Port Malibu, Paradisia
Mizar, Prefecture VIII
Republic of the Sphere
30 April 3133
“You know,†Nero Nowen began as he lay back on the soft, comfortably warm bed, “we need to take over more resort hotels. A guy could get used to this much luxury.†Naked save for the bedsheets, he was clearly content in his situation.
“Didn’t you used to be in a band?†A voice came from the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you be used to this sort of accommodation?â€
“Dude, it was a Neo-Reconstructionalist Metal band, remember? The hotel room would be trashed and full of cheap whores and barnyard animals by now. It comes with the genre.†He shot back, almost mockingly. "Death to the Reverse Side was all about that distinct look and image, to rebuild what was before by emulating all of its traits, no matter what they were."
“Cheap whores and barnyard animals?†The voice shot back, its tone dropping as it did. “Should I be jealous?â€
He laughed. “All that’s behind me, remember? It’s just you now, promise.†The truth was that he did miss being in the band; Death to the Reverse Side had been popular and successful, and certainly he had enjoyed all that had come with that success. On the other hand, he was enjoying other benefits of his new life just as much has he had those in his old.
“Sure.†Came an almost gravely mutter.
“What I mean to say is that I like is the chance to actually relax and be comfortable and stuff. And since we’ve spent the last week or so here waiting for the next stage of the op to begin, it’s good to take in a little bit of relaxation and unwind without having to share a room with a bunch of filthy dopeheads.â€
“Instead you’re sharing it with your fellow members of the Band.†The voice reminded.
“One of them I don’t mind sharing it with.†He replied with a broad grin on his face.
TF Allen strode out of the bathroom, clad as always in his black MechWarrior combat suit, no hint of expression behind the blank visor. “I will give you that much.†He simply stated, almost impassively.
Nowen shook his head, sizing up the suited figure. The simple blackness of their suit was shockingly stark against the softer colours of the hotel room. “True the rest of our comrades-in-arms-are a bunch of depraved, mass-murdering serial puppy kickers.†He admitted.
“As opposed to long-haired, tattooed rock stars?†Allen commented as he strode over to the bed.
“Hey, at least some of us have class.†He replied with a grin. “Speaking of which, I thought that you of all people would be taking advantage of this downtime to get out in your skin.â€
“I look just as distinctive without this suit as I do with it.†He stated, an almost angry tone in his voice.
“Yes, but it is a different distinctive.†Nowen countered. “And people have no reason to connect the two.â€
“Still, I’d rather not let anyone see me for the moment. The Band is still new; I want it to stabilise before I take that risk. You of all people should know that."
“You let me see it.†Nero offered.
“That’s different.†Allen replied with just a hint of defensive defiance. “Besides, you’d do me even if you didn’t know what I looked like under the suit. You almost did.â€
“I’d do you in that suit if it wasn’t armoured and had cooling systems and all that.†He replied with a grin. “But that was very uncomfortable and inconvenient when we tried.â€
Allen gave a small snort that could almost pass for a laugh. “Besides, I want to find out what’s going on with Tshuma, something you should be doing too.†He was blatantly changing the subject, and not bothering to hide it.
“Instead of lying around in bed?†He playfully offered, not trying to hide it. “You never complained about me in bed before.â€
Allen jabbed his chest with a gloved finger. “Not when there is work to be done.â€
“You’re no fun anymore, you know that?†Nero finished with a sigh. “Ah well, work needs doing, I suppose.†He smiled. “But it would be nice to see you outside without that on, some day.â€
As always, Allen’s mask was impassive. “So you don’t love me for just the suit?â€
He laughed. “I don’t know, it could be fun, I could have an affair with you behind your own back.â€
“Whatever. Just find out what we need, okay?†He turned to leave. “I intend to be the top dog of this pile, Nero. We’re going to make this little band of criminals work for us.â€
-----
For Juanita, getting into Port Malibu had been surprisingly easy. She’d driven overnight cross-country, using the information Antonin had gathered from the Militia to find an easy ford. The Toad had handled beautifully, easting up the countryside with ease. If she got nothing else from the ride, she’d have a great ride for future use.
