called them, and they set Casey on edge. 

     For the last five weeks, small groups of lizards trickled into the valley, turning into one large herd filling the entire jagged countryside.  After the first sighting, the mercs were no longer waiting on call.  A series of shifts had started with two MechWarriors always mounted and generally on alert. 

     It wasn't too bad when the groups had been small and dispersed.  They maintained their distance from the active pits.  But, once the separate herds merged, they started showing signs of agitation.  Fights broke out more and more frequently among herd members, carrying too close to mining activity. That would be when the mercs would have to rush and drive off the temperamental 'dinos', as Al called them.  It was only a matter of time before they got aggressive enough to attack. 

     This had become a daily ordeal.

     Now, Casey was generally on-edge when in his cockpit.  Any movement on his radar would catch his attention. 

     Some shifts seemed to last for ages. 

     And, he hated it. 

     High strung for just a couple hours, he'd get back inside feeling exhausted.  With no energy to properly unwind, he'd find himself asleep, having dozed off in the middle of a show.  He was too tired to properly enjoy himself when off-shift.  Only in the last few days did Casey start to relax enough to start observing his surroundings again, especially the lizards he could zoom in on with his targeting reticle at nearly a kilometer out.

     Rut was very much what was going on.  The fights would be between males over a female, or a female rejecting the advances of a male.  If he weren't so on-alert, he might laugh at the ongoing drama.   

     Casey spotted strange movement on his sensors.  High above, the new orange and tan Wasp LAM  took off from the Rig's shuttle-rated landing platform.  Simultaneously, he saw the Port side 'Mech Hangar's doors fold open.  Darran's Awesome, Al's Warhammer and Jenn's Crusader stepped out, one-by-one, and started running East.

      Throttling his Griffin up to speed, he steered it to fall in behind them while they headed East by Southeast at the Awesome's best speed.  Casey didn't even have to ask what was going on.  Once they were under way, a familiar voice sounded in his Neurohelmet's headphones.

     "Another fight has broken out near Pit 1.  The new one," Martin said.  “Be warned, Bouncer Group. We have been reading seismic activity one point two three kilometers beyond the pit.  It does not match with mining activity and is too strong to be herd activity.  The area might be unstable.  So, be careful."

     “Some of the herd may be burrowing,” Yamane chimed in.  “If so, this is something we've never seen before.”

     "Roger that, Watchtower,"  Jenn said.  “Bouncer One acknowledges receipt of map marker.  We're heading out.”



     A couple minutes passed as the four BattleMechs raced to the mining pit.  Darran took his Awesome over the road.  Al worked along the rugged left side of the road.  Jenn tottered her Crusader along the ride side of the road, with Casey taking to the outside to her right.

     Once at the pit, Casey could see just off to the left of the huge depression, on a couple of rolling swells, four dinos in a swirling, halting scrap.  He quickly spotted the one female at the center of three males.  She nipped when one approached.  The other two seemed intent on each other, only momentarily distracted by the third's failed at attraction.

     So intent on the fight, already dropping a reticle on the nearest male to trigger a firing solution for his -3M's ER PPC, that Casey was surprised to hear Al make a comment. 

     “Watchtower, Bouncer 3.  Be advised, I have spotted a mound at the designated marker which does not fit topography.”

     “Noted, Bouncer 3,” Martin said.  “Proceed as planned.”

     “Let's get this over with,” Jenn said with a sigh.  “Casey, you take the one on the far right.  Al, the one on the far left.  Darran, you have the next one in on the left.  I'll take the female.  Kaz, keep an eye out for more trouble.”

     In near unison, the Warriors acknowledged with a simple, “Engaging.”

     As had been the case since the first encounter, Al had proven that it merely takes making a shot, even if beyond optimal combat ranges, to send the 'lizzies' scurrying.  They didn't like particle and laser beams.  To date, nobody had to expend ordinance.

     Today was the first time something different broke that norm.

     As was expected, the 'dinos' twitched and writhed to avoid the beams.  But, instead of crying out and running back to the larger herd, they all turned their gaze on the four 'Mechs. 

     The three males made an unfamiliar cry.

     One-by-one, they started racing toward the BattleMechs.

     Like a wave, they surged over the hill, running. The female followed at a more leisurely pace, looking more curious than angry.

     “Oh, shit,” Casey breathed as he came to grips with what he saw.

     Finally, the radio came alive.

     "Here they come," Jenn said, her Crucis lilt a tone of command. "They mean to fight.  Don't let them get close.  Remember the Pixie."

     "Warning," Darran said steadily over Jenn's orders. "All miners to the facility at once! We have bogeys inbound. I repeat..."

     “Try to maintain position,” Jenn advised.  “Whatever happens, don't let them through!"

     Two of Darran's particle beams lanced out. Both nailed a male square in the chest, dropping it to the ground.  It didn't make a sound as it fell.  It didn't move.

     In spite of the way his gut twisted with apprehension, Casey was certain they would have the others put down or running very shortly.

     Lowering his targeting reticle over the one closest to him, he triggered a solution for his Griffin's ER PPC. A moment's hesitation and the beam fired. For a couple heartbeats his target and the right arm gun's muzzle joined with a string of bright blue.

