A Fist Full of C-Bills - Character Background thread

[Malich]

Fallon II
Federated Suns
30-12-3032

The wind whipped across the open, concrete landing pad of the spaceport raising more dust and grit that stung Johannes Sergio Rabagliati's face despite the hooded poncho over his head and the scarf wrapped to cover his mouth and nose. Standing on the ramp of the Union Class Dropship "Stainless Chrome" offered little protection from either the stifling heat or the vicious windblown sand but did at least offer him the chance to get off planet finally.

The drawback was going to be the same as he had encountered with the "Tenacious Lander", "Sally B" and the "Bucket". He let out an audible sigh and dropped his head to shield his eyes a little until the captain of the ship, or at least his representative, came to see why a lone, hooded figure was standing on the ramp of his ship.

Johannes looked around the main hold. It was spartan compared to the Union's he had sailed in as a soldier. The BattleMech gantries that were used to hold 'Mechs during transit were still present but much of the equipment used to perform heavy maintenance were missing though several large overhead cranes had been fitted to help move cargo around the bay. From a gantry round the top of the bay a woman in spacer's coveralls slammed open a hatch and stomped around the grid metal walkway. she made it to a steeply angled ladder, grabbed both handrails and kicked off with both feet. She slid the 20 feet to the bay deck landing and landed in a way that carried the forward momentum in a way that made it look smooth and practiced.

"Danson, you better get that damn computer glitch fixed before i get back up there or so help me god i'm going to dump you on this dirtball."

A male torso poked round the hatchway high above the bay and a hand waved a wordless dismissal of the barked order.

"And who are you?"

The woman was striking. Short, but striking. Her hair was buzz cut short and flame red but that seemed to just add to the air of toughness she was using to fill up the space around her. Her coveralls were unmarked and left it hard to tell what shape she was underneath but her entrance to the bay hinted at power.

"A potential client. And you are?"

The woman scowled and then took a deep breath, ducking her chin to her chest as she did so. As she raised it again he saw her force herself to calm down.

"Sorry, we had a pump under compensate during the run down here. Got down to the planet to find we'd melted a chunk of the number three nacelle. All down to a computer glitch THAT SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE FIXED THREE MONTHS AGO." She turned as she shouted this last part and aimed the comment back towards the gantry hatch. "I'm Captain Molly Steele." She stopped, a look of challenge crossed her face.

He was thankful for the mask that hid the smile that formed at one corner of his mouth. Stainless Chrome Molly Steele. He suspected her parents must have had a funny sense of humour. Thankfully, so had his.

"I'm Johannes Sergio Rabagliati, most folks just call me Mutt. I'm looking for passage from here to Idlewind."

"That's way over the border in Drac territory. Long way to go for a single passenger and no guarantee that i'll pick up anything else on the way. It'll be expensive."

"I hope it won't just be me. I'm putting together a little expedition and am planning to recruit a few other people to help me."

"Expedition for what?"

"I have the location of a Star League outpost that supposedly was left on the planet when Kerensky pulled out. I think it might still hold something of value."

She stopped for a second and looked at him. "You're kidding!"

"Not one bit. I have a family heirloom from a relative who was on planet at the time of the pull out. It doesn't list specific locations but there's enough loose references to give me a rough idea of where to look."

"Surely it's been stripped by now? It's been centuries."

"The book says there were two facilities on the planet. A decoy and the primary. I'm hoping the primary is still there. That's what the references lead to."

"And what's there?"

Mutt looked down at the ground. "I don't know. The book just talks about the facility."

"Let's go talk in my office."

[Malich]

Captain's Cabin
Dropship "Stainless Chrome"
Fallon II
Federated Suns
31-12-3032

"So, let me get this straight. You have a treasure map, an honest to goodness treasure map. X marks the spot and all that jazz?"

The captain's cabin was nothing to write home about. A room no bigger than Mutt's old bedroom but pulling duty as living quarters, head and office. The desk was strewn with papers ranging from customs forms to daily logs, the bed was strewn with clothes and the floor was strewn with the overflow from both. Mutt had expected more but something suggested this was not the normal state of the room.

"not quite. I have a 300 year old diary written in near illegible cursive by a man who I suspect was not 100% in his right mind about the whereabouts of a secret Star League facility that he claims was wiped from the records."

"that's not filling me with a huge amount of confidence Mr Rabagliati." Captain Steele swept a drift of papers from the desk into a box file and propped her riding boot clad feet up on the desk. "So, explain to me again why you think this diary means anything?"

Mutt reached into his poncho, liberally adding more dust to the floor of the cabin, and pulled out a wooden pistol case and a data disk. The disk he threw onto the table and the pistol case he placed on his lap. He popped the latches and pulled out a plain looking laser pistol. Steele's feet hit the deck with a thump as she rocked forward in her chair again.

"Is that...?"

"A Star League Mark II laser pistol, standard side arm of the Star League Defence Forces.  This one i found with the diary. The case is a presentation case that came with it. Take a look at the data chip."

Steele powered up her tablet and slotted the chip home. The chip had a single file on it which she opened.

"Star League Defence Force Idlewind, Facility No2, Quartermaster's stock take record, third quarter, 2784. This is a record for the facility?"

"Just keep looking." Steele scrolled through the equipment lists. Parts, weapons, ammunition, uniforms, medical supplies, vehicles, shuttles, BattleMechs, the list went on and on. Mutt passed the pistol to her. "Check the record for that serial number."

"Pistol, Laser, MkII, Serial number GF-138-2707F. Base Armoury, Cabinet four, rack B."

"This pistol was in that rack, on that base, as General Kerensky was removing 80% of the SLDF out to who knows where. The diary tells me that the base was shut down, information purged, and that it was left as a resupply post if the SLDF ever came back to the Inner Sphere."

"And you think it's still there?"

"I think that if even a fraction of it is still there it's worth finding out."

"And how do you plan on funding this little expedition?"

That was the question Mutt had been dreading. "I have limited funding. I have enough to fuel the Dropship, pay for passage and probably enough to feed a few dozen people for the trip and a few months afterwards. The rest of it will have to be shares in the proceeds for anyone who signs up."

Steele looked up to the ceiling, Mutt didn't know specifically what she was thinking but he knew the look of someone just offered the best deal they'd heard in a while.

"What's my deal?"

"A half share for each of the crew, a share for yourself, and two shares for the ship before overheads. If i'm right that it should see you more than covered for wear and tear with a nice pot left over.  Pilots, MechWarriors and vehicle commanders or owners get a full share, crewmen a hand share. There's a few specialists I might need to reward a little higher but that will depend on the calibre. My direct team get a share each and I get ten because i have to outlay a bit and the information is mine."

"That sounds mostly fair, I want 5 for the ship. This bucket isn't cheap to run and I could use some funds to overhaul her."

"Four, we both know that's where the bartering will end up."

"Done. And if we get there and there's nothing..."

"Then i think paying you might be the least of my worries."


Fallon Tribune
02-01-3033
AM Edition
Classified Section

WANTED: Skilled warriors, technicians and expedition crew for investigative expedition to DC space. No combat expected but maybe required. Must have own tools of the trade. Room, Board and Transportation provided to destination. Payment by shares of any valuables recovered. For details contact Johannes @ Box 270.

[Malich]

Flashback

Hunter's Valley
New Sudets Mountains
Fallon II
16-07-3028

The Rifleman was ancient, it smelled ancient, it moved like a rheumatic old man and every step made it groan like a tree about to fall in the wood. The Engine ran warm, the gyro worked two steps out of every three and there was a worrying grind from the D2j tracking array that caused it to occasionally fail to rotate. But the 'Mech was his finally, if he could keep it. Mutt was the eight member of his family to pilot the Rifleman since she passed through the gates of the Kalon factory over three centuries before. The 'Mech was a bit like Grandfather's old broom. It had had three new heads and four new handles, but it was still the same broom. Mutt shifted in the command chair, trying to find a comfortable spot.

"I swear, this must be the only original part on this thing." Mutt adjusted the gain on the sensor system again and sighed. "Control, this is Four Two. If there's anything out here I can't see it. Any word from Four One?"

"Four Two. Negative. Four One had something but they lost it at the mouth of the pass. You and Four Four are to move through the pass and flush them through."

Mutt didn't trigger the mic "Of course we are." He looked to the Wasp riding next to him and sighed again.

"Charlie, we're heading in, push ahead a bit an keep your eyes open If someone really did land round here this is a perfect place for an ambush."

"Roger Four Two, moving out."

The wasp took off at speed for a minute, putting a few hundred meters between the 'Mechs before he slowed to match the slow, pondering steps of the Rifleman.  The valley was closing in,  narrowing to less than a hundred meters and strewn with boulders that made the going even more difficult. Mutt watched the wasp enter the boulder field.... and disintegrate. A laser beam swept across the 'Mech's left leg, piercing the armour and touching off the ammunition stored there. The pilot never had a chance to eject as hundreds of kilograms of ammunition and rocket fuel created a fireball that filled the valley.  From the shadows at the edge of the valley and sheltered from the scanners stepped a huge Stalker class BattleMech and a small, but no less deadly, Dragon. Mutt triggered a long burst from both autocannons that rattled rounds off the stalker's armoured hide and the rocks around it but he knew it was going to be wasted effort.

"Control this is Four Two, Contact. Stalker and Dragon class 'Mechs at the pass." Mutt triggered the twin large lasers and felt the heat in the cockpit spike almost unbearably. The Rifleman slowed as the heat affected the control circuits and myomer. Missiles began to rain down around him, flaking armour from the Rifleman.

"Four Two. Roger, can you hold for three zero minutes. Reinforcements are on route."

Lasers and autocannon shells began to rip into the armour as well. Alarms sounded warning of breaches to the chest and damage to the engine. Computerised voices informed  him of systems going off line and of heat build up. Mutt ignored them and kept reversing, autocannons ineffectively chattering at the approaching enemy forces. The 'Mechs were unmarked, appeared to be functional and were more than a match for his heirloom Rifleman.

"Core breach imminent."

"Of course it is. This is Four Two, punching out."

Mutt slammed himself back in the command chair and reach over his head to pull the face shield down that would also engage the ejection mechanism. In less than a second there that a bang, a rush of cold air and then acceleration that tried to force his spine down through the chair. Two second later he was floating on the ejection system's parachute towards the rocky top of the valley wall as the two raider BattleMechs stomped north towards Four One.

[Stormcrow]

42nd Avalon Hussars Officer's Main Ballroom
Fallon II
Federated Suns
31-12-3032
2357

Jocasta, resplendent in her crimson red silk evening gown, made her way around the ballroom with a glass of champagne. She had been here for less than thian hourrty minutes, having arrived fashionably late for the New Years Eve festivities. She was here as the invited guest of Colonel Anton Moncrief, the G-2 for the 42nd Avalon Hussars, for whom she had done some analysis for. The reason she was so late is that she didn't want to be dragged into long conversations with a bunch of stuffy officers and their wives. The lot of them were absolute dullards. True, they were intelligent and well-versed, but dullards nonethless.

When she came to this world to retire some eighteen months ago, she thought this world would be just right for her and husband, Ruben. But within weeks, her husband had emptied their joint accounts and was caught trying to flee Fallon II with some little bint that he met at one of the local coffee houses. It's been six months since her divorce was finalized and Ruben had been sentenced to tens years in prison. She was bored, bored out of her skull. She needed a new challenge, something that would make her feel alive again. Hopefully that something would take her off of this planet and erase the bitter memories of it.

She came back to the real world as the crowd started the countdown on the final seconds of 3032. As the countdown approached zero, she ardently hoped that 3033 would be a better year. As the orchestra struck up 'Auld Lang Syne', she finished her glass of champagne and made her way for the exit.

[Malich]

FLASHBACK

Office of the Commandant
Ian Davion Barracks
Port Matilda Militia Facility
Port Matilda
23-07-3028

Militia commandant General Irlam Waters looked over the report that Mutt had dropped on his system the night before and then raised his eye to stare at Mutt.

"This is a fine report Lieutenant Rabagliati. Well written, concise and covering all the salient details."

Mutt smiled and mentally uncrossed his fingers, thinking that if the General agreed with the report he would agree with the conclusions too.

"Alas, I cannot agree with the conclusions."

Mutt mentally kicked himself for jinxing it. "In what way sir?"

"While I agree your unit was overwhelmed and that you were inadequately supported at the time of the ambush I am afraid that it is the conclusion of the JAG corps that the support provided to you was adequate in general and that had you held as requested you would have been fine. Therefore, the extenuating circumstances clause on your contract with the militia. Therefore we shall not be replacing your BattleMech either from the salvage taken from the raiders or from central supplies."

Mutt looked across the desk aghast at what he had just been told. "Excuse me Sir, but did the investigating officer happen to mention how I was supposed to hold against two BattleMechs, the lightest of which equalled my weight and the other which our massed me by twenty five tons?"

"It was determined that if you had turned and broken off the engagement the raiders would have turned and headed for Four One."

"So, I was to expose my light, rear armour to a heavier enemy and hope they didn't just blow me to hell." Mutt felt his temper spiking and fought to rein himself in. "So what am I supposed to do now?"

"You'll receive the standard payout should you choose to resign you commission to the Militia. Or you could change to an infantry commission, or a technical one?"

"You'll forgive me for saying, Sir, that none of those are really acceptable to me as a MechWarrior. That Rifleman has been in my family for nearly three centuries. My Four times great grandfather bought it fresh off the Kalon line in a moment of family good fortune... mostly ended by the purchase of that rifleman. And now you're telling me that my best option is fifty thousand C-Bills as a golden goodbye?"

"It's the best we can offer Lieutenant Rabagliati."

[Latro]

Fallon Deux
Fed Suns
2 January 3033


"Hee hee hee. Hey mon - I t'ink you want to get up before you gets wet."

Gunner Reslo's left eye twitched then reluctantly fluttered open. A vein or something in that orb throbbed and for less than a second his view of the world warped slightly. He groaned in a manner that eloquently communicated his immediate thoughts and feelings on what that one eyed view of the current universe meant to him at this moment. The groan furthermore managed to convey his opinion on 1) people who woke up early and managed to be as alive and chipper as his erstwhile interlocutor 2) the early heat of the day already at least 38*C and 3) life in general. His eye, eager to be out of the harsh light, slid shut on its own accord.

"Ahaha. Din' be like dat, it be a beautiful day. Now gitcher arse up hoojie and move or you be regrettin' it."

He rolled his eyes (as they were still closed the effect was quite lost on the owner of the disembodied voice) and put a hand to his forehead to massage his temples.

“You t’ink ah’m a lyin’ mon? Dat was ma’ las’ warnin’”

Gunner was about to tell the Voice what he thought of his warnings when a warm gentle deluge of water splattered across the dry skin of his face. He spluttered and moved quicker than someone might expect into a sitting position and about a meter to his left.

“Dat’s bettah. I needs to watah dese otter plants here. There you are ma lovelies, drink it in.”

Wincing as he ran fingers through his now wet hair Gunner managed to croak “What day is it?” before devoting his energies to focusing on the old man shuffling amongst the large ceramic pots that had until very recently been his impromptu bedding. Green blobs came into focus first. Large pepper and tomato plants heavy with fruit grew at the foot of corn stalks and cannabis plants. Bean vines artfully wound themselves up the taller plants, gravid with pods. One of the pots was behind him and he leaned back against it. Its curve and warmth felt good against his back, which was starting to lodge formal protests from the night spent on the sandstone flagstones. He looked up and saw a network of wooden beams extending from the domicile, each supporting an awning made from light fabrics and fantastically coloured. A slight breeze made them move and shift.

“Dàtiáo. What planet is this?”

“It be T’ursday. Janr’y th’ t’ird. T’irty Ti’rty T’ree. And da planet be Fallon Deux. And merde!” The old man reappeared from behind the plant pots. An older negro gentleman, somewhat heavy set, with an insane tangle of greying dreadlocks. He wore faded third hand clothing and a pair of hideous carpet slippers flopped loosely as he shuffled towards Gunner. “Gunner Reslo, YOU a cul muet! Do you forget who I am?”

Reslo stared at the apparition blearily as the cogs and gears of his synaptic net meshed teeth and took on the neural load. ‘I am Gunner Reslo’ Yes... that sounded right. And this man was...“H... Haile?”

He rubbed his face again. This had been the bender to beat all benders. Four days... gone. No memory of anything from when he had started drinking at that hole in the wall public house since the weekend before New Year’s eve. No notion of where he was or who the people around him were. Not good. Was he so desperate to forget his situation? 

Survey says: YES

Once started the trickle of memories became a flood. Haile Sendaris. Retired merchant from whom he was renting a room to stay in. Renting from Haile because he could no longer afford a decent hotel room. Couldn’t afford a hotel room because his mech, an Ostroc with the unlikely name of Boxcar, had to be housed in a licensed mech hanger.

Haile’s deep and ruddy chuckle sounded pleasant in the confines of his small garden. “Dat’s right! Old Haile. Cul muet - All dem brain cells ain’t gone yet. Yet...” he added with another chuckle.

“Dàtiáo, Haile. I’m... sorry. Been a bit rough the last few days.”

“I’d say almost a week by da’ smell o’ you. You go wash up. I gots somet’ing to show you, but I don’ wanna be down wind from you at da’ moment.”

Tempus Fugit...

A long shower wasn’t enough. It took two before Gunner felt human enough to sheepishly seek out Haile again. He found him behind the building, liberally pouring fuel from a red cannister into a open 200 liter barrel.

“Stan’ back. Gonna be a good fire ball here.”

They stepped back a few paces. Haile expertly lit a wooden match then flicked it towards the barrel. Accuracy was not a factor. The open flame flew through the invisible fume cloud and...

The ascending fireball created a micro vacuum that sucked air into its hungry embrace with a *WHUMP* that was more felt than heard. Reslo felt to make sure his eyebrows were intact.

“HEHE! Now DAT’S a fire!” Haile chortled gleefully and grinned as he handed Gunner a sheet of paper. “Here dis for you. Found it posted at de’ market dis mornin’. I suggest you take it. Only work for a mech driver like you on dis shiteball planet. You can come back an’ stay wit’ me if’n you evah make it back. Heh. Burn you stinkin’ hoojie!” he yelled at the black smoke belching from the barrel.

Gunner read what was clearly an advert for work. Hand written with one end ripped into tassles for taking a number.

WANTED: Skilled warriors, technicians and expedition crew for investigative expedition to DC space. No combat expected but maybe required. Must have own tools of the trade. Room, Board and Transportation provided to destination. Payment by shares of any valuables recovered. For details contact Johannes @ Box 270.

Gunner snorted. For real?

The fire began to smell... odd.

“Haile - what the frell are you burning?”

“Your clothes. Nasssty! Ain’t no way no one was evah gonna wear dem t'ings agin' anyway!”

Gunner looked at the ad again and sighed. It sounded dreadful, but it truly was the only game in town...

[worktroll]

Fallon Deux
Fed Suns
30th December 3032



The cockpit glass of the DigLord not only filtered out the harsh UV rays of the sun, it also blocked most of the noise coming from the massive rock slicer as it slid through the local sandstone. Cutting blades made (according to the ads) to spaceship armour standards, designed for cutting through solid rock, made quick work of the soft sedimentary deposits. Getting close, Digger thought. ’Bout ten more minutes ‘till we’re done, then into town for the celebrations t’morrow. A hard earned thirst means a big cold beer, eh?

The whine of the cutter suddenly turned into a noisy clatter, loud enough to make the ‘Mech operator wince. Another bloody boulder! What sort of flamin’ mess was this place a hundred million years ago? Occasional lumps of volcanic granite showed up in the sedimentary beds laid down long ago, which was the main reason the Five Hand Ranch had hired an IndustrialMech to build their new irrigation channels. The boulders, weighing hundreds of tons, were too heavy for standard earth-moving equipment to move. Fortunately, Digger had another option.

With practiced ease, he cut power to the rock slicer, and pivoted the DigLord until its left arm approached the obstacle. With an intimidating whine, the multidrill head which the IndustrialMech carried instead of a hand swung up to speed. While not as capable of breaking large quantities of stone as the rock cutter, the multidrill could cut its way through almost anything – including ‘Mech armour, Digger remembered fondly. Strewth, that Stinger pilot is never going to forget that in a hurry!

At 65 tons, the DigLord weighed as much as a heavy BattleMech, and certainly looked armoured and intimidating. Digger knew full well though that it was no match for a real heavy ‘Mech, oe even many medius. Doesn’t mean I can’t bully any lights slow enough for me to catch though. He’d done many exercises with the Fallon militia, mainly working with their engineer company on hasty fortifications or disaster exercises, but he’d managed to use the ‘Mech’s fluid guns and mining gear to intimidate infantry. They’re still sore about Keong’s Stinger, though. Yup, I shouldn’t have powered the drill, but he was such a mouthy bastard, I swear he was asking for an ‘accident’.

Once the bounder had been chewed out of the way, and he’d finished the cut up to where the lock would be installed, he noticed it was an hour past finishing time. Turning around, he grunted. More or less as he’d expected, the dump trucks and front loader who’d been clearing the spoil were long gone.  Unexpected was the ute belonging to the Five Hand manager, Dave O’Fleer, parked back from the dry canal. Digger waved the rock slicer at the car, then marched the ‘Mech over to it.

Opening the cockpit bubble let the hot, arid dusty air in for the first time in hours. Swearing under his breath, Digger dug out a pair of tinted goggles and a disreputable bush hat, and put them on. He slid down the chain ladder. There was more than usual grit in the air, much coming from the neglected spoil heaps. “Arvo, O’Fleer” he said. “That lot”, jerking an elbow at the heaps, “is going to be blown back to buggery by the time the shovel mob are back. What brings you out here?”

O’Fleer shrugged. “Figured you’d appreciate if I gave you this today.” He handed over a thick envelope.

Digger riffled the D-bills inside with his thumb. “Bit more than I was expecting. Holiday bonus?”

“Termination bonus.”

“What?” Digger stared at the manager. “But … “

“No, you didn’t do anything – this time”, the manager explained. “But we’re shutting down the project. Water allocations came through, and we missed out. Bigtime,” he spread his arms. “What can you do?”

“You can bloody well march on the buggers at Hydro and –“

O’Fleer sighed. “No use, Digger. The desal plant’s down again.”

“Those fancy goddam filters again?”
“Yup”, O’Fleer nodded. “Crock of shite they’ve been since they built the plant. Looks like NAIS isn’t quite as clever as they thought they were. Anything remotely potable’s going into the cities for the foreseeable future – certainly not wasting any on dry-land cropping.”

Digger slumped. “Shite. Shite, shite, shite.”

“You’ll get work, won’t you? Horrabin is still hiring?”

Digger spat into the dust. “I’ll root my own drillhead before I’ll work for those clowns again. Besides, no way will they hire me again. Dumb mercs might fall for the company store, but not Mum Drager’s little boy, no way. And since the war, all the reconstruction money’s gone to war-hit planets, not here. And I was just about to make the last payment on Chesty here!” He looked at the envelope again, more carefully this time. Might be enough, if I don’t pay me rent until I get some more work. Coughing, he said “Well, thanks for the bonus, O’Fleer. Appreciated. Hope things turn out for you soon. Mind, ‘fraid I don’t have enough diesel to make it back to town – got ahead of schedule, you know how it is.”

O’Fleer visibly relaxed. Probably worried I was going to lose it, thought Digger, smiling faintly. The manager thought, and then said “Look, you did a good job for us – not your fault this has fallen to pieces.” He grabbed his comm from his belt. “Jenkins? No? Where is he? Oh, doesn’t matter. I’m sending Digger up to you. Fill his tank for him, right – yes, diesel. Yup, and a decent fill. My authority.” He looked up. “Hit Depot 3 – you got enough to get there?” When Digger nodded, he continued. “I’ve told them to top your tanks – consider it a New Year’s bonus. You’ll have plenty to get back to town, and a bit extra to tide you over.  Thanks, Digger – hope the new year brings us all some luck.”

The two men shook hands, then O’Fleer climbed back into his ute and drove off. The roostertail of dust spread out behind the car. Digger thought for a moment, then began climbing back up the chain ladder.

Once in the cockpit, he started up the twin diesels powering the IndustrialMech, and began to move off. A sudden fancy struck him, and he checked his control panel. His gauges showed four and a half tons of water still onboard, in six tanks. He pivoted, approached the dry canal he’d laboriously dug, and then triggered the ‘Mech’s fluid guns to empty all but one tank of water at low velocity. For once – and probably the only time – water ran down the canal.

There’s a fine line between “fill his tank” and “fill his tanks”, Digger thought. And five extra tons of fuel aren’t going to hurt if I’ve got to find another job toot sweet. He'd enjoyed the work for Five Hands; O'Fleer was a bastard, but all bosses were, and he was a human bastard. Not like the suits at Horrabin. But with the drawdown in the local economy as the Suns tried to repair its economy post 4th-War, his big DigLord was turning into an expensive luxury. With the Militia likely to pull their contract with him, he was likely to find himself proud owner of a multi-million D-bill IndustrialMech, without the funds to operate it.

"This does not look good, me old china plate."



Fallon Deux
Fed Suns
2 January 3033

Digger had reached the conclusion that New Year's was absolutely the worst time of year to look for work. Anyone not on holiday was drunk, or hungover, and you just spent your time and money trying to comm people who weren't interested in talking to you. Worse, he'd seen a couple of MiningMechs - smaller, less capable, but undeniably cheaper to run - at the DropPort being painted in Horrabin colours. Looks like there'll be no work on this flamin' planet for an honest digger, at this rate.

He'd managed a frugal New Year celebration on money that should have gone to his landlord, and was sipping on a mug of Donegal Roast instant erzacaff - it might taste like crap, but it's cheap, and after one cup of this, nothing else seems quite so bad - when an ad caught his eye.

Technician, check. Own tools of trade, check. Board paid for, check. Well, might be worth trying. Reaching  for his comm, he began punching numbers.






 

[zeitgeist]

Sultzaberger farm
Fallon Dos
Fed Suns
2 January 3033

Kal woke up early, finally feeling free from a particularly insistent new year's hangover.  Shuffling through the darkness, he managed to start a pot of coffee and preform his morning necessities without waking anyone. Taking a mug and a roll, he walked outside and turned towards the equipment barn, the predawn light turning the tan dust a blueish gray.

