DC-RD-06-02 #01 Registered Contract: DC-RD-06-02 Region: Draconis Combine System: Skondia Galactic Coordinates: X: -32.08 Y: 56.07 Days to Jump Point:14 days Planet:Skondia Primary Planetary Climate:Temperate Approximate Population:2.762 Billion People Capital City:Platinum City Contract Type:Riot Duty Primary Operational Terrain:Urban, Heavy Contract Duration: 6 Months (90 Days in REAL TIME) negotiable Employer:Draconis Combine Employer Contact:DCPS Liaison Sho-sa Emanuel Parker Command Rights:Faction Command Forces Recommended:A Company Strength Detachment Supporting Forces:Local Militia and Planetary Defense Forces, Local Law Enforcement Enemy Forces:Free Skondia Mutineers Supplement Contracts Offered:Extraction Bounty Per Word:800 C-Bills Minimum Bounty:18,000 Word Transcript Bonus Salvage Bounty Target:84,000 Word Transcript Bonus Salvage Category:Type-E Salvage PLANETARY DETAILS: An abundance of rare mineral deposits and industrial-grade metals made Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested a prize to the European and African colonists who first settled this world during humanity's exodus into space. Within a decade of the first settlers' arrival, in fact, the planet's first cities had already become industrial centers with dozens of businesses involved in the mining and refining of steel, titanium, and nickel-alloy materials used in everything from kitchen utensils to spacecraft and fusion engine manufacturing. Not surprisingly, this wealth soon drew the interest of the Federation of Skye. Unfortunately, Draconis Combine had long since become part of the rising dragon, having been claimed by the Draconis Combine in one of its earliest conquests. Over the centuries following the Federation's transformation into the Lyran Commonwealth, Houses Kurita and Steiner warred over control of this valuable resource world, with Steiner claiming it during the Age of War and through the Star League era. After the fall of the League, the Combine moved to reclaim Draconis Combine in 2786, with a brutal assault campaign directed first against the civilian populace, and then against the planet's industries when the slow-moving Lyrans tried to intercede. The results of an easy conquest convinced then-Coordinator Minoru Kurita that House Steiner was too weak to present a worthy challenge to his Draconis Combine, and ironically turned the might of the Dragon away more effectively than a spirited defense might have. Over the following centuries of the Succession Wars, Draconis Combine would be assaulted and raided many more times, but the world remained in the hands of the Draconis Combine. The capital of Draconis Combine, Platinum City, is located on the southeastern continent of Steen. While this city boasts an impressive spaceport less than five kilometers to its north, most shipping traffic is routed through Passageway, a sprawling megalopolis on the northern continent of Edel. Socio-Industrial Levels: Technological Development World of moderate advancement; average educational systems and medical care; microelectronics can not be manufactured. Industrialization Level Moderately industrialized; may produce a limited number/quantity of specific complex products. Raw Material Dependence World/system produces all the raw materials needed and commonly exports large quantities of surplus. Industrial Output World has a moderate industrial base that produces a few different categories of products, exporting some of the output. Agricultural Dependence World has and environment producing most foods, but relies on some imports for food not capable of being grown. EMPLOYER SITUATION REPORT: A rebel group calling themselves the 'Free Draconis Combine Mutineers' has been plaguing governance on Draconis Combine since shortly after our securing the system in early 3089. Local militia units have been dealing with the rebels, but they have grown in size and support rather alarmingly. The 15th and 24th Dieron Regulars are currently stationed on world, but Dieron District Command wishes to keep them well rested and equipped and so has kept them from any operations against the Mutineers. The local Governor has requested aid, but with the recent conquests by Agatha and the need for all available DCMS units to deal with her very real threat, the DCPS has been instructed to post this contract offer with the MRBC. Dieron District Command is seeking a small but specialized mercenary unit with its own equipment and personnel to deal with the 'Free Draconis Combine Mutineers'. Completely wiping out the dissidents is desirable but not absolutely necessary. The Dragon has learned to some degree that our heavy handed tactics can lead to blow-back, so any means necessary via violence, persuasion or otherwise will suffice. Your most important task is to ensure that the 15th and 24th Dieron Regulars do not get dragged into the conflict. These units are needed for upcoming operations against Free Skondia Mutineers and the Free Worlds League. All other concerns are secondary. You will be cooperating with the local government and be taking direction from a Liaison assigned from Dieron District Command, but you are not to request for or receive assistance from the 15th or the 24th. Notes: - The Draconis Combine and Lyran Alliance are currently under treaty of peace, as both realms are dealing with the threat posed by Agatha and her lap dogs of the Unified Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army. You can expect no surprises from House Steiner. The ISF did suspect the LIC of aiding the enemy in violation of the treaty. However, investigations have not produced any evidence to support this. - Salvage rights are poor. Any equipment you recover or capture will first fulfill any needs the 15th or 24th may have. PRIMARY OBJECTIVES: 1) Ensure the 15th Dieron Regulars and 24th Dieron Regulars do not get invovled in the uprising of the 'Free Draconis Combine Mutineers'. 2) n/a SECONDARY OBJECTIVES: 1) Crush the resistance and pacify Draconis Combine's population. 2) Capture the resistance leaders, to be turned over to local law enforcement. Contract Begin Dec 11 3092 Ends June 11 3093 (negotiable) Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA DC-RD-06-02 #02 #3 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #3] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 15 July 2016 - 12:50 PM DC-RD-06-02 #03 #4 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #4] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 16 July 2016 - 09:46 PM DC-RD-06-02 #05 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Al Na'ir Province Dieron Gaspar Guanajuato Salamanca Tatsuyama Mountains Dragon's Roost Hanaori Palace 2nd November 1030am 3092 Chu-i Hulda Stjern stood as patiently as possible in the small booth in the basement of the reinforced Palace, waiting as the equipment behind the titanium and ferro crete walls scanned her for high-tech bugs. Security here was so meticulous that no one . . . not Hulda, not JumpShip Wing’s Chu-sa John Dryden, not even the Tai-sa herself . . . could bypass the bug scan, let alone the weapons and identity checks. But the ritual only heightened her anger. The small green light in the center of the ceiling lit. Hulda stared at the door, willing it to open. When it did, she walked down the hall to an elevator that opened as she approached. She didn’t have to press any buttons once inside, which was fortunate; she would have broken either the panel or her fingers with the jabs. The elevator opened a few seconds later fifty feet below the level where she had started. Hulda walked to a stairwell at the far end, ignoring the two Kanazuchi Battle armored troopers flanking the entrance. Downstairs, her heels echoed loudly on the cement floor as she strode to the small conference room next to the secure communications suite used to support House Kurita’s Modern Warfare Innovative Tactics operations. The door to the conference room was ajar. Hulda pushed it open and found Tai-sa Duane Johnson sitting alone at the far end of the conference table. “Why wasn’t I told?” she demanded. “I did tell you,” the Tai-sa answered smugly. “You waited three hours. I heard about it from the Mercenary Review & Bonding Commission first, for cryin’ out loud.” “I know, uh, that was a mistake. My mistake. I called your office and Karen said you were with the Tai-sa. So I waited.” Duane answered referring to Chu-i Karen Tsang head of the Ronin’s coordination unit. “You should have used the personal vidphone. That’s why I have it,” Hulda sneered. Johnson tried not to act intimidated, but Hulda Stjern’s fury was not easily withstood. Though only forty one, she was one of the most powerful women in Razan’s Ronins, serving as the Tai-sa’s counsel and her personal representative to the Shadow Battalion, in effect, Johnson’s boss. Complicating matters was the fact that she was pretty good looking, too: with her dark chocolate mocha skin complexion, touch up her nose, add a little makeup, maybe hire a hair stylist, and she could pass as a model or at least a Periphery actress. “The Coordinator’s reaction was better than expected,” offered Johnson, trying to salvage what he could of the situation. “The tailor turned out to be Wamid Shalan. The Dragon wanted him for opposition to the Coordinator reforms activities, so . . . ” “Why was Kintaro on Draconis Combine in the first place? He didn’t clear that with me. He exceeded his authority. He was told to proceed with caution on the entire operation.” “I think getting Tanaka Kintaro to proceed with caution, Chu-i Stjern, would be well beyond even your considerable abilities,” said the JumpShip Wing CO John Dryden, striding into the room behind her. “And I think you would be doing the Ronins’ a great disservice besides.” Johnson’s military training kicked in, and he jumped to his feet. “Chu-sa.” Hulda felt her face burn. “My Intelligence Division will not be a rogue organization,” she told Dryden. “I quite agree,” said the JumpShip Wing CO softly. He pulled a chair out and sat down. Hulda took a moment to gather herself, putting on what she thought of as her DEST face: neutral, reserved, calm. She wasn’t exactly sure where she stood with Dryden. The Tai-sa had appointed him Chu-sa partly based on her recommendation; she had known Dryden from a stint in the Benjamin Military District, when as a retired JumpShip Pilot he had acted as an informal and valuable ‘consultant’ to some of the ranking members in the Benjamin Military District Regulars. But they had had a few disagreements after his enlistment, when as Intel counsel to the Tai-sa she recommended against some of his suggestions as a matter of principle. And now that the Tai-sa had promoted Hulda as overseeing the Razan’s Ronins Intelligence Arm, she wouldn’t blame Dryden if he saw her as an interloper. The promotion effectively usurped the Chu-sa for operation’s authority over the Modern Warfare DEST Team, and since the Modern Warfare DEST Team reported directly to Tai-sa Onishi Razan, it tended to cut her out as well. She had heard from others that Dryden implied he had himself suggested that she take the position, acting as the Tai-sa’s eyes, ears, and conscience on sensitive covert missions. It hadn’t happened that way; the Tai-sa had had the idea herself. Or so Hulda believed. “I called over to your office to find out what was going on,” Dryden told Hulda, answering her unasked question about why he was there. “When I heard you were on your way, I thought it would be wise to join you in person for an update. Unless, of course, you have an objection.” “I have no objection at all,” Hulda told him. “You’re the JumpShip Wing’s Commanding Officer.” And without his satellites her position was just a rubber stamp. Dryden smiled. He pressed his finger to his lip in a thoughtful pose, inadvertently emphasizing the scar on his cheek that was a souvenir of a nasty incident during his salad days as a midshipman. “Tai-sa Johnson was just giving me a briefing,” said Hulda. “And I would be pleased for you to hear and offer your insights.” Johnson recounted the events on Sabik and Draconis Combine, adding very little to what Hulda and Dryden already knew. With the Modern Warfare DEST Team operation over, the ISF had made a dozen arrests in the Kokuryu-Kai Insurrection case earlier in this year; Hulda had been with the Tai-sa when Ninyu Kerai-Indrahar personally briefed her. Among the charges were hardline traditionalist group opposed to Coordinator Hohiro Kurita's reforms of the Draconis Combine, failure to pay homage to The Pillar of Gold's Ministry of the Treasury by the guidelines of the Dictum Honorium under the Bureau of Control of the Distribution of Symbolic Assets. From what she had seen, Hulda thought the failure to pay homage and related currency violations would be hard to prove, but the opposition to the Coordinator was a slam dunk. She kept that opinion to herself. She also didn’t share her opinion that the group was a collection of schizoid crazies who would have been ignored if they hadn’t had access to a few billion Ryu and if the ISF didn’t need a political score to manipulate its standing with its citizens. “The ISF felt it had to go ahead with the exiles,” said Hulda. “With Tachikawa dead, there was little prospect of gathering more information about the groups that Kokuryu-Kai (Black Dragon Society) may have been trying to contact.” “Good timing with the Tai-sa’s foray into the Free World’s League Invasion Corridor coming up,” said Dryden. That was the sort of comment from the JumpShip Wing CO that threw Hulda. She knew . . . and she suspected that Dryden did as well . . . that the Tai-sa thought just the opposite. Anything involving the Free World’s League had the potential to throw off the delicate peace Onishi was trying to foster between the Kuritans and the Free Worlders. The exiles were preferable to opposition activity, certainly, but only just. “So the Kokuryu-Kai Insurrection case is wrapped up?” Dryden asked. “From the ISF’s point of view, yes. But there are a few things ‘Iceman’ wanted to look at,” said Johnson. “He thinks he may be able to get more information about the group’s contacts, maybe leverage that into information about rebel groups that we have poor intelligence on. There were some phone calls preceding Tachikawa’s visit to a rebel cell on Rio. It may be a wild goose chase, but you know Kintaro.” “He does love wild goose chases,” said Dryden. Dryden didn’t say anything else. Hulda sensed he had come not about this . . . the briefing could have been done over holographic video conference. . . but because he wanted to talk about something else. “I think we’re in a wrap-up stage on the Kokuryu-Kai Insurrection. The action in Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested was unfortunate,” she said. “Unavoidable, I would say,” said Dryden. “The Free Worlders used that word,” said Johnson, sensing he might escape without further roasting. “Is there anything else at the moment, Duane?” asked Hulda. “No, ma’am,” he succinctly replied. “I think the Chu-sa and I might spend a few minutes reviewing some budgetary matters,” she said. Johnson was only too happy to be relieved. “You dealt with Draconis Combine Ambassador masterfully,” said Dryden when they were alone. “I simply told the Ambassador that executive privilege is an important principle that must be maintained,” said Hulda, aware that she was being buttered up for something else. The head of the Draconis Combine’s Embassy had asked for a public session on the recent attempt by rebels to explode a dirty bomb above Platinum City; her inquiry would have undoubtedly revealed enough about their Modern Warfare DEST Team that its efficiency would have been threatened. Turning her back was a no-brainer and one of the easier tasks Hulda had accomplished the month before. “Kintaro exceeded his authority by going into Draconis Combine without clearing the operation first,” said Hulda. She knew Dryden and Kintaro had a long-standing personal relationship, and guessed that was his concern. “I don’t think there’s a question about that. This was a planetary operation, and he went overboard. It was just ‘Iceman’ being ‘Iceman’.” “That may be.” Dryden smiled wryly. He had known Kintaro for a long time, and would have been surprised if Kintaro hadn’t gone off in his own direction. Getting the Modern Warfare DEST Team involved in the Kokuryu-Kai operation had been overkill, but it precluded the possibility of a mess if the Draconis Combine Government, as usual, bungled. More important for Dryden, it positioned the Modern Warfare DEST Team for a more serious task. “I wouldn’t want to micromanage Kintaro,” Dryden said. “Sometimes a horse has to be given his head.” “Or a man enough rope?” suggested Hulda. “If we have the proper people in place, we learn to trust their judgments,” said Dryden. “I’m not here to second-guess you or to stick up for Tanaka.” “Okay then. I give. Why are you here then?” Hulda folded her arms. Talking to Dryden was like playing three-dimensional chess blindfolded: sometimes it was a struggle simply to know where the pieces were, let alone dissect his strategy. “The Internal Security Force’s Metsuke Division has developed information that the leader of the Free Draconis Combine Mutineers will be en route to Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested for a meeting within the next few weeks,” said Dryden. “Tai-sa Sathen Sakamoto.” “Sakamoto would leave Alphecca?” “Metsuke’s information is almost always correct, especially if they’re passing it along. Nonetheless, we haven’t been able to confirm it. Not through the ordinary channels. Our dedicated resources in the Invasion Corridor are skimpy. The Red Storm is sifting through intercepts and the staff on Dieron and down at the Farm are sifting the wheat, but we have no verification.” Sathen Sakamoto had been a member of the Black Dragon Society before the war. He had been identified by the House Kurita’s intelligence service as well as the Razan’s Ronins as the leader of “New Black Dragons,” a resistance movement responsible for more than two dozen strikes against various Steen and Edel targets in the last twelve months. Capturing him and putting him on trial would be a major coup. Especially now, with the Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested government just starting to gain legitimacy. “We have to get him if we can,” said Hulda. “Even if it’s a long shot.” “I quite agree.” WORD COUNT 2023 Name: MyKayla Callsign: ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ Rank: Sho-ko Hardware: Daboku DCMS-MX92-E Company: Ronin Legion Lance: Dragon Sword Assignment: Sniper Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #06 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Al Na'ir Province Dieron Gaspar Guanajuato Salamanca Tatsuyama Mountains Dragon's Roost Hanaori Palace 2nd November 22:45pm 3092 Several hours later, back in the Palace’s administrative Wing, Tai-sa Onishi Razan poked her head into Chu-I Hulda Stjern’s office. “Well, now, Chu-i Stjern, I am glad to see you here so late,” Onishi told her in her matronly Qandaharian voice. “The Dragon is getting it’s money’s worth.” “We have to talk, Tai-sa,” Hulda said. “So your note said, Chu-i. And here I am.” Onishi slid into the chair across from Hulda’s desk. “So what do you want to tell me?” Tai-sa Onishi Razan came by her Japanese dialect honestly: she traced her ancestry to an indentured AsTech who’d come over before the 2nd Succession War. The accent could range from a very light note to a thick brogue, depending on political requirements . . . and how tired she was. Since it was going on eleven p.m., she supposed fatigue was responsible for its thickness … though she was never one hundred percent sure. After Hulda relayed what Dryden had told her about Sakamoto, the Tai-sa’s smile turned to a frozen frown. “Why would he be going to Draconis Combine?” she asked. “We’re not sure. Our theory is that there is some sort of high-level meeting planned, with outside groups meeting to coordinate strategy and possibly pass money. Sakamoto’s organization needs funds. The new see-saw government has had some success clamping down on the money that was coming from outside cells.” “I find the timing curious.” “It may have nothing to do with your leaving for the Free World Invasion Corridor,” Hulda told her. Or it may, Sakamoto was now seen as a very capable man, though Razan herself had not had an opportunity to test his mettle. “I am thinking that with the initiative from the Dieron Miltary District, I will need a special envoy, someone the Free Worlders especially would be comfortable with. And Torii would be a prime candidate,” said the Tai-sa. “I’m sure she’d be fine.” “How do you know?” The truth was, she didn’t. Hulda had had no dealings with Nashiro, not even when she was working with overhauling the Razan’s Ronins AeroSpace Wing. Special envoy was not only an important position; it was also the sort of post that might lead to the award of a prestigious medal; the Bushido Blade, certainly if the Tai-sa’s initiative brought the two sides closer together. “I have only one outstanding requirement for the job,” continued the Tai-sa, “but it’s critical. I need a man, or a woman, who will tell me the truth, even if it is something I do not want to hear.” “That sounds like my job description,” said Hulda. “I’m sorry, “Hulda, but you would not be qualified for this job.” “I don’t want it.” “Well, good. Then I won’t have to worry that you might be prejudiced.” Razan’s lips turned up in a half smile. “I’d like you to go on to Draconis Combine ahead of me and make an assessment. I know Tai-sa Torii’s résumé is impressive. And I know she’s not very personable. She and I even get along, for which there is something to be said. But that’s not what I truly need to know.” “Onishi … Tai-sa . . . ” “Onishi is fine when we are alone. Go ahead, tell me what I don’t want to hear but must hear.” “You’re putting me in a difficult position.” “Now I thought that was your job description.” Onishi smiled again, and this time traces of it lingered on her face as she continued to speak. “You might find an excuse to visit Sabik and Atria and the other planets in our beleaguered province as well, instead of me. Take their pulse, as it were. I suspect that you should be in the area if we are to take up this contract to extract Tai-sa Sathen Sakamoto.” “Yes, ma’am, of course,” said Hulda, who hadn’t been thinking that at all; she had plenty of work to do on Dieron, and her role was to supervise the Modern Warfare DEST Team operations, not take part in them. Then again, she was looking for an opportunity to talk to Tanaka in person. He could blow her off too easily over his personal communicator, and made a regular habit of it. “I’ll leave as soon as I can,” said Hulda. “Now, now. No need to rush,” said Razan. “Give yourself twenty-four hours to wrap things up. And make sure that Karen knows how to get in touch with you.” “I will.” Razan started to leave but then turned back. “Now you remember one thing. If you get hurt, I’m going to have to be the one to tell the MRBC. And neither one of us wants that. So you be careful, hear?” Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Al Na'ir Province Dieron Gaspar Guanajuato Salamanca Embassy 3rd November 13:15pm Local “Before you blow your top,” Emanuel Parker, the DCPS Liaison officer told Onishi, “listen to the whole contract. This is a good one, ‘Rough Ryder’. A real good one.” “Parker, I don’t blow my top. Your top, maybe.” The old wooden chair creaked as Onishi leaned back. It felt so rickety; she thought it was going to send her in a tumble to the floor at any minute. Tai-sa Onishi ‘Rough Ryder’ Razan, Tai-sa Torii ‘Nemesis’ Nashiro, and Tai-sa Reece ‘Buddha’s Fist’ Kimura were sitting in a secure communications facility in the Dieron embassy, a room within a room with an encrypted communications link back to the Zenith space station. They had the option of using video and seeing Parker as they spoke, but the vote not to do so had been unanimous. “So tell me what the story is,” said Onishi. “Why are we being jerked off one wild goose chase and put on another?” “How’d you know there was a new assignment?” asked Parker, totally dumbfounded. Onishi rolled her eyes for the others. “Spill it, Emanuel,” she told Parker. “Sakamoto. Sathen Sakamoto.” “That’s it?” Onishi blurted out. “The name doesn’t mean anything to you? For Buddha’s sake, ‘Rough Ryder’, where have you been? This is only the most infamous Kurita scumbag going. I bet Nashiro knows who he is.” “Yeah, he’s at the top of the Who’s Who of Inner Sphere Scumbags,” said Nashiro. “Right behind Agatha.” “Where did we get this?” asked Onishi. “ISF Metsuke Division. Came from the top. I think Jakushi Meshune huddled with Ambassador Katsuie, and here we are.” Parker gave them everything he knew about Sakamoto, which wasn’t all that much. The ISF either didn’t know or wouldn’t say where exactly he was going. The Internal Security Force had several indications that he had moved coreward from the Ashio Province . . . a favorite of Nashiro’s . . . and theorized that he was near the border, though not yet across. Several groups tied to his organization had transferred funds into bank accounts used by the Free Draconis Combine Mutineers, and Dieron Miltary District intelligence had several leads about where he was in their province. “Yeah, Military District intelligence,” said Nashiro. “Snakes with IQs equal to their shoe sizes.” “The assignment is to locate and apprehend,” said Parker, ignoring Torii. “Apprehend as in arrest, as in bring him back alive,” queried Kimura. “And what do I do when he tells me to get bent?” said Onishi. “Rhetorical question, Emanuel,” she added quickly. “Is the Voice of the Dragon involved?” Onishi referred to the propaganda division of the Draconis Combine's Internal Security Force. Previously just called 'Propaganda Division' and considered the most benign branch of the ISF, the Voice of the Dragon has an agent on the board of directors of every Combine media concern. The agents of this branch limit their activities to reporting Inner Sphere and Combine events in a manner consistent with the wishes of the Kurita family. “No. They’re tied up,” replied Parker. “Where’s Cinderella?” asked Torii. “Sho-ko Krall? I put her on a freighter to Draconis Combine. We’ve asked for a liaison from the Draconis Combine Militia’s Global Intelligence Agency security section. Where do you want her?” “Sargon,” whisper Nashiro low enough so not to key the mic. Onishi held up a finger indicating ‘hold up a sec’ and shook her head no, “I don’t know yet,” said the Tai-sa. The Voice of the Dragon’s posture struck her as odd; if they bothered to pass something along, they almost always provided a complete dossier and at least a liaison to feed back notes. “Listen, I want to talk to Meshune.” “Why?” questioned Parker. “I’m having some trouble with my 401 K.” “We don’t have a 401 K plan.” Kimura and Nashiro both started to laugh. Onishi grinned, relaxing a little. “Get him for me, will you?” she prodded. “I can’t just snap my fingers and get him on the HPG.” “Use the Bat Phone, Robin.” “Come on ‘Rough Ryder’. Meshune is traveling. I don’t know where he is. I can send him a priority alpha.” “Tell him I want to talk to him, not you. Say it’s important.” “OK. Listen, Tomoe wants you to meet her on Draconis Combine. She wants to talk to you. She’s pretty upset about ‘Iceman’.” “What about it?” ask Onishi. “He didn’t run the operation by her. She wants you on Draconis Combine . . . ” “There’s been a change of plans. I’m not going to Draconis Combine.” Onishi cut the DCPS Liaison off mid sentence. “Hey, ‘Rough Ryder’, you can’t blow her off. She’s your benefactor.” “All right. Let me talk to her.” “She’s not here, ‘Rough Ryder’. And it’s the middle of the night on Terra. Like four a.m.” “The way you’re calling her Tomoe and everything, I thought you were at her apartment.” “ ‘Rough Ryder’.” “Wake her up.” “Come on.” “Look, I’m not going to Draconis Combine. Why should we go to Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested from Dieron and then turn right around and have to lift for the Invasion Corridor?” She looked at the calendar. “Cinderella’s going to Draconis Combine?” “Yeah.” “Hold her there. Tell her that she’ll be met by Tai-sa Tanaka Kintaro in week or maybe ten days.” “What should I tell Tom . . . Ambassador Katsuie?” “Tell her I’ll be on Altair. Actually, probably Asta, with Warlord Tai-shu Isoroku Kurita and them ‘Wrath of the Dragon’ boys.” “She really wants to talk to you.” “My satellite communicator is on twenty four seven.” “What about Nashiro and Kimura?” “They can get their own dates.” “ ‘Rough Ryder’, listen. Katsuie is going to be pissed.” Onishi tossed the communicator on the table. The others looked at her. Onishi folded her arms across her chest but then reached across and picked it up. “You OK, ‘Rough Ryder’?” asked Parker. “Maybe you need a rest.” “Yeah, a nice long rest,” Onishi said. “So Katsuie wants to chew my butt in person, huh?” “Well, I don’t know that she wants to chew you out.” “Oh, come on, Emanuel. But hey, who knows? Maybe some hot-looking brunette who graduated magna cum laude at daddy’s law school can run covert ops better than an ex-DEST Agent can.” “Listen, you don’t have to like it,” said Parker. “You just have to do your job.” “You know what, Emanuel? I’m going to take your advice,” said Onishi. “Tell Tomoe she can look me up on Asta if she wants, because I don’t have to like it, but I have a job to do.” This time when she tossed the communicator, Onishi got up and left the room. Word Count 1948 Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: ‘Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa, Commanding Hardware: Naginata NG-RO1 Company: Ronin Legion Lance: Fire Dragon Assignment: MUCO Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #07 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Al Na'ir Province Dieron Gaspar Guanajuato Inznakki Valley along the Khoomei River Interplanetary Spaceport 4th November 13:15am Local The former Rasalhauge Militia Regular stood back from the ramp leading off the Mammoth Classed DropShip. It had landed on Dieron at the Interplanetary Spaceport in Inznakki at the Ronin’s docking Pad. The Go-cho (Corporal) was tasked with the organization, and all the paper work that went along with it, of Hojuhei (Recruit)Takei ‘Turbo’ Oka into his squad and the Shadow Battalion by the XO of Razan’s Ronins, Tai-sa (Major) Owen Callaghan. He hated every minute of it. Gerald was glad however when Hojuhei (Recruit) Oka walked over to him. “I take it that you have taken this time on your ride in from the Jump Point to get properly familiar with the Razan’s Ronins and the way we do things? Good. I am Go-cho (Corporal) Gerald Brand, Assault ‘Mech pilot.” Gerald said as he extended his hand to Takei. The Hojuhei (Recruit) was a ‘stocky’ sort of a man at a little over 6’ and weighing in at 225 pounds if he was even two fifty. He was a handsome sort, with reddish-blonde hair, hazel eyes, and the nose, lips, and eyes that identified him as Scandinavian. Gerald tapped his Vid-PDA, and scrolled to the ’O’s and scanned over the dossier label Takei ‘Turbo’ Oka. His eyes stuck on the section that began with “Rasalgethi”. He allowed himself to briefly scan this section before returning to his briefing. “I will show you to the base and then to your Kishi Scout Battle armor.” Your suit has been moved out to the parade grounds by your technician, Shujin (Master Sergeant) Chisan Chong. You’ll need to acclimate yourselves to the neural feedback before you move out. You will need to setup your security codes and voice recognition patterns as soon as we reach them.” Gerald handed Takei a holodisc as he spun on his heels began to lead Takei out through SpacePort Military Security. The metal detector went off and Gerald flipped up his leather vest to reveal his sidearm while simultaneously flashing the security detail his RRMB credentials. After a brisk walk and fifteen minutes later they reached a camo’d M3077 with another Go-cho (Corporal) behind the wheel, Hank Sullon. Gerald climbed in across from the driver and Takei climb into the rear seat. They drove for the better part of an hour making small talk. “On the holodisc I provided you with, you will find all the info you will need to bring your weapons online and all the mission coordinates, objectives, and waypoints. It has a schedule for chow, a list of comm. frequencies and call signs, and a list of dates, times, and locations for pickup intervals in case you get separated from the unit.” Gerald handed Takei his ID badge, and told him that he’d have to stow his duffel bag and gear in the barracks for now. Gerald took an hour to introduce him to the Kishi Squad’s Commanding Officer Go-cho (Corporal)Natasha Stetson and Shadow Battalion’s second squad CO, Shujin (Master Sergeant) Ionela Bretan. Natasha was a fair skinned bombshell non-comm with jet black hair and a full set of pouty lips. From Takei’s brief encounter with his immediate CO he got the impression that she projected a Sassy demeanor. Ionela on the other hand, who looked every bit to be Natasha junior; although she did, in fact, outrank Natasha, came across as being the more laid back of the two. Probably exactly why she was a Shujin (Master Sergeant) and Natasha was still a Go-cho (Corporal) . Gerald explained to him that he would meet with the Battalion XO, Tai-sa (Major) Owen Callaghan, sometime this afternoon and meet with the Battalion Commanding, Tai-sa Onishi Razan, sometime over the next couple of days. Fifteen minutes later, and a brisk walk over to the barracks, Gerald took just a moment to introduce Takei Oka to his other two lance mates, Heishi (Private) Joy Winn, who was the Ceremonial Armors resident sniper, and Gunjin (Lance Corporal) Boris, he was a beast with the heavy battle vibro claw. Joy was busy on the free weights. She lay on her back with a lean leg on either side of the bench. Her auburn hair was shaved on either side with a Mohawk down the middle. Her taut stomach muscles were well defined and her body glistened with a thin sheen of perspiration. She wore a pair of silk blue running shorts and a half shirt that had ‘Poison Ivy’ emblazoned across her breasts. Boris was seated on a cushioned benched near a window reading from a tablet PC with reading glasses. He donned the Razan’s Ronin’s Battle Armor Duty Uniform. Starched maroon tunic, pressed trousers, and spit shined boots. “Ronins, this is your newest Grun . . . uh, newest Kishi Pilot to the Light Armor Section, Hojuhei (Recruit) Takei.” Gerald deliberately dropped his surname feeling that he had not earned it. Holding up his Vid-PDA he said, “I have some other things I need to attend to . . .” “Hey Go-cho (Corporal),” interrupted Natasha as she waltz through the door. “The Kishis are scheduled from some sim time in the next thirty or so minutes. Why don’t you fill in for Hojuhei (Recruit) Blanchard and help us put the ‘Noob’ here through his paces.” With a mischievous glint in his saphhire eyes, Go-cho (Corporal) Gerald glanced down at his chronometer and answered, “Yes, I’d imagine that I could spare some time to break Takei in good and proper. Give me just a moment and I’ll meet the three of you down there. Boot up the Force recon simulation. I’d like to test Hojuhei (Recruit) Oka reaction to ‘Broken Arrow’.” WORD COUNT 1001 Name: Gerald Brand Callsign: ‘Scratch Proof' Rank: Go-cho (Corporal) Hardware: Hatamoto-Ku HTM-60W-UK Company: Ronin Legion Lance: Fire Dragon Assignment: Guard Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #08 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Al Na'ir Province Dieron Gaspar Guanajuato Salamanca Tatsuyama Mountains Dragon's Roost Simulator Room 4th November 1400pm 3092 Hojuhei Takei ‘Turbo’ Oka lost track of how much time had elapsed since he left his home on Rasalgethi, to embark on his new career as a mercenary battle armor pilot. The travel between star systems is instantaneous; thanks to the Kearny-Fuchida jump drives. It was all that down time, waiting for the JumpShip batteries to recharge . . . Takei felt it was a classic case of 'hurry up and wait'. Takei learned in transit that he was being assigned to the Razan’s Ronins Battalion. Good outfit, he’d heard. For some reason, his original assignment to the Chaos Incorporated Mercenary Unit didn't pan out. Shit happens, he thought. Upon arrival to Dieron, Takei was met by an assault ‘Mech pilot, Go-cho Gerald Brand of the Ronin’s Legion Company. He checked his noteputer earlier, and found out he was formerly a Rasalhauge Militia Regular. Dishonorably discharged at that. Lovely. Just phukking lovely. Wouldn't surprise me if he knew, or knew of my mother. But then, Mutti was retired; I doubt the freak birth would even deign to acknowledge her. Takei, however, knew when to shut up. Putting out his hand, he greeted his Razan’s Ronin’s contact. "Good afternoon, Go-cho Brand." Takei still didn't whether to say 'sir' or 'corporal'. Play it by ear. Riding with the Go-cho in a HMMWV -- a term, Takei learned, came from 20th century Terra lore -- he found out that his battalion commander was Tai-sa Tanaka ‘Iceman’ Kintaro, and his new squad commander was Go-cho Natasha 'Cha-Cha' Stetson of the Light Battle Armor Section. Takei quietly speculated if his new unit was, well, Amazon in nature. Shut up, ‘Turbo’. Upon arrival at the barracks, Takei met his other two squad mates, Shujin Boris 'Poindexter', and Heishi Joy 'Ivy' Winn. Takei further discovered the unit’s TO&E: ‘Cha-Cha’ piloted the lead Kishi armor, ‘Poindexter’ was the hand-to-hand combat specialist, and ‘Ivy’ was accurate to a millimeter with the Kishi’s heavy machine gun. And Takei's claim to fame? He found out he's getting a 750 kg Kishi Ceremonial Armor Suit, a byproduct of the design and testing process that produced the Clan Nova Cat Thunderbird. The Kishi was ideal for urban operations and the standard configuration of the suit gave it an edge over opponents when engaged in close-combat situations; it was also popular for the layer of compact memory foam that lined each suit, allowing the user to operate his or her suit for extended periods in comfort and thereby making the Kishi more suitable for extended