     The 'dino' didn't go down.  Twitching and writhing around, the beam traced up and down the male's body as it tried to track the target point.  The energy spread around the rough hide harmlessly.

     Casey frowned.  Typical long-range shot.  The percentages hadn't been good.

     "Damn," Jenn cursed. "I can't get a good lock on them!"

     Casey glanced left just in time to see clouds of explosions buffet the female.  It just paused, shook itself like a wet dog, and kept coming.  Even further away, Al wasn't faring any better. One particle beam from his Warhammer even missed, failing to track completely when his male target danced under his one-two attack.

     “Al.  Your aren't trying to force an aimed shot, are you?  Remember what I told you.  Let the machine do the work. The computers are smarter and faster than you are.”

     “Nope. They're just that nimble.”

     They were, Casey realized.  Ducking and weaving appeared like natural response.     

     And, they were closing way too fast. The one under his cross-hairs went to all fours, leaping up and down slopes that his Griffin or a ’Mech of any speed would have to trudge over.  At eighty kilometers an hour, the 'dino' would be on top of him in less than thirty seconds.

     The particle cannon was almost recharged. Time was wasting. He quickly toggled another solution, throwing in his missiles. The lizards had tough hides, but Darran's shot proved the Doc's assertion.

     They couldn't take a hit that got under the skin.

     "Yeahah," Darran whooped after dropping a second one.  “Hey, Al.  This is starting to feel like Journey to Hunter's Paradise, don't'cha think?”

     “What!  That low-budget rip-off of Journey to the Center of the Earth?” Al replied.

     The Warhammer managed to land a telling blow on the arm of his target. The lizard stumbled and cried out in pain.

     While keeping half-an-eye on the male racing straight at him and another one the rest of the battle, Casey spotted something, forcing him to blink.

     “Eh,” Al continued.  “No matter the version, the way events are unfolding, the plot would be full of holes and incomplete dialog. The battles would be one-sided with the enemy practically walking into weapons fire to be mowed down. Finally, sadly, the graphics would not be flashy enough to be considered realistic by the average movie-goer.” 

     Casey hadn't felt a quake. However, in the distance, a hill was shaking.

     “At least the Battle ROMs might be entertaining,” Darran pleaded.

     “You might want to give up on the thought of stardom,” Al concluded.

     While he watched the hill rise into the air, a brief thought flitted through Casey's brain that it was the very one Al had pointed out, the one labeled a ‘potential hazard zone’ by the folks at the mining facility.

     “Uh... guys?” Kaz said in a melodic warning. 

     Faster than it should have, the hill stood up on a pair of enormous legs, and lifted up a long wavy tail. It raised a head, and lifted two slender, long arms from its sides. Two glowing blue eyes opened up and glared in Al's general direction.

     In less than two seconds, the hill stood up and took form.  The moment it took shape, his sensors flagged it, highlighting it with a red outline.

     Then it roared.

[Daemion]

Chapter 6, Continued

     That was when the world trembled. 

     A part of Casey presumed that it was the shear volume of the sound that rattled his 'Mech.  When the monster thumped the ground irritably with its tail, his heart skipped a beat.  Then he felt it skip again when the massive lizard took a step, lifting and setting down feet with long, partly webbed toes and round crescent claws.  It glared at all of the mercs with hideous, glowing eyes. Like the lone female, it had large crystalline growths sticking out the back of its neck. They seemed to shimmer the same color blue as that in the stare which froze Casey's soul.

     "What the-," was the first thing anyone said.  It sounded like Darran.

     “Wow,” Al said with a chuckle.  Then he drawled, “How do you work?”

     "That can't be right," Jenn muttered. Louder she added. "HQ, my warbook is tagging this as a Kaiju.  A lizard."

     "We see it," Martin said after a second.

     There was another long pause. Nobody said anything for long seconds while the giant in front of them started to walk their way. 

     "Base," Jenn said with an eerie calm. "Start evacuating.  There's no way we can keep you safe if you stay."

     She was right.  It was humongous, standing nearly as tall as a Union dropship.  It moved with a fluid grace that was uncharacteristic for something that large.  Hills that would block a four story ’Mech from sight were nothing more than soft rises which it stepped over easily.  The long, mammoth tail whipped and jerked over dozens of meters helping keep the large beast upright on its two, skyscraper pillars for hind legs.

     "What about you?" Martin asked quietly.

     "We'll hold it off as long as we can.  Don't worry about us.  Hurry up and get out of here."

     She didn't say it, but Casey was sure she was thinking the same thing he was.  He had only been this afraid twice in his life, maybe three.  The first was looking up at a live BattleMech from the ground.  He never expected to feel that kind of fear in his cockpit, this high up from the ground and closed off from the world.  But he was.  Deep down, he knew that, run or fight, they were very much dead.

     And then a giant, crystalline, lizard face loomed up in front of his cockpit, just meters away.

     Casey practically jumped in his command couch.

     He recognized the male he had been tracking moment before. Slashing out with both forelegs, the lizard cleaved a large dent in his ’Mech’s left breast, scraping away paint with one of its jagged set of claws.  The second missed wide when his Griffin acted on his instinctive impulse to step back.  Two bats of an eye. That was how quick the lizard moved before it reared and lunged, mouth open wide to take a large bite.  Casey got a good view of row upon jagged row, at least six top or bottom, of sharp, uneven, crystalline teeth.  Deep down, some part of him appreciated how the back couple rows were not as sharp, more for grinding.