She’d used the pre-dawn darkness to slip into Port Malibu proper, evading the few foot patrols she’d seen so far. The Band of Five seemed to be confident in their control of the town and surprisingly lax in protecting it against intruders. She didn’t blame them; what she’d seen of the Militia, combined with Antonin’s reports, depicted a force that was short on manpower, skill, morale and direction and unwilling to go anywhere near the town and run the risk of a second ambush and massacre.
She personally suspected that there would be more security around their dropships and the hotel they were using as their command centre. Otherwise, they didn’t need to protect the town. The Militia had effectively hobbled themselves, unwilling and unable to mount an attack. She was beginning to see why they had chosen this world to attack, which also raised further, worrying questions. Whoever was behind the Band of Five clearly had a good idea of what they could expect on Mizar, which suggested a well-informed, well-connected source.
However, that was not hers to worry about. She had other, more pressing concerns right now.
Once she was sure that she hadn’t been spotted, she’d stashed the Toad and most of her gear in an abandoned store. It had been childishly easy to pick the lock on the door, and then just as easy to secure it again. Judging from the build-up of dust inside, she figured that nobody had been inside the building in a few months, which was perfect for her. Of course, once she’d secured the site, she’d made sure to leave behind enough subtle indicators that, if disturbed, would warn her that someone had found her stash.
With that out of the way, she’d begun the second stage of her operation. Blending in to the local population was easy enough, especially with the ‘inconspicuous innocent bystander’ act that she’d perfected over the years of her trade. She simply acted casual and didn’t let anything bother her, like giant war machines roaming the street was the most natural and mundane thing in the world.
That had almost fallen apart when she’d found the Grand Swann, the building that was serving as the headquarters of the invasion force. While she’d been briefed on what was known of their composition, she still found the impact of seeing it in person to be overwhelming.
Standing in front of the hotel were a half-dozen BattleMechs, titanic metal avatars of war that seemed to dominate all around them. The six humanoid machines radiated power, as if intimidating all else by their sheer physical presence alone. Six BattleMechs, she thought to herself as she looked up at them. Six. It was an unimaginable level of wealth and power gathered in one place, especially for the fortunate few who were able to command the massive machines.
Six, she told herself again. In one moment, she’d quadrupled the number of Battlemechs she’d seen in her whole life. While there had been such machines amongst the Militia forces, she’d been avoiding them on Antonin’s orders. She now wished she had seen them, if only so she wouldn’t be so awed now.
She had no idea how long she was standing there before she finally remembered herself. Blinking, she instead looked over the mechs with a more focused eye, paying attention to the information that Antonin had given her. As a part of her training, he’d taught her to remember BattleMech designs and recognise them in the field. Looking over the machines now, she began to put names to designs. Zeus, Black Knight, Crusader, Centurion, Fenris, Stinger. A powerful array of machines, each capable enough in its own right, but together representing more power then she could imagine. The modified Copper and Dig Lord with them seemed to be almost irrelevant by comparison.
Looking around, she could see more military hardware on display; a Carnivore tank, a Thumper Artillery Vehicle, a massive JES II Missile Carrier and many other designs. A wider inspection showed even more vehicles, primarily support units like ammo carriers, coolant trucks and tankers. They have a pretty impressive display here, she noted. Wonder if they’re deliberately showing off, letting us see what they have so we know we don’t have a chance against them? It’d make sense, given what we’ve seen so far. After assassinations and ambushes, intimidation also works.
She carefully made her way around the perimeter of the hotel district, taking as good a look at the assembled forces as possible. While still no expert, as near as she could tell, the assembled mechs were in fully operable condition with no damage in evidence. No such luck there. Whoever’s behind this bunch clearly can keep them supplied and in running condition. Which means that they have plenty of money, resources and, possibly reserves. I’m beginning to think that this Band of Five is just the tip of the iceberg.
The insignia of a bloodied black hand on a red field was prominent on their mechs, the same symbol she’d seen tattooed on the Crosscut pilot she’d ejected back on Imbross. So that’s their insignia then, she thought to herself, making a note of it. The machines otherwise were painted in a mixture of tan and a medium blue, with seemingly regular if even distribution of the shared colours. Don’t recognise the scheme though. Might be useful to remember. Several other details were in evidence, the inevitable customisation that MechWarriors would engage in, but nothing stood out or served as a uniform identifier.
