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On one of the few areas of flat terrain outside the Dropport, Jehan surveyed the preparations.
All three mobile sauna units - insulated trailers with benches and heating units, essentially - had been deployed in a loose arc surrounding the pit the Elementals had prepared.
They had begun with cratering charges, then cleared out the rubble, and finally smoothed the bottom through the judicious application of pulse lasers. Coolant trucks were already filling it with water to create a shallow pool.
On the top of the central sauna, a projector had been set up, directed at the smoothest section of the Dropport baffles, and the evening's entertainment loaded and queued. While they would not be getting through the entire series - the first run alone had something like two hundred and fifty episodes, each of them about an hour long - it was a rare Clanner who would object to watching 'Tails of Strana Mechty' and none of the First Helios had ever seen it.
He was looking forward to Isidora's reaction to Astrid's character.
On either side of the nascent pool, packing crates had been set up as makeshift tables, and more cratering charges had been used to create barbecue pits. Most of them simply hosted grills of whatever meat could be requisitioned from the supplies they had brought with, but some of his Warriors had tried their luck in the hills, and there were a few examples of the local game roasting.
The weather was giving cool but clear, and having cleared his schedule for the day, he settled his back against a step and watched as tanker after tanker delivered there loads of water, waiting for evening and the start of festivities.
"Battle Armor. No thank you. I prefer speed, mobility, and armor in a fight. I have quite learned my lesson about being outside of a cockpit in a combat area. I shall stay in my 'Mech and let the experts go rooting around indoors and in dark tunnels."
She remembered the imposing sight of the Blakist armor; the feel of armored fingers around her neck. "If another warehouse needs to be cleared by me then I will simply blow it up."
"Aff. I'm not afraid of a fight, but I prefer to be behind the controls of my Mad Dog as well."
Rauda rubbed their stump absentmindedly, half paying attention to both the conversation and the show. It was hot in the sauna (obviously), and they took a deep swig of their drink, trying to properly relax. They felt like they were drinking quick but, well, they doubted anyone gathered would be too put out if they left the sauna less than sober, so long as they did not make too much of a fool of themselves.
"I am sure you could take some... appealing shots in an elemental," they argued absentmindedly. "From what I remember of the arcade game... fans, many people are interested in busty women with helmets on, neg?" They shrugged. "Something about the anonymity? It is not what I look for in a pin-up."
"The racks of ribs seemed particularly appealing. I will have an entire one of those, Jehan, if you please," Astrid says.
She settles back, shifting her posture slightly to watch the show, chuckling at the ongoing conversation.
"I believe the appeal of the fully-armored soldier, is somewhat down to the air of mystery, in that anything one could imagine could be under the armor. And often, that imagined occupant will often be more appealing to anyone given to such fantasies. Luckily, at least for Elementals, the real occupants are quite often handsome and/or beautiful, which is why I suspect they have become the most depicted form of these armored soldier pin-ups," she chuckles. Then she looks at Isidora, curiousity in her eyes. "Though I imagine on Helios, there may be a market for the highly cybernetically augmented equivalent, quiaff?"
"Well there is no vow of celibacy to be a Hand, the appeal is deliberately less sexual. Unless a Wraith or Poltergeist, traits that are attractive to frails tend to be veered away from within our ranks, though that has changed some in the last few generations. Something that needs to be considered with you clansfolk is that you all tend to be almost supernaturally pretty or handsome, not just the Elementals."
"You would be surprised about the amount of pornography people request of me." Clarissa downs another mouth full of her beer, then quickly corrects. "Not with me as a subject, of course. I meant for me to acquire for them. Elementals and MechWarriors in those little skimpy things the Inner Sphere wears. Dragons having sex with cars is startlingly popular."
She turns her head towards Isidora, "The beauty comes from centuries of selective breeding and genetic engineering. It results in beauty, true, but there is a level of... Perfection in the pristine Trueborn which I always found slightly boring. They take a few scars to really marinate properly into something attractive, I believe."
Rauda paused with a bottle halfway to their mouth.
"Do you mean dragons..." they tapped their cheek absentmindedly, "like the beast? Or the heavy mech? Either way, I am... struggling to picture it." They snorted, the binder, heat and sake combination making the alcohol go to their head. They weren't drunk, far from it; but the mental image seemed far funnier than it had any right to be.
"Which wears the skimpy outfit? The Grand Dragon seems bustier than it's predecessors, quiaff? And with thirteen double heatsinks, it promises to surely handle itself."
As if realising they had been rambling about a scantily-clad mech, Rauda suddenly cleared their throat. "But, I agree. I too find a person with scars more interesting."
Astrid took a sip of her beer, before realizing she was out. Clearly desiring another, she stood up to get one, getting out of the pool, and showing off her own scars in the process.
She soon returned with refills for everyone, and resettled herself into the pool, just as the first 'Mech battle of the Tails series began to take place onscreen — a Trial of Grievance between two minor characters, mostly serving as background for a discussion between Remus' character and Melissa's, establishing their characters' philosophies — and summing up the state of the early 2990s Crusader vs Warden debate in the process.
"What an odd time that was. The Crusaders had yet to fully calcify into their ways, while the Wardens were dealing more with debating the Explorers and the Homeworlders," Astrid mused. "I suppose those last two might be unfamiliar to some of you, given what an old bear I am and the ages long past I have lived in, quineg?"
"I'm not very familiar with Clan politics, not something that was considered important, though I've heard of Wardens and Crusaders. Wardens are... the Lyran wolves, the Nova Cats and the Bears, right?"
Rauda's gaze strayed, briefly, to the famous totem warrior as she got up. It was difficult not to; her body was impressive enough, but the scars - as they'd all been discussing - told a story that couldn't help but catch the eye. Not wanting to stare, Rauda blinked and rubbed their jaw with the back of their knuckles, before accepting the sake that was handed to them.