     Immediately, he brought up the Griffin's left arm, giving it something to chomp down on.

     He tried spearing it between the eyes with the small laser below his cockpit and even a point blank shot with the PPC.  However, the way it jerked at the arm, trying to tear it off, made both shots miss wide.  Finally he wrenched the arm free, leaving large furrows of misshapen metal and large gashes of missing paint.

     Repositioning himself, Casey activated a kick, and was surprised by the immediate result.  He barely heard the snap of the creature's bone.

     It stumbled back and cried out in pain.  The super-sized one, only a half kilometer distant now, cried out sympathetically. 

     The injured micro-lizard - Casey frowned at that irony - took off at a three legged run. 

     He took a parting shot, nailing and flaying flesh from the tail as it ran. 

    Dropping down, the 'tiny-dino' disappeared behind a shallow depression in the slope.    He didn't see it go over the next one.

     "Big one must be the mother," Al said, sounding amused.

     Casey rolled his eyes.

     “Not the time for jokes,” Jenn admonished.

     With his immediate threat out of the way, Casey took in his surroundings.

     The 'baby' Al had injured was also making a hasty retreat, keeping low while Al lobbed a couple of shots at it.

     Concerned that the larger heard might stampede or attack, Casey surveyed the horizon.  To his relief, the other small Kaiju were darting away, scattering out from under the giant's feet as it marched ever closer.

     On the other side of Jenn's LRM contrails, Darran walked his Awesome out to meet the oncoming monster.

     "Darran! What are you doing?" Jenn demanded.

     “I don't plan on dying here,” Darran growled.  “Might as well get into firing range and kill it fast.”

     "I'm gonna buzz the thing, see if I can't distract it and keep it off you,” Kaz said.  “It's not like it can fly.  I can certainly keep out of arms reach.”

     “Good idea,” Jenn said.  “Be careful.”

     Casey quickly ranged the mama lizard.  Percentages were low with it being over half a kilometer away, and closing.  But, he had shots, so he triggered them.

     Jenn's shoulder launchers belched clouds of smoke.  A bat-of-an-eye later, LRMs exploded over a small portion of the mega Kaiju's leg. That was usually enough to make any ’Mech stumble. Momma lizard just kept on coming like nothing happened.

     Casey's own follow-on shots seemed just as futile. 

     So, too the beams from Al's Warhammer.

     Kaz was already flying around the creature's head.  For a moment, his LAM looked like a small bird harassing a person.  The AirMech took a shot with the arm mounted laser and the SRM twin rack from under the nose.  While the shots didn't seem to have any effect on Mamma's big hide, they did get her attention.

     She turned to face the LAM and opened her mouth to roar.  Casey didn't feel the world-shaking noise from before.  Instead, the crystals on the creature's neck glowed blue, arcing electrical energy.  Then a blue beam streaked from between its jaws, slicing at the air as it followed, but never quite reached, Kaz's AirMech.

     "Holy shit!  It can shoot back," Kaz sang.

     "Try to keep on it," Jenn ordered.

     "Are you kidding?  You know that my ride's irreplaceable, right?"

     "Just do it!  If you keep moving, it shouldn't be able to hurt you."

     Casey could almost hear Nguyen's grinding teeth.

     Kaz answered with a disgusted sigh.  “Armored combat.  Right.  It doesn't appear capable of leading or tracking.”

     Jerry kept hovering around the monster, taking another ineffective shot while Jenn, Al, and Darran hammered on it.

     Watching the action unfold, Casey wondered if he really was in a bad movie.  Maybe he was dreaming?   It felt all too real.  Instead of pinching himself to make sure, he leveled his cross hairs over the thing's chest and pulled the triggers.  Dream or no, no reason not to fight back.  Heartbeats later, the smoke from his LRMs clouded the view from his canopy while the beam from the particle cannon burned bright in the haze.

     There was no wire frame for this, no way to indicate damage. The only thing metrics gave him was was a simple outline to track, and where his shots landed.  The monster was sixty meters tall.  Not quite as tall as a Union, she was still huge. So when the smoke cleared Casey took a good long look to see if anything was working.

     Some shots were punching through Mamma's hide.  He could see giant sores where the particle beams and missiles had broken her crusted skin.  However, they were all over the place, and didn't slow her down.  For all of her slender sixty meters, there was just too much of her.  In fact, the solid hits had an unexpected effect. 

     They changed her priority. 

     She immediately turned from the hovering Kaz and looked straight to Darran.

    He was the next closest. 

     She started tromping straight toward him.

     Skidding to a halt, Darran started backing his Awesome away.

     "Come on, Kaz!  Catch its attention," Darran shouted.

     "I'm trying," Kaz whined in reply.

     Kaz's AirMech swooped down right in front of her face, and he let off another laser burst.  She just blinked, flicked a fore paw at him and pushed past when he swerved away, narrowly avoiding the hit.

     "Whoa, whoa," Kaz cried. "That was way too close!  I'm not doing that again!"