Despite the openness with which the Band were displaying their equipment, they still had barricaded off the hotel and its immediate surroundings, and there were still soldiers on patrol. She knew that there was only so far she could go and only so much she could do out here on the ground. Time for phase two of this little recon operation.
Figuring that she had all that she could get, Juanita headed around the back of the hotel, making sure that she was not followed in the process. Slipping into an alley, she could see the back end of the hotel, a scene far less prestigious and appealing then its front half. A large loading dock and several service entrances fronted onto an alleyway, half-clogged with dumpsters and garbage bags. She could see several soldiers hanging around at either end, casually glancing around but looking almost bored with their posting. The other thing that caught her eye were several members of the hotel staff on a clear cigarette break.
If I was playing host to a bunch of murderous thugs with military hardware, I’d take up smoking too. Casually strolling away, she began looking around for an opening. An idea was forming, one that would fix all her problems.
-----
While the Band of Five’s members were largely criminals, not all of them were killers by trade or nature. Their ranks included many who had other reasons to evade the law and their own desires or vices to fulfil, reasons enough to be drawn to the organisation’s ranks. Barry Mangonel was one such man, one who stood out even amongst the Band’s ranks. It was a fact that he found amusing, causing him to laugh to himself as he strode through the hallways of the Grand Swann Hotel.
Before the HPG blackout, Mangonel had been the opposite of many of the Band’s erstwhile members. Rather than a simple criminal, he had instead been a police officer, one obstinately dedicated to upholding the law. Of course, in his case, the line between criminal and authority had been more than a little blurred. Mangonel had been something of a friend and ally to the criminal classes, one who had been glad to not only turn a blind eye to what they did, but to actively assist them in their various enterprises. In return, they had made his life rather comfortable, well above what he could afford on his salary.
When things had turned against him, he’d skipped town before he could be called to account. For him, the HPG blackout had been a pleasant coincidence that had only aided his flight. As a result, he’d managed to not only to escape the consequences of his actions, but his past experience and not inconsiderable financial reserves had managed to find him a place in a new organisation, the Band of Five.
Of course, his being a former police officer, even a corrupt one, had not sat well with many of his erstwhile colleagues. There were many that didn’t dislike him simply for being who he was, and many that he knew would happily leave him dead in a ditch if they had the chance. His naturally abrasive personality; rude, pushy, demanding and with a want of flaunting his position and telling someone to their face when he didn’t like them didn’t help any.
Instead, he’d cleverly built up a network of information on his fellows, material that could be used to keep them from simply dealing with him. He knew their secrets, their failings and their weaknesses, and he knew how to use them. He found it quite fun to watch people squirm around him, to make them fear and respect him when he knew that they wanted gut him. That there were those higher up the food chain in the Band that supported him made it even better. He liked the idea; after all, the best way to run an organisation full of criminals was to ensure that they feared you.
He carried himself with an air of confidence that belied his appearance. Middle aged, overweight and balding, his face dominated by a thick moustache and a nearly permanently sweaty brow. However, more obvious was the way he flaunted his nature; he strode around dressed in a police uniform, making no effort at all to blend in the others and instead stick out like a sore thumb. Respect and fear, that’s what it’s all about.
The downtime in the Grand Swann had been good for him, allowing him to indulge himself. Plentiful food and drink, a little bit of recreational ganging and all the prostitutes he could want (many of whom were desperate for any form of income, which made his use of them all the more enjoyable) covered most of his immediate vices. Furthermore, his fellows were becoming sloppy, making mistakes and letting their weaknesses show or simply failing to figure how much a desperate whore would tell a man.
He was wandering around the backrooms of the casino, looking for something new to amuse him. His grasp on his comrades was far from complete, and he was always searching for something new that he could use. These strolls had already yielded results; he’d managed to “convince†the hotel staff that he should get full access to the hotel and all its facilities, now represented in the access cards and security codes he carried with him.
However, he still wanted more. There were two glaring holes in his files that he wanted filled; his overall leader, Bob Swayer, and his right hand man, TF Allen. To him, Sawyer was a risk; the man was clearly driven to the point of insanity, but didn’t seem to have any weaknesses beyond his simple loathing of all humanity. It wasn’t something that he could immediately use.