"Bears are a Warden clan," Rauda confirmed for Isidora. "Mostly. They have their share of Crusaders. I had to learn when I joined the Clan, as well." They gave a small shrug. "It'll be second nature, with time. All of the history, I mean."
Jehan caught the tail end of this conversation as he returned, one of the Elementals helping him carry the serving tray with some sort of whole roast beast on it - it looked vaguely deer-like, but it was hard to be sure.
He weighed in as he and his companion lowered the tray to the ground at the edge of the pool, before the Elemental headed off.
"I always leaned Warden. Naturally my first assignment was a formation that was staunchly Crusader. This may explain my tendency to Trial first, ask questions later."
He slid back into the heated water with an appreciative sigh.
"Of course it might just be that I am naturally predisposed to be a pain in the ass."
"I and my sibkin were always Warden... or well, something even more than Warden, I suppose," Astrid chuckled, as she continued to sip her beer.
"It is interesting to see how those two philosophies evolved. How others were left behind. I wonder how they will change now that the central question has been mostly settled, and we have a new Star League. Or will they die off and new philosophies take their place? We have seen that already with the Dominion, though that debate has largely been settled as well, given the Deniers dismal performance in the civil war..."
There was an air of solemn finality in the hold of the Confederate class dropship, Hannah thought. To an outside observer, one would think the four cadets in a close circle were having a hushed conversation, heads pressed close. In actuality, they were silent.
Hannah, Luo, Cree, and Phillip. The four remaining members of the 3051 sibko made from the genetics of John Lewis and Kris Schmitt. From a hundred, only four. They had been born together, raised in creche together, and for the last ten years, had trained together. The trainers had praised their closeness, calling it emblematic of the Blood Spirit ways. But, they had reminded: not all born of warrior blood were suitable to join the touman. And that was why they had come to this place, this dropship making a brief suborbital jaunt across their besieged home. To test them.
Luo’s mouth was moving without making noise now, but Hannah recognized the motions and the brief gasps of air from her subvocalizations. Twenty names, those of them who had died. The others spoke of them sadly. To Hannah they were people she had known, some closely, yes, but their deaths didn’t weigh on her like the others. The others wouldn’t cry, wouldn't let the deaths hold them back, not even sensitive Luo, because that was not the way of the Clans, but Hannah was different, and she could feel that difference even with her closest siblings.
Luo had finished, and the four of them link their pinkies in the middle. Something they had done for a long time, a sign of the spirit, the blood, that connected them.
It was Cree who broke the silence.
“We made it this far. Honestly, I think it is a mistake for command to be dropping us into a real battle. Without the restriction of three on one, each of us will walk away as Galaxy Commanders when this day is through, quiaff?”
His boast got a smirk out of Hannah, but she could read the anxiety beneath it. They would not be facing a traditional Trial of Position. There simply were not enough warriors to face them. Instead they would be facing live combat, against the Star Adder invaders.
Phillip nodded. “Aff. Remember trothkin, the Star Adders made one mistake.”
The rest continue the line, a chatterweb meme from a spheroid show about the invasion that had percolated to York, even though none of them had seen it.
Hannah was the first to break the chain. The others pulled away a moment later, but she knew it was her.
She turned and walked away, to her waiting Phoenix Hawk special. There was a brief moment of weightlessness, and an alarm blared briefly. The ship had begun its descent.
The ancient Star League ‘Mech stood silently in its cradle, bearing a matte red and tan scheme from the earliest days of the Clan. Its twin sat next to it, the ride of Luo. Phillip had a Griffin GRF-2N, while Cree’s Lynx waited in the other hangar bay.
A brief scramble up the ladder put her in the cockpit. Despite the machine’s age, the systems in the cockpit showed care. Someone long ago had updated it to Clan standards, and it had been reupholstered and cleaned deeply when it had been recommissioned from mothball storage.
The screens came to life with a tap, and the start-up sequence let the soft hum and heat of a well-tuned fusion engine in.
The voice of their trainer came over the radio, and Hannah pulled on her neurohelmet.
“Kite Star! This is your final test! After this, you will either be what you were born to be, or you will not. Live or die, failure is failure. All points! Check in.”
“Excelent, cadets. Once you leave this dropship, you will become adults in the eyes of the Clan. Do not fail your ancestors.”
The lights in the hangar flashed red, and the drop door opened beneath Hannah.
They had trained for the hover-drop maneuver, and she feathered her jump-jets on the brief descent.
Above, the dropship rose again, heading to the orbit that would take it back around to New Tara. The four ‘Mechs had landed in mountain clearing, looking down on a steep descent to the coast and the small port below.
Luo leapt ahead, scouting.
“Five enemy BattleMechs approaching our position! Looks like scouts. Two Locusts, a Horned Owl, backed up by a Battle Cobra and a Pouncer.”
The others gave their affirmative clicks, and prepared to fight. Hannah did the math in her head. They matched the Star in weight, but the Adders brought Clan made machines, while the cadets had old cached equipment. The lights would be the most threatening for now, while the mediums would take longer to get into range, at which point those who had scored kills could retreat. The threat of the mediums would depend on their engagement range.
“What are the configurations on the Omnis?”
“Battle Cobra is a bravo, Pouncer is an echo.”
It would be tough indeed.
The first enemy ‘mechs reached them then, the pair of Locusts. Both were in the standard model made on Circe, and their lasers bit into Luo’s armor as they passed her.
Cree turned to chase them off, beginning a game of cat and mouse, while the Horned Owl leapt to join the fray.
Hannah delivered a shot to it, then turned to keep an eye on the mediums. Luo was moving to deal with the skirmish, when a volley of ATMs from below tore into her back.
“Stravag! Han, give me a hand!”
“Aff.”