     "Kaz," Casey said, with resignation. "Your shots are ineffective.  Why don't you go finish off the two runts?"

     "Bad idea!  Bad idea," Darran cried in protest.

     "No!  Great idea," Jenn blurted, voice tinged with epiphany.  "Damn snitch baby got her attention!  Get one of them to cry out and she'll come after you."

     "Alright! I'm on it," Kaz said with renewed energy.  His ’Mech did a tight turn and swooped down toward one of the hills.

     “No, Kaz,” Darran cried. “We don't know if that's gonna work!”

    Mama Kaiju speared Darran's ’Mech with her blue beam.  Darran shouted, his voice strained, and full of static when his Awesome took the breath shot in the chest.

     “Uh..,” Kaz said with hesitation.

     “It's an order,” Jenn said.  “Do it.”

     "Everyone else, aim for some weak spots," Al said.

     "Like, where?” Casey asked incredulously.

     "Like the head or neck.  Everywhere else she has a lot of muscle.  It'd take forever to cut through that."

      "You mean, like this?" Darran asked.

     Before Casey's next load of missiles fired, he saw two bright blue beams lance up from Darran's Awesome, connecting with moma lizard's face and neck.

     One of the crystals puffed vapor from the hit.  Mamma's eyes glowed bright as she glared down at her attacker. She sputtered and coughed once, then opened her mouth and shot a blue beam right at the tan assault ’Mech.

     The beam wasn't as bright this time.

     Al was on to something.

     This time, Casey fought his training and conditioning, bringing his reticle up to pick the head for his shots.  He had to double-tap the triggers to confirm the called shots, even though percentages showed a sharp decrease in accuracy.

     The view fogged when Casey's LRMs launched.

     Still he watched on the three-sixty monitor.  Every friendly was outlined clearly.  From his vantage point, Casey couldn't see the damage Darran's machine was taking from the breath attacks.  But, the outlines showed the armor damage as minor. 

     Then mama lifted a foot, leaned in and brought it down on the Awesome. 

     It was a testament to the older pilot's skill that he managed to avoid being crushed entirely.  In fact only the ends of the claws raked down the front.

     Still, it was a hard hit, making the Awesome stagger when the foot hit the ground. Sensors painted heavy damage all over its chest. Not enough for breaches yet.  But, a couple more hits like that and Darran would be in trouble.

     After another targeting solution up towards the creature's head, Casey could only watch. Darran tried to back away, taking a pair of wild shots.  Meanwhile, first Al's Warhammer, and then Jenn's Crusader, fired into the monster with their heaviest weapons.

     Jenn's missiles weren't doing any good, simply peppering mama lizard's skin. Every time they flashed, she twitched away, fouling their blasts. Now that Casey thought about it, his weren't doing much better.

     Too late to cancel that fire order, he thought.

     But, then, what did it matter? Maybe it was doing some good. What was some extra ammo if he was dead? This was do or die!

     Once again, smoke clouded out in front of his Griffin and twenty rockets flew up to sparkle harmlessly off moma lizard, followed shortly by the flash of his particle cannon.

     Darran, through sensors or visual inspection, wasn't in good shape. This time, his ’Mech stumbled and fell from the savage stomping slash that he received. He was quickly on his feet, and hurrying with best speed away from the Kaiju, but his slow Awesome wasn't covering much ground, in spite of the appearance of a flat-out run. 

     It didn't take mama lizard but a step or two to practically be on top of him once again.

      "****** you, you ****** lizzie," Darran snarled.  "I just got this ’Mech!  I won't let you, or anyone else, take it away from me!"

     "Got one," Kaz cried.

     True to his word, Casey heard a baby's plaintive cry.  But, mama either didn't notice or didn't care.  Her eyes were on the Awesome. 
     Everyone fired again when they could.  Like her offspring, she twitched at some attacks, forcing them to fail, but would then be caught by others.  Even though she was practically scoured with brown, bleeding scars, the damage didn't slow her.

      Mama was on a rampage.

     Mere cuts and bruises weren't going to stop her.

     Again she lashed out at Darran, and again his ’Mech toppled to the ground.

     "Stay down," Al shouted.

     "What?" Darran shouted incredulously.

     "Don't move!" Al punctuated each word.

     "Yeah! Play dead," Jenn added. "Maybe it'll leave you alone."

     "Yeah?” Darran didn't sound convinced.  “Or, it could eat me!"

      "That won't happen," Al said.

     "But...!"

     "Stay down," Jenn and Al shouted at once.

     Casey watched in amazement. 

     When Darran failed to move, mama watched the downed Awesome a second, snorted, and then turned to Al when he punched into her with his particle cannons. She stepped over Darran's downed ’Mech to deal with the new threat.

     "Kaz," Jenn cried.  "Try it again!"

     "I'm trying, but this little bugger won't sit still!"

     "Hurry up," Al sang, while backing his Warhammer away from the looming giant lizard, still keeping her in his sights.

     Once she had passed, Darran pushed his ’Mech to its feet, cursing in the process. Just before his damaged machine turned away, Casey saw some really deep scars up and down the ’Mech's chest. There was one really deep rent, and Casey winced at the coolant bleeding through.

     "Trash up my ’Mech, will you," Darran all but shouted.  "I'll show you, you damn monster!"