Inside the barn, he made his way to the back corner where Camerone stood, her Avalon Hussars' gray looking almost presentable, even after two years of farm work. Finishing his breakfast before climbing the rope ladder to the cockpit, he settled into the command couch and started bringing the communications system online. Aside from a half-hour drive into town, the Griffin's ageing Neil 6k system was the only link to the rest of the world--the domestic communications terminal in the house had died back in September, and both his parents were more concerned in blaming each other for it than actually spending the money to get it fixed.

Opening the early edition of the Tribune, he started with the sports section (the Wings had beat the Jumpers 3-2 in the 10th) before moving to weather (hot and dry, shocking) and politics (Exclusive: First photos of Princess Katherine). By this point sunlight was shining through the eastern windows of the barn, and sounds of activity could be heard outside as the rest of the family began their day. In no rush to get started on the day's chores, Kal began reading through the classifieds.

WANTED: Skilled warriors, technicians and expedition crew for investigative expedition to DC space. No combat expected but maybe required. Must have own tools of the trade. Room, Board and Transportation provided to destination. Payment by shares of any valuables recovered. For details contact Johannes @ Box 270.

He had to read the message three times before he could believe it. Expedition to DC space! Six years in the 42nd, and the closest he'd gotten to Snake space was a one-month mission to Damevang acting on the rumor of a Drac raiding force. Bringing up two-way communications, he sent a hasty message to Box 270 and scrambled back to the house to break the new to he folks.

[Dave Talley]

ok
write up transplanted to correct thread

fiction to follow soon

[Malich]

Just a note for other folks for the future

Character Bios to the OOC thread, character story posts here. My fault for being a little flexible with the naming perhaps.

[Malich]

FLASHBACK

Rabagliati Home
North Spoon Ranch
100km NE Port Matilda
24-07-3028

The ranch's own Tractor unit pulled the flat bed with the twisted remains of Mutt's Rifleman, both lower legs and a salvaged Autocannon,  into the dusty area between the barns, feed silos and the monstrous water tower and wheezed to a halt. Mutt pushed the door to the cab open and grunted in pain as his back protested as he swung himself down to the dirt.

"Hector, take this scrap round the back and call me when Mr Steptoe gets here."

The gruff man in the cab grunted something in reply but Mutt wasn't really listening. He was staring at the ten bedroom, Spanish style ranch house that had been his family's home for the last two hundred years. He sighed, steeled himself and began to stride (limp) towards it. Climbing the steps, the door was opened for him by a man in his late sixties and wearing a suit that, were it not for the air conditioning in the house, would be far too warm for the planet.

"Good afternoon Master Rabagliati. Your Grandfather is in his room. Can I take your coat?"

"Good morning Sims. Thank you. How is he?"

"Not well Sir. The doctor gives him less than a week. Though I gather he is in no pain thanks to the medication."

"Can you bring the bottle of Wernke?"

Sims' stopped and gave Mutt a sombre look.

"Ah... very good sir."

Mutt tried to take the steps two at a time and pulled up short after the first few steps and decided to just let his body rest and took the steps singly. Damned ejection seats. Mutt stopped at the door to his Grandfather's suite and straightened his new tie and then knocked on the door. The room smelled of anticeptics and ozone and the primary sound came from the hiss of the nebuliser at the side of his grandfather leather recliner. The old man was dressed, as he always had been, in denim dungarees and a checked cotton shirt. His boots were immaculately polished as they always were every morning, cleaned and polished by his own hands, a habit Mutt had endeavoured to copy.

"Hello Boy." The old man's voice was muffled by the mask but understandable. Mutt watched him focus his eyes on Mutt's white shirt and blue tie. "Oh.  Well, that's disappointing. Come and sit down and tell me what happened."

Mutt limped over and dropped into the chair opposite. There was a knock at the door and Sims came into the room with a silver tray containing two glasses and a dusty, faded bottle of whiskey. The butler made no sound, just dropped the tray and left wordlessly.

"We were ambushed. Charlie Urquhart bought it in the first shot. Stalker and a Dragon came out of the little side canyon up at Hunter's Canyon. They might even have been in the old mine for all I know. Toni Field and Jay Donner were right the way up by Kinsman, call it thirty minutes away. Nothing I could do really. Reactor breached and I punched out. Militia have told me that they're not going to let us claim on the insurance because i was adequately supported. So i have a 50k payoff, a zero/zero club tie and pin and a gap in my schedule to fill."

"Ah. Pop the bottle then."

Mutt reached out and picked up the three hundred year old bottle of scotch. It had been purchased on the same day as the Rifleman under strict orders that it would only be opened to toast the death of the 'Mech. Mutt twisted off the foil cap and pulled the cork from the bottle before pouring two small glasses. He passed one to his grandfather and kept one for himself.

"Here's mud in your eye." Mutt knocked the glass back and nearly doubled over, spitting a portion of the glass back out onto the tray. "Dear gods. That's foul." He picked the bottle up and sniffed cautiously at the opening.

"Three hundred years and the damn things unplattable. Not your fault boy. My father should have trashed the 'Mech back in the big one. Been an Albatross for decades. So, what are you going to do with yourself boy?""

"If i knew, i'd tell you. You know the Ranch isn't for me?"

The old mach coughed out a chuckle and smiled "Boy, last time you tried to herd it took Tom a week to gather everything back together. You're too much of an adventurer. Tom and the boys have made me an offer for the ranch. It's not quite face value but they've earned the right to make a good go of it and i'm minded to take their offer."

"Good. Give you a nice little nest egg for your retirement."

"Come on boy. You know as well as i do that I'm a goner. Doc Crow gives me a week, two at the outside. It's gone too far, too fast. I've told Tom to hold off two weeks and to buy it from you. The paperwork shouldn't be ready until then anyway. You're the last of my line. The last Rabagliati. You're young, your single, no ties. Get off this dustbowl and make something of yourself."

"If I had an idea of what to do, I would Sir."

The old man reached to the bookshelf to his right and pulled out an old, hard backed notebook. The book was nothing more fancy that a shop bought diary or note book. The kind of thing you'd pick up from a stationery store for less than a C-Bill. Bit it looked old, well read.

"Well, it's funny you should mention that."

[zeitgeist]

Sultzaberger farm
Fallon Dos
Fed Suns
3 January 3033

Kal glanced around the equipment barn, the building looked larger than normal, the family's machinery moved outside to make space for the rows of tables and the people sitting at them. His parents had called every relative in a 75 kilometer radius, and he was in the middle of the largest collection of cousins, aunts, uncles, siblings and distant relations he'd seen in a decade.

"That damn mech's been in the family for three centuries, and you're gonna risk it on some whim to see Drac space?"

He turned back to his father, "It's not much of a risk, the ad said no combat expected."

"If no combat's expected, why do they want mechwarriors?"

His father's tone attracted the attention of severraal nearby relatives, who thankfully interrupted him before he could launch into a full chewing out.

"You're going to Drac space, Kal?"

"Of course he ain't, weren't you listening to Uncle Ray?"

"If you're going into the Combine, can you bring back one of those dresses the men all wear? I need a present for Mikey's birthday."

"I hear Snake planets are covered in rice paddies."

"No, that's Cappies, the Snakes all have cherry trees and tea plants."

"Dave's been through Drac territory, he says the cities smell funny."

"Dave says everything smells funny."

Kal listened as a ripple of debate spread across the barn. Sultzabergers approached arguments with a passion and devotion akin the how certain Draconian noble houses viewed sword smithing. Within ten minutes every person in attendance seemed to be expressing at least two differing opinions on a multitude of subjects ranging from the outcome of the Fourth War to the current weather. Kal took advantage of the chaos to walk outside.

"Hey, kid, I think you're gonna need this."

His grandfather was leaning against the side of the barn, smoking a pipe and holding out Kal's neurohelmet.

"Thanks, grandpa, but I don't think I'm gonna need it."

"Like hell you ain't. Get out and live life for a while, kid. I spent seven years as a merc during the Third, and I had the time of my life. You ever hear how we lost a Union dropship to the Elsies?"

"The Lyrans shot down your dropship?"

"Shot down? Hell, no, we were working for them. I'll tell you the story when you get back. Now I suggest you get some gear packed and get going. From the sound of things in there, it'll be a couple of hours before anyone notices you're gone."

[Malich]

FLASHBACK

Mutt's Trailer
North Spoon Ranch
100km NE Port Matilda
17-04-3030

The knock at the door pulled Mutt back to reality from his study of the topographical maps he had been able to obtain of Idlewind. He had been living in a fourth hand trailer on what had been his family's farm for the last 2 years, husbanding his resources for what his math told him would be an expensive little jaunt to Idlewind in the next couple of years

"Come on in."

The door opened allowing the dry heat of the Fallon morning to invade his space. The heat was followed by two people in dusty denim and sweat stained cotton. One male, one female.

"Vicky,  Hector. What can I do for you?"

Vicky was a friend, they had known each other for years, even had a bit of a fling once, but she was the daughter of Sims the butler and as such it had been frowned upon by some people. She was one of the ranch hands, a fine shot with a rifle and employed to watch the herds and to pick of any predators off that might find fresh meat a tasty treat. She could dress like a lady and cuss like a sailor when she chose to.

Hector Alvarez was the driver of the farm tractor rig, a competent hand with construction equipment and a steady head in a crisis. Tall, broad and strong he was a perfect ranch hand, but not much of a talker.

"We want in" Unsurprisingly i was Vicky who spoke as she dropped her self onto the sofa and kicked her booted legs onto the arm. Her light shirt shifted exposing a certain amount of skin that Mutt pointedly tried not to look at and the handle of he autopistol riding on her left hip.

"In?"

"You're going hunting for what's in your Grandfather's book. And we want to come with you."

Mutt leaned back in his hair and let the stylus drop to the table. "If I am, what makes you think i want to risk you on some damn fool crusade?"

"What makes you think we can't help? You're going to be in the middle of nowhere, looking for something which may or may not exist with locals looking to shiv you at every turn. you'll need someone to look out for you while you're busy surveying and digging. There's ten of us who are looking to get off Fallon, at least for a bit. We're all fit, we're all healthy, we can all shoot, some of us are even Militia men. We've talked it though. We've told our family what we're planning and most of them are ok with it."

"Is your father?"

"No, he's not. But he's also not going to stop me because he knows he'll lose if he tried.  It's a good little squad we're putting together."

Mutt sighed "Who d you have?"

"Yves, Alan, Mel and Jacob. Gives you a core fire team. You know they're used to working together already and Mel is almost done with her militia medical training. Myself and Monty already wrok as marksman spotter. He signed up as soon as i mentioned it. Something about not breaking up a good team. Then there's Denis, Marek and Giuseppe."

"Denis the mountain guide?"

"More than that. Denis the avalanche preventer. Did you know that 4x4 with the Heavy Recoilless Rifle on it was his own property? He's been training Marek and Giuseppe how to work it. That gives you some heavy support if you need it."

"How long have you been planning this?"

"About eight weeks. We wanted to make sure you couldn't disagree."

"What makes you think i can't disagree?"

"Because you know it makes sense, because we're already organised without you having to lift a finger. It gives you a core of people you know and trust, it brings you in a range of skills you wouldn't otherwise have without paying a huge amount of money for and we're willing to work for a share of the profits."

"And if there are no profits?"

Hector stirred for the first time from his position by the door. "Then you'll have paid for out food and travel to somewhere where, hopefully, we can either find a better life, or better opportunities to move somewhere else. And who knows Hoss, you might just make us rich."

[Malich]

FLASHBACK

North Spoon Ranch
100km NE Port Matilda
11-11-3031 11:01Z

The people in the ranch yard started to move again as a whistle blew signifying the end of the minutes silence. Armistice Day / Memorial day was not always followed on the varied worlds of Humanity but the militia on Fallon II had a tradition of a minutes silence and the ranch had followed tradition since long before Mutt had been born. Mutt was stood in a knot of people he had started to consider his "unit"

They'd taken over one of the old tin sheds which now contained the three vehicles they considered their transport, a table full of maps and documents and a rickety old AC unit. As soon as the silence was over they wandered back into relative cool of the metal building.

"It's no good. I'm not going to be able to get a 'Mech and still pay for a decent sized unit to come with us."

Mel walked over to the table and leaned against, bending at the waist and shuffling some papers around.

"You'll be healthier walking in with us anyway. And you can't marvel at everything in a Star League Cache in one of those tin cans. Besides, you'll have plenty to choose from once we unlock it."

"If there is anything there, yes, i guess I shall. And the rest of you will all be rich."

"You keep saying that Hoss" piped in Alvarez "I hope you're right."

"Even if the place was stripped, you heard what happened out on Helm a few years ago. there could be data we can sell, old computer cores..."

"... Crazed zealots trying to kill us."  Yves quipped. The bulky machinegunner popped a can of energy drink and took a long swig.

"That's why we're doing this quiet like. We'll recruit the unit 2-3 days before we leave and then hopefully leave the rumours behind. I'll also not be telling people where we're going until we're on the ship and away. With the exception of the flight crew i guess."

[Grognard]

Fallon II
Minerburg
Johann's

     Stephan Rojas enjoyed his plate of BBQ.  Given the austerity of this world and the toughness of the local meat production animals, the BBQ was juicy and succulent.  Sadly, his companionship for the meal rather soured the entire experience.  Katherine Dean, current AuPair to his beloved children, sat across the table from him with a scowl on her pinched features.  She had warmed his bed a few times, but now... now she wanted much, much more: a raise and a payoff.

     "Stephan, I know how rich you really are.  That savings account for the kids? 900,000 Kroner!  And that 'Mech..."  She shuddered. "That terrible war machine: you don't need it.  It's easily worth 2 million c-bills, probably more.  I just want a piece of the pie.  I want to got to New Avalon and finish my Psychology degree.  I want OFF this dustball!"  She leered at Stephen.. "With you or without you... 'cause I don't NEED your body to get your money.  I'll say it again: 200,000 C-bills and I dont tell the Constabulary about the infamous Rojas the Red who's hiding out as Steve Richards.  For 600,000 C-bills and I'm outta here, never to bother you again.  Make it an even MILLION, and I'll never tell the Duchess where I saw you and her great-grandchildren."
 
    Stephan closed his eyes and kept chewing.  It was really sad. Thud and Jenny had been right again.  This was the third au pair/governess to try this tactic.  Let them see the money and see the leverage: and they immediately wanted More or All of everything.  But this one... Katherine was especially stupid.  She had already contacted the Duchess.  His few contacts on Andurian had informed him almost immediately.  Happily, the Duchess was a bit busy with the Mariks at the moment to pursue an old grudge with him ... at least, he hoped so. The waiter wandered by and raised an eyebrow, to which Stephan (he was using an old alias; RICHARDS) nodded and received a fresh glass of Tamibiqui Dark.  After the waiter moved away, Stephen decided to try logic and compassion as an arguement. 

     "Look Katherine, that money is all I have to pay for everything  the kiddos need.  School, clothes, food..." He swallowed and looked her in the eye. "it even pays your salary, Katherine.  It's all I have left to keep us out of the poorhouse and the Duchess' clutches.  As for my VALK.... it more than pays for itself.  Locals don't frak with MechWarriors; at least the SMART ones don't.  For now, I'm done with dinner and this conversation: let's go."

     Katherine was still scowling when they left Johann's Diner. She was still scowling when he turned the groundcar onto the PT-1 highway.  She scowled deeper when she realized he was heading away from town, and out into the wastes.  Stephan sighed to himself; he really should have done this sooner, but he had let her bedroom antics distract him.  Now he was going to have to do something that would leave him feeling a cad.

Stephan broke the silence with his rumbling tone as they drove. "Are you pregnant?"
The shock on her face answered his question, but she  answered anyway. "Of course not!  How stupid do you think I am?"
Stehpan coasted to a stop and answered her. "Stupid enough to piss me off and endanger my family.  Stupid enough to get into a car with someone who doesn't care if you live another day. Finally, stupid enough that I will enjoy your long, long walk to the nearest population center.  Get out."

Stephan popped the side door and shoved her out of the door. "If I ever see you again... I'll kill you.  Here is a thousand C-bills.  Your possessions will be left at the apartment.  Goodbye, Katherine." With that, Stephan slammed the door shut and spun the groundcar in a U turn, and headed to the Mech bays nearest the Spaceport.  Katherine, mouth ajar, Cbills held limply in her hand, watched him go.
 

2 hours later
Mech Bays,
Fallon Spaceport

Thud Waller. Mech Tech. Middle aged, married, skinny as a rail.  Laconic.  Vicious sense of humor. Stephen Rojas' best man, Mech Tech and only true friend.  Thud Waller didn't say a word when Rojas' rented groundcar rolled into the bay, sans a female passenger.  Naught but a raised eyebrow while he cleaned a lubrication fitting behind the right knee of Rojas' VALKYRIE.  His studied indifference continued until Rojas stepped out of the car and looked up at him.

"Told ya so." drawled Thud.  Rojas nodded.  "There's an 'investigative' expedition headed into Snake space real soon.  Local guy looking to make good.  Seems legit.  Jenny is inside with the kids. She is also breaking out our legit documentation so we don't run askew the MRBC when we hire with that expedition."

Rojas cocked his head.."What makes you think we'll be joining that expedition?  I might just head the opposite direction."

Thud laughed and shook his head; "because it is a paying gig and it is further away from the Duchess?  Go inside and tell the kids. Me 'n Jenny will start packing."

Rojas laughed and headed into the small office space included in the hangar lease.  Before he reached the door, he stopped to consider the 9 meter tall BattleMech that stood in the bay.  "Oh, my SIGRUN, grant me victory today." he breathed the old Norse prayer.  The VALKYRIE stood impassive, but didnt deign to answer his prayer. 

SIGRUN stood glistening in the bay light. Creamy light grey with red trim the Mech was kept in pristine condition, its paint scheme identical to that of the very first VALKYRIE that ever stepped from the factory doors of Corean Enterprises. The single identifier was a Norse valkyrie which carried a shield emblazoned with the family arms of Rojas.  Stephan snorted. He had never attempted to obscure the identifiers on his 'Mech. 

     Stephan Rojas' Mech was rare in the extreme.  It had a factory-installed Right Hand and the medium laser which usually fired through the wrist, was mounted to the top of the forearm.  He had only seen one other in all his years.  It was rare enough that he had Thud keep a couple of spare hands and laser mounts.  Oddly enough, every Rojas Valkyrie had been configured as such.  The pristine condition of his Mech actually helped pay for itself.  Everytime he arrived at a new planet, he would make copies of the original factory Operating System and maintenance manual of SIGRUN.  He and Thud had found that most units had lost their maintenance documentation over the centuries, and Corean didn't include it gratis... which made every copy very valuable. 

Additionally, the OS of SIGRUN was very, very old.  It had been salvaged from his many times great grandmother's VALKYRIE over 300 years ago.  Part of the Rojas family heritage had been the copying of the original system to every new VALKYRIE that the family had fielded.  To the Rojas family, it gave them the ability to mount every rookie Rojas on what amounted to a veteran warhorse.  Hundreds of years of feints, dodges and other manuevers as well as the battle history and every 'Mech configuration that a Rojas had faced.  This family OS wasn't shared with outsiders, but Thud kept an archive of factory OS to sell.

     Stephan shook himself free of his woolgathering.  Time to go see what job that Jenny had found for him.  That, and bear up to the "I told you so's" they were sure to inflict.  'Investigative' expedition, hunh?  Probably looking for LosTech or somesort.  Well, it was definitely time to blow this dustball.

[Decoy]

FLASHBACK


To: Sergeant Alison York, 15th Marik Militia, Wasat, Free Worlds League
From: Astech Mechwarrior Liam York, Wylie's Coyotes, Bromhead, Federated Suns

March 19, 3024
Dear Alison,
     It's always tricky to see what the censors will allow and disallow, so I hope I can get the gist of my message across. Firstly, it's good to hear that you've gotten a promotion and a new ride. It's good to see the Free Worlds League finally doing something about that.  It's sad it took Mom retiring and you spending nearly decade in a hand me down Locust.

I can trump you, though. A couple of years ago, the Taurians left behind a piece of junk after they got smashed trying to raid some ammo supplies. Due to my status as head astech, I got first crack at trying to put it back together.

Last week, I finally finished! She was certified as combat capable and I had the deeds made out. You're looking at the proud owner of a JM6-S Jagermech! You can stop laughing now. They're fine 'mechs when in their element.  I'll be careful anyways. I don't want to be an astech again just because I did something stupid.

Still, all I have to do now is wait out the rest of my tour with the Coyotes and I'll be free! Who knows? Maybe I can form that mercenary unit we talked about when we were little. Heh.  If I had a lance CO spot open for you, would you take it? 

Love you
Liam



     
     

[SethsMatches]

FLASHBACK

Early December 3032

Kiva had specifically avoided any opportunity to see the planet she was approaching; both from on the Jumpship itself and on the journey down in the dropship. She didn't want to ruin her first impression of this new planet.

“I promised myself I wouldn't stop travelling until my travel budget runs out or I reach the arse end of nowhere. Let's see what this planet looks like…”

As she approached the boarding ramp the dry, dusty and gusting wind began to blow her hair into frenzy. Expletives followed.

A few moments after organising her hair into a bun…

“Yup, I'll call this the arse end of nowhere."

[Ian Sharpe]

Fallon II

"Why ya gotta be that way, Johnny?"

Seated in front of his so-called CO, Hart gave a shrug.  "Dunno, Cap'n.  Bored." 

His Captain, an inflated rank if there ever was one for a lance leader, exhaled noisily.  "Its a cushy gig, kid.  I don't get it.  Don't you like it here?  Yer getting paid, keeping yer mech running, not getting shot at.  OK, sure, Fallon is a hole.  But you aint doing so bad here.  His Nibs thinks yer some kinda hotshot." 

The minor lord that employed Hart as part of his 'household guard' did have a high opinion of Hart.  He was the only one in his employ to see combat in the last thirty years.  Hart bit back that retort, not wanting an argument.  "Yeah, OK.  A hotshot whose job is what, exactly?  Looking sharp for some backwater nobody.  Being the one that's gonna get sent in if the probes riot?  Its shit.  A shit life.  I thought we'd at least have dealt with some raids or something.  Instead we had what?  Wargames with the CattleMechs?  Slapping a machine gun on those things is about all Fallon needs.  It doesn't bloody need me!"

Captain Mathers, much older than Hart, looked across the table at him.  His normal approach, the concerned uncle routine, worked fine with the other two jocks.  Of course, they were younger than Hart, kids of previous members.  Mathers hadn't seen combat in twenty-five years, and nothing like what Hart had seen.  Water raids, here and there.  No big battles.  He scratched his thinning hair, exhaled noisily again. 

"Ya know, Johnny, I liked you.  I figured ya just needed some, responsibility, I guess.  Made you XO, had ya slated to take over for me when i retired.  Nice peaceful life.  But ya can't do it, can ya?  Be honest with me."

John looked around the office for a few seconds, then back at his boss.  "No.  Probably not.  This life...its not for me."

Mathers reached into his desk, grabbing a slightly crumpled piece of paper.  He handed it across to John, who took it, not yet looking at it. 

"What is it?  My walking papers?"

"Maybe.  Take a look-see."

Hart straightened it out, then read the ad.  "You serious?"

"Ya ever know me to kid ya?"  Mathers changed his tone.  "Look, Johnny.  I don't know what else to do with ya.  So go.  I'll fix it with His Nibs.  Ya think there's a better offer out there?  Take it.  But we both know there ain't.  That's yer ticket off world.  To whatever action it is they got going.  Worst comes to worst, yer at least getting off Fallon, right?  Then ya can do whatever."

Hart stayed quiet, reading and re-reading the paper a few times.  Finally, he looked back across the desk.  "Cap, I, uh, thanks.  I mean that." 

"I know, Johnny.  Now get outta here.  I got work to do." 

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Hart quickly left the office, heading to his quarters.  He looked inside, not seeing much he wanted to take.  He was already wearing his guns, and the sword.  He didn't wear it like they did in the Combine.  It worked a lot better in a Euro style sword belt, he found.  They thought he did it because he knew how to use it, but honestly, it was just because he thought it made people take him more seriously. 

Quickly, he placed the call on his battered noteputer.  He wanted to see if they still had an opening.  "Must be somebody important to head into the Combine looking for him," he thought aloud.  Well, he would find out soon enough. 

[Latro]

Fallon Deux
Tara’s Tipperary
Capital City
Fed Suns
2 January 3033
Around 2-ish



Fire flared with the a rasp and snap, then subsided as it was sucked into the tip of the cigarette that dangled between Gunner’s lips. The embers crackled and began to glow. He waved the flame out, neatly tossing the match into a grimy ashtray on the bar surface before him.

It was a filthy habit, he knew...

He knew...

And yet... as insane as it might sound, once upon a time he had had to force himself to learn the habit in order to survive. Frelling Cappies, especially the Servitor’s, all smoked like bloody chimneys. It was like a damned national pastime or something. He’d been on the run, from whom he was not entirely sure, and the only way that presented itself for him to disappear had been to blend in with the lowest of the Capellan low. A non-smoking Servitor would have made him stick out as surely as if he’d painted himself blue. And thus...

He inhaled deeply and briefly held the smoke in his mouth, savoring the taste and rush, and exhaled after a heart’s beat.

Smoke rose in seductive coils and he stared into the sworls as if trying to read their meaning, his mind drifting to the distant past. In his mind’s eye he again watched as an Archer suffered a hit to an ammo bin, the unleased destructive force ripping through the stricken mech until argent flames burst out through the cockpit canopy; a PPC blast lancing the cockpit of a Marauder, the slow fall as the dead mech sprawled fell heavily to the ground; the elation of seeing the ejection seat of a good friend glide gracefully to the ground, the humor of the parachute gently shrouding the pilot in a near perfect circle, and the absolute horror watching the heavy heavy foot of a backpedaling Warhammer, one of their own unit, land solidly on the ejected pilot as she struggled to get out from beneath the fabric; finding the that same Warhammer pilot three days later swaying gently, his tongue swollen and face purple from the tightened noose around his neck, hanging from the rope he (or someone else?) had thrown over a rafter in the barracks they were billeted in...

“And later I’m going to a Bakrim yoga class, then I’m taking my dog for a walk. He is SO cute!...”

The woman sitting next to him was talking incessantly, as if she felt it was her duty to fill in the quiet cracks of the universe. Damned mech-bunny had practically stuck her hands down his pants as soon as he sat down, looking for a free drink from someone who was obviously a mech jock. He blatantly ignored her as he sipped his beer from the bottle.