Allen, of course, was an enigma. He hated enigmas. He would have given anything to take a look under that helmet, to see what was there. Once he had that, the man would be his.
Looking out for the masked man, he strolled up to the balcony, overlooking the casino floor, to get a better idea of what was going on. As he reached the upper floor, something caught his eye, a lone figure who was also watching the casino floor. An idea began to form in his mind, one that produced a pleased grin as he got closer to his target. It was clearly one of the staff, a maid from the looks of her uniform.
Not bad looking either, he thought with almost hungry delight as he approached her. She was young, with long black hair tied off into a scruffy ponytail. Looks like a bit of Cappie or Drac in her. Whatever. I don’t care. He instead planted a meaty hand on her shoulder. “Scuse me, miss.†He began, using the same demanding tone he’d been using since his first days on the street. “But you’re not supposed to be hereâ€
She turned around, fear evident in her blue eyes as she eyed him up. “I’m sorry!†She squeaked out, clearly more than a little scared at being discovered, and probably inwardly even more terrified at what may happen. “I didn’t mean to spy. I was just watching.â€
Barry nodded slowly. “Well that as maybe, ma’am, but rules are rules. You’re intruding on restricted property, and, well, I’m gonna have to do something about that.â€
The maid shook her head, several stray hairs falling across her face. “Surely you can let it go, sir. I didn’t mean any harm by that. Maybe we can just work this all out, okay?â€
Which was just what he wanted. Fingering his belt buckle, he glanced towards a restroom door further down the hallway. “Well then, miss, if you’ll come with me, we can work it all out.†To emphasise the point, he tightened his grip on her, turning her towards the room. The pair of them walked towards the room, Barry doing nothing to hide the broad grin on his face. This was what he lived for, what he loved. The power, the control, bossing people around and making them do what he wanted.
He let her in first, turning only to make sure that the door was firmly locked. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted while he was busy. “So now, let’s-“
Barry’s introduction was cut off as she bought her knee up, hard and fast, into his crotch. His body exploded with pain, a loud whumph of exiting air the only response he could offer. As he doubled over, a second heavy blow came to his back, followed by a sharp knee to the face that bought stars to his eyes. Before he could respond any further, he felt a hand on the back of his neck, then a second.
“Whurg?†He slurred as his vision cleared, only to see the tiled wall of the washroom rushing towards him. A bone-jarring crunch of impact was the last sensation he felt, then darkness.
-----
“I hate cops†Juanita muttered as she stood over the unconscious form of the fallen officer. “Don’t even think you’re a real cop, buddy. Just some loser with delusions of grandeur. Still don’t like you anyway.â€
A few minutes later, she left the washroom, making sure to close the door, lock it and wedge it shut as best she could from the outside. Her original plan had been to sneak into the hotel in disguise, then use it as an opportunity to sneak a better look at the forces on site and set up some surveillance. She’d figured that her disguise would allow her to dissuade most hints of suspicion that may fall on her if someone saw her moving around.
Instead the so-called cop had been a bonanza for her. While she’d walked off with his wallet which provided a little bit of cash, what was the real bonus were the security cards he’d been carrying on him. The fake cop had managed to, one way or another, get his hands on security cards for all areas of the hotel, even the ones that were only accessible to the highest echelons of the staff. Furthermore, he’d conveniently made notes as to what was what, probably to remind himself where he could go and how he could get in there.
The guy was resourceful, that was obvious. Didn’t mean she had to like him any. She would, however, thank him for giving her the passes. He deserved that much. Moving quietly through the hotel, Juanita headed upwards, taking to a largely deserted middle floor of the hotel. Pausing for a moment to orientate herself, she picked a room from the row and then stepped inside. Placing the all important “do not disturb†sign on the door, she locked it from within.
Despite its plush appointments, her interest did not lie with the room or its contents. Rather, it lay directly in the view it offered. Walking over there, she opened the curtains, looking down at what was below. Even from this height, the Battlemechs of the Band of Five’s force looked imposingly large, even if they were well below her.
Pulling out a micro-camcorder that she’d hidden under her skirt, she began surveying the site, taking in both the assembled array of military hardware and the layout of the area around the hotel. More particularly, her eyes fell on the half-dozen Battlemechs positioned around it. Scanning over them with the camera, she began recording footage while she observed them.
