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Author Topic: Who Goes There?  (Read 25102 times)

JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #180 on: 24 May 2020, 13:39:06 »
Still, I wonder if you'll have a Clanner tell his story of encountering something...unnatural.
Would I be adding it to this collection if they weren't?

Also, if anyone wants to take part, the PoV character hasn't been named yet, so suggestions for a Clan Jade Falcon mechwarrior are welcome.
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

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Cannonshop

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #181 on: 24 May 2020, 20:56:12 »
Would I be adding it to this collection if they weren't?

Also, if anyone wants to take part, the PoV character hasn't been named yet, so suggestions for a Clan Jade Falcon mechwarrior are welcome.

suggested names? heheheh...

everyone wants a Pryde or a Malthus, a Hazen or something prominent from the Khartoon or the novel lines.

I'm no different, but to me, it seems most fitting for a Falcon running into the weird shit to be named "Pershaw".

or maybe a Buhallin.

hm...

Female Pershaw, male Buhallin. (seems to break with the standard patterns a bit).

Ileana Pershaw.

David Buhallin.

there you go, two names to reject!
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JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #182 on: 25 May 2020, 05:52:48 »
suggested names? heheheh...

everyone wants a Pryde or a Malthus, a Hazen or something prominent from the Khartoon or the novel lines.

I'm no different, but to me, it seems most fitting for a Falcon running into the weird shit to be named "Pershaw".

or maybe a Buhallin.

hm...

Female Pershaw, male Buhallin. (seems to break with the standard patterns a bit).

Ileana Pershaw.

David Buhallin.

there you go, two names to reject!
Was actually thinking about them not having a Bloodname just yet, and getting a shot at earning one as a result of the events depicting ("You kept your head when shit got crazy: we need your DNA in the gene pool").

There is, however, a Star Captain Garth Von Jankmon, and having to type out his full name all the time is yet another reason why I don't write for Clanners all that much.
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

Requested: One Mark V ECM unit, 1,000 meters of Fullerene cable, one low-yield nuclear warhead.
Purpose: Surprise party for foreign dignitary.
AFFS Special Operations requisition form

Sharpnel

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #183 on: 25 May 2020, 07:42:47 »
Digging deep and looking among the original founding Bloodnames and propose the following: Vikram Shambag (male) and Astrid Qwabe (female)
Consigliere Trygg Bender, KGC-01BL King Crab, The Blazer Mafia
Takehiro 'Taco' Uchimiya, VND-1R Vindicator 'Taco', Crimson Oasis Trading Company
Tai-i Shizuko Lofgren, Third Infantry Company, Oniwaka
Sergeant Franz Staudegger, T-12A1 Tiger, 42nd Avalon Hussars
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It's an Omni, so I can build it into whatever I please - JHB
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JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #184 on: 25 May 2020, 18:44:42 »
David Buhallin.
I'm using this for a secondary character.
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

Requested: One Mark V ECM unit, 1,000 meters of Fullerene cable, one low-yield nuclear warhead.
Purpose: Surprise party for foreign dignitary.
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DOC_Agren

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #185 on: 26 May 2020, 16:54:06 »
Glaring hypocrisy is the most hallowed of all Clan traditions.
 
 ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D :thumbsup: :thumbsup:  I tried to keep a straight face but  ;D ;D :D :D
"For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed:And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!"

JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #186 on: 26 May 2020, 17:56:23 »
 
 ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D :thumbsup: :thumbsup:  I tried to keep a straight face but  ;D ;D :D :D
It's funny because it's true
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

Requested: One Mark V ECM unit, 1,000 meters of Fullerene cable, one low-yield nuclear warhead.
Purpose: Surprise party for foreign dignitary.
AFFS Special Operations requisition form

JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #187 on: 29 May 2020, 08:50:07 »
The fans have spoken: looks like we're heading for Clanner Town next
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

Requested: One Mark V ECM unit, 1,000 meters of Fullerene cable, one low-yield nuclear warhead.
Purpose: Surprise party for foreign dignitary.
AFFS Special Operations requisition form

JA Baker

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Who Goes There?
« Reply #188 on: 29 May 2020, 14:59:09 »
Someone wanted a story from the prospective of the Clans, and this idea popped into my head.

Also, I don't usually write Clanners, unless their the antagonist, so characterisation may be a little off.


Urban Legend


Goat Path. A horrid name for a truly horrid world.

I have no idea why anyone would want to settle such a desolate and unyielding world: just trying to grow enough food to live off of is, I have been told, nearly impossible. Nor does it possess any natural resources that can not be just as easily found on countless other, more hospitable worlds. But, for whatever reason, it was colonised, and as such, we could not simply ignore it as we undertook our Great Crusade upon the Inner Sphere.

My Cluster was one of the first to make planet-fall, just ahead of the Steel Vipers. We found only a token garrison of second-line Mercenaries and local Militia; certainly no threat to warriors of Clan Jade Falcon. But they refused our batchall, and then ignored the rules of honourable combat by concentrating fire and trying to hide in the planets capital. We had come as liberators, and having to half destroy a city to weed out the last remnants of the Militia caused no end of collateral damage.

Strange words, you may think, for a Crusader such as myself, but even I can appreciate that resources needed to rebuild a city could be of better use elsewhere, and dead workers produce nothing.

We had arrived expecting to face our enemies in open combat, to test ourselves against them in the crucible of war, only to be denied time and time again. It is no surprise that we let our anger get the better of us, especially when we discovered that the BattleMech that had been giving us so much trouble was but an UrbanMech, a unit even the lowest of solahma would consider beneath them. Finally having it cornered, Star Captain Garth Von Jankmon took it upon himself to punish the Inner Sphere pilot.

First, he disabled the UrbanMechs autocannon, then used the imposing bulk of his Summoner to slowly force it backwards towards a river that ran through the middle of the city. The pilot tried to surrender, pleading for mercy, stating that their ejection system had been disabled by battle damage. But the Star Captain was not listening, instead slowly burning the armour from the UrbanMech, forcing it to stumble backwards until it toppled into the fast-flowing waters. It tumbled over and over, eventually getting stuck against a half-submerged rock midstream. With its armour ruined, its internal spaces stated to fill with water, slowly dragging it deeper into the water.