     Three azure beams seared the sky for a brief second, angling up, and connecting across mama lizard's jaw, neck and head. Casey saw brown ichor fly from her adam's apple.

     His own firing solution triggered, clouding his vision. Through the smoke, he could barely make out the giant creature's silhouette, only made clear by the sensor outline.  The form slowed down, standing in place.
 
     Then she started to topple.

     Faster and faster, mama fell toward the ground.

     Casey had a brief flash of insight regarding how the ground reacted to something that heavy hitting.

     He barely had time to grab the piloting stick before his command couch dropped out from under him.

     Practically tossed from his seat, he had no leverage and felt his ’Mech slip hard to the left.  Quickly hunching up, he grabbed his harness. The Griffin landed hard on its shoulder and he bounced around in his cockpit some more.

     Not taking the time to nurse the sharp pain in his side, he quickly grabbed the piloting stick and worked his ’Mech into standing. 

     The dust from mama's fall still filled the air. 

     Bringing up thermals, Casey saw the creature's prostrate form. 

     She was moving but not making any signs to get up.

     "Is... is that it?" Kaz asked.

     "I don't know," Al said. "She's still moving, so I wouldn't get too close."

     "Hahaaah! You bet it is," Darran hollered.  "See that?  She's choking on her own blood. She's as good as dead."

     "Guess we should put her out of her misery, then," Al stated quietly.

     "No!  Let her bleed out.  She deserves it," Darran said. The venom in his voice almost oozed from Casey's earphones.

     "No she doesn't,” Al said softly.  “She was just doing what all mothers do."

     Casey watched Al line up his particle cannons on the beast's head and fire. 

     Two shots and she quit moving.

     Nobody else on the ground stirred.

     The whole world seemed to stand still for seconds.

     Seconds turned into minutes.

     "We did it," Casey said, breaking the silence.  "We actually fought this monster and came out alive. Someone pinch me, because I swear this is a dream."   

     "I know," Jenn said. "I thought we were dead for sure."

     "Maybe we are," Kaz whispered.

     They sat in silence for a few minutes longer.

     "Well, I guess we should go put down the little'uns,"  Jenn said at last.

     “Might want to start culling the herd,” Darran growled. "God knows we don't want any more like her running around in a few years."

[Daemion]

Chapter 6, Continued

     Al and Jenn kept watch on the herd as Casey escorted Darran and the retreating mining crew back to the facility.  But, as their 'Mechs strolled along, Casey could see the dinos dispersing in stampedes away from the mining pits and central complex.  Nobody was sure exactly how old the mama Kaiju was, but the lizzies didn't seem to feel safe around something that could take her down.

     “Man!  We just lived a fricken monster flick,” Darran drawled.

     “Yeah,” Casey agreed.  “And, nothing to show for it other than our scars and memories.”

     “Yeah,” Darran replied, sounding tired.
   


     In the 'Mech bay, after the decontamination spray-down, Casey met his tech on the gantry overlooking the Griffin's left arm.  Once they were sure that the damage was all superficial, he joined Darran on the ground.

     “What's the damage?” Casey asked.

     Darran soured.  “Two sinks are scrapped.  That's gonna tank my rate of fire.”

     “I'm sure Damien will fix it when we get back.  Company 'Mech, after all.”

     “Yeah!  When we get back,” Darran replied sarcastically.  “It's early March, and we don't fly until August.” 

     “Right,” Casey said with an amused smirk.

     Turning to head toward the lift into the living decks, the two warriors ran into Martin.  He strolled right toward them.

     “What brings the boss down to our level?” Casey asked, still amused and showing it.

     Martin cringed, his smile weak. “I came down here to thank you.  I'll be thanking each of you personally.  You stood against fearsome odds instead of running.  You could have died out there, but you didn't run.”

     “Where would we have gone?” Darran asked.  There's nowhere else to run to on this rock.  Fight was our only option.”

     Martin nodded.  “Regardless, you guys earned a name for yourselves, today.  I know your group doesn't have one yet, but you should suggest to your boss to adopt one.”  Martin's brow furrowed.  “Damien Strangeman can't possibly be his real name, can it?”

     “It's not,” Casey admitted.

     Martin nodded, giving the two warriors a shrewd look.  “You're like the last group, using aliases to maintain anonymity.”

     “Pretty much,” Casey said.

     “Well, as I said, you 'Strange Men' have made a name for yourselves.  So, thank you.”

     With that, Martin turned to leave.  Since he was headed back to the lift, Casey and Darran followed. 

     Darran leaned in to Casey, and muttered, "Damien's Strangemen? Kinda catchy, don't'cha think?  Might pass that along."

     Casey deflated with a sigh. “I don't think I can be a part of a group with that kind of name.  It'll need some work"

     With a mild smirk, Darran shrugged and resumed his normal gate.

     "I take it you're gonna dissect that thing?" Darran asked, looking at Martin.

     "Probably mount its skull on the wall," Casey quipped.  “Would make for interesting decor.”

     “Cash is gonna have a field day, that's for sure.” Martin said with a grin as he boarded the lift.  He eyed the two warriors, then rubbed his beard, deep in thought.  “It really is a shame that you'll have nothing to show for what you did today.  I haven't heard of anyone else doing what you did.”