On the surface they all wore the same tan and blue colour scheme, and all sported the same insignia of a black handprint on a red field. However, looking over them also revealed subtle differences, identifying marks that could be used to pick them out. A buxom woman painted on the Centurion, tribal patterns on the Crusader’s forearms, flames along the Black Knight’s limbs. Mentally she began to think back over the soldiers she’d seen in the Casino, wondering if she could connect men to Mechs.
It’d be ironic if that cop was one of their Mechwarriors, she thought to herself. But then he’d probably have a heart attack trying to climb into a mech. Scanning over the assembled forces, she noted a Copper SecurityMech amongst them, a police badge painted on its shoulder despite it wearing the Band of Five’s colours. You have to be frelling well kidding me. He is one of them! That fatarse gets a mech and I don’t? Life is not fair at all.
On the other hand, this means I just incapacitated one of their Mechwarriors without trying. That bought a smile to her face.
Settling the camera down on the table, she pulled out her personal communicator, connecting the two with an adaptor cord. Keying in a contact address, she began transmitting all that she had recorded. “Hey Ponytail, it’s me†She started as it confirmed that the data link was active and secure. “I’ve gotten in, gotten a good look at their forces and their layout, and managed to snag a little bonus along the way.â€
Glancing down at the mechs again, she smirked. “In fact, I’m getting an idea. Just let me know when you want me to go, and I’ll handle everything.â€
-----
Nero had spent a pleasant enough morning cruising the casino floor, just watching his fellow soldiers in action. In spite of their occupation, the place still seemed to have a holiday air of sorts, with the Band’s soldiers laughing, relaxing and enjoying themselves. Of course, anyone could see that there was more to it then just that; scratch the surface and the situation became a lot grimmer.
The staff still smiled and were pleasant enough to their guests, but the pleasant faces were forced, and fear was hidden right behind their welcome nature. He doubted that any of them had any illusions as to what was going on, and that their lives were only safe for as long as the Band’s members remained entertained. So far, there had been enough ‘incidents’ to remind them of that fact. Anyone of them who stepped out of line, who broke hotel rules, well... they were going to get away with it, unpunished. And Nero didn’t mind at all.
He was more interested today in finding out more about those around him. He and Allen had a plan, and he wanted as much as possible for it. Nero was far from content with simply being a Mechwarrior; while it was a position of power that many only dreamt of, it simply wasn’t enough for him. The Band of Five had suited his ambitions, but it wasn’t enough for him to be one of its members. He wanted to lead them, to use them to carve out his own little chunk of security. And with the Republic seemingly collapsing, he figured it was the best plan.
Maybe I should name a planet after myself. He idly thought, smirking at the idea. Naw, I’m not that pompous. Still, my own planet wouldn’t be a bad idea... For now, however he had but a single ally. And while he knew he could trust them implicitly, he needed more.
Glancing around, he examined the soldiers near him. Kirstin Ross caught his eye for a moment, the tank commander glancing over the room with a look of obvious disdain on her face. She was known for being stern and humourless, and probably didn’t like the whole ‘carnival’ atmosphere that had settled over her men. Unfortunately, that didn’t help him any; while it would be useful to have her in his pocket, she hadn’t given him an avenue of attack as yet.
Moving on, he looked around for other sights, other people that may catch his eye. There was an infantryman, already face down on the bar, drunk into unconsciousness before noon. A more distinctive figure sat next to him; a girl, seemingly no older then sixteen. Dressed in an elaborate frilled petticoat and holding an opened parasol, even indoors, she was starkly out of place. That Nero knew that she was one of Kirstin’s tankers only made her seem more odd.
Gotta figure out Carlotta’s secret. He thought as he glanced at her before moving back towards the stairs. Maybe she just smokes a lot and they stunt her growth. Heading up to the balcony, he figured he could get a better view of the area below, along with a better shot at finding someone trying not to be seen doing something they didn’t want him to know about. But first, a light break.
What he found was that someone had wedged the washroom door shut in addition to locking it. That in and of itself was enough to grab his interest; if someone had gone to that great a length, they wanted to keep people out of there. Someone or something was hiding inside, and he wanted to know what it was. Making sure that there was nobody else around, he began to discreetly go to work. After all he’d broken into in past, a locked loo was nothing.