The pilot was trapped, and slowly drowning is no death for a warrior, even Inner Sphere militia, and I targeted the cockpit, asking permission to fire, ending their suffering.

Garth Von Jankmon refused, stating that the UrbanMech was his opponent, and he would not allow anyone under his command to break zellbrigen by targeting an opponent he was in combat with. It was foolish, pure rage on his part: the unnamed pilot of the UrbanMech had challenged his dominance of the world, and he wanted to not only punish them, but to make a statement should anyone else wish to challenge him. So he made us stand on the riverbank and watch as the helpless pilot slowly sank into the water, the radio filled with at first cries for help, then a string of curses aimed at Clan Jade Falcon in general, our Trinary in particular, and Star Captain Garth Von Jankmon by name. I have never heard such cold anger, such certainty of righteous indignation, as I heard in that woman's voice.

The final sound was the report of a single gunshot echoing around the strike machines cockpit, then silence as it finally vanished from sight.

Our Star Colonel, a towering Elemental, was less than happy with Garth Von Jankmon's actions, and challenged him to a Circle of Equals, where she beat him into a bloody pulp, before having our Trinary assigned to garrison Goat Path as the rest of the Cluster moved on to the next target. None of us were happy with this news, but none more so than Garth Von Jankmon, who made it his personal mission in life to make the people of Goat Path suffer for his dishonour. He cracked down on any dissent harshly, handing out collective punishments where a single example would have been more appropriate. Do not get me wrong, I am no Warden, but even I can see that a warrior can only stand on solid ground. And our Star Captains actions were making our position increasingly unstable. We were trying to educate the population as to how to adapt to life as members of Clan Jade Falcon, to lift them up above the level the Inner Sphere had sunk to since the fall of the Star League. Only then can they become full, productive members of the Clan.

There were a few minor incidents at first: work-slows and minor civil disobedience that could easily be handled by the solahma troops assigned to act as paramilitary police. But no, the Star Captain insisted on sending out a point of Elementals to break up a peaceful demonstration by force. He then went on to insist that they did so augmented, with life ammunition rather than less-lethal alternatives. It very quickly descended into a massacre, with the unarmed protesters no match for the Elementals, and they scattered through the streets of the planetary capital, leaving the dead and dying in their wake. Garth Von Jankmon gave the order to pursue, grinning as he watched the feed from the Point Commanders armour.

I was about to challenge him to a Circle of Equals myself, when suddenly and without warning, one of the Elementals was killed, their armour ripped asunder by an unknown and unseen enemy. The rest of the Point reacted with the speed and precision one would expect of a Jade Falcon, backtracking the weapons fire and seeking out any hidden foe with the laser-like keenness of our namesake. I called up a map to a secondary screen, quickly locating the street they were on: the enemy seemed to be down a blind alleyway, which ended in a narrow passageway that would have been impassable to anyone but unarmoured infantry. It was, in short, the perfect kill-box for the SRM equipped Elementals, and they quickly unleashed everything they had, filling the shadows with flame and shrapnel. The ground beneath their feet shook, as did the buildings that surrounded the alleyway, the explosions echoing out across the city like a rolling thunder. Garth Von Jankmon grinned like a Wolf whose just learned to count without using their fingers as the smoke and flame filled the main screen.

But that smile died on his lips as a burst of autocannon fire answered back, decapitating one of the Elementals instantly. The remaining three fired their second volley of SRM's, then dropped their spent launchers and advanced, lasers and machineguns at the ready. The Point Commander moved forward centimetre by centimeter, a bolt of azure laser fire shattering brickwork just above her head. The other two surviving members of the point took the opportunity to fire long, rolling bursts of machinegun fire into the alleyway, their shots hitting nothing but masonry.

Using hand gestures, the Point Commander ordered one of her subordinates to jump onto the roof an an abandoned warehouse that made up one side of the alleyway and try and get a look at who and what they were facing. It was a smart move, as even a Wolf will be sure of their prey before attacking: they leave that foolishness to the Smoke Jaguars. With the other survivors providing covering fire, they managed to make it to the roof and glanced down, only to report that the alleyway was empty, aside from burning debris.

Garth Von Jankmon was enraged, ordering the rest of the Trinary and the solahma troops out to secure the city. He personally led the search for the unseen attacker, even as members of the technical cast surveyed the site of the battle. Despite the obvious damage done to the two dead Elementals and the surrounding buildings, they found no spent ammunition or shell casings. They were, however, able to determine that the primary weapon used seemed to be a Class-10 autocannon firing 150mm shells. They were not, however, able to explain just how a vehicle or BattleMech capable of carrying such a weapon could slip in and out of the alleyway without being seen, especially given how narrow the only other entrance was.

For two days we searched the city and the surrounding area, looking for any clues as to who or what had attacked the Elementals, but all we had to show for it at the end was two dead warriors and two broken suits of power armour.

Our esteemed Star Captain grew vindictive, convinced that the people of Goat Path were conspiring against him, and his already harsh rule grew tyrannical. He imposed a dusk-to-dawn curfew on all but the most essential of workers, cutting food, water and power rations for everyone else. Houses were searched completely at random, protests met with a rifle butt to the face, or pistol to the back of the head. Such tactics may have their place, but even a blind man could have seen that the people were as much in the dark as we were. No matter what we offered or threatened, nobody came forward with anything useful.

Two weeks later, and one of our MechWarriors, Karl, was on patrol near our base when he reported taking fire from an unseen enemy. Despite being a fledgling, he remained calm, even as we could hear the alarms and warnings his BattleMechs computer was giving out over the open radio. The rest of his Star raced to support him, even as the rest of us raced to the hangers, neurohelmets in hand. I was starting up my Mad Dog when I heard the radio suddenly go quiet. We raced out to the scene of the ambush, only to find the burning remains of Karl's Kit Fox in the middle of am open field. His Star had already spread out, looking for any signs of his attacker, but they found not a single blade of grass out of place. Certainly no trace of anything capable of bringing down a warrior of the Clans.

Again the technicians examined the scene, and again they found no trace of the weapon used, but determined that it was the work of a Class-10 Autocannon in the 150mm range.