Solaris. It was where he needed to be. Someplace where he could be on his own with no one dependant on him (‘and HOW exactly is that different from our current situation?’ said his True voice from the black depths of his mind), where he could just get into an arena and FIGHT for the pure joy of it. None of these crap assignments on crap worlds for crap employers, ‘taking orders’, and relying on others to watch his back. None of this... getting close... to people if he didn’t want to.

Some people had tried to get close to him. Haile’s friendly face came to his mind. And Jarrod’s. And  Zouhoun’s and a half dozen other people who had helped him. Unbidden and without thought of thanks. He couldn’t thank them now. He would never be able to thank most of them. Haile though... he needed to let him know how much he appreciated the old man this last year. He’d insinuated himself into Gunner’s routine since the day he’d been marooned on this craptastic planet. Damned if Haile wasn’t the first father figure he’d ever had. His own mother and father were many years dead now, victims of an accidental explosive decompression on the Jump Ship they’d served together on, that Gunner had in fact been BORN on. They said when they had recovered their bodies from deep space the had been found floating, hands clasped in a grip that would last forever. Gunner had been delivered to the care of an uncle of the Jumpship captain on the game world Solaris. He had been a caring if distant man, and he had been raised with the his daughter Reyna as if they were siblings.

“And tomorrow I’ll go to another yoga session. I try to go every day. See how toned I am?”

Another sip of the beer. He wondered where she was now. Last news from Solaris said she was moving up in the ranks. She had always been a better pilot than he was, and that was partly the reason why he had decided to go to Westerhand. He couldn’t fight her, not if there was ever even a slim chance that he might accidentally kill her. Nor could he bear the thought of her beating him either, so off he went to claim the title of “Peerless Supreming Better Champion” on Westerhand in the Capellan Confederation. The last time he had seen her face was what, seven years past?

Reslo sighed and looked at the mech bunny sitting next to him out of the corner of his eyes. She seemed familiar. Extremely  blonde. High cheek bones and a fine straight nose. Incredible blue eyes. But young, very very young...

“I usually only drink wine, but today I’m having a martini. I don’t know why...”

Ealeni Sanselas. She reminded him of Ealeni Sanselas, the long dead pilot of the Archer whose ammo bin had been hit. Much younger of course, and without the care worn wrinkles to the corners of her eyes. He had carried a torch for her, they all had... and she and her laughter and intelligence were gone. Just gone.

“I’m a nurse at the city hospital. I work the night shift ‘cos I’m the lowest on the totem pole, but I don’t mind...”

And now... to start over again? To join a half-assed unit on a half-assed mission. Yes it would get him off Fallon II, but was he ready to open himself to others? Was he ready for the soul numbing pain when someone you’d learn to care for died violently?

“It’s all about the people you work with. If you’re with a good group of people it somehow makes the shitiest situation OK.”

Gunner stared blankly. His cigarette was gone, the beer bottle empty, and his throat was feeling raspy. “Wh... What did you say? About people?”

“I just think that in the end its the people you travel with in life that make it all worth going on.” She smiled as if that explained everything. “That’s all.”

Reslo stared at his hands on the edge of the bar. The people  people you travel with in life that make it all worth going on... She was right, of course. And if he owed a thanks to all those people who had helped him, perhaps he owed them something else as well. Pay it forward...

It might be the oddest reason he had ever elected to sign on to a merc unit, but he was suddenly ready to move forward. Step off the cliff and the universe will provide a parachute.

“What was your name?” he asked the girl.

“Abby.” She smiled at him hopefully.

Well Abby. Your next drink, whatever it might be, is on me.” he laid down a five C-Bill note on the table as he got up. “My name is Gunner and I am pleased to meet you. I have to go and see someone. My only advice to you, before I go, is to listen to your OWN advice. It truly is all about people.”

He stopped halfway to the door and turned. “Oh. and don’t spend too much time in places like this.”

[Dave Talley]

Fallon II

the No-Tell Motel
5 Jan, 3033


Franz was annoyed, really annoyed. Once again, a scheduled jumpship had not shown up so he had missed yet another connection, stuck on this dirtball for another month or more. As was his morning ritual at the diner, he scanned every bit of news he could find on the local net checking for news updates. He would occasionally jot down a note in the noteputer, keeping track of any noted raids or pirate activity. He also regularly checked the bulletins for local veterans organizations and even swap shops.
He was primarily annoyed since this last delay had meant he was not going to get to try out for the Kelll Hounds,  then he saw the ad....

After calling the number in the ad, Franz went for an interview, apparently seemed competent enough for a second interview with a local named Mutt.

[Stormcrow]

Fallon II
Morning Glory Airfield
03 Jan 3033


Jocasta decided early this morning that she wanted to fly. Instead of heading to the militia base where her Hellcat was parked, she went to the Morning Glory airfield to see if you she could rent one of the planes there. She had done this numerous times since arrinving on Fallon II. Sure, most of the planes here were single-engined prop birds built with technology more than a millenia old, but it was a more visceral sensation to fly one of these birds.

As she flew along the coast in the rented Fleercraft Staggerwing, she contemplated the advert she had seen on the Interweb. Sure the details of the job were non-existent, but it offered her a cheap and easy way off the planet. This is something that she wanted. No, it was something she needed. She threw the Staggerwing into a steep dive, then pulled up, rolling the plane 180 degrees and initiated an outside loop. Now inverted and with the blood rushing to her head, she decided that she would send an e-mail out to arrange an interview.

Rolling the plane back into a normal flight characteristic, she changed her course and headed back to Morning Glory.

[SethsMatches]

FLASHBACK

Later that day in early December:

The single working cargo door on this dropper meant that because her 4x4 bakkie was secured at the ‘back’ Kiva had some time to kill after loading her toolbox, travel bag and travel chest before she could drive into town.

While waiting in the driver's seat with her feet resting above the cubbyhole on the passenger side she tried connecting to the local wireless net to see just how far this particular world had fallen.

(Not too far apparently), she thought, as a simple but functional welcome site appeared on her screen.
(Now to find a hairdresser and a room, in that order)

Not only would a hairdresser allow her hair to get a proper wash – thrice damned water usage limits on the dropper – but she could use it to get grassroots information about where she could find an affordable room and perhaps even good work. (I really hope there’re some mechs on this rock… If I have to rebuild one more combine harvester engine I'll go madder than Max!)

[codesurge]

Fallon II
Raven’s Nest
04 Jan 3033

The night was still young. That was the thought that stuck in Saori’s head as she leaned against the pillar and raised her Fallon’s Folly to her lips. The cocktail was a bittersweet blend of strong imported vodka, gin, local cherry syrup and topped with an olive. While a little stronger than what she had been expecting, it provided a nice break from the stiflingly boring conversation she had been having with a local businessman who’d been trying to show off his rather exaggerated wealth. Some people back on Rasalhague might have accused her for using her looks to get her way, but she was no naïve sitting duck debutante.  Nice try, but no cigar.

Scanning the room, it appeared to her that the majority of the guests who’d attended the party organized by a local celebrity lifestyle magazine were either staggering around in a half-drunken stupor, lying around in an alcohol-induced snooze or hooking up with other party-goers. That’s what happened when you mixed an open bar with wannabe socialites who clearly overestimated their tolerance for hard alcohol.

It clearly wasn’t what Saori had been expecting, but the nightlife on Fallon was clearly nowhere near the flashy parties and glittering social events that she’d been partaking in back on Rasalhague. Granted, she hadn’t really enjoyed herself the whole night and with no business ‘result’ to take the sting off the failed party, it was going to be a night to forget.

Setting her cocktail glass on the high table beside her, Saori flicked a lock of shoulder-length hair back before walking towards the main door of the club. As she ducked between groups of drunken guests, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Dismissing it as being an accidental touch, she was about to move on when a more insistent repeated tap caused her to whirl around.

The man who had been trying to get her attention was of average height and build; instantly forgettable if it hadn’t been for his mismatched eye colors, with one gray eye and one blue eye, offset by a shock of brown hair cut short. She wasn’t surprised to see Jim Tarkinson, the playboy son of the mining magnate who’d hired her to defend his assets on Fallon, at such a party. Nonetheless, he was a decent fellow and a passable MechWarrior who’d been her partner on the mission. He was the closest thing she had to a friend on a forsaken rock like this.

“Hey Jimmy, it’s good to see you again,” she exclaimed with a smile as she briefly embraced him. “What brings you to a sketchy party like this?”

“Huh, I thought I should be asking the question about a gal like you,” chuckled Jim. “Looking good. Dressed up to impress Fallon’s finest eh?”

Saori rolled her eyes in response to the ludicrous question and gestured towards the door.

“I’m done here and heading out. Do you want to share a ride back? You live pretty close to me, from what I remember.”

“Nah. Thanks, but no thanks,” grinned Jim as he stuck a thumb in the direction of the bar. “Alcohol’s still flowing so I’m a going. I’ll see you around then.”

Waving goodbye at Jim, she took two steps towards the door when she heard him call her name. Turning around, she saw him offering her a half-crumpled piece of paper with some faint print on it.

“I saw this tacked onto the wall in the men’s restroom. Figure you might want to take a look,” remarked Jim with a wry grin before disappearing back into the crowd.

Overcoming her distaste for the rather unsavory source of the document (she didn’t want to know how it got there), she straightened it out to read the relatively small print on it. Obviously an advertisement, it was brief and to the point, a want ad for hired help to perform an “investigative expedition to DC space”. Immediately, her mind went back to the family that she had back on Rasalhague, memories of her younger days and happier times floating through her mind. Perhaps an expense-paid trip back to Kuritan space was a good break from the monotonous security jobs that she’d been taking up in recent months.

Noting the box number on the ad for future reference, she folded the sheet into a neat square before tucking it into the small white purse she carried with her. With her head held high, Saori walked out of the club with the faintest of smiles on her lips. Perhaps the night had held some promise after all.

[Warclaw]

Fallon II
“Fool's Gold” Bar
03 Jan 3033


“Bloody Merchants.”  David hissed before he tossed back the last of his cheap beer and slammed the empty mug down.  “That'll teach me to trust a damned shopkeeper again!  And a Davion at that!  My old mother would skin me if she knew.”

Checking his wallet, he grimaced.  His funds were almost exhausted.  Well...all but a thick wad of nearly worthless company script. 

The contract had SEEMED to be on the square when he signed on to provide security for a corporate facility.  Decent pay, full technical support, and even a guarantee of mech replacement should the worst happen.

Unfortunately, as they say, the devil was in the details.  The pay turned out to be in company script, spendable only in the company store, at vastly inflated prices, the support turned out to be a collection of barely trained apprentices, and mech replacement....

Raising his voice, David snarled at the bartender.  “Another.  And if there's a decent newsrag on this dustball, one of those too.”

The old Centurion David had been driving might not have been much to look at, but it was a solid machine, and he'd rode it well.  When the Combine raiders had come calling, he'd more than accounted for himself, downing a Panther and a Jenner before being forced to eject when the raider leader's Phoenix Hawk had managed to get behind him and punch a laser through his mech's back armor, igniting his remaining ammunition.  He'd only barely managed to eject before the old mech went up in a ball of fire.

David supposed it was at least partially his own fault for not reading the contract carefully enough.  The paper did indeed specify a replacement mech, but buried in the fine print was a clause that allowed the company to substitute “A suitable alternate unit, with monetary compensation for variances in value.”.

What that meant to David, in the end, was that he was handed the control codes to the Panther he'd just blown into near scrap metal, and a pile of the aforementioned company script.

Now, repairing a shot-up mech is never cheap, even under the best of conditions.  Trying to do so on the wrong side of the border to get parts, added on top of the need to deal with a company well aware of the fact that he was essentially a captive market....What monies he had soon evaporated.

Three months later, he finally had a functional mech and an almost empty wallet.  Assuming the repairs held up under field conditions that is.  It had taken parts from half a dozen scrapped Panthers to piece David's new ride back into shape, and he wasn't certain everything would hold together exactly as intended.  Oh, it all looked good on the test readouts, but until it was REALLY stressed, he wouldn't be sure.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the bartender dropping a paper onto the bar in front of him and setting a beer next to it.

Tossing a couple Davion house-bills on the bar, David sighed and flipped the paper open.  Taking a sip of the barely cool brew, he quickly found himself scanning the ad section.  The sort of jobs to be found there would be sneered at by more upscale mercenaries, but at this point beggars couldn't afford to be too choosy.

About halfway down the page, he stopped.

WANTED: Skilled warriors, technicians and expedition crew for investigative expedition to DC space. No combat expected but maybe required. Must have own tools of the trade. Room, Board and Transportation provided to destination. Payment by shares of any valuables recovered. For details contact Johannes @ Box 270.

Nodding slightly to himself, he thought this just might be the one. 

Risky, and only a potential payoff, instead of a regular paycheck, but potentially...Besides, they were going across the border into DC space.  Who knew, he might get a chance at a better mech, or at least some spare parts for his current ride.  And at very least, he wouldn't be stuck in a dive bar on a Davion craphole.

[SethsMatches]

(Say what you want about this planet being the arse end of nowhere but these people know how to have fun. They may never have heard about a Slow-Fox hover-cross but this little ‘jig’ of theirs is fantastic!) Kiva thought to herself as the farmer’s New Year’s party swirled around her.

3… 2… 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!

As the party erupted into cheers Kiva flopped down onto a hay bale next to the farmer who’d invited her to this New Year’s shindig.

“Thank you for inviting me. You people know how to dance and have a good time.”

“Ain’t nothing to it! Least I could do after what you done.” The farmer said through his happy alcohol haze.

“Did you know that the last tech we had out here said that the entire hip actuator assembly would have to be replaced to get that cattlemech running again. Ain’t no hobbling cattlemech with a gammy hip gonna keep up with the herd. You saved me and mine a lot of heartache miss. I mean that.”

While she’d had to work more hours than she’d quoted to get the cattlemech running again she’d made enough to get by a while longer and the challenge of finding the real fault had been worth it. The ankle balance sensor had fallen out of alignment and had been trying to force the hip actuators to overcompensate for a tilt that wasn’t there, which had led to the hip locking up to prevent the leg shearing itself off. It was the odd footprints that had given it away.

“Gammy feet” she chuckled to herself, “Reminds me of this Commando that came in during my time with the 26th …”
It was only once she’d finished telling her story that she realised the farmer may have no idea that she was referring to the 26th Lyran Guards and the Lyran front of the Fourth Succession War – it was annoying how many FedSunners were ignorant of just how well the Lyrans had done against the Draconis Combine, but that was not a thought for such fun times.

“If I may suggest miss, you shouldn’t stay in a place like this. The way you told that story tells me you need a bit of adventure in your life to keep you sane. Get of this rock while you still can so you can visit us one day.” He said with a knowing wink.

“Not until you dance with me one last time” she demanded as she pulled him into the music and firelight.

When checking the newsfeeds the next day:

Fallon Tribune
02-01-3033
AM Edition
Classified Section

WANTED: Skilled warriors, technicians and expedition crew for investigative expedition to DC space. No combat expected but maybe required. Must have own tools of the trade. Room, Board and Transportation provided to destination. Payment by shares of any valuables recovered. For details contact Johannes @ Box 270.

(I wonder if they’ll take me on their little adventure) she thought as she began typing up an interview request and prepped her credentials.

[Malich]

Office 31
2278 Mirnada Davion Avenue
Port Miranda
03-01-3033 - 13:54Z

Twenty five C-Bills a day rented you a very basic office on the second floor of the a three storey brick and glass office block in the middle of the North East warehouse district. Mutt had paid up front for 5 days and scheduled meetings once every hour to ensure that he had time to do a quick interview, do a background check and get a drink before the next applicant arrived. The morning of the first day had been a total bust. Four applicants, none of them with anything to really offer the mission and one of them who had outright lied about his qualifications.

Mutt straightened the room as he waited for the next candidate. The table was cleared of papers, the 2 chairs were reset at opposite sides, Mutt's angled so his back was to the wall opposite the door and the window was to his left so he could watch people coming and going.

Mutt looked at the document pack for the next candidate, Reslo, Gunner. Mechwarrior. Owner operator though it didn't specify what he piloted. No details of his history though a simple data search indicated that a Gunner Reslo was listed as having taken part in the Games on Solaris VII. the age was right and a grainy picture gave Mutt something to work with if this person arrived. Mutt stared out the window and saw a man who almost matched the picture on the file. This man was older, a little worn around the edges. Mutt caught a glance of his reflection in the window and smiled to himself "Which of us isn't I guess."

Mutt waited for a couple of minutes before there was a knock at the door to the little office and the office "secretary" opened it and poked her head round. "Your two o'clock Mr Rabagliati" Mutt nodded and waved for her to let the man in. The man who entered showed a confident air, a touch of arrogance perhaps but that was not uncommon in MechWarriors, Mutt himself was guilty of it from time to time.

"Ah, Mr Reslo?"   

Reslo nodded and offered his hand across the desk. The grip was firm but not a trial of strength unlike the faker this morning. " Mr...? your mentioned in the reply to my message to the box number."

"My name is Johannes Rabagliati. You can call me Mutt, most folks find it easier"

"Rabagl... Um... yes. Mutt is easier. It is a pleasure to meet you Mutt."

At a gesture, the man pulled out the second chair and dropped into it without ceremony. The Secretary asked if either of them wanted a drink but they both declined and she left with a nod and a smile.

"I see from your reply you're a MechWarrior. May i ask what you pilot?"

"Currently I have a slightly modified Ostroc that I picked up after the war. My ride of preference is the Warhammer, but I lost my last 'hammer, and had to make do with what I could find"

Mutt could tell there was a story there but he knew he'd have to wait for the warrior to be comfortable to share it. "Ah, well at least you found something. I am currently without a 'Mech. But that's hopefully going to change if this little expedition is successful.

Reslo nodded and shifted slightly in his chair, moving into a more attentive position. "I'm glad you brought that subject up as I've been rather curious about your advert. It's a little enigmatic, but I suppose a bit of vagueness is often critical to most military missions. can you elaborate?"

"This isn't military per se, in fact I'd prefer it to be a simple trip out and back. No little adventures if you will. It's a property recovery mission. I can't be much more specific than that until we're away from Fallon II. But there is the potential for shares of a profit that could be a six to seven figure sum for each full share holder... If everything goes as planned."

"And what sort of remuneration are we talking about if it does NOT go as planned?"

Mutt had been expecting this question, Reslo was the first person who had asked it showing that he'd been on the wrong end of a bad deal before. He hoped the answer would be sufficient for the man.

"Ah, well, that's the gamble. I can provide food, board and travel to the site and for a limited period on planet. Probably not more than a month. After that I can provide travel onward travel to Engadine or Unzmarkt. You'll get basic maintenance while you're with the unit. But that will be it. At best it's a break even proposition for 6-7 months."

"hmm... So in essence you are describing a make or break business venture with absolutely no guarantee of eventual pay-off. Tell me why else, beyond your estimated return on investment, someone should sign up with you Mr. Mutt?"

Mutt smiled and looked down at the table top. "Yup. Doesn't that sound like fun?" Mutt looked back up and let the smile drop from his face.

 "Yeah, that's about it. If it works, it pays off big. if it sort of works it pays off a little. But if someone opens their trap and blabs there's a good chance we end up with nothing but an addendum to the Drac's Death to Mercs edict." Mutt let that sink in and then delivered the counter offer. "So that's the offer. 6 months guaranteed food and lodgings with the chance to make a fortune or lose everything. But i know it's the best deal on Fallon II or any world within three jumps unless you want to sign on with the 42nd and pay at the company store?"

Reslo nodded and Mutt suspected that he already knew that this was the best offer around currently.

"So, Drac space eh? Well I've never been to the Combine and to quote a famous tactician: Certainty of death." He raised one hand in front of his eyes, finger and thumb pressed firmly together "small chance of success. What are we waiting for?"

The two men shook hands on an agreement sealed.

"Then welcome aboard Mr Reslo. I've got a few checks to make before I give you final confirmation but i don't see it being anything significant. Unless there is something you want to tell me now?"

Mutt noted Reslo pause for a heartbeat, he already knew Reslo had secrets but now he wondered if there was something serious he wasn't telling him?

"Nothing significant to me Mutt. I'm just a 'Mech jock marooned here on Fallon II looking for a way off. When do we begin?

"Well, if you want to start moving your gear from wherever it is currently, we'll be travelling on the Dropship "Stainless Chrome". I'll comm' Captain Steele to let you know she is coming. Bunk assignments could be a bit fluid though. just to warn you."

"Ermmm,  what sort of dropper might the Stainless Chrome be?"

Mutt couldn't help but smile again. "Well, she started out as a Union 'Mech Hauler. Right now she's a big empty hold. with a couple of gantries remaining. Like is said, this is all a bit of a shoestring currently. But she flies and she'll carry what we have so far. we may need to source a cargo hauler on Idlewind depending upon the nature of what we recover. You, as an owner operator, will be entitled to a full share of the profit after costs have been recovered."

Mutt saw Reslo's jaw grind slightly at the mention of the ship class but he fought past it. "I dislike Unions but I know that we don't always get what we want in life. If I bring my 'Mech there later today could they square it away then? Only I'm paying a hefty daily tab to keep it down at the militia 'parking garage."

"Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem. If you're first in you can have first crack at a Gantry if there's anything you need doing. Labour'll be provided but you'll have to supply parts for anything beyond the usual 100, 500 or thousand hour services.

"Sounds fair. I can manage that."

"I'll let Captain Steele Know you're on your way then. Any other questions Mr Reslo?"

"When do we lift - I have a few loose ends to tie up here on Fallon before we go."

"I'm aiming for departure on the 8th. I have 4 days of interviews and then 3 days to wrap up and get everything squared on-board."

"Sounds good. I look forward to working with you Mutt."

"Likewise. Lets hope you're still saying that in 6 months"

[monbvol]

Office 31
2278 Mirnada Davion Avenue
Port Miranda
06-01-3033 - 08:58Z

Mutt watched out the window as his next interview walked up to the building.  He had reviewed her jacket and holovids.

As he waited for her to trek up the stairs he savored what was left of his morning coffee.  He was glad this would be one of the last interviews he'd have to do.  The monotony was starting to get to him.




Katherine hated this world.  She hated most worlds.  She belonged in space.  She hoped the coffee would at least be good as she was still adjusting to the local time.  As she entered the office she could smell the pot in the corner.

"Ah, Ms Greene. Tea and Coffee in the corner if you want to help yourself to a cup and grab a seat."

"Thank you Mister Rabagliati.  And please call me Kathy.  Everybody does."  Kathy responded as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"And you may call me Mutt." Mutt took a sip of his coffee and leant back in his seat. "I hope you don't mind if this seams a little cookie cooker but i've been doing these for a few days now and it's all sort of blurring together. What's made you pick this job over signing on with one of the trade guilds or shipping lines?"

"I've heard from the other applicants milling about town that this is a high risk high reward job.  Frankly that is what I need right now."  Kathy answered as she savored her own cup of coffee.

"Well, I can see from your jacket that you scored high on aircraft handling though your gunnery scores are a little below average though still a passing grade. I assume you can handle yourself in a fight? I need capable combat pilots who can escort a Dropship and provide close air support for the ground team if necessary."

"I will get your ship where it is going no problem.  If you'd like a first hand demonstration I have a spare suit that will fit you."  Kathy answered before taking a drink from her coffee.

"Ah, thank you but no. I'm too much of a fan of both feet on the ground. Well, at most ten meters up in a 'Mech cockpit. To be fair i'm not expecting trouble. But. not expecting it and not planning for it are two different things."

Mutt makes a few notes on his data slate.

"Well, I've only had 2 pilot respondents so far so the slot is open if you want it. Do you have any questions?"

"When do we leave?"  Kathy swigged the last of her cup of coffee.

[Grognard]

2 JAN 3033
Fallon II
Spaceport
Mech Bays

Jenney Waller was giving Scandanavian (Norwegian) instruction to Ivor Rojas(10) when Stephan Rojas entered
the small offices being shared as business and family spaces. She caught Stephan's eye and gave him a long
slow wink .. an obvious unsaid 'I told you so'.  Stephan just shook his head and patted Ivor's head. 

A few seconds later, Angelina Rojas ( 8 ) reacted to his presence with a squeal of joy. "DADDY!  Uncle Thud let
me run a 1st level diagnostic on SIGRUN's navigation system!  Lo hice realmente buena!  Uncle Thud said so!
Can we go for an ICEE treat at the FoodKourt? Ivor's Scani homework is almost done! Jeg har øvd mitt språk i
dag! I helped with the laundry today, and my room is clean.  Aunt Jenny says my language schoolwork is way
ahead of schedule. Så kan vi gå till Glass parlor?" This was all rattled off in one nearly incoherent breath,
in a mixture of Spanish, Scandanavian and English, which left the little female breathless and still hyper excited.

Stephan laughed and scooped her up in a hug, burying his face in her wild mane of blonde hair.
"Settle down, my little Valkyrie.  I have some important news for you and Ivor."
At the mention of his name, Ivor turned his steel grey eyes to his father.
"I had to let Ms. Katherine go.  We could not agree on her pay rate and request for an upgraded apartment."
Stephan sighed at the sight of Jenny's upraised eyebrow. "I'm really sorry, kids."

Ivor blinked twice, then shrugged. "It is okay, Father. It was nice to have a new teacher around, but Aunt
Jenny is still the best Language instructor around.  Look at 'Lina... she speaks 5 languages now, and I saw
her looking up new language courses today.  And that is because of Aunt Jenny."  Ivor closed his tablet.
"Father, we had hoped you would find a new wife ... I gather Ms Katherine did not meet the expectations. 
As for money: I know that Academy won't be cheap."

Stephan grunted. Then changed the subject. "Kiddos, go get your outdoor gear on.. we will go out to eat
tonight; maybe Mickey Cheeses' for pizza?  Followed by a visit to the ice cream palor, perhaps?"
That pronouncement instigated a spirited rush to the family quarters by the children.
Stephan hissed an exhalation thru his teeth as they left.

Jenny Waller spoke up for the first time. "So the bitch tried the blackmail routine, eh?  Which one? Tattle
to the Duchess or 'gee, I'm pregnant'?  And where is she, anyway? oh, BTW: I Told You So."

Stephan groaned and dropped to an office chair.  "Okay, Ms. Senior Agent Jenny Waller, late of the FWLM
Intelligence... She tried to pull the tattler trick.  But she also said she wasn't pregnant.  Apparently,
stupidity during intercourse is my personal trait.  I left her on the side of Highway 1, about 80 km outta
town.  But I also stopped by her apartment and planted my 'stolen' souvenier laser pistol and some poorly
forged ID in her luggage.  Finally, I called the Constabulary to report the theft and I had fired her on
suspicion.  I'll let the Constables find the evidence... it'll give any statement she gives nearly zero
weight.  And thanks for telling me so.  Now what is this I hear about an expedition into Snake space? 
Finally, what DO my financials look like?"