Hannah jumper, and put herself between the approaching Star Adders and Luo. The Adders were taking their time up the hill, stumbling in the high gravity. Hannah let them fire at her some, then gave the Battle Cobra a stiff PPC shot to the arm.
In the rear of Hannah’s 360 monitor she watched a Locust go down to a volley of SRMs from Phillip, which made the other one wave off.
“That is one! I will try for two.”
Hannah grimaced as the Battle Cobra stripped armor from her chest with a return volley of PPCs. “Do not get cocky, Phil!”
As if to prove her point, the Pouncer leapt over her, and opened fire into Phil’s Griffin with close-ranged missiles.
Cree finished off the Horned Owl, which had left his Lynx worse for wear.
Hannah and the Battle Cobra traded shots, the Omni trying to use its superior armament to force her back, while she used her mobility to keep dodging. A hit from her laser to its already weakened arm tore it off, and took half its weaponry with it.
It tried to line up another shot, but Hannah’s PPC slammed into its hip, melting armor, and making it trip on the steep hillside. The Battle Cobra tumbled backwards, carving a furrow down the valley.
Her armor diagrams flashed orange, with one breast on red. The rest of the cadets were standing around, watching Phillip duel the Pouncer.
A sigh, from Luo. “The last Locust got away. No kill for me.”
Hannah gestured down to the port facility. “There may be more enemies down there.”
A victorious roar erupted from Phillip as, ‘Mech heavily battered, missing one arm, he fired a stream of artificial lightning into the Pouncer’s head. “Two for me! That makes Star Comman–”
The Griffin stopped in the middle of its victory salute, head missing. The delayed sonic crack of a gauss rifle was like a starting pistol allowing the ‘Mech to collapse to the ground.
Cree limps over. “Stravag! Looks like you may still get that kill, Luo!”
Standing in the crook of a higher range, a Mad Dog looked down at them. By its smaller torsos and large, shoulder mounted guns, it was the charlie configuration: a terrifying sniper.
Cree pivoted, then opened fire with his PPC, only for a second gauss round to strike down from the heavens and pierce his cockpit. The Lynx collapsed, and Luo went to raise her own PPC.
Hanna joined her, letting both of her big guns fire up into the mountains. The Mad Dog ignored the shots tearing up the ground all around it, and its next shot took out Luo’s left leg at the knee. The Phoenix Hawk stumbled, but kept firing.
“Dezgra pigs of Blood Spirit! I am Star Captain Ichabod Linn, of the Star Adders. They say that Blood Spirit warriors are the most skilled, but I can see here that that famous skill has been degraded by the honorable ways of the Star Adder.”
Hannah clenched her jaw. Worse than an Adder. He bore a Burrock bloodname.
Another shot pierced the chest of Luo’s ‘Mech, and it began to fall. The head bloomed outwards with flame, and the ejection sea flew straight up and back, arcing towards Hannah. Ichabod wasted another shot into the dying ‘Mech, having pulled the triggers before it started to collapse, and let Hannah get off another shot.
Her PPC beam went wide, but her shoulder-mounted laser struck true on the Mad Dog’s knee. Satisfied, she ran to where Luo was now climbing out of her ejection seat, and grabbed the failed cadet in her hand. A few more gauss rounds followed her as she ran down the valley, but she managed to bring her hand up to her shoulder, where Luo could board the head-cockpit of her ‘Mech. There were tears in Hannah’s sister’s eyes when she sealed the hatch behind her and pulled down the jumpseat, but Hannah kept her attention on piloting.
She passed the port, defensive turrets lazily swinging around to track her, but one last leap on her jump jets launched her into the water, where she slowly sank to the floor.
The seabed followed the continental shelf here, shallow enough for a ‘Mech to walk, but it was slow going, and Luo’s sobs began to fill the compartment.
Hannah found herself whispering as she walked, repeating one name under her breath.
Luo wiped her tears, and leaned forward. “Han?”
“Ichabod Linn. Luo, I will remember that name. Even if you cannot be a warrior… I will keep you safe. I promise. No Star Adder will ever hurt you.”
~
Fires still raged in New Tara half a week after the Adder bombardment had leveled it. The apartment building in which Luo had lived stood higher than most were now, devastated by fire but no direct hits. The window from which she had looked out on the city from Luo’s apartment, which she had shared with her breeding partner, passed by Hannah’s cockpit. It was nothing but burnt ruin. The charred skeletons inside meant that two more names joined the growing list that had been rolling through Hannah's mind far too frequently recently.
Recollection tickled at the back of Hannah’s mind, and she increased that count to three.
“Hannah to Star Commander. No sign of the missing convoy along 26th street. Moving to sector 9.”
“Aff, Hannah.”
Sensors meant to pick fighters out at a distance now swept for the emergency transmitters of Blood Spirit APCs that had been sent to evacuate one of the surviving bomb shelters. Failing that, they were searching for heartbeats.
Two blocks over, Hannah finds the APCs, each with a single hole punched through. The hole a gauss round would make. A nearby subway entrance showed heartbeats, fast and panicked.
“Star Commander, Hannah here. Convoy located, total vehicle kill. Detecting less than a dozen survivors.”
“Copy, Hannah. Were they crushed by debris?”
“Neg, weapons fire. Someone else is here. I will hunt the hunter, so that the survivors can safely get out.”
“Aff. Good hunting, MechWarrior.”
It was unlikely, but she had to be sure. She had made a promise, and had failed. It would haunt her forever: there can be no surkai to the dead.
She walked through the ruins, taking in the sights that had once been familiar. On her days off, or when seeing administrative staff, she would walk these streets. Ride these trains and buses. Nobody had taught her how alien home looked from the cockpit of a ‘Mech.
She first saw her prey briefly, the back of a ‘Mech disappearing behind smoke.
When she saw it again, it was facing her, down a long causeway.
A Mad Dog C, in Star Adder colors. Zoom picked out the symbols she remembered so well from her battleROM.