Unfortunately, this seemed to tip Garth Von Jankmon into full paranoia: he became convinced that there was a conspiracy to keep him from obtaining glory on the front lines. He had been a ristar, having won his Bloodname at a young age, and on his first attempt. To find himself relegated to garrison duty on a world so far from the fighting... I truly believe that it broke something inside him.

As one of his senior subordinates, I was given the task of investigating just what was happening, and I immediately contacted the Watch, seeking information on any possible new weapon or equipment that would allow an enemy to strike unseen and leave no trace but carnage. In return I received some briefing documents about Null Signature Systems and Chameleon Light Polarization Shields, but this was, as they say in the Inner Sphere, lost technology that had been incredibly rare even during the time of the Star League. Even among the Clans, only a few working examples existed, and only then as curiosities for the Scientists and Technicians to wonder at.

No, if the Successor Lords had access to such technology, they wouldn't be using it to pick-off seemingly random warriors on a world far from the front, but trying to strike at our leaders on the front lines, deployed as part of a dezgra headhunter unit. Nor could they explain the lack of physical evidence, as even if the unseen attacker or attackers were using ceaseless ammunition, there should have been traces of the shells found. But, despite extensive searches of both locations, not a single piece of shrapnel had been found. One technician, a rugged looking man by the name of Mac, had said it was like the rounds had impacted, then just melted away.

A third attack saw a squad of solahma infantry on a security sweep annihilated, but one managed to report over the radio before being killed that their attacker was a BattleMech, but interference garbled the transmission as they were about to identify it. Garth Von Jankmon ordered every available unit to the area, having ordered our technicians to repair and refit some of the damaged Inner Sphere vehicles and BattleMechs recovered from the field of battle as isorla during the invasion, assigning them to solahma pilots and crews to booster our numbers. While far from parity with even a second-line unit, they added an extra pair of binaries to our numbers, allowing us to search a much wider area.

The unforgiving nature of the terrain required the use of primarily hover vehicles, and the majority of the solahma force was equipped with light, fast moving tanks such as the uninspired but functional Pegasus. Sweeping far and wide, they relished the opportunity to serve their Clan once again, and their eagerness and zeal could easily have been mistaken for that of cadet given their first taste of combat. More than once, I had to remind them that they were venturing too far ahead of my star, earning chuckles from MechWarrior Dusa, joking about how I sounded more like a Falconer than a Star Commander.

I swear, if she was not sibkin, I would have seen her in a circle of equals, true though her words may have been.

But the solahma did pull back, meaning that they were still within visual range when the lead vehicle exploded, the ammunition for the SRM launcher detonating with such ferocity that the turret was sent rocketing high into the air. The other vehicles scattered, age having not dulled the reflexes of their crews too much, as their turrets turned to search for the enemy. A volley of autocannon fire ripped into the side of another tank, but the pilot was able to pull the vehicle into a tight turn, getting clear before it managed to claw its way through the armour. My active and passive sensors showed nothing, no sign of the enemy, but one of the solahma tanks had obvious managed to back-track the origin of the weapons fire, sending a flight of missiles into a thick clump of trees that had found purchase amid the sharp crevices that dotted the landscape.

Zellbrigen having long been forgotten, I followed up their attack with two flights of LRM's and a fully spread of lasers, sending the heat levels in my cockpit shooting up. The small grove exploded as the missiles ripped them apart, smoke and flame filling the air. The surviving tanks and the rest of my Star added their own weapons fire to the cauldron of destruction, massive chunks of rock being pulverised to dust every second.

Despite all logic, a fresh burst of autocannon fire answered back, followed by the azure flash of a small calibre laser. They tore the turret off of one of the Pegasus', the pilot fighting to keep the suddenly unbalanced vehicle under control as they sort what little cover there was. I gave the order to keep up the barrage, even as I worked to fully encircle the enemy, not wanting them to slip away yet again. Every time I heard the tone indicating that my LRM launchers had reloaded, I sent them hurling towards the start still unseen enemy, my lasers likewise firing as fast as they charge, heat levels be damned!

Through it all, I could hear Garth Von Jankmon on the radio, demanding updates and conformation that we had killed the enemy that had been stalking us, seemingly with impunity. I tried filling him in, even as a Hover APC filled with solahma infantry burst into flames, the troops inside spilling out of the shattered hull, their bodies covered in flames. Dusa turned her machineguns on them, giving them a clean death over the relatively slow agony of burning.

Then, as soon as it had started, the attack was over: no more burst of autocannon fire or bolts of laser light emerged to taunt us. For the briefest of moments, through the smoke and flame, I thought I saw the outline of a squat BattleMech slowly turning away. But, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

It should be of no surprise that Garth Von Jankmon was less than happy with my report on the incident. He was unconcerned with our losses; he viewed the solahma as little more than munitions to be expended as needed, but our continued inability to bring the enemy to battle and at least identify them only worsened his paranoia. He began to look upon some of his fellow MechWarriors as if we were involved in the plot he felt sure was conspiring against him, keeping his own council and only informing us of his plans when absolutely necessary. He did take note when I mentioned seeing what appeared to be a BattleMech through the smoke and flame, and spent hours going over the gun-camera footage of the engagement, going so far as to bring in technicians drawn from what had been a local news channel to try an enhance the video.

It was, I fully admit, one of the smarter things he did, and something I would not have thought of myself.

Unfortunately, they found no conclusive evidence beyond a few suggestive shadows, but it was enough to at least deflect some of the Star Captains anger, and I was allowed to continue as a Star Commander. Others were not so lucky, as the attacks continued, claiming the lives of several MechWarriors and more of our solahma support unit. Our losses reached the point where even Garth Von Jankmon was forced to acquiesce to allowing some of the solahma to test for the right to regain the position as front line warriors. I was fortunate to find myself commanding David Buhallin, a former Star Captain and falconer, assigning to my star to replace a warrior reassigned to Garth Von Jankmon's star. While almost twice my age, David Buhallin brought with him a degree of experience and, dare I say it without sounding like a Nova Cat, wisdom, and I found myself relying on him more and more often.

Indeed, I was with David Buhallin when I finally found myself face to face with our elusive foe.