     Casey exchanged glances with Darran.

     Martin looked at them.  “Screw it.  That monster's a game-changer.  I have to report it to corporate.  We might not be able to maintain operations here.  So, I'll let you pick something from the corpse.  Something small.  Bones, claws and teeth?  Pick out and clean off a few trophies.  You'll still be under NDA, so you can't tell anyone where it came from or what it came off of.  But, I imagine that'll give you an air of mystique and menace."

     Martin turned to stare at the floor indicator, looking pleased with himself.  “I'll let the doc know.  He can help you.”

[Daemion]

That ends Chapter 6.

RTF attached. I had to change the font because Open Office was having problems with Calibri especially with quotation marks.

More to come.

[Daemion]

Interlude

     Diaprepes, one of the ten kings of Atlantis, fifteenth in his line, stretched out his senses into space-time around him while he performed his daily meditation.  His consciousness expanded out past the globe-topped spire that was his palace. Out, below, and over the small tropical island that housed it like a plant decorated display platform in a blue pool his senses went.   As his island home shrank, he watched the horizon curl, the earth turn to magma, and the air lose color as it thinned.

     The world of Adeianós shrank away, and with it the sole moon that was the Atlantean colony ship that ha brought his people to this world.  He felt, more than saw, the crust and pockmarks on its fifteen-millennia-old hull.  Both orbs shrank rapidly into colored dots before his senses.  Visually, they vanished, but Diaprepes knew where they were.

     As the distance grew, so did the rate of expansion.  Adeianos’s star, came into his sphere of sensing, and quickly started to shrink.

     Once he had expanded out to the edge of the system, something caught his attention.  Turning, he focused on something new.  An object had breached the seal of reality.  Focusing on it further, a light hit his senses.  It was warm and bright.  He could feel it even though it was small with extreme distance. 

     As soon as he found it, he knew he had to investigate.  Ranging it, he discovered it well past his kingdom’s borders, beyond the edge of the empire.  He noted the star so he could find it once he came out of meditation. 

     The system was a surprise.  It was old Helios. 

     Knowing that, Diaprepes didn’t waste time with a cool-down.  His senses snapped back into his body as he opened his eyes.  His skin returned the cool feeling inside his empty meditation chamber.  There were no shapes to greet his eyes but the smooth, curved walls that formed the orb atop his palace.  The light reflected onto the walls from the edges of the depressed circular ceiling above.  Standing up, Diaprepes stepped to the center of the upraised circular platform that formed the floor. 

     He focused, and reality shifted around him instantly.  He didn’t need to move, but it appeared to his eyes as if he had moved through a gate into the palace proper at the base of the tower.  To anyone who observed him, they described it as if he simply vanished or winked into existence.

     That was the power of his lineage.  When Poseidon sired his five sets of male twins, each one was imbued with a unique ability.  The powers of each twin set were opposite.  The legend went that when each twin came into manhood, Poseidon took each child aside and whispered something in the boy's ear, and that unlocked the power that each king wielded. 

     Diaprepes the First, so it went, was the last to receive his power.  His brother, Azaes, came away with the ability to take energy and convert it back to matter, or convert matter to energy.  For most, it appeared he had the power of fire.  But, when Poseidon took Diaprepes aside, he did not speak a word when reaching up to his son's ear.  Pulling away, Diaprepes was confused.  But, then his power awakened. 

     He could manipulate absence.  It generally came in the form of teleportation.  The space outside the fabric of reality, the void, was his domain, through which he could move at will.   

     That power would be the salvation of the early empire.  Having to fend off invasion after invasion, the kings concluded that it was time to leave the Earth behind, find a place of their own, and combine their powers to make that place a paradise.  After the other kings used their powers to locate and build a world next to a star similar to Helios, complete with life, breathable air, and a fair amount of  water, Diaprepes I used his power to transport the island.

     In the thousands of years since, the empire had expanded.  Each Diaprepes since used his power to aid in linking each world by teleporting ships between star systems.  He did the same. 

     Fully aware of all things he took into the space outside the universe as part of the teleportation process, finding one he didn't oversee was worrisome.  And, this one came in.  He hadn't felt it leave and then re-enter.  As far as he knew, their very reality could be under invasion.



     The palace proper was wide and spacious.  High, decorated stone ceilings were supported  by ornate, fluted columns.  His family's colors, deep dark navy blue with no ornation, hung in the form of banners along the walls and streaming carpets along the floor. 

     He came out in the throne room, startling the aid on shift.  The salty breeze drifted gently through tall open windows that lined the side walls. The plants in front of them stirred and the banners swayed in a slow dance.

     “May I help you sire?” the man asked after recovering and bowing.

     “I discovered something that needs investigating, something only my talents will be useful.  I am departing now.  Please let Autolycus know.  I have no instructions.”

     The aid bowed and turned to leave about the same time that Diaprepes teleported into the heart of his personal ship.  It responded to his presence, powering up.  The holographic walls lit up first, revealing an interior similar to his meditation chamber.  But, they vanished, leaving a direct view to the ship's exterior.