The right unit logo, the right numbers, even the name painted under the cockpit window. Ichabod Linn. She did not know why he was here when all other Star Adders had fled the planet, but providence had brought them together again.
Hannah flicked on the open comms.
“Ichabod Linn! Your monstrosity will not continue. I am Mechwarrior Hannah, and this time I will not retreat.”
“Hannah? I do not recognize the name. Tell me, which surat I have spared, are you?”
“In pass 348, my sibko was taking our Trials of Position. You killed all of them but me.”
“Ah, the Phoenix Hawk. That machine suited you better. Let me tell you why I am here, child.”
Hannah could not stand the insult. “No talk!”
“You will want to know. To know the darkness waiting for all in our society. I am here because I was old. Despite my bloodname, despite my rank. Within the year I would be off to the solhama. I know it. This way I go down fighting a horde of enraged Blood Spirits. You lot may be dezgra, but you are fierce.”
“Neg, not a horde. Just one.”
Hannah killed her comms, and dodged to the right while firing her lasers.
Gauss rounds tore up the space where she had been, and her beams struck true, tearing into Ichabod's left arm.
“Tch. You are good, girl. Are you good enough?”
Hannah dodged another volley, and began to charge. Dodging another shot at even closer range in a heavy ‘Mech took skill, and the world protested in creaking steel and structure. Her next shot with her right arm tore into the Mad Dog's hip, and it began to collapse. Her left arm went up, into the cockpit on top of the machine.
The laser emitter went straight through the armored glass, and the black armor came out the other side stained a beautiful red.
Notably, at Luthien, no batchall was issued, so the Kuritans, Kell Hounds, and Dragoons could fight as dirty as they wished. And of course there is the matter of Khan Leroux of the Nova Cats having bid away half his aerospace support, which many would argue doomed the effort from the start.
whether or not cutdown was accurately set, or was bid below, does not affect the honor of the enemy. Nova Cats are not known for their reliable decision-making skills.
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On one of the few areas of flat terrain outside the Dropport, Jehan surveyed the preparations.
All three mobile sauna units - insulated trailers with benches and heating units, essentially - had been deployed in a loose arc surrounding the pit the Elementals had prepared.
They had begun with cratering charges, then cleared out the rubble, and finally smoothed the bottom through the judicious application of pulse lasers. Coolant trucks were already filling it with water to create a shallow pool.
On the top of the central sauna, a projector had been set up, directed at the smoothest section of the Dropport baffles, and the evening's entertainment loaded and queued. While they would not be getting through the entire series - the first run alone had something like two hundred and fifty episodes, each of them about an hour long - it was a rare Clanner who would object to watching 'Tails of Strana Mechty' and none of the First Helios had ever seen it.
He was looking forward to Isidora's reaction to Astrid's character.
On either side of the nascent pool, packing crates had been set up as makeshift tables, and more cratering charges had been used to create barbecue pits. Most of them simply hosted grills of whatever meat could be requisitioned from the supplies they had brought with, but some of his Warriors had tried their luck in the hills, and there were a few examples of the local game roasting.
The weather was giving cool but clear, and having cleared his schedule for the day, he settled his back against a step and watched as tanker after tanker delivered there loads of water, waiting for evening and the start of festivities.
"Battle Armor. No thank you. I prefer speed, mobility, and armor in a fight. I have quite learned my lesson about being outside of a cockpit in a combat area. I shall stay in my 'Mech and let the experts go rooting around indoors and in dark tunnels."
She remembered the imposing sight of the Blakist armor; the feel of armored fingers around her neck. "If another warehouse needs to be cleared by me then I will simply blow it up."
"Aff. I'm not afraid of a fight, but I prefer to be behind the controls of my Mad Dog as well."
Rauda rubbed their stump absentmindedly, half paying attention to both the conversation and the show. It was hot in the sauna (obviously), and they took a deep swig of their drink, trying to properly relax. They felt like they were drinking quick but, well, they doubted anyone gathered would be too put out if they left the sauna less than sober, so long as they did not make too much of a fool of themselves.
"I am sure you could take some... appealing shots in an elemental," they argued absentmindedly. "From what I remember of the arcade game... fans, many people are interested in busty women with helmets on, neg?" They shrugged. "Something about the anonymity? It is not what I look for in a pin-up."
"The racks of ribs seemed particularly appealing. I will have an entire one of those, Jehan, if you please," Astrid says.
She settles back, shifting her posture slightly to watch the show, chuckling at the ongoing conversation.
"I believe the appeal of the fully-armored soldier, is somewhat down to the air of mystery, in that anything one could imagine could be under the armor. And often, that imagined occupant will often be more appealing to anyone given to such fantasies. Luckily, at least for Elementals, the real occupants are quite often handsome and/or beautiful, which is why I suspect they have become the most depicted form of these armored soldier pin-ups," she chuckles. Then she looks at Isidora, curiousity in her eyes. "Though I imagine on Helios, there may be a market for the highly cybernetically augmented equivalent, quiaff?"
"Well there is no vow of celibacy to be a Hand, the appeal is deliberately less sexual. Unless a Wraith or Poltergeist, traits that are attractive to frails tend to be veered away from within our ranks, though that has changed some in the last few generations. Something that needs to be considered with you clansfolk is that you all tend to be almost supernaturally pretty or handsome, not just the Elementals."
"You would be surprised about the amount of pornography people request of me." Clarissa downs another mouth full of her beer, then quickly corrects. "Not with me as a subject, of course. I meant for me to acquire for them. Elementals and MechWarriors in those little skimpy things the Inner Sphere wears. Dragons having sex with cars is startlingly popular."
She turns her head towards Isidora, "The beauty comes from centuries of selective breeding and genetic engineering. It results in beauty, true, but there is a level of... Perfection in the pristine Trueborn which I always found slightly boring. They take a few scars to really marinate properly into something attractive, I believe."