It was twilight, an the two of us were making a security sweep of the outlying guard posts around the former Militia base that we had taken for our own, his refitted Centurion keeping pace with my Mad Dog. Garth Von Jankmon had insisted that all such patrols be carried out by at least two MechWarriors in a bid to ensure that we would not miss anyone trying to ambush us. We were just creating a low rise, and I was about to challenge the guard post, when I heard David Buhallin utter a string of curses over the open channel. Looking up from my communications screen, I saw the outpost in flames, the coastal flash of ammunition cooking off amid the gathering dark. Back-lit perfectly by the flames was the low, hunched form of an UrbanMech.

I issued a challenge over every frequency, switching my weapons from stand-by to read without needing to even think about it. I saw the right arm of the Centurion beside my rise up, tracking the target even as the old warrior at the controls pulled away to the left, opening up the distance between us so we could catch it in a crossfire if needed. The torso of the UrbanMech slowly turned to face me, and I felt like I had walked into a ice storm.

Even in the steadily growing shadows, I could see where the lighter machine had be riddled with weapons fire, its armour stripped away to reveal massive rents in its internal structure. From these gaping wounds, water poured in unending torrents, almost making it look like it was bleeding.

I dropped my cross-hairs over the image on my HUD, but it refused to confirm a targeting lock. Inferred, mag-scan, neutrino detector; all my instruments showed nothing. Putting my trust in my own skill and training, I fired anyway, lasers momentarily turning night into day, followed by the thunderous roar of my LRM launchers sending 40 missiles down-range. David Buhallin joined is, adding two score of missiles and a long, rolling burst of autocannon fire that sounded like ripping canvas.

On my honour, I watched my lasers track up to and clean through the UrbanMech, followed by the wave of missiles and autocannon fire. I watched as they went straight through it as if it was nothing more than a hologram. I then watched, unable to do anything, as the UrbanMech fired a single volley of autocannon fire in response, blowing the head clean off of David Buhallin's Centurion, finally allowing him to die a warriors death.

It turned to face me, and I found myself frozen, unable to do anything more than await the end. But, instead of firing, it seemed to ripple, like a reflection on water, then slowly fade from sight.

I spent the next week in a cell while I was subjected to a battery of tests, both physical and physiological. I was made to recount the events surrounding the destruction of the guard post and the death of David Buhallin again and again, even agreeing to submit to chemical interrogation to ensure what I was say was the truth. Meanwhile, my Mad Dog and the remains of the Centurion were also subject to the strictest possible scrutiny possible with the equipment and personnel to hand. The gun-camera footage was checked and rechecked, looking for any hint that it could have been tampered with. But nothing was found, and eventually, Garth Von Jankmon had to release me. It was only then that I learned that two more attacks had taken place, claiming the lives of two MechWarriors and over a dozen of the solahma troops.

I did my best to compose a report for the Watch, trying to put into words events that I had no words to describe. In the end, I simply sent them the transcript of one of my interrogations and the gun-camera recordings. It took them another week to respond, during which no one ventured out of the base, even the solahma keeping themselves confined to the fortified barracks by the main spaceport. No further attacks were made, but it was becoming increasingly clear that we were losing control of the planet, a fact that chipped away at Garth Von Jankmon's already tenuous grip on reality.

He was at the point of ordering the remaining garrison out at gunpoint when we received our orders: remain on lock-down and await the arrival of a specialist, who was being sent under the personal authority of Khan Elias Crichell and Loremaster Kael Pershaw. To have arguably the two most powerful members of out Clan taking a personal interest in our situation was both reassuring and worrying, as it was clear that our actions, and inactions, were being observed at the highest levels.

Another month was spent hunkered down with the garrison complex, nobody daring to venture out. Some may view it as cowardly, unbecoming of warriors of Clan Jade Falcon, but I ask those people this: where is the honor in dying under the guns of an enemy you can neither see nor hit? Is it not far better to avoid wasteful combat and preserve the resources of the Clan for future battles?

Eventually, we received word that a ship had arrived at a pirate point just a days journey from Goat Path, and that a DropShip bearing the promised specialist was inbound. Garth Von Jankmon, who did not look or smell like he had shaved or showed in a month had us ready and alert, our BattleMechs ready to form an honor guard for what he felt sure was a high ranking officer. I only wish I had seen his face when the ramp lowered an a solitary Shadow Cat with the markings of Clan Cloud Cobra stepped out.

The pilot, a slender woman who looked so young I would have mistaken her for a cadet, identified herself as MechWarrior Stephanie, of the Josian Cloister. Her letters of introduction and authority identified her as an apparent expert in certain unexplained phenomenon and occurrence, something that certainly seemed to cover our situation. The first thing she asked for was to examine the site of the first incident, taking only a acolyte from the local HPG station as her guide, stating that she did not want to draw any unnecessary attention. And poor functionary, apparently a native of some distant world within the Free Worlds League, was understandably jumpy, sure that at any moment the UrbanMech would appear and kill them.

But their expedition went went unmolested, and Stephanie allowed the Acolyte to return to the HPG station with her thanks.

Next she asked to see what physical evidence we had, which was limited to the broken remains of the various BattleMechs, vehicles and power armour suits that the UrbanMech had destroyed. She spent hours explaining them in ways that even our senior technicians found difficult to follow, their inability to explain what was going on only enraging Garth Von Jankmon further. But, as she was operating under the direct authority of the Khan and Loremaster, there was nothing he could do but allow her to go about her business.

Dusa came to me, concerned about the Star Captains state of mind, and I promised her that I would step up and relive him of command if needed.

Eventually, as the only known survivor of a direct encounter with the UrbanMech, MechWarrior Stephanie asked to speak with me. She had taken over an unused office that had belonged to some functionary in what had been the Militia headquarters, and I found myself sitting across from her.

"Star Commander Astrid." She smiled, her slightly odd accent only helping to set her apart, despite the fact that she wore only a MechWarriors duty uniform, with only the shoulder patches to single her out, "Tell me about the battle for the capital, during the initial invasion."

"The invasion?" I blinked, confused by her question, "You are investigating the... UrbanMech that has been attacking our garrison, Quiaff?"