Jenny shook her head at him.
"First, I was never an agent. I was an office clerk for a MW in Intelligence.
Second, the 'suspicion of theft' trick and the forged ID was a good idea.
Third, you have an interview with a Mr. Johannes on the 4th, in the afternoon. 
Last, we have 19,000 Cbills and 33,000 Kroner on hand.  We may get an additional 4000 kroner from the
militia, if they decide to buy the maintenance manuals we put up for sale. Most of that 4000 will go to pay
for the last month's rent on the Mech bay, the apartments, the groundcar and the utilities.

Then there is the 5 tons of parts in storage and the 25,000 Eagles in the bank at Salem.  It seems our
numbers were just right there: the monthly interest is just enough to pay the monthly storage bill.
Finally, there is the last 6 tons of weapons components we have for sale on New Avalon.  The auction house
has put 249,000 Cbills in escrow for the previous sales and states that this last lot will probably go
between 40k and 60k Cbills.  Given a decent rate of interest, there might be just enough to send Ivor to
either Aitutaki Academy or Point Barrow Academy.  Barring a tenfold increase in finances, NAIS is out of the
question entirely."

Stephan rubbed his jaw and looked down the hallway to verify the children were getting ready.  "With her gift
of language and sunny personality, Angelina might make a wonderful diplomat someday.  But if I can't afford
to send Ivor to NAIS, I sure can't afford the University of Vienna on Terra.  Even if Comstar gave her a
scholarship.  But I think I'm worrying too far into the future.  What info do you have on this expedition gig?"

Jenny put down her stylus as her husband walked into the office. "Well, Stephan, from what I can dig up; it
seems to be honest.  Operating on a shoestring, but honest.  The clerk in the Starport office told me they
rented some cheap office space for a few days and they seem to be connected with that UNION cargoship out on
the west pad, but real info is sparse."

Thud spoke in his thick Southern Norwegian accent. "Ah gets a guud gut feeling, boss. Ah tink day be okay. 
SIGRUN is a happy 'Mech.  Ah tink it be time t' leave dis place."

Stephan nodded. "Okay.  I'll interview and hopefully we can beat feet soon.  For now;" he paused to check his
holstered sidearm as the children swarmed back into the office, ready to leave. "For now, let's have some fun!"

[Warclaw]

Office 31
2278 Miranda Davion Avenue
Port Miranda
05-01-33 - 11:00Z 



David nodded to the secretary as she showed him in, and softly thanked her before she left the room.

"Mr Navarre?"

Turning to where his prospective new employer sat, he nodded.  "Yes.  Etienne Navarre, though I go by "David" most of the time.  Easier for a lot of people to pronounce."

“I grew up in a very, eclectic, household. names are not a problem to me Mr Navarre. Coffee ad tea in the corner if you want it. Then you can grab a seat."

David shrugged.  "Your secretary made sure I had a fresh cup while I waited.  I believe I'm good for the moment."  He sat and waited for Mutt to list out the details of the job.

"I'm in need of a small unit to protect a recovery missing in DC space. The specifics of the mission and the location are need to know until we're off Fallon. It has the potential to be fairly proffitable if we're successful. It also has the potential to be a total loss if it goes wrong. The bare minimum is a 6 month contract. food, board and basic maintenance provided as well as drop-off on either Engadine or Unzmarkt. Worst case scenario is 6 months from now you're in the same situation you are now but half way across the Inner Sphere."

David sighed.  "About what I expected then.  High risk, and only the potential of reward....Normally I'd pass, but..."  He shrugged.  "My personal fortunes have waned a bit over the last year, and opportunities don't seem to be quite as numerous as they once were."

Smiling ruefully, he chuckled cynically.  'At least I might have the chance to pick up some spare parts for my new mech."

"Anything is possible. May i ask what you pilot currently?"

"A Panther.  Used to drive a Centurion, but I took an ammo hit on my last job, and that was what my employer came up with for a replacement mech.  Took quite a bit to get it back up to snuff.  As you might imagine, parts for a Panther are hard to come by on this side of the border."

"Ah, yes I can imagine. Then yes, you should be a little better on the other side if we're lucky. To be fair i am hoping this will be a non-combat special but i'd be a fool if i planed for the best."

David grinned.  "If you wish to hear the gods laugh, tell them your plans."

Mutt taps his breast pocket. "Oh no, These stay with me until we're safely outbound from our destination"

David nodded.  "Good, you aren't a fool then.  Always a good trait in an employer.  Two people can keep a secret only if one of them is dead."

"I'll share when it's safe to do so. Hard to plan a company scale operation when 90% of the people involved don't know what's going on."

David shrugged.  "Until you get on site, 95% of the mission will be canned anyway.  An escort mission is an escort mission.  We'll have plenty of time to sweat local details en-route.  And I've yet to see a mission that command didn't have to scramble to change plans on due to incorrect or incomplete info."

"Yeah, lack of info cost me my 'Mech. Not planning to put too many folks through that little upset"

Spreading his hands wide, David sighed.  "I'm more concerned with co-ordination between the pilots.  Putting together a team like this is possible, but without time to work together...even a good amount of sim-time would be useful...it'll be hard to get the mech-jocks to work as a true team."

"I'm aware of that, but we're short on time, money and opportunity. We can do some limited training by linking mechs together but that's about as much use as playing computer games. I'm hoping we'll have some time on arrival for a little more realism."

David nodded.  "That would be helpful.  Are you able to share the rough T.O.E. of the expedition?"

"Mr Navarre, at this point I'm not even sure if  half the people i am interviewing are even going to show up." Mutt smiles and laughs as he says this.

David laughed.  "That's about par for ANY merc op.  Why do you think most units are constantly hiring?  Between drop-outs, no-shows, and wanna-be's with padded brag-sheets you learn to go with the 80/20 rule.  Figure 80% of your prospects are crap, and 20% MIGHT be worth a second look."

“I'm doing a bit better that that so far. I've had to weed out maybe half of who i've seen for not having a ride, or not being willing to work for promises.

David shrugged.  "I'd expect to lose a few more along the way.  If you're lucky you won't have too many ditch before lift-off.  And if I were you I'd have a plan in place for if you find that any of your hire's brag-sheets and their actual skills don't exactly match up.  Job I had a couple years back, we had to fire almost half a company for just that reason."

“Ah, I'm prepared. I may not be some plannet hopping wannabe, but i've run a business and done the dirty work for it. *mutt lets a half smile cross his face. "I assume you're not being economical with the truth on here?" *gestures to the data slate

David shrugged.  "It's a brag-sheet.  Everything on it is true.  Now, I'll admit I left a couple jobs off the list, but I didn't think you'd care how well I washed dishes for beer money while in the Academy.  And I don't think I have to tell you that I didn't include any references that I thought might trash my rep.  But that's standard stuff."

"That's fine as long as there's nothing here that's going to bring the MRBC or worse down on the rest of us when we're out there?"

David laughed.  "No, nothing like that.  Maybe a few outraged fathers and a forgotten bar-bill or two, but nothing that'll follow me to you."

"Over due tabs come out of your share.... so do child maintenance payments."

"No kids...that I know of.  And the bar tabs are on the other side of the Confederation.  If I ever get back out that way I'll settle up, but I rather doubt you'll see them spending thousands of c-bills to chase down fifty or so."

"Fair enough, Unless you have any questions I'll spend a bit of time tonight verifying a few things and will contact you tomorrow with confirmation?"

David nodded.  "Sounds good to me.  Where are we setting up for loading?"

"Dropship Stainless Chrome, she the battered looking mostly Union Class out at the field. Once I've contacted you with confirmation I'll let Captain Steele know you're on your way."

"Got it.  Do you want me to contact you?  Or should I wait for a call?"

"Wait for the call. If you've heard nothing in 24 hours just drop me a message through the Box270 address."

David nodded and stood, extending his hand.  "I'll expect to hear from you then."

*shakes * "Have a good day Mr Navarre. I'll be in touch"

[Malich]

(I know some folks still have interviews to post but I need to move onto to posts about the departure so Mutt is jumping forward to the night of departure)


Cemetery Hill
North Spoon Ranch
07-01-3033 21:00Z

Mutt walked into the fenced area that formed the burial place of nearly 500 years of his family, ranch hands with no other family and a few treasured pets and horses. The hillside was predominantly scrub but this section has grass that was as well tended as that of the finest lawns of the great houses of the Inner Sphere. Trees lined the white, picket fence and everything was immaculately tended.

Every generation had expanded the plot which meant there was only the vaguest of logical progression as to whom was buried where but Mutt knew exactly where he was going. He stepped up to the newest grave in the cemetery. The grave was marked with a simple headstone and after a few years there was barely a ripple in the grass to show where it had been cut to allow his Grandfather to be placed in the earth. The graves to the left held his parents, the one to the right his grandmother. This little patch of ground represented his closest family and potentially his biggest regret.

As he stopped he pulled the hat off his head and held it down by his side. "Hello folks." He stopped, he always found it kind of difficult to stand on a dark hillside talking to four patched of stone and grass.

"I'm leaving tomorrow and am not sure exactly when I'll be back, or what state I'll be in when I do. I'm going after Grandfather's treasure and after that it's anyone's guess where I'll go next. But it's in my will that even if i don't make it back alive, I'm to be shipped back here one way or the other to be put here beside you all."

The wind stirred the warm air of the evening and rustled the branches of the Terran Oak Tree that had been planted here by the first Rabagliati to claim this patch of Fallon II.

"Tom and the others say they'll keep this plot just the way it should be and I've left a little grant to make sure they're not out of pocket doing so." He looked around, below him the Ranch was lit and there were signs of activity in the house which now housed twenty of the ranch hands in comfort and showed only a few traces of the former occupants.

"The ranch is doing well. Tom says the market's good this year and he expects about 1500 C-Bills a head and he's got nearly two thousand head to send to market. He also says he thinks he's going to be able to stud that young stallion Grandfather got over in Morristown."

In the distance the glow of Port Matilda could just be seen where the streetlights reflected off the cloud that hung down that way. "Tom's also going to keep that paddock over on the South Downs free. He's had offers from a few developers after it for the view. He's said that if I can come back with 100k he'll let me have it. If think once I'm done with wherever this takes me I'll build a nice little house there and think about settling down. I've put a few C-Bills into a few little ventures that i hope will have fruited by the time I get back. I'll live off the proceeds and, if Idlewind is all the books says it is, the proceeds from the lecture circuit and the vast wealth I hope to bring home."

Mutt took once last look around the Cemetery. He knew that there were nearly four hundred people, six hundred pets and at least a dozen horses in the ground around him. Everyone of them had built the ranch and the family to the point where he was now.

"Good Bye, I WILL be back."

He started back towards the gate but stopped himself and headed to the far end of the cemetery, the second oldest section of it. One of the graves there, marked with a stone shaped like a Cameron Star, held "Peter Julius Rabagliati, Husband, Father, Soldier. Despite his brotherhood he held onto his duty".

"I'm not sure if this is what you would have wanted Sir. But we're going looking for your lost post. I hope it can revive the Family."

Mutt firmly placed the hat back on his head and headed back to his trailer for what would be his last night on the Planet for a while.

[Malich]

(last one for a bit to let folks catch up  ;) )

"Office" of the Captain
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II

08-01-3033 - 08:37Z

"Well, you'll be pleased to know we have the control systems back on line and we're repaired the damaged nacelle."

Mutt nodded and dropped the drinking bulb onto the table. The zero-G capable cups were not necessary for when the ship was grounded on planet but Captain Steele didn't keep anything around that wasn't usable in every circumstance.

"That's good to know. How are we for supplies?"

Steele pulled out a data slate and started tapping in commands. "The Ship was tanked up yesterday, we'll do another top this evening to ensure we've got full tanks for the journey. That should see it to the destination and then out again. We've got enough consumables on board for three months. I've got an agreed transfer of three further months Miyada. We'll be a bit over weight by they point but we should work through it before we hit Idlewind."

"You have a route planned then?"

"Mostly. There's some flexibility built in at a few of our waypoints. But I've checked the shipping rosters for most of the major cargo lines and pre-booked slots on about half the jumps where we're committed to specific routes. In some of those cases we should be in system for only a few hours transferring from one jumpship to the next. There's a few jumps where we'll be on the same ship and we have to wait for a few days for them to recharge. Can't be helped. We're looking at an arrival date in system of around the middle of April. It's then a 9 day run to the planet. that's the worst case."

"It's not as bad as it could have been. The joys of travelling half way across the Inner Sphere."

"Very true." Steele dropped the data slate on the desk. "Look, don't take this the wrong wa. But I'm concerned about the viability of this little enterprise. We're spending money hand over fist. No, scratch that, you're spending money hand over fist. You've got to be getting close to the bottom of the barrel?"

Mutt ran a finger through his hair and then scratched his chin through his beard.

"I've got a bit of cash left. I've got transit permits for us and that cost a bit more than I thought it was going to but I have a little slack for the unexpected. But yes, by the time we get to Idlewind I'll have enough to get us out system and maybe to hire a second Dropship if we need it. but we might have to sell some stuff locally to pay for it."

"Not filling me with confidence here Mutt."

"Yeah, I know, but I got a fixed amount from the sale of the Ranch and a bit left over from my payoff. And I made a promise to do this."

[Latro]

Port Matilda
Fallon II
6 January 3033

“Ain’t you gone yet, hooji?”

Haile’s voice came from amid the high growing potted plants of his patio. The tops of one such cluster shook as Haile harvested some fruit or vegetable.

“Actually...” Gunner hesitated “I took your advice...”

From behind the flora Haile grunted but said nothing.

“Looks like I’ll be shipping out in less than a week... Its not a great job. Not even a good job, but...”

“Eet’s a way off dis lousey rock, yes?” Haile emerged from the forest of pots, his concentration on the wooden pipe he was tamping something into. “You kno’... dis lousey rock eet my home. Bin here all mah life. Tis quiet. And beautiful in eet’s own way. An’ safe. Mostly. Damn Dracs only invaded once in my lifetime, an’ dey must’ve been pretty damned stoopid Snakes to come dis far into Sun space. Hrmmf...” he produced a match, lit it and held it to his pipe in one fluid, practiced motion. He huffed on the pipe, drawing the flame deep into the bowl, sucking the smoke into his lungs. He held the smoke for a while then exhaled, coughing lightly. He extended the pipe to Gunner, who took it, produced his owner lighter and repeated the process. Gunner broke down into a fit of coughing as he handed the pipe back.

“I’m going to miss your pipe weed old man.” he paused, trying to gather the courage to say what he needed to tell Haile. “I’m going to miss...”

“Yeah, yeah... me too cul muet. You kin come back som’day an’ tell me all your lies. But ah t’ink you maybe never be by dis way ag’in.”

Was there a hint of tears in the old man’s eyes, or was it perhaps that they just looked glassy now that the effects of the pipe weed were settling in? Gunner could not tell. A tear rolled down from the corner of his own eye and he looked away, out into the rolling hills covered with dry brown grass. It WAS beautiful, in its own arid way. Gunner recalled that Haile’s own children had long ago grown up and left Fallon II, and that he had not heard from any of them for upwards over a decade now. He looked back at his aged friend, who was lighting another match. He waited until the process with the pipe was repeated before he spoke.

“Thank you Haile. There’s a lot of people in my life I should have thanked. You are the first I’ve ever managed to say it to.”

Haile nodded and put his gnarled hand on Gunner’s shoulder. Squeezed. “Just you stay in touch Gunner. I don’ wanna be left wonderin’ whether if you dead or not. Right?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Staring out to the horizon, he thought of this mission, and fervently hoped that he could keep that promise...

[Warclaw]

Shaky Jake's Storage and Mech Warehouse
Bay #5
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II

07-01-3033 – 11:30Z


David snapped the now clean shotgun into its clip by the small container's door and stepped out.  Turning around he surveyed the small unit one last time before it was due to be moved over to his new employer's dropship.

The small cabin/living quarters built into a standard 8”x12” pressurized shipping container had been both costly and difficult to acquire a few years back, but it'd proven its worth many times over. 

Cabins, especially comfortable and clean ones were always at a premium on a dropship.  Many times you found yourself sharing a microscopic cabin with at least one other person.  This travel pod on the other hand, took up only a small amount of cargo space/mass, and while not roomy by any stretch of the imagination, could be customized easily, and was all David's.  It even hooked up via umbilical to any standard power and life support port so it could serve as a temporary shelter in case of loss of atmosphere.

Running through an imaginary check-list, David nodded as he went over each part of his usual pre-departure checks.

“Shotgun, Rifle, pistols, and ammunition cleaned, inspected and stowed...check.”

“Emergency Rations, two weeks worth, inspected and stowed...check.”

“Emergency Water rations, inspected and filled...check.”

“Med-Kit replenished, inspected, and stowed...check.”

“Furniture collapsed and secured to bulkheads...check.”

“Grav-couch/bunk inspected and gel-pad replaced...check.”

“Life support filters inspected/replaced...check.”

“Personal gear and clothing stowed and secured...check.”

“Electronics inspected...check.”

“Security system inspected...check.”

“Emergency pressure-suit in place and inspected...check”

“Tool kit inspected and secured...check.”

Smiling, David swung the small hatch closed and dogged it shut.  Now all that remained was transporting the unit to the ship and convincing the load-master to place it in a convenient spot.  Fortunately, he had a few extra cases of the local alcohol to use as a “lubricant” for any deals that needed to be made.

Stretching, he turned to where his mech stood silently.  In another minor stroke of good fortune, the design featured two hands, allowing it to pick up objects like his travel pod.  Moving the unit himself would allow him to make only one trip AND save a few C-bills.

[Dave Talley]

04-01-33 - 11:00Z - Franz Guderian

Franz walked into the office at 10:50am, if you aint 10 minutes early you are late is what dad always said.  He was wearing a de-militarized AEEC uniform with Lieutenant insignia. He approached the desk "good morning miss, I am Lieutenant Guderian, I have an 11 o'clock with Mr. Rabagliati, here are my records"
A few minutes later he went into the second office, and shook Mutt's hand. "Guten Tag Herr Rabagliati, how are things developing?"

Mutt replied "I think i'm getting there Mr Guderian, should be ready to lift on the 8th. I've looked over your Jacket and it's interesting reading. Though i'm not exactly sure why you're on Fallon II."

Franz sighed, "I missed a jumpship transfer and have been stuck here for the last 6 weeks waiting for a ship with a space, missed a chance to try out for the Kell Hounds"

Mutt nodded and made a note on his data slate. "So, what brings you to me rather than trying to re-book your trial with the Hounds?"
Franz perked up "they seem to have gone silent, at least the main unit, I got a message back from the recruiter office and aren't scheduling trials, so I assume that means they are out on a raid, or are at least out causing the Dracs trouble. So right now your ship is the only open slot getting off this rock, Fallon II is not as hot as Twycross, but its boring as hell, so I figure I get off planet, maybe make some money, maybe not, either way its gonna be a good story for future"

Mutt nodded "Well, I'll need to make a few basic background checks but I think we can find a slot on the ship for you. Assuming you have no questions or want to consider your options here on Fallon?"

"I am ready to go at your orders Mutt, spent enough time here already" Franz replied.

"Then I'll message you tomorrow once I've made the checks and tell you where to roll up. The departure date is the 8th so please be there no later than the 7th." Mutt stood and shook hands Franz smiled "looking forward to it Mutt"




07-01-33 0700Z
Port Matilda Militia Storage

Franz goes thru his checklist twice, packed up his mech bug out kit, bungeed it to the rear seat in the cockpit. Picked up his secondary bugout kit, loaded it into the cockpit,  updated both noteputers, along  with some Cbills and a autopistol, stowed one in each kit. He grabbed his neurohelmet and started the Beast up, picked up a pallet of Tharkad Amber Ale and walked over to the Burning Chrome to make introductions.

[Malich]

Number 2 Cargo Hold
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
08-01-3033 - 12:00Z

The Infantry bunk had started out as a pair of Intermodal shipping containers known by the archaic dimensions as "Forty Footers". Mutt had long known that space on the dropship would be at a premium and had decided that the easiest way for the 11 members of Mutt's scratch built infantry squad to live was to build their own accommodation. Mutt had used the Ranch's machine shop (and a few dozen donated man-hours of borrowed labour) to convert the 2 containers into some rough and ready living accommodation. The walls were timber and gypsum board, the bunks were timber framed. Everything was well made and looked like it came out of a well appointed house (some of it even had) but it certainly was not the sleek polymer and metal units you could buy off the shelf if you had the cash. Mutt considered them a masterpiece of architectural salvage.

One of them contained 8 bunks for the male member of the team roughly modelled on that of a combat Dropship or a submarine with a central walkway with 4 sets of bunks down 1 side and lots of storage space down the other. The second had a small room at one end for Mutt (a grand 8' x 8' x 8' 6") a second partitioned area for the two women of the unit to have some privacy and storage and then a small communal seating area for everyone to use. While not the most luxurious of spaces, the members of the team had been sleeping there for a few months prior to it being loaded onto the Dropship and now the space felt like home.

Mutts own room held a bed built on top of a storage unit. The bed had a flip down wooden top to allow it to serve as a map table or working surface. a pair of cupboards and a few collapsible seats for meetings. He had a few pictures on the walls though most of the space was set up for storage with hooks, shelving and lockers filling every space.

Mutt was putting everything back in those storage units having removed it before the containers were moved into their new home in a dark corner of the storage bay. The quiet of the room was disturbed though as the clangs and thumps of other containers and pallets were placed onto the roof to make use of the space there.

He started with the important but rarely used items. His neurohelmet and cooling vest went into the storage unit under the bed and that was locked with a padlock. He wasn't worried about it being stolen but he was always careful with it. His clothing was split between the drawers under the bed and the wardrobes. The books, research and maps for the mission went in a locked cabinet on the back wall and his combat gear, weapons, ready ammunition, webbing, armour went into another locked cabinet next to it. Ready pack in the alcove, bag of personal effects in another.  Mutt's work was disturbed by a knock on the door.

"Come on in... be careful, it opens outwards." The door opened and Mel Jones stepped in. "Everyone squared away?"

"Yeah, most of us don't have as much room to store stuff as you do." she let out a light chuckle and dropped onto one of the chairs.

"Rank hath it's privileges."

"So I gather. The ammo pallet was just delivered for the R.C.L. Thirty rounds of AP, thirty of HE. Not a huge amount but should be fine for a little jaunt in the country. The small arms pallet is stored as well, should be able to train for a bit and still handle a few fire fights if absolutely necessary."

"Yeah, let's try to avoid that as best we can."

"Good, I like my body without any extra hole in it." She looked around again. "Any last minute things that need doing? I'm kind of at a loose end for a bit."

"Nothing springs to mind. Going to see Ben before you go?"

"No, he was quite determined that if I went off with you I should consider myself on ignore. Total child."

"Ah well, his loss."

"That's what I thought. So, nothing?"

"Not a sausage. Go for a nap? Go for a last walk on the surface of a planet that you'll get for the next 4 months?"

"I could. But I was kind of hoping for something a little more... enjoyable."

Mutt dropped a stack of data disks into a drawer and pushed it closed as he turned and leant against it. "Where you now?"

"Come on Joe. How long has it been since you and I last had any fun? Blake's blood. I'm a woman, you're a man... do I have to spell it out? And it's not like we haven't before."

Mutt had to admit he was tempted. Mel had what could be best described as a womanly figure and she did look very good clothed, naked or transitioning between the two. She smiled.

"Everyone else is out, the bay is noisy" She smiled coquettishly "And I promise to be quiet."

"You're a bad influence. You know that right? Shut the door."

[monbvol]

[ooc]Bored and feel like doing some writing.  As such you all get some character background and internal monologue.  :P[/ooc]

Somewhere on Deck 3
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
08-01-3033 -12:00

Kathy's Corsair was loaded and there was now nothing to do but wait.  Growing up a spacer she knew her way around just about every dropship in service.  With her guitar in tow she found herself in a quiet spot on Deck 3 where the accustics were near perfect and out of the way of everyone else busy doing something important.  She started strumming away putting notes together with no real attempt to play a particular song.  She had a few offers from travelers to try and make her famous but she knew her talent with the guitar was too limited for such nonsense.

Taking a quick break she nibbled on some cheese.  The trip ahead of them promised a lot of micro gravity time and after lunch she would find some place to get some exercise to help prepare for it.  Resuming strumming on her guitar Kathy nodded at a passing crew member.

Another pause to finish her sandwhich and she re-tuned her guitar to actually try and play a song she heard while passing through the Filtvelt system.  As she strummed away she knew she was missing notes but it seemed like she was covering it up rather well.  She never learned the name of the song she was now playing or where it originally came from.  That didn't matter to her though as she liked trying to play it.  Once she finished the song she downed the last of her lunch.

To bide her time Kathy changed the tuning again to play another song.  This one was a much easier one to play and she knew she needed the time for her lunch to settle before getting to work.  This tune was the theme song to a very strange animated series traded from another passing jumpship.  While the show was almost incomprehensible, something about this strange self aware muffin fighting crime and this Chinese chef that created him and now pursues him, she could play the theme song and found it kind of catchy.

She ended the song and cleaned up from her lunch.  She almost immediately regretted having played that song as she now thought about her family's ship sitting in line for repairs at a yard somewhere.  Putting it out of her mind she walked back to her bunk space.  The walk was almost a daze for her she had made it so many times as a guest of a passenger, to lend a hand fixing something, or some other reason.  One didn't grow up on a jumpship that has been in the family for generations without learning to fix something and there always seemed to be some reason for her to be sent aboard the dropships traveling on her family's jumpship.

Putting her guitar away in her lock box she got changed into something more suitable for a workout.

"Well no more putting it off Kathy.  Time to get to work."  She said to herself as she left her bunk.

[Malich]

(yes, ok, i lied, i'm still posting stuff)

Mutt's room
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
08-01-3033 - 13:30Z

Mutt disentangled himself from the warm, inviting (too damned inviting) form of Mel and rolled off his bunk onto the wooden floor. He dug through the pile of clothing on the floor and separated his jeans, boxers and shirt from the floor. He debated putting them back on but decided it was best time to move onto something a little more fitting. Dumping the jeans and shirt into the little alcove he had set for laundry he reached into his wardrobe for a set of camouflage fatigue trousers and an olive drab T-Shirt. Turning to face the bed he smiled.