Rauda paused with a bottle halfway to their mouth.
"Do you mean dragons..." they tapped their cheek absentmindedly, "like the beast? Or the heavy mech? Either way, I am... struggling to picture it." They snorted, the binder, heat and sake combination making the alcohol go to their head. They weren't drunk, far from it; but the mental image seemed far funnier than it had any right to be.
"Which wears the skimpy outfit? The Grand Dragon seems bustier than it's predecessors, quiaff? And with thirteen double heatsinks, it promises to surely handle itself."
As if realising they had been rambling about a scantily-clad mech, Rauda suddenly cleared their throat. "But, I agree. I too find a person with scars more interesting."
Astrid took a sip of her beer, before realizing she was out. Clearly desiring another, she stood up to get one, getting out of the pool, and showing off her own scars in the process.
She soon returned with refills for everyone, and resettled herself into the pool, just as the first 'Mech battle of the Tails series began to take place onscreen — a Trial of Grievance between two minor characters, mostly serving as background for a discussion between Remus' character and Melissa's, establishing their characters' philosophies — and summing up the state of the early 2990s Crusader vs Warden debate in the process.
"What an odd time that was. The Crusaders had yet to fully calcify into their ways, while the Wardens were dealing more with debating the Explorers and the Homeworlders," Astrid mused. "I suppose those last two might be unfamiliar to some of you, given what an old bear I am and the ages long past I have lived in, quineg?"
"I'm not very familiar with Clan politics, not something that was considered important, though I've heard of Wardens and Crusaders. Wardens are... the Lyran wolves, the Nova Cats and the Bears, right?"
Folks who know more lore than I do. Are there any examples of an Elemental later becoming a Mechwarrior? I do not know enough about the science whether that is possible or not and am curious.
There are a handful of cases of Elemental phenotypes training to be mechwarriors, but generally in the clan system once you're in a branch, you're in it, although there are cases of warriors choosing to crosstrain individually. Typically, its asserted that they have difficulty with the size of cockpits
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On one of the few areas of flat terrain outside the Dropport, Jehan surveyed the preparations.
All three mobile sauna units - insulated trailers with benches and heating units, essentially - had been deployed in a loose arc surrounding the pit the Elementals had prepared.
They had begun with cratering charges, then cleared out the rubble, and finally smoothed the bottom through the judicious application of pulse lasers. Coolant trucks were already filling it with water to create a shallow pool.
On the top of the central sauna, a projector had been set up, directed at the smoothest section of the Dropport baffles, and the evening's entertainment loaded and queued. While they would not be getting through the entire series - the first run alone had something like two hundred and fifty episodes, each of them about an hour long - it was a rare Clanner who would object to watching 'Tails of Strana Mechty' and none of the First Helios had ever seen it.
He was looking forward to Isidora's reaction to Astrid's character.
On either side of the nascent pool, packing crates had been set up as makeshift tables, and more cratering charges had been used to create barbecue pits. Most of them simply hosted grills of whatever meat could be requisitioned from the supplies they had brought with, but some of his Warriors had tried their luck in the hills, and there were a few examples of the local game roasting.
The weather was giving cool but clear, and having cleared his schedule for the day, he settled his back against a step and watched as tanker after tanker delivered there loads of water, waiting for evening and the start of festivities.
"Battle Armor. No thank you. I prefer speed, mobility, and armor in a fight. I have quite learned my lesson about being outside of a cockpit in a combat area. I shall stay in my 'Mech and let the experts go rooting around indoors and in dark tunnels."
She remembered the imposing sight of the Blakist armor; the feel of armored fingers around her neck. "If another warehouse needs to be cleared by me then I will simply blow it up."
"Aff. I'm not afraid of a fight, but I prefer to be behind the controls of my Mad Dog as well."
Rauda rubbed their stump absentmindedly, half paying attention to both the conversation and the show. It was hot in the sauna (obviously), and they took a deep swig of their drink, trying to properly relax. They felt like they were drinking quick but, well, they doubted anyone gathered would be too put out if they left the sauna less than sober, so long as they did not make too much of a fool of themselves.
"I am sure you could take some... appealing shots in an elemental," they argued absentmindedly. "From what I remember of the arcade game... fans, many people are interested in busty women with helmets on, neg?" They shrugged. "Something about the anonymity? It is not what I look for in a pin-up."
"The racks of ribs seemed particularly appealing. I will have an entire one of those, Jehan, if you please," Astrid says.
She settles back, shifting her posture slightly to watch the show, chuckling at the ongoing conversation.
"I believe the appeal of the fully-armored soldier, is somewhat down to the air of mystery, in that anything one could imagine could be under the armor. And often, that imagined occupant will often be more appealing to anyone given to such fantasies. Luckily, at least for Elementals, the real occupants are quite often handsome and/or beautiful, which is why I suspect they have become the most depicted form of these armored soldier pin-ups," she chuckles. Then she looks at Isidora, curiousity in her eyes. "Though I imagine on Helios, there may be a market for the highly cybernetically augmented equivalent, quiaff?"
"Well there is no vow of celibacy to be a Hand, the appeal is deliberately less sexual. Unless a Wraith or Poltergeist, traits that are attractive to frails tend to be veered away from within our ranks, though that has changed some in the last few generations. Something that needs to be considered with you clansfolk is that you all tend to be almost supernaturally pretty or handsome, not just the Elementals."
On one of the few areas of flat terrain outside the Dropport, Jehan surveyed the preparations.
All three mobile sauna units - insulated trailers with benches and heating units, essentially - had been deployed in a loose arc surrounding the pit the Elementals had prepared.
They had begun with cratering charges, then cleared out the rubble, and finally smoothed the bottom through the judicious application of pulse lasers. Coolant trucks were already filling it with water to create a shallow pool.
On the top of the central sauna, a projector had been set up, directed at the smoothest section of the Dropport baffles, and the evening's entertainment loaded and queued. While they would not be getting through the entire series - the first run alone had something like two hundred and fifty episodes, each of them about an hour long - it was a rare Clanner who would object to watching 'Tails of Strana Mechty' and none of the First Helios had ever seen it.
He was looking forward to Isidora's reaction to Astrid's character.
On either side of the nascent pool, packing crates had been set up as makeshift tables, and more cratering charges had been used to create barbecue pits. Most of them simply hosted grills of whatever meat could be requisitioned from the supplies they had brought with, but some of his Warriors had tried their luck in the hills, and there were a few examples of the local game roasting.
The weather was giving cool but clear, and having cleared his schedule for the day, he settled his back against a step and watched as tanker after tanker delivered there loads of water, waiting for evening and the start of festivities.
"Battle Armor. No thank you. I prefer speed, mobility, and armor in a fight. I have quite learned my lesson about being outside of a cockpit in a combat area. I shall stay in my 'Mech and let the experts go rooting around indoors and in dark tunnels."
She remembered the imposing sight of the Blakist armor; the feel of armored fingers around her neck. "If another warehouse needs to be cleared by me then I will simply blow it up."
"Aff. I'm not afraid of a fight, but I prefer to be behind the controls of my Mad Dog as well."
Rauda rubbed their stump absentmindedly, half paying attention to both the conversation and the show. It was hot in the sauna (obviously), and they took a deep swig of their drink, trying to properly relax. They felt like they were drinking quick but, well, they doubted anyone gathered would be too put out if they left the sauna less than sober, so long as they did not make too much of a fool of themselves.
"I am sure you could take some... appealing shots in an elemental," they argued absentmindedly. "From what I remember of the arcade game... fans, many people are interested in busty women with helmets on, neg?" They shrugged. "Something about the anonymity? It is not what I look for in a pin-up."
"The racks of ribs seemed particularly appealing. I will have an entire one of those, Jehan, if you please," Astrid says.
She settles back, shifting her posture slightly to watch the show, chuckling at the ongoing conversation.
"I believe the appeal of the fully-armored soldier, is somewhat down to the air of mystery, in that anything one could imagine could be under the armor. And often, that imagined occupant will often be more appealing to anyone given to such fantasies. Luckily, at least for Elementals, the real occupants are quite often handsome and/or beautiful, which is why I suspect they have become the most depicted form of these armored soldier pin-ups," she chuckles. Then she looks at Isidora, curiousity in her eyes. "Though I imagine on Helios, there may be a market for the highly cybernetically augmented equivalent, quiaff?"
"Well there is no vow of celibacy to be a Hand, the appeal is deliberately less sexual. Unless a Wraith or Poltergeist, traits that are attractive to frails tend to be veered away from within our ranks, though that has changed some in the last few generations. Something that needs to be considered with you clansfolk is that you all tend to be almost supernaturally pretty or handsome, not just the Elementals."
Battletech pirates make less sense the more I think about them.
how are they moving? how do you get millions of dollars worth of high end military equipment and industrial scale hardware be economically incentivesed to use all of that to go shoot some dirt farmers? how can no one track the spacecraft? how do you make money when your sister organization, mercenaries, barely get by with zero black market tax? All that added, how in Blake's name are there so many?
1. you can't track jumpships jumps, you can just know what systems are in a jump and where they might go. Most sane people stick to inhabited systems, of which there is usually relatively few in a jump, so tou dont get stranded if your ship breaks down. pirates aren't sane, and there are many many uninhabited stars.
2. many pirates are basically microstates, and even smaller bands may have even a whole planet of support civilians somewhere off the map, while larger bands can rival smaller periphery powers.
3. Mercs rely on whatever their contract from a house allows. pirates are often taking whatever they want. Food, slaves, their repair stuff is often free because they took it. How to get a battlemech? steal a shipment of new ones, often.
4. Many pirates have benefactors. Comstar did that for a while, and if you're attacking davion supply lines, you can probably get some money out of the snakes. Or cheapo mothballed battlemechs that haven't seen the 3040s onward refit programs.
So my beta reader for the Big Fics is an astrophysicist, right. Who is currently also writing a hard sci-fi novel about the exploration of Phobos (more power to them, I cannot with the physics required for that, best I can do is soft sci-fi/fantasy and that reminds me I should finish that story).
Anyway I was bitching about how hard it is to come up with feasible planets in Star Wars because sometimes you need a new planet from scratch and sometimes you need to know more about a planet than the 'has jungles, is probably a moon technically' than Wookieepedia will give you, and they're like 'oh yeah I can do something about that'.
So they've written (in Matlab but they swear it will run as a .exe as well and I may be conscripted to embed it as a web tool at some point) a star system generator.
You input what you know about the planet (ecosystem, population, sun colour, does it have liquid water, does it have a moon or moons, is it a moon or moons, temperature averages, atmosphere, you get me) and it will give you the... everything else about the star system, in obedience to real-universe physics. And if you input nothing you get a randomly generated star system.
And I’m like oh I know people who will be into this with a vengeance, and they're not on Tumblr, so this is me seeing who exactly would be keen on, and I cannot stress this enough, a real-physics comprehensive star system generator.
It's still in the debugging phase (last error fixed: every planet wants to have a population of exactly 5000 regardless of other factors, turned out to be a missing equals sign somewhere), but I'm psyched for this and trying to gauge interest for how high a priority 'make this an accessible web tool' needs to be.
So my beta reader for the Big Fics is an astrophysicist, right. Who is currently also writing a hard sci-fi novel about the exploration of Phobos (more power to them, I cannot with the physics required for that, best I can do is soft sci-fi/fantasy and that reminds me I should finish that story).