"Aff, but I have reason to believe that the two are connected." the Cloud Cobra poured two cups of what passed for coffee locally, "What do you know about my... position, amongst the Watch?"

"I had assumed that you are an independent investigator: you are not Jade Falcon, and indeed, your Clan is not a part of the invasion, so I thought that you had been sent to offer an impartial report on... whatever has been happening."

"That is only partly true, and I apologise if you think I have been misleading you." Stephanie sat, perfectly composed, in her chair, "There have always been things that we have had trouble explaining, scientifically: places, events, objects, even individuals, that sit outside of our understanding of how the universe is supposed to work. One of the lesser known duties of the Watch is to investigate these... oddities, as best we can, and determine if they are a threat to the Clans."

"And you believe that there is one of these, oddities, here on Goat Path?"

"Oh, you tell me: a seemingly second-line BattleMech that even most Inner Sphere pilots would look down upon has been systematically eliminating your entire trinary and your supporting solahma detachment, all while taking no damage and leaving no physical evidence besides the wreckage of its victims. Does that sound like something usual to you, Star Commander Astrid of House Qwabe?"

"Neg... Neg, it does not." I admitted, unable to meet her gaze, "I have no fear of death: I will do my duty for the Clans, come what may, but this... How does one fight an enemy, when your weapons seemingly pass right through it?"

"Finally, someone is asking the right questions." Stephanie smiled softly, "You are a good person, Star Commander. Even if I had not listened to people talking about you, I would have known that from your report on the invasion. And it is that goodness that saved your life."

"I do not understand."

"It is often said that the path to true wisdom starts with admitting that you know nothing." the Cloud Cobra smiled coyly, "The Militia UrbanMech that you faced in the city, the one your Star Captain forced into the river: you asked permission to destroy the cockpit. Why?"

"It was the honourable thing to do: the pilot knew she had no chance of defeating us, yet she still faced our entire Trianary. She should have been taken as a Bondswoman, possibly even given the chance to serve as a warrior again, if she proved herself worthy. Instead..."

"Instead, Garth Von Jankmon's left her to drown, forcing you all to watch. Why did he do that, do you think? And your true opinion on the matter, please."

"Star Captain... Garth Von..." I hesitated, but weeks of living on a knifes edge finally broke through my resolve not to let an outsider see my Clans internal issues, "He is a sadist and a thug. He hides behind honour and duty to excuse his own weakness, sending others out to face danger while he remains safely behind. I do not know how he managed to obtain his Bloodname, and if I ever meet his sponsor, I will challenge them to a Circle of Equals and take extreme pleasure in beating them senseless."

"Yes, I had come to the same conclusion on my own, and my report to your Khan will say as." Stephanie nodded, "People like Garth Von Jankmon have their place, but like all tools, you need the right one for the right job."

"What is going on, then?" I asked.

"Now that is an interesting question." Stephanie stood, "Come: let us talk with your Star Captain."

Garth Von Jankmon was not happy to see us. In fact, he was outright hostile, only stopping short of activity insulting Stephanie, despite her position as an official representative of both the Khan Elias Crichell and Loremaster Kael Pershaw. She ignored his obvious hostility and sat in one of the chairs across from his desk, gesturing for me to take the other.

"I shall get straight to the point." she looked him dead in the eye, her voice calm and level, "You have a wraith problem."

"A what?" the Star Captain snapped.

"A form of ghost or malevolent spirit, in this case the result of a curse placed upon yourself and your command due to your actions during the invasion of this planet." Stephanie remained completely deadpan, without a hint of emotion, almost as if she was a falconer instructing a cadet on some matter-of-fact subject, "I would, if possible, like to examine any surviving records pertaining to the pilot of the UrbanMech you forced into the river: she was obviously far from a normal individual if her spirit is capable of maintaining such an impressive physical presence after her death."

"Do you take me for a fool, Cloud Cobra?" Garth Von Jankmon stood, leaning across his desk, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, "I do not know what kind of game you think you are playing, but I am a Star Captain of Clan Jade Falcon, and I will not..."

"You are relieved of your command." Stephanie produced a verigraph chip and inserted it into the reader built into the desk. It scanned Garth Von Jankmon's DNA from where his hands were pressed against the screen, and an official order, bearing the signatures of both the Khan and Loremaster appeared, "You will remain confined to quarters until further notice."

Garth Von Jankmon looked like he was about to say something, but Stephanie raised a hand to silence him.

"The order has been automatically logged on your system: all of your access and authorisation codes have been nullified." She rose to her feet, staring him down with a strength of will I would never have suspected of her, "There may be a chance for you to regain what honour you have left. Only time, and fate, will tell."

I was surprised, happily so, when he refrained from attacking her: given his deteriorated mental state, I had half expected him to lunge across the desk and attempt to strangle her with his bare hands. Instead he slowly slumped into his chair, an oddly relieved look on his face, as if a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

TBC
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

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JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #189 on: 29 May 2020, 14:59:48 »
Cont

Unfortunately, that weight then descended upon me: as the senior officer left on Goat Path, I found myself thrust into the position of garrison commander. Not that I had much left to command, as the slow attrition of the UrbanMech, this wraith, as Stephanie had called it, had reduced our numbers to a binary of MechWarriors and Elementals, maybe two dozen solahma troops and the scattered elements of what preexisting local law enforcement had agreed to continue to operate under our laws. We controlled the former Militia base and the spaceport for sure, but it was clear that the rest of the planet was slipping into, if not open rebellion, civil disobedience. This only increased once word got out that Garth Von Jankmon was no longer in command.

There is an old Terran proverb; uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, and my head felt decidedly uneasy.

A week passed, during which I did my best to perform the duties of a garrison commander, only having to face two Trials of Position by warriors who thought they could do a better job. Other than that, things seemed to reach some kind of equilibrium, with the local population realising that they were only enjoying a respite before the work of bringing them fully into Clan Jade Falcon continued. Making a very open fact of the number of recovered BattleMechs and vehicles I had the technicians restore to working order helped. But, despite the relatively calm atmosphere, there was an underlying current of uncertainty: we remained secure in our base, unwilling to risk encountering the Wraith until Stephanie had come up with a plan for dealing with it once and for all.