A minute or two later, he was in. Discretely shutting the door behind him, he took a look around the room for what was hiding. At first it seemed empty; nothing but an almost staggering expanse of local marble, probably worth more than the yearly wage of some of the employees. However, the secret to a bathroom like this was always in the stalls. A quick glance at the expensive wood-panelled booths told him that one of them was, indeed, occupied.
No sense in messing about. He opened the door, ready for anything. Even then, he was moderately surprised. “Well, well.†Nero began with a confident smirk. “Officer Mangonel. One of my least favourite people. I’d love to know how you ended up here.â€
Mangonel’s only reply was a series of desperate grunts coming from his gagged mouth. Somebody had done a real number on him; the man was obviously bruised and had one swollen eye, the other wide open in fear. His situation didn’t do him any favours; He was kneeling down over the toilet, his hands had been cuffed to the toilet, while his tie had been wrapped around the seat. His pants had also been pulled down, his belt used to bind his feet. Mercifully, whoever had done this had left his underwear on, although they’d stuffed his socks in his mouth.
“You know, this is just incredible.†Nero continued as he looked down at the helpless former policeman. “Someone did a real number on you, Officer. I’d love to know who you pissed off this much, but I have other concerns right now.†He gave a friendly smile, which only resulted in even more panicked grunting from Mangonel.
“Thing is, officer, I know that nobody here likes you. And I know that you have to be doing something in order to keep yourself alive; you have some insurance, some way of making sure that nobody decides to just put you out of their misery right now. So here’s the deal, officer.†He squatted down next to him.
“You’re going to tell me what that is. And then you’re going to make sure that I get it. Whatever advantage it is you have, I want it myself. You give me that and I’ll let you free and help you discretely clean yourself up, pass on some pile of crap story that you got drunk while groping waitresses and ended up getting slapped for your trouble.â€
“Or, if you refuse, I let it get out that you’re in here, tied up and helpless. I know that there will be plenty of people who will want to pay you a visit, let you know exactly what they think of you. I can imagine that a few might find an inappropriate use for your nightstick, for example.†He smiled a disarmingly friendly smile. “Of course, I also came in here to relive myself, so...â€
Barry’s eyes went wide with fear, his grunting coming faster now.
“So do we have a deal?†Nero asked, quirking his brow. “I mean. I’d rather get your secrets, but watching people form a queue to do unspeakable things to you would be a fair consolation.†Mangonel simply nodded slowly.
“Excellent†Nero finished as he stood. “Officer Mangonel, I am always happy to help the police in any way I can.†And this find will help us so much more.
-----
“Well, mister Slawksi?†Junko Suzuhara asked as the mercenary MechWarrior entered his office. “What do you have for me?â€
Andrzej Slawski smiled as he adjusted his sunglasses. “Major Suzuhara, my men have come through and delivered us a nice little gift.†He placed a noteputer down on the table in front of her, hitting a few buttons. “This is footage of the enemy force, shot only a few minutes ago.†The screen bought up an image of a quartet of BattleMechs; the shot was a little shaky, but made it clear what they were looking at.
“I’m impressed.†She nodded. “And there’s more?â€
“Pretty much.†Slawski continued. “They got a pretty complete look at the enemy forces, both in terms of size and deployment, as well as a good summary of their patrol forces. While our enemy is clearly well dug-in, they also seem to have become rather lax over the last couple of weeks. No offence, but they probably think they have your men intimidated.â€
“None taken. I won’t argue with you on that point. Until you showed up, we really had nothing we could use against them.†She conceded. “All this is much better then what we could manage.â€
“If you could get me a map of the town, I think we could easily plot out their positions from this footage.†He offered. “It will help us figure out what to do next.â€
She glanced up at him. “Something on your mind, Mister Slawski?â€
He nodded in reply, his face opening into a broad grin. “I have an idea on how we can tip the odds well in our favour. I will, however, need your trust and, obviously, your forcesâ€
“Mister Slawski,†Junko commented, a note of optimism in her weary voice. “If you can get these monsters off my planet, I’ll give you whatever you want.â€