     The landing platform sat in the center of a square plaza only half a kilometer away from the base of the tower.  He had a clear view of the plaza that spanned the entire distance between the two.  Diaprepes let his gaze linger on the decorative columns and the different buildings that were partly obscured on either side.  It was a scene he was fond of, and hoped to see it again, soon.

     Diaprepes had no idea what he would find.  The chance that he could actually die, or be captured were slim possibilities when facing the unknown.  After a few seconds, he inhaled deeply and went into meditation. 

     Expanding his mind, he shrank the sphere of his ship into his being.  Locating ancient Helios was easy, the light of the new arrival still projecting like an unending beacon.  With some extra concentration, he reached out, and opened the door to the void.  Once it was open wide enough, his body – the ship – slipped through.

[Daemion]

Interlude, Continued

     Diaprepes arrived at one of Helios's polar regions, which he found interesting.  The cradle star was very far away, though still very distinct among every other star.  He could barely make out the blue orb of Gaia as nothing more than another star in the sky.

     He quickly located the intruder, barely seven stadia away.  To his surprise, it wasn't just one vessel, as he had expected.  Three ships, identical in all ways except what was attached near their waste, were busy pointing oddly domed noses toward the Helios star.  They almost reminded him of his own tower, looking like candelabra, with legs on one end, a thin pole for a body, and an egg-like dome flanked by two circular gem-like domes as a head. 

     Around the center, all three had what Diaprepes guessed to be large shuttles.  A couple were huge orbs like his ship.  Many more were brick-like, with wings sprouting from one end, two sets of matching pairs.  There were lots of those, and they reminded him of the ships most people used in Atlantis to fly over great distances, though these were not as sleek.

     Diaprepes quickly studied the signatures left over from their entry into his world.  He was puzzled to find that they were Atlantean.  He couldn't believe that, considering how unrefined and undecorated these ships were.  Atlanteans had a penchant for high craftsmanship which he did not see among these, so if they were Atlantean, they weren't of the Atlantis with which he was familiar.

     What was even odder was that the signatures felt familiar, like something he would bestow, and not something from a different king out of his line.  He had studied the patterns of the prior Diaprepes kings, and there was a trait that set each one apart.  These also spoke out a message.

     There was only one order that made sense, and it read: 'Do Not Follow'.

     A warning, or a threat?

     His next surprise was that the beacon that had attracted him hadn't grown with distance.  It remained small, the light coming from within one of the orb ships.  He concluded that it was a special device that allowed the three ships to come to his realm.  There was the faint possibility it belonged to a creature, or even a person, but Diaprepes felt that was too unlikely.

     He was about to investigate further, but he didn't have any time.

     The long needle ships winked out of existence, each folding time and space around it like a magician flamboyantly concealing himself under a cloak.  Seeing where the void still peaked through into his universe, he could still follow.  He had to decide fast.  Head the warning?  Or follow, in case it was some odd trick?

     Seeing the tear mending quickly, Diaprepes decided he had to follow. He had to know what kind of threat they posed.  He reached out and pulled his vessel into the realm outside reality.

     Immediately, outside the fabric of the universe, he lost them. 

     There was no visible trace.  However, he could feel their old path.  It was a certainty in his mind.  He pressed his vessel deeper into the aether. Suddenly his ship started to shake and tremble.  This was something he had only read about, catalogued by the first Diaprepes.  He had cautioned his heirs never to try this except in extreme circumstances.

     This felt like an extreme circumstance.  He pressed on.

     Never before had Diaprepes felt such turmoil.

     Out in the sightless depths of nothing, he glimpsed the giant waves.  He instinctively understood them to the barriers of other realities.  They flashed and thundered where they collided.  It reminded him of a violent storm at sea, an experience he had had only once in his life when he was young. 

     He had taken a curiosity to what other people did for a living, and had tagged along on a fishing expedition.  It was something that common people in his kingdom did on a daily basis.  The storm had come upon them quickly.

     Like then, he was disoriented, unable to fight the forces that propelled his ship.  Like then, he wanted to warp back to safety, back home.  Unlike then, he fought that urge and pressed on, following the spiritual trail of the three ships.

     He took a quick second to look back, to find the entry to his own realm to ease his mind.  He couldn't see it any more.  Not even the trail he followed remained back the way he had come.   It was lost in the chaos.

     For what felt equally like minutes and multiple eternities, he fought on through the waves, avoiding collisions and cresting wave heads as he followed the path.  He couldn't see the end.  Even with his best possible speed, the trail was fading quickly.

     And, then it happened.  He reached the trail's end, out in the middle of nowhere.  For once, caught in between dozens of realities, far away from his own, Diaprepes was lost.

     Diaprepes searched about, looking for the beacon.  More minutes and eternities passed with no sign of which way to go.  He felt despair growing.  He pressed forward along the last direction the path had taken him, haltingly, hoping he might be able to pick up the trail anew.

     Finally, he quit searching.  Knowing it wouldn't help him to give up and remain outside realities, he had to decide.  He could try going back the way he came, and try to find his home.  Or, he could choose an immediately close reality, and start hopping to find his own. 

     He had decided the universe-hopping strategy was the best.  He randomly chose one, and started toward it.  That was when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something which he immediately recognized.

     He saw the beacon.  That wonderful light caught his void-sight, and it did not waiver.  It led into a point on one of the waves of reality adjacent to his random choice.  Diaprepes quietly blessed the maker of realities for this boon.