In the end, the answer presented itself.

I was getting ready to spend some time in the sparing ring, looking forward to burning off all the excess energy that I had built up, spending days sat behind a desk, going over reports from the security detachments, when the general alarm sounded. I raced to the command centre, still dressed in my PT kit, dodging past people heading to their own assigned stations.

"Situation report!" I ordered as I stepped through the doorway.

"It... It is here, Star Commander." the young technician at the main console pointed at the main display screen.

The UrbanMech stood in the middle of the road, maybe a kilometre away from the main gate. I instantly recognised it as the same one that had killed David Buhallin, MechWarrior Karl and the rest. Its armour was still torn and twisted, far more water than was physically possible continuing to pour out through the rents.

"Founder preserve us..." I heard a soft voice behind me, and turned to see Stephanie had entered the room, and was maybe a step behind me, "It is read about such things in reports, but it is quite another to see one with your own eyes."

"Aff, that it is." I nodded, "Is there anything we can do? Besides allow it to use what is left of our Trinary for target practice?"

"We give it what it wants." There was a strangely neutral expression on the Cloud Cobras face, "Have Garth Von Jankmon report to the Mech-Bay. I will meet him there."

I gave the order to summon the disgraced Star Captain, then followed the strange MechWarrior to the cavernous hanger, where her Shadow Cat stood between my Mad Dog and Garth Von Jankmon's Summoner. He arrived soon after, flanked by a pair of Elementals, who Stephanie quickly dismissed.

"Ask not for whom the bells tolls, Garth Von Jankmon, for it tolls for thee." Stephanie nodded towards the gantry that led to his OmniMech, "It is time for you to face the Demon of your own making; perhaps a chance to regain your honour."

He only grunted, before quickly making his way towards the cockpit.

"I will go with him: I need to see the end of this with my own eyes." Stephanie turned to face me, "You may stay behind, if you wish."

"I am a warrior of Clan Jade Falcon: I do not like hiding from the enemy." I shook my head, "Even the immaterial ones."

The three of us climbed into and activated our OmniMechs in silence, only speaking to the somewhat confused technician assigned to traffic control. Garth Von Jankmon led us out of the hanger, followed by MechWarrior Stephanie and myself. The normally busy parade ground was empty, but I could see members of various casts watching from windows and doorways as we made our way out. The massive gate rolled slowly open, and I will admit that I half expected a burst of autocannon fire to come bursting through the moment the UrbanMech was in sight. But, instead, it seemed content to just watch us from afar as we made our way out, Stephanie moving to the left, while I took the right flank, forming a standard triangular formation with Garth Von Jankmon at the fore.

All the while, the UrbanMech remained motionless, water continuing to cascade from its ruined frame.

"Well, freebirth?" Garth Von Jankmon called out over every radio channel and the external speakers built into his Summoner, "Here I am!"

The UrbanMech remained as motionless as a mountain.

"is this not what you wanted? Am I not the one who killed you?" the Star Captain half laughed, "After all this, are you too afraid to respond? Was I right? Are you truly no warrior worthy of the..."

Whatever he intended to say next was lost to time, as the small laser that made up the left arm fired just once. Against all logic and understanding, it tore through the armour and protection of the Summoners cockpit, vaporising Garth Von Jankmon in an instant. The OminMech rocked back and forth a few times, and for a moment, I felt sure it would fall, but somehow it remained standing.

I looked at the UrbanMech, my hands only lightly grasping the controls, waiting to see what it would do next.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, then I noticed that I was able to see the treeline through the UrbanMech, as if it was slowly fading from sight. It was slow at first, but it soon became clear that the mysterious BattleMech was starting to just fade away into nothingness. Eventually, the only proof that remained to prove it had ever been there was the decapitated Summoner, smoke rising from the crematorium that was its cockpit.

It exists now, only in my memories.

The End
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

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PsihoKekec

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #190 on: 29 May 2020, 15:28:24 »
Was that the father or the mother of the more famous ER Small Laser of Doom?
Shoot first, laugh later.

JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #191 on: 29 May 2020, 16:08:56 »
Was that the father or the mother of the more famous ER Small Laser of Doom?
Let's just say that the Wraith rolled a double-six  8)
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

Requested: One Mark V ECM unit, 1,000 meters of Fullerene cable, one low-yield nuclear warhead.
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Sir Chaos

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #192 on: 29 May 2020, 16:33:01 »
Let's just say that the Wraith rolled a double-six  8)

Floating crits?
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croaker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #193 on: 29 May 2020, 21:09:30 »
Urban legend. You should be ashamed of yourself. :)

JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #194 on: 30 May 2020, 06:02:30 »
Urban legend. You should be ashamed of yourself. :)
What can I say? I had the basic idea, was trying to come up with a title, and the two just meshed  ::)
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
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mikecj

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #195 on: 30 May 2020, 18:11:43 »
 :thumbsup:  Nicely written as usual!
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nerd

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #196 on: 31 May 2020, 00:05:06 »
Good stuff. It's not perfect, but if TPTB ever went supernatural, this would fit.
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JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #197 on: 31 May 2020, 05:29:50 »
Good stuff. It's not perfect, but if TPTB ever went supernatural, this would fit.
Canon skirts the supernatural: Phantom Mech abilities, vision quests, Victors near-death experience, but they always stop short of pulling the trigger, always have an out. And I can understand that, as BattleTech is a relatively 'hard' sci-fi setting, all things considered.
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

Requested: One Mark V ECM unit, 1,000 meters of Fullerene cable, one low-yield nuclear warhead.
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Artifex

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #198 on: 31 May 2020, 08:27:16 »
This is an awesome collection of short stories. Especially Urban Legends was a really good one!  :thumbsup:

SulliMike23

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #199 on: 31 May 2020, 14:58:14 »
Ghost stories, gotta love 'em.

JA Baker

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Who Goes There?
« Reply #200 on: 04 June 2020, 17:40:44 »
Yet again, thanks to Cannonshop for letting me play with one of his ideas.

Also, despite the best efforts of my highs school teachers, I can't speak a word of French beyond saying "hello" (my German isn't much better), so I've had to rely on Google translate. I apologise in advance if the grammar is off.