Anyway I was bitching about how hard it is to come up with feasible planets in Star Wars because sometimes you need a new planet from scratch and sometimes you need to know more about a planet than the 'has jungles, is probably a moon technically' than Wookieepedia will give you, and they're like 'oh yeah I can do something about that'.
So they've written (in Matlab but they swear it will run as a .exe as well and I may be conscripted to embed it as a web tool at some point) a star system generator.
You input what you know about the planet (ecosystem, population, sun colour, does it have liquid water, does it have a moon or moons, is it a moon or moons, temperature averages, atmosphere, you get me) and it will give you the... everything else about the star system, in obedience to real-universe physics. And if you input nothing you get a randomly generated star system.
And I’m like oh I know people who will be into this with a vengeance, and they're not on Tumblr, so this is me seeing who exactly would be keen on, and I cannot stress this enough, a real-physics comprehensive star system generator.
It's still in the debugging phase (last error fixed: every planet wants to have a population of exactly 5000 regardless of other factors, turned out to be a missing equals sign somewhere), but I'm psyched for this and trying to gauge interest for how high a priority 'make this an accessible web tool' needs to be.
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“Star Colonel Kaiza, one of your officers had a vision, quiaff?”
The warrior nods to the hologram of Galaxy Commander Rikkard. “Aff, Rikkard. Star Captain Prin of Pouncers Trinary.” Kaiza gestures to the warrior standing behind her on the dropship's bridge.
“Aff, I am familiar. Star Captain, tell me your vision.”
Prin steps forward and toggles the holotable to display a map of the Coen region.
“I was studying the regional map last night, when I fell into a trance. I saw the white terror stalking across the land, striking at the massed knights of all the realms. A subtle death, which they took home and which then slaughtered their families.”
Rikkard nods. “A dezgra blakist bioweapon. It is likely they do have them. Where did you see this.”
Prin pokes her fingers at an isolated mountain range. “Here, Galaxy Commander. Looking at this map, I had the thought that the surats would hide their secrets here.”
Rikkard looks down at the map on his own end. “Very well, Stat Captain. You may take your trinary and drop on this objective. Follow your vision quest, and find honor for us in the eyes of the ilKhan.”
Prin bows her head. “Galaxy Commander. Purifier will not let you down.”
Rikkard nods, and the hologram disappears. Kaiza looks back to the dropship commander on the bridge. “Captain! Bring us for an insertion pass over this point, have the Smoke Signal follow and drop the Pouncer Star they have aboard as well.” They turn back to Prin. “Prin, you will be alone on this. You will be distant from allied lines, and you will not have air or artillery support.”
Prin nods. “I am of Purifier Cluster. We will burn the surats from their hole, if my vision is true.”
Clouds whip around Prin's canopy, lightning flashes illuminating the inside of the storm. Her radio crackles with static.
The wind howls at the canopy of her Savage Wolf.
Then she's though the clouds, a hundred meters above the mountaintop valley that is her target, and the firm hand of gravity presses her into her seat as the mounted jumppack fires.
Ground defense batteries open up, but she trusts her changing momentum and fantastic rate of descent to keep them from her.
Snow vaporizes to steam as she lands in a ravine approaching the peak. Explosive bolts fire as her jump pack falls from the back of the OmniMech. Four other mechs land around her, and she sees the other five land nearby. A pair of Balacs sweep overhead, snow whipping in their trails.
“Pouncer actual, All report.”
“Maw Star, All here.” Star Commander Voil, of the second BattleMech Star in the Trinary.
“Tail Star, Wind hit our chutes coming down, and we are scattered but all reporting in.” The armor star: A pair each of SM1As, R10s, Shamashes, Cizins, as well as the Balacs, reinforced by a pair of infantry Points riding the R10s.
“Prowl Star, glad to be here, Pouncers.” A Star of Rabids, attached from one of the other Trinaries of Purifier Cluster, is spread between the OmniMechs in Prin's Star and Maw.
Lastly, Claw Star, Prin's Star reports.
“Claw 3 here.” Morris, pilot of a Thunderbolt IIC
“Claw 4.” Gray, pilot of a Huntsman.
“Claw 1 here, Prin.” Phoil, pilot of a Firestorm.
“Claw 2, ready to hunt.” Justin, pilot of a Shadow Cat.
Prin nods. All here. “Claw, Maw. Form up on me. We have turrets along our approach and fusion signatures incoming. Tail, have your helicopters locate your whole star and meet up on our tail. Once we are into the valley, you can come up and play.”
“Aff, Star Captain.”
Prin advances up the pass, swinging to bring her heavy laser to bear on an enemy firing position emerging from the rock. The pallid beam of light cuts into the weapons platform, and an explosion kicks up snow and rock.
An enemy Nyx swings around the corner of the pass, and opens fire with its medium lasers.
As one, Claw Star opens fire. Justin's gauss round tears half the chest off the tiny mech, while both of Prin's HAGs tear into its center mass, ripping it apart.
Justin laughs. “Ha! Nyxes? We fought Nyxes in the crumbling ruins of the Republic.”
Prin scowls. “Mind the comms, MechWarrior Justin. Also, you were seven years old then.”
The real enemy resistance arrives soon after. An Initiate and a Blue Flame approach, flanked by Manticore tanks.
Phoil immediately engages the enemy armor with his twin plasma weapons.
Lasers and particle beams cross between the two forces, and the blakists, who had been trying to push back the Clan warriors, begin to pull back with the incessant press of the Purifiers.
In an adjacent pass, a flurry of missiles arcs briefly over the intervening ridge, before disappearing down somewhere towards the enemy.
The Balacs rip forward again, low and fast, high explosive ATM rounds rippling across the Initiate.
Plasma flame burns across the hull of a Manticore which lazily rotates out of control, before slowly crashing into the canyon wall. A gauss round smacks through the cockpit of the Blue Flame.