"You going to just stand there and admire? or are you going to find my underwear?"

Mutt looked the woman up and down as she sat up on the bed. She was lean, but curvy, well muscled and quite beautiful in an understated way. She sat on the bed totally confident and unconcerned wrapping her dark hair back into a ponytail.

"I don't know. The view is quite nice."

She let out a bark of laughter and threw a pillow at him which he caught with ease. "I thought you were and officer and a gentleman?"

"Not in the military, not an office. Sold my land, not a gentleman."

"Bummer. Guess I'm just going to have to find them myself."

She dropped onto the floor and began pulling on items of clothing as she found them. Mutt noted the underwear was quite feminine and contrasted with the utilitarian cut of the near matching trousers and shirt that Mutt wore. He watched as she dressed, slipped her side arm back into the holster on her hip. She stepped over to him and lifted herself onto her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"You know, we could always make this a serious thing?"

Mutt smiled but shook his head. "Not right now. Maybe once I've got this done with an I'm not a pauper any more."

"You know that's not what I'm after. But ok. Just remember, I'm not going to wait forever. Lots of talent on this ship now."

She winked and left without another word. Mutt straightened then bed, returned the pillow to where it belonged and dropped the cover back down across it. Walking to another of the little alcoves he moved the mesh they had decided to use to Zero-G proof the room and pulled out the belt and holster from inside. He strapped it to his waist and then reached in for the wooden box.

"Damn things been in the family for three hundred years. Time someone used it."

He popped the latches and pulled out the antique laser pistol. Slipping a power cell into it he was rewarded with the tell tale green LED to show it was functional before slipping it into the holster.

"Right, duty calls."

[guardiandashi]

Dropport Bar
Port Matilda Landing Field
january 3rd 3033
 After another morning surveying the "possibles" Karen checked off the last option on her list, and sighed, Yet another planet down with nothing at all worth wasting her time on.  The 2 'Mechs she had found were 1 step from scrap, and even if they were repairable it would take months or years and there was no way she could afford it.  The fighter was worse and would have been essentually paying the owner for the privlege of taking it away to scrap it.
a last look at the adds and

Fallon Tribune
02-01-3033
AM Edition
Classified Section

WANTED: Skilled warriors, technicians and expedition crew for investigative expedition to DC space. No combat expected but maybe required. Must have own tools of the trade. Room, Board and Transportation provided to destination. Payment by shares of any valuables recovered. For details contact Johannes @ Box 270.

caught her eye. 
Well not sure I really want to go to DC space, but at least its something a little different, not that most drac mechs are really worth looking at, but who knows..
She dropped a enote into the box, along with a copy of her "brag sheet" and decided to head down to the service bays to see if there was any chance of a quick job to pick up a few "bills" to at least keep her from dipping into savings, and she could pick up some "restock" kits because if everything she had heard was true she wanted to make sure her toolkits were stocked fully if she got this job.

[Warclaw]

Mess Hall
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
08-01-3033 - 16:35Z

David took another sip of the so-called “coffee” he'd chosen to go with his meal. 

“Yep, just like I remember it.” He thought to himself. “Cheap coffee, made badly on old equipment...standard issue for a Union.”

He snorted as another thought came to him.  “I imagine it comes from the old, used, gym socks they use for a filter once they are too gummed up to use as air filters.  Only thing that'd explain the smell.  Eau de Union...nothing like it.”

“Oy, mechboy!  Why the cannon?  Expecting pirates?”  One of the deck crew was pointing at David's leg, where a large pistol rode, strapped into a custom fit leather holster.

Dacid chuckled.  “Nope.  Don't plan to be unpleasantly surprised either.”

The deck-ape shook his head.  “What the hell is that thing anyway?  Doesn't look like any pistol I've seen before.”

David shrugged and placed the firearm on the small table.  “Grayson and Holland .20 gauge over and under shot-pistol.  Smoothbore, will take any standard .20 gauge round, including flares and micro-grenades at need, but that last isn't recommended except in extreme emergency.”  His tone was dry, belieing the rather insane risk such a maneuver would be.  “Accurate out to about ten meters at the most, beyond that you'll want a different weapon.”

“You couldn't find anything bigger?”  The crewman sounded incredulous that anyone would willingly carry such a beast of a pistol.

Davis smiled.  “I find it has certain...advantages...for shipboard carry.  For one thing, I'm honestly not that good a shot with a pistol.  The right shot load negates that problem rather neatly.  And I also don't have problems with over-penetration.  Too many things on a ship break easily...I'd rather not wreck a major component if I don't intend to.  Plus, aboard ship, the limited range isn't so much of an issue.”

“Yeah, I get that.”  The crewman sounded amused. “But why even carry it?  I mean, we're on the pad deep in Davion territory.  It's not like Redjack Ryan is going to pop out of the bread locker and start waving a cutlass at you.”

David's face lost its smile.  When he spoke it was softly, and with no warmth at all.  “I thought like that once.  Being wrong cost me more than you'd ever wish to know.  We could be on New Avalon parked on the Prince's personal pad and I'd still take precautions.”  He smiled slightly, but there was no warmth at all in it.  “Actually, to be honest, were we parked there, I'd want my tools all the more.  Redjack is at least honest about his goals.  Pirate he is, and he'll not claim otherwise.  Successor Lords on the other hand....Safer it is, I'd feel in Ryan's hands, than at such a Court.”

[Grognard]

Rojas Family Residence
Spaceport
Mech bay offices
14:00
4 Jan 3033

Angelina Rojas brushed yet another invisible speck from her father's uniform coat and stepped back to survey her handiwork.
"Daddy, I do believe you look better in this uniform than any Tri-Vid hero I've ever seen.  Min riddare i skinande rustning!"

Stephan Rojas faced the full length mirror and studied his appearance.  His SPM uniform did look good. Although not a FWLM uniform, it drew heavily from the Class A uniforms of the FWLM regulars.  Medium fieldgray pants complete with silver and blood red piping terminated into highly polished calf length boots, above with a glistening white, high collared tunic.  Hung on the tunic were service ribbons for his time with the SCM.  Finally, centered on the diagonal royal purple FWL sash, lay his emblem of knighthood.  Stephan snorted to himself.  A knight without lands, hunted by a Duchess, and indifferently supported by an absent lord.  Still, it was rather nice to be seen as he truly was: Sir Stephan Rojas, Knight Emeritus by the order of Parlimentary League of Free Worlds.  Stephan shook his head at his wool-gathering.  Here I am, knight without station, dressed in my finery to impress some local.  He turned, knelt to his daughter, and presented his ceremonial dagger to her.  "My lady.  I ask your blessing upon my mission.  As you are the Lady of House Rojas, I request your kiss of blessing."  Stephan smiled to himself; he knew that Angelina just loved this type of thing.

Angelina smiled and curtseied to her father.  Then she took the dagger, placed a single kiss upon the blade and returned it to her father.  "Go knock 'em dead, Sir Knight!"

Stephan rendered a salute and left the residence; and headed to the bay and the rented groundcar.  In the bay, he found Thud and Jenny waiting by the car.  Ivor waved a greeting as he polished SIGRUN's laser lenses.
Both Jenny and Thud rendered salutes as Thud held the passenger door open.  Thud was also dressed in his SPM NCO's Class A uniform, but sans the rack of awards that Stephan knew Thud rated.

Stephan was a bit non-plussed. "What? Why? What are you doing?"

Thud smiled "You sir, are about to sign up this unit for a long term mission.  As the Senior NCO, I just couldn't let my Officer go wandering around without proper representation for the enlisted troops.  You need to make a good impression, and I'm here to make sure of it."

Stephan goggled.. "what happened to your accent?  And what enlisted...?"

Thud grinned as he shut the door behind Stephan and hopped into the driver's seat.
"Gut Sar Night... Ah don' ala-ways sound liek'm the back 40 o' my 'oouth.  Now we be off to geet a stiar rookeet ride of'n dis here rook."  With that pronouncement, Thud punched the accelerator, and the groundcar blitzed away from the Mechbay in a cloud of tire smoke.

In the back seat of the groundcar, Stephan removed his garrison cap and shook his head. 15 years of knowing somebody and they still surprise you.  Examining his time'puter, he saw that he still had 45 minutes until his appointment.  Well, with the way Thud was driving, we'd definitely be early.

[codesurge]

Office 31
2278 Miranda Davion Avenue
Port Miranda
05-01-33
13:55 local time

It was a nondescript, boring, tired-looking building in the middle of an old warehouse district. If Saori hadn’t known any better, she’d have avoided the entire neighborhood on account of its relatively dilapidated – and occasionally suspect – state. However, the automated response she’d received on her comms device had indicated that this was the place where her latest interview was going to take place, so she gritted her teeth and walked into the building’s lobby. A secretary greeted her with a smile and directed her to a row of basic metal chairs in a makeshift waiting area. Not the most pleasant of places but it never hurt to be early for a meeting anyway.

She didn’t have to wait long as the secretary hustled her up a rather steep flight of stairs and up to the second floor right on the stroke of the hour. The Spartan office spaces on the floor matched the exterior of the building, long hallways with wooden doors and narrow semi-reflective windows marking the location of each meeting room. As Saori walked down the corridor, she took the opportunity to use the mirrored window surfaces to check out her own reflection.

She had decided to go with a more conservative outfit that day, a plain black shirt and tan fatigues with a leather bomber jacket thrown over the top for good measure. Unlike some of the other mercs running around town, she hadn’t had a long enough tenure in the military to justify wearing her ex-unit’s uniform. It probably wouldn’t help to be wearing DCMS colors in Fed Suns space anyway.

Making sure that her hair was in place and that she was at the very least, passably presentable for an interview, Saori was finally led to Office 31, where the secretary knocked on the door, said a few words to someone inside before ushering her into the room.

Inside was a basic wooden table with two chairs on opposite sides of it, the one facing the door occupied by a tall man of average build dressed in jeans, a cotton shirt and riding boots. It wasn’t the typical military uniform that she was expecting, more like a rancher’s work clothes, but his close-cropped hair and tidy beard – both starting to show flecks of grey – hinted that there was much more to him than met the eye.

“Miss Blomqvist-Haruka?” prompted the man as she shook his hand. “Please have a seat.”

“Yes, but please call me Saori. My full name can be quite the mouthful for most people,” she chuckled in response as she gracefully slid into the chair. “Who do I have the pleasure of addressing today?”

“Johannes Rabagliati, but like you’ve experience, a simpler name occasionally works better, so most folks just call me Mutt,” smiled her interviewer. “I’ve had a look at your file and it’s quite the story. So tell me, why are you interested in my expedition?”

Saori had been expecting the question and didn’t hesitate to give her prospective employer the honest truth. “To be honest, given my background and lack of extensive combat experience in a ‘Mech, I’ve not had much luck joining full-blown merc units in a combat role. However, I do believe that I’m a decent enough pilot to contribute to the team and an exploration mission like this would give me valuable experience.”

“Hmm,” mused her interviewer as he scribbled down something in his document pack. “Says here in your file that you’re a DC resident. Can you speak any Japanese?”
“Yes, my father was a Combine native and we were brought up in a trilingual household; I can speak English and Japanese fluently and I can hold a decent conversation in Swedish, if that’s of any help.”

“Interesting. Given that you’re doing mercenary work right now, I would assume that your father doesn’t exactly approve of your current line of work?”

It took an effort for Saori to keep a flash of irritation off her face, but she ultimately succeeded in preventing the painful memories from bubbling to the surface. “I would prefer to call my work to date ‘contract-based’ rather than ‘mercenary’, but with all due respect, I would rather not talk about my family.”

“Fair enough, my apologies for bringing that up,” said her interviewer as he flipped to another page of his notes. “You also have one of those new Wolfhound ‘Mechs which I’ve only seen in Steiner holovids. How did you end up behind the joysticks of one?”

“Well, it was a gift from my grandmother who worked for TharHes prior to her retirement. It’s one of the early-run prototypes so it’s not as polished as the production ones, but it’s still a good ride.”

“Interesting,” repeated Mutt as he rubbed his chin in thought. “What else do you think you can bring to the team?”

“Given that this mission will likely be in Draconis space, I know enough of the local language and culture to be able to handle any potentially sensitive cultural issues or negotiations. Additionally, I do have an interest in tactics and topped my Academy cohort in the Advanced Military Strategy class, so I’m willing to help out there if you want to hear my thoughts on your mission plan.

“Good, good,” said the man as he jotted down more notes. “That’s pretty much all I have to ask you. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Yes, I have a couple of questions if you could spare a minute.” On seeing Mutt’s nod, Saori continued. “Your ad was a little vague and light on the description. Are we expecting to see much in the way of combat when we reach there?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t share too much information at this point in time, but suffice to say that this will hopefully be a pure property recovery mission with a potentially large profit for each member of the team. Of course, I cannot guarantee anything given the unpredictable nature of the mission, but I can share more if you decide to join the team.”

That sounded a whole lot like a property raid mission to Saori, if she was reading between the lines well enough. From what she’d heard, such missions more often than not ended up with some form of combat.

“Fair enough, but what happens to our equipment if we engage in any skirmishes? Are repairs covered as well?”

“Basic combat repairs are,” said her prospective employer. “But any total loss of a ‘Mech will not be compensated for. More details are in the contract that I will send over to you.”

“Sounds good to me. It will be a good opportunity for me to return back to Draconis space as I have not been back for over a year now. You mentioned a contract so I take it that I’m onboard?”

“Sharp gal,” chuckled Mutt. “The position’s yours if you want it. Just let me know by end of today so that I can make final travel arrangements for everyone’s equipment.”

It wasn’t a difficult call at all for Saori and she proffered her hand along with a simple “I’m in”. Mutt returned a firm handshake and grinned.

“Welcome onboard Saori. We’re planning to leave on the 8th so please have all your personal matters attended to before then. I will let our Dropship captain know to prepare to receive your ‘Mech and you’ll get a copy of the contract from me later this afternoon. Please sign it and return it to me as soon as you can.”

Saori nodded in acknowledgement as she stood up and prepared to leave the room.

“Thank you Mutt. I look forward to working with you in the months ahead.”

“As do I, Saori. Have a great day and let me know if you have any other questions.”

She thanked the secretary on the way out and flagged down a taxi to head to one of her favorite downtown watering holes. Sure, it was a little early in the afternoon to start drinking, but what was the harm in celebrating a new job with some strangers?

[BirdofPrey]

Joey's Salvageall
City outskirts
Fallon II
02-01-3033

"Try it again," came the yell of the tech.
Meat squeezed the trigger and watched the laser on the left arm cut into the scrap plate way off the mark he was aiming at.
he yelled back, "No that's not it."
"Well are you sure you're aiming it right?"
"You saw where the autocannon hit, and that arm hasn't moved.  I'm not that stupid."
Meat's Rifleman was still mostly attached to its makeshift gantry and most of the systems were offline for the firing test.  Meat checked the screens again, and confirmed that they read that the mech was locked, though that he didn't always trust the computer.  Most of the DI computer was off of the warhammer that also donated its legs to Meat's mech, and it was most definitely a piece of scrap.

"Don't you have any more large lasers that don't suck?" he asked.
"That Archer only had the two." There was silence for a couple minutes then meat heard, "Fire it again at full power, I want to see if there's a thermal element to the misalignment."
"A what?"
"Just do it"
Meat pulled the trigger again
"ACH, SON OF A BITCH," Meat heard the scream below.
"Are you ok?" meat yelled back, unstrapping himself from the command couch.
The DI announced, "Critical hit, left arm, weapon destroyed"  Meat took a quick glance at the damage control computer and saw that the laser was offline along with the arm actuator, and the structure was lit up red.

Meat got to the level where Donna had been working on his mech from.  She was rubbing her eyes, but otherwise looked fine.
"Crap, that arm's going to have to come off again"
"Are you alright," Meat asked
"I'm fine, That was just bright is all."
"What the hell happened"
"I think the emitter overloaded.  I'll ask dad if he can scrounge up another laser."
"For my mech? Good luck with that."
"Oh come on, he doesn't hate you that much"
"Uh huh." 
Meat still remembered the birds and the bees speech her old man had given him, 'after the bee stings the bird, the bee dies.'  The relationship had ended a year earlier for other reasons, but meat suspected Joey still kept an eye on them.
"I'm gonna go take a nap.  My head feels like it just exploded."
"Have fun."  She was already at work pulling of armor plates to hook the crane up to the arm.  Meat admired the view for a couple more seconds before climbing off the gantry and leaving.  He always did like his women with a little actuator grease on them.

Joey, the owner of the salvage yard, and Donna's father, was arriving just as meat was trying to leave.
"Hey, dead meat," Meat rolled his eyes at the dig about his call-sign, "I saw a posting that might interest you."
Meat took the posting and read it
WANTED: Skilled warriors, technicians and expedition crew for investigative expedition to DC space. No combat expected but maybe required. Must have own tools of the trade. Room, Board and Transportation provided to destination. Payment by shares of any valuables recovered. For details contact Johannes @ Box 270.
"Hmm, Interesting"

[zeitgeist]

Office 31
2278 Miranda Davion Avenue
Port Miranda
03-01-3033 - 15:00Z

"Khalil? Mister Rabagliati will see you."

Kal thanked the secretary and made a inventory of his appearance. Shirt and pants that had been clean before being thrown in the back of the cockpit on the way off the farm, check. AFFSMW-52 field jacket in desert tan, check. Work boots that had seen better days, check. Hair that looked like it had spent three hours under a neuohelmet in a mech traveling at high speeds over difficult terrain, check. Spurs, check.

"Mr. Sultzaberger?  Johannes Rabagliati, call me Mutt."

Kal shook the offered hand before sitting. "Pleased to meet you, Mutt, call me Kal."

"Very well, then, Kal, can I offer you a drink before we start?"

"No, thanks."

"Your jacket says you served as a mechwarrior in the 42nd, care to elaborate on that?"

Kal straightened in his chair, "I was in Third Lance, Second Company, my Griffin with a Trenchbucket and a pair of Dervishes. Captain Parks treated 2nd Co as light cavalry, made me learn Garry Owen when she found out I could play a fife," he let out a snort of amusement before continuing, "First Lance's fast lights would flush out the enemy and we'd provide fire support while Second Lance closed in for the kill. It worked well in practice."

Mutt raised an eyebrow, "And in reality?"

"In reality, sir, I don't know," Kal coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment, "We spent the entirety of my tour on Fallon. I thought we'd see some action when the Fourth broke out in '28, but ended up staying on-planet to guard against Snake raids. The war ended in '30 and my term was up shortly afterwards. Mom and dad had been complaining about needing more help on the farm, so I mustered out and went back to work."

Mutt made a few notes on the file sitting in front of him, "Six years of service and not a single shot fired in anger, we should all be so lucky. Now, tell me about your mech, a Griffin, you said?"

Kal visibly relaxed, obviously relieved that his lack of experience didn't automatically disqualify him. "Camerone's a Griffin, yes, sir. Been in the family since before the fall of the Star League. The story goes she was on Terra for the liberation, although I'm not sure it's true." Or what side she was fighting for if it is, he thought. The IFF would, under certain conditions, alternate between declaring itself as a member of the RWRM and the SLDF, often in rapid succession. "She may have seen better days, but she's tougher than a half Pound steak."

Mutt smiled at the young man's enthusiasm. "Let me tell you about the job. You'll be doing property recovery. Payment will consist of a share of the recovered property, which I'd estimate in the six to seven figure range, along with room, board and basic maintenance for your mech while in transport. Total time should be seven months at the maximum, and you'll be provided with transport to either Engadine or Unzmarkt afterwards. I can give you specifics only once we're off planet and safely on our way. Any questions?"

Kal nodded, making a mental note to find out where Engadine and Unzmarkt where. "Yeah, if payment's a share of the take, I'm guessing we're SOL if your property isn't still there when we come for it, right?"

"That is correct, aside from food, a bunk and transport to the other side of the Inner Sphere. This is very much an all of nothing proposistion for everyone involved."

Kal grinned, "Sounds interesting, I'm in."

Mutt shook the young man's hand. "Glad to have you aboard, Mr. Sultzaberger. I have a few checks to run, but feel free to report to the Stainless Chrome, she's a Union dropship on the landing pad here. I'll com Captain Steele and let her know to expect you."

[Malich]

Cargo Bay 1
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
08-01-3033 - 13:43Z

Mutt stepped out of the Infantry container and into the bedlam that was the number 1 cargo hold. The cargo hauler was parked up loaded with a shipping container, six similar containers filled one part of the bay, a trio of 4x4 vehicles were crammed in where there was space, a pair of BattleMechs were jammed into corners and secured with heavy duty chain and straps to multiple tie down points on the floor and walls. He knew bay three was pretty much the same as this one and that bay two, while only holding four BattleMechs, was at capacity because of the 'Mech gantries and the need to let those four units out rapidly in the event that they were needed on landing.

Mutt walked over to the tall, stocky black man who was watching a container move across the bay, suspended from the overhead crane. As he watched his hands deftly manipulated the rmore control joysticks that controlled it.

"PO Lord."

"Mr Rabagliati. I hope you're not going to ask me to move something? I've already told some of your young gentlemen and ladies that we're just about balanced as it is and if we move anything about too much now it might delay the launch."

Petty Officer Martyn Lord was maybe three years older than Mutt but was a lifelong spacer, a trainer of new crewmen and a throwback to the wet navies of old in his mannerisms, treatment of people and, from time to time, his ability to curse like a sailor.

"PO Lord, far be it from me to mess with your bay or the Captain's departure paperowrk."

Lord turned, looked him up and down and then turned back to the moving container. "Very wise Mr Rabagliati. So, what did you want?"

"Just to check on the status of the loading."

"All is going as well as it is possible. Things will go quicker without my elbows being jostled by people."

Mutt laughed and shook his head. "Message received. If any of my people are causing problems please tell them to come to me and I'll set them straight."

"Mr Rabagliati, if they cause me problems I will set them straight. If that does not work I shall let the captain set them straight. If there is anything left after we are done with them I shall send that to you."

Mutt walked away knowing that they would be no problems. The crew of the Stainless Chrome were more than willing to listen to reasonable requests but they were their own unit. hired to move a contract from one place to another and lords and masters of their ship regardless of what some picky passenger might think they are entitled to. He strode over to the communication panel on the wall by the massive access ramp and pressed the button that connected him to the Bridge.

"Bridge. Lieutenant Hicks speaking."

"Mr Hicks. This is Rabagliati, Is the captain available?"

"The captain is on her off shift so she can handle the launch. Can I help?"

Hick's was the first officer of the Stainless Chrome, a part owner of the ship, or the debt to the ship as he liked to call it, and a helpful soul. "Ah, of course. I'm just checking to make sure there is nothing else you need to file the departure paperwork?"

"Ah, no I think we have everything in place. We're just waiting on the stragglers and that's about it."

"Excellent. Then I shall stop bugging you and let you do... whatever it is you do up there?"

"If I told you that Mr Rabagliati, anyone could do it."

[BirdofPrey]

Office 31
2278 Miranda Davion Avenue
Port Miranda
04-01-3033 - 14:00Z

The Secretary ushered Meat into an office with a simple desk and two chairs.

The other man in the room spoke up, "Ah, Mr. Black; my name is  Johannes Rabagliati, but you may call me Mutt.  Most folks seem to find that easier."

Meat shook Mutt's hand and replied, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Have a seat Mr. Black, would you like anything to drink?"

"No thanks," Meat said, sitting down.  Mutt motioned to the secretary that he didn't want anything either, so she left.

"I understand you used to work for the militia, but your work in the past few years is a bit sporadic"

"Yeah, I joined the militia when I was nineteen, or was it twenty?  Anyways, I started driving a spare locust, but eventually worked my way up to driving an old marauder.  I retired 'bout three years ago to work private security to pay for my mech.  Mostly guarding salvage operations and the like"

"What sort of mech do you own?"

It's built to the specs of a Rifleman 3N"

Mutt nodded knowingly, remembering his own mech, but the wording of that statement was a bit odd "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"It's something of a franken mech, it's equipped the same way as your standard Rifleman, and can shoot down aircraft with the arm weapons at least, but the parts are scrounged up from god knows where.  I try not to ask the tech what she got everything from.

"I see; as long as the mech is actually yours and functions properly, there shouldn't be any problems.  I don't have a mech of my own at the moment, but hopefully this expedition will fix that."

"Speaking of which, just what, exactly, is the mission?"

"It's a recovery mission to Combine space.  We're going to be picking up some lost property.  I am not expecting any combat, but it never hurts to plan ahead which is why I am hiring some mechs for security.  I am sure you understand."

Meat nodded.  Sounded like business as usual even if it wasn't mentioned what exactly was being recovered.  Hush hush usually equated to hot property, but Meat knew enough to keep his mouth shut.  If somone blabbed, they weren't likely to get anything but gunfire.

Mutt continued, "Room and board is provided for the trip as well as time spent on planet, and I can provide transportation to Engadine or Unzmarkt after that.  Pay is based off the value of what we recover, with each person getting a share."

"Sounds like business as usual, but if it gets me off the planet, then that's fine with me.  When do you leave?

"I am aiming for the 8th.  I have to do some more interviews and background checks first then get everything packed.  I'll contact you a few days ahead of time if everything checks out, but feel free to start moving your gear to the spaceport."

[Latro]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
7 January 3033 - NOONish

Gunner Reslo sat on the edge of the open secondary cargo bay door enjoying what he considered the ever diminishing number of cigarettes he had available to him before they lifted. Soon enough he would be forced to ‘quit’ until they were dirtside on a planet whose atmosphere could support an open flame (lighting up in a methane rich atmos was poor manners to say the least). Smoking in a dropper was frowned on as oxygen was always a little richer, and you could never be sure if/when an O₂ tank might be leaky, so... eight more in this pack and he would be done for the foreseeable future.

His booted feet swung idly over the edge of the cargo deck into space. From this vantage point the hull of the ovoid drop ship curved in towards the base of the ship, a good twenty-five meters to the very hard ferrocrete surface below. Up here he could see people arriving to join the newly minted unit. Gunner considered the make up of what he could see lined up to gain entry to the dropship. Mechs of various models - including a frelling Diglord (its presence presented a host of new questions on the nature of their ‘mission’, which he shelved for the time being). Wheeled vehicles and several box containers that on second look seemed to be living quarters. And the people. By the end of this trip he would be almost intimately familiar with all of them, whether he wanted to be or not.

Bloody brilliant those boxed quarters. He felt a quick pang of jealousy that he squashed. He had been the first to arrive at the Stainless Chrome (which the old Union workhorse was definitely NOT); the first to park his mech in one of the limited gantries, and the first to claim a bunk. His knowledge of this variety of dropper had allowed him to secure the best non-crewer cubby-hole, such as it was. He had felt no pangs of guilt for doing so - first come first serve, and it wasn’t his fault he was intimate with the innards of Union after all. The envy of the idea of the privacy those box containers would afford abated. The ship’s Quartermaster/ Loadmaster might drop a cow when he saw them and disallow their stowage anyway. Those folks always tended to be a bit fussy when it came to that sort of thing.

He sighed and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the arid air of Fallon II. 

“Hey! You shouldn’t be sitting there, its dangerous”

Gunner looked up at the approach of two female crewers. He gave them his best sardonic smile, the one that would either immediately charm them or piss them off.

“What’s the matter, ladies? Afraid I’ll fall and you’ll have to clean up after me?”

“Nah. We’ll just hose your guts off with some hydrogen peroxide into the launch pit.” said the one with dirty blond hair, a smile tugging at her lips.

They produced cigarettes that they lit as they too sat down at the edge of open space. Reslo raised his eyebrows and they both shrugged fluidly.

“We’re on break and this is where we usually sit.” said the darker skinned of the two. “Are you that mechjock who showed up a few days ago?”

“That’s me. Been trying to stay out of the way the last couple of days, and especially now that Mobb is starting to arrive.” he looked at the two girls. The dirty blond had to be late twenties. She had an open face with a trace of freckles and a quick smile. The other woman looked closer to his age, black hair, with quick brown eyes, and a slight ‘hardened-by-life’ dourness that set her face into a near scowl.

“Since we’re going to all know each other by the end of the trip... “ he reached his right hand out to the younger girl “My name is Gunner Reslo.”

She smiled and took his hand “Josey Slazak. I work in the electronics shop.”

The other woman took his hand and shook it firmly. “Tatiana Aguila. Security. What sort of name is Gunner?”

“Ah well. I suppose it was meant to be GunnAr with an ‘A’, but I always pronounced and spelled it with an ‘E’.”

Tatiana looked thoughtful for a second before her face closed again.  “What do you think of this mission, mechjock?”

He lit another cigarette (seven to go)  and paused as he considered the question. Finally: “I don’t know. So far it has the markings of a fool’s errand, but we’re banking on it paying off. At the very least it gets me off Fallon. This place is sort of the ass-end of nowhere, isn’t it?”

Josey giggled at this comment while Tatiana merely grunted as she surveyed the scenery beyond the starport.

“What about you ladies. What’re the feelings of the crew on this haul?”

“Just another haul for us.” Josey answered with a shrug.

“Eight to one against.” said Tatiana flatly “Most of us think this trip’ll be a bust, but since the livelihood of the Chrome is now wrapped up in this scheme, it better payout.” She said the last accusingly, as if it was now Gunner’s personal responsibility to make sure it happened.

He twisted his lips in a wry smile. “I’m hoping it will too ladies. Good or bad we’re all of us in it now.”

They stopped talking now, to enjoy the last of their smoking in relative peace while the scene below was of determined activity, no doubt everyone down there was having similar thoughts...

[SethsMatches]

2278 Miranda Davion Avenue
Port Miranda
05 Jan 3033 - 16:00Z

Initially torn about what to wear to the interview Kiva had decided on a compromise between form and function. Her clothes would be business while her appearance would not, which would help her gauge the character of this prospective employer, and vice versa.

A short while later she was ready with a form fitting top, tech work pants with a Lyran Regulars patch, her workboots and hair and makeup to die for, but not overboard.

Mutt had come to the last interview of a long day. Hopefully it wouldn’t be with some airhead trying to use her looks to get a free ride.

Not only had her AFFC credentials matched up but Mutt had actually got a confirmation on her qualification from Coventry Metalworks – turned out there’s actually a CM shipping agent, and therefore a copy of their online public reference records, assigned to Fallon II.

“Lyrans have business connections everywhere.” he said to himself.

Mutt did raise a tired eyebrow as Kiva entered the room though. Clothes that had clearly seen work draped over a woman who knew how to make her beauty look even better… a lot of effort went into that odd combination… (Can’t think of why but I’ll take it as a good sign I guess) He thought.

“Hello Miss Marsden, please take a seat, my name is Johannes Rabagliati but most people call me Mutt.”

“Hello Mr Mutt. Please call me Kiva.” She said as she sat down and placed her mug of tea on the table.

“Both your AFFC and Coventry Metalworks credentials have checked out and the rest of your experience looks good. I see a local farmer has included a glowing testimonial.”

Kiva blushed at the mention of the farmer. “He is rather generous in his praise. I just fixed an ankle actuator.”

“The main purpose of this interview is to meet you and allow each of us to ask questions. My first question is why you’re all the way out here?”

“I’m out exploring the sphere for a while, I’ve hardly been outside Lyran space, and am looking for a way to get to Combine space. Your expedition offers the chance to work my way there and maybe even have an adventure en route.”

“Fair enough, your history shows that you know your way around a ‘mech. How are you with other machinery? We have a few vehicles on this trip and extra maintenance hands would be appreciated.”

“I can take most vehicle systems apart and put them back together again, eventually, but don’t ask me for any custom work or performance enhancements. I know my way around a vehicle but they’re not my strong suit. Especially not gearboxes, give me a sub-core hip myomer heatsink feed line recalibration any day.”

“And aircraft?”

“Even less of my strong suit I’m afraid. Once again I can take them apart and put them back together but it’ll take a properly experienced eye to fix real trouble. I’m always eager to learn though, air and ground.”

“I see you left the AFFC before the official end of your last tour?”
Kiva had been expecting this question but not so suddenly. It showed a decisive streak that hinted at a much stronger character than what his casual civilian clothes suggested. This expedition looked to be in good hands.

“Yes, the CO and I had a fundamental difference of opinion on the nature of our relationship. He refused to take no for an answer and after tasering him failed to convince him my only option was to leave the AFFC.” She said in business like tone along with a brief look of quickly covered regret.

“I must admit I do enjoy playing with the boys, as long as they understand that there’s also a time for work. I try to extend them the same courtesy.”

(That sounded rather honest) Mutt thought to himself. (Probably tried her luck too far and got burned; also shows
she’s no fool.)

“I’ve hired several mech jocks and their rides today and your military record alone qualifies you to maintain their machines. Welcome to the team, if you still want to join us? Do you have any questions?”

“Who will I be reporting to for maintenance and work assignments? Am I part of the dropship’s tech complement or am I more… independent?”

“You and any other hired techs will report to me while the dropship’s techs will report to Lt Tremaine, the senior dropship tech. I’ll review and prioritise all vehicle and mech maintenance requests and PO Lord will be in charge of day to day assignments so you’ll get your duties from him.”

“Understood. What ‘mechs do we have on this expedition so far? Actually never mind I’ll wait for the surprise. Thank you for taking me on. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Thank you to you too. I think there’s at least one mech you’ll find interesting. I’ll tell the Captain of the Stainless Chrome to expect you.” Mutt said with a cheerful smile as he shook her hand.

[Dave Talley]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
1000 7-1-3033

After walking the Beast over and introducing himself to the cargomaster,  Franz kneeled the mech is a cargo bay, near the ramp so he could get in and out easier. He then helped chain the beast in place so it wouldn't shift in transit and cause trouble.  Afterwards he found the ships cook and asked if they had room in the refrigerated compartment for a pallet of good beer, all he got was a blank stare and a nod when told that most would be for shipboard rations with the captains approval of course.

He went and found the Deck Officer and asked which cabin/bunk he was sharing, and also asked where the weapons locker was so he could store his rifle and spare pistols. The Deck Officer also informed Franz that this was a dry ship, and he had best lock down the beer.  Depressed, he returned to the cold locker with a pallet jack and took the beer to the cargomaster and asked that it be locked up, only accessible by the Captain or Mutt.

to be modified as names are given to other NPCs

[Ian Sharpe]

Office 31
2278 Miranda Davion Avenue
Port Miranda, Fallon II
Federated Suns

5-1-3033

"Hart?  John Hart?"

Hart stood, unsurprised at the height difference between himself and the giant.  While not a short man, relative to the general populace, he felt he was short among mech jocks, who tended to be physical specimens.  Nor did it help that in a world where worth was all too often measured by tonnage, he was a light mech pilot.  And so he had adopted the stereotypical light jock's swaggering attitude and belligerence.

"Johannes Sergio Rabagliati, most folks just call me Mutt."  To Hart, it sounded like a mantra.  He felt his hand engulfed by the bigger man's hand(paw?), gave a firm handshake in return.  To his relief, Mutt didn't try to crush his fingers, something he could have done all too easily.

"John Hart.  Or Torch, if you like."  The shorter man was a sight.  From the absurdly flamboyant hussar jacket(property of his previous employer), to the snakeskin wrapped katana scabbard and hilt, to the twin pistols.  But the jacket was dirty, the clothes wrinkled, his boots dusty.  Only the weapons appeared well-cared for.

"Take a seat."

Hart slouched into the small chair across from the big man.  He flipped through the papers hart had faxed over.  His AFFS service record, discharge.  Personal references.

"So who did you piss off to end up on Fallon II without being posted to the 42nd?"

it wasn't the question Hart had been expecting.  He had thought it would start with the string of disciplinary reports on him.  Minor stuff, but a lot of them.  "Avalon Hussars ain't interested in jocks from the Conroe Battalion.  Chisholm's Raiders, they ain't so picky about that.  Saw action against the Snakes with them in the Fourth.  Then peacetime happened.  Transferred to the Bremond DMM.  They thought I might feel more at home in the DMM.  My own fault, really.  You've seen the files?  All I ever saw of the AFFS was the 1st Conroe, and then fighting the Snakes.  Peacetime AFFS ain't the same, y'know?  Couldn't hack it there, either.  So I took my discharge and ended up signing on with His Lordship to be one of his toy soldiers.  Didn't much like the idea of dropping the hammer on his fief.  Not in a Firestarter, against my own people."

"He that unpopular?"

"Not always.  But my FS9 doesn't have too many other uses.  Got loaned out to clear land, or make firebreaks int he dry season a lot.  But showing up for riots?  Just glad i never had to pull the trigger."

"I...see."

"So you mind I ask you a couple questions?"

"Shoot."

"You really planning on going halfway across space to get to the bloody Combine?  On a recovery mission?"  Hart's tone was plainly skeptical.

"That's what the ad said."

"So you expecting any trouble?"

"Trouble?  Not really."

"You're a real cautious man then.  I asked around the space port.  Word is you hired on a battalion."

"There's not a battalion of mechs on Fallon II, Hart, that doesn't belong to the 42nd already.  You should know better than to listen to rumors."  Mutt's smile was genuine.

"Still, you're looking for jocks, you're expecting trouble."

"I just like being prepared, Mr. Hart."

"Fine, fine.  Keep your bloody secrets.  It don't matter that much to me," he said, in a voice that said that it did.

"Anything else?"

"About your little expedition?  You ain't saying, so why ask?"

"You don't want to know how much you'd be signing on for?"

Hart laughed loudly at that.  "Don't need to.  Man going all the sodding way into Snake space can't afford to screw the hired help over too badly.  Long way back to the Suns with some pissed off jocks, he does that."

Mutt laughed along, knowing what Hart said was all too true.  "Its a full share of whatever we recover, you own your own mech.  You do own your mech, right?"

"Took her off a Snake in '30 when I was with the Raiders.  Stock Firestarter.  One of my mediums runs hot, and the machine guns fire a tick after I let off the trigger.  Got a gimpy knee on her too, but Charlie's in good shape."

"That's a plus."

"Aye.  The Snake I took her off of is still alive, though.  Don't know if that might be a problem when we get there.  But, you ever been Dispossessed?  My mum was.  Its why I ended up in the 1st Conroe.  It was a better shot at earning a mech than chasing one as a gropo.  But I couldn't kill the Snake in cold blood, either.  Just kept the mech, didn't ransom her back."

"So you're checked out on lights, anything heavier?"

"I ran a Shadow Hawk a time or two, checked out in a Chameleon.  But its lights for Conroe jocks.  Can't spare the heavies on us."  Hart's voice was matter of fact, not bitter.  Light and medium mechs needed less maintenance, had more civilian applications, on average.  "Don't mind so much though, spent a lot f time in the cockpit.  Patrols and sweeps, taking on PBI strong points.  Had a Stinger in the 1st, a Valk in the Raiders."  It was also true that many light and medium pilots saw more combat, certainly more skirmishing, than heavy and assault drivers.

"So how soon can you be ready to leave?"

"Mutt, I've been ready to leave.  Just tell me where to go."

"Report to the Stainless Chrome.  Space is tight, so don't plan on bringing much."

"Don't have much to bring."  He stuck his hand out, more happily this time, giving a stronger shake from excitement.  "Won't let you down, Mutt."

"See that you don't."

[Grognard]

Office 31
2278 Miranda Davion Avenue
Port Miranda
4 January 3033 - 1600 Zulu

"Sir Rojas? Mister Rabagliati will see you."
The secretary smiled as she gestured the way to the upstairs office.
Stephan followed her, with Thud a few steps behind him.  Stephan was highly conscious the jingle of the stainless steel spurs that newly adorned his boots.  He wasn't a huge fan of these new baubles, but Thud had insisted before they decamped the groundcar.
"Sir Stephan, these Feddies may not recognize your seal of knighthood, but they for dang sure know what these spurs mean.  Mechwarriors with kills, wear spurs.  You have destroyed 4 Mechs and a partial on a fifth.  You've earned the right to them, so wear the damn spurs."

Stephan entered the spartan office. Thud stopped at the doorway, performed an about face, and settled into a parade rest position.  The look on Mister Rabagliati's face upon the sight of Stephan's uniform was evidence enough to prove Angelina and Thud both right.  He examined this Mister Rabagliati carefully.  A lean, honest face. Short trimmed hair and beard in a workingman's way, not overly military.  Flecks of gray.  Dressed like a professional rancher.  He shook hands with Mr. Rabagliati.  Solid, no-nonsense grip.  Hands were hard, but not overly calloused.  The men held the grip for a moment, each measuring the other.

Rabagliati spoke. "Ah, I was only expecting one person. Which of you is Mr Rojas?" Mutt noticed the spurs and directed his question to Stephan."Or would you prefer Sir Rojas? Thank you for coming today.  Please have a seat.  Your Sargeant can join us if he likes."

"Thank you, Sir.  Please call me Stephan.  This is my very best friend, personal Master 'Mech-Tech and godfather to my children; Thud Waller."  Stephan presented a portfolio containing his, Thud's and Jenny's brag sheets.

"I see.  Well, please call me Mutt. Johannes Rabagliati is quite the mouthful, and I've never taken to the nickname of 'J.R.'  So. What brings you to my doorstep, looking at my little expedition?  I know you aren't here as representatives of the League."

Stephan gave a tight smile. "No sir. We are not here as representatives of the League.  The Marik does not worry himself with the wanderings of a landless knight.  I have the need to both move on from Fallon II, and further the funding of my children's future education.  Thud and Jenny are both lifelong friends, retainers, and godparents to my two children; so we move as a whole kit."

Mutt waggled his eyebrows and contemplated the personnel sheets before him. "5 people,  only two of whom have the documented requirements that I desire.  All five of which seem to bring a bit of drama with them.  What other assets do you bring to the table, Sir Knight?"

Stephan nodded.  He had expected this.. "Mutt, I am a decorated MechJock with 4 Mech kills on my own.  I also bring a better than factory condition VALKYRIE Scout Mech.  I bring socio-political negotiation skills and over 20 years of experience in running a multi-billion credit business.  My friend Thud here brings a Master Technician rating with 15 years experience.  I've seen him do more with baling wire and duct tape than some techs can do with a full machine shop.  Additionally, he is rated a Basic level Mechpilot, too.  His wife, Jenny, is rated as an Assistant Technician and has CPA and secretarial skills besides the experience of running my entire household for the past five years.  She also holds a Basic Level Mechpilot rating.  My son is taking an apprenticeship from Thud and Jenny in Mech maintenance in addition to preperatory studies for NAIS.  He is also undergoing Basic Mech piloting training.  My daughter, aged 8, already speaks 5 languages fluently, is working on a 6th, and could charm the paint off a dropship.  Finally.."  Stephan paused, but caught Thud's grin from the corner of his eye. "Finally, if there is need, I have possession of a Basic Factory Defaulting program for 19 models of BattleMechs.  My family's business was 'Mech Operating Systems software and hardware, you see.  With my program, anyone properly trained can use the 'Mechs own damage sensing software to accurately and quickly diagnose many types of systems faults.  Fire control. Myomer. Actuators. Weapons.... even Primary Pilot Security."

Mutt's left eyebrow crooked steeply at the last pronouncement. "Sir Stephan.  What about the bar stories I've heard?  'Rojas the Red' and 'Duchess Deceiver'?  I have no interest in spiriting wanted criminals away from the proper authorities."

Stephan grinned broadly. "There are no warrants for any of us.  As for 'Duchess Deceiver', she tends to hold a grudge for young people in love who elope without her approval.  But at this moment, from what I hear, she is busy picking a fight with the Capellans without The Marik's approval.  She may soon find herself on The Marik's 'Most Wanted' list.  The Red Rojas story comes from an encounter with pirate raiders.  We, the militia, had quickly reacted to a raid.  Quick enough to smash their lead 'Mech elements. In the process of pursuing those Mechs, I ran into an ambush staged by a company of pirate infantry.  They managed to immobilize my left knee actuator and crack the gyro housing.  I ended up having to repeatedly roll my Mech to rid myself of their anti-mech swarm attack."

Stephan, Thud and Mutt all grimaced at the mental picture.

"My counter attack killed all but maybe  2 squads of infantry.  They beat feet and quickly spread the story of my VALKYRIE being bathed in the blood of their fellows.  But I regret nothing I've ever done in combat or in the defense of family and home."  Stephan looked Mutt in the eyes. "Do you have further questions about my past?"

Mutt shook his head. "No. None that wouldn't be overly prying.  You've answered my questions.  Do you have any for me, Sir?"

Stephan nodded. "Your ad was a bit vague.  Are you expecting combat?  If so, with whom?  What about equipment repairs?  Maintenance?  Mech replacement?"

Mutt steepled his fingers and produced a contract form on which he highlighted his answers. "I can’t share too much information at this point in time, but I will say that this is purely a property recovery mission with a potentially large profit for each member of the team.  No guarantee of anything given the unpredictable nature of the mission, but I can share more if you decide to join the team.  I am not looking for combat, but it never hurt to be prepared.  Basic combat repairs are coverd, as well as basic hourly maintenance.  In the event of combat, total loss of a ‘Mech will not be compensated for. More details are in this contract.  The position is yours ... all of yours if you accept."

Stephan stared at the document for a moment, noting the MRBC seal with its laser holographic emblem.  He turned to Thud, who looked him in the eyes and nodded his assent.  "Mister Rabagliati, we accept."  Stephan produced an archaic looking pen and signed the document.  He then passed it to Thud, who signed for himself and Jenny.  Completed, Stephan pushed the document back to Mutt.

Mutt smiled warmly. “Welcome onboard, Gentlemen. We’re planning to leave on the 8th so please have all your personal matters attended to before then. I will let our Dropship captain know to prepare to receive your ‘Mech, equipment and families."

Stephan came to attention and started to salute, but instead extended his hand to shake with Mutt.  "Thank you Mutt.  I, well, WE look forward to working with you in the coming months."

Mutt shook his hand again.
“As do I, Sir Knight. Have a great day and let me know if you have any other questions or issues with getting your effects loaded.  I have retained the services of the UNION-class dropship STAINLESS CHROME.  She is parked out on the Western-most pad of the Port Matilda field.  If you have no other questions, I'll see you next on the dropship.”

Stephan and Thud took their leave and returned to the groundcar.  This time, Stephan hopped into the front passenger seat next to his friend. "I tell you what, Thud.  I do hope I haven't screwed us all up by taking us on this massive gamble of an expedition."

Thud grinned as he shifted the car into gear and punched the throttle.
"Sar, life ain't wort' da liven' ifn' y' nae take da tiem to LIVE it!"

As the groundcar squealed away from the curb, Stephan smiled broadly.  "Well then, let's go on over to the STAINLESS CHROME to introduce ourselves and maybe get some planning done on how best to get everyone situated and loaded up.  After that: I think I owe my best bud a drink!"

The office secretary shook her head as the groundcar roared away in a cloud of tire smoke.  Leaguers.... they were all nuts.

[SethsMatches]

Cargo Bay 1
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
06 Jan 3033 – 09:52Z

Finding the Stainless Chrome was not difficult, even if her name was a bit of a misnomer.

Stopping her 4x4 Bakkie a safe distance from the organised chaos of the boarding ramp Kiva went to find someone who could point her to a bunk.

“Hello, I’m looking for Petty Officer Lord?”

Kiva gave him 3 seconds to try and regain his composure then said: “My face is up here.” The junior tech flushed scarlet and hurriedly pointed to the man in charge of loading.

“Hello, my name is Kiva Marsden. I’ve signed up with Mutt and am looking for PO Lord?”

“The Captain said to expect a Kiva. I suggest you grab a bunk. They’re falling fast.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that. Where do I put my 4x4?”

“It’ll go where I put it once it’s done helping us load the last of the food.” PO Lord said matter-of-factly. “Technically since you’re freelance you report to Mutt and I can’t order you to help with loading but this little bit of nowhere ain’t exactly overflowing with loading vehicles.” He said in a way that clearly intoned there was only one answer.

“I was planning on visiting the Stainless Chrome’s sauna first but oh well: ‘No rest for the wicked’. I’ll be right back.” Kiva said with a smile.

“You’ll find a bunk above the cargo decks.” PO Lord said with a flat tone but humorous eyes.

(No nonsense PO with a sense of humour. Should make things run smoothly.) She thought to herself as she went to find a bunk in one of the ‘freelancer’ cabins.

[Malich]

Bay Two
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth

08-01-3033 - 19:00Z

The last bath configured purely for 'Mechs on the Stainless Chrome was usually a quiet, empty place. Not tonight. Tonight the bay was full. Every member of the unit and every member of the Dropship staff with the exception of a 2 man bridge watch, was packed into the space between the four 'Mech gantries and the massive combat machines stood in them. Mutt had set up a small podium made up of packing crates at one edge of the bay and he and Captain Steele were stood on it waiting to address the crowd.

"Is everyone here?" There was a quiet murmuring and no-one spoke up to state they knew anyone was missing. "OK, PO Lord, can you seal the bay?"

There was a grinding from the bay door as the massive steel structure slide down to close off the rapidly cooling Fallon II night. Mutt waited for the reverberations of its final seal to die down before he started talking again.

"Right. Good evening everyone. I've called this so we can go through the basic safety briefing for the ship and to cover a few last points before we launch. Captain Steele?"

Mutt stepped to one side and let the Captain step up.

"Ok, I'm going to keep this short as I'm sure most of you have heard this before. A Dropship is not the place to be doing stupid crap to make yourself feel better. I have a few rules on this ship that I expect to be followed by crew and passengers alike. "

She looked across the assembled faces to make sure everyone was paying attention.

"The first is that I don;t care what rank you have, have had in the past, or think you're entitled to. On this ship if a member of my crew tells you to do something, I expect it to be done, immediately, without question. I've already had some reports of personnel expecting preferential treatment for themselves, their gear or their Battlemechs. Not going to happen. You're a contract and a cargo. I personally don't care if you vow never to use us again. My sole mission is to get you safely from here to your destination. My crew know their jobs and if they think you're putting yourselves or this ship at risk they will ask you to stop."

Steele noticed some of the faces look around trying to figure out who she was talking about, she also saw a few people trying hard not to show they knew the answers. Molly gave almost the same talk to every unit she carried about. Every trip someone tried to do the same thing. they thought their 'Mech fighter, tank, container was the most important on the ship. What they didn't know was that anyone who pushed her crew too hard would find their precious box  accidentally damaged or placed in a way that just happened to mean it would be the last thing unloaded.

"Second, this is a dry ship. I am aware that someone chose to place a crate of beer in one of the fridges. This displaced a crate of supplies which I am personnaly not happy with and have asked Mr Rabagliati to ensure he does not allow to happen again. Changes to stored must go through either myself or Petty Officer Haddurson the ships Purser. That crate shall be placed in bay one outside Mr Rabagliati's container. There had better be none left on my ship before we launch and none of you had better be drunk on my ship."

This led to a stirring of smiles, nudges and winks from some people and at least one face showing a little distress.

"Third. This ship is a dangerous place. You, as passengers, are limited to the passenger decks, the cargo bays and the canteen. The only exceptions to this are the pilots who are permitted to the launch bays and Mr Rabagliati who may enter the bridge and crew levels for specific business. If we catch any of you in restricted areas we will put you off the ship. And if you're lucky we'll land on a planet first. Likewise, within those areas into which you are permitted, if we catch you fiddling with any part of this ship's systems or structure you're off the ship."

Most people had the good grace to just nod in agreement to this which pleased her. Most people accepted these restrictions and it was a stupid man or woman who thought it might be fun to go against it.

"Finally, in the event of an emergency there is little that we expect of you other than to keep out of our way and to know where to go when necessary. There's three alarms you should know. If you hear individual tones, half a second apart with a rising and falling tone. Like this one." She stopped as the alarm sounded through the bay. Play Sound "This is the general quarters alarm. If you hear this alarm you should move to your assigned station or to your quarters if you have no designated station. Once there you should seal your area to ensure its air tight."

"The second is the manoeuvre warning. This will sound before we change our manoeuvring status and will be accompanied by a notification of what will be happening. PO Lord?"

At the back, the Tall bay officer picked up a hand held microphone and pressed a button on the wall panel. Within seconds and alarm sounded through the ship and the voice of the First officer came through the sound system. "Play Sound "All hand, All hand. Prepare for zero gravity in thirty seconds. All hands prepare for zero gravity."

"The final is the jump alarm. This will start ten seconds before a jump to give you warning it's about to happen." Again the alarm sounded through the ship after a few second. Play sound "If you hear any of those please make sure you know what to do. Other than those there will be other alarms that are for ship's personnel only. You can ignore those ones unless told otherwise. If you have any questions feel free to ask a member of the crew. Mr Rabagliati."

Mutt let Captain Steele step down and then stepped back up to podium. "Ok Ladies and gentleman. It's been pointed out to me that some of you maybe inadequately equipped for our destination. Our destination will be in the depths of local winter when we arrive. We're not expecting significant snow cover we can't be too careful, there may be significant cover and the temperature range is listed as being between -12 and +3 degrees Celsius. If any of you lack cold weather gear I have ensure that the outfitters on the space port will remain open until 22:00 Zulu for you. Please ensure you've back on the ship no later than 22:45 Zulu or you shall be left behind. That's all, thank you for listening."

[Latro]

Wombat’s All-Nite Jiffy Surplus EmporiumPort Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth
8 January 3033  Twenty-Hundred-ish

Gunner frowned as he browsed through a moldering pile of ancient cold weather gear.

Gloves.

     Hats.

          Mittens.

       Ski goggles.

   Ear muffs.

Great rubberized boots of monstrous proportions.

    Long underwear.

All of these looked to be refugees of SW2. Positively decrepit...

And rock bottom dirt cheap at this twenty-four military surplus store a block off the main drag from the space port. No one on Fallon II ever had need of gear designed to keep them warm in an arctic environment. They were practically giving it away.

Gunner threw some heavy leatherized mittens with trigger fingers and their liners into his basket, as well as a pair of black leather gloves with wool inserts. A pile cap. A reversible camouflaged (white with vague green splotches and green with vague white splotches) parka and liner, A pair of similar field pants, and a pair of over-boots.

Gunner was mildly irritated that they needed to do this last minute shopping blitz, but better than not being warned at all.

After suffering the incredulous looks from the mil-surplus store's cashier he headed for one last establishment before his mad dash back to the dropper.

Boudica’s Wagon Wheel was perhaps the ultimate hole-in-the-wall dive drinking establishment, and Gunner relished every stolen moment at its bar. The barmaid was both pretty and sympathetic. A good many of her clientele were people seeking last minute libations before lift off. The Stainless Chrome was not the only dropship captained by a teetotaler.

As he left Boudica’s Gunner reflected that though it might be a dry ship in name, they very rarely were. Crewers had a way of finding hidden nooks and crannies in which to hide a wee dram for a quiet nip on the down low, and indeed these clandestine stashes became a de-facto force in the crypto-bartering system that perforce developed within a ship once if left a gravity well.

It was a good thing he had some private reserve stashed deep in his Ostroc’s cockpit...

[Grognard]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Fallon II

8 JAN 3033  20:15 Local

The Rojas/Waller family were gathered in the bunking spaces of the Stainless Chrome.  Stephan had spent the last few minutes reiterating the Captain's orders, expectations, and the alert system.  The group wasn't able to take an entire stateroom for itself, but at least they were all bunked within eyesight of the others.  Thud, Jenny and Angelina were in a triple bunk berth along one wall, while Ivor and Stephan shared a double rack of bunks on the other wall on the stateroom.  Everything seemed settled, but Stephan was worried about the announcement of the need for cold weather gear.  When he mentioned this to Thud, Jenny laughed.
"Why you goofy Knight!  D'ya think I'd forget something like that!  All that arctic survival gear I got on clearance on New Avalon... I got it stored all over the place!  Even got 2 full sets in the lower rear bay of SIGRUN."

Stephan gaped at her, then laughed. "Why do I ever worry?  You and your clearance sales.  Next you'll be telling me you got a case of auto-carbines stored in the back of the cockpit."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Nope.  only got 2 in back of the cockpit.  But I got a good deal on Snake-made Hold out Needlers..."
   

[Latro]

Bay One
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth
8 January 3033 - Twentytwo-Hundred-ish

“They have ski resorts on Fallon? Get the frell out.”

Tatiana shrugged as she sifted through the items Gunner had brought back from his impromptu shopping expedition. “Supposedly there’s an ice pack covering the poles, but that’s all I know. You’ve been here longer than I have. Where the hell did you get this stuff? Its ancient.”

“I know, right? Not top of the line, but the price was right. What are you looking for anyway?” Tatiana and the Chrome’s other Security Officer were stopping returning troops and dropship crew members and thoroughly inspecting the contents of the various bags and boxes that were being brought back.

“Contraband. Want to make sure no gets any smart ideas and tries to sneak anything aboard. The Cap’n ain’t joking when she says dry ship. People always think they can hide something for later in their clothes,” here she held up the mass of cloth that was Reslo’s ‘new’ parka and allowed it to unfold, then dropped it onto his pile,  “gear,” she gave one of his ‘new’ over boots a shake and held it upside down with no result, “or their... mech.” he got a look that could only be described as ‘significant’. She put his stuff down in a loose pile. “You seem clean.”

Gunner shrugged nonchalantly and started to gather his items. He’d played this game before, with people who were deadly serious - on the SPOT deadly serious. A Capellan crewer performing this same search & seizure to a Servitor had no reason to care what happened after that luckless ‘servee’ had been reported. He’d seen it happen many times and had learned to perfect this particular poker face.

He smiled easily. “I’ve nothing to hide. You’re welcome to take a poke around my mech anytime you like. Just let me know so I can open her up for you.”

Her face twisted into a sour smile, as if she too was saying, and I’ve played THIS game a few times too, and you’re not in my league.. “Right. Go get this stowed and get ready for lift off mechjock.”

“Roger that. Maybe I’ll see you around Tee.” he said, knowing full well there would be no way to avoid her once they were underway.

“Whatever...”

[monbvol]

Pilot's Quarters
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth
8 January 3033 22:30

Kathy wasn't surprised at the Captains decision for a dry ship.  Some ships were, some were not.  More often than not it did seem to cause problems on the long hauls.  Everything else was pretty standard fare.  Don't get in the way and don't cause problems.

The announcement about needing cold weather gear was somewhat unexpected but she figured if she were out in those conditions longer than her flight suit could keep her alive then something somewhere had gone horribly wrong.  After all she is a spacer and an aero jock.

[Stormcrow]

04-01-33 – 0853Z
Office 31, 2278 Miranda Davion Avenue, Port Miranda, Fallon II

Cass was not a very happy girl as she pulled in to the parking lot that abutted the office building at 2278 Miranda Davion Avenue. She had to get up before the sun in order to get here on time. Her flat was on the opposite site of Port Miranda from the Warehouse District. She didn’t waste time dressing up for the meeting wearing a pair of khaki-colored linen slacks and a indigo silk blouse.

It may say January on the calendar, but the Fallonian summer was just ending and it was already 30C out at this time of the morning. As she entered the building, she pulled her hair back into a pony tail and dabbed away some of the sweat she had perspired on the short walk to the entrance. Climbing the three flights of stairs that brought her to the 3rd Floor, she approached the door to Office 31, stopped and adjusted her blouse and then entered.

There was no one in the outer office, which found a bit odd. She proceeded to the inner office and gave it a gentle rap on the frame.

 A manly voice answered, “Enter.” So she did.

“Morning, sir, didn’t mean to disturb, but there was no one out front. I’m Jocasta Colburn. I’m your 9 o’clock.”

“Welcome, Ms. Colburn. Have a seat. I’m Johannes Rabagliati, but may call me Mutt, if that would be easier”.

Taking a seat, “Thank you, Mr. Rabagliati You can call me Cass”

Mutt flipped through a file. “Well, Cass, I see you that are retired DMM and a pilot.”

Shifting in the rather uncomfortable chair, “Yes, but I’m spent a good deal of my time out of the cockpit, as both a liaison officer and a intelligence officer for the regimental staff. I’ve got a good command of Japanese and Spanish, as well.”

“Why the proficiency in two languages” asked Mutt.

“It’s been family’s feeling that if you want know your enemy it helps to know their language. It gives you a better understanding of how they think. I started speaking Japanese as child. Picked up the Spanish while being stationed out on the edge by the Alliance.”

“What brings you here, Cass?”

“Easy. Fallon was a place where I wanted to build good memories after retiring. It didn’t quite work out that way. It’s been more bad than good. I need to leave this world like a K-Zee addict needs to kick his habit.”

“Fair enough. I know a lot of people who feel the same way.” Mutt took a sip from his coffee cup. “Next question, do you have your own plane?”

“Sure do. It’s an old Hellcat-213 that, over the course of time, has been refitted into the ‘R’ model designed for long range recon and intercept. There’s barely anything left the original fighter aside from the landing gear and the central part of the airframe.” She smiled as she spoke showing the pride she felt for the “Scarlet Pimpernel.” “She’s parked at the military field south of the Spaceport and ready to fly.”

“If I hire you, could you be ready to leave within the week?”

“I can be ready in two days, max. Close some accounts, clear my flat and sell my car and I’m ready to go,” she said with an affirmed, yet happy tone.

“Good to know. Now, do you have questions for me?”

“Two, where are we going and how much will it pay?”

“All that I can tell you, right now, is that we are going into Kuritan space on what amounts to being a salvage mission. As for pay, everyone will be getting shares in what we recover plus food, lodging and transportation. Does that sit right with you?”

“One more question, Mutt. How far into Kuritan space would we be going?”

“Again, without going into too many details at this time, a very long way.”

“Sounds good. Money is not an issue right now, but it’s nice to know that there is a chance of a payoff at the end of the road. One more question, how many Japanese speakers have you got lined up for this mission? You’re going to need them if you are going to be dealing with Drac Customs.”

“You’re the first I’ve interviewed so far. I’ve got quite a few more interviews left and I do believe that a couple of the files I’ve looked indicated that particular skill. Plus, I’m sure Captain Steele has a couple of people who speak Japanese amongst her crew.”

“That’s good to hear, the more people who speak it, the better our chances of getting by the Customs agents.”

“Cass, you sound like you have made up your mind before I made up my own.”

“Sorry, I am committed to getting off of this rock. Your job is the first opportunity I’ve had since making my decision to leave. If you want me, I’m ready to go.”

“Good, you’re hired. I’ll inform Captain Steele on the Stainless Chrome that you are on your way.”

“Thank you, sir. Here’s to a fruitful endeavour, Mr. Rabagliati.”

After filling out some paperwork and signing a couple of forms, Mutt gave Cass directions to where the Stainless Chrome was berthed and points of contact on the ship, once she got there.

The Chrome was going to be her next stop. She needed to claim her bunk and determine how her Hellcat was to be loaded, from the ground or in-flight. Then, she had a few things she needed to pick up, things that she thought the mission might need.

[codesurge]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
07-01-3033

Saori slid down the last meter of the chain ladder and landed softly on the burning tarmac. She spun around and headed straight for the stocky black man who was standing at the foot of the ramp leading to the DropShip’s cargo ramp. She swallowed the temptation to vent at the spacer who had directed her to the next bay over and decided to try the diplomatic tack first.

As she reached within earshot of him, she slowed to a fast walk and offered a friendly wave at the man. If he’d seen her approach, he had obviously chosen to continue staring at the old-fashioned clipboard that he was holding. The irritation continued to bubble over as she got within arm’s length of the crewmember. Tall and grizzled, he had a non-nonsense look about him that would otherwise have caused her to leave him alone. But today was different.

“Excuse me,” she said.

No response.

“Excuse me, are you in charge here?” This time a little louder than the last.

Still no response.

Saori’s annoyance boiled over and she stepped right in front of the spacer, causing him to look at her with a blank expression on his face.

“Are you in the person charge of the loading process?” she repeated, gesturing at the cavernous bay entrance. “I was directed by you to enter this bay here, but it’s obvious that there are no gantries in place to stow my ‘Mech. Surely you must be mistaken?”

After a long pause, the man narrowed his eyes before speaking.

“Captain’s orders. This is the only space we have left. Take it or leave it.”

“What do you mean ‘only space left’? I passed by the other bay earlier and there were ‘Mechs stowed in gantries. Have you not provisioned space for the rest of the team?”

Another long pause, followed by a sigh.

“Look missy, Mr. Rabagliati told us that we wouldn’t be needing gantries ‘cos we’re bringing just about everything we can fit onboard an old Union class. And that’s including the kitchen sink. As it is, we’re just about full up so consider yourself lucky you’re even getting space to bring that newfangled fancy ‘Mech of yours onboard.”

Saori wasn’t what you’d call a cool character; she tended to flare up under certain situations that got under her skin, and insulting her – or by extension her ‘Mech – just so happened to be one of them. The

“Fancy ‘Mech?! My friend, you have no idea how much one of these would be worth on the open market. I’ll bet you’ve never even dreamed of such money. I’ve seen some of those beat-up, grungy looking rides you’ve got stowed in those gantries and there’s no way any of them are worth as much as mine.”

It was a bit of an exaggeration, but anything to put a little pressure on the spacer. Unfortunately, the man with the clipboard refused to budge.

“Listen missy, I don’t have time to deal with your little situation right now. I’m the loadmaster and my orders are to stow all remaining ‘Mechs in the general bays. You’re either onboard by tonight or you can find yourself a new contract. Good day.”

With that, the man turned around and walked back into the DropShip. Saori had half a mind to give chase but thought better of it and stalked back towards her ‘Mech.  Hopefully she’d find a decent enough bay tech to give her Great Faith the respect it deserved.

[guardiandashi]

Jan 6, 33
Office 31, 2278 Miranda Davion Avenue,
Port Miranda, Fallon II

Karen checked in 20 min early for her interview, hoping it would help.

Considering she is interviewing for a technician position she had chosen to wear comfortable options, docker style pants instead of fatigues, a silk blouse, and her leather jacket.  The only  items that may seem out of place are the plasteel boots (more commonly considered mechwarrior attire)

"Mrs. Foxfire?  Johannes Rabagliati, call me Mutt."

"What sort of tools do you own?" Mutt enquired

Karen replies that she has a full set of tool kits, for both aerospace, and 'mech repairs, which brings her to what should be a relatively minor concern. "While I do not currently have a vehicle, 'Mech, or Fighter, I do have a small amount of luggage, between my tools and personal effects I would need to stow a standard 2 ton shipping crate where it is accessible? most of that is of course my tools, however I do have a few small items, that I would be unwilling to leave behind, mostly my mechwarrior and pilot gear.
Yes Mutt even though I am hiring on as a technician I can pilot a battlemech, and fly an aerospace fighter.

Mutt asked why Karen was interested in hiring on. 

She replied that since she had exhausted all the leads to find a mech or a fighter she could afford, she was interested in relocating and a contract with him was frankly one of the best options, unfortunately, Fallon II doesn't seem to get a lot of traffic, meaning any other travel arrangements are going to leave her at least a month or two longer.
My main question as at this point have to do with what compensation I might receive, and what my duties would be.

Mutt replied that compensation would be dependant upon what was recovered, and that her duties would be mostly maintenance and repair based work on the fighters and or mechs.
After filling out some paperwork and signing a couple of forms, Mutt gave Karen directions to where the Stainless Chrome was berthed and points of contact on the ship, once she got there.
Karen thanked him, and went to pack up her gear and arrange transport of the gear to the dropship.

[Ian Sharpe]

DropShip Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda
Fallon II, Federated Suns
 
8-1-3033

Hart half-listened to the briefing, more than a little bored.  He was more interested in the other people in the hold really were, and how the little cliques would form around them.  Who would be shagging who.  Who Mutt's subordinate officers would end up being.  The usual spacer crap was all he missed.  No doubt, it was a tight ship, stay out our way, blah blah blah.  Spacers did so love to flaunt their little bit of authority.  He had hoped against the prohibition on alcohol, finding it a silly thing.  But maybe he'd hang on to a few C-bills this way.

When the assembled mercenaries were dismissed, John flowed out of the DropShip with them.  It was difficult to think about the cold, let alone snow, on a  world like Fallon II.  He managed to get two pairs of moth bitten long johns, a parka three sizes too big, and a pair of boots that might fit with two pairs of socks.  Gloves, well, he had a nice pair of leather gloves that would work.  Privately he wondered why the hell they needed cold weather gear?  The Dropper must not be staying.  The price was exorbitant, but a hand on the butt of one of his pistols was a rather effective bargaining tool.  After agreeing to a still inflated but less egregious price, Hart happily paid the man. 

Finally, last call before they were going to boost off world.  From experience, he knew that there was still likely to be alcohol on board the ship.  However expensive and or terrible it might become.  So instead, he ordered a porter.  Much like on Terra, spaceport handlers still drank the stuff, and so it was almost always on tap at spaceports, or some local variation.  Three drinks later, the short mechwarrior was making his way up the ramp.  He turned and looked at the planet, then spat.  "Nice to be leaving you, Fallon II." 

He was early, not many of the others were back yet.  Off he went, looking for a bunk. 

[codesurge]

Bay One
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth
08-01-3033 - 21:10Z

Saori grunted as she lifted the box of personal belongings out of the cockpit of her Wolfhound and handed it over to the skinny dark-skinned young woman who was standing on the crane’s elevated platform. Veronica Ramirez was one of the unit’s techs, perhaps a few years younger than herself and still learning the basics of electronics repair. Though Veronica was far from being a fully qualified ‘Mech tech, she was a walking encyclopedia of ‘Mech knowledge – she had been able to identify just about every ‘Mech variant onboard the DropShip, including the hodgepodge ‘Mech that had begun life as a Rifleman. Streaks of dyed blonde through her brown hair were marks of an independent streak that Saori had started to respect.

Of the various techs who had helped her secure her ‘Mech in the corner of Bay One, Veronica had been the friendliest and not knowing any other people onboard the DropShip, Saori had asked for her assistance with taking some boxes out of her ‘Mech’s cockpit. Veronica had agreed in return for a drink and more information about how she obtained her Wolfhound.

Reaching back into the recesses behind her ejection seat, Saori handed over the second box to Veronica before clambering out of the cockpit onto the platform, hitting the button to secure the hatch behind her. As the hatch hissed shut, the tech pulled the control lever that lowered the crane’s arm to the bay floor.

“What the heck do you have in these? Gold bars?” grumped Veronica as she hoisted a long box onto her right shoulder and started walking towards the service elevator that would bring them to the living quarters onboard the Stainless Chrome.

“I wish they were,” quipped Saori as she followed behind, half-struggling with a shorter, wider box that held some clothes and personal mementos that she’d been taking along her journeys. “If I had a c-bill for every time someone asked me that question, I’d probably be able to afford gold bars.”

Veronica laughed and pushed the up button, eliciting a soft mechanical whine from the elevator shaft. The doors opened ahead of them, revealing an older heavyset man whose blonde hair was shot through with white hair.

“Which floor are you ladies going to?” prompted the man with a kindly smile as they stepped into the elevator.

“Habitation level please, Mr. Haddurson,” replied Veronica, returning the elder man’s smile. Saori heard the stranger’s voice and realized it sounded.. familiar. It took a few moments before she realized where she’d heard that accent before – her home planet of Rasalhague.

“Saori?”

Veronica’s voice snapped her back to the present moment as she set her crate on the floor and finally shook the hand that was proffered to her by the man.

“Sorry about that. I’m Saori Haruka and I’m with the expedition team. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

“Baldur Haddurson. Ship’s helmsman and part-time purser,” chuckled the man as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. “By your accent, I would assume that you’re from..”

“… Rasalhague!” finished Saori for him. “I was trying to remember where I’d heard that accent before! It’s truly a small galaxy, isn’t it?”

“Aye, but it’s been a long while since I’ve been back home. That’s the nature of the spacer’s life; once you leave you never know when you’ll be back again. Perhaps someday,” Baldur replied with a wistful look on his face.

“That’s true. You never know though, especially with our destination being in Kuritan space.”

The elevator ground to a halt as she spoke, the opening of the doors interrupting the end of her sentence. As Baldur stepped out of the elevator, he patted Saori on the shoulder.

“It’s truly good to see another Rasalhagian onboard. I’m sorry that I can’t stay and chat, but the Captain has asked me to review our travel plans. And you know that she’s one tough cookie who doesn’t put up with delays to her schedule. I’ll see you two ladies around,” smiled Baldur as he gave them a wave.

Waving back as the doors slid shut, Saori was happy to have a fellow Rasalhagian on the same trip. While she might have been far from home, it made her feel just a tiny bit less homesick. The good feeling was quickly compartmentalized and stowed away as she turned her attention to her next task - sorting through her existing collection of winter wear to see if she needed to supplement it with any purchases from Fallon II before departure.

[Sharpnel]

Office 31, 2278 Miranda Davion Avenue
Port Miranda, Fallon II
January 3, 3033
1606Z


Jameson N'Koma and Tomasina Marzano were sitting in the outer office waiting for the prospective employer to call them in. The two had spent the past day and a half talking about leaving and decided that they would go on this expedition, if Mr. Rabagliati were willing to hire them. They did not have to wait too long, as receptionist sitting at the desk hung up the phone and told them to go on in.

They opened the door and, after shaking hands with Mr. Rabagliati, were told take a seat.

"Sorry for the wait. I'm Johannes Rabagliati, the leader of this venture. You must be Mr. N'Koma and Miss Marzano. So, what brings the two of you here.”?

"You don't remember us do you, Mr. Rabagliati?" asked Jameson.

"No, I don't. Where have we met? replied a quizzical Johannes.

Looking at Tommy, "Wasn't it four, maybe five years ago, now."

Tommy answered "Four and a half years. July of 3028, during the "pirate" raid"

"That's it. We picked you up on the top of that cliff. You were in and out of it, so that' probably why you don't recall."

"That was bad day. I lost the family 'Mech and a couple of friends that day"

"Yeah, a bad day, but the militia beat those Drac raider, err "pirates', off in the end."

"Well, if I didn't say it then, I'll say it now. Thanks, to both of you for picking me up and probably saving my life."

"No worries, Mutt. We just did our job that day, even managed to put a couple of missiles into the back of that Dragon that took you out."

"Thanks again, so, back to my original question, what brings you here?"

"We've recently become unemployed and looking for something different. A chance to get off Fallon is even better."

"Do you feel the same way, Miss Marzano?"

"Call me, Tommy, please, Sir. Pretty much. Wherever Jingo goes, I go."

"Jingo? Interesting nickname. My friends call me Mutt."

"Yeah, I've had it since I was a kid."

Mutt looked the two of them over and saw that the two had a shared kinship and had probably known each other for a long time. "What can you two bring to this mission?"

"Well, I'm VTOL pilot and fly anything from Ferret to a Cobra to a Karnov. Tommy has been my crew chief and mechanic since I joined the militia a dozen years ago. We've the best of friends ever since."

"That's good to know, Jingo. Do you have your own VTOL?"

"Sure do. I just acquired the papers to a Marten VTOL. All we have to do is put the missiles back on her."

"Is that the same bird you picked me up with?"

"Jingo, Tommy, I'm going to cut this interview short. Anybody that risks their lives to save mine can have a job with me anytime. It's the least I can do."

Tommy and Jingo looked at each other. "Thanks, Mutt" said Jingo, "just one question, how much does it pay?"

"There's the rub, Jingo" said Mutt. “This is a recovery mission and everyone involved will get a share of what we recover. It could be a lot or it could be nothing. That's the risk we are taking on this trip."

"Sounds worth it to me. What about you, Tommy"

Giving Jingo a knowing smile, "I said it before, Jingo. Wherever you go, I go. It's just that simple."

"Glad to have you both. Just one thing, you two are responsible for the care of your Marten. If necessary, I could probably make some sort of restitution once the job is done."

" No worries, Mutt, between the two of us, we've got enough scratch to keep the 'Wakka Dakka' in the air for a good while."

"Good, the two of you can report to the Stainless Chrome as soon as possible. Space is limited, but if you get there quick enough you should be able to get you pick of billets."

 All three shook hands as they parted ways.

[Ian Sharpe]

Bunk Room 3
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth
08-01-3033 - 22:25Z

Hart's spirits had risen when a couple of the other 'jocks had been forced to pull out, for one reason or another.  It wasn't any particular coldness on his part.  Firstly, everyone on this little jaunt was a fringe type, like him.  Forced to get by as best they could, taking jobs for lowlifes, nobodies, or both.  At the end of the day, survivors.  So he felt that they'd be OK.  Secondly, better odds with the women.  It was two lads who had left.  Third, and most importantly to Hart, a better chance at a single cabin. 

Hart hauled his kit bag and newly acquired cold weather gear to his 'cabin', the narrow, twisting corridors of the ship slowing him down, the sword making it worse.  Normally, he walked with one hand on its hilt, but with both occupied, not much hope for that.  He'd been told he'd be bunking with one of the others, dashing his hopes a little, but not terribly much.  On a Union, it was expected.  The occupant was not.  He’d only been told that it was a fellow light ‘Mech milot, but Hart let out a low whistle when he saw who shared the other bed. 

The lady who was unpacking her belongings on the right-hand bunk had black hair that fell to her shoulders, framing delicate features and hazel eyes that hinted at a mixed heritage. She looked up as he paused at the entrance to the room.

"You the Wolfhound 'jock?"

She nodded and got to her feet, offering a handshake by way of greeting.

“Yep, name’s Saori. The WLF in Bay One is mine. Who do I have the pleasure of bunking with?”

He felt a little stunned at getting lucky with regards to the woman he was going to be bunking with.  Eurasian descent, which wasn't uncommon in the Draconis March.  He knew other Marchers who hated everything of Asian extraction, but he couldn't say the same.  He liked the food, the women.  And she was certainly interesting looking.  "John Hart, Chisholm's Raiders.  I run the Firestarter.  Looks like we're going to be sharing this cabin..."

He squeezed in, taking up a great deal of the standing room, let his kit fall to the floor for a second.  His kit bag got tossed onto his rack, then the snow gear.  "Don't know about you, but I'm bloody happy to be getting off Fallon bloody II.  No offence, if it’s your home world.  I'm from Conroe.”

His new roommate continued to unpack her bag as she spoke, hanging up what looked to be a rather fetching Asian-styled blue dress in her cupboard. “Nope, I’m not from about here either. In fact, my home’s in Kuritan space. Rasalhague, to be exact. And you’re right about this rock, it’s the place where boredom itself comes to get bored.”

“Exactly... Fallon has nothing going on.  Even the raids have mostly stopped, thanks to the Hussars.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Saori replied. “It’s not like my previous contract here was paying me a combat bonus for getting involved in any of that mess. Not sure about our latest mission though. Hopefully we’ll get to do more than dig up some old fossils from a cave.”

“Well, it’d be nice to at least have the prospect of seeing some action again.  You mind if I have a smoke?"

She looked up at him and frowned. “Do you mind doing that outside the room? I’ve got a mild allergy to cigarette smoke and would prefer not to keep you up at night with my non-stop sneezing. Don’t ask me about that last bit.”

"Oh, sure.  Not a problem."  No point in being a complete bastard on the first day, Hart thought.  Plenty of time for us to hate each other's gets soon enough. 

[Dave Talley]

"Captain Steele, I apologize for the pallet of beer I brought along, I turned it over to PO Lord to lock away until either you or Mutt release it. I didn't even think
about the dry ship rule, too  much time in Lyran transports. If nothing else the beer may be useful for a bribe, feel free to trade it away, I got it at half price after a poker game"

After that Franz went across the deck to where the Beast was kneeling and locked down, noticed a small puddle of coolant, whipped out his noteputer and made a note of it. Gonna have along trip, plenty of time to get it fixed. He climbed up to the cockpit and grabbed his two duffel bags, opened one and withdrew a backpack from it and a few other things from it and stuck them in the pack. He re-stowed the half empty duffel in the jump seat, grabbed his Long Rifle and climbed out after sealing the cockpit.

"PO Lord, what are the current bunking arrangements?"

[guardiandashi]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth

07-01-3033 - 14:00Z

Karen got out of the taxi and tipped the driver, Grabbed her duffel, then walked over to the dropship, delivery and loading area, She made sure her container was there, and then started looking for the cargo master; Petty Officer Lord, My name is Karen Foxfire, I don't intend to try to second guess your loading or weight distribution calculations, I have one container which should mass about 1750kg although it is in a std 2 ton container, but it contains all my tool kits, and those add up to about 1400kg, that likely will end up in one of the bays for servicing 'mechs or fighters, if that helps with your load planning.  Additionally are there any "inspections" that will be needed? I can discuss that with the correct officer if needed.

Karen then went back over to her container to double check that the seals and locks were still intact and hadn't been tampered with, and that nothing had been added to the outside of the container.  After verifying that everything appeared correct she headed to the dropship to see what quarters might be available, and claim a spot.  Hoping she  can at least get a bunk and won't have to "camp" on the deck or a fighters wing or something. 

As Karen headed up ship, to see what quarters were still available she thought she would look at the fighter tech berths to see if they were still open, (and claim 1 if they were) otherwise she would look at either a double or quad room first.

as she went into the quarters usually designated for aerospace techs and noticed that neither bunk seemed to be claimed yet, Karen set her duffel on floor and checked out the bunks, seeing that neither was noticeably better than the other she put her duffel on the left hand bunk to claim it.

After thinking a few moments Karen set her duffel into the lockable storage after pulling out a lock, and locked it away.  After descending the ship to the ground she went over to her crate and after another quick inspection began the unlocking and opening procedure making sure to block the inset combination keypad, and triggered the print lock, the combination, and the keycard, she then pulled out 3 cases the first was a small semi-rigid  case that contained her flight suit, the second was roughly the size of a thick briefcase, and the 3rd was her general tools case, after getting a quick inspection for contraband (there wasn't any) she spent a few moments re-securing the container.  Then headed back up to the berth she had taken, she inspected the flight suit, and after verifying all systems were working stored it in her "hanging clothing area" and unpacked the fatigues before lying down to rest for a few minutes.

After relaxing for about 20 minutes she changed into a set of "work" clothes making sure to double check everything.  dagger right boot, check, pistol charged and on safe, holstered, "technician" uniform check, tools secured, she headed over and looked into the fighter bays, ... hellcat fighter, and Corsair fighter .. ok she then headed down to the bays where the mechs were being stowed and "eyeballed" the mechs already loaded, and winced at the cargo load in bay 2, thinking that's going to make servicing those things a bit of a pain and getting them out is going to be worse, after making sure she wasn't needed to help with the loading, she headed groundside to stay out of the way of the crew moving the mechs into place and spent some time walking around the area... plenty of time to be cooped up in the dropship after we take off.

[Latro]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth
8 January 3033 - Twentythree-Thirty-ish

Tap... tap... tap...

“All right... any time now...”

Tap... tap... tap-tap...

‘Siiiigh...’

Tap... tap... tap... Tapitty-tap

“Today please...”

Lying flat on his back in his bunk, the mattress of which conveniently doubling as an acceleration couch, Gunner tapped his fingers along the taut straps of the safety harness that would keep him from flying about the cabin like a ping-pong ball in a coffee can during lift off. And for the gazzilionth time he checked the adjustments on his harness.

Two or more gee transit - he was fine with that.  Zero to low gee flight - totally cool.

Hyperspace events were easy-peasy - just take two deep breaths and make sure you closed your eyes.

But lift offs and landings, when the ride was wibbly-wobbly and bumpy-wumpy...?

Not so much...

When your stomach felt as if was still on the ground and doing its best to catch up...?

Not one bit.

And almost worse than the ride was the wait for lift off. To Gunner the anticipation was awful.

He took a deep breath and recited to himself...

"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing......Only I will remain."

Tap... tap... tap...

Right.

”Dammit. I picked a lousy time to quit smokin...’”

[SethsMatches]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth

07 Jan 3033 - 22:00Z

(Smokers always find the spots with the best views) Kiva thought to herself as she looked out over Fallon II, upwind of the smokers - she didn't smoke.

It might’ve only been a secondary cargo bay door but it was still twenty meters in the air, which meant that it gave a nice view of Fallon II from a raised height.

Kiva quietly chuckled at the irony that one of the best places to find a little peace and quiet before a dropship’s launch was on the dropship itself the night before she launched.

The temperate breeze blowing out over the deck had the smell of a working spaceport in it and gently nudged her daydreaming in the direction of another memory.

-------

Kandis – The Fourth Succession War

It was dark, a lance of the 26th Lyran Guards had still not reported in from their sortie, Kiva was part of the maintenance party assigned to them and since they’d reported that they were on their way back to the depot with ‘significant battle damage’ their maintenance party could not go to bed until they’d arrived and the damage had been analysed and patched up.

“How long have we been awake Jo?” asked a junior tech from across the card table.

“36 hours. Look at your damn watch and bet; stop stalling.” He replied

“He can’t. An LRM reloading mechanism ate it when the mechjock misheard him and started the reloading cycle early.” Kiva interjected while throwing in three chips to match the tech’s bet.

“Serves ‘im right for not following procedure” said Jo.

“We we’re being ambushed at the time you know. It’s not my fault the bastard couldn’t hear me over the autocannons!”

“Shout louder next time then!” Exclaimed Jo with both joviality and triumph as he slapped his hand on the table “I think this pot is mine. Three Kings! Your beer rations are mine!”

“I beg to differ, sir” Kiva said with just enough delay on the honourific to stop Jo reaching for the chips. “Counting the two on the table I believe I’ve four queens. It’s about time I won some of my rations back.”

The junior tech quietly folded as Jo sat down with a ‘herumph’ “Where are those bastards?!”

------------

The ‘bastards’ eventually turned up with one of the lance’s mechs being supported by the other two like a drunkard who couldn’t walk straight, which had slowed them down. The repair detail eventually spent another six hours reseating the gyro to stop it ‘wobbling’ in its cradle, but only after the pilot had walked the mech up and down the hanger a few times while singing drinking songs to hysterical laughter.

(That was a loooong day. We called them the ‘drunken bastards’ after that) Kiva thought as she started giggling so hard she had to lean against the cargo door.

[Dave Talley]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
0100, 08/01/3033

Hold 2,
Franz was in the Beasts cockpit thinking to himself,
in the storage bin under his seat he was repacking his cold weather kit.
Isulated suit, parka, backpack water bladder, snow camo suit, backpack, MREs, first aid kit, 5 pairs of socks, 3 pairs of gloves, 5 sets of underwear and clothes, and waterproof white rubber boots to go on over his regular stuff
2 autopistols, 4 clips, 6 clips for his zeus rifle, 6 kbar knives in various places, noteputer and recharger, ok checklist done, now to check the set in my room...

back in his quarters, apparently bunking solo for now
he double checked his travel kit, which held a smaller cold weather kit, plus stuff for his travel time, his primary noteputer, 2 chargers, a stack of chips with survival manuals, reference works for mech manfacturers so he knew what was made where, along with trade journals to keep track of, his latest news downloads, some fiction, history books, and his microprojector so he could show a map or data on the wall

he did have a small duffle with his travel rations, specifically his favorite mechaid drink mix, and a couple boxes of cookies and emu jerky


now to get set up he thought, clean wall to project on, and then I will talk to Mutt and the captain.....

[Malich]

Apologies for the delays, I'm back up and running now (I think)

The Final preparations for launch were nearly completed and the announcement had gone round the Dropship that they would be under acceleration soon. On the Bridge of the Stainless Chrome, Captain Steele,  Kevin Hicks, Martyn Lord and Baldur Haddurson were ensuring that the dropship was ready to launch.

"Ok gentlemen, let's make sure we do this by the book. Let's try not to destroy our chance at riches before we've even started. So..." She paused for a second and looked down at the computer generated list on the display in front of her. "Bay doors closed and sealed?"

"Locked and green."

"Spaceport umbilicles?"

"Separated and clear."

"Exhaust clearance zone?"

"We're clear to three hundred yards in all directions. Incursion warning set."

"Airspace?"

"Clearance received, Traffic present but clear of out corridor. incursion warning set."

"Ok, Department checks." Each department would have completed it's own exhaustive list of checks boiling down to a simple "Go / No go" report to the bridge.

"Engineering?"

"Report go flight."

"Cargo?"

"Report go flight."

"Passengers?"

"Warning went out. IF they're not buckled in, that's their fault."

Steele chuckled slightly at Haddurson's comment and looked at the next item.

"Navigation?"

"Course plotted, weather conditions are within tollerence. INS is set and it navigate. Backup system currently reading zero drift. We're go for flight."

"Helm?"

"Control checks complete, go flight."

"Ok, We're go for flight. Engineering, begin priming the engines for lift. Nav, transfer the programme to helm."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the wood lined box that Mutt called home the rumble of the Dropship's drives built to a crescendo and the shaking increased to a point where his vision blurred. The acceleration built slowly, pushing him down into the foam mattress of his bunk as the Dropship began to lift skywards.

They were on their way.

[monbvol]

[ooc]I'll try and get an actual in transit post up later but for now the launch will suffice.[/ooc]

Now this was the kind of gravity one was meant to experience.  Kathy thought to herself.

The vibration and shaking of a launch just seemed to resonate with her, especially with older Dropships where it was far more noticeable.

The throttle back would be far too soon but it would still feel right.

She settled deeper into her seat feeling the strain of the extra gravity needed to reach orbit.  It reminded her of her first time experiencing high acceleration.  That combination of thrill and terror had stuck with her.

She felt the ship break into orbit.  She couldn't help but let out a quiet squeal of delight as the sensation was unmistakable as she felt herself slightly jump in her seat from the throttle down.  Most pilots were good enough to make it a smooth transition but Kathy had done this enough times that only truly exceptional pilots could sneak a throttle down past her.

With the return to normal gravity the signal allowing passengers to move about again being given Kathy moved from her seat over to her bed.  It had been a long day and she never could sleep through a launch.

[guardiandashi]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth

08-01-3033 ~ 19:30Z

As Karen walked out of bay 2 of the dropship she started mentally going over a checklist of things to be done and equipment status, ... crate stowed well it was definately on the ship, but wether it was stowed with the general cargo, or in one of the tools or parts bays she wasn't quite sure.  She would find it soon enough, vac suit well her flight suit would work all the seals were good the consumables were topped off, and everything had checked out.  and if worse came to worse she could always use it as hostile environmental gear until she could dig the real cold weather gear out.

Of course with what the dropship captain had said at the meeting it might be interesting to see if the fighters were going to get any servicing en route.  Oh well not her problem unless she was asked /ordered to help service the fighters.

lets see, so tools check, long term gear check, clothing to wear shipboard check, music to listen to... yep she had over 100 hours of music she liked on chip, and saved in her computer and sound system, her account with the comstar coordinated bank was updated and current, everything else she could think of as far as "need to do's" was good.

After thinking a minute she decided to grab her noteputer and check 1 more time to see if there were any new ebooks or similar posted on the planetary network.  After spending about an hour finishing up gathering things for some of the practically guaranteed "down time" karen headed back to the dropship checked in, and headed to her quarters/bunk to secure things.  she had never managed to sleep through a lift off, but resting up until time never hurt.
~~

About 30 minutes before liftoff anticipation got the better of her and she went over to her locker and pulled out her flight suit and began donning it.  putting on the suit, and boots she left the helmet where she could grab it at a moments notice if needed and settled back into her bunk and tucked the gloves away where they would be convenient.  Not that she was anticipating trouble, but for some reason she just felt better once the suit was on.
As the time for liftoff aproached She started counting down all of a sudden there was "something more sensed than heard" as the dropship seemed to wake up? no that wasn't it.. but a few seconds later there was a sudden rumbling growl transmitted through the structure of the ship, that kept changing in tone and then steadied, then it happened there was a subtle shift and weight started growing, with the ship shaking and anything that wasn't secured started rattling.  The weight grew quickly pushing her slightly down into the mattress and they were away.

As the ship accelerated through the atmosphere the sound of the ship gradually changed, and then the gravity tapered off gradually dropping and settling at what felt more like 1G.  She listened carefully trying to tell if there was any odd sounds she could perceve other than the circulation of the air pumps, she wondered if this crew was going to stop and do a full "leak test" some did others didn't Captains that suspected their hulls weren't as fully sealed and sound as they could be usually did especially before long cruises which this could definately qualify for.

[Warclaw]

As the countdown to liftoff slowly ran down, David eased back into his bunk/grav-couch, the thick gel pad that served both as mattress and acceleration cushion forming to his body.

Grimacing, he carefully reached down and plugged a thin power lead into a concealed port on the outside of his left arm's bicep.  Most of the time he could ignore it and pretend that he still had all his original limbs, and that he didn't have an expensive prosthetic replacing his arm.  Most times....

It was times like this, when he was forced to recharge the batteries, or service the small servo-motors, that it was driven home to him.

Or when fatigue got the better of him and the dull ache in his shoulder that never went away made it hard to sleep.

And he didn't care what the docs said, "phantom limb syndrome", or "referred nerve stimulus" be damned, his wrist still itched!

Looking away, he took a deep breath.  If it got too bad he always had the sleeping pills.  But he hated to resort to them.  They always left him feeling fuzzy-headed for a few days after, and he didn't want to ever become dependent...not that he couldn't use a drink or three to quiet his nerves and dull the ache. 

[BirdofPrey]

Meat grumbled a little to himself.  It had taken Donna longer than expected to fix the arm of his mech, so he missed out on getting one of the few remaining gantries leaving him to just lay the rifleman down in an empty corner of the lower cargo bay.  The loadmaster insisted Meat help with chaining the beast down.  He wasn't used to seeing it laying down like this; even the salvage yard had a couple of basic repair gantries that doubled as single mech hangars, though their construction wasn't any better than the average shed.  He hoped it wouldn't be too difficult to get the rifleman back on its feet when they got to wherever it was they were going; the arms weren't much more than the guns they contained, so they weren't much help in that regard.

The reason for Meat's annoyance this time, though, was his trouble finding a cabin.  His first step onto the ship had been his mech's, and after wasting time getting that chained to the floor, he went to retrieve his personal effects and his 4x4, which the loadmaster insisted on also chaining to the floor saying something about 'weight calculations' and 'center of gravity concerns'.  Not having his own vehicle anymore would certainly waste more of his time.  After wandering half lost thought the twisting corridors of the passenger deck and seeing every single cabin he poked his head into was already occupied, he finally found an open bed in one of the cabins in the area all the techs were holed up in.  one of the beds was arranged to mark that it was taken, and the locker on the left was locked, but the important part was the bed and locker on the right were unclaimed.  Meat stuffed his duffel into his locker then went back to the cargo deck to grab the duffel from his truck and double check that the survival kit and toolkit in the cockpit of his mech were properly stocked and secure.

===
Meat had finished unpacking, and was back in his rifleman checking that everything in his cockpit was secure for launch while the DI ran a full diagnostic to make sure everything in the mech was secured for launch, when a call to assemble in the mech bay for a safety briefing.  Meat grudgingly complied.
===
Meat returned just before launch after having a few last drinks before the flight with a hooded coat and gloves in hand along with a few other articles of cold weather clothing. He found that the other bunk in the cabin was occupied by a woman, but she seemed to by trying to take a nap, so he just ignored her and stowed his gear.  He laid down and tried to take a nap himself.

Meat was startled awake by the launch warning.  After making sure he was strapped in, he looked over and noticed the woman was wearing a flight suit, and the helmet was right next to her.  He began to get a little panicky at this point; he didn't have a space suit nearby if it were needed.  Meat tried not to think about it, shutting his eyes tightly; soon the ship began to rumble and he felt heavy.  He didn't dare open his eyes till the rumbling mostly subsided and he didn't feel as heavy anymore.  He noticed at this point, that he was breathing somewhat heavily, and was covered in a cold sweat, but at least he had survived his first takeoff assuming it was actually over.

[Sharpnel]

Launch of Stainless Chrome


Jingo and Tommi were strapped into the quasi-acceleration couches in their shared cabin, breathing slowly and their bodies trembling. Neither had left the safe confines of Fallon II's atmosphere before this night and the both of them were scared shitless of this little fact.

Jingo reached out with left hand to grasp Tommi's right hand. "Well here we go" he said. "She replied,"First time for everything."

Rumor had it that their screaming could be heard over the roar of the Chrome's engines and that it lasted for nearly half an hour. Of course, the rumor was wrong, it lasted for forty-five minutes and that was only because they passed out.

[Dave Talley]

Franz settled onto the cot as liftoff started,
he satback with his noteputer and started reading the latest news that had come in,
'riding in a dropship is nothing new for me' he thought,'mom used to take me along
on some on planet cargo runs as a kid, and this isnt anywhere near as rough as ejecting'

[codesurge]

Note: I haven't kidnapped Ian Sharpe's character! This is a collaborated post :)

Bunk Room 3
Dropship Stainless Chrome
Port Matilda Landing Field
Port Matilda
Fallon II
Federated Commonwealth
08-01-3033 - 2355

"So then.  Who's on top?"  Hart posed it as a double entendre, but meant the bunks.  "Less you wanna share?  For the burn out, I mean." 

Saori chuckled as they walked back into the stateroom. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine on my own bed.”

His roommate threw a couple of loose belongings into the cupboard and drawers underneath her bed before tying her long black hair into a neat bun behind her head. “Besides, I think you’d best prepare for takeoff, unless you think that getting flattened against the deck is the latest form of entertainment.”

He didn't really like leaving or entering atmosphere.  Truth be told, he'd prefer to stay ground bound all his life, save for his jump jets, but that was no way to get anywhere. 

"You don't get TDS, d'you?  I seen it up close.  Not pretty.  Back in the First Conroe, had a lancemate named Mackenize who had it bad.  But for the grace of God go I, right?"  He was covering his nerves with small talk.  Not helped by the fact that he desperately wanted a smoke and even better, a drink right now.  Something to calm him down.  Settle his nerves.  And him on a dry 'ship.

“Nope,” muttered Saori as she finished securing her hair and lying down on her bunk, strapping the takeoff belt around her waist and tightening it as the roar of the engines reverberated through the hull of the ship. “Traveled enough to have seen my share of it too, but I’m alright with launches. Sucks to be immobile till we reach high orbit though, but that’s physics for you.”

"So I been meaning to ask you...what side were you on?  In the Fourth?" he asked.

Saori definitely seemed younger than him, and then there was the question of where she had gotten a WLF-1.  Hart was intensely interested in checking out that mech, even more so than he was in its pilot.  But pasts could be trick things, filled with all sorts of pitfalls and memories.  Probably even more so for a merc.  He scoffed at the idea, but hadn't he, himself, been a mercenary this past year?  Technically, anyway.  Noble's private army had to count as something different.  But Hart wanted to know about the jock he was sharing a berth with.  So damn the proprieties.  Could he trust her?  What if she was a Snake? 

He realized Saori was talking, snapped out of his train of thought. 

“… just out of the Academy, so didn’t see much in the way of action. Don’t suppose you saw any frontline combat, did you?” she asked as the sound of the Stainless Chrome’s engines grew to a deafening roar.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have many more interesting stories to tell. But for now, hang on tight as I think we’re just abo..”

Saori was cut off as the engines reached a monstrous crescendo, then an almighty shove came from beneath them as the Stainless Chrome lifted off into the Fallon night.

[Dave Talley]

Franz was jolted awake by the launch siren, he sat up from the table,
looked down "hmm glad the noteputer is waterproof, or slobberproof at least"


as he stood up, the engines rumbled, and as liftoff happened, he stumbled to his cot

[guardiandashi]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
Shortly after orbital/atmosphere escape

Karen looked over at the now occupied bunk and noticed the man in it seemed a little paniced or stressed.  so she decided to try to help him a bit. 

Hello My name is Karen foxfire, is this your first launch?

He indicated it was, so she apologized of her putting on her flight suit bothered him, as the crew and passenger quarters were pretty safe from depressurization what with the 3 pressure rated bulkheads that you had to pass through to get into the quarters areas, (unless there was some kind of catastrophic event in which a flight suit probabally wouldn't help.  ) I was mostly wearing it for the G suit properties, and if extra hands are to be needed in say the fighter bays, or other potentual vacuum exposed areas.

She then volunteered that she was one of the techs, and was wondering if he was a mechwarrior, tech, infantry, or pilot (aerojock)

[monbvol]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
T Minus 4 days to Jumpship

Kathy strummed her guitar as quietly as she could so as not to disturb anyone.  So far the casual bumps into the others hadn't really told her much but she suspected she would be able to get along with everyone well enough.

The Union had a reputation for being cramped but once micro gravity would set in she knew plenty of places to hide out in if she needed some time away from the others and stretch out.

She had already given her fighter a once over just in case it would be needed before they jumped.  She knew it wasn't likely but it was better to be safe than sorry.  She didn't need to beg for any tools just yet but because she couldn't afford to bring her own set she knew if something more complex needed done what she brought in her duffel bag would not be enough.

The biggest threat until the DC border would actually be boredom.  Kathy doubted that she'd be able to negotiate much in the way of side deals to help protect the jumpships they'd be traveling on as they wouldn't be with very many past the initial jump.  Neither did she know how the people in charge intended to get across the border unmolested.

Kathy cleared her mind of such thoughts.  It was still quite some time off and no sense worrying about it now.

[Ian Sharpe]

DropShip Stainless Chrome

Hart had quickly settled into his usual shipboard routine: lots of sleeping, hitting the gym facilities(such as they were) and generally trying to pick up what he could from the techs.  Unlike some mechjocks, he had great respect for the techs who kept his mech running.  And in the Conroe Training Battalion, the 'jocks had all worked very closely with the techs.  Coupled with his fear of his family re-entering the ranks of the Dispossessed, that meant he was more than willing to listen and learn.  He was working on Charlie's knee actuator, rebundling the myomers, trying to get them a bit tighter.  Her left knee had always been a bit gimpy, and he couldn't be sure if it had been damage he had inflicted or something from before. 

He smoked a cigarette while he worked, a thin stream of smoke slowly drifting upwards.  He didn't think it hurt the Chrome's air any, the re-circ systems on Unions were usually no good anyway.  "Like this?  Twist it here?"  He asked the tech, who was supervising.  They said they had a trick to it, one he was eager to try out.  He looked back over his shoulder, wanting to make certain he was doing it correctly. 

[SethsMatches]

OOC: Here goes  :)

--------------------

Dropship Stainless Chrome
At the end of an exceptionally boring day

Kiva was sitting in the general mess idly toying with her pack of cards.

She looked around the table at her companions and said: “During my military service time we’d play for our drink rations. Since this ship is clean of such sinful things” She said with an overly innocent tone. “we’re going to play for something else. Money.”

“All buy-ins are maxed at 5 House bills and only three buy-ins, including the first, are allowed. No need to pauper ourselves and cause enmity while our cabin fever grows.”

“To keep things entertaining and simple I propose ‘Archon’s Poker’. One card placed on the forehead without looking followed by three rounds of betting. The two players left of the dealer are small and big blind respectively. Friendly trash talk and posturing is encouraged. I'll deal the first round. Cheaters lose more than their money.”

“Who’s interested?”

A small chorus of confirmations started up as various house and C-Bills were revealed.

Kiva began passing out chips from a set that appeared next to her then began dealing cards.

“Right, on three flip the card… 1… 2… 3!” She couldn’t help but grin at an entire table of people, including her, slapping themselves on the forehead.

Kiva scanned foreheads and faces...

“I’ll be nice to you all this first time around… I match the big blinds bet.” She said as she placed two chips on the table.

“Whose poker chips are these anyway?”

--------------------

OOC: Who’s next  }:)

[BirdofPrey]

Dropship Stainless Chrome
Shortly after orbital/atmosphere escape

Karen looked over at the now occupied bunk and noticed the man in it seemed a little paniced or stressed.  so she decided to try to help him a bit. 

Hello My name is Karen foxfire, is this your first launch?

He indicated it was, so she apologized of her putting on her flight suit bothered him, as the crew and passenger quarters were pretty safe from depressurization what with the 3 pressure rated bulkheads that you had to pass through to get into the quarters areas, (unless there was some kind of catastrophic event in which a flight suit probabally wouldn't help.  ) I was mostly wearing it for the G suit properties, and if extra hands are to be needed in say the fighter bays, or other potentual vacuum exposed areas.

She then volunteered that she was one of the techs, and was wondering if he was a mechwarrior, tech, infantry, or pilot (aerojock)

"Yeah this was, uh, my first flight.  I've only ever been in a helicopter before.  It's nice to meet you; the name's Gunther Black, but I go by Meat over the radio.  I drive that excuse for a rifleman that's cluttering up the bay."  Gunther told this new acquaintance, "It's not much to look at, but it's mine."  Meat went back to reading, leaving Karen to her own devices.  After a few minutes he left the cabin to have a better look around the dropship.

Dropship Stainless Chrome
At the end of an exceptionally boring day
Meat felt like a jackass slapping himself in the forehead with a playing card.
He said to the table, "If I were the archon I'd be embarrassed to have something like this named after me."

He scanned the foreheads around him.  "I'm feeling lucky today, I'll raise ya"  Meat said, throwing a couple of chips in the pot.

"And whoever wins this one should pick the next game"

Meat shuffled his chips while he waited for the next bet.

[c_gee]

Dammit! What happened next?

[Dave Talley]

not sure, we were justing getting started and bang everyone topped posting

[guardiandashi]

like dave said just kinda stopped

[Sharpnel]

Malich, who started this thing, has been around since the 16th of February

[Grognard]

yep the GM (Malich) seemingly quit.

but I managed to create a character, and I'll be publishing a story about him soon.