Voices In The Dark

There are some things that one simply does not expect to happen in space. Not many, as one of the first things you learn growing up on a belter colony like I did, is that pretty much anything is possible in the unforgiving blackness of space.

That being said, I'm not above admitting that I almost shat my jumpsuit when I heard a rhythmic, and very obviously deliberate, tapping on the outer airlock door just after we jumped into... well, let's just say it was somewhere we officially shouldn't have been, certainly not with a cargo-hold full of the best small arms that the Lyran Commonwealth could strip the serial numbers off of and hand out to people who wanted out from under the jackbooted heel of the Draconis Combine.

Cargo like that can make anyone jumpy, especially given that the preferred method of dealing with people caught red-handed with that kind of haul involves finding out just how long it takes to suffocate in a vacuum.

The tapping repeated, and a shadow moved across the small viewport built into the outer airlock. It wasn't the main hatch, but rather a secondary intended to allow EVA crews ready access to one of the jump-sail rigging arms, and it was only by chance that I had even been in the area, trying to track down a slow pressure leak in the ventilation system. Gathering my wits as best I could, I pulled myself over to the airlock and looked through the window in the inner hatch. I couldn't see very much, except a gloved hand, waving at me.

I should have reported it to someone, but truth be told, I was in something of a daze: we'd just jumped almost a full thirty ight-years, into what was supposed to be an uninhabited system. We weren't even supposed to meet our contact for another two jumps, so there shouldn't have been a single living being in the entire system, outside of our ship.

And yet, there they were, signalling that they wanted in.

I wasn't sure what to do: they didn't seem overly hostile, and if they had been DCMS or ISF, they would have simply blown the lock and stormed in, guns blazing. And pirates tend to be more direct, more interested in getting you to surrender any valuables without risking damage to either ship. And there hadn't been enough time since we'd jumped in for anyone on the crew to make their way around the outside of the ship from another lock.

Looking back, there was about a hundred things I should have done: informed chief engineer, or the duty officer, or at least someone a little more experienced. But I was still very much a wet-behind-the-ears nugget on their first trip out-system, ears still ringing from all the lessons I'd been given during my apprenticeship back home. And one of the first things they teach you is that, unless there is a clear and direct danger to ship or crew, you never leave someone outside. Especially if you have no idea as to the condition of their suit or how much power or oxygen they have left. Far better to have them inside an airlock and answering questions than outside and choking to death.

Making sure that the inner lock was not only secure, but deadlocked, I decompressed the chamber and cycled the outer door.

The suit was odd. And, I mean, really odd: it was the colour of old canvas and covered in brass fittings that I couldn't identify even to this day. The helmet was also unusual, almost anachronistic, looking like it should have been adorning some fairy-tale Knight rather than a spacer. The visor was a thin strip of wine-red glass that gave it an almost evil look. But they certainly seemed to know what they were doing, judging by the way they swung into the hatch by way of the grab bar, shifting their weight so their feet hit the deck. They bent their knees to absorb as much of the impact as possible while the magnetic plates in their boots activated, holding them in place. They tugged one a line, and a small, airtight duffle followed them through the open hatch.

A gloved hand reached out to pull down the lever that closed the hatch and activated the pumps to restore the air.

The light on the display panel turned from red to green, indicating a stable, breathable atmosphere, but they pulled a chemical test strip from a pouch on their suit to double check. It's an old spacer habit, especially if you don't know the ship or the crew: some unscrupulous people rig the readouts or add something to the air to incapacitate visitors for...a variety of reasons. Evidently our air was up to scratch, and they released the pressure valve on the suit, visibly relaxing as it equalised. Reaching up, they uncoupled the helmet before lifting it off, and that when I got my first good look at her.

Her skin was black. And I mean as black as space, far darker than anyone I've seen before or since, and it was topped by a thin covering of wiry hair the color of spun copper. In contrast, her teeth were a perfect white, complimenting her amber eyes perfectly.

"Merci, mon bon monsieur." she looked at me with a bright smile, her almost mystical voice muffled by the thick door between us, "Vous ne savez pas à quel point je suis heureux de vous avoir trouvé."

"I'm sorry I don't speak..." I blinked, realising that I don't have the faintest clue what langue she was speaking, "Do you speak English? German?"

"I speak English." She nodded, her accent still strong, "You are Lyran, non?"

"Yes." I nodded, "I'm sorry, but, who the ****** are you? And what are you doing outside our ship in an uninhabited system?"

"That may be, how you say, long story?" she chuckled, "Do you mind if I take my suit off? It has been too long."

I nodded, and she started to pull the suit off, revealing a pretty standard looking jumpsuit beneath that wasn't that different from my own, only devoid of any name patch, department or rank insignia or anything else that may have given a clue as to her origins.

"My name is Beatrix Wren, and I am, much like you, a spacer." she unsealed the bag that had been tethered to her suit and pulled out a bottle of, I presumed, water, from which she took a long drink, "As for what I am doing here... I guess you could say I hitched a ride?"

"Where... How... When..." I struggled to find the words.

"One question at a time, s'il vous plaît." she bid me to slow down, "I can answer many, but not necessarily all, of your questions, in time. I only ask that you try to keep an open mind."

"Okay." I nodded slowly, "Let's start with how you got here?"

"The truth is that I am not exactly sure just where here even is." she shrugged, taking another drink of water, "I was... elsewhere, before I stumbled upon your ship. And I must thank you again for letting me inside: I do not think my suit could have held out until the next jump."

"I can't help but notice that you didn't actually answer my question."

"This is true." Beatrix nodded, "Perhaps I would be more open if you would tell me your name? I am, after all, sitting in an airlock that you could open the outer hatch of without warning, and my suit is floating around the room in pieces right now. I think it is safe to say that you have the upper hand."

"Billy. My name is Billy Olson."

"So then, Sweet William, do you know what hull surfing is?"

"Yeah, it's something crazy people do: you go EVA during a jump. If you're lucky, you experience a riot of colours and sounds, because the human mind simply isn't equipped to process the experience, then arrive at your destination. If you're Unlucky, you misjudge the KF field boundary and your atoms get spread across thirty light-years of space."