The Initiate is disabled, the rest destroyed. Prin puts her foot through the blakist's cockpit as they advance, and a pair of Rabids jump off her to check the Manticores.
Claw Star breaks out of the pass, and into the valley. A fleeing Crab backs out of the adjacent pass, firing lasers into a running Cave Lion from Maw Star
The Crab goes down hard, and the Cave Lion drives a fist into the jutting front of the blakist Battlemech, and reorients to face the enemies now arrayed in the valley.
The rest of Maw catches up, and Tail whips up from behind Prin, hovercraft whipping up snow in their lift fans, and kicked up behind R10s.
An Awesome leads a pair of Level IIs, followed by a pair of Grand Crusaders, a Battle Master, a Dragon Fire, Avatar, Shadow Hawk, a pair of Rommels, a Condor, and a Bola.
The two sides clash like thunder. The swift Clan hovertanks cut into the enemy mechs, and swiftly the Avatar drops into the snow.
The Rabids leap forward from their carriers into the fray, bounding across the field to cling to a Grand Crusader, the Battle Master, and the tanks.
The Firestorms in both Stars focus on the armor, while the Cave Lion trades PPC fire with the Awesome.
Pril exchanges fire with the Dragon Fire, a gauss round ricocheting from her ferro-lam armor while her HAG volley and ATMs savage it.
The Battlemaster goes down, cockpit a smoking ruin from an SM1's autocannon.
Snow melts around the Awesome, a Firestorm joining the Cave Lion in tearing into it, while the Cave Lion seems to have lost an arm.
Justin's Shadow Cat stumbles ina sprinting pass, sparks flying from one leg, with a yell of “STRAVAG!”
Pril glares at the flashing paper doll of the mech on her HUD. “Watch your MASC in the future, Justin!”
The Condor opens fire, and Justin's gauss rifle slumps as autocannon shells tear into the shoulder mechanism.
Pril's heavy laser melts into the hip of the Dragon Fire. The BattleMech begins to limp, and a Balac makes a swoop at it.
The mech falls down, chin plowing into the ground. Pril glances down at her MAD screen.
“Pouncer actual to Tail 5. I'm picking up something on magnetic anomaly. Send the R10s to check the area.”
“Aff, Star Captain.”
The two APCs whip around the battle, and head towards the anomaly.
The Savage Wolf shudders as a Grand Crusader launches a volley of missiles, and Prin responds with an alpha strike, heat spiking in the cockpit. The Grand Crusader staggers back and Gray runs in in his Huntsman, large lasers pulsing armor off of the assault ‘mech's shoulder. The Grand Crusader keeps its focus on Prin even as its arm falls limp, myomers severed.
There's a flash as the Crusader's laser sweeps across the Savage Wolf's cockpit, then it staggers back as a volley of autocannon rounds from one of the SM1As as it rockets past.
The blakists one by one fall, and the Spirit Cats push up, leaving a Griffin IIC and Justin's Shadow Cat disabled behind them.
More enemies are moving up, a pair of Grand Titans followed by a Perseus and Rifleman.
~
Point Commander Krag lands hard and heavy at the beacon given by the foot infantry platoons. The four Elemental warriors in their Rabid armor land behind him, and he approaches the pair of gray APCs, and the foot infantry spread out in the snow around them. Each of the soldiers is ominously in full body hazardous environment gear.
The two Points are spread out around a carefully concealed bunker entrance. The white-painted doors are barely visible on the snow.
“Point Commander Vallarde! You needed support?”
The senior freeborn infantry point commander runs up. “Aff. We need support opening the doors. We cannot blast, if the Star Captain is right, quiaff?”
Krag nods, and walks over to the door. The smooth armor is almost flawless, but he quickly finds the seam and thumps his fist into it over and over. Opening enough of a gap, he digs his manipulators into the armor, and tears the doors open.
An elevator shaft sinks into thr ground. Wide, large enough for freight or small cars. While the infantry set up rapells, the battle armored troops simply drop down the shaft.
Krag and his Point land with enough force to collapse the elevator car, and they waste no time in forcing open the lower doors.
A waiting Zombie steps backwards in shock and Krag raises his flamer. A stream of jellied propellant coats the Manei Domini, quickly melting away flesh and myomer prosthetics. Jelly flecks land on the two others waiting behind, and they die screaming. More conventional infantry behind them in Tornado suits, lean out of doors and over crates.
Krag activates his speakers.
“Pathetic!”
He steps forward, and takes a knee as rifle rounds bounce from his armor. The hall is just wide enough that the rest of his Point can form in behind him. Two kneel just behind him, gun arms raised beside his head, while the other two stand behind them.
They flood the hall with flame, cooking the infantry alive in their suits of armor.
The Rabids advance in front of the ranks of infantry, deeper into the bunker. They find scientists holed up in offices which they burn away.
“One last sealed door, get this open!”
~
Pril swivels her head over as her neurohelmet visor automatically polarizes near black.
A column of almost white flame pours out of the bunker the infantry had entered minutes ago.
“Stravag!”
The comms erupt into chaos as radiation counters spike, and the armor Star Commander tries to get the APCs to respond.
Pril keeps exchanging fire with the Grand Titan.
A gauss round tears her left arm off, but her final volley of ATMs land savagely on the assault ‘mech's ravaged central chest, and with a roaring blast from both her HAGs, the Grand Titan's reactor controls let go with a great blast of steam and plasma.
Shrapnel patters from her canopy, and Pril looks around. The Spirit Cats had been savaged, but twenty-two blakist BattleMechs and tanks lay dead in the snow.
She may have been right, if the infantry had chosen to detonate a nuke, or the base had been boony-trapped with it. They'd never know now, though.
“Pouncers, form up on me. Gather our wounded, and lick our wounds. We have a long march through enemy territory before we can truly rest. We have crushed the evil of my vision, and ensured the future of the Nova Cat!”
