A Fist Full of C-Bills - Character Background thread

[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.