"And if you have Transit Disorientation Syndrome?"

"If you have TDS and you try and hull surf, you run the risk of suffering a psychotic episode. Some claim they see visions of past lives or..."

"Or what?"

"They hear the Choir."

"Yes, the Choir."

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"Mon Dieu, you have heard them!"

"What?" I protested, perhaps too forcefully, "No!"

"You have TDS, and you hear them, even from inside a ship?" Beatrix moved over to the inner door, pressing her face up against the small porthole to get a better look, "I hear them too, but only from outside. Please, Billy, listen to me: you can never tell anyone, understand? There are people, bad people, who look for those who can hear the Choir, hunt them. I do not know why, only that my father could hear them, and that is why they came for my family when I was just a child."

"Why?" I took a step back, confused, "Why would anyone want to find people with TDS?"

"Again, I do not know for sure, but once, I hear two of them talking: they think that we are gifted, that there is something special about us..." her expression changed, becoming downcast, "I think perhaps they are right."

"Gifted?" I laughed at the very notion, "Not the word I would use."

"If you hear the Choir, then you can see the pattern. If you can see the pattern, you can navigate them, calculate jumps that nobody else can, putting ships in places nobody expects. That is an ability people will do anything to control. But, if you listen to the Choir, not just hear it, if you can learn their song... then you can do something remarkable."

"What?" I asked, my mouth suddenly dryer than I'd ever felt it in my shirt life.

"Hyperspace isn't just... nothingness. It's a whole other reality, one we were never suppose to explore. Our universe casts shadows upon it: that's why you can't jump near a gravity well, unless you can pinpoint a null zone, where the local bodies cancel each other out."

"Like a pirate point?"

"Pirate point? Yes, I suppose that that is a good a name as any. But, you see, there's a structure to hyperspace...not exactly stars or planets, but there are places where you can become stuck. Somebody found one of these places, and then they found a way to deliberately stop half way through a jump, staying inside hyperspace."

"That's impossible!" I gasped.

"Impossible, you say?" Beatrix shook her head, "Non, not impossible, Sweet William. I have spent the last ten years of my life, held prisoner in such a place. It was only by chance that I was outside, repairing something, they did not tell me what, when I saw the pattern change. I saw this ship passing through, and I jumped. I had no idea what was going to happen, but anything was better than staying there."

"Even if I believed you, which is asking a lot, what now?"

"I run. They will be looking for me, even if just to confirm I died, so I run." she seemed resigned to the fact, "When this ship jumps next, I will surf the hull, listening to the Choir, looking for another shift in the pattern. If I am lucky, I will find another ship, then another and another. I will keep going until I find a place that has never heard of the Terran Hegemony, has never seen the Cameron Star, and then, maybe, I will stop." she looked at me, a strange half smile on her lips, "Or, who knows? Maybe I will just drift off into the void."

To this day, I don't know if she was crazy or telling the truth, but I kept her secret from the rest of the crew. I let her sleep in an empty store room, smuggled her what food, water and other supplies I had. Then, before our next jump, I helped her back into her suit and said goodbye.

I still think of her, every time I hear the Choir, and I wonder if she's still out there, somewhere, looking for patterns in the chaos.

The End
« Last Edit: 04 June 2020, 18:56:29 by JA Baker »
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

Requested: One Mark V ECM unit, 1,000 meters of Fullerene cable, one low-yield nuclear warhead.
Purpose: Surprise party for foreign dignitary.
AFFS Special Operations requisition form

Daryk

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #201 on: 04 June 2020, 17:52:35 »
That one seems era agnostic... much appreciated!  :thumbsup:

JA Baker

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #202 on: 04 June 2020, 18:34:46 »
That one seems era agnostic... much appreciated!  :thumbsup:
It was going to be set during the Succession Wars, with ComStar as the "bad guys", then later with the Word of Blake, but in the end, I decided to make the Star League the villain of the piece, all be in vaguely
"That's the thing about invading the Capellan Confederation: half a decade later, you want to invade it again"
-Attributed to First-Prince Hanse Davion, 3030

Requested: One Mark V ECM unit, 1,000 meters of Fullerene cable, one low-yield nuclear warhead.
Purpose: Surprise party for foreign dignitary.
AFFS Special Operations requisition form

Artifex

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #203 on: 04 June 2020, 19:07:41 »
Nice stuff that last one, could even happen in the 32nd Century... :D

qc mech3

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #204 on: 04 June 2020, 22:37:21 »
Just change ''heureux'' for ''heureuse'' and your french will be perfect.

A really good story there and it goes with something from Interstellar Players 2 also.  :thumbsup: :thumbsup:

PsihoKekec

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #205 on: 05 June 2020, 02:52:57 »
Am I the only one who thought of hull surfing as the next big thing for andrealin junkies of BTverse?
Shoot first, laugh later.

Daryk

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #206 on: 05 June 2020, 04:14:28 »
That and/or Personal Re-entry Units (PRUs) from StratOps…  ^-^

Cannonshop

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Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #207 on: 05 June 2020, 12:01:47 »
In the Ngoverse of "The Administrator" it IS an adrenaline junkie activity in some subcultures.  (In particular, Belter, Rockjack, some Bandit Caste, and Stateless Spacers ('The Folk').)  it's also a bit of a ritual and rite of passage among those subcultures.
The core rules for interacting with me:

1.) I am not a moderator, game developer, member of Cryptic staff, relative of any members of cryptic staff, not close friends with anyone involved with the game, not a distributor of product, not an employee, employer, professional reviewer, or member of any powerful conspiracies.  What I think is my own and has no impact on the Battletech franchise in any way, shape, or form.

2) If you don't like something I've said, refer to rule 1.  If you do, god help you poor soul, you're screwed up.

PsihoKekec

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  • Your spleen, give it to me!
Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #208 on: 05 June 2020, 12:43:17 »
So it's all good fun, until the wrong people hear you say: ''The Choir sings to us.''
Shoot first, laugh later.

SulliMike23

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  • The Brotherhood will expand in the Inner Sphere!
Re: Who Goes There?
« Reply #209 on: 05 June 2020, 14:50:23 »
She almost sounds like the Pilgrims from Wing Commander.

 

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