     Without hesitation, he urged his ship toward it, getting the feel for the tides and waves of the aether storm around him.  Unerringly, he zeroed in on the rip in the void from where the beacon shined.  A vortex grabbed his ship and pulled it into time and space. 

     There was a pattern to this hole which Diaprepes had seen before, and he knew it for what it was.  This was where the invaders had come from.  This was their home.

     And, then he was through.

     His ship was suddenly quite still.  The turmoil of the void between universes was instantly gone.  In what amounted to no time at all, but he had perceived as minutes, his shiny pearl of a ship slid from one universe into another.

     Diaprepes had never done this before.  He hadn't even contemplated such a possibility.  There was nothing from the line of Kings before, writings or lore, about the real power bestowed on the first Diaprepes and his heirs.  As far as he knew, he was the first, and maybe the last. 

     He had no idea when or where he was.  There was no way to tell how the other realities lined up in time with his own.  The beacon had also vanished, leaving Diaprepes to wonder if he was truly in the world of the invaders, and he had supposed.

     Without the beacon, and no base-line to use, he had no way to navigate.

     It was time to start getting some bearings.  Diaprepes came out of his trance to activate his sensors.  He wanted to build a visual presentation of his surroundings.

     Suddenly, he was knocked to the floor.  His ship had jumped violently with an impact that still rang through its hull.  But, it happened only the once, and stopped.

     Gravity.

     Not the artificial force inside the ship, but outside.  Pushing himself to his feet, he mentally called for the holodisplay.  All he saw was darkness, black and complete.  Activating his ship's exterior luminescence, he saw glass reflecting his own ship back at him.  At his feet, it was cracked, fractured where the round bottom of his vessel had crushed its surface.

     His stomach felt achingly empty, like a hole to the void had opened up inside his gut and was sucking out his organs.  He wanted to sit down, to drop to his knees, he was so shocked.

     The vortex had jumped him deep into solid rock.

     The vortex with a pattern he recognized.  A pattern with his unique signature.  A pattern only he could have devised.

     Diaprepes quickly concluded exactly how everything had set into place.  By his own hand, he had led the invaders between universes.  It was evident in the pattern.  By his own hand he had trapped himself here. 

     By his own hand.

     How could he have been so blind?  He would have to puzzle out the different possible reasons he might have had to do such a thing.  For now, he needed to get his bearings.

     In this realm, Diaprepes was blind.  He could enter the void, but could not navigate it.  He didn't have the skill or raw power granted by Poseidon to the original to continually wander. 

     He was trapped.

     But he had hope.  That pattern on those ships were his.  It had been a warning.  He would see it again.

     He had no time to waste, even though, ironically, he had all the time in the world.  Shutting down all unnecessary systems, Diaprepes stepped to the center of the command chamber and seated himself for a trance.  Using his own mental energies, he formed a void bubble around himself, sealing his body outside of time.  This way, he could preserve himself for an eternity.

     He wouldn't have to wait that long.  If he interpreted events correctly, he would see the beacon again.  When he did, finally he would be free.  Then, he could go home to Atlantis, or explore the multiverse.

     But, he had to see what kind of universe he was in.  Reaching inward, he felt outward.  Those ships could propel themselves through the void.  It was that kind of disturbance which he sought.  But, the beacon had vanished upon entering this world.  It was possible that he had been flung into the past, before the invention of such ships.

     He mentally prepared himself for silence, a long, long quiet.

     To his surprise, he found a ship, though not the one with the beacon.  Then another.  And, many, many more.  Almost on a daily basis, he felt disturbances in the void.

     They were close.

     Close, and scattered. 

     He never felt as many ripples, so much star travel, back in Atlantis.  Seeing this, he felt dismayed.  Should these people ever start to cross universes, Atlantis would need to be ready if they proved hostile.

     He felt them.  He felt their frequency.  In this way, Diaprepes gained a new skill.  In the infinite absence of time, where ships, crew and passengers occupied his domain, he learned to listen.  He heard their thoughts.  Eventually, he learned to actively converse with them.  This was how he learned the scope and nature of the reality he was in.

     Through dream in the void, in timeless sleep, Diaprepes reached out, searching, waiting, confident it wouldn't be long.

     Then the Beacon appeared.


Author's Note: Helios is the Greek word for Sol, our sun.  Since Atlantis is best know through Plato, a Greek, I decided to use that for nomenclature, even though the legend was supposedly an Egyptian legend.  I think Plato went so far as to suggest the names of the actual Atlantean personae he used were Greek approximations.

Same goes with Diaprepes and his people.  They speak their own unique language that isn't English or Greek.

Stadion is the singular form of stadia, and is a proper unit of Greek measurement.  It is between 607 to 630 feet.  I fudged a little and rounded down to an even 600. 

[Daemion]

Scroll up to read the second half of the Interlude.

RTF attached.


Some of you might have an idea which story I'm leading into.  The Rock of Dreams.  However, I plan on some significant changes to events outside the two battles.

Work has also picked up, which will be slowing me down.  Be assured, I plan on posting the next chapter.  There's a lot more to come. 

In the meantime, let me know how I'm driving.  :thumbsup: