[[Posted by blacktigeractual, 30-08-2010, 17:17:43]]Hussy, Truk reflected looked like a child’s toy that had won a fight with a trash compactor. As Kei and Yuri rumbled up and took position to cover the small group of people in the clearing, the big battered Marauder, smoking from rents in its armor crouched on its back canted legs, bringing the machine’s cockpit closer to the ground. The clamshell armor over the cockpit opened and Major Gilmour popped out like an unlikely elf.
“Well Jimbo, seems you’re in a bit of a bind here. Keep this up and a lot of folks’ll get killed, or at least a lot more then already have anyway.”
“You want me to surrender then?”
“Yeah, pretty much I mean, you could continue to fight, hell you might even win against us. But what you’ve got left ain’t gonna be worth a can of beans…” The younger man looked at him curiously a small smile on his face.
“You can’t tell me you wanted this to happen, I’ve got a read on you, a pretty good one, an honorable career for the most part, service to the state…hell they made you regent of a whole world, man.”
Jim Condit looked around; he couldn’t concentrate on the Terran’s face. A squad of Tiger infantry slipped into view herding a group of fifteen or twenty of Condit’s milz. A young infantry man caught his eye…Peter McKinney, just turned nineteen.
Turning back to the Major he asked, already knowing the answer; “What happens to my men?”
Following Condit’s gaze, Major Gilmour nodded. “The ones who weren’t involved in any atrocities will probably end up reassigned.” He shrugged. “The rest?” The Tigers’ Gunslinger spread his hands.
The Regent of Kowloon reached for the offered comlink and performed his last act for the Archon.
Chapter 4 Cleaning up the shit
…all units Kowloon Planetary Militia, this is Regent James Condit. Stand down, I repeat, stand down. All units hold in place and fire in self defense only until relived by elements of the 90th Heavy Assault Regiment. We have surrendered…It’s over.”
Broadband surrender transmission, Kowloon
Justine Sinclair looked around in annoyance. I stifled a grin.
All dressed up and nowhere to go, eh Sin. The Hungry Tigers commander had come expecting a hot drop and a stiff fight. She didn’t get one and now she was grousing about it.
Talk about
fightus interruptus.
Jim Condit had been the one to end most of it peacefully, although some of the partisans had tested the limits of the Milz definition of self defense. He was in the brig aboard the
Cat’s Eye. It was the only place we could keep him safety. Lizzie Ngo wanted him shot, but I convinced her of a trial a real one first.
I really wanted John Zazula’s engineering wizards here, but Sasha Vinson had them crawling all over the Kell’s factory on Arc-Royal. Still using Sin’s troopers and Josh Harding’s New York Guards we were making progress with the reconstruction efforts. Also having a battalion of heavy ‘mechs around really went a long way towards keeping everybody playing nice.
That and having Liz Hazen around worked out pretty good. Her experience with being a partisan herself worked well with Justine’s spin doctoring.
Likewise having a destroyer in orbit wrecked the plans of the bandits Condit was sponsoring from escaping.
“Still haven’t heard from the Lyran’s?” I asked. Justine shook her head.
“Nope other than that they are sending someone, and to have the Duchess and Baroness Mosovich there when he arrives. That and a personal request from the Archon to hold off on the trial until her representative gets here.”
I snorted. “How’d Little Bit take it?” I asked referring to Elizabeth Ngo.
“About like you’d expect, she just smiled but damn it Bruce that smile could cut glass, then she put putted out of there with that walk she has.”
“So have you met your great, great granddaughter yet?”
I groaned as Sin smiled devilishly.
Pat…pat…pat…patGracie Liu closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Bruce’s little surrogate Synthia could stress out the creator himself. Pulling guard duty for the little nut job was supposed to be easy duty while her broken arm healed, helped by the nanites in her blood stream. At least she mused this one wasn’t psychic like Bruce’s adopted daughter was.
It doesn’t help that Sandy Gilmour looks like a mix of Sarah, Bruce and Synthia.Pat…pat…pat…silence.“Gracie?”
“Yes your grace?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No your grace.”
“Just checking.”
Pat…pat…pat…pat.Gods just shoot me now.