operations. Protected by a third of a ton of reflective armor, the Kishi suits were capable of making swarm and leg attacks as well as being mechanized. A mechanical jump booster propels the suit up to 30 meters. Where the hell did they get these Nova Cat suits from? Takei thought. Then he remembered that Clan Nova Cat and the Draconis Combine tete a tete a few years back. But then he recalled hearing that Clan Diamond Shark had some. Merchants. Clanners with Steiner blood. Takei started collecting his gear, when Go-cho Stetson suggested the Go-cho Brand join them in the simulators. Time to find out if he has what it takes to be a Razan’s Ronin . . . LATER Takei was excited about going up against his commanders in combat, even if it was only simulated combat. Walking over to the simulators, Takei climbed inside his, knowing that every thing he experienced here will be almost the same as in his actual Armor. Almost. Even down to the security sign in. "Pilot, identify yourself," the disembodied voice said into the ear of his Kishi battle armor helmet. Takei knew about this system, standard everywhere in the Inner Sphere, the Periphery . . . everywhere. "Hojuhei Takei Oka, callsign ‘Turbo’," he replied. Two chirps and a beep later . . ."Name and voice identification confirmed. Security phrase, please." While the name and voice ID would allow him to move his Armor -- something that even his tech could do -- the security phrase, specific to Takei alone, would allow him full use of the weapon systems. "Look into the eyes of the Norse Dragon and despair." The code was locked in. "Confirmed. Armor now operational. Good Luck in battle, ‘Turbo’." Takei looked to see what he was up against. Go-cho Gerald and Go-cho Stetson, aka ‘Scratch Proof’ and ‘Cha-Cha’, were both piloting 750 kg KAGE Suits, ‘Scratch Proof’ in a KAGE C, ‘Cha-Cha’ a KAGE Gauss Rifle. Takei was not familiar with their loadouts, or how they differed from the standard KAGE Suits. Gunjin Boris and Heishi Winn, ‘Poindexter’ and ‘Ivy’, were both in 500 kg Grey Death Scout Armor. And now . . . BATTLE!! Takei and his 2000 kg Kanazuchi Assault Battle Armor started on flat terrain, next to some light woods. To his right was a road, leading north. Directly ahead was a hill. To his left was open water. There were a couple of islands further on, linked by the road. He knew the Scout Armor could go across the water, and maybe even the hills, though the woods could play hell with their jump jets. The two KAGE Suits could cross water by walking on the floor -- or jumping across, if they had jump jets like the standard models. Takei moved forward, and exercised some cover and concealment by positioning himself in a stand of trees. Quickly he detected the two Grey Death Scouts – ‘Ivy’ on his left, coming in over the water, ‘Poindexter’ following the road. Gunjin Boris commenced hostilities by firing his Magna Laser Rifle, missing Takei and hitting the trees. Go-cho Gerald blasted away with his anti-mech grade small laser, also missing. Takei returned fire on ‘Poindexter’ with a medium laser, also a miss. Takei continued moving forward to the next wooded area; he detected ‘Ivy’ and ‘Poindexter’ moving in behind him. Both Grey Death Scouts fired their Magna Laser Rifles, and both hit. The simulator told Takei he lost armor to his center and left side area. He returned fire on ‘Ivy’. No joy. No pun intended. Pesky Scouts! The Grey Death Scouts took their shots again, both missing. Go-cho Gerald -- ’Scratch Proof’ -- let loose with his small laser, rocking Takei's world with a solid hi to the center mass of his assault armor. Takei responded by firing at the Scouts. The medium laser scored a hit on ‘Poindexter’ -- a critical hit, in fact. The shot immobilized him. ‘Ivy’, however, felt the brunt of ‘Turbo's wrath, when an SRM round from his Holly Derringer short range missile launcher nailed her and sent her to simulated la-la land. ‘Scratch Proof’ slammed Takei with another small laser beam hit to the center of his chest armor, and also fired off some Streak Short Range Missiles, which missed. Takei took another hit at ‘Poindexter’, ringing his chimes with a critical to his shoulder. Takei centered his SRM launcher on ‘Scratch Proof’, hit him in his left side with a HEAP round. HAH! Take that, Rasalgethian! But Takei himself was rocked, when ‘Poindexter’ got a Magna Laser Rifle hit from behind, as well as a hit with his side arm. ‘Scratch Proof’ responded with a small laser hit to the right arm, and 2 SRM's to Takei's chest plate -- now almost out of armor -- and a follow up small laser to his right side. Things were not looking too good for the ‘Turbo’. Takei's arms, and thus his medium laser, were pretty much toast, but he still had his carbine. Pesky ‘Poindexter’ was still hitting with his Magna Laser Rifle to Takei's left leg. ‘Scratch Proof's small laser scored on the Kanazuchi left side again, but those ‘Cha-Cha’ Tsunami Gauss Rifle slug did the telling blow: She fired twice and both hit center mass, destroying his armor and damaging his power supply feeds, and three more stripping away the left side armor. Takei replied with a pray and spray carbine shot to ‘Scratch Proof’, stripping away armor in several locations. Both of Takei's SRM score cluster hits on ‘Scratch Proof’, eventually breeching his armor on its left side. ‘Poindexter’, who can't take a hint and die, scored Magna laser hits -- even one to the head! ‘Cha-Cha’ made herself known, and missed. ‘Scratch Proof’ rips another small laser hit that washed all along the Kanazuchi’s right side. Feeling a bit overmatched, Takei decided to un-ass the AO. He moved to leave . . .and fell, damaging his left manipulator and his carbine. Not off to an auspicious start, ‘Turbo’. WORD COUNT 1484 Name: Orvald Kress Callsign: ‘Doomguide’ Rank: Go-cho Hardware: Rokurokubi RK-4X Company: Ronin Legion Lance: Dragon Claw Assignment: Point Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #09 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Al Na'ir Province Dieron Gaspar Guanajuato Salamanca Zone 23 Red Light District 5th November 3092 23:15pm Local Time It was raining again Nashiro noticed as she turned her attention to the balconies glass doors, but then again it was the rainy season on Dieron so it tended to rain a great deal whether one noticed it or not, and in all honesty she could not even recall much of the past few days with much in the way of clarity. A season of perpetual gloom coupled with the unending glow of neon tended to distort one’s sense of time and reality beyond all ability to tell day from night. Of course the drugs she had indulged in didn’t help in the matter of clear thinking on her part but then again that was the point of indulging, wasn’t it? And beyond alcohol and pain medication she wasn’t one to indulge too often. Smirking to herself at the thought, Nashiro’s gaze drifted beyond the one-way glass of the Balcony doors to the red light district beyond. The streets glowing neon light filled with both natives and off-worlders; dressed in all manner of attire. From corporate approved regulars sporting company jumpsuits wearing approved logos to the familiar uniform of Mercenaries, proudly displaying their unit’s badges and rank insignia. The whole of their attentions fixed on chaotic mix of sex shops and massage parlors, or the high class doll houses that made up a majority of the industry that Zone 23 was best known for. And if the brightly lit neon whore houses were not to taste, or perhaps just beyond the budget of your local laborer, there were always the side streets and back alley’s where the lower castes of non-union girls and boys tended to linger. Selling favors at easily negotiable prices to do or submit to whatever acts could earn them the most Ryu in the shortest span of time. Not that such things were approved of here by your internal security forces but then again most turned a blind eye to such things when it proved good for business. Watching the comedy of life play out beyond the reflective glass, Nashiro simply smirked to herself as her companion drew nearer, lifting the pipe to her lips, inhaling deeply, then drawing her fingers lightly through Nashiro’s hair; pressing them near enough that her neon blue lips pressed against the dark crimson stain of Nashiro’s own mouth, to exhale the numbing vapors of synthetic opium between her parted lips. “Li?“ Yuu inquired softly as she drew away her fingers that had teased the dark strands of Nashiro’s hair. “Yoi dekita.” Nashiro responded, offering a warm smile as she nodding her agreement. Yuu returned the smile nodding. “Sugu owaru,“ she responded in fluent Japanese. Dazed slightly in the drug induced haze, Nashiro rested her cheek against the cool glass as she looked on. Yuu roseto her feet, collected a bottle of dermal gel from her belongings and poured the clear lotion into her open palm. Nashiro lifted her arms and rested her palms against the glass as her companion’s fingers drew lightly across her back, tracing long arcs across her still sensitive skin. Yuu’s reach drifted around Nashiro’s upper body until her soft hands cupped around the fullness of Nashiro’s breasts. Yuu rubbed the cool gel over Nashiro exposed skin. Her fingers teasing just long enough to prompt arousal before drawing away again to collect the thin metallic shaft of laser-needle and focused again on her task. The beam flashing in rapid succession marking into her flesh with neo-luminous blue ink that glowed a fantastic color in the soft glow of the room. “How does it look …“ Nashiro mused softly, her gaze catching Ryan’s as he continued to look on with a mixture of fascination and horror as the tattoo had taken shape on blank canvas of her shoulders and back. “Its … Its amazing.“ Ryan offered as he looked on from his seat a short distance away. Nodding his approval, his expression betrayed a number of emotions as he watched the artist at work. “When you said you were getting a new tattoo I had no idea you meant the whole …“ He paused clearly at a loss for words regarding what had been done. He motioned with the hand that held the stub of a cigarette resting lazily between his fingers as his other hand drifted lazily through the long dark stands of hair of the girl that had kept him amused these past few evenings while Yuu focused on her work. The girl for her part pouted her annoyance at the lack of attention, whispering sweetly into his ear demanding more of his affections. Nashiro almost laughed at the playful display but knew it was only an act. The girl reclining between Ryan’s naked thighs was a high priced, euro-east, genetically engineered, import from god knew where. She was an expensive import without saying, with features so exotic that it shamed the original race of which she was modeled … her lines so clean and perfect, her dark almond eyes erotic almost seductive even to the female of the sex and yet too perfect to be real. That was the way of things in this day and age. More real than real, more exotic then imagination, none were spared it seemed in this age of artificial perfection. That said, she did her job well and kept Ryan amused and out of Nashiro's hair awhile and out of way while Yuu concentrated on her art work. “Yuu is the best …” Nashiro offered in a soft tone as her companion worked her magic with the needle. “ We’ve been friends since forever. You have no idea how hard it was to get her to come out to get this done for me. Travel papers for outside of the Combine are a bitch and a half to get processed for Artists like her. ” Yuu laughed softly, drawing another breath from the pipe, exhaling a thick cloud into the already misty air before continuing her work. Nashiro then closed her eyes as her mind worked through the details of faded abstracts and prose, her life forgotten for a time if not forever. “I can’t believe you talked me into this …” Ryan’s said as his free hand teased the euro-east, imported girl’s hair. “ … four days. Honestly, I was jealous at first but Kiko here cured me of that right off.” Nashiro smiled warmly nodding her agreement. “ She’s talented I’ll give her that.” She mused softly. “I told you it would be an experience not to be forgotten ….“ Ryan’s nodded his agreement as his fingers continued to play with Kiko’s hair. “Still, I would have liked to spend a little more of our leave time with just the two of us.“ He admitted. “I hadn’t thought we’d be apart to long during our tour on Saffel. I swear that one just went on and on forever.“ Nashiro nodded her understanding, but said nothing, letting Yuu continue uninterrupted. Ryan paused then sighed softly. “Word out of Hanaori is that the Tai-sa is planning for something big. My buddies in the security arm are saying that she’s already dividing up the ranks into mission packages and that our legal reps have entered talks to support three maybe four different contacts. Word is you’ve already been tagged for an assignment.“ “Shhhhh …“ Nashiro sounded off, refusing to open her eyes.”Don’t ruin the last day of my leave by bringing up the subject of Mission Tasking and Profile Assignments. I have enough shit to worry about prior to going back on duty tomorrow evening.” “Nomi-ga tarinari,“ Kiko whispered the soft interruption as she collectied a bottle from the tableside. She slipped into his embrace. Her small hands teasing his nipples as she poured a measure of the liquor onto his naked chest. Her lips following after with feather like kisses, coupled with the length of her tongue tracing lines across his flesh. Ryan gave a sharp gasp of surprise a moment later as the girl boldly lowered herself into his lap. Her hands took hold of his short cropped hair and drawing him between her ample breasts. Nashiro opened her eyes to watch in amusement at the display. A hint of a smile touching her lips as a soft laugh escaped her. “Tanoshii-ne, Shiro?” Yuu offered as she too smirked pausing just long enough to take in the sight of the pair. “So-data ii-ne.“ Nashiro laughed nodding her agreement. Word Count: 1,466 Name: Torii Nashiro Callsign: ‘Nemesis’ Rank: Tai-sa Hardware: Koroshiya KOS-1A Squadron: Ice Dragon Lance: Dragon Flight Assignment: DropShip Escort Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #10 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Al Na'ir Province Dieron Gaspar Guanajuato Salamanca Tatsuyama Mountains Dragon's Roost Hanaori Palace TR6 Small Arms Training Range 8th November 3092 10:30am Local Time “I’m not saying that … “ Nashiro frowned, drawing her sidearm and taking aim on the advancing target down range. “What I’m saying is that the boy has a solid flying record, you can’t judge his ability based off of poor classroom performance reports.“ Pulling the trigger she fired off three rounds in rapid succession, the first two taking the simulated attacker in the head, the third in the shoulder sending the target spiraling to the ground where it faded from view after a few brief moments. Onishi for her part frowned shaking her head, hissing her disapproval. “I swear you keep bringing your average range score down with that third shot,” She said changing the subject. Nashiro simply shrugged. “I’m a firm believer in the principle of guidance fire. Sure, it’s likely I killed the bastard with the first two rounds but he’s still charging. And most approved battlefield energy and projectile based weapons have no stopping power; so he stands to cover at least another three to six meters in a charge. Soooo its possible that he might still reach me. If he’s packing an explosive charge I’d be dead. Thus the third shot to redirect his approach away from me.“ The buzzer sounded to announce the next target, Nashiro quickly bringing her weapon level and firing another three rounds at a target moving across her field of vision. “I still think you’re wasting ammo.” Onishi interjected. Nashiro sighed knowing this was a debate that could and likely would go on forever, but as was typical of their exchanges, neither she nor Onishi were inclined to bend. “Ammo’s designed to be wasted.” Onishi snorted her amusement, motioning the range supervisor to calculate the range score. “Anyways … If you think that boy is worth the trouble you can have him. You say the word and I’ll sign the transfer papers tonight and you can assign him to whatever flight you feel like. If not I’m gonna wash his ass out.“ Nashiro nodded. “I’ll take him, If he proves to be as bad as you think I’ll off load his ass on the next available rock … No questions asked.” “It’s done then. “ Onishi said nodded her agreement. That said the look on her face however suggested that the exchange was far from over and a more serious topic remained to be addressed. ”My turn.” Nashiro nodded stepped down from the motion grid allowing Onishi to take up position. “What do you know about name Sathen Sakamoto ?” Nashiro found herself unprepared for the question, a brief cold silence following as she realized that her hand had drifted to her sidearm, her palm resting on the grip. “Tai-sa Sakamoto, you mean?” Onishi nodded, her focus thankfully remaining down range. “I know the name… “ Nashiro said at last, thankful that Onishi wasn’t watching as she moved her hand away from her gun. “What’s your opinion about him?” Onishi pressed giving no sign that she noticed anything. Frowning to herself and clearly uncomfortable regarding the line of questioning, Nashiro could only shrug her shoulders and take a deep breath before she spoke.“He’s a total head case or so I have heard through my contacts back home. The official profile identifies him as a sociopathic hardliner who specializes in urban warfare and civilian population control and pacification. From what I have heard he tends to act in a manner considered extreme even by some of our …” She paused then correcting herself. ”… the more radical military leaders of the Draconis Combine. That said they still employ him and those like him because if they didn’t focus these men’s homicidal tendencies, they could very easily be redirected against the Combine itself by outside interests. “ Nashiro collected her towel from the bench and used it to wipe the sweat from her face and hands. Turned her attention back to the range, “Why the sudden interest if you don’t mind my asking? “ “Word from the top … “ Onishi commented still not bothering to look away from the targets that raced back and forth across the grid. “Word is that the Tai-shu has agreed to forward our Ronins to support some operation in the Free World’s Invasion Corridor.“ “I thought we were already committed to that contact that had been proposed by the DCPS liaisons office?“ Nashiro wondered aloud. Onishi only shrugged firing off another two rounds before turning to exit the motion grid. “Change of plans I guess. The Tai-shu is already reassigning elements to the contract and you were tagged for the contract specifically.” Onishi motioned to the range supervisor to calculate the final scores cursing sharply as the scores where at last displayed. “I don’t see what you have to complain about … “ Nashiro smirked extending her hand collecting the C-bill’s Onishi produced from her pocket. “You’re still an A level marksmen and you scored well enough to rank in the top-10 percent.” Onishi rolled her eyes in annoyance releasing the belt and holster from around her hips. “Does a whole lot of good if you still score higher.” Nashiro only shrugged releasing the buckle of her own web-belt. “You did fine Tai-sa, I just have more practice when it comes to killing people up close and personal is all.” Word Count: 946 Name: Torii Nashiro Callsign: ‘Nemesis’ Rank: Tai-sa Hardware: Koroshiya KOS-1A Squadron: Ice Dragon Lance: Dragon Flight Assignment: DropShip Escort Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #11 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore Platinum City Fort Hallik Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Mission Planning Cell 11th January 3093 13:50pm Local Time Tai-sa Torii ‘Nemesis’ Nashiro paused briefly waiting for the command holographic display to cycle through the displayed data. “Continuing ... With Dromini VI and other Logistical supply lines unable to sustain them it’s clear at this point that the Draconis Combine Admiralty has no chance of holding either Sabik or Draconis Combine for any prolonged period. With the introduction of Sathen Sakamoto to the over all equation, I believe what we are looking at is the early stages of a strategic withdrawal from these two systems.“ Nashiro had the system cycle through the profiles of several prior battles to punctuate the trend that she was trying to make the audience aware of. “Traditionally for the sake of appearances the Combine has made it policy for leadership to fight it out to the last man. The reality in most cases, however; is that more often than not, military leadership tends to pull a kind of bait and switch ploy by covering the withdrawal of key personnel and critical assets with a massive force build-up. This serves a two-fold objective of pushing non-critical assets to the front lines in an effort to demoralize the enemy and at the same time martyring that large number of surplus personnel to reinforce the moral of both civilian and military populations via the propaganda generated by the heavy loss of life.” “Sakamoto is a specialist in what is classified as the alternative combat doctrine. His role here will most likely be to oversee the training of sleeper agents and cell networks tasked to carry out covert attacks versus enemy assets in order to stall or hinder any further push into Combine Territories once these two systems have been taken.” “I’m not sure where you’re going with this Tai-sa.“ The unfamiliar voice of one of the force commanders injected over the audio channel. “The question here is how are we planning to capture him and the key support personnel attached to him?” Nashiro frowned her annoyance having been warned prior to the mission briefing that a small number of the other force commanders resented that she had been named for this mission. Sighing softly she motioned again to the Command display. “I will explain . . . . Sathen Sakamoto’s job, by its nature, will set him apart and isolate him from your standard Military Command chain. At the same time the operation will still demand a rather sizable logistical support network. What we will be looking for will be a fairly large training facility that, while obviously military in nature, will not bare any of the telltale features that would associate it with the current military framework in place. In point of fact, it will be most noticeable because it will appear from all outward appearances to go unnoticed by the current Combine Forces already in place. That is the 15th Dieron Regulars and 24th Dieron Regulars. It will be both isolated and yet near enough to a key population center so that when the command is given these cells will be able to depart from the facility and disperse into the planets civilian population undetected.” “I’m still not seeing what you’re getting at Tai-sa.” The voice injected again. “Put simply, at the onset we will be hard pressed to find our target, but given the impression that this is the early stages of an atypical heavy handed Combine Offensive, Sakamoto will need to withdraw to the training facility to issue the go order in person. Given the nature of the Combine psychology the command in this case will need to be given in person ... Not remotely nor via a proxy. And it is within that brief window he will be in a location that we can guarantee either his capture or death.” Nashiro paused allowing what she said to sink in. “What the Razan’s Ronins’ plan purposes is that the Ronins stage the illusion of an invasion outright by using our aerospace assets to hit critical assets in the initial hours, crippling both military and civilian communications grids. We’ll follow these up with strikes against random high value public targets to set the ball rolling as it were. Chu-i Karen Tsang will at this same time be able to deploy advanced assets planet side to stage strikes against critical command and control personnel and force them to ground. Ideally Sakamoto will believe this to be the advance invasion force and will be forced to relocate to the Training Facility to issue the Go Command to his agents. That is when we will close the net and rather than waste ourselves on pointless engagements with planetary defense forces we will drop the hammer on the facility and his troops, taking out both the brain and the heart of his operation in one action.” “And what if you’re wrong Tai-sa? What if Sakamoto doesn’t act as you have foreseen?” The commander inquired. “Then sir . . . “ Nashiro stated snapping her briefing folder closed. “I would recommend that Razan’s Ronins pull out and get the phuk out of the system; because at the point and time we lose the advantage of surprise. And if we fail to capture Sakamoto and his support personnel, we’ll stand to lose almost 58% of the deployed force on the ground and likely another 30% during the withdrawal; because once Sakamoto has the advantage, I and every officer in a command position will be as good as dead.” Nashiro allowed her words to sink in before concluding the briefing. “I have laid out the initial engagement strategy coupled with force and manning recommendations. Feel free to review and provide feedback as needed. If there are objections or disagreements with my observations I would direct you to voice them through the appropriate chain of command.“ Word Count: 1020 Name: Torii Nashiro Callsign: ‘Nemesis’ Rank: Tai-sa Hardware: Koroshiya KOS-1A Squadron: Ice Dragon Lance: Dragon Flight Assignment: DropShip Escort Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #12 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore 150km Outside Platinum City Mission AO 26th January 3093 02:15am Local Time A cold hand grabbed Go-cho Natasha ‘Cha-Cha’ Stetson as she fell from the Oo-Suzumebachi, wrapping itself around her throat and squeezing tightly. Her heart jumped in her chest, and she felt her eyeballs freeze over. She was breathing oxygen from a small bottle strapped to the side of her Kishi Ceremonial armor . . . a necessity when jumping from 35,000 feet . . . but even her lungs felt as if they had turned to ice. “Looking good,” yelled Tai-sa Tanaka ‘Iceman’ Kintaro over the short-burst radio link inside their helmets they were using to communicate. Hojuhei Takei ‘Turbo’ Oka and Gunjin Boris had gone out first. Natasha’s unfamiliarity with the procedure had cost the second pair a few extra seconds, which at four hundred knots translated into nearly two miles. And counting. Between the wind howling around her and the tight helmet, Kintaro’s words sounded more like “luck of gold,” and it took a few seconds for Natasha to decipher what he was talking about. By the time she figured it out, the Oo-Suzumebachi Class small craft she’d jumped out of had disappeared. Natasha struggled to get her body into the “frog” position she’d learned nearly two years before at the DEST Airborne school. Since that time, she’d made no more than two dozen jumps, only three of which had been high altitude, high-opening forays like this one, and none had been at night. Everybody said it would be easy . . . her body would remember how to do it once she stepped out of the small craft . . . but the only thing her body remembered was how cold it had been … not half as cold as this time. Kintaro, arms spread and legs raised as if he were a miniature aircraft, zoomed toward her. On the left side of his HUD he had a small altimeter, which had a sound alert wired into his helmet’s earset. On his right he had a GPS device that looked like a miniature compass. An arrow dominated the display, showing the direction to their destination and a countdown of the mileage. Tanaka switched his visor’s goggles from lowlight to full night vision as there was virtually no moon light out tonight. The Oo-Suzumebachi had been going nearly four hundred knots when they jumped out, which meant they were, too. Their trajectory to the landing zone had been calculated before takeoff, then tweaked ever so slightly a few minutes before the jump to account for the wind. “Let her rip,” he told Natasha, the altimeter buzzing in his ear as they fell through 30,000 feet. Natasha’s first tug on the handle was too tentative, and the parafoil failed to release. But her interpretation of the problem was that she wasn’t in the proper position . . . true enough, as it happened, though this had nothing to do with the parafoil deploying . . . and she struggled to push her head downward and get her arms out before trying again. As she did, something whipped by and tapped her on the head. It was Kintaro. Worried that she was having problems, he shaped his body into a delta to gain speed in her direction, then flared out to slow down. He misjudged his speed slightly in the dark as he pulled close and rather than paralleling her, he flew past her. He recovered, sailing to the left and then back around, inching forward. It felt like inching. In fact he was moving at over a hundred miles an hour. “We have to pull now,” he yelled into the radio. “We’re getting off course. Hey! Hey! You ready? Ready?” Natasha thought Kintaro was the one having trouble, and she started to maneuver toward him. “Pull” said Kintaro, motioning at her. She reached to the handle and yanked, feeling the gentle tug of her harness as the parafoil unfolded above her. And now it really was like they said it would be: her arms moved up as she took stock of the parafoil and herself, making sure the cells had inflated properly and orienting herself with the aid of a GPS device inside her helmet and slightly off to the right side. She was back in control, or at least as much in control as anyone being held up in space by engineered nylon could be. Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore 150km Outside Platinum City Mission AO 26th January 3093 02:20am Local Time Boris reached the bluff overlooking the complex ahead of ‘Turbo’. He lay down the bike and increased the amplification on his night optical visor inside his Kishi armor, which looked like a very thick piece of a windshield. The wrap around glasses combined generation four infrared and starlight enhancement technology with electronic magnification to a factor of ten. While not as powerful as the new gen four devices being tested by DEST Special Forces units, the visor’s light weight was more than fair compensation; they were more than powerful enough to illuminate the rocky desert terrain below. Boris could see a warren of “rabbit” holes and days old tracks through the gritty soil. The holes were the entrances to tunnels used by Free Draconis Combine Mutineers, who used them to avoid the burgeoning loyal government’s surveillance aircraft and patrols. “What’d you do, tune the bike?” ‘Turbo’ asked, walking up next to Boris. “Less wind resistance.” Boris rested his right hand on his Rorynex as he surveyed the desert. While the fewer than ten thousand Dieron Regular troops still stationed in Bangalore were concentrated near Platinum City and the northern fields, Boris figured the Draconis Combinens and certainly the Dragon could stop the Free Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested Mutineers if they really cared to. But smuggling goods to the Mutineers was a lucrative business, especially for the local commanders who averted their eyes. “We can put the main post down in those caves. Watch the complex from here,” Boris told ‘Turbo’. “Let’s go mark a landing spot for the Draconis Combine Special Weapons and Tactics Team.” “Shouldn’t we wait for ‘Iceman’?” “He knows where we are.” Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore 150km Outside Platinum City Mission AO 26th January 3093 02:25am Local Time Natasha stepped forward as the ground finally came up to her legs. She twisted slightly and crumpled to the ground as she landed, falling on her side. It wasn’t pretty, but at least she was down. She got up, expecting Kintaro to fall on top of her any second. Gathering in her parafoil, she looked around for a convenient place to hide it. Ten yards away a small collection of boulders huddled together on the ground. That would do. With the parafoil stuffed between the rocks, she took stock of her situation, checking her position with her Kishi Suit’s intergral GPS device. Their rendezvous point was about five miles away, on a ridge overlooking the nearby valley. She was supposed to hit no farther than a mile away. It was an inauspicious start to her first real mission with the team. She knew Kintaro only by reputation. Depending on whom you talked to, he was either easy to get along with or the biggest SOB in the Inner Sphere, but everybody agreed he was driven; he’d probably be mad that she had fallen so far away. Natasha checked the team frequency, then decided it would be better not to call in until she was a little closer. Trudging in the direction of the rendezvous area, she’d gone about a quarter of a mile when a rich baritone echoed in her headset. “Oh come tell me, Sean O’Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.” “‘Iceman’?” she said. “I’ve got orders from the Major,” sang Kintaro, “for the pikes must be together, by the rising of the moon.” Natasha dropped to one knee, scanning three hundred and sixty degrees around her. The only thing nearby were rocks. “Where are you?” she said. “‘Iceman’?” The sound of a motor in the distance made her freeze. She brought her Rorynex submachine gun up. “’Iceman’?” “Yee-hah!” he shouted over the radio. Natasha whirled in time to see the shadow of a Ceres-Bike, a Flashbang ZZ10000 motorcycle, fly over the rise behind her. The bike had two very large mufflers at its side to dampen its engine sound. “Kintaro,” she said. “You’re expecting someone else?” he asked, skidding down the hill. “How did you get down so fast?” “Hop on. The bikes landed back on the other side of the hill. I just about tripped over them when I came down. Good thing you took your time going out; we would have been all night finding them.” Word Count 1509 Name: Tanaka Kintaro Callsign: ‘Iceman’ Rank: Tai-sa Hardware: DEST Suit Platoon: Heavy Jump DEST Response Squad: Command Assignment: Infiltration Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #13 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore 150km Outside Platinum City Mission Base Camp & LZ 26th January 3093 04:15am Local Time Two hours later, Kintaro watched as a Ronin large Trireme VTOL skimmed across the desert terrain toward the chemical glow light Boris had placed to guide it. The chopper shook the desert as it rumbled a few feet over the terrain, flying low to avoid the Free Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested Mutineers’ radars to the west. The VTOL’s immense blades kicked a sandstorm around it as it flew. Kintaro shielded the visor of his Kishi Armor as the bird settled in. A company’s worth of Draconis Combine Local SWAT Team augmented by two PAB-28 PA(L) Battle Armored Sniper Suited veterans and a Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested Militia Global Intelligence Agency intelligence officer began emerging from the rear. The men and their equipment had been detailed to support the Razan’s Ronins Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested Expeditionary Combat Command, SECC , by the planetary governor Hasani Saadiq, providing on-ground security and extra eyes at their base of operations in the desert wilderness. Additional troops were on call to be used for the actual “snatch,” assuming conditions allowed. Kintaro watched for the Draconis Combine Militia GIA intelligence officer accompanying them. He wasn’t particularly hard to spot; more than twice the age of most of the soldiers, he walked with a nervous hop away from the VTOL, ducking even though it was unnecessary. “Fujita Morinaka?” yelled Kintaro when the man reached him. “Yes,” said the Draconis Combine GIA Intel Agent. “Tanaka Kintaro. Call me ‘Iceman’. Step into my office.” He motioned back to a run of rocks twenty yards away where he’d parked his bike. The landing area was about a quarter mile from the small caves and overhangs where they’d located their base camp. “You know Sakamoto?” Kintaro asked the Draconis Combine GIA Agent. “I saw him some years ago,” said Fujita, whose ears and bones still reverberated from the VTOL ride. He greatly preferred quieter modes of transportation, though he knew better than to mention this to the Mercenary; in his experience Mercenaries never found machines quite noisy enough. Fifty-three years old, Fujita had dealt with a number of Mercenaries over the years, beginning with his very early service as a glorified gofer and eavesdropper for the Internal Security Force Voice of the Dragon Information Gathering division. Stationed on Junction at the age of twenty-two, he had kept tabs on various expatriate movements and Kuritans: easy work, though the detailed weekly reports often took two or three days simply to write. By the War of Benjamin he had progressed to a liaison officer working with the ISF Covert Ops division. Out of favor for a while, he had been sent to the periphery into exile in the Ashiro Prefecture until just before the start of the 5th Succession War, when he worked on a group assigned to prepare for the defense of Yorii. After the war he found his way to the great sanctions shell game. For the first few months he helped locate evidence of banned weapons from weapons inspectors but soon turned to the more critical task of uncovering evidence of continuing programs for use by the Coordinator and keeping external enemies at bay. Fujita lay low in the Rimward Ashiro Prefecture after the second fall of the Star League until friends in the government convinced him to come to work with them. A brief job with a Mercenary contractor had renewed some of his ISF ties; eventually Fujita found himself back in service with the interior ministry’s security apparatus, serving as a liaison to “external services,” the latest euphemism in use by the ISF. “You think Sakamoto would go through one of the tunnels?” asked Kintaro, sitting on a rock near his motorcycle. “I thought he liked to travel in style.” “We all adapt,” said Fujita. Something about the Mercenary was very familiar. “All right.” Kintaro wasn’t sure if Fujita was parroting the intelligence report he’d seen or if he was its author. In his experience, the planetary intelligence people demonstrated a wide range of abilities, from extreme competence to extreme ineptitude. As a rule, the more confident they made themselves sound the less able they were. “So we watch for a car that meets him?” “Possible. It may be a wild goose chase.” “Not what I want to hear.” “You want the truth or what you want to hear?” said Fujita, who knew that the latter was almost always preferred, especially by Mercenaries. Putting the question bluntly sometimes saved problems and sometimes not. “Truth. Always.” Kintaro smiled at him. “But all truth is relative.” Fujita shrugged, though he did not agree; the Dragon’s truth was absolute, after all. “What we think will happen is that he’ll come across the plains on foot, get picked up and driven to one of the abandoned military camps northwest of here, where a conventional plane will meet him,” said Kintaro. “We’re going to stake out the camps so we can hit them when he’s there. On the other hand, he may just take a car all the way across the desert. If that happens, we take the car.” “What if you miss?” “Then we punt. We find out where he’s going, and we try to get him there. Problem is, we’re not sure where he’s going. Unless you are.” “There are so many rumors about Sakamoto you can make something up, and it is just as likely to be true.” “We think tomorrow night,” said Kintaro. “What do you think?” Fujita could only shrug. “Can you ride a motorcycle?” “Not well.” “You’re my passenger then. Come on.” Kintaro picked up the motorcycle. Fujita hesitated. He did not like motorcycles and had had several bad experiences with them. Word Count 990 Name: Tanaka Kintaro Callsign: ‘Iceman’ Rank: Tai-sa Hardware: DEST Suit Platoon: Heavy Jump DEST Response Squad: Command Assignment: Infiltration Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #14 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 27th January 3093 21:15pm Local Time Razan’s Ronins’ Gunjin Boris turned to the Draconis Combine GIA Agent and gestured at the car that had turned off from the highway. It rode across the open desert, approaching the foothill two miles away. “Is that for him?” “Who can tell? But the car is like the one that left from Passageway in the afternoon, an old Aston-Martin Fiver Traveler.” Just like a snake, thought Boris: never a straight yes or no. Thar was a small province southeast of the much larger province of Bangalore. Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested GIA intelligence officers there had prepared a list of half a dozen suspicious vehicles, all with single drivers. The theory was that the vehicle would go over alone and wait for Sakamoto to slip through, a practice often employed by criminals and others trying to escape the planet without documentation. The Aston-Martin would have been thoroughly searched before being allowed over the border. Two shadows came from the rocks. “You see a face?” asked Boris. Fujita shook his head. Boris looked over at ‘Turbo’, who was using his satellite radio system to talk to Chu-i Karen Tsang back in the Tempest Fury, the Ronin’s Gazelle class DropShip, up in Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested’s orbit. The radio had a “local” discrete-burst mode for short-range communications with other team members on the ground and a longer-range mode that used satellites to communicate. The latter was easier to detect; though the transmissions were encrypted and virtually unbreakable, the presence of the radio waves could lead someone to the user. “Where are we, ‘Turbo’?” asked Boris. “I just uploaded the video. They’re looking at it.” “What’s the UHD see?” Boris asked. A Boomerang drone, or “unmanned hover drone,” was hovering overhead, helping with the surveillance. It would follow the vehicle to a spot where it could be ambushed. “Nothing so far.” “Tell ‘Iceman’ what’s going on.” “Already have,” said ‘Turbo’. “Hold on,” said Boris. “There’s another car coming.” The trick was to let the Aston-Martin get far enough from the area so that any of the local members and Free Draconis Combine Mutineers spies nearby wouldn’t be tipped off but to not let it get so far away that they couldn’t stop it. With two cars, the task became more complicated, especially once the two vehicles got on the nearby road and headed in different directions. Kintaro and Natasha staked out the first car, which was moving northwest-ward; Boris and ‘Turbo’ followed the second, traveling two miles to the south. Just to make things even more interesting, a third car appeared soon after the second made its pickup. Two Draconis Combine SWAT Agents were detailed to follow that one, staying close enough to trail them but not take them unless ordered to do so by Kintaro. The first car took a turn off the highway onto a packed dirt road in the direction of a military outpost a few miles west of the area. The road wound around a series of dry streams, or wadis, and loose sand traps. Since they were on motorcycles, Kintaro, Natasha, and the two Draconis Combine SWAT Agents traveling with them were able to sprint ahead and check out the site. Kintaro sent the Draconis Combine SWAT Agents down the road to watch, in case his hunch about where the Aston-Martin was going proved wrong. As he and Natasha approached the camp, Fujita warned that a hover truck was parked in front of one of the buildings. The Draconis Combine GIA Agent had taken over for ‘Turbo’ and was watching the Boomerang’s video feed. The vehicle had not been there in the afternoon’s satellite snapshot. Kintaro and Natasha got off their bikes and went to scout the base. A low ridge sat to the south about a quarter mile from the fence. Standing at the top, Kintaro could see most of the base area. “There,” Kintaro told Natasha, pointing to the second building in the row. “You can just barely make out the shadow inside.” “How many people?” “At least two.” He pointed to the road beyond the complex. “Maybe they’re forming a caravan here. Or maybe waiting for a plane. You could land the Trireme VTOL on that road at the back there.” Kintaro dropped down, sliding to the bottom of the hill. They were no more than fifteen minutes ahead of the Aston-Martin; if they were going to take it here, they had to get a move on. “What we have to do is take out the guard by the gate, then the person or persons in the building,” Kintaro told Natasha. He took the heavy grenade launcher from his pack and stuffed a dozen plastic shells in his bandolier, which was already bulging with magazines for the Rorynex submachine gun. His armor compartments had anti-personnel, class-c, concussion and smoke ordinance, along with ammo for his pistol and slugs for his combat shotgun, which he had slung over his Kishi armor’s right shoulder. “Are we taking these guys prisoner or what?” asked Natasha. “Sakamoto’s the only one we have to apprehend alive,” said Kintaro. “But, yeah, we dunk these guys if we can. Have your gas filter enabled. Heavy Crossbow?” Natasha held up the primitive weapon, which was very similar to the type used by deer and other game hunters all across the Draconis Combine. A marriage between a miniature rifle and high-tech bow, the weapon fired a titanium arrow over fifty yards, was as accurate as a rifle at that range, and would send its missile like arrow through the side of a skull. It could also fire two different types of nonlethal ammunition: a syringe like dart with a fast-working anesthetic and a lollypop shaped hard plastic arrow that was supposed to stun someone struck with it. The anesthetic was related chemically to sodium pentothal, the barbiturate commonly known as truth serum. It worked even quicker though it left the subject feeling as if he or she had a full-body hangover. Natasha didn’t trust the lollypops and had left them back at the base camp. “Wait until I’m outside of the buildings if at all possible,” Tanaka told her. “But if you have to shoot, shoot. He doesn’t have a vest. Shoot at the chest.” Kintaro jogged to the west side of the base, taking advantage of the integral Infra-Red and electronic signal suppression system in the Kishi armored suit which duplicated the effect of a combination ECM and IR sneak suit near the fence, which obscured the view. He found a hole under the fence and crawled into the compound between the two warehouse buildings at the southern end of the compound. Natasha used a drainage ditch to cover her as she closed in on the guard. She found a brace of weeds thirty yards from the entrance and got into firing position. The guard, clearly bored, stood with his gun down against his leg. She took a grenade out just in case . . . no sense fooling around if she missed . . . and put her Rorynex submachine gun within easy reach. “Natasha, where are you?” hissed Kintaro in her ear. “Here,” she whispered. “Just tell me when.” Kintaro hunkered on his haunches. There was no sign that there were more people than the guard and the one whose shadow he’d seen in the large building to his right. The building had a window at the back; he was tempted to try and get in that way but decided it was too risky. Nor did he have anything to use to booby trap the exit. “Natasha?” “Yeah?” “After you take out the guard, I want you to get to the west side of the southern most building, all right? There’s a window there. You think you can cover it?” “Yeah, but . . . ” “No but. Wait until I’m ready if you can.” Natasha steadied the crossbow, zeroed in on the guard. She’d first used a bow when she was twelve years old, hunting with her father at his cabin on Cumberland. He was a detective back then, two years divorced from her mother, a much heavier drinker than now. She could feel his hand on her shoulder, gripping gently, his thumb pressing as the buck walked toward them in the field. The guard turned toward her. Suddenly he started to bring up his rifle. Natasha pulled the trigger on her crossbow. The weapon made a whispery thwang as it shot. She watched through the scope as the arrow struck the guard flat in the chest. He shook, stunned, not quite comprehending what had happened. Then he started to grab at the arrow, stopped, raised his gun again, then fell off to the side, knocked unconscious by the massive dose of synthetic narcotic in the tip. Kintaro heard Natasha’s heavy breathing over the radio and realized she’d just shot the guard. He moved up the side of the building, reached the corner, and glanced toward the front. He saw no one. He checked the heavy grenade launcher . . . he figured he would hit anyone coming out in the chest with the tear gas round, which would knock them down at very close range . . . then knelt on one knee to wait for Natasha. Natasha ran to the stricken guard, made sure he was down, then grabbed the dart and his rifle and went to the back of the building. Kintaro caught a glimpse of her as she ran. “Ready?” he asked. “Let me catch my breath.” “Not enough time. Use the gun if you have to. Enable your gas filter.” Without knowing exactly how the building was configured, Kintaro decided on a simple, two-step plan: tear gas grenade in window, then duck. Standard grenades needed about fourteen meters to arm; this was a precaution against the grenade going off too close to friendly troops. The arming mechanism in these rounds allowed them to explode as soon as they struck something. Kintaro rammed the metal butt end of the heavy grenade launcher through the window, breaking the glass. Then he pumped the round inside and grabbed his combat shotgun. A man emerged from the building; Kintaro fired point blank at the man, striking him in the chest, neck, and face with the plastic pellets in the shell. “ ‘Iceman’?” asked Natasha. “Watch the back, watch the back,” he yelled, reloading the grenade launcher and pumping another round inside the building before firing his jumpjets to land over near the man he’d shot, who was writhing on the ground. Though the shotgun pellets were plastic, he’d been so close to Kintaro that the round cut as well as bruised his face, and he wailed in pain, temporarily blinded. Kintaro put him temporarily out of his misery with a shot of Demerol. As he rose, he heard Natasha scream. WORD COUNT 1849 Name: Tanaka Kintaro Callsign: ‘Iceman’ Rank: Tai-sa Hardware: DEST Suit Platoon: Heavy Jump DEST Response Squad: Command Assignment: Infiltration Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #15 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 27th January 3093 21:20pm Local Time Natasha’s scream was followed by a steady rattle of gunfire from a KA-23 subgun, followed by a Rorynex’s sturdier whistle. ‘Iceman’ ran around the north side of the building, aiming to flank whoever had come out. “Natasha,” he said as he ran. “Where are you? Yo.” She didn’t answer. When he reached the back corner of the building he threw himself down, moving forward slowly on the ground. Something moved near the doorway. Natasha. She bent down, reaching for the doorknob. “What are you doing?” said Kintaro. “Duck!” she told him, flipping a grenade in through the crack and then firing her jumpjets back toward the berm ten meters away. She made it just as the grenade went off. Kintaro rose on armored legs and duck walked toward the doorway. Two men lay sprawled in the dirt nearby; a third had been killed inside the building by Natasha’s grenade. None of the men were Sakamoto. “Run up and cover the front of the building,” Kintaro told her. “You’re not going in, are you?” she asked. “Just get up there and make sure no one came out while we were playing around back here.” The interior of the building had been divided in half by a wall that ran only partway to the high ceiling. Except for the dead man and a few scattered cartons, the room at the back was empty. Kintaro moved inside as quietly as he could, then raised his heavy grenade launcher and pumped an anti-personnel ordinance of tear gas over the wall. He pulled up his combat shotgun, aiming it at the open doorway, then ran forward to the wall. Though he had a pretty strong suspicion that the front half of the building was empty, he rolled on the floor and crawled his way inside. A hundred boxes or more lined the wall on his left. The rest of the place was empty. The boxes were filled with brand name athletic shoes, according to the writing on the side. “Is this where Sakamoto is going?” asked Natasha when he came out. “I don’t know yet,” he told her. “Let’s go put down markers for the airborne guys and then hide.” “I’m sorry I had to shoot,” said Natasha. “Forget about it now. Come on. Their Aston-Martin should be about ninety seconds away.” Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 10 Clicks South by Southwest 27th January 3093 21:25pm Local Time Nearly ten kilometers to the south, Razan’s Ronins Modern Warfare DEST Operative Gunjin Boris stopped his bike in the desert and pulled out his mini tablet map from a compartment on his Kishi armor, correlating his position against the integral GPS device. He flipped the radio into satellite mode. “Fujita, is he still coming this way?” “Yes,” said the Draconis Combine GIA Agent. “Where’s he going?” asked the other Razan’s Ronins Modern Warfare DEST Operative, Hojuhei Takei ‘Turbo’ Oka. The two Draconis Combine SWAT Agents they’d taken with them pulled up behind them. “Maybe for that military airfield at the corner there,” said Boris. “Let’s move up the road to the intersection with the airport.” Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 27th January 3093 21:30pm Local Time Kintaro hid behind the hover truck, and Natasha crouched at the edge of the building as the battered Aston-Martin rounded the turnoff and headed for the complex. “You have the first guy out. I have the second,” said Kintaro. “Make sure that your helmet is sealed and that you turn on your filtration system. This gas is worse than CS by a factor of ten.” “No way.” “Way. Try it and see,” said Kintaro, readying the grenades. The Aston-Martin stopped alongside the hover truck. The two men inside made things easy by getting out at the same time. Thwack! Natasha’s crossbow landed in the driver’s left shoulder, where the plunger tip injected enough anesthetic to knock him senseless within three seconds. By then, Kintaro had knocked the second man to the ground with a plastic round to the head. He soft tossed a tear gas grenade into the car as he ran to the man, kicking away a fallen pistol. Though the man had been knocked unconscious by the blow, ‘Iceman’ injected a heavy dose of the sodium pentothal to keep him out. A fog of tear gas enveloped the area; Kintaro and Natasha had to pull the two men all the way to the fence before they were clear. Kintaro cursed when he lifted his Kishi’s helmet. Neither of the men in the Aston-Martin was Sakamoto. He took out a small vidcam to transmit the pictures back to Fujita. “I don’t know who they are,” Fujita said. “They may be with the Black Dragon Society, but most likely they are Free Draconis Combine Mutineers.” “The Mutineers sell athletic footwear?” asked Kintaro. “Maybe. It might have been stolen inside the Draconis Combine and stored there, to be sold elsewhere. The external agencies bring in goods and wares, and the scum steal it away.” “All right. We’ll get them picked up anyway. Where’s the third vehicle and what was it?” “A Saturnus. I do not think it belongs to the Black Dragons.” “Which would be why they would use it, no?” “I don’t think they are that clever.” “But I do,” said Kintaro. He pulled out his mini tablet map and propped it up on the hood of the hover truck to orient himself. As he did, Boris told him over the radio that the second Aston-Martin had just passed the airstrip. “We’re going to be too far behind now to catch him if he stays on the highway,” said Boris. Kintaro looked at the map. The highway headed southwestward for over a hundred miles before approaching civilization; there were few places on that stretch where it could turn off. The VTOL with the SWAT operations forces aboard could make it across the desert within a few minutes and get ahead of the car, but if they missed the ambush they wouldn’t get another shot. And Kintaro and Natasha would have to take the other car out by themselves. “I’ll have Deyama’s PA(L) Armored Sniper Suit Troopers set up an ambush down the road,” ‘Iceman’ told Boris. “Just keep following.” Word Count 1106 Name: Tanaka Kintaro Callsign: ‘Iceman’ Rank: Tai-sa Hardware: DEST Suit Platoon: Heavy Jump DEST Response Squad: Command Assignment: Infiltration Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #16 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore 10 Clicks South by Southwest 27th January 3093 21:35pm Local Time Sho-ko Deyama moved from the command area at the front of the SWAT’s specially equipped Cavalry TAG VTOL into the assault bay, where Gun-sho Rokuhara Maaka and a team of hand picked Razan’s Ronins Modern Warfare DEST and Draconis Combine SWAT soldiers were waiting to jump. “Buddha speed,” said Deyama, holding up his thumb. Maaka, about twenty feet away, signaled back. Deyama found a handhold and watched his people crowding toward the cargo ramp, eager to get into action. They were shadows in the unlit bay, and he tried to keep them that way, anonymous warriors; it made it more difficult to deal with problems if he thought of them as individuals with families and loved ones. Designed to fly through hostile territory at very low altitude to avoid radar, the VTOL used a satellite system to show its flight crew precisely where they were. The chopper banked and began to rise over the target area, a desolate curve in the highway the second Aston-Martin was taking. The men went out quickly, executing an extremely dangerous low-level drop, as if they were stepping off an amusement park ride back on Luthien. By the time the chopper banked north, the troops were on the ground, squaring away their parafoils. Deyama went back to his post. Modified from a stretched version of the Cavalry VTOL (officially, the TAG variant), the forward area of the SWAT’s VTOL was equipped with radio surveillance and communication gear similar to those used in the Cyclops CP 10-Z battleMech an Olmstead B-40 with a SatNav Module Communications System and a Tacticon B-2000 Battle Computer with a few of the links used by DEST squads thrown in for good measure. Deyama got on the radio to the two Trireme VTOLs that had been tasked for the pickup. The choppers were now airborne over Bangalore and were about twenty minutes from the way point. “We can hear a vehicle coming north,” said Maaka when he checked in. Deyama checked the image from the Boomerang drone. “That’ll be them. Get ready.” . . . Maaka crouched a few yards from the road as the Aston-Martin approached the curve. The trick wasn’t stopping the car; it was stopping the car without killing the people inside. The fact that his men had been on the ground for less than ten minutes made things even more interesting. Two Draconis Combine SWAT Go-chus took positions on the right flank of the road, aiming SRM weapons at the car. SRM stood for Short Range Missiles. The missile’s ordinance . . . known as a “AX” . . . was designed to disable tanks as well as lightly armored vehicles and built-up positions, replacing the LAW and AT-4. Essentially a modern version of the First Succession War-era bazooka, the stock weapon typically struck an armored target from the top rather than the side, guided by a laser range finder and a magnetic detector. The warhead normally consisted of two parts, an acid penetrator and a fragmentation grenade: the warhead would penetrate the outer shell of whatever was being attacked, and the grenade would kill whoever was inside. Maaka’s men were using a special DEST experimental version of the missile. Its titanium and steel warhead did not contain the highly corrosive acid. The idea was that the slug would destroy the front of the car and its engine, stopping it without killing the people inside. “Now,” said Maaka, ducking down. The missile made an unearthly hiss as it leapt from the shoulder of the weapons man. The car veered to the right under the blow, plowing to a halt across the road. As it skidded, a Razan’s Ronins KAGE trooper jumped up with what looked like a mortar in his hands. He sighted a red laser dot on the top of the car and squeezed the wide trigger at the base of the weapon. A large, blimp-shaped missile flew from the throat of the gun. The shell disintegrated in midair; by the time it hit the vehicle it had spread into a wide net. Two dozen miniature flash bang grenades exploded as it hit, the effect not unlike the finale of a massive fireworks display. As the air ripped with the explosions, two pairs of SWAT soldiers ran to the car. One man in each pair wielded a pointed sledgehammer, the other carried gas ordinance grenades. The back window and one of the side windows were walloped and the grenades inserted. “Team up! Team up!” yelled Maaka as smoke began pouring from the car. The eight battle armor troopers of the medium armor section from the Razan’s Ronin’s came forward, the four Raiden troopers armed with battle claws and the four Oni troopers armed with heavy vibro battle claws; they were covered at close range by four others in KAGE armor with more conventional weapons of war. One of the occupants of the vehicle had managed to open his door before being overcome by the gas. He was pulled down, secured under the netting. The team tore off the roof of the vehicle, cutting through the nylon mesh as well as the metal. “Go, let’s go!” said Maaka. He pulled up and snugged his helmet as the fumes surged from the car. “Do it! Get every one of them out.” By the time Boris got there, all of the men had been taken out and trussed. Two were unconscious, leaning against each other. One lay on the ground moaning. The last sat a few feet away from the others, staring sullenly into the night. None of the men looked remotely like Sakamoto. “Any papers?” Boris asked Maaka. “Nothing. Nothing in the car.” “Take their pictures. Let the Draconis Combine GIA Agent look at them.” Maaka squinted at him. It was the cross-eyed squint that Go-chu’s reserve for NCOs, even those on special assignments, who give them orders. Nonetheless, he told one of his men to do it. “How far off are the choppers?” Maaka asked. “Eighteen minutes,” said Boris. “We’ll hear them a good way out.” Word Count 1060 Name: Tanaka Kintaro Callsign: ‘Iceman’ Rank: Tai-sa Hardware: DEST Suit Platoon: Heavy Jump DEST Response Squad: Command Assignment: Infiltration Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #17 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 27th January 3093 21:40pm Local Time Kintaro decided the motorcycles were too far away to walk to, so he hot-wired the hover truck instead. Telling the two Draconis Combine SWAT Troopers he’d posted on the road to come in and watch the prisoners, he took off with Natasha to a spot where he thought he could intercept the third vehicle. Driving across the open terrain would have been difficult enough in the daytime, since it was pockmarked with boulders and sandpits, but at night without headlamps it was treacherous, which only made it more interesting. Kintaro had Natasha pull the satellite photos from his pack as he drove, trying to dodge the worst of the obstructions. They had more than two miles of hardscrabble to get through before reaching a road to the northwest. “Let me see that sat photo with this grid in it.” “It’s two satellite photos,” Natasha told him, reaching down to get them from the pack on the hover truck’s floor. “Point to where we are and where that other road is,” said Kintaro. “Here and here,” said Natasha. He took the photos and held them on the wheel for a second, then tossed them back. “All right. Let’s try this,” he said, pulling sharply off the road. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” “Friend of mine says that,” ‘Iceman’ told her. “You Catholic?” “What are you doing?” “Shortcut. You Catholic?” “Greek Orthodox, but I went to parochial school.” “Good thing that didn’t come up in the job interview,” said Kintaro. “Would’ve disqualified you as a fanatic.” “I heard you went to Catholic school yourself.” “That’s what I mean.” When he finally spotted the highway, Kintaro misjudged the depth of the ditch along the side of the road and nearly rolled the hover truck trying to veer onto the pavement. Natasha flew forward, barely keeping her unarmored head from slamming into the dashboard. Belatedly, she began fishing for the Kishi Ceremonial armor helmet. The Saturnus was behind them now, but with the road and terrain fairly open, Kintaro needed a strategic place to lay a trap. He’d spotted an intersection about three miles ahead on the map. He told Natasha they would put the truck in the middle of it as if it had broken down, then shoot out the Saturnus’s tires when it stopped to see what was going on. After that they’d use the crossbow and tear gas routine again. They were still about two miles from the intersection when a shadow loomed over the empty field to his right. Kintaro immediately cut the hover fans off. An airplane flying at very low altitude, no more than a few feet off the ground, passed over the roadway ahead. Kintaro jumped out of the car. “Son of a bitch.” “What?” “Look.” He pointed in the distance. “What?” “You see that?” “The airplane? Is it ours?” “Nah. It’s a little Quick Dart thing. Or some Kuritan spotter plane like a Boomerang.” The plane continued on a straight line to the west, twelve or so feet above the ground. “Back in the car,” said Kintaro, deciding they’d take the Saturnus anyway. “You really think that was Sakamoto?” asked Natasha. “Who else would be flying a plane at low altitude across the Sheen frontier?” “Dozens of people,” she told him. “Smugglers, drug dealers, some other Free Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested Mutineers scumbags we don’t know about.” “Nice try, but you’re not going to cheer me up,” said Kintaro. He stepped on the gas, going up over a hill and then down so fast that they went airborne for a moment. That gave him an idea. He throttle back on the fans and backed up, putting the truck off one side of the road. “All right. Out,” he told her. “Take off your armor.” “What?” “Down to your skin suit just to rip the sleeve,” he said, pulling open his pocketknife. “The left sleeve. Driver’s side. You can leave it on if you don’t trust me.” “I’ll do it myself, thanks,” said Natasha, holding out her armored hand for the knife. She lay prone on the ground and hit the emergency release system. “Come on. We probably have less than two minutes,” Kintaro told her. “Get back in the vehicle and open the door and lean out. When they stop and come over, drop the tear gas ordinance. I’ll be over there with the combat shotgun.” “What if they don’t stop?” “I’ll take out a tire with your heavy crossbow. If they don’t hear a gun they’ll stop,” he told her. “And if they don’t we can always catch up to them in the hover truck. But if you rip enough of that skin suit off, they’ll stop.” “Ha, ha.” “Who’s joking?” Kintaro trotted down the road. He had one shell with netting and flash-bangs, a large projectile with a very short range. It was tempting, very tempting, to load the heavy grenade launcher with a high-explosive ordinance and use it on the car; the Saturnus wouldn’t be armored. If anyone asked any questions, it would be easy to claim that the vehicle tried to run him down. No one would know any different. But he would know, and that was enough. Kintaro barely had time to get his weapons laid out and set himself before the Saturnus came over the hill. It moved much slower than the hover truck had. Kintaro steadied the heavy crossbow then put it down as the vehicle skidded to a stop. Four men, all with small weapons, got out of the car. Kintaro aimed the heavy grenade launcher point blank at the tallest of the men and fired. The launcher kicked up as the grenade shot off. He missed the man and hit the side of the car, igniting the stun grenade and the micromesh net. Kintaro dropped the launcher and thumped two slugs from his combat shotgun into the men who were still standing, the thick plastic bullets pounding the back of their heads. He had to hit one of the thugs a second time before he fell. By then, tear gas had begun curling out of the hover truck. Natasha scrambled back through the front of the truck, kicking out of the open passenger side door. As she reached the ground, one of the men began firing a KA-23 in her direction. She huddled low, grabbing for her own gun. Whirling around, she saw one of the men crawling through the truck. He had a pistol; she fired her own gun point blank into his forehead. Kintaro ran to the far side of the hover truck, grabbing Natasha as she staggered backward, coughing from the gas. He pulled her away and gave her a water bottle to irrigate her eyes, then trotted back to the car. Two of the men were writhing on the ground, one still holding his gun. Kintaro blasted each one in the skull and got the other man for good measure. Then he hit them with the syringes. “You weren’t kidding about the gas,” said Natasha when he got back to her. Tears were streaming from her beet-red face. “I meant for you to take a deep breath ‘before’ you pulled the grenade,” said Kintaro. “How?” He lifted his Kishi helmet, and mimicked taking a huge breath but only succeeded in looking like a puffer fish. “You could have run back to the side. It’s all right. Men find hard to resist a woman’s tears.” “You’re on a roll tonight,” she told him sarcastically. “Tell me about it.” Kintaro walked over to the car. Besides a half dozen guns on the floor of the rear seat, he found a duffle bag filled with hundred dollar Ryu bills. None of the men were Sakamoto. The night had been a total wipeout. Word Count 1342 Name: Tanaka Kintaro Callsign: ‘Iceman’ Rank: Tai-sa Hardware: DEST Suit Platoon: Heavy Jump DEST Response Squad: Command Assignment: Infiltration Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE DC-RD-06-02 #18 Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore Outskirts of Platinum City Industrial Complex 3rd February 3093 12:35pm Local Time “Callaghan is down! Covering fire!” Tai-sa Onishi ‘Rough Ryder’ Razan swallowed hard as she listened to the radio chatter, her practiced ears carefully filtering through frantic voices to extract valuable bits of information. They had not panicked and broken … not yet. They were Ronin, after all. But with Owen, Tai-sa Callaghan, down and her Assault Lance and Steele Dragon vehicle Company being eaten alive, could a full collapse be far off? Onishi preferred not to think of such a thing as she throttled her ninety five ton Naginata up onto a ridgeline just west of the Industrial Complex’s Assembly Plant B. Behind her, the sprawling complex stretched as far as the eye could see. A thick pall of smoke hung over the facility. Not the usual factory smoke, Onishi knew. The factories had been silent since the crisis started. This was the smoke of battle. Fighter strikes or artillery most likely. Ronin’s or Free Draconis Combine Mutineers, it was impossible to tell. The crisis was that her Razan’s Ronins Modern Warfare DEST Team had failed to capture Sathen Sakamoto last month and hence had lost their advantage of surprise. Alerted that Draconis Combine’s Planetary Governor, Hasani Saadiq, had brought in Mercenaries to hunt him down in the streets like a stray dog, Sakamoto had brought the fight to the Ronins. Tai-sa Torii ‘Nemesis’ Nashiro had warned the Razan’s command staff that something like this would happen. But even Torii’s forewarning never included this many ‘Mech forces in her wildest wet dreams. “Everyone hold up here,” Onishi announced over the general company frequency as she crested the ridge. Before her lay a series of low, scrub-covered hills, cut through by a meandering stream that had once been a wide river before the factory had diverted its flow. Now, shallow and tranquil, it posed no real obstacle. Its only significance lay in the low ground around the trickling water. The hills on either side would slow down the Mutineers force, not by much, but at least a little. It was an advantage, however minor, that Onishi could not afford to overlook. Not today. Somewhere out there, beyond the hills, the balance of her combat command was being cut to pieces; her Steele Dragon Company with four assault tanks and four heavy tanks and her Dragon’s Sword Lance with all assault class ‘Mechs. Onishi remembered her conversation with Tai-sa Owen ‘Kestrel’ Callaghan, just moments before he fell. “They’re starting another push. We’ll hold them as long as we can, but we’re down to only a handful of Planetary Defense Force Ground Troops.” Despite the dire situation, Callaghan was calm, steady as ever. Concerned, yes, but there was not the slightest trace of panic in his voice. Ronin did not panic. “Any word from Dieron Regulars?” asked Onishi. “The 15th has assured me they have that situation under control.” Even through the electronic distortion, Onishi discerned a hint of doubt in Callaghan’s voice. “Don’t concern yourself with that! Our job is to keep the Regulars out of this conflict!” A surge of electronic ionization had cut through the Tai-sa’s next words, but Onishi was already in motion. “…-gion Company and protect the west side of the industrial complex. You are the line! The line must hold!” We are the line. The line must hold. Onishi brought up her terrain map screen and centered the reticle over a satellite projection of their current position. Using a tethered stylus, she traced a series of colored lines across the screen and transmitted the image to the other ‘Mechs of Ronin’s Legion Company. “Chu-i Mendez, move Dragon’s Watch to phase line blue and spread out,” she said, indicating a line bisecting a ridge on the far west side of the stream. “Don’t range out any farther or we won’t be able to cover you. Tang,” she continued, addressing her strike lance commander. “Spread out here, just below the crest. No use sky lining ourselves. Fire Dragon; form up on the left flank, alongside Tang. Spread out in a skirmish line, one hundred meter interval.” Onishi glanced down at the rough yellow mark she had drawn along the ridgeline where they now stood, and the red one back further to the east, on the edge of the factory grounds, running along the line of outermost warehouses. “Phase line red is our fall back point. Yellow is where we hold, wakarimas?” “Hai, Tai-sa!” rang a chorus of positive acknowledgements from Ronin’s Legion Company. Onishi’s heart thumped in her chest as she realized a distinct lack of chatter on the battalion frequency. Dialing through the backup channels, she found only silence. It’s up to us then. Twelve ‘Mechs against whatever just overran two assault lances of elite warriors. Twelve ‘Mechs to protect a line two kilometers long. Onishi shook her head as much as her bulky neuro helmet would allow, clearing her mind of negative thoughts. We are the line. We will hold. Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore Outskirts of Platinum City Industrial Complex 3rd February 3093 20:00pm Local Time “Contact, bearing seven zero three, range two thousand meters and closing fast,” Mendez reported in his trademark deadpan tone. “No IFFs.” No transponders meant enemy. Who was another question entirely. Rumor said Free Draconis Combine/Free Skondia Mutineers Contested Mutineers, backed by the mysterious Black Dragon society. But how had they managed to smuggle so much equipment, so many ‘Mechs here, to the heart of the Dieron Military District? They could not have done so without a great deal of help and support from the inside. From powerful, highly placed individuals. Traitors. The thought of it set Onishi’s blood to boil. “One thousand meters and still closing.” Dragon’s Watch Lance, Ronin’s Legion’s recon element consisted of a Venom, a Tessen, a new variant Komodo, and Chu-i Mendez in his Hitotsume Kozo. Three jump capable, two equipped with C3 systems, and one with a Bloodhound Active Probe. They hunkered down within a small copse of trees atop a ridge roughly parallel to the one occupied by Onishi and the rest of Ronin’s Legion Company. Hard to make out in the encroaching darkness. Onishi was counting on that. Though she knew they wouldn’t be enough to stop or even slow what was coming, she needed at least one well placed volley from them before they pulled back. Hopefully, that would be enough. “Recon, hold position. Engage and be ready to pull back on my mark.” Onishi’s radar painted several unidentified blips on her screen, adding still more as a second wave moved into passive sensor range. Seconds ticked by as the red blips inched closer and closer to the green markers of recon lance. Five hundred meters. Four hundred. Three. “Mark!” The purplish horizon lit with flashes of fire as Dragon’s Watch Lance unleashed their fury into the enemy formation from nearly point blank range. Almost impossible to miss. Onishi hoped they had felled at least one enemy machine, and was delighted when one of the red blips winked out. Her excitement was short lived, however, as three more moved in to take its place. Beams and tracers blanketed the thin tree line and illuminated the night sky as Mendez’s ‘Mechs broke cover, sailing over the stream bed on tongues of silvery flame. Sho-ko Shannon Parrish’s Tessen caught a well aimed PPC in mid-jump, the impact spoiling Shannon’s balance and sending the medium ‘Mech crashing to the valley floor. A trailing Griffin burst from the trees along with a few of its fellows and lashed the machine again as it tried to stand. Onishi’s thermals registered a massive heat spike from the Tessen, telling of damage to the engine shielding. A flight of LRMs from the Griffin burrowed into the Tessen’s back, eating away at the last of the vital protection. The ’Mech disintegrated in a ball of golden fire. The other three ‘Mechs of Dragon’s Watch Lance completed their first jump, landing well within Ronin’s Legion’s protective umbrella. As one, they turned and blasted the Griffin with a withering barrage of laser fire. The black painted machine went down hard, slashes of molten armor drawing red hot crisscrosses across its arms and torso. Onishi tight beamed Tang. “Strike lance, first volley on my mark. Now!” Dragon’s Claw Lance, led by Chu-i Sroyadin Tang and Gunsho Arai ‘Tokoyo’ Chickamoto with their medium class LRM launchers, unleashed a storm of missiles into a group of enemy ‘Mechs fighting their way through the trees on the opposite ridge. The earth shook, the ridge disappearing in a pall of smoke and flying debris from the rain of fifty warheads. Particle beams from Dragon’s Claw other two pilots, heaped on yet more destruction, splitting hundred year old oaks, igniting the sparse forest into a raging conflagration. Onishi saw at least one enemy machine, an Enforcer, succumb to the pounding, shattered after absorbing the brunt of Chickamoto’s barrage. Gunsho Sonja Tagert found a target for her Uziel in a light Stinger, which she riddled with short range missile and PPC fire. The hapless machine turned and staggered back into the inferno. But on they came. Surging through the smoke, seemingly oblivious to the heat. “Second volley, load Thunder. On my order,” Onishi ticked off the seconds in her head, waiting until the ragged line of enemy ‘Mechs had nearly burst forth from the flames. “NOW!” Two score of warheads erupted from Onishi’s line, bursting in air and blanketing the far ridge with shaped charges. As she hoped, the second wave of enemy ‘Mechs crashed from the burning woods and blundered straight into the impromptu minefield. A Catapult stepped into the field, shoulder mounted missile boxes belching fire. Earth erupted under its right foot, the mines shattering the vulnerable ankle joint. Unable to stop his forward progress, the ‘MechWarrior planted the shattered limb into the ground. The machine twisted and fell forward, its jutting torso detonating several more mines beneath the forward thrust cockpit. The mines sowed confusion in the enemy ranks as more of their ‘Mechs stumbled into the kill zone. A few moved forward, a few retreated and still one or two more stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do. The Ronin’s Legion warriors made them pay for their indecision, quickly striking down the stalled machines with barrages of combined firepower. The enemy assault fizzled in seconds. The remaining Mutineer machines turned to escape from the Ronin guns, some storming back through the mines and the flaming woods, others choosing a more circuitous route. Onishi’s men loosed a few parting shots, most of which missed their mark. Some encouraged a pursuit, but Onishi reined them in. “They’ll be back. Let them come to us.” Chase and we may get lucky and down a few, but we would become overextended. Vulnerable. Onishi did not need to explain her thinking to her warriors. They were Ronin. Most of them veterans of the War of Benjamin, many of Operation: Homecoming. Some, like Onishi, from long before that. One of those veterans was Akita Fujinaka. A hulking mountain of a man, he was Onishi’s Dragon Fire’s second in command. He and Onishi had been through a lot together, both Mechwarriors plunged into the mercenary life just prior to the Free Skondia Mutineers invasion. During the battle for Dieron, Onishi had seen her friend take on a Free World’s League Battle Armor Pilot in hand to hand after being shot out of his ‘Mech. He lost the fight, but had earned the respect of the armored trooper, who commented that he had fought with the fury of a Ghost Bear. That had earned him the nickname Kuma, the Bear. Right now, Bear looked down on Onishi, his Banzai brandishing its evil grin. “So Little Colonel,” he teased, using the name he had given to Onishi long before she had earned the rank. “Afraid to get your assault ‘Mech dented, da? Never fear, Uncle Kuma is here to protect you!” Bear often chided Onishi over her choice of ‘Mech. Indeed, the Naginata was an unusual choice for a command ‘Mech. The heart of the Naginata was the revolutionary command/control/communications (C3) computer system, which had been fully tested and available to the DCMS for nearly five years. What prevented its widespread deployment was the C3's large size and weight, which make a retrofit lengthy and complicated, requiring the removal of vital weapons, armor, or other needed systems. Kurita technicians at Independence Weaponry proposed a 'Mech that incorporated the C3 computer as an integral part of the design, eliminating the difficulty of expensive and time-consuming refits. They settled on a 95-ton assault 'Mech for the platform, further defining its role as a command and fire support unit. The 'Mech was named Naginata, after the ancient Japanese pole arm. The main armament of the Naginata consists of two Coventry Star Fire assault class long range missile racks, with additional accuracy provided by an Artemis IV fire control system. Long range missiles were chosen so that the Naginata would get the maximum benefit for C3 aided targeting, allowing its lance mates to designate targets for direct and indirect barrages at extended range. The Naginata mounts another long-range weapon, the Lord's Light 2 extended range PPC, as a reliable backup weapon. The left arm mounting for the weapon is flanked by two double strength freezers to help counter the ER PPC's tremendous heat buildup. The combined assembly is so long and bulky that the left arm has no hand. Current deployment of the Naginata is consistent with its design parameters. It is typically assigned as a command 'Mech for a lance or company. Its three lance mates are medium 'Mechs, or possibly two mediums and a heavy, all retrofit with C3 slave units. They all have greater speed than the Naginata, and preferably, jump capability. It is their role to get as close to the enemy as possible, allowing long range attacks by the Naginata and other C3-equipped 'Mechs to come in at greatly increased accuracy. Assigned to Onishi as a test bed design shortly after its introduction, she had grown fond of its combination of speed and raw hitting power. The battles with Free Skondia Mutineers netted her unit abundant new tech salvage, but Onishi chose to stick with the Naginata. She named her Tetsu-ko, Lady of Steel, and Onishi wore her like a second skin. Onishi was about to reply to Bear’s verbal jab when Mendez cut through on the company band. “Dragon’s Watch four has movement on the left flank. Company sized element.” Onishi shifted the line left, moving her command element into position to face the brunt of the attack. Tang’s strike lance would back them up while Mendez swung his lance around the rear of the line, ready to plug any holes or respond to threats from another direction. The enemy attack came swift and fierce. A dozen Mutineer machines charged out of the growing gloom like madmen. Their lack of cohesion doomed the first few ‘Mechs, lighter designs that outdistanced their heavier brothers, only to bleed away their precious speed as they hit the slope. Onishi saw a pair of enemy machines go down near the base of the hill, victims of her Ronin’s superior gunnery. Two other light ‘Mechs, a Wasp and a Firestarter, bounded up the slope undeterred. Using their jump jets to gain the summit, they clashed with the Fire Dragon Lance warriors just as their heavier brothers began showering the hillside from below. Missiles and light cannon fire rained down, striking friend and foe alike. The Wasp, holed from multiple angles, came apart in a violent blast as its missile ammunition cooked off. The Firestarter had better luck. Jumping again to escape the hailstorm of fire, he touched down behind Bear and unleashed a fury of laser fire that bit deep into the back of the slow moving ‘Mech. Bear cursed and swung his machine around to face his nemesis. Bellowing a fierce war cry over the comm, he unloaded on the smaller ‘Mech, cycling through every weapon system he had. The Firestarter tried to jump out of the path of the barrage but it was a second too late. Clan grade large and medium pulse lasers carved across the machine’s upper works, blasting away an arm and spilling volatile flamer gel onto the hillside. Cleansing darts from the Banzai’s eight centimeter pulse laser amputated a leg at the knee. The sudden displacement of weight, coupled with the loss of a jet port, fouled the enemy pilot’s jump. The Firestarter tilted in the air, pin wheeling end over end before driving itself headfirst into the ground. Its left arm flailed spasmodically, bathing the hilltop with flame, instantly igniting the dry brush and spilled gel fluid. Almost instantly, the entire hilltop became a blazing pyre, with Onishi’s command lance caught in the middle. “Fire Dragon, displace!” Onishi labored to keep her concern from bleeding into her voice. “Shift the line three hundred meters north. Dragon’s Claw Lance, plug the gap.” “Negative, Onishi-san,” Tang’s normally soft voice was edged with desperation. “We’re engaged on the right flank!” A new enemy assault had formed to the south. Black painted Mutineer ‘Mechs pounded up the slope, attempting to close with Dragon’s Claw Lance, to get in under the barrage umbrella. A sound tactic. The front rank would pay a terrible price, but with their superior numbers, they would soon overwhelm the slow moving Ronin machines. Dragon’s Claw needed to break away, and fast. “Dragon’s Claw Lance, fall back by the numbers, bounding over watch. Dragon’s Watch, execute a feint around the far right, but do not engage. Say again, do not engage!” Onishi was met by a chorus of Hai’s as her commanders executed her orders, moving their ‘Mechs like giant chess pieces on a kilometers wide game board. Mendez’s ruse worked. The enemy, noticing Dragon’s Watch’s flanking maneuver, suspended their assault on the hilltop, allowing Tang and the rest of Dragon’s Claw Lance to break away. Onishi back pedaled her machine over the reverse slope of the hill, snapping off shots at ‘Mechs skulking along the hilltop, concealing themselves in the smoke from the growing blaze. Glancing at her sensor display, she noted the presence of still more red blips forming at the base of the ridge. In a moment, the enemy would stream over the crest and catch them out of position. As much as it galled her, she knew she had no choice. “All Ronin’s Legion units, abandon phase line yellow. Rally point red! Rally point red! I repeat all Ronin’s fall back to the Rally point!” In a well practiced maneuver, Ronin’s Legion Company turned and retreated down into the low area between the ridgelines, faster ‘Mechs turning to cover the slower machines, then vice-versa. ‘Mechs equipped with jump jets bounded up the next slope, followed by the ground bound machines. Onishi was among the last to reach phase line red, having stopped to discourage enemy pursuit with a few blasts of ER PPC fire. Mendez’s lance closed in from the south, easily outdistancing their pursuers. Draconis Combine Dieron Prefecture Dieron Military District Kessel Province Draconis Combine Steen Bangalore Outskirts of Platinum City Industrial Complex Phase Line Red 4th February 3093 04:00am Local Time Night had fallen thick and inky, broken only by the bright orange flames that still licked skyward from the tortured hilltop. Oily smoke obscured the stars. Onishi took a moment to breathe as she pulled up Tetsu-ko between two of the low warehouses that bordered their new position. It felt like the first time in ages. Even the sour, musty air that cycled in through the ‘Mech’s cooling system was as welcome as that of a spring morning. The searing heat of the cockpit poured sweat down her cheeks, into her eyes. She looked around at her warriors. Exhausted, their ‘Mechs stood stooped over in a jagged line. The last line. They must, would, hold here! “Dragon’s Claw … Tang … hold the center,” she finally gasped between ragged breaths. “Dragon’s Watch, range out to the north. Watch that left flank. Big hole between us and the Dieron Regulars. Fire Dragon, we’re splitting to cover the gaps. Yorinaga and Gerald, hold the right. Bear, you’re with me.” Onishi waited for the expected wry remark from Bear, but it never came. Perhaps the huge man was just too tired to think of anything to say. If that was the case, it was the first time in Onishi’s recollection. A warning klaxon suddenly sounded in Onishi’s ear. Threat indicator! “Here they come again!” . . . . Nearly dawn. Onishi lifted the visor of her neuro helmet and pushed her fingers as far as she could into the gap between helmet and head, rubbing feverishly. How she longed to scratch her head, to dig her nails in deep and vigorous, scouring her itchy scalp. To do so meant removing the bulky helmet, a tempting thought though she dared not indulge. After this, she swore, she would shave her head bald as a Buddhist monk. If she survived. Thirty hours and counting in the cockpit. Six separate assaults, the last coming about four hours ago. At least twice their number in enemy ‘Mechs littered the field before them, at the cost of two Ronin’s Legion warriors. Brand’s Hatamoto-Ku had been blasted apart as he ranged out to feed close in telemetry to Dragon’s Claw’s C3 network. Luck, some would call it. Maybe that played a part, Onishi admitted, but she knew their success had more to do with their superior skill and discipline. Still, with their ammo depleted and armor mostly a memory, Onishi prayed for just a little more luck. She sipped a caffeinated electrolyte drink through a straw, grimacing at the heavy, metallic taste. The muscle in her left thigh spasmed again, forcing her to twist in her seat in a vain attempt to stretch out her aching legs. She groaned and closed her eyes at the sound of her knees popping. She stared out at the graying sky through her starred canopy glass. The horizon was clear. Only a few more minutes until dawn. Have we broken them? She dared not believe it. Rightly so. “Contact,” came the call from Mendez. “Bearing?” Hesitation. Then finally, “Everywhere.” Suddenly, the opposite ridgeline was teeming with enemy ‘Mechs. They streamed down into the narrow defile and charged up the near slope, straight at Ronin’s Legion Company’s line. With practiced efficiency, Onishi’s warriors poured fire into the onrushing enemy, mowing them down in a deadly hail. A Raptor went down, legs cut from under it. An Orion’s missile box exploded, shearing away the top half of the seventy five ton giant. Dead on its feet, carried by sheer momentum, a Blackjack barreled through the line, small fires burning in its charred torso. It finally fell, coming to rest against a low, hardened bunker. No matter how many went down, however, it seemed two more Mutineers came up to fill the void. Worse yet, their fire was finally beginning to have an effect. Yorinaga’s Hatamoto-Chi lost its right arm to an enemy barrage. Mendez’s Hitotsume Kozo staggered about, a result of a hit to the gyro housing. Its shaft of its hatchet and Mendez’s skill were all that kept it upright. Zach’s anti-missile systems poured out streams of lead as multiple missile flights homed in on him, then coughed and spun impotently as they burned through the last of their ammunition. The remaining missiles blossomed fire all across Zach’s Komodo, smashing it to the ground, where it stayed for long moments before finally struggling to stand. Bear rushed to Zach’s aid, standing over the downed machine and pouring fire into the Salamander that had launched the devastating attack. The enemy ‘Mech fell backward, only to be replaced by another, this one a seventy ton Avatar. The Free Draconis Combine Mutineer machine led forth a fresh batch of rebels that charged up the slope and were in Ronin’s Legion Company’s midst in seconds. The Avatar was the target of withering fire from up and down the line. It collapsed forward, tumbling end over end in a rolling fireball, limbs and armor plates shearing away to careen across the battlefield. Onishi had to sidestep to avoid the deadly wreck. The rest of the enemy machines slammed into Ronin’s Legion’s line like a wave breaking over a rocky shoal. Friend and enemy alike dissolved into ghostly shadows, lit by the flashing strobes of beams and staccato bursts of cannon fire. On her right, Onishi saw Bear locked in close quarters combat with two enemy ‘Mechs, one a Clan manufactured Puma, the other a new design her battle computer identified as a Shadow Hawk. The three ‘Mechs went down together in a tangle of flailing limbs. Onishi pounded across the front, seeking to help her friend but was herself beset. She dispatched a charging Valkyrie with a barrage of ER PPC and missile fire. The ‘Mech plowed into the ground and skidded to rest near her right foot just as a pockmarked Sunder OmniMech loomed out of the darkness and rushed in on her left. The assault class machine leveled its left arm, the one that ended in a stubby, heavy autocannon barrel, and let loose a stream of high velocity shells that smashed Tetsu-ko high in the torso. The hard impacts spun Onishi to the left and threatened to upend her. Fighting gravity and her controls, she managed to keep her machine upright by planting a knee into the soft earth, recovering just in time to receive a downward blow from the Sunder’s already-savaged right arm that was clearly aimed for her head. Luckily, the enemy warrior missed his mark and the punch glanced off the Naginata’s right shoulder baffle. Bear countered with a short sword stroke, the titanium blade biting deep into the Sunder’s left knee joint. The machine staggered backward in an awkward attempt to keep its footing. A hellacious rain of red and green laser darts fire from the Banzai helped facilitate the Sunder’s plunge to the ground. A savage kick to the Sunder’s hip assembly assured that it stayed down. Bear. The Banzai turned its head toward Onishi, death mask rendering a twisted grin, which disintegrated as the prone Sunder lifted its autocannon and walked a grisly line of death up Bear’s torso and into his cockpit. “BEAR!” Onishi cursed and rushed forward, nearly leaping her ‘Mech into the air. The Naginata’s foot crashed down onto the prone Sunder’s blocky head. Again and again Onishi kicked and stomped, enhanced myomer and personal fury combining to smash the Sunder’s entire upper works into a barely recognizable mass of twisted metal, shattered ferro ceramics and blood. The death of the Sunder halted the enemy advance … for a moment. Onishi used the reprieve to blink the sweat out of her eyes and bring her ragged breathing under control. A quick head count revealed what she feared most. In addition to Bear, they had lost two more warriors in the last rush. Yorinaga’s Hatamoto-Ku lay in a crumpled heap between two low warehouses, and Gunsho Arai Chickamoto had last been seen riding his ejection seat skyward. She hoped he was okay. Ronin’s Legion Company was now less than two lances. Seven barely functional ‘Mechs. Her HUD showed the enemy massing at the bottom of the hill for yet another charge. Onishi counted eight blips. Ten. Thirteen. Too many. The others saw it too. Tang was the first to speak. “Tai-sa, should we pull back? Establish a new defensive line?” Onishi thought for a moment, then responded. “Iie. Not this time.” She stepped from behind the warehouse she had been using as cover and walked into the open. The first rays of dawn cast a purple orange glow against the distant horizon as she opened the general broadcast and cranked up the gain so everyone, even the Mutineers . . . especially the Mutineers . . . would hear. “Warriors of Ronin’s Legion Company! The time for retreat has passed. There will be no more falling back. We are the line! The line must hold! These honorless eta think they represent the spirit of the Dragon, but they are wrong! We will show them the error of their impure vision! We will show them how a true son of the Dragon fights!” Onishi thrust her ‘Mech’s right arm high into the air and began striding toward the slope. “Banzai! Banzai! BANZAI!” By the third chorus, the seven remaining warriors of Ronin’s Legion Company echoed as one. They poured over the edge of the hill, sweeping down the slope into the teeth of the enemy advance. In that moment, they were the storm that was their namesake. The great wave of the unstoppable black ocean, devouring everything in its unquenchable fury. The enemy, shocked almost to inaction, fell away under the onslaught like wheat before the scythe. Onishi blasted the head from a new model Phoenix Hawk with her four clan grade extended range medium lasers while her ER PPC cored the center of a damaged Archer. A savage kick sent the enemy hulk tumbling backwards down the hillside, the wreck bowling over an Ostsol and pinning the machine beneath its weight. On her right, Tang and Tagert teamed up to shatter a rebel Lynx. Zach burned down a Hunchback, his Komodo losing an arm to heavy cannon fire in the process. Sroyadin and Sonja emptied the last of their missile loads into an enemy Grand Dragon at point blank range, savaging but not killing the Mutineer machine. Go-cho Orvald ‘Doomguide’ Kress, his Rokurokubi’s ER PPC having suffered critical damage, finished the rebel off with a series of brutal sword strikes. Their full battle fury was a fearsome, beautiful sight to behold, but it was not enough. The enemy was too numerous. They recovered from their initial shock and began raining fire down on the remnants of Ronin’s Legion Company. One by one they fell. Parrish’s Tessen went down, cored through its center. Orvald ejected in a hail of fire as he charged a knot of enemy ‘Mechs. Tang’s Shiro spun and crashed to the ground on its side, armor panels blowing out as her scant remaining missile rounds cooked off. Tears streamed down Onishi’s face as she watched the last of her samurai fall. She swept forward, ignoring the warning klaxons screaming in her ears. Left torso armor breach. LRM ammo depleted. Heat shutdown imminent. She sought out an enemy Awesome and charged, raising the seven meter ER PPC high, determined to strike one more blow. For the Dragon. For the Ronin. For Ronin’s Legion Company. The rebel machine loosed all three of its PPCs. One beam, incredibly, missed wide. Another struck Onishi’s left leg, vaporizing the remaining armor and biting through myomer to melt the endo steel support structure. The third beam blasted the Naginata’s right arm, severing it at the elbow. The limb cartwheeled through the air, the ER PPC still charging up to fire. Tetsu-ko crashed to the ground at the Awesome’s feet. Onishi sobbed as she struggled to right her machine to no avail. Levering up on her remaining arm, she stared up at the enemy machine, accepting her inevitable death. Her failure. But the Awesome did not fire. It did not move, even, save for a trembling shudder that seemed to reverberate through the entire machine. Then it came apart in a brilliant, white firestorm, spraying flame and debris for a hundred meters in all directions. The flash temporarily blinded Onishi. When her vision returned, all that remained of the Free Draconis Combine Mutineer Awesome was a pair of scorched, black feet. A large shadow emerged from the smoky haze and stopped in front of her. A ‘Mech. A battered Battlemaster in Ronin colors, wearing the personal sigil of Callaghan. Tai-sa Callaghan! All around her, the survivors of Steele Dragon Company, pockmarked and fire blackened, swept the last of the Mutineer machines from the field. They gave no quarter, and not one escaped. A few warriors of Ronin’s Legion company joined them. A precious few. Still, they had survived. Onishi allowed herself a smile for the first time in days. They were the line. The line had held. WORD COUNT 5435 Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: ‘Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa, Commanding Hardware: Naginata NG-RO1 Company: Ronin Legion Lance: Fire Dragon Assignment: MUCO Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE #19 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #19] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points Posted 23 July 2016 - 05:30 PM DC-RD-06-02 #19 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Downtown Red Light District The Adept 10th March 3093 20:00:00 Local The Denizens of Skondia had not really welcomed Razan’s Ronins, as it was quite obvious, that left to their own devices, they didn't want the status quo changed one bit. However; ‘What do the people want?’ Kintaro wonders. A plan has been slowly forming in his mind since the landing and he needed to execute it to provide some intel and feedback to Tai-sa Razan. So here he is, sitting in a bar, alone, in Platinum City. The Adept, it was called, and he had just ordered a drink close to saki, a hot apricot wine. As he sat there waiting for his drink, he decided to try and size up the mood of the place and the people’s reaction to the Ronins landing on planet. The mood was light as they seem content that Free Skondia Mutineers was gone for now. Many a conversation was taking place on what Razan’s Ronins were really going to do. Some had heard of the unit and bragged that they knew they could kick the crap out of Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineers, but would it be enough many asked. ‘What if Free Skondia Mutineers started with the nukes again?’ some said, ‘Could they survive once more?’ many asked. Finally, someone got up and put some money in the machine on the wall and music started up; making some of the conversations hard to hear. The door to the bar opened and in walked two men who pause and look about as if looking for someone or something. They spied an open booth and both took seats and motioned for the waitress to come over. As they ordered their drinks, Kintaro takes a few moments to visually check out the new comers. Both were males, dressed in dark suits with equally dark sunglasses, about 70 to 72 inches in height, one weighting in at roughly 180 and the other slightly thinner, possibly 165 to 170 pounds. From the bulge underneath their suit coats, they were both packing some serious heat. The mood in the bar turned quiet and a few of the Adepts patrons make ‘excuses’ to leave, stating they needed some fresh air. What Kintaro noticed about the two men, was that they seemed intent on observing and listening to all that was going on. Being preoccupied by the two gentleman, Kintaro fails to hear the chair next to him being pulled out until a female slides into it beside him. He turned and looked at her slowly. Softly she whispers to him "Honey, it isn't safe here for your kind." She then leans forward and gives him a kiss on the cheek and laughs as if he had just said something terrible funny to her. She pulls him closer "You need to get out of here before they take note of you and haul your ass in." "Pardon me?" Kintaro says in his best English. "Honey, you are one of them mercs now aren't you? We don't have many snakes about you know." she says smiling to him with an open invitation to lie to her. "I have met many of your kind, ‘Mech warrior, if I don't miss my judgment of you." Softly talking in her ear he says "Ok you got me, now what? Turn me in and your people will all die. I just want some info," he says. Laughing loudly she pulls him close and this time kisses him fully on the lips. He feels his cheeks starting to flush from her outward advances. "Honey, if I wanted to turn you in, I doubt you could stop me but I wouldn't turn over my worst enemy to those butchers." 'Let her thank what she wants.' "Is there a way out or someplace more private so we can talk?" he whispers to her. Loudly she replies "Honey, it took you long enough to decide. Let’s go upstairs and I will show you the time of your life." She pulls him close and leans her head on his shoulder as they start to leave. 'She is good. Putting herself between me and them making it harder for them to get a good look at me.' Once they reach the top of the stairs she pulls him into a room. The door closes. Kintaro DEST training takes over. He pulls away from her and looks about quickly to see if it’s a trap, readying three poisoned shuriken, as he scans the room for a possible escape route. "Now honey, do you mind telling me truthfully who you are and what you are doing here?" she asks. "I am Kintaro Tanaka, a d yes I am a ‘Mechwarrior in the employment of the Razan’s Ronins, and you are?" Kintaro refrained from telling her that he was a DEST agent. No since in disclosing his entire hand. "I am Mildred. Mildred Carson, Owner of The Adept and the two men below are Sakamoto 's goons, I suspect they are ISF for often they come in and then some disappear after their visit." "Well Mildred, I thank you for saving me then, unless you would have liked them to die at your doorstep," he says smiling. "Oh, right! That’is all I would need and then they would swarm all over my place. No Thanks." she retorts mockingly. "You said you wanted information earlier. What kind of information?" "I came here trying to judge what the people of the planet want. Not the um ...how to say this politically correct.. your Petty Lords." 'Well Kintaro, if I may call you that, the people are tired and scared. One Masters was done away with along came the Diamond Sharks and a bloody lot they were, especially the Star Colonel in charge of them. That rule passed once Free Skondia Mutineers decided to take over," sighed Mildred. "I understand they were brutal, used nuclear weapons and all," stated Kintaro. "Well, either they couldn't beat them, or didn't want to them to unleashed hell upon our planet. Thousands died and not just Diamond Sharks. Radiation is still a problem for many here and will be for years to come," she answers quietly almost crying. "I lost my husband and son in one attack. You should have seen how the herded the once proud Colonel and some of his Sharks through the city streets. Rumor has it that they haven't managed to turn or break our Garrison Major Fujita Morinaka." "I am sorry for your loss, Mildred," Tanaka offers softly as condolences. "We haven’t fought them before but I am confident that we will come away victors so I don't lose hope just yet. But they seem to have disappeared, went into hiding." Laughing softly "That’s a front my dear man. They are here. It just so happens to be when you aren't. Their ISF agents walk freely amongst us. Their Phalanx Battle Armor does the same at night. For some reason they are being low key. Perhaps, for once, there is something they fear." "Our Tai-sa, err I meant ‘Major’ is a shrewd woman and I am sure she has many things in store for them," Kintaro responds proudly "So tell me, what do your people want? Really want?" "Freedom," she uttered so faint he wasn't sure she had spoken. "Well that is one thing I know we are here to insure and I promise you we will die trying to do just that," he said determinedly. "Is there another way out, for I need to be getting back shortly and it’s a long jog. I have duty in a few hours at best," he admits. "Take the window, you can climb I am sure. Go to the roof and then across to the next one. There you will find a trap door. Go through it and you will soon find yourself on the next block over. Be safe Honey and any time you are here come and see me," she says the last part with a tired smile. She had been a handsome woman in her day but the trials she has had to endure have started to take their toll upon her. Kintaro exists thru the window and follows her directions. Soon he is one block over and starts to make his way from the city proper, keeping to the shadows as he goes. Twice he sees a sight that chills him to the bone for he had to leave the majority of his weapons back at the bivaouc. It is a little after midnight and the heavy thudding of footsteps cause him to pause and watch. A man, no a machine, a Phalanx Battle Armor suit, tromps through the streets. He has an eerie red glow from one eye and he is certain it allows him to see in the infra red zone. Carefully Kintaro backs up around the corner to escape the gaze of the sentry. Soon the battle armor has passed and Tanaka makes his way out of the city and hops onto a Ceres-Bikes Flashbang ZZ10000 and rides it back to the Razan’s Ronins base. The night had yielded many surprises for him and he was glad to be back home with his fellow Ronins. As he pulls back the flap of his tent he hears "Chu-i, where have you been for I have been looking for you." and as he turns he sees Tai-sa Onishi Razan standing there and she doesn't look none too happy. "I can explain." he says. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac 11th March 3093 00:45:00 Local "Chu-i, where have you been for I have been looking for you." and as he turns he sees Tai-sa Onishi Razan standing there and she doesn't look none too happy. "I can explain." he says. The Tai-sa purges on ahead as if his feeble explanation had fallen on deaf ears. “What were you thinking? Huh? Answer me! You, Of all people should know better. What happened to the ‘Buddy-system? Huh? ‘Iceman’, we are in a combat zone. You KNOW that you can’t go romping off on your own. And if you did feel the need to go running off among the Free Skondia Mutineers solo, you already know you need to get permission first. Your platoon needs to know where you are. The XO needs to know where you are. ‘I’ need to know where you are. And what about the Free Skondia Mutineers Phalanx Battle Armor Patrols? Huh? What were you going to do if you bumped into one of those? Hit them with a throwing star? Oh ho ho ho. You knew I wouldn’t have given you permission with those things lurking around, didn’t you. Kintaro!” She yells at him and stomped her foot for emphasis. “You are not a first year cadet just out of the MRBC boot camp! You are a Chu-i and a Draconis Elite Strike Team Commando of a premier mercenary unit of House Kurita. You have responsibilities to your unit and your staff. You have your Giri.” She stands there looking him dead in his ebony eyes huffing and puffing with the swell of her chest. “You pull another stunt like this one Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka and you won’t have to worry about committing Seppuku.” She said each word like a whip hitting raw flesh. Clamping her mouth shut and talking through clenched teeth she moves close enough for Kintaro to feel her hot breath tickling the hairs on his neck as she then whispers, “Because I will personally take your Wakizashi to your neck.” And with her promise she turns and stalks away. Whatever she had been searching for him for, had been long since forgotten. ....................................... Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Messhall 11th March 3093 06:30:00 Local After getting just a few hours of sleep Kintaro plays of last night’s scene over and over in his head. Of course the Tai-sa was right and she would have denied him going but for the wrong reasons it would seem. She wasn't interested in what he had discovered only that he had gone with out approval. He could take care of himself even though the Phalanx would be hard to defeat but not impossible. As he walks over to the chow hall he mulls over how Mildred Carson has determined he wasn't from there and that he was a ‘Mech warrior. Surely there were some Orientals on the planet and it wasn't exclusively gajin. As he sits eating it finally slowly dawns on him how she had. The fresh shaven spots for the neuro helmet to make contact with the scalp is necessary. How stupid of him not to have noticed that. His instructors would have beaten him for that mistake if not washed him out of DEST training. So Mildred is a very perceptive woman and there is more to her than meets the eye it would seem but he knew Madams in the Combine who would have noticed even more now that he thinks upon it. Well its water under the bridge now, he has lost the trust of Tai-sa Onishi Razan and he would have to work hard to gain her trust again, something he has vowed to do. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed he muses. Perhaps at a different time and date he can get back to Mildred and find out more of her story. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Downtown Red Light District The Adept Rebel Underground 11th March 3093 09:45:00 Local 'I am telling you what he told me. The Razan’s Ronins are here to free us from Free Skondia Mutineers." Mildred says to the gathered. "I believe him for he had ample time and chance to lie to me and didn't." "How can we trust them? They are in the employ of those scum sucking snakes. House Kurita. You know the ones who abandoned us here in the first place," the man says sarcastically. "Well, I’ve seen and heard enough. I think we should throw in with them, The sooner we get rid of these sadistic bastards who have no problem nuking civilians, I say the better," Mildred argued. "You say ISF Agents were in here last night? Did they see him, talk to him?" another asks. "No, I managed to sneak him past right under their noses," Mildred replies laughing. "Well you are the leader and I for one will follow what ever course you decide. Not like we have many options," the blonde woman says. "Good now that is settled. Let’s eat." Mildred says smiling for real for the first time in over a year. WORD COUNT 2541 JOINT POST BETWEEN Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) '‘‘‘Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA AND Edited by Iceman, 23 July 2016 - 05:37 PM. Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. Posted Image Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Posted Image Posted Image Posted Image Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #20 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #20] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV Posted 24 July 2016 - 01:56 PM DC-RD-06-02 #20 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Equatorial Orbit Overlord-Class Drop Ship Driving Empire Deck Seven ‘Mech Bay 11th March 3093 09:00:00 Local Feeling the weight of the magnetic boots on her feet, Victoria Dozer continued to run through the Mech Bay. Her wearing black sweat short shorts, a black skin tight tank top, and her long red hair tied back in a loose pony tail. The sweat was reflecting the light of the Mech Bay on her naked tan skin. It had been over five years since Seth was taken as irsola by Skondia Militia on Jabuka. He had been there in order to take his Trial of Position as he was sixteen years of age at that time, but it was no to be. His sibko pretty much got decimated by the honorless mercenaries and he, among the 'lucky' ones, survived only to see himself end up in 'Hell'. And now after having to prove his abilities to the savashiri spheroids for over five years, he finally got the chance to pilot a ‘Mech in actual combat. The name of Jade Falcon shall be heard among these mercenaries and they shall tremble at its sound. Tipping the scales at eighty kilograms Seth had the time to train himself into a splendid fitness. His muscles big enough to make his t-shirt bulge as they tensed, but not so that he'd be mistaken with a steroid enhanced bench lifter. His hair cut short, almost shaved, was a reminder of the old Terran military hair cut style and just like many, he had the habit of running his hand through the almost non-existing hair while he was making his runs. It was not an ordinary run as he was wearing his magnetic boots since way up here in Skondia’s equatorial orbit the privileges of gravity did not reach them. As she ran, Victoria thought about her days before signing up with the Skondia Militia, she had been a wife to a Mercenary husband who had died in battle, a mother to two beautiful children who were now teenagers back on her home world of Victoria in the Fed Suns. Now becoming a Mercenary once again she had to stay in shape, she was at that age they called you over the hill. She had done it before and was going to show up the younger recruits and anyone else who wanted to give her problems, after this run she had two hours of German Jujutsu practice in her quarters to do before she rested. As Seth was running around the mechbay he noticed an older female catching up from behind. Giving her a quick look, he was wondering what this middle aged woman was doing around here following training patterns that resembled a warrior. Victoria was able to catch up to the younger man, but her nature of being better than the younger recruits, she pushes pass him, to see what his reaction might be. Seth saw the woman ran past him and acted upon the situation like he always did. He saw the challenge in it, an ill advised one from his perspective on her part but still a challenge. He sped up in a short sprint and passed her over by two body lengths. Victoria let out a laugh watching the young man past her like she was standing still. Victoria completed a couple of more laps around the Mech Bay. Victoria brought her run down to a slow walk right up to the young man and came to a stop and leaned over to catch her breath. Seth stopped and turned angrily at the woman. “Do you have the nerve to challenge me and then back out like the honorless spheroid you are?” With a grin on her face, her hands on her hips, and her green jade eyes looking into his taking in the comment, "Young man I do what I want when I'm off duty!" “Bah, who do you think you are talking to freebirth. Maybe a Circle would teach you more manners towards your trueborn superiors.” "Why is it I always seem to find the Clanners in the unit? Superior, honey I was flying Aerospace Fighter when you were being hatched." “Might makes right. Do you want to test your wicked tongue against my fists, freeborn!” Victoria did some quick thinking about her words, because of her pride this was heading for a circle of equals. She knew a lot about the Clans structure, all the studying she had done growing up in the best school on Thakard. One, she knew they had some great equipment, her beloved Nova Cat she left on Victoria to her daughter Katherine. She had to turn her attention to this young clanner sizing him up to her measurements of 5'11 and 130 pounds. She was going to do an hour of her martial arts by herself, but may get to spar instead. Looking at the older spheroid woman, Seth was getting full of himself but not overconfident. The female was not that remarkable in her size and apparent weight, but as always, strength is not the only thing that would help you in a battle just like the recent vid that went around about a high above Circle that took place on Mirach proved it. “Well . . . For more than two centuries it has worked well enough. It will work now also. Mark your words carefully freeborn before you bring about an insult.” Victoria just looked down, nearly flipping over in a full somersault, bringing her right foot up with the magnetic boot in a scorpion kick towards the young man's face. Seth, raised his right foot quickly towards her maneuver and then in a split second, disengaged the magnetic fields in order for the inertia to throw him backwards away from the woman. Victoria got into a fighting stance and waited for her opponents next move as he floated away. Seth reengaged his magnetic boots and waited to get grounded again. Observing her stance he took his time while he kept taunting her. “Do this now freebirth and you will not receive the honor treatment you would in a Circle. All would be fair in my killing you with my bare hands to shooting you right there where you stand. Are you so foolish to challenge a trueborn in his best fighting prowess of his life?” Victoria just looked up at him listening to his words, and hated to admit, but the man was right. The clanners were good at hand to hand, and she wasn't a young warrior anymore. So she bit her tongue and relaxed letting down her guard looking up at him. "Okay Clanner, this freebirth, as you call me, knows she can't match you hand to hand. We are not enemies, but comrades in arms, so what do you say? Friends?" “Bah, this will not be settled so easily, but it is true and from my years here, I know command frowns on warriors fighting each other and as such the peace offering is accepted…for now.” With hesitation Seth took her hand and squeezed a bit harder than normal. Taking the squeezing of the hand as the best she would get from him, she knew this wouldn't be the end of it either. She only had one more thing to ask while she had his attention; "So what’s your name?" “Seth, out of Roshak and Pryde!” "Victoria Dozer, honored to meet you Seth." “Pleased to meet you, although we will see about being honored later!” "Agreed, we should take this to the Battle Simulator and find out who the best pilot is. What do you say, okay?" “Aff, I will take what chance I have that will prove me worthy and superior!” "I bid my assigned Mech, my Marauder IIC, what forces do you bid?" “I bring to the table my Warhammer IIC and I choose a hilly terrain as our fighting venue!” "The battle will take place at the next refueling station 2200 hours local!" “Well bargained and done!” ................................................................... WORD COUNT 1406 Victoria Dozer Command Lance Skondia Militia GIA BattleMech Company Skondia Militia Living Dragon RISING TN Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino DC-RD-06-02 #21 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Kessel Province Subterranean Base Gilbralter Island Complex Fort Eagle 13th March 3093 15:00:00 Local “I do not understand why we do not attempt to go topside.” Sheikh’s voice, though powerful, almost failed against the hum and babble of Free Skondia Mutineers’s Military Personnel and support community. Sathen Sakamoto looked at his aide as they both made their way through Maintenance Square of Free Skondia Mutineers'. Of course, it was not square . . . or round or any other recognizable shape beyond an amorphous line stretching and snaking around to mark an open region . . . but the human mind, even one as adapted as the General’s mind to the rigors of long-term planning, latched on to traditions as old as human society. Jostled, Sathen turned to find a kind-faced woman with a thick swatch of dark, almost black hair pulled back in a severe braid. Her uniform bore the double stripes of the Astechs, and the hurried look on her face made him think the woman late for her duty assignment. When she realized who she had run into, she swallowed convulsively and bowed deeply, the hurried look replaced with one of shame. “General Sathen Sakamoto,” she began in a stammer, “I apologize. This unworthy one did not see you.” Though a warrior born and bred, with decades of Tikonov tradition supporting the superiority of its warriors . . . with the possible exception of ISF Agents . . . , he knew the duty of a General to his Army was to show respect when necessary. Reaching out, he raised up the woman’s head. “Woman, there is no need to bow to me.” He smiled, though the expression did not quite reach his frosty green eyes. “You obviously were intent on reaching your duty assignment on time. What greater honor can you do me and our Army than to attend to your duty with such dedication?” Though a certain wariness remained, she blushed, babbled thanks and nodded once more before vanishing into the throng of several hundred Tikonovians. “Ah, such fidelity is so admirable,” Sheikh said. “Do you mock?” Sathen continued on, weaving between technicians moving with great purpose; he couldn’t completely conceal the distaste in his voice for his aide’s words. “Of course I do not mock, General Sakamoto. Your humble servant only observes the devotion of your Army.” As usual, only silence could answer such a comment. Sathen felt the casual conversation almost inappropriate in the communal spaces, the FSM Watch Building had built to their new society. A glance up revealed a massive, bowl-shaped open-air region . . . with the “Maintenance square” at its base . . . that flared out at the bottom and rose to a dome some one hundred fifty meters above his head. Stair-stepped around the base of the bowl and then climbing one another, like ivy run riot in an ecstasy of verdant growth, square habitats filled his vision. Perhaps hanging nests for human occupants better described them. In addition to those using jump packs who moved around him, the region above held hundreds of individuals casually traversing the open air. Each landed lightly on a heavily padded wall of a given habitat and, grasping a strap, pulled him- or herself to a stable platform that allow them to set down, and began walking the short distance to their destination. Others launched themselves back into the open, creating an immensely complex choreographed dance accomplished without a single mishap. At any given moment, a sea of Troopers met his gaze, all standing at innumerable angles, while others darted like fish in heavy currents. The decades saw the slow transformation of one of the first under water habitats to be permanently sealed parallel to a transcontinental underground labyrinth to the hollowed-out shell of Sakamoto Free Skondia Mutineers: home to more than twelve thousand. One of five such chambers to his underground fortress, and still small compared with main Alpha Level of Fort Eagle. Look what we have accomplished, all for the glory of our Sainted FSM! The thought resonated within him like a struck bell. Sheikh did not suffer silence well. “You did not answer my question, General Sakamoto.” “No, I did not.” Without a backward glance, he began to make his way toward one of the original loading bays, which under heavy modification became the entryway leading directly into one of the primary corridors of Fort Eagle, with enough room for several BattleMechs to traverse abreast. He’d finished his monthly review of Free Skondia Mutineers' Military Personnel. “Sathen, why will you not answer my question?” “Because it is not a question worthy of answer.” He stopped in midstream of his Army, uncaring of the disruption this created, and focused the full intensity of his Cleansing eyes on his aide. The moment stretched as Sheikh attempted to hold his gaze, his growing agitation plain. He finally lowered his eyes. A soft murmur of voices reached him, and Sathen did not realize that all non-combatants who came within sight of their General immediately fell silent, conversation stopping as though shut off like a water spigot; even their careful jetting became more so. “Why don't we go to the surface?” Sathen repeated the question with an edge to his voice, causing those nearest him to shy away even farther; Sathen remained blithely unaware. He had great respect for his aide . . . why else had he not had the man slain for his arrogance? . . . , but there were times when he simply could not tolerate the Senior Colonel’s inability to grasp the obvious. Sheikh wished to seize command of a Military Unit at some point and begin to earn credibility by sealing his own deals. He’d never succeed in this goal if he did not think more quickly on his feet. “That's what I am asking.” The frustration was plain on Sheikh’s face. “I didn't question when we simply allowed Clan Star Diamond Shark to keep a foothold on the Ampheres Island Complex . . . several months when we might have eradicated them and begun bringing enlightenment to this darkened world. And no, the New Grange YardShip did not count as any sort of activity for either of us and you know it. Then four DropShips land at our SpacePort, once more, inactivity.” He has been storing this up, waiting to expel it when the opportunity presented itself. Sathen withheld his response, to see where this might lead. “Now a two week have passed, once more we sit, wasting time.” He began to pace and the flow of Free Skondia Mutineers' smoothly bowed around his tight path of agitated walking . . . a stone the water gave no heed to beyond making room for its presence. “General Sathen Sakamoto, I don't mean to second-guess your decision, but why else did Council Leader Gregoriy Kamarov send us here? Aren't we tasked with contacting this world? They've been in the dark for almost two years. They'll be desperate, hungry for outside contact. Their economies will have suffered and we will be their salvation: The FSM Division of Free Skondia Mutineers to rain gold upon their heads and bring them news from afar. The potential is enormous. And . . . yet . . . we . . . sit!” Stopping, facing Sathen, Sheikh held his head up and met his General’s gaze unflinchingly, knowing Sathen might have shot him on the spot for such insolence. The man was no coward. If his death were to come, so be it. Sathen could not help but admire his aide; he knew how upset he must be to have gone through so many words without a single sarcastic comment. He took pity on him. “Think, Sheikh. I know my directive. I know the other Cells are already gathering, like shivers of sharks hunting for the choicest feeding grounds. Why would I wait eight months, any of which could be the beginning of more Victories?” A long moment passed as Sheikh struggled within for the answer he knew to be there; he had been Sathen’s aide far too long to believe a reason did not exist. The slow light of understanding began to blossom. “You have information.” “Of course I have information. Of what?” “That a defeat of these mercenaries is the key to this region. You wait because they will only become important later. Once the real prize has been taken.” Sathen applauded silently, as though rewarding a first-year Private who’d answered correctly. “Now you begin to understand. And as much as I believe only I hold this information, I can't discount the possibility others may have obtained it and are already on their way. I curse this world for not having a larger population to double our speed. We make good time, nonetheless.” He turned and began walking again . . . the deliberate, careful steps natural to those accustomed to microgravity and jump packs . . . with Sheikh close behind. “The feeding ground is near Sheikh. Very near.” The river of Free Skondia Mutineers' closed and swallowed them into their current without a ripple. Word Count 1590 ……………….. General Sathen Sakamoto Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineer TN Like This Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino Posted Image Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #22 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #22] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 29 July 2016 - 05:10 PM DC-RD-06-02 #22 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Downtown CMHHS 13th March 3093 16:00:00 Local The Skondia Ministry of Health and Human Services House was not a house in any conventional sense, unless a building as big as a large DropShip fit the bill. At a hundred fifty meters on a side and half that in height, the mammoth structure seemed a monument to medicine. And though Tai-sa Onishi Razan could certainly respect that, she had no previous experience brokering in the commodity her own Officers were attempting to secure. The odor was . . . overpowering. Born and raised in a mansion , where she breathed air scrubbed clean with almost religious regularity, she became unnaturally attuned to discerning scents. It was a strength she enjoyed and used to her advantage . . . in most situations. Not even the close confines of the Black Ronin following the breakdown of one of the primary air scrubbers, however, could compare with the smell of the Health and Human Services. Now it was a weakness. . . . “Tai-sa Razan.” She turned to see Chu-i Karen Tsan, the officer in charge of Logistics in the Ronins, striding toward her from the small door Onishi had exited a short while earlier. Though Onishi stood almost fifteen meters from the door, the odor managed to escape during the brief opening and oozed across the ground like a living creature bent on assaulting the man who tried to flee its grasp. The Tai-sa’s nose tingled and scrunched, remembered tears almost began to flow once more. How the other officers could talk so long and not vomit with the odor of so much radiation decaying flesh and feces stuck in the back of their throats, she did not understand. “Karen,” she acknowledged. Though Karen was young for her station, her quick mind matched her flashing sapphire eyes. Her attractive features . . . particularly her pert nose and delicate chin . . . allowed her to look like eye candy, throwing off the unwary, or commanding with equal ease; Karen used both qualities well and seized her position with a savagery barely contained within her petite body. A shame her abilities did not allow her to participate equally in the negotiation table and the battlefield. “Tai-sa Razan, I thought I might find you here. The stench is too much?” Blunt as ever. Onishi stiffened for a moment and then relaxed. She looked away and gazed down the hill toward the city of Platinum City, and could just make out the egg-shaped form of the Black Ronin at the far-distant DropPort. The Ministry of Health and Human Services Building, on a hill overlooking the entire area, held a commanding view. Onishi breathed in the blissfully sweet-smelling air; it calmed her. “What have we accomplished so far?” Karen smiled, though the humor did not lighten her eyes. “The CSMHHS served as Skondia's leading relief station and provided shelter for a large number of people injured in the nuclear bombing. The victims died one after another, suffering from the then unknown symptoms unique to a radiation disease.” “The nuclear bombing inflicted a crushing blow on Platinum City' existing medical treatment system. The surviving doctors and nurses began relief activities, but the lack of equipment and supplies made it impossible to provide even first-aid. We have started HAZMAT relief trains in the interim traveling into the areas still spiking our Geiger counters at 850 mill roentgens near the hypocenter and are carrying victims to hospitals in nearby towns. A naval hospital relief team entered landed on the Gilbralter Islands last night, and during the night rescue teams comprised mainly of volunteer guard and fire-fighting brigades from the neighboring towns arrived to assist the victims.” Onishi raised eyebrows were blunt question marks. As the ranking military officer on world, she should have know this, after all. But the distractions seemed too much. She’d been off her game. Weakness. “You’ve managed an excellent relief effort,” Onishi said, hating herself for deflecting the unasked questions. “Thank You, Tai-sa. If this is any indication of what the rest of this mission will be like, I don’t relish the coming months.” “At this rate, it will be years?” “It will Tai-sa Razan. Yes, it will. ” Her eyes became brighter, if that was possible. “I assume the first DropShips are already on their way?” “Of course. I signed off on them almost a week ago and on my own authority I ordered four DropShips to begin a high-speed burn to planet. The evacuations will commence within the week and we want the radiation neutralize and our patients stable before we prepare to move them.” “A week ago? You must be slipping, Karen. You inevitably spring mere days after you’re in position.” Karen Tsang shook her head and waved her delicate hand. “All the more media attention when it’s finished, Tai-sa Razan. You, of all people, should know that.” She winked at her double entendre. The double meaning once more. Again, twin question marks stabbed upward on her forehead and Onishi turned away. If she could not answer the questions herself, how could she answer Karen? Was she turning into her own aide, Sho-ka Akita Fujinaka, now? Constantly probing? “Keep me apprised of the situation. I’ll join you tomorrow to address the Surgeon General.” Like all her Command Staff, they knew when they were dismissed. “Yes, Tai-sa Razan.” The sound of feet displacing gravel chewed into the morning. The door opening and closing . . . releasing another wave of odor . . . caused her to hitch her shoulders against it and she felt disgust at herself. Such weakness! Onishi turned sharply and stalked through the gravel toward the wall of the Skondia Ministry Health and Human Services building, her eyes seeing the path her own feet had trod numerous times around the circumference of the building. Her frustration pulsed brighter at this blatant sign of her own inability to confront the situation. Inability to confront, because the agent couldn’t be found! The sweet air was forgotten as her mind raced. For almost two weeks she had attempted to contact this Snow. At first, she assumed Snow would contact her. Several days passed unnoticed as Onishi immersed herself in planning with Skondia’s medical community, but the slow realization that the Mysterious Agent had not made an appearance began to distract her. To disrupt her thoughts. She even began to make mistakes, which cost them days of planning. Five days ago she began to walk through the streets of Platinum City. Ostensibly to garner more information on the inhabitants, which might be used to aid them if and when Free Skondia Mutineers made a concerted effort to overthrow them. In reality, she moved to let her whereabouts be known. Perhaps she simply didn’t know Razan’s Ronins were on planet. Onishi rounded the corner of the building and came to one of the mammoth doors towering almost twenty meters above her and twice as wide. The gurneys were driven to and from the building through this main artery, with secondary arteries on the other side of the building only used when the flow of human remains grew too great. The odor wafted out of the structure like heat eddies, almost visible. She began to gag slightly and tears once more slicked the back of her eyes. Her frustration grew until it engulfed her. Though her nostrils tried to close against the assault and her feet to move away of their own accord, her iron will kept her nose open and her feet firmly planted while she drew in a huge lung full of vileness. She managed to have a data cube deposited on my ship. The Agent could not possibly be so clueless as to not know we are here. The echo of her own thoughts from three days ago now rang in her head and pushed out the sensory torment she put herself through. With new determination, Onishi began canvassing the town at night, showing herself in every filthy dive and out-of-the-way bar she could find. All to no avail. Onishi began to wonder if the Agent even existed. She thumbed the data cube in a small side pocket of her single-suit . . . a talisman to keep her vulnerability, her frustration, at bay. She willed her body back under her control, taking in another lungful of air, forcing herself to glory in it. The Agent did exist, and when Onishi found her, she’d snap her neck. Onishi strode forward, marching back into the ‘battle’. Word Count 1463 Edited by Oni, 31 July 2016 - 05:14 AM. Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image ..............................................Posted Image Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #23 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #23] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points Posted 31 July 2016 - 08:00 AM DC-RD-06-02 #23 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Industrial Park 13th March 3093 17:00:00 Local “No enemy sightings to report Sroyadin.” Chu-i Tang frowned at the report. It wasn’t that she mistrusted the information. Sho-ka Ka Cheong Chan was DEST and a good man and well experienced in scouting missions. That was why she had chosen his KAGE squad of DEST troopers to help in this scouting mission. With her Dragon Sword lance under strength until Go-cho Nelson 'Poindexter' Noia returned from medical leave, it had seemed prudent to use combined assets to their advantage. This trip was a recon in force but with only the three ‘Mechs to her new lance she had pulled in other forces from Razan’s Ronins to supplement her unit. The KAGE armor used by their DEST troops had a maximum jumping range of 90 meters. Unlike the DCMS' other KAGE squads however, every KAGE-equipped member of the squad carried a Small Anti-Mech grade Laser. Their DEST Infiltration KAGE Suits were a type of armor used by DEST operatives during espionage and other operations. The armor was woven with a black synthetic Kevlar fiber for protection against shrapnel and other low-velocity weapons. To reduce the wearer's infrared signature, within the synthetic fiber was a layer of thermo-conductive mesh that absorbed and radiated body heat evenly into the surrounding atmosphere. Also included was extreme weather insulation and body monitors which detected the wearer's vital signs. The armor is completed by a faceplate which incorporates a high-resolution video screen capable of infrared vision as well as anti-glare measures. A miniature computer and sensor system presents the wearer with a 360-degree field of view. “Roger that Chan. Any problems with the locals?” “Negative ma’am. The food manufacturing factories aren’t back to full production yet. I guess Free Skondia Mutineers caused more damage in the area then we feared. What few civilian workers are out and about just get out of our way and then go back to what they were doing.” She sighed heavily as she considered this turn of events. In a way, she would have preferred having to fight for every inch of land. If the enemy was attacking you at least you had some idea of where they were and what they were up to. “How about the view from above? Anything to report Bahnken?” Sho-ka Gerard Bahnken peered towards the ground from the skies as he patrolled the area in his Suzaku VTOL. Having a C3 Slave unit permanently mounted, the Suzaku excelled in the role as the spotter for the lance. “Not a thing. All we can see from here is civilian traffic, and damned little of that. It looks like the enemy has abandoned the area.” Sroyadin considered this for a moment to absorb the full implications. If the enemy was not contesting this area then they had to be concentrating elsewhere. She was not as of yet convinced though that they were gone…or that they had not left behind some ugly surprises. That was why she was searching every inch of this industrial park. Men on foot, eyes in the sky, all the sensors that their ‘Mechs packed….anything and everything they could do to make sure nothing escaped their attention. Sroyadin relied predominately on the unit’s Tessen TSN-X-4 fifty ton BattleMech to achieve her mission, the machine that the recon lance was built around. This Tessen variant mounted Light Ferro-Fibrous armor and removed the C3 and electronics systems of the standard version and replaces them with a Bloodhound Active Probe, an Angel ECM Suite, and a C3 Remote Dispenser and four tons of ammunition The Tessen began as a joint project between the Draconis Combine and ComStar to build a heavy scout 'Mech. The Tessen is built on a lightweight Endo Steel chassis and is powered by a lightweight Vlar 300 XL engine, giving the 'Mech a top speed of 97.2 km/h. The Angel ECM Suite is an experimental version of the Guardian ECM Suite operating on a broader spectrum and greatly advances ECM technology on the battlefield. The Angel ECM Suite represents a great advance in ECM technology from the standard Guardian model. Within its 180 meter radius of effect, the Angel suite completely blocks the following systems on enemy units: Artemis IV, Artemis V, Beagle Active Probes, Bloodhound Active Probes and their Clan equivalents, C3 Master Computers and C3 Slaves, Streak Missile Launchers and Narc missile beacons. Streak missiles may be fired at units affected by the device, but they function as standard missiles. The Bloodhound Active Probe was first introduced by ComStar in 3058. After the Clan Invasion the Draconis Combine saw a need to improve their already formidable electronic warfare capabilities. Using the Beagle Active Probe as a baseline, technicians created a probe that had a range of 240 meters and could penetrate advanced stealth systems. Testing proved conclusively that a Bloodhound-equipped 'Mech could spot units equipped with Null Signature Systems, Void Signature Systems, Stealth Armor, and ECM Suites. The Bloodhound can also detect battle armor units equipped with ECM systems, Mimetic Armor, or any kind of Stealth Armor. In addition to the Tessen her recon lance included a Kimodo KIM-3C variant. The 3C variant was a radical modification of the Komodo that makes it capable of commanding a C3 lance. This is done by removing two double heat sinks and two Medium Lasers as well as the TAG designator and adding a C3 Master Computer. The Komodo was designed to hunt and kill Clan Elemental Battle Armor. The 'Mech is built to be able to catch up to and destroy them with exceptional speed and maneuverability. The 'Mech is powered by a Icarus 225 XL Engine that propels the 'Mech to a maximum speed of 86.4 kph. The Komodo can jump up to one hundred and fifty meters allowing it to traverse just about any terrain with ease, and is armored with seven and a half tons of armor. The 'Mech is also equipped with a Matabushi Guardian ECM Suite to defend against any enemy electronic warfare systems. The Komodo is armed with eight Victory 23R Medium Lasers as its primary weapons. While these have a range of only 270 meters, the 'Mech has enough firepower to decimate an entire point of Elementals. The 'Mech is also armed with two Yori Flyswatter Anti-Missile Systems to defend against missile attacks. Finally there was her ‘Mech from which she commanded the lance from, a Hitotsume Kozo HK-1F. Built by Luthien Armor Works of New Samarkand, the Hitotsume Kozo was a medium BattleMech designed to serve in the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery. This 'Mech's creation was partially influenced by an unofficial cultural rebirth. Keeping this in mind, LAW styled the appearance of the Hitotsume Kozo after the ancient Japanese Bushido armor worn by the samurai warriors during that time period on Terra. The Hitotsume Kozo's main weapon is its shoulder-mounted Lord’s Light 3 Heavy Particle Projection Cannon. The weapon is backed up by a pair of Diverse Optics Type 20X Extended-Range Medium Lasers mounted in its left arm. For melee combat, the 'Mech has a hatchet in the right arm. The weapon has been stylized to appear to be an ancient Japanese double-ended sickle. The 'Mech is powered by 330-rated Extra-Light Fusion Engine, which gives it enough power to overcome the slight reduction in mobility caused by its 14.5 tons of Hardened Armor. The Hitotsume Kozo's movement and physical attacks are greatly enhanced when it gains enough heat to active its Triple Strength Myomer. For tactical movement, the Hitotsume Kozo has four model Icarus 81 standard Jump Jets. “Alright then Dragon Sword. As planned we begin a full search grid. Keep the sensors open and let me know anything that doesn’t look right.” The other two ‘Mechs in her unit, the ones which actually had pilots at this point, formed up on her machine and began doing their sensor sweep. Elsewhere armored infantrymen on foot were doing the same. They would search the buildings, the sewers, the shallow water off shore, anywhere that they could reach. Just a few moments into the search Shujin Ryan 'Norseman' Rasmusen’s voice came over her communications console from his Tessen. “I don’t understand Chu-i. What exactly are we looking for? There obviously aren’t any ‘Mechs here. I don’t think that there are any enemy infantry either or we would have seen them by now. What do you think we will find?” She spared a glance out of the canopy of her own ‘Mech. This Hitotsume Kozo was a new ride for her and would take some getting used to, as would the new pilots she was working with. MyKayla had said that Ryan was sometimes argumentative but a good pilot. He was just going to need a firm hand until he got enough experience. Fortunately, she was more than able to keep him in line just as MyKayla had. “Shujin, you’ve read the training logs. How many times have Razan’s Ronins surprised the computer controlled AI with unorthodox tactics?” “Lots of times I suppose,” he said, with just a hint of uncertainty in his voice. How did he always wind up with the demanding female commanders? he wondered. “Exactly. Lots of times. We have seen very little of the enemy since landing yet we know that they are here, somewhere. If it were us defending the planet I could almost guarantee that the Tai-sa or one of the Chu-I’s would have cooked up some plan to hinder the enemy while we regrouped. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find explosives hidden in the streets or an underground subway tunnel that they could use to bring ‘Mechs in under our noses. Do you want to be the one to wake up and find that a lance of Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs snuck up on you while you slept?” There was a long moment before Ryan replied with a simple “No ma’am.” “Good. Then we will search everything thoroughly. Even if we don’t find anything that they have done we might find something that we ourselves can use in the future. Now, get back to work.” As she checked her instruments and began her own sensor sweep Sroyadin considered the one other purpose of a long, involved search of the area. Until such time as they did have contact with the enemy, she would need to keep her people busy and sharp. If that meant long hours in the field then so be it. It would sure as hell beat being caught unawares. WORD COUNT 1823 Sroyadin Tang Cha-Cha Chu-i Hitotsume Kozo Dragon Sword Ronin Legion Razan’s Ronins CO Dragon Sword Lance MyKayla Edited by MyKayla, 31 July 2016 - 09:11 AM. Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #24 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #24] Cricket Lieutenant Senior Grade Razan's Ronins 716 posts 0 warning points LocationFreeburg, IL USA Posted 01 August 2016 - 09:28 PM DC-RD-06-02 #24 Craven Plateau Bangalore region Steen continent Skondia 13th March, 3093 2130 hours, local time Reece had the Steel Dragon Company moving out of the Skondia Starport. Reece had orders to rendevous with Skondia Militia. Skondia Militia had landed on the Craven Plateau which was near the mountains north of Platinum City. The Steel Dragon Company was moving at the flank speed of the Narukami. After several hours, the Steel Dragon Company arrived at the Skondia Militia LZ. The Militia had a perimeter guard. Reece climbed out of the Narukami and approached the guard. He informed the guard that he was expected and asked speak with Major Kochel. Major Kochel arrived and talked with Reece. Major Kochel informed Reece that the Planetary Defense Forc would be ready within an hour. Reece informed Major Kochel that the Ronins would be waiting for them at the perimeter. In an hour, the Planetary Defense Forces Armor Company had packed their gear and loaded up in their tanks. They then moved out to meet the Steel Dragon Company at the peritmeter. The two units cruised back toward Skondia’s Starport. Along the way, they did not encounter any of the Free Skondia Mutineers forces. After another couple of hours, the two armored companies arrived at the Starport. < Transit Flashback > Reece walked with a slight limp from the last exercise and the grav boots only enhanced the pain level. He was walking toward Razan’s quarters to give her a latest briefing. Her quarters were on the Razan’s Ronins flagship called the Black Ronin. The Black Ronin was attached to the Star Lord Class jumpship, the Red Stroke, that was sitting at the nadir jumppoint. He reached the second deck and continued toward her quarters. As he walked he was remembering the last exercise, it was an exercise for the infantry and Reece had the two armored stars participating as infantrymen. During the exercise, Reece was leading his two tankers made into three squads. Reece had dived for some brush to act as cover. But to his surprise as he rolled up to his feet, there was no ground below him. There was a vertical tunnel down to a cave and it was a 30 meter fall. Reece landed hard with his left leg in severe pain. He tested the leg and realized that it was not broken. His squad came up to the brush and found the tunnel. They called down to him and he responded. One member used a rope to repel down to Reece. Reece hobbled to the rope and was pulled back up. They threw down the rope for the one guy to climb back up. The squads had a medical team to respond. Reece spent several hours in the medical facility. Doctors informed him that nothing was broken but he had a sprained ankle and knee with a bruised hip joint. They suggested that he rest the leg as much as he could. Reece stopped thinking about his injury when he reached Razan’s quarters. He knew the door was unlocked but he knocked once and then entered. He tried to walk normally. He briefed Razan about the blown hatch seal and repairs were under way. Razan and Reece threw a few barbs back and forth but Reece calmed Razan down when she became angry. Then Razan dismissed Reece, he understood she wanted to be alone. Reece departed her quarters and headed straight back to his quarters on the ‘Tempest Fury’ to put heat pads on his knee and ankle plus elevate his injured leg. He went through the main hatch into the Star Lord Class Jumpship. He proceeded down through the corridor until he arrived at the main hatch to the Gazelle Class Dropship. He passed through the hatch and then down to his quarters on Deck One. As a precaution, Reece used the intercom to relay some orders to the Ronins and ‘Tempest Fury’ crew. He requested that the crew double check all seals on the ‘Tempest Fury’ and carry rebreathers in case atmosphere is lost. He ordered the Ronins to carry rebreathers and if atmosphere is lost, they were to man their vehicles or suits. Reece then began thinking of the landing on Skondia. He agreed with Razan about hot dropping the Dragon Sword Lance first so they could act as the first line of defense for the dropship. Then, Sho-i Johnny Yee would have the ‘Black Ronin’ land on one of the starports landing pads and discharge the remaining units. Sho-i Georgi Draganov and Reece discussed the landing of the ‘Tempest Fury’. Sho-i Georgi Draganov agreed to bring in the Gazelle hot and fast toward the starport aerodyne runway and then Sho-i Georgi Draganov would kick in the thrusters almost to 100% power to put the ‘Tempest Fury’ on a short landing if thrusters held out and the landing gear took the beating. Sho-i Georgi Draganov also agreed to pull the Gazelle off the runway onto a supporting taxiway. He would drop the double ramps for the two armored lances to offload fast. Then, Sho-i Georgi Draganov would close the ramps and head down toward the ‘Black Ronin’. The Ronins were then to clear the starport of any enemy units. The armored section would head to the starport command center and controller facility. Reece had agrued with Razan about their landing zone. Reece pushed for landing at the Starport because there was only one true way on land to attack it. Three sides basically had water protecting it if you included the swamp section to the east which leads to water. Only mechs or battle armor would dare go underwater for an assault. Underwater was slow and falling was easy with enormous damage potential. Infantry could use boats or underwater gear but they became prey for any large predators in the area. WC = 1,109 Edited by Oni, 02 August 2016 - 01:29 PM. Like This Name: Kasumi 'Badger' McKenna Rank: Primus Sarcina Recter (Colonel) Position: Black Wolf Rangers Brigade Executive Officer 2nd Ranger Expeditionary Force Commanding Officer Assigned Battlemech: Mad Cat Mk II Assigned Unit: Black Wolves Rangers 2nd Ranger Expeditionary Force – Storm Wolves Black Wolf Rangers Mercenary Brigade Title: Knight Protector of Cimeron Name: Elijah 'Cricket' Callahan Rank: Major Position: Battalion Commanding Officer Assigned Battlemech: Timber Wolf S "Night Shadow" Assigned Unit: Marauder Striker Company CO, Bloody Marauders Battalion, sub-unit Black Stars Mercenary Regiment Name: Reece 'Budda's Fist' Kimura Rank: Chu-i Assigned: Narukami Heavy Tank Assigned Unit: Dragon Scale Lance Razan's Ronins Name: Phoenix 'Dragon' Magnus Rank: MechWarrior Sergeant Position: 2nd in Medium Lance Assigned Battlemech: Clint CLNT-2-3U Assigned Unit: Battlemech Company, Storm's Armored Cavalry Former: CO of Royal Corvax Cluster Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #25 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #25] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points Posted 03 August 2016 - 09:07 AM DC-RD-06-02 #25 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Staging Area 13th March 3093 17:30:00 Local They had been here on Skondia for almost two weeks, and so far the Free Skondia Mutineers forces had remained hidden. Sho-ka MyKayla ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ knew how easy it was to get lulled into a false sense of security with no contact happening and her troops were on edge. She had to do something soon or they might loose their edge. After deliberation with Tai-sa Onishi Razan, MyKayla had persuaded her to send a lance into Passageway and see what happens. Maybe they could shake up the wasp nest and bring the bugs out to play. Gathered before MyKayla was her lance’s pilots, Dragon Claw, and members from Steel Dragon Company, the DEST Section, Stealthy Dragon and Dragon Flights. "Thank you all for being prompt," MyKayla began. "I am sure you are wondering why you are all gathered here, so I will get right to the point." "Tonight we are going to see if we can get a reaction out of Free Skondia Mutineers. Look around you and you will see people form every facet of Razan’s Ronins," She says pausing. "As you know, we have been here thirteen days now and nothing has happened. The rats are hiding in their rat holes waiting for us to make a mistake," ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ says coldly "Well today we are going into Passageway proper." As she pauses she hears the mummers and waits for them all to die down before continuing. "We will try to do as little as possible collateral damage to the city but hopefully if we shake the tree hard enough something will fall out," She calmly states to the assembled. "Stealthy Dragon Flight combined with Sho-i’s Torii ‘Nemesis’ Nashiro’s and Mustafa ‘Gunslinger’ Asif’s Koroshiyas will be our eyes in the sky as well as scouting and strafing when they can find a target. Chan, Ndang, and Vu it is good to work directly with your teams again. Kang we are glad to have you and your crew join us too. This is a solid team and I do not doubt we can face off against anything they throw at us. Any questions so far?" She inquires. Mumbling "It's about damn time." Gunjin Bai Deshimaru, replies. "Sho-ka, what if they use a tactical nuke." Go-cho Eniwa Fuchizaki, a KAGE DEST armor pilot, asks. "Come on girl, don't ask such stupid questions. Don't be scared." Bai says sarcastically. “Pbbbt. Scared? I’m concerned about civilian casualties Gunjin. Ain’t nobody hardly scared.” "That will be enough of that Bai. Go-cho if they use a nuke on us then we die plain and simple, civilian casualty increase and we fail our mission, but I am banking that they won’t." MyKayla said smiling. "They did on the Diamond Sharks." Gunner Stanimir Daskalov from Kang’s Sabaku Kaze Scout tank crew says. "Do you truly think that if they had anymore nukes and we’re going to pursue them, they wouldn't point them at this area and get as many as possible? Not on a lone lance?" MyKayla said angrily as her patience starts to wear thin. "If you are truly afraid of dying then you need to pick a different profession." "Any more questions?" she asks once again and when no one has any she then continues. "Good we should be inside the city by oh 1900 to 1945, no later. ‘Nemesis’, I want you guys to fly a pattern to see if anything is out there, but be careful as we don't know what they have, anti-aircraft munitions, flak guns, hand held AA missiles." “Hai, Sho-ka,” acknowledged Torii Nashiro. "We have limited practice in city fighting so some of you will learn on the fly so to speak. Remember the consequences if you run on pavement. This warning is meant for my ‘Mech warriors. If you aren't careful you will meet the ferrocrette or slide into a building. Neither are forgiving," MyKayla states "Also be careful of hidden units and DO NOT go chasing off anything looking suspicious by yourself. If you see something, shout it out. It is too easy to get trapped and/or cut off inside a city." "No kidding." Bai says looking at ‘Tokoyo’. "Also do not jump on any buildings. We don't know if they will hold your weight or not without city schematics or if they have been weakened or rigged with explosives," she states as an admonishment. "I will be in the lead, being the heaviest in my Daboku, Shujin Tebi Bessho’s Shiro will have the rear, left flank is Chickamoto’s Ha Otoko, and Deshimaru you and your Rokurokubi are on the right. Infantry and armor will hunt out in front of us." "If nothing further, grab chow and then get geared up, we leave in 45 minutes." Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City 13th March 3093 19:00:00 Local Thirteen days since they had landed and all they had to show for it was a couple of aero space fighters, which had attacked the main body on the way down. This is not like them to hide, so they must be waiting for something. This was once a proud city once, MyKayla thinks. Thousands lived, work and called Passageway home, their children played in the streets. Under the protection of their ‘Masters’ they had prospered but then came the beginning of their woes. Clan Diamond Shark attacked and took over sovereignty of their planet. Then for some reason, Free Skondia Mutineers decided they wanted this planet so there must be something worth while here. "Approaching 23rd Avenue." Shujin Leonard Kang, the Sabaku Kaze Heavy Scout Hover Tank Commander, says to the group from his position out in front on point in the formation. None of Razan’s Ronins assets could actually ‘see’ one another until they reached an intersection due to the intervening buildings and structures. However, they were all tracking each other via the radar pings. "Roger. We hold to our plan and we will hopefully find something, since all patrols have come up empty handed. " ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ responds "Watch your sensors closely as the metal in these buildings will interfere." What happened here is a crime against every man and woman alive and Free Skondia Mutineers must be made to pay for their horrid transgressions. How could any sane man order this destruction and devastation against people who only want to make a living and raise a family? "Passing 24th Avenue and nothing yet, Sho-ka." Kang says with contempt in his voice as he views the utter and complete devastation reeked upon Skondia. "Roger Shujin," MyKayla replies. They were getting frustrated as they were trained to fight not to sit and wait for a foe that is known to use dirty tactics. Perhaps that was the enemy plan, let us tear each other apart in the long run. Suddenly the silence is broken. "‘Sy-Berian Starr’, this is ‘Gunslinger’, Bogies inbound. Your location. I am taking fire in sector 11B." "Roger ‘Gunslinger’, understand bogies inbound. On our way," MyKayla responded. "Ok boys and girls this is where we earn our pay. Be careful and make every shot count." "‘Sy-Berian Starr’, ‘Gunslinger’ here. I have 6 ‘Mechs, I repeat six ‘Mechs inbound and flaring high heat signatures. They are hostiles and coming in hot." "Roger, ‘Gunslinger’ copy six ‘Mechs, hostiles, and Hot. Any identification?. Over." "Trying but the buildings are making it too difficult." "Roger, damage status?" "Minimal so far, Engaging a Ostsol OTL-9M." "Ok folks tighten up, remember try to minimize civilian property damage if possible." ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ reminded her ground forces. "‘Sy-Berian Starr’, ‘Brick’ here. I have six ‘Mechs on sensor now. One - Wolverine WVR-9M, One - Griffin GRF-5M, One - Rifleman RFL-7M, One - Shadow Hawk SHD-5S, One - Apollo APL-4M and One - Ostol OTL-9M. " "Roger ‘Brick’. Copy, Lets take them Dragon Claws," MyKayla says grimly as she switches to battalion command. "Razan’s Ronins Actual this is Dragon Claw Actual. Have found an enemy element and am engaging. Appears to be some sort of a hybrid medium Level II, its six ‘Mechs, not a Star nor a Lance." "Dragon Claw Actual, Razan’s Ronins Actual, Copy, Good Hunting." ‘Rough Ryder’ says wishing it was her and not MyKala out there. Well that could be remedied easily enough. The Tai-sa leaves the Daimyo to go suit up and get her battlemech prepared to move out. ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ moves her Daboku DCMS-MX90-D into the middle of the intersection of 26th and 15th streets to engage the Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs. She watched as the two heavy Koroshiyas strafe the enemy ‘Mechs and was glad that they were on her side and not against her folks. She is shaken out of her reverie as missiles streak past her hitting a rotted out building to her right. As she scans the battlefield she sees the Sabaku Kaze trying to light up the Wolverine but apparently it’s missiles can not achieve lock even as three of his four extended range medium laser did. A bolt of cerulean blue lighting steaks across the intersection striking the Apollo in its left arm melting off armor. It is quickly followed by ruby red beams, auto cannon shells, plasma rays, and trails of white smoke as ‘Tokoyo’ lets loose with all of his weapons. Not to be out done Bai sends a stream of visible red light from his Rokurokubi across the avenue hitting the Wolverine, blasting off armor form its torsos and right arm. MyKayla quickly pulls her trigger as three streams of .30mm auto cannon shells, interspersed with a tracer round after every fifth live round, leapt out striking the Wolverine hitting it in both of its arms. ‘Brick’ stepped around a gutted office building and unleashes hell from his Clan tech ‘Mech, a Shiro; a SH-1V variant, at the Apollo. One missile rack narrowly missed but the remaining three 10 racks, all thirty missiles, struck the ‘Mech with a vengeance. Tearing off armor from it’s right torso and destroying what was left of the Apollo's left arm. The Apollo staggered under the onslaught trying to keep its footing and fails, crashing to the ground on its left side. MyKayla may as well lend her fire power to taking down the Wolverine ‘Mech and perhaps they could take down one quickly. As she gets tone and the targeting reticule turns gold she unleashed both of her arm mounted large laser, searing off more armor from the already damaged left arm and center torso. Only internal structure is showing through the rents in the Wolverine’s armor now. Suddenly, blue beams of energy and missile contrails rain from the heavens as ‘Nemesis’ lets loose a volley of heavy PPC fire and medium range air-to-ground missiles at the Rifleman. She is good. Free Skondia Mutineers colored rivulets of molten armor and chunks of internal structure drop to the pavement below. So far the battle has been one sided in favor of the Ronins, MyKayla thinks but she knows that can change in the blink of an eye on a battlefield. The Wolverine, trying to escape the punishment it has taken, ignites its jump jets and lands upon a depilated school building on the left side of the street. All they see is billowing smoke as the building collapses under his 55 ton bulk, bringing him plummeting back down through to its basement. The Apollo tries to get back up and fails once more, adding more damage to his already heavily damaged ‘Mech. The Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs try a bold maneuver as they all start to run on the slick pavement and the pilots are good, as none of them actually skid or fall. As they round the corner, headed out of the city, with MyKayla and the rest hot on their heels, they run into the Ronins infantry and armor. Chan’s KAGE DEST battle armor manages to hit the Apollo inflicting even more damage but failing to go critical but letting it know they were there and they meant business. Kang looses an Alpha strike with his four medium lasers, two small lasers, and twin short range missile rack - that Dragon four missiles each - at the Ostsol and hits with all eight weapons to the right side of the ‘Mech. Vu’s Kanazuchi battle armor squad sights the Rifleman and four red beams passed through the crowded intersection hitting the Rifleman’s center torso. MyKayla’s two long range missile ten packs achieve a lock and peppered the damaged ‘Mech all over it chest, legs, arms, and abdomen. As ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ came into view, the Ostsol decides to return Kang's favor, and as the ER medium laser shoot out their red beams, the Sabaku Kaze Heavy Scout Hover Tank comes to a stop. Its movement system damaged. "Get your crew out of there Kang!" ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ shouts getting no reply. ‘Tokoyo’ tore into the Apollo with vengeance on his mind, or perhaps it is a fear, that if he takes it out then they can not or will not use nuclear weapons against them. His plasma cannon missed but his long range missile ten pack and Heavy-Class Hyper-Assault Gauss Rifle did not. Armor flies off in sheets all over the place as hit after hit impacts on the badly damaged ‘Mech. The Pilot struggles to keep his footing under the murderous onslaught. Bai lets loose with his clan grade, extended range particle projection cannon and rips into the Rifleman. It’s his clan grade extended range medium laser that does the job however; as it strikes the center torso, melting off the last of its protection and going internal. He was rewarded to see the ‘Mech stop then go black as it lost all power. Its engine had been destroyed. "Take that you scum," he says over the radio. One down five to go he thinks. White smoke trails cross the sky and miss ‘Brick’s Shiro by a narrow margin slamming into a vacant apartment highrise. It was a shame as he had already engaged his targeting system on the Rifleman, doing even more destruction to the already dead ‘Mech. And if that isn't enough, ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ lent her weaponry to the fray that had been unleashed on the poor Rifleman, who had managed to fire off its weapons before taking so much damage. Its light gauss rifle managed to hit ‘Tokoyo's ‘Mech in the leg and he switched targets to ‘Brick’s Shiro hitting him with two of his ER medium lasers. MyKayla can not help but think how good this pilot was. Under all that fire, he had managed to keep his cool and even change targets hitting everything that he fired at. It would seem that the pilot of the Rifleman had inspired the pilot of the Apollo as the Apollo pilot fired one of his long range heavy (15) missile rack at the Shiro, scouring off armor and then switches targets to the Ronin Ha Otoko 2. Somehow he manages to disable ‘Tokoyo's right foot hampering her movement. Kashira Mya Vu’s Kanazuchi battle armor squad seized the initiative and launched its missiles at the Wolverine. Their missiles strike across the stricken ‘Mech, on its sensors. The ‘Mech starts to glow a bit on thermal imaging indicating that at least one of the missiles had managed to damage its delicate engine containment bottle causing the heat to spike. The Wolverine’s movement slowed noticeably, so it would appear that one of the missiles had also damaged something critical in the ‘Mechs foot actuator. The Shadow Hawk hit the Sabaku Kaze Heavy Scout Hover tank with its Large Laser but only scours off some armor from the rear. The damaged Sabaku Kaze fires its dual four packs worth of missiles once more at the Ostsol, blasting off even more armor in basketball size chunks but failing to bring the ‘Mech down. Vu strikes the Wolverine with her Kanazuchi squad’s anti-‘Mech grade medium laser, going internal, signaling the death blow for the ‘Mech as it crumbles to the pavement to move no more. Two down thinks Bai smiling. The Ostsol fires both of its light gauss rifles at ‘Tokoyo's Ha Otoko and hits knocking the ‘Mech to the ground. It collapses on its right side but even as he starts to fall ‘Tokoyo’ has the presence of mind to fire back. He is rewarded with two of the four ER medium lasers striking his attacker. Cursing in his native tongue, ‘Tokoyo’ tries to stand back up. Seeing ‘Tokoyo’ crash to the ferrocrete Bai forgets their differences and unleashes all of his weaponry as he gets the golden tone of target lock on the Ostsol. His Extended Range PPC sent megajoules of destruction cascading across the ‘Mechs center torso and the icy ropes of energy decides not to follow the pack and snakes down the right leg. A ruby red beam leapt out, and struck the ‘Mech, threatening to send it crashing down to the terrain like ‘Tokoyo's ‘Mech had done, but the pilot remained standing. Sensing one of theirs was down ‘Brick’ unleashed the hell that his Shiro is so famous for and the ‘Mech still stood. 'This will not do!' MyKayla thinks as the hairs for her targeting reticule turn gold and her headset is filled with a pure, resounding lock tone. Her first Large Laser struck the ‘Mech in the right leg as does her second one - sending the ‘Mech tumbling off balance to the ground with a loud crash. "Get up ‘Tokoyo’." ‘Brink’ called out over ‘Tokoyo’s personal frequency. They all watch as he struggled to get the Ha Otoko’s footing back. The Dragon Claw warriors witnessed both the Apollo and the Ostsol climb clawing and struggling to their feet. They were damaged but not out of the battle just yet it would seem. The brief reprieve is broken as four Kanazuchi medium laser lance out from a nearby strip mall at the Apollo. Not to be out done, Ndang's Raiden suited battle armor squad also targeted and fired Tsunami gauss rifles slugs upon the Ostsol as it, too, was getting up, striking it adding to the damage it had taken. The Apollo fires both of its long range missiles packs and fifteen missiles cross the road in quick time hitting ‘Bricks’ Shiro. He staggers but it will take more than this to unseat this veteran warrior. The Apollo again switches targets yet again and fires its last remaining weapon at ‘Tokoyo's damaged Ha Otoko adding to the damage. The enemy extended range medium laser manages to hit the ‘Mechs head assembly causing a shock of electrical current to cross Chickamoto’s neuro pathways. He struggle briefly to stay conscious and manages to do so because he knows, if he lost consciousness, he would be at the mercy of the enemy ‘Mechs. Kang and his vehicle crew had refused to leave the immobilized Sabaku Kaze and fired its dual short range missile four packs at the Ostol in an attempt to bring the ‘Mech down once more. Unbeknownst to Kang or his crew, the enemy pilot suffered from neural feedback and fell unconscious. The Shadow Hawk fires its Large laser at MyKayla's ‘Mech, striking it in the right arm just as ‘Tokoyo’ unleashes hell upon the Ostsol and his heat starts to climb with in his cockpit. His .30mm Hyper-Assault Gauss Rifle destroys the left leg of the ‘Mech as the mix of her ER mediums and LRM ten pack causes the ‘Mech to shed armor off all over the stricken ‘Mech as if it were molting. The Griffin who they had almost forgotten about, as it was attempting to flank them, shielded by the metal content in the surrounding buildings. Except for now, it was plastered by a beam of red ruby light of a ER medium laser and an ER PPC that coursed electric current across its entire body from Bai’ Rokurokubi. ‘Brick’ decides to lend his firepower to taking down the sneaky Griffin as well. All of his LRMs and two ER Medium Lasers hit the ‘Mech. Molten metal drips in rivulets like so much candle’s wax from the hellish wounds inflicted by the medium lasers caress and the left arm flies off into the strewn debris. The ‘Mechs heat spiked, showing that at least one of the LRMs had managed to pierce the engine’s shielding. Struggling to stay upright proves too much for the Griffin pilot and it falls. 'This is almost too easy.' ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ thinks as she locks her target reticule over the Shadow Hawk and fires her four scattershot LB-X .20mm auto cannons in an attempt to dissipate some heat. She is rewarded as the two streams of the armor piercing shells hit to the left side of the ‘Mech. The Ostsol, it would seem, was out of the fight, as it had quit moving. Its heat had spiked to unacceptable levels and the pilot had died though they had no clue that this was how the Ostol pilot had met his untimely demise until well after the fight was over.. "Ok Dragon Claws! It is time to wrap this up! Let’s finish the bastards!" ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ says smiling for it seems that the night belongs to Razan’s Ronins. As she looks on, the Apollo starts to run out of the city trying to get away and the Griffin gets back upon its feet. The battle armor troops of the unit continue to harass the enemy adding to the damage as does the immobile Sabaku Kaze. For unknown reasons the Apollo pilot fires into the air trying to take down the Koroshiya, hitting it, but only doing moderate damage. Kang threw the weight of his Sabaku Kaze into the fray against the Apollo hitting with his four Medium Laser and both SRM fours. To a heavily damaged ‘Mech such as the Apollo, SRM's are a nightmare, as they seek to go internal and take out systems. Both ‘Tokoyo’ and Bai poured their fire into the stricken Griffin. Armor flies off, adding to the mound of litter already accumulating around it. Droplets of molten metal dripped and flew off the ‘Mech under the devastating onslaught. Suddenly the ‘Mech goes ‘Nova’ as its fusion engine explodes, threatening to take all with it. Luckily none of the Ronins’ ‘Mechs are nearby but the city’s superstructure was not so lucky. The neighboring buildings take all the damage. Unfortunately the battle armor for the Ronins did not fair quite as well - they were in close proximity. Luckily, most only sustain damage but one KAGE trooper is killed and one incapacitated as the KAGE suits had the lightest armor. MyKayla can not help but feel a lack of remorse as the Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs take damage caused by their Griffins destruction. "That is Plague," she says. The Shadow Hawk lets MyKayla know it isn't out of the fight just yet as it’s Large Laser and medium pulse laser strike ‘Sy-Berian Starr’s ‘Mech in the left leg. ‘Brick’ again unleashes the Devil’s Due upon the Apollo and it staggers showing that one of the shots had hit the gyro – an internal component which functions to help move the ‘Mech and keep it upright. MyKayla added her weapons to the already damaged Apollo and was rewarded as the ‘Mech crashes to the ground no longer moving. ‘Nemesis’ swoops in showing all that her aero space fighter flight isn't out of the fight as blue man made lightning bolts strike the Shadow Hawk. A light gauss shell bounces off a wall in front of MyKayla's ‘Mech showering rocks but nothing more lethal. How the Shadow Hawk managed to escape was a mystery to them all but it did. In a direct communication to the fleeing pilot ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ says "Tell your master we have come for him. You and the rest of your kind will be made to pay. This I promise." Switching to battalion channel she begins. "Razan’s Ronins Actual, Dragon Claw Actual over." "Go ahead, Dragon Claw Actual." "Count 5 ‘Mechs destroyed, one by catastrophic fusion reactor failure. One heavily damaged managed to escape. Unit sustained Moderate damage," MyKayla smiles as she informs the Tai-i. WORD COUNT 4074 Edited by Oni, 04 August 2016 - 07:00 AM. Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #26 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #26] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 03 August 2016 - 09:14 AM DC-RD-06-02 #26 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside of Platinum City 13th March 3093 19:10:00 Local "Count 5 ‘Mechs destroyed, one by catastrophic fusion reactor failure. One heavily damaged managed to escape. Unit sustained Moderate damage," MyKayla smiles as she informs the Tai-i. “Whoa. Hold up. Wait a minute ‘Sy-Berian Starr’. It looks like you’ve got company headed your way,” She warned MyKayla even as Onishi pushed her Naginata’s throttle all the way up to the stop. Via the Ronins’ heavy theater mobile command unit, Chu-i Karen Tsang had been viewing the holotank displaying a real-time overview of the battlefield for her commander and a few additional officers. She had already alerted Onishi to several ‘blips’ in the area of their Dragon’s Claw Lance. Onishi had immediately smelled an ambush so had gathered up the warriors of her command lance and were even now headed to Dragon Claw’s location. The Tai-sa had a difficult time establishing her satellite uplink due to her harried preparations but it was finally coming on line. “Tsang, do you have positive ID’s on those bogies yet?” “Affirmative, Tai-sa. I am uploading them to your combat computer as we speak. IFF beacons confirm that we have twenty hostiles, that’s two zero hostiles, closing in on Dragon Claw’s AOE.” No sooner than Karen had given Onishi her report all twenty ‘Mechs popped up in stark relief on her satellite enhanced lookdown radar. There was no way Sho-ka MyKayla was even aware that her lance was about to be surrounded and stomped out like a bug, with the limitations imposed on her ‘Mechs standard doplar radar. A ‘Mechs standard radar had a range of two clicks. The noose was still five clicks out and closing. Onishi’s command lance, Dragon Fire Lance, was six and some change. Dragon’s Claw couldn’t even see the ‘Mechs yet. They were about to be boxed in by a light-medium and a light-heavy lance from west. A medium and a heavy lance to the east. And a light lance closing in from a heading due north. At a glance Onishi had saw the flaw in the enemy’s plan. And she fully planned to exploit it. The enemy light lance should have covered the southern approach and the heavy lance should have taken the north. As it were, the heavy and the light-heavy lance had the task of closing the back door, so to speak, and neither of them possessed the sheer speed that was required through the dense forests outside Platinum City. “Okay now, listen carefully MyKayla. I won’t have the opportunity to repeat what I am about to tell you. You need to perform a tactical withdrawal along the 225 degree radial . . .” “Huh? But why ‘Rough Ryder’? Didn’t you receive my SitRep? We hold the . . .” “MYKAYLA SHIZUKANI!!! Onegai kiite! ” Onishi paused to make sure that MyKayla was not still yammering but being obediently silent and listening. “You have five enemy lances currently vectoring in on your location. You can not detect them on your ‘Mech’s radar yet nor on seismic sensor. They are still four klicks out. Dragon’s Claw needs to perform a tactical withdrawal from the city. Fall back along the 225 radial. Do Not stop and engage but continue to fall back. I repeat, DO NOT stop to engage but fire on the run. Keep Moving! Help is on the way! Do you copy?” “Yes Sensei. I copy. ‘Sy-Berian Starr’ over and out,” replied MyKayla, all jubilance from her previous Sit Rep evaporated and replaced by a ‘no nonsense’ timbre to her voice. Speaking in rapid fire cadence Onishi switch channels as her ‘Mech, flanked by two Hatamotos and in the wake of a Banzai, crested a hill. “Tsang?” “Standing by Tai-sa,” said the efficient Daimyo Officer. “Scramble the Koroshiyas and dispatch the Suzakus. Full Combat loadouts. I need them on station Yesterday.” “Roger that Tai-sa.” “And Tsang, get me Major Rokuhara Maaka on the line.” “Aye, aye Tai-sa.” The Free Skondia Mutineers light lance would be the first one to engage the Strike Lance. Her Naginata’s warbook identified the enemy lance as a thirty five ton Falcon Hawk FNHK-9K1B and a Wolfhound WLF-3M. A thirty ton Hammer HMR-3P and a twenty ton Locust LCT-6M. Next Dragon’s Claw Lance would be beset by the light-medium and the light-heavy lance incoming from the west. That was partially by design. Onishi had instructed MyKayla to retreat her lance along the 225 radial. That was directly south west, taking them slightly away from the east, drawing them into the western attackers. It was a calculated risk. The light-medium lance would, in theory, be in engagement range a minute before the light-heavy lance and about the same time as her lance arrived to reinforce them. From the reports of her warbook, on the weapons mounted and armor each ‘Mech carried, she would rather engage these two lances rather the medium and heavy lances coming in from the east. The light-medium lance was comprised of a fifty ton Trebuchet TBT-8B, two forty five tonners, a Bloodhound B2-HND and a Hatchetman HCT-6M and a forty ton Hermes II HER-5S. The light heavy lance had four sixty ton ‘Mechs in it, an Anvil ANV-5M, an Ostroc OSR-2M, an Ostsol OTL-9M, and Rifleman RFL-7M. As opposed and in stark contrast to the two lances coming in from the east, a medium lance with a Shockwave SKW-2F, a Blackjack BJ2-OF, a Hunchback HBK-7X-4, and a Sarissa MN1-D. All of which are fifty ton mounts backed up by a heavy lance of a Marauder MAD-9M2, a Pandarus LFA-1X, an Orion ON3-MX, and a Perseus P1C – all weighed in at 75 tons. With the odds stacked against her Ronins, it was a no brainer to which lances they would rather engage. And with a little strategy and assistance from her on planet ally, Onishi Razan just might be able to extricate herself and her beleaguered command from this precarious situation. It had seemed like hours before Onishi was rewarded with the gruff sound of Major Rokuhara Maaka’ voice, but in reality it had taken less than thirty seconds. “ ‘Rough Ryder’, Logistics One. I have Major Rokuhara Maaka on the line. Over.” “Thank You L1.” “Go ahead Major,” the Logistics Officer prompted. “Yeah Sweetie, this is Major Rokuhara Maaka here. I hear you’ve gone and got yourself into a pickle. What can I do you for?” Onishi Razan bristled at being referred to as ‘Sweetie’. She fought the rising anger in her veins for the benefit of her command and played nice. “Tai-sa, err, Major Razan here . . .” She hoped the hostility didn’t bleed over into her voice. “I have four friendlies in danger of being overrun. Requesting immediate assistance to grid Alpha, Tango, Whiskey, One, Niner. Over.” “I can scramble the company and meet you there in fifteen minutes from now, seventeen minutes tops. Over.” “No can do Major Maaka. This conflict will be over in seventeen minutes. Hell with the forces we are arrayed against it will be over in five.” “That bad, huh? “ “Worse.” “I got two lances of hovers out on maneuvers. They could be there in four minutes.” “Send them! Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll have my HQ unit transmit up-to-date IFF codes.” “Roger. And good luck little lady.” “If luck isn’t four assault ‘Mech’s, I’ll have no use for it. Major Razan, over and out.” ……………… (four minutes later) True to his word, in four minutes, Razan’s Naginata was pinged by a lance of incoming Fulcrums and Saracens. They were screaming over the water a maximum velocity kicking up twelve to fifteen foot high rooster tails in there wakes. About the same time she overheard the steady rhythmic WHUMPA WHUMPA WHUMPA of VTOL rotor blades signaling that her attach ‘copters had arrived on station. “CONTACT! I’m painting a Falcon Hawk, Wolfhound, Hammer, and a . . . Damn! Matabushi Sentinel-4 targeting and tracking comp can’t identify it. Its moving too fast! Remember Dragon Claws, keep up our tactical retreat. Whoa! I just picked up four more bogies incoming from the . . . Phuk Me! MAKE THAT EIGHT TANGOS!!! WE HAVE EIGHT HOSTILES VECTORING IN ON OUR POSITION!!!” Switching over to MyKayla’s private frequency Onishi attempts to calm her by speaking in a matronly and soothing voice. “MyKayla, you must observe radio etiquette and I need you to stay calm. You will spook your lance.” “Yes Ma’am. Yes Tai-sa. But we’re engaging twelve Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs. And we are in danger of being surrounded. There’s one in my rear already. How long before we get some support?” “The ‘Mech to your rear is just a Locust. I need you to trust me and I will extract you and your lance from this unfortunate conundrum. Support will be arriving soon. Very soon.” Onishi witnessed the odd sight of the Ronin Banzai keeping pace with the lance of Saracen hover tanks as it engaged its supercharger. The 90 ton assault ‘Mech’s lumbering gait left twelve inch deep impressions in the terrain as it rapidly ate up real estate. The Suzaku VTOLs had easily outdistanced anything on the ground and would be in range to deliver their deadly payloads first. “Wha . . . but of course I trust you Tai-sa, implicitly,” Sho-ka MyKayla replied. Switching to the Dragon Claw broadband frequency Onishi instructed the entire lance, “Belie my last. Ignore the Locust . . . for now. I need Dragon’s Claw to Destroy the enemy Falcon Hawk. Per my satellite uplink, it appears that it is the focal point directing the other lances to converge on your location.” Onishi did not receive verbal acknowledgement of her order, Dragon Claw’s actions spoke volumes. The Strike Lance was already under fire with MyKayla drawing most of it. The Locust launched an Alpha strike at the Ronin 90 ton Daboku but through the heavy foliage and due to both ‘Mechs relative speed, it only connected with a small laser to the Daboku’s left arm. The Wolfhound connected with a light gauss rifle slug to the same arm but the Daboku‘s Wakazashi Standard Plate Armor held. The Falcon Hawk fire three ER medium lasers and an ER large and caught MyKayla’s ‘Mech with one medium and the large laser in its other arm and the attached side. Gunjin Bai Deshimaru’s Rokurokubi drew fire from the Hermes’ double rate 90mm auto cannon and a medium pulse laser which he nimbly dodged. Three ‘Mechs of Dargon’s Claw opened fire on the Falcon Hawk. Shujin Tebi Bessho’s Shiro, popped open the hatches on his four Long range missile bins and launched a total of forty warheads at 200 meters at the Falcon Hawk. Tebi connected with sixty five percent of the deadly warheads from the right side all across the smaller ‘Mechs chest, left, right, and center torsos and penetrated the right arm’s armor and disabled it. Arai Chickamoto’s Ha Otoko melted off more armor from the Falcon Hawk’s left torso and right leg with two out of four extended range medium lasers. The two that missed set off a dazzling display as they superheated and imploded two nearby trees. Bai who was busy dodging a barrage of autocannon fire from the enemy Hermes checked his orders, “Ronins Actual, DC4. Destroy not Neutralize?” “Affirmative Bai. Drop him.” The Rokurokubi had ‘chicken walker’ styled legs, a joint that bent in reverse to humanoid ‘Mechs. So by expanding or collapsing the myomers in its legs he could stoop down or stand up. Currently he was squatting behind a boulder but he quickly popped up and started tracking the Falcon Hawk through the dense tree coverage. The Falcon Hawks pilot was intent on coordinating its fellow lances and was totally unaware of what was about to happen. “Roger Tai-sa. I got this.” Bai laid the Rokurokubi’s left arm mounted ER PPC across his right arm much like a hunter lining up a shot on a deer. He led the Falcon Hawk to compensate for its speed. He didn’t fire as soon as he got a gold pulse nor tone but waited for a two count, “One . . . Two.” Before he released megajoules of man made lightning bolt across the short distance that separated the two machines. Bai’s aim was true as the lightning bolt ate through trees and jungle flotsam. At the last possible second, the pilot of the Falcon Hawk turned the ‘Mechs head in the direction of its impending doom as if he had experience some sort of premonition. He didn’t have time to even scream as the hellish energy swarmed across his cockpit, burning through the plexisteel cockpit shield, flash cooked the pilot, slagged the command couch, and the unspent energies burst out through the back of the Falcon Hawks head. “Target Eliminated.” Now that the immediate primary threat had been dispatched MyKayla turned her attention to the pesky little Locust. It had moved into ‘knife fighting’ range. MyKayla torso twisted the 90 ton Daboku to the right and startled the Locust pilot with an awkward punch with its left arm Large Laser barrel. The pilot, clearly, had not been expecting the Daboku to devote this kind of attention to his light ‘Mech. He ducked beneath the clumsily thrown punch and threw the Locust into reverse. At the exact point where forward motion turns into reverse motion when a ‘Mech is motionless for just a few seconds, MyKayla impaled the Locust through its blocky cockpit on her right arm laser barrel amidst the sound of screeching metal like two trains colliding. The Locust’s cockpit armor was totally decimated. The barrel had impacted the cockpit on the front right and extended out the left rear. MyKayla started to lift the 20 ton ‘Mech up off the ground, skewered as it was on the Daboku’s right arm in the hopes of keeping it stationary while she brought her left arm to bear. But quick thinking on the Locust pilot part, he brought his right foot up and kicked off against the Daboku’s left leg, ear splitting sound of metal scraping against metal, and the Locust tumbled free, the pilot shaken and injured from the brutal attack. WORD COUNT 2402 Edited by Oni, 04 August 2016 - 03:51 PM. Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image ..............................................Posted Image Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #27 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #27] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 04 August 2016 - 03:48 PM DC-RD-06-02 #27 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside of Platinum City 13th March 3093 19:15:00 Local “Shinjirarenai shooting Bai!” “Arigatou gozaimasu, Tai-sa.” “Dragon’s Claw. In line formation. Continue your tactical retreat. Lay down covering fire for the Sho-ka’s Daboku. MyKayla, we will take care of the Locust later, full retreat on my mark . . .” The Tai-sa knew how difficult it must be for MyKayla to follow her order to retreat, like a coward running from the enemy, but as difficult as it was for MyKayla to follow the order it was just as hard for Onishi to issue the order. However, in Dragon Claw’s present predicament, it was an unfortunate necessary evil. “Three . . . two . . . one. Ikinasai! Ikinasai! Ikinasai! (Go! Go! Go!).” Onishi considered contacting Lieutenant Ljuba Buturovic of the lead Fulcrum from the Planetary Defense Force Vehicle Company and egging the hover reinforcements to greater speeds but after looking up and out through her forward view port, she saw eight billowing smoke plumes reduced to six as one each, a Saracen and a Fulcrum, lost control and spun out. They were already travelling at break neck speeds, maxing out at well over one hundred sixty kilometers per hour. So in the end, she decided against it. The enemy Locust continued to dog Onishi’s Ronins, flitting from one copse of trees to the next, remaining interspersed within Dragon Claws formation, using its tremendous speed to pop in and out of their rear arcs. The pilot seemed to have no regard for his own safety, moving among the assault and heavy class ‘Mechs of Dragon’s Claw without regard that the Locust had no armor left protecting its cockpit thus nothing protecting him. Deft piloting got the Locust in behind the Ronins Shiro and it released another alpha strike. And again, due to both ‘Mechs relative speeds, with the Shiro hauling ass in reverse and the Locust reaching speeds in excess of one hundred kilometers per hour, it only connected with its small laser. To which the Shiro easily shrugged off its Hardened armor. Hardened Armor was a thicker armor type that used multiple overlapping plates to provide additional protection against enemy fire. Though capable of diverting more damage than standard armor, the increased number of armor plates and their lack of flexibility makes any unit employing it more difficult to pilot, and can affect the speed as well. But from all weapons attacks it provided twice as much protection than standard armor. And try as she might, it was nigh impossible to instruct a ‘Mech warrior to go against years of indoctrinated training from age 16 or however old they were when they piloted their first ‘Mech. It was drilled into them, time and time again, to always protect their rear armor at all cost. It was universally their weakest armor. The typical ratio was if the ‘Mech mounted twelve tons of armor protecting all its other areas, only half a ton would be devoted to protecting its rear. That was the reason, when the Locust got into Shujin Tebi Bessho rear arc, the Shiro pilot, he executed a right torso twist and blasted the Locust with all four of his long range missile launchers. The Locust was hardly anywhere near ‘long’ range but the launchers employed Clan tech and Clan tech LRMs weren’t hampered by a minimum range requirement like their Inner Sphere counterparts were. Tebi missed entirely with one salvo but connected with forty five percent saturation with the remaining three. Most of the high explosive warheads connected with the left side of the Locust blasting off a ton of armor reducing the armor on that side down to three percent remaining. A few it caught in its stubby, non-existent left arm and late comers drifted downwards impacting its speedy right leg. But Tebi’s torso twist left him opened to be sniped at by the enemy Wolfhound. And the Wolfhound took advantage of the opportunity. He popped the Shiro in the back of its head with a light gauss rifle slug. If it hadn’t been for his hardened armor, Tebi would have been a smear on the inside of his canopy’s cockpit but instead he received a stunning head butt, through his neural helmet no less, against the cockpit’s interior plexisteel glass. Battlefield awareness made the Ha Otoko pilot, Gunsho Arai Chickamoto, alert to his lance mates plight. He resorted to the ‘point and shoot’ method of aiming, not waiting for his Able Seven Sensor Suite to lock on, in order to prevent the Wolfhound from getting off a second shot at his rattled lance mate. “ ‘Brick’! Fall back! I’ll cover you!” suggested Arai as he fired his entire arsenal at the Wolfhound. Without a weapon’s lock, all of his weapons failed to connect except the scatter shot gauss rifle. The ER Medium lasers fizzled out among the dense foliage and the LRMs launched skyward in an attempted to hit the horizon. However, the Hyper-Assault Gauss Rifle’s multitude of smaller-caliber Gauss slugs caught the Wolfhound down low, burnish precious armor from both its legs and its lower abdomen. The small-caliber Gauss slugs did not penetrate but they did get the Wolfhound pilot’s attention and gave him cause to pause and seek cover. “We can cover him too if you Ronins can provide the coordinates.” It was the PDF Vehicle Company’s Lieutenant Ljuba Buturovic. “We are in weapons range but have no Line of sight due to that mini-mountain in the way.” His connection was static’y but understandable. “I thought you’d never ask,” answered the Co-Pilot of the lead Suzaku VTOL, Mayank Chadha. “We’ve been slaved into the Ronins command Naginata ever since arriving on station. The pilot has visual. Coordinates incoming. Fire when ready.” No sooner had the words rolled off of Mayank’s tongue then there were twenty extended long range warheads airborne, launched from the Fulcrums designated as Fulcrum Alpha and Bravo. They dare not launch more due to their limited supply until they had successfully ranged and targeted the enemy. The missiles undulated the ground all around the Wolfhound in a wall of dirt, trees, and undergrowth but failed to score a direct hit. Bai’s Rokurokubi and the enemy Hermes exchanged shots back and forth unsuccessfully. The Rokurokubi hit its top speed of 107 kph as it sprinted from cover to cover. Bai managed to keep the ‘Mech ahead of a stream of 90mm auto cannon shells as they percolated the ground behind him in a similar fashion to one of those cheesy Action holovids. As the 90mm mayhem traced behind him, it’s deadly caress burst a tree into splinters and still attempted to overtake him and washed over a boulder, disintegrating it into dust. Bai made it to a jungle giant, large enough for him to completely hide his 35 ton mount behind, just as the double rate auto cannon spent its clip and needed to reload. Bai peeped around the trunk of the tree and quickly pulled his Rokurokubi’s head back and looked out from a different height. To look out again in the exact same spot was a good way to catch a slug in the noggin. He saw the Hermes moving from west to east through the forest and took a shot with his ER PPC. He missed but the Hermes quickly pulled up short giving Bai time enough to scan the terrain to determine where he was going to fall back to next. Onishi Razan’s ride was starting to get warm and she had not fired a shot yet. Her lance was beginning to lose cohesion as they were being stretched out due to their varying speed profiles. The Banzai, with its supercharger, was more than two hundred fifty meters out ahead of the Naginata, and the Hatamoto-Chi’s were another two hundred meters, plus, behind her. Normal Battlemech doctrine demanded that a lance conform to the speed of the slowest member, but this engagement was anything but normal and the sooner she could bring any one of her assault ‘Mechs to bear in this conflict would exponentially increase the survivability of her Dragon’s Claw lance. At her present bearing and heading, it would be another 90 seconds before she was within weapons range. She got back to the job at hand, Commanding her forces. “Lieutenant Buturovic, be advised, that you will encounter a lance of four sixty ton ‘Mechs in roughly twenty five maybe thirty seconds from due west. I need you to use your vehicle’s speed to delay and harass them for as long as possible. Over?” “Aye, aye Cap’n. I copy. Fulcrums delaying and harassing heavy lance from the west. Out.” “Saracen Lance, Ronins Actual. Take that crag directly in your path right up to the precipice. Go hull down and reach out with your extended long range warheads and put up a wall between the enemy pursuing any and all friendly forces. Over?” “Ah, a ‘Wall’ Ma’am? Our launchers will not accept any specialty rounds, ie smoke, inferno, nor thunder. Over?” “Then bring the rain! Razan out.” “We’re Hit! We’re Hit! Taking fire from enemy Locust!” It was Sho-ka Gerard Bahnken, the VTOL flight leader. “Pull off! I’ve got you cover!” informed his wingman. The second VTOL fired twin ER medium lasers at the Locust. It missed with both shots but succeeded in keeping the Locust off balance so that it could not line up another shot. To that, three more ER medium laser were added by the battlefield alert Ha Otoko pilot, Arai Chickamoto, which also failed to connect with anything other than jungle flotsam. “Stealthy Dragon Leader, Sit Rep!” Demanded the Tai-sa. “Just a moment ‘Rough Ryder’. I’m a little busy here trying to keep this bird in the air.” “Tai-sa, our chopper has lost more than fifty percent of our rotor’s armor. All other damage is superficial,” came an answer from Mayank Chadha, the Sukazu Co-Pilot.” “Dragon’s Claw, that Locust just became a liability that must be dispatched.” “I’m already on it Tai-sa,” responded Arai. While his three ER medium laser shots did miss the Locust they did however hit their intended targets. ‘Tokoyo’ had been targeting nearby cover that the Locust could possibly make it to. “Come to Pappa lil Locust . . .” he murmured as he launched a brace of ten LRMs. The impact to the light ‘Mech’s stubby right arm, stop all its forward momentum and spun it around facing forward. “I have you right where I want you.” Arai squeezed the firing stud of his Hyper-Assault Gauss Rifle. He connected with more than ninety percent of the small munitions with catastrophic effect. The munitions ate through its armor like they were in fact locust themselves. Gauss rounds demolished its right torso armor and chewed through its internal structure leaving it with less the 7% remaining, ate through its right shoulder actuator, severed its left arm and sent it cartwheeling off into the forest, and destroyed its engine shielding. The ‘Mech was thrown backwards and to the ground legs and arm akimbo. “Target Dispatched, Tai-sa.” “Roger that, Gunsho! Dragon’s Claw! In ten more seconds you will have four more new comers to the party from the west. Ignore them. Keep retreating towards us. Thirty seconds after them, you will be beset by a third lance, also from the west. But Buddha willing, Dragon’s Fire will be there by then and we will give them hell all together.” She strategically neglected to mention the two lances from the East. No sense in worrying the rank and file with outcomes they could not change. They were strictly on a need to know basis. And quite frankly, until the other two lance made contact, they didn’t need to know. The Wolfhound caught the Suzaku VTOL wingman hovering over the battlefield and pumped a light gauss slug into its frontal armor just below the cockpit. It spider webbed the canopy and caused the aircraft to almost rattle itself to pieces. “PHUCK!” “It’s time to make like a tree and ‘Leave’” Onishi could not differentiate between pilot and gunner so she vowed to address it later. Besides she needed to stay focused on her command and her objective. And that was to get everyone out alive. As long as no one was hamstrung nor rendered immobile, she could reasonably achieve her goal. She could sure use that aerospace fighter support. “Kang?” There was a brief lapse in the Daimyo Logistics Officer’s response time. “Hai Tai-sa?” It sounded like she had removed her headset and was reseating it. “How much longer before the Koroshiyas are back on station? Over.” The heavy fighters had run down to their Bingo fuel and had to fly back to refuel. “Seven minutes Ma’am. Four more minutes to top off their tanks and three minutes flight time. Over.” “They’ve got three and a half! Razan Out.” The enemy Hermes and the Rokurokubi were still trading shots without scoring hits on one another. The Rokurokubi took a knee from behind a huge hillock and squeezed of shots from its ER PPC and its ER medium laser. The Hermes fired his medium pulse laser in return but saw the Ha Otoko before he got a green light that his Free Skondia Mutineers 90mm auto cannon had fully reloaded and when it did, the Hermes switched targets and slashed the Ha Otoko from right shoulder down through its ‘belly’ with a full double stream of HE shells. Despite all its rattling and the chattering of Arai’s teeth, the Forging ZK11 Standard Armor had held. For the Hermes trouble he caught a large laser to it’s right torso from MyKayla torso twisted Daboku. She dare not slow her ‘full retreat’ ordered upon her by the Tai-sa. It was farther pounded by a light scattershot auto cannon and four LRMs from Tebi’s Shiro. Twenty two missiles found purchase of the forty launched. They bracketed the Hermes striking it all along its left and right side and left and right arms. Nothing touched its center torso however five missiles did lock onto the Hermes’ head. The resulting blast cause the ‘Mech to wobble around like a marionette with its strings cut as the Hermes pilot almost blacked out. Fortunate for him for the mishap, because his erratic movements are what caused Stealthy Dragon VTOL flight leader’s gunner to miss with two flights of MRMs and an ER medium laser. The Suzaku Gunner did, however, skewer the Hermes dead center with at least one ER medium laser. Two Saracen Hover Tanks added two braces of ten ELRMs each to the fray. Saracen Bravo ranged him, firing for effect, and Saracen Alpha adjusted and corrected upon his flight trajectory to drop sixty percent of its missiles onto the Hermes broad chest armor, which was now down to twenty nine percent, causing the pilot to pinwheel the ‘Mech’s arms to maintain its balance. Just then two streams of florescent green light streaked across the battlefield, slicing nothing but air between Tebi’s ‘Mech’s right arm and right torso and the second beam flew between the ‘Mechs churning legs. An enemy Ostol signaled the light-heavy lances appearance to the fight with a snub-nosed PPC blast to the Shiro’s chest armor. At range the snub-nosed PPC was at its lowest potential for damaged and against hardened armor, well, the Shiro simply shrugged it off. The four Fulcrum Heavy Hover Tanks made the Ostol pilot pay for his transgressions. Three of the four tanks were too close to engage their Extended LRMs. The ELRMs were notorious for not even arming at anything under three hundred meters. So they engaged the Ostol with large lasers instead. Fulcrums Charlie and Delta fired in front of the Ostol causing it to pull up short, delaying its arrival to the playing field. Fulcrum Alpha’s large laser caused runnels of molten armor to run down its right side. Fulcrum Bravo, target the same spot with its large laser, making the right torso armor glow white hot as droplets of armor dripped to the ground, instantly cooling into huge metal boulders. Damage readout showed the right torso armor was reduced to twenty percent. Fulcrum Bravo also engaged its ELRMs. The full rack of ten missiles impacted the Ostol, five in its left leg and five in its chest. The loss of over a ton of armor combined with the kinetic explosions from the ELRM warheads sent the ‘Mech stumbling backwards, like an elderly man fighting gravity. Fire Dragon Lance had arrived. Now the game was afoot. WORD COUNT 2794 Edited by Oni, 05 August 2016 - 06:52 PM. Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image ..............................................Posted Image Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #28 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #28] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 05 August 2016 - 06:48 PM DC-RD-06-02 #28 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside of Platinum City 13th March 3093 19:20:00 Local “Saracen Lance. I have visual on target designated as WLF-3M.” “I can do you one better,” said his gunner as he fired two medium laser at the target, the Wolfhound. “I have its longitude and latitude coordinates. They should be showing on your consoles right about . . . Now.” His shots missed due to the pilot having to jink the ‘copter to avoid enemy fire. Those were the voices of the Suzaku Wingman, Kashire Darwin Balubayan and his gunner Heishi Chirag Shah. Even as ‘Now’ rolled off the Heishi’s tongue two flights of ten missiles each were soaring over head. Both flights were on target blasting armor plating from the Wolfhounds left and right arm and from its center torso. Onishi’s combat computer whirred and chirped through multiple threat resolutions as she came into firing range. She scanned through them briefly before giving her orders. She noted that the Wolfhound and the Hermes were closing with Dragon’s Claw and were already within spitting distance. She needed the light heavy lance, closing from the west, delayed a little longer. Her assault class ‘Mechs could deal with the light medium lance once it arrived. The heavy lance was drawing in closer from due east but they still needed to penetrate the wall off trees separating them from her forces. The medium lance she could trace a line of sight to but the only lance that could reach out and touch them would be one of the two allied ELRM hover tank lances. She needed more time but she’d have to play the hand that Buddha had dealt her. Out of her front view port she watched as the Hermes divided its fire between her constantly moving, constantly retreating Shiro and Daboku, and missing both targets. Onishi witnessed an enemy Hatchetman and an enemy Bloodhound draw beads on the Ronins speedy Rokurokubi. Try as they might, they could not score a single hit on the 35 ton ‘Mech, and it was moving in reverse. The Rokurokubi was under no such disadvantage. Ignoring the light medium lance as ordered, Bai fired his ER PPC and caught the Wolfhound in the right leg. The cackling energy beam wrapped around the leg, leaving only a few scraps of armor in its wake, exposing the musculature beneath to the elements. Unspent energy even snapped a few myomer bundles but did not hit anything critical. Tai-sa Onishi Razan made her decisions. “Stealthy Dragon, I’m going to need your help with the Hermes.Akita Fujinaka . . .” she said addressing her Banzai pilot, “. . . assist in delaying the light heavy lance incoming from the west. Saracen Lance, start softening up the medium lance off to the east. Fulcrum lance, close with the light heavy lance incoming from the west. All other units, fire at will.” “Uh, begging your pardon commander, but we are ranged support. We don’t close with heavies,” responded Lieutenant Ljuba Buturovic. “That’s not a request its an Order Lieutenant.” “I’m sorry Ma’am, but like I’ve said . . . “ “Major Maaka, I don’t need this shit right now!” Major Maaka was listening on the line as the entire battle progressed. He weighed in, “Lieutenant, I believe the Operational Major gave you an order. It would be in the best interest for your career if you complied. Do it. It’s a sound plan, risky, but none-the-less its stems from a sound strategy.” “Sir, Yes Sir. Ma’am, I apologi . . . “ Onishi cut off his transmission. “I hope you’re right Razan,” said Maaka forlornly. “If I’m not, it’ll be my funeral. If you want to protest, don’t bring flowers.” Onishi had her pick of whomever she wanted to fire on. It was a target rich environment that would quickly devolve into chaos if the rest of her command lance could not get within firing range soon. She drop her targeting reticule over the Hermes, she got tone, she got lock, she fired her ER PPC. She hit the depilated ‘Mech in its left arm and the blue energy eviscerated armor, internal structure, actuators, everything and left a stump hanging as the force spun the ‘Mech around thirty degrees to the left. Moving her reticule to its nearby companion, the Wolfhound, the Tai-sa popped open her assault class missile bins and launched twin flights of a score of missile per flight down range. She was not pleased with the saturation but it got the job done. She had loaded out with standard missiles and not Artemis capable ones due to the Ronins not having any in stock yet, so they could not take advantage of her Artemis IV Fire Control System. Only nine missiles found their mark from each twenty rack salvo. Nine hit the right torso, and the rest hit the left and right arms knocking the Wolfhound unceremoniously off its feet. The Stealthy Dragon flight leader brought his Suzaku VTOL in low and sideslipped to the left while performing an Alpha strike. The Suzaku scored hits on the Hermes left and right legs with its two Medium Lasers. It missed with an MRM but hit with the other one. One of the ten lethal warheads hit the Hermes remaining 90mm auto cannon ammo stores detonating it, causing the pilot to eject amidst a horrific explosion. The Hermes plumped up like Jiffy Stovetop Popcorn right before the blast ripped it apart from the inside out. Akita Fujinaka moved the Ronins Banzai up the crest of the crag to take up an elevated position over the battlefield so he could fire over the trees. Searching out a target to the west, Akita opened up on the enemy Ostsol. “Dragon’s Claws! My target!” The entire Dragon’s Claw’s Lance added their fire power. Akita fired two clan grade large pulse lasers and two clan grade medium pulse lasers. One of his LPL’s missed but the other one and a MPL stabbed their energy darts into the heavy ‘Mechs left arm, melting off armor in goblets until it was down to ten percent. His other MPL punched through the Ostsol right breast and sizzled through its delicate innards. Akita had one of his multi function displays set to target damage, and he saw the Ostsol Heavy PPC go black on his disply signaling a critical hit that meant it was offline. Sho-ka MyKayla’s Daboku, still in full retreat, was cutting through a clearing between a tight cluster of trees and a large rock formation when she burst out into the open, giving herself a clear, unobstructed shot. She torso twisted to her right and opened up with a large laser and four shotgun styled 40mm auto cannons. She only connected with three streams LBX\2s shells and the guns kept up an unholy chattering as they pumped out shell after shell at the rate of 120 per second. All three connected to the Ostsol left torso, leaving it dented and warped but not breached. ‘Tokoyo’, aboard the Ha Otoko, fired off a hastily aimed alpha strike. Three extended range medium laser all flew harmlessly over the Ostsol head and the LRM 10 rack climbed for the horizon. ‘Tokoyo’ only scored a hit with his HAG 30. The designation of ‘30’ was due to the number of munitions it fired per volley. Eighteen of the small gauss munitions sought the Ostsol from ‘Tokoyo’s blast, five to the right leg the rest to the target’s left and right arms. A few slugs even breached the Ostsol left arm but failed to connect with any critical components located there. The Shiro was moving at a good clip in reverse at roughly 67kph, about to dip down into a valley of trees, when its pilot added another 40mm scatter shot auto cannon to the onslaught and four banks of ten pack long range missiles. The auto cannon went wide, but the Ostsol ate thirty of the forty missile launched at it. Most of the warheads connected with its right and left leg, but eight of them drifted high into its chest armor and another five locked on to its right side. And still the enemy Ostsol kept coming. The Ostol attempted to return fire at the Shiro but there was no way he could hold the 60 ton ‘Mech steady enough to accurately fire, with the volume of enemy fire it had just taken, it was running, his target was moving at well over 60kph, and these damn Fulcrum hover tanks were racing among their feet. Why send long range, ‘Fragile’ hover tanks in to do close range, tracked slugger work. Who does that? The Ostsol fired an extended range large laser and two ER mediums all of which missed their intended target. The Ostsol's lance mates were having similar troubles. The Ostroc tried again for the nimble Rokurokubi with its large laser, it was a miss. The Anvil fired two large lasers at the Banzai, they both missed. The Rifleman of the lance was beset by the four Fulcrum hover tanks. It fired twin ER medium lasers at the evading Charlie Fulcrum, a miss. And its light Gauss rifle at the dodging Delta Fulcrum, another miss. The Fulcrum lance followed the order from Major Maaka. They floored their accelerators causing their rear hover skirts to ground out as the hovers leapt forward. As they dare not let up off the accelerators, for fear of being squashed beneath one of the heavy ‘Mechs ponderous feet, they drove and whipped in between the gargantuan feet at two and three G’s each time they were forced to change directions. They weaved through their 'certain death' obstacle course with a precision born of years of training. And while doing it, they even managed to extract some Large Laser vengeance for the citizens of Skondia. Fulcrums Alpha and Charlie caught the Rifleman in its left leg. Charlie’s fire had even breached the massive leg armor and had done some internal damage. Fulcrums Bravo and Delta had their aim interrupted when the Rifleman pilot had attempted to stomp on Bravo. The Bravo gunner had still scored a hit, but it had been higher up on the left torso and not the left hip. Delta, who was coming up behind Bravo, had less time to react so the driver had to swing the Fulcrum around through a hundred sixty degree turn. Its laser had almost struck the Rifleman’s cockpit, almost. Saracen hover tank Charlie and Delta, targeted a medium 50 ton Sarissa at the edge of the extreme range with two flights of extended long range missiles. The missiles dropped in onto the ‘Mech’s right side, pock marking its arm, leg, and torso causing it to spin around to face the opposite direction. So unexpected had been the missile attack that when the Sarissa spun around, it had still stayed on the throttle causing it to collide with the ‘Mech behind it. Which in turned caused the third ‘Mech in line to crash into the second ‘Mech and the fourth to run smack dab into the third. Onishi slowed her ‘Mech down to cruising speed as she reached up and wiped the sweat dripping off of her brow from getting into her eyes. She was listening in the background for her missile bins to reload. Yeah, yeah, she would get a green light on her weapons board whenever they reloaded but by listening she could shave a full seven seconds off that time, especially on a twenty rack. After all the missile were in their launch slots, ‘technically’ you could launch them, however; the computer would spend extra time going through a verification process to make sure each missile was seated correctly and ready for launch, if failed then the bin would stay offline until manually reset. Sure it was risky but no more so than ‘hotloading’. And seven seconds on a modern battlefield could spell the difference between life or death. The Tai-sa glanced out her forward viewport and could now see, yes, actually see her Dragon’s Claw Lance falling back to a position where now they were under cover by her Naginata and the Banzai. Her threat board told her that the Ronins had neutralized the light lance pursuing Dragon Claw from the north. On the West, the nearest enemy ‘Mech in the enemy light medium lance was still more than three hundred sixty meters distant. Still out of weapons range. To the east, radar pings had the heavy lance in the thick of the forest and it will still be a several seconds before the exited into the clearing. The medium lance to the east was still a half a klick out. If the Ronins’ luck held, they’d be long gone before the lance ever made it into contact range. That left the light heavy lance engaging from the west. Its lead ‘Mech, an Anvil, was within ninety meters and closing. Its Ostsol and Ostroc were running a close second. Its Rifleman was being harassed by the Fulcrums. The Fulcrums had done a marvelous job. It was time to extract them before their luck ran out. Onishi dropped her reticule over the image of the Anvil, she got tone, heard her twin twenty count LRM launchers reload, “All Ronins, on my target!” And as soon as the Anvil stepped out of the forest, its demise was a foregone conclusion as all eight Ronin ‘Mechs unloaded on it. “Lieutenant Buturovic, fall back into formation. Stealthy Dragon Flight, cover’em!” The display of laser, tracers, PPC fire, and missile contrails against an evening backdrop, from the Ronins overlapping fields of fire - to one single ‘Mech, was nothing less than spectacular, as the Anvil heavy ‘Mech crashed to the ground. Of all the fire directed at the enemy Anvil, the Ronins connected with five LRM 10 racks, four extended long range missile 10 racks, (yeah, the Saracen hover tanks horned in on the action too) four 40mm auto cannons, four extended range medium lasers, two LRM 20 racks - bringing the total long range warhead count to 73 - an extended range PPC, a large laser, a large pulse laser, a medium pulse laser, and the killing blow came from the Ha Otoko’s Hyper-Assault Gauss Rifle 30 connecting with all thirty of its small gauss munitions giving Gunsho Arai ‘Tokoyo’ Chickamoto credit for the kill. WHUMPA, WHUMPA, WHUMPA signaled the arrival of the Sukazu VTOLs to cover the Fulcrums return back to the formation. Between both VTOLs they burned the known anti-aircraft specialist Rifleman with three ER Medium Laser to draw its attention away from their allies in the Fulcrums. Two of them left deep runnels in its massive chest armor, the third one hit it low in the right thigh. The Fulcrums did not go quietly into the night, they went kicking and screaming Large Laser style. Alpha poured more super heated laser beams into its still hot center torso. Bravo caught the 60 tonner in its left side, making its armor paper thin. Charlie popped the Rifleman on its cockpit, making the head armor even thinner than paper, what, tissue thin. Delta scoured what little armor was left on its right leg to evaporate under the thousand degree energy beam. Onishi, for the first time since the engagement began, allowed herself to believe that there was light at the end of the tunnel. WORD COUNT 2596 Edited by Oni, 05 August 2016 - 07:28 PM. Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image ..............................................Posted Image Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #29 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #29] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 07 August 2016 - 05:28 PM DC-RD-06-02 #29 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside of Platinum City 13th March 3093 19:25:00 Local A look at the tactical situation revealed to Tai-sa Onishi Razan that the Ostsol and Ostroc from the enemy light heavy lance were still viable threats. The Rifleman from their lance was further back roughly about two hundred meters due to the stalling action by the allied Fulcrum Lance. The other Lance attacking from the west, the light medium lance, had a Bloodhound that was flat out sprinting to join this conflict. It had drawn to well within two hundred meters of the slowest ‘Mech from Dragon’s Claw, the assault class Daboku. The Daboku’s wingmate was Arai Chickamoto in the Ronins’ Ha Otoko. The other two ‘Mechs from Dragon’s Claw, the Shiro and the Rokurokubi, had already made it to the rally point and were seeking cover and turning to lay down defensive fire. Onishi noted, with trepidation, that two of the heavies from the east had burst from the forest, the Marauder and the Orion. This did not bode well from her Ronins. The Perseus and Pandarus would be through the thicket within the next thirty seconds. The medium lance incoming from the east as well, would not make in time to ever be a factor, thanks to her retreating her forces to the south west on the 225 radial and not due south. She needed to make something happen. She dropped her targeting reticule over the enemy Ostroc. “Ronins! On my target!” The first time it had worked with such overwhelming success against the Anvil, why not try it again. “Permission requested to re-engage, Tai-sa,” asked Sho-ka MyKayla. “Negative! Full retreat until you reach the Rally Point,” Onishi knew her orders were eating away at the Sho-ka’s strong sense of honor. At that moment, Onishi was so thankful the Gunji-no-Kanrei had redefined what true honor to the Combine meant. It went up above and beyond personal honor and defined it as honor as a whole to the collective House Kurita. Translated, that meant a whole lot less ritual seppuku killings for affronts to personal honor and more warriors lived to honor House Kurita. Sho-ka MyKayla fired on the Ostsol instead catching it in its right arm with a large laser and its left leg with a pull on her 40mm auto cannon. The light shells dented and banged off its ‘shin’ armor up across its ‘knee’ and ‘thigh’. “ ‘Tokoyo’, ‘Rough Ryder’. I need you to slow the Bloodhound from that light medium lance dogging Dragon’s Claw down a bit.” “Hai!” “Stealthy Dragon, assist him.” “Aye, aye, Tai-sa,” responded the Stealthy Dragon flight leader, Gerard Bahnken. Then to his Co-pilot, Mayank, he said, “Hey! I’m a Rapper. ‘Aye-Aye. Tai-sa’. Think we can go on that date now?” “Yeah, right! As soon as you start pulling in some of those ‘Rappers’ C-bills . . .” “Tai-sa Razan, Lieutenant Buturovic here, Permission to belie your last and to re-engage targets of opportunity?” Onishi allowed a small smile to upturn the corners of her mouth. She had stepped on his transmission early when he had attempted to apologize for questioning her command and the use of her Draconis Combine rank was his way of making amends. “Permission Granted!” A battlefield was not the place to hold grudges. “Saracen Lance, Bring the Rain!” “Sir, Yes Sir!” The effect of having ‘most’ of her Ronins concentrate fire on the enemy Ostroc were not as spectacular as when they had all combined their firepower on the Anvil. It had started with her though. Onishi had split her weapons fire between the Ostroc and the Rifleman. She had sought to keep the Rifleman from squashing any of the Fulcrums under its huge foot like they were pesky insects. After all, it was her order that had sent them into harm’s way, it was the least she could do was to cover them. Onishi had succeeded in her goal, her twin assault class missile launchers had busted its right foot actuator. It was the equivalent of a man with a broken ankle. He couldn’t put all his weight on the broken appendage to kick with his good leg, and he wouldn’t put all his weight on his good foot and kick anything with his broken one. And have you ever seen a sixty ton ‘Mech limp? It was a pretty hilarious sight. The attack on the Ostroc did result in Akita’s Banzai at least felling the heavy ‘Mech. Of the weapons arrayed against it, the Ronins’ scored hits with six extended range medium lasers, two large pulse lasers, two LRM tens, an Extended Range PPC, a streak SRM six, a medium pulse laser, and an extended range small laser. In the brief lapse of time from launch to impact Onishi had her target damage readout up on her multi-function displayed, and watched as the following Ostroc systems went black, its right upper arm actuator, heat sink, large laser, jumpjet, all of its armor was destroyed on its right arm, some internal damage to its right arm, and its right leg was completely destroyed - no armor left nor any internal components. It crashed to the terrain in a torrent of dust and underbrush. The enemy's return fire was desultory at best, maybe two of their Battlemechs actually hit what they were firing at. Not due to a lack of volume of firing, however. The evening air was choked with laser beams, short and long range missile contrails, Gauss rifle slugs, and blue man made lightning bolts. The enemy had a collection of excellent pilots, they were just inexperienced gunners. They didn’t seem very apt at hitting moving targets. Onishi’s allied tankers, did not suffer from that same deficiency. They were veterans. The Saracen hovers put four streaks into the enemy Ostsol, one each in both its legs and one in each the chest armor and its left side armor. They also combine with 14 extended long range warheads against its lance mate, the Rifleman, resulting in three armor breaches, to the left leg, left torso, and center torso and four critical hits, to the left leg's upper and foot actuators and two to its engine containment bottle. The Rifleman’s heat spiked off the chart. It wouldn’t last much longer, not bleeding waste heat like it was. The Rifleman Pilot would not have long to consider this as the Fulcrums finished him off. Three off their four large lasers found their target, two into its right torso armor, and the killing blow came from Fulcrum Charlie. Its large laser sliced from shoulder to ‘kidney’, sloughing off the ‘Mechs left side, arm, side, chest and all and the beam passed over the engine destroying its last bit of protection. The shielding dropped into place, safely shutting down its reactor before it went nova, but effectively taking the Rifleman out of the fight, or any other fight, for that matter. The Suzaku VTOLs came up behind the Trebuchet hard and fast looking to disable it. The flight leader’s gunner, Mayank, caught it with half her weapons payload, a medium laser and an MRM ten. She peeled through its thinner back armor with the Suzaku’s medium laser and got a missile in but it failed to damage anything critical. The wingman’s gunner, who was green, melted armor from the Trebuchet’s right leg and left side, not quite on target but not a wasted shot either. The Ha Otoko pilot, slowed the Bloodhound’s pursuit down tremendously. ‘Tokoyo’ launched and alpha strike and only missed with an extended range medium laser. He connected with 24 sub munitions from his HAG 30 to both the Bloodhound’s legs and its center torso. His LRM ten dropped more missiles onto the enemy ‘Mechs left leg and center torso, and he caught the Bloodhound in an arm each, with two of his three extended range medium lasers. No breeches, but he provided the necessary impetus to give the enemy pilot cause to halt his pursuit. Two bolts of blue energy hurled at the Daboku straggler, announced the Marauder’s arrival to the playing field. PHUK! “Ronins Actual. ‘Nemesis’. Two friendly birds, incoming. At two angels, in thirty seconds, load out, infernos, paint me a glide scope and I’ll give those Free Skondia Mutineers bastards a ‘Special Delivery’. Over.” “WHAT? ‘Nemesis’? Am I ever glad to hear your voice. What took you so long?” “Aw Big Mama-san, you already know us flyboys like to be fashionably late.” “Yeah, well any later and you’d be picking over our corpses. Glide scope incoming. Hit grid bravo, tango, whiskey, five three oh at one hundred thirty five degrees and exit on three hundred fifteen. Copy?” “ ‘Nemesis’ copies Big Mama-san. Get your guys outta there. Its gonna get real hot real fast. ‘Nemesis’ Out.” Switching over the Razan’s Ronins widechannel battlenet, Onishi announced, “Lieutenant Buturovic, you’ve exonerated yourself admirably but I need you to perform an important task for me now.” “Anything Tai-sa. Just name it.” Onishi could hear the Lieutenant smiling through his voice. “Be careful that your mouth does not write a check that your ass can’t cash,” she replied lightly. “I need you and your Fulcrums to dance with ‘Mechs again, and go in and load up our immobilized Sabaku Kaze tank crew and our battle armor. You have twenty five seconds until we napalm the whole forests.” “Consider it done Tai-sa. Buturovic Out.” “Hatamoto Chi’s, provide defensive covering fire for our allied Fulcrums.” “Hai!” both pilots replied as one. “Stealthy Dragons, go on overwatch and provide close range fire support.” “Roger that Tai-sa. Stealthy Dragon going in to overwatch.” “Saracen Lance, form on me.” “If its all the same to you Ma’am, we request permission to stay and cover the Fulcrums too. You know, brothers in arms and what not.” “Very well. Permission granted. All other Ronins! Tactical retreat behind the Daboku. Sho-ka MyKayla, keep the pedal to the metal, we’re following you out. Do it just like we did in the simulator. Lightest to heaviest. Akita you’re bringing up the rear. Now Move Like Your Life Depended On It!” The allied Fulcrums managed to get the battle armor squads and the Sabaku Kaze crew out safely before they were incinerated by the inferno delivered by the Ronins’ Koroshiya Aerospace fighters. They even extracted the inert body of Gunsho David Shiri and the KIA corpse of Gunjin Deon Daitokuji. The Koroshiyas made two bombing runs that turned the forest and surrounding area into an inferno Hell. Three ‘Mech’s insanely braved the fire to over take their escaping quarry, the Trebuchet, the Bloodhound, and the Ostroc. They were all succinctly dispatched by the Tai-sa. WORD COUNT 1812 Edited by Oni, 07 August 2016 - 05:41 PM. Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image ..............................................Posted Image Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #30 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #30] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points Posted 08 August 2016 - 10:29 AM DC-RD-06-02 #30 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City The Adept 13th March 3093 23:30:00 Local Henry walked in and ordered a drink motioning for Mildred to join him. As she sat there he speaks to her in hushed tones. "It is confirmed. Razan’s Ronins took on Free Skondia Mutineers today and soundly kicked their ass." he says. "And we know this how?" she says cautiously. "I was there and saw the whole battle, even got some on holo vid. You should have seen it." "So it would seem the young Chu-i was telling the truth after all" he says. Mildred nodes her head "Tell Peter to make contact like planned then," she says "It seems a new dawn is upon us after all." Henry downs his drink and leaves. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Sector Zulu 17th March 3093 19:00:00 Local It had been four days since all their units had been repaired. 'The United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army really was becoming a shadow’ Kintaro thinks. His senses were heightened as he mentally prepared for the patrol coming up once more. "Uh boss," he hears from ‘Scar’, the Gunsho (Sergeant) in charge of his DEST Teams third Squad, Jimmy Pane. "Go ahead ‘Scar’." "You won't believe this," he says incredulously . "Enemy forces?" Tanaka says. "No sir, an old man is standing in front of the Goblin banging on it with a rock." "He is what?” ‘Iceman’ asks. "Banging on it with a rock. Gunsho Yi Kuang Lin thought we were having some problems with her treads or something from the sound but when I looked I saw him. He wants to talk to someone in charge," ‘Scar’ says. "What about?" Tanaka asks. "He won’t say but stresses it is very important. Says our lives may depend on it." "Roger, give me 15 mikes to get there. ‘China’ can you watch my area with Lu until I sort this out." "Sure thing ‘Iceman’," Gunsho (Sergeant) Ionela Bretan says. She was over the DEST teams first squad. Kintaro hated to open a hole in their perimeter but this may be very important so off he went. Fifteen minutes later the Hiryo approaches Gunsho (Sergeant) Yi Kuang Lin’s Goblin Medium Tank where his third DEST squad were riding in its infantry bay and sees a man in a white hat standing there with a basket in his hand. The Hiryo pilot, Gunsho (Sergeant) Kevin Hsu, closes the distance and initiates a scan of the surrounding area to make sure no Free Skondia Mutineers were nearby and that this isn't part of a clever trap. Having Hojuhei (Recruit) Luyen Nguyen activate the Hiryo’s external speakers, "This is Chu-i (Lieutenant) Junior Grade Kintaro Tanaka, how may I be of service?" "Well matey, I asked to talk to someone in charge and not a damned Snake." Kintaro heard, as his anger starts to boil at the obvious racism. "Sir, I will have you know, I am the commanding officer of a DEST platoon under the Razan’s Ronins Combined Arms Battalion, and I am not a Snake, as you put it." "Well damn it all boy, why didn't you say so in the first place?" he chatters "So the mighty Razan’s Ronins have finally gotten here, no wonder the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army took to hiding. Look see boy, I don't rightly like to shout out what I have across the country side, just in case there is a damned Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent or ISF Agent about, so either get on down here or I’ll go elsewhere." "Damn, ‘Iceman’ he is obnoxious." ‘Scar’ says laughing. "Watch over us while we talk Lin," Kintaro says speaking to the tank’s Gunner, Go-cho (Corporal) Tomas Madaras. "Surely you aren't going out there?" ‘Scar’ asks. "Seems I have no choice." Kintaro says switching channels. "Razan’s Ronins Actual, this is ‘Iceman’, I will be out of the Hiryo for a few. If you need me call ‘Scar’ please. Checking out something that may be important to us." Kintaro nods to the Hiryo pilot who brings the WiGE down into idling hover mode several meters up off the ground. Unhooking his DEST sneak suit helmet he activates the release to drop the ladder. After placing the DEST helmet into its holder, Kintaro grabs hold of the ladder and starts down after securing his Katana. As he nears the ground he can smell the ocean from the south. Once on the ground he looks over the bold man. He looks to be at least sixty plus years old with a white beard and white hair. Piercing blue eyes stare back at him as the man walks forward. "Welcome to Platinum City Chu-i Kintaro. My name is Peter Starns but most call me Old Salt," he says as he offers his hand. "You must be the one who Mildred spoke of and who kicked the shit out of the Free Skondia Mutineer the other day." Bowing to the elderly man "The Razan’s Ronins thank you for your welcome." And then Kintaro takes the man’s hand and finds age has not lessened the grip of the man across from him. "Well my boy, there are some who don't welcome you as I do and I ain't talking about Free Skondia Mutineers." "Sir, you said you had some important information for us?" Kintaro asks. "First things first. Have the Razan’s Ronins come to free us from Free Skondia Mutineers?" the old man asks and Kintaro can feel the venom coming from his words. "Hai, that we have," ‘Iceman’ replies smiling. "Well then, this is for you," he says as he hands Kintaro a basket. Looking in side he sees fresh sandwich's and a bottle of some liquid. "Where are my manners? My wife said that if you be here to free us then you are all welcome to our place to eat if you desire." "I thank you but it is not our policy to take gifts sir," Kintaro says. "Posh, its a gift and I can assure you, you could do with some real food after your trip." Old Salt states matter of factly. "Now mind you, that is some mighty potent grog you have there as well, made it myself ‘bout five years ago." "Then thank you. Now your information?" he queries the old man. "Well actually, I am here to barter for something, tit for tat you might say," he answered the Chu-i coyly "And if you can’t guarantee what I want you don't get the information." "Barter? Barter for what?" Kintaro says starting to sense he is being had. "Well you see boy, I know where a bunch of them Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents went," he says proudly. "Life under the Diamond Sharks wasn't great but since the Lyran Alliance abandoned us we didn't have much choice. It could have been much worse but I must admit they didn't deserve what the bastards did to them." "What exactly did they do to them?" Kintaro asks, hoping for confirmation of what he suspected and had been told about Platinum City. "Well, Free Skondia Mutineers couldn't beat the Diamond Sharks in a fair fight so they nuked them and us almost out of existence. They did take a few prisoners and some, even after all this time, are still alive. I hear one saw Star Colonel Deleo six months ago. He was a bastard too, but still didn't deserve being nuked like they were." Kintaro scratches his head wondering what the old man could offer and more importantly what he wanted. "We have heard they used nuclear devices here so what do you want ‘Old Salt’?" "Well, its not for me per say, but for my son and his wife and the others. You see son, I rescued over one hundred fifty people from the clutches of them Free Skondia Mutineers bastards, and what I have, I can guarantee you will like. I want safe passage off Platinum City for them. I have seventy five adults and seventy five children and eventually ISF or Free Skondia Mutineers will find them, and that my friend is unacceptable." "I would agree on that sir and what do you have to offer?" he asks intently. "You see son, I am a tuna fisherman and I can take you to their secret base, where they have their ‘Mechs or where they repair them. You see I found them one day out fishing and the Sea Cleansing almost got sunk but we survived we did. So boy in a nut shell, you get them off planet and I’ll take you there. If not then you lose out." This information is too good to pass up and he has to inform the Tai-sa of the find. She can make the promise, not him. "Old Salt, if I may refer to you as such. I must talk to my superior and I am sure I can persuade her to do as you ask, but it will take time as our battalion is repairing as we speak." "I will be back here tomorrow at 1800. It will be dark by then and bring me your answer. If you are not here I will wait twenty minutes and then be gone, so the ball is in the Ronins court," he says dipping his hat and walks off. The man had never flinched away from looking him square in the face so Kintaro was certain he wasn't lying or that it was a trick. There was conviction in his words and hatred there for Free Skondia Mutineers. Slowly he climbs back into Hiryo and secures the basket. Pulling up the ladder and grabbing his sneak suit helmet form its rack he places it on feeling the cold tingling as the electrodes making contact with his neuro pathways. After securing himself with his five point harness he changes to a secure channel to ‘Rough Ryder’. " ‘Rough Ryder’ this is ‘Iceman’," he calls out. "This is ‘Rough Ryder’, go ahead ‘Iceman’," Onishi replies. "We need to meet, talk face to face, for what I have discovered is too important to take a chance on giving it way in case they break our communications," Kintare relays. "Uhm, yeah. Sure thing ‘Iceman’. We can have a sit down whenever you return to base. We can do . . ." It sounded like she tried to cover up the microphone but he overheard her anyway. " . . . Yeah, yeah, yeah. Set it up right over there Tuan. We will need it to establish a link up to Gunsho (Sergeant) Shin Xong Ho’s Byakko. Thank You.” “ ‘Iceman'? Sorry about that Chu-i. Yeah, we can do a late dinner. You're due back from your patrol at oh twenty hundred hours. Lets say 22:30. Scratch that. Make it twenty three hundred. Oh twenty three hundred hours in the Mess Tent. Lord knows we need some sort of break in our intel dealing with the phukkin Free Skondia Mutineers. ‘Rough Ryder’ Out." WORD COUNT: 1827 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #31 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #31] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points Posted 08 August 2016 - 11:41 AM DC-RD-06-02 #31 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Daimyo 17th March 3093 23:30:00 Local Climbing out of the grounded Hiryo he makes his way across the tarmac and over to the Razan’s Ronins mess hall more than two hundred meters, away looking for Tai-sa Onishi Razan. She can’t be found so he moved on to the next logical location, her mobile command headquarters, the Daimyo. It doesn't take him long to find her, as her jet black, luxuriously long and shiny hair gives her away every time. Tai-sa Razan sat at the data console inside her battalion's Daimyo Mobile HQ Vehicle. The Daimyo Mobile HQ Vehicle was designed for large scale planetary operations, compiling data reported in by various means to coordinate their assigned forces during operations. Though it was ostensibly created to coordinate defensive operations in said areas, it has proven equally adept at going on the offensive. And that's what Tai-sa Razan was doing. Going Offensive. Electronically Offensive. She was pouring over electronic data compiled by the twin Communication, Command, & Coordination computers that took up ten tons of space aboard the vehicle when the cabin door swung open. "Tai-sa, I stumbled, quite by accident over this, but I feel it is important, especially to our unit and its survival," Kintaro says. The Tai-sa swiveled around in her seat, thumbed the safeties off, and leveled both of her non-Ronin Regulation, heavy Sternsnatch slug throwers at the intruder all in one swift motion. "Damn You," she uttered an epitaph. "Don't you know how to knock? You'll get your damn fool head shot off barging in on people in the middle of a combat zone." She slowly returned the slug thrower to their shoulder holster and then returned to her work. Slowly Kintaro tells her of the man he met and the discussion that ensued. "I do not believe his is lying, nor is it a trap for his hatred of Free Skondia Mutineers is quite shocking to say the least. What do you want me to tell him or you may come with me and tell him yourself. His demands aren't much especially if we can hit Free Skondia Mutineers before they can repair anything." As Kintaro tells her of his conversation with the geezer 'Old Salt' she stops correlating data at the terminal and gives him her full undivided attention. "So what are you basing your assumption that he is 'Not Lying' on? Your feelings? Gut instinct? I'd rather get him on a lie detector polygraph test or a truth serum but he probably won't agree to either. Okay, well, we'll just have to play with the hand Buddha gave us. It's the only intel we've gotten on Free Skondia Mutineerss whereabouts since we've landed. No, I don't need to speak to him. He's your contact and I trust you to handle him." “Peter Starns was sent by Milderd Carson, the woman I met in town on my foray you disapproved of. Seems they saw the battle you had with Free Skondia Mutineers and decided that I was telling the truth. It was not in his eyes to lie Razan-san. And if he did, I don’t think we would find out through a lie detector test nor chemical testing. They both can be beaten, if you know how.” "Thank You for your frankness 'Chu-i' " Onishi put an emphasis on his rank to remind him that he was speaking to senior officer. "Why would an old run down tuna fisherman know how to defeat chemicals? Do you suspect him of being a covert operative? However; we do not have time to bother with either. Tell him it's a go but I'll need to clear it through the Lieutenant General first. Peter Starns and company will need to be ready to lift off when the DropShip arrives with our new recruits. I want them all screened for weapons, toxins, infectious diseases, the whole kit and kaboodle. Got it? In return, I want the location, grid coordinates, and longitude and latitude of where he saw the Free Skondia Mutineers activity. Get me that intel right away because we will need to put together a ‘Sneak-n-Peek’ op to verify it's good." "I meet him tomorrow night at 1800," he says. "He will only give us the information once they are gone. And said he would take us there. I believe he has a boat stashed somewhere. Should we inform the KAGE DEST black ops squad?" "No. Don’t bother. They are down two troopers. One incapacitated, one KIA. Then you're gonna have to play hard ball with Peter Starns. We don't have the time to wait until his people are off world. I need that intel like yesterday. If this chick Mildred already says you’re the real deal then the old fart is going to have to give 'us' something before I will authorize his people lifted from the planet. If he won't cooperate then we switch gears, snatch and grab, and I'll let you use some of your torture technique's to extract the information from him. We can do it the easy way or the hard way. Its his choice.” "How soon do you want him to bring them in then? Tomorrow night under the cover of darkness or wait until we get word that the DropShip is inbound?" he says watching Onishi carefully as she seems more stressed than normal. Tatiana stands up and paces the large sixty ton vehicle. She runs both her hands up through her hair before turning to address Kintaro, "I go pitch this to the Lieutenant General soonest, so schedule it for tomorrow night. We got, let's say, one hundred fifty, one seventy five people? They will all need, blood drawn, sterilization, radiation treatment, decontamination and full medical work ups. Yeah we'll need to get started on that right away. I'll need to contact the Skondia Ministry of Health and Humans Services and pull some strings." "Tai-sa if I have offended your honor in any way I am sorry. I am trying to make up for the other day as you are right but I needed to see for myself in the people," Kintaro says "Often we pay attention only to the leaders and not to what the people truly want or desire. I want to make sure our cause is just and in this case there have been terrible actions committed in the name of saving them. I find it hard to believe someone can commit to this course of action and wanton destruction of people such as Free Skondia Mutineers has done here." "Huh? Foriven. Forgotten. This just it Kintaro. These aren't just any 'Free Skondia Mutineers'. They are the Free Skondia Mutineers. Half Man half Monsters. And its hard to tell which half is in control most of the time." WORD COUNT 1206 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #32 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #32] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 08 August 2016 - 02:39 PM DC-RD-06-02 #32 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Downtown 18th March 3093 18:15:00 Local Even close to dusk, the yellow-white light beat down like the hand of an unmerciful God that would see Bangalore’ population dead before the monsoon rains came. Staring up at the cobalt sky totally devoid of even a wispy hint of white, Tai-sa Onishi Razan found it hard to believe the indigenous population, or more commonly referred to as ‘indigs’, were already preparing for the savage rainfalls they said would be arriving any day. Moving into the shade of an eave . . . Onishi felt sure the hammer of light targeted her head with brutal and malicious efficiency . . . she watched an elderly woman across the street for a moment. She stooped to grasp an apparently light, yet unwieldy sheet, which she then heaved into place with a snap across the front window of her store. The Tai-sa had heard it mentioned several times that the wind could drive raindrops so hard they would break glass. The rainy season threatened, which is why the tuna fishing normally occurred at this time. Onishi stepped away from the curb and began walking briskly down the street, still hoping to find Snow. And to bleed off frustration. Her temper flared again as she thought of the indigenous population’s most recent behavior. Dim Civilians. Didn’t matter that she moved among their worlds. She was military bred and trained, and the civilian’s ways might as well be alien intelligences for all she could understand them at times. His Razan’s Ronins were here to protect them. How dared they not share their information on the Free Skondia Mutineer! Onishi felt the lightest of brushes against her right elbow and immediately spun to the left, down and around into a defense crouch, drawing both of her heavy Sternsnatch slug throwers. She’d been planetside on worlds that made her feel as though she moved in powered-down battle armor, their crushing gravities making even walking arduous. But on Bangalore, with its .77 standard Terran gravity, she could move almost as lithely as though still on the grav deck of the Star Lord Class JumpShip, the Red Stroke. The old lady she’d watched for a moment screeched and took several quick, mincing steps backward. Onishi knew Sho-i Georgi Draganov, and several other members of the ‘Twenty Something’ crowd within Razan’s Ronins, who would be revolted by the skein of wrinkles that mapped her life in relief across her bronzed skin. Onishi didn’t bat an eye, too accustomed to seeing this and worse in ports of call. Still, Onishi was startled by this old woman’s seemingly innocent touch, and the familiar warmth of adrenaline that raced along her blood, setting off the dull thump that would soon soar to a roaring beat, the soft, tickling sensation on Onishi’s skin that would eventually set her in motion to defend herself or attack. “You got no right to frighten me so,” the old woman scolded, speaking to Onishi before Onishi could begin to apologize to her properly. The old womann’s face wore the look of a grandmother about to berate an errant offspring. The beat in Onishi ears grew by increments. “She tells me to tell you, that’s all. She gives me good C-bills, so I don’t mind. But I got work to do. With Pappy gone, I’m all the store’s got. So I didn’t see ya gawking and suddenly you’re walking like hell’s on your tail.” The adrenaline rush spiked as the brazen woman stepped a little closer and the musk of fresh soil and age, mixed with good clean sweat, sailed up Onishi nostrils as she breathed deep to keep it under control. The Old woman began to shake a finger at her. “Then I come near to knocking myself off . . . ticker not so strong anymore . . . and then you leap about like some weasel and look like you gonna shoot ol’ Timma.” Timma gummed her mouth several times, her lips curled at her dentures. “Don’t matter what that ugly women say to me, taking a message to you offworlders not worth the time to spit.” Frigid waters cascaded across her instincts, sublimating it in a flash that almost stunned Onishi. Without conscious thought, she holstered the ominous looking firearms, stepped toward the old woman and assumed her most disarming look, casually slouching her body to appear less threatening. “My good Timma, I must apologize for my actions. Where I‘m from, we simply don’t have the great spaces you enjoy in which to live. To work. As such, we’re accustomed to not touching one another.” Onishi broadened her smile, added a twinkle to her eye. “It’s a way to create artificial space where none really exists. You simply startled me.” Timma cocked her head at Onishi and gummed her upper lip several times; this close, Onishi could see the fine dirt that filled most of her wrinkles. Onishi suddenly felt she was a soil etching in need of a good dousing to reveal the true sculpture beneath. “You got no right, still, to be surprising me like that. Bang, could’ve been dead. Then how sorry you be?” Onishi added a hint of sorrow to her features. A warrior on the field needed no such subterfuge, but this was a battlefield, if of a different sort, and like an extended range particle projection cannon from her Naginata, she would use whatever resources she found at hand. “Then I would hold your spirit on my conscience for all the days of my life. A specter to haunt my heart.” A touch of a smile. Timma wrinkled her forehead even more . . . if that were possible . . . then burst into loud laughter. “That’s exactly what I be doing to you. You be careful, offworlder, or you have a flock of old women haunting your heart.” Onishi bowed low in Draconis Combine fashion to accept the rebuke. her eyes flashed once as they were hidden, returned to their Skondiade by the time she finished the flourish. “Timma, you spoke of a message a woman gave you to pass on to a Razan’s Ronins Officer?” “Don’t be knowing nothing about none of that, but this wasn’t for just any offworlder.” Timma stabbed a finger at Onishi and almost touched her breast. “She describe you down to the tip of those fancy ‘Mechwarrior boot thingies you got. No doubt you the woman.” “And this message? What is it?” “Just be glad Timma the forgiving type, or I be walking away. Can still feel the ticker a racing.” Please do not walk away. Had to keep this clean, especially after the intel drought. The coolness began to thaw. “She tell me to say to this offworlder . . . you, o’ course . . . to meet this woman, ugly, at Dipson’s Five and Dime Diner.” Onishi simply strode away, knowing exactly where to find the eating establishment . . . calling it such brought a sardonic smile. The Tai-sa didn’t look back once to see the gaping mouth of Timma, flabbergasted out of speech by the way Onishi simply dropped her presence and sped away like demons from Hell snapped at her heels. WORD COUNT 1253 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #33 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #33] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV Posted 08 August 2016 - 03:14 PM DC-RD-06-02 #33 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Hidden Base Skondia Garrison 18th March 3093 12:15:00 Local “How long till we are ready to go active?” Major Fujita Morinaka asked one of the BattleMech technicians on deck. “Barring anything unforeseen sir, we should be ready by day after tomorrow about noon local time.” Major Morinaka nodded, thanked the technician, and took his leave of the repair bay. Well it wasn’t really a ‘real’ repair bay, at best it was a cave hidden several miles away from the Spaceport. The Skondia Garrison had fled here when the Diamond Sharks had invaded. Moments later he was bound for his quarters with a coded transmission from the Tai-sa clenched in his fist. Settling behind his desk, Fujita took the next several moments to decode the broadcast and ponder what the message said. Apparently the Free Skondia Mutineer had been relatively quiet but Onishi’s DEST Teams had some leads on where they might be holed up. Maybe they had their prisoners there. More importantly, maybe they had their nukes there. Those would have to be neutralized no matter what the cost. The Ronins, not to mention the people of Skondia, could scarcely afford to have to deal with that sort of dirty warfare again, so close to the previous account. He rang for an aide who reported almost immediately. Fujita had done a good job of keeping everyone sharp while they smuggled repair parts in to effect their Battlemechs return to full fight status . “Yes sir?” the man said. “Inform the troops that we will be going live at about noon of the 20th local time. They are to be separated into the units that they are being assigned to and ready to move out immediately upon our going active. For the most part the Ronins are still in close proximity so we can get everyone to their new assignments post haste. Also, let the ones assigned to my command lance know that we will be moving out very shortly upon disembarking from the cave. Make sure that they are aware and prepared.” “Very good sir. Will there be anything else?” “Yes. Report back here after you’ve spread the word. I’ll have a coded message to be delivered to ComStar for broadcast planet side.” The man saluted sharply, turned and left the office. Fujita could only imagine his relief, as well as that of the other troops, to finally be out of this cave. Even the thought of going into combat probably seemed better then being cooped up in here any longer. He allowed himself a small smile as he remembered being so young once himself. This would be the first combat for most of them and they really had no idea what they were in for. He had done his best to prepare them but in the end, it would be their own courage, wits and skill that would see them through. Putting all of that aside though, he quickly wrote out a message to be relayed back to Tai-sa Onishi Razan and Major Rokuhara Morgan. It included their scheduled arrival time, the status of the recruits as well as some other observations they had made from their locale on the SpacePort. There was a hell of a lot of traffic out here and other ships landing on Skondia. He couldn’t ID them for certain, but Fujita had an uncomfortable notion about who else might be cruising around in this AOE, Area of Operations. Once he had it all together, he translated it into the battle code being used on this mission and destroyed the original. Once the aide delivered it to ComStar they would broadcast the nonsense phrases the message was now in for the Ronins command staff to receive and then decode. Soon he would be back in the field. Not long after that it seemed he would be jumping into combat. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but very little in war ever was. WORD COUNT 724 Major Fujita Morinaka Victor Assault-Class BattleMech Skondia GARRISON TN Edited by Murasaki, 08 August 2016 - 03:16 PM. Like This Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #34 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #34] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 08 August 2016 - 04:58 PM DC-RD-06-02 #34 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Marik Quarter Dipson’s Five and Dime Diner 18th March 3093 19:45:00 Local It took Onishi Razan most of an hour to cross this portion of Platinum City. They called it the Marik Quarter, but she could find no distinguishing Skondiacteristics . . . neither architecture, nor fauna . . . to tell it apart from any other portion of the city. By the time she reached the diner, full dark quenched the light and cast up its own pale imitations; without the streetlights, she would have found the going difficult. Opening the door, she stepped in and for a moment wondered if the odor she sought to escape so many times at the CMHHS had found its way into this building as well, waiting to pounce upon her once more. Dim and dirty. Few occupants. It fit the image she had carefully crafted of Snow over the last few weeks. If a cockroach would revel here, so would Snow. Onishi moved away from the door, weaving in and out of aisles of chairs sitting askew, her thigh high boots conveying the squelch and smack of every puddle of liquid . . . the aroma told her some of them were not just spilled alcohol . . . and morsels of soggy food. Though several people raised their heads, most were too drunk to give her more than a passing glance. The one or two whose eyes actually quickened at the realization a Razan’s Ronin strode among them quickly resumed their previous postures as her blazing Cleansing eyes swept the room and turned any interest to ash. The frustration stirred, roared. Onishi should be glowing, her skin an incandescent covering to the blazing furnace within. Toward the back, she spotted Snow and stopped dead. Snow sat unconcernedly, a stoop to her posture, as she gazed at a wilted and wrinkled menu. Snow’s left hand strayed to her mouth and she bit absentmindedly at a nail and casually spit it out the side of her mouth. Her swarthy skin blended into her short, hacked-off hair, and with a side profile, her bulbous nose appeared to swell out like the snout of an ice hellion. Would she be as whiny and backbiting as that dead Clan? Her stocky body and shabby clothing . . . a mix of several shapes and colors Onishi felt sure Snow stripped off some street itinerate . . . plunged a spike of physical unattractiveness through Onishi’s frustration. Such an abomination would’ve been terminated by the delivering doctor overseeing the birth before the mother carried it to term. On the verge of turning away, Onishi remembered the data cube tucked into her pocket. The image of those smoky eyes. She managed to place it on Onishi’s DropShip. The Tai-sa must give Snow credit for such a feat. Onishi could stomach Snow's presence long enough to find out if her message held merit, or whether the Ronin could give in to her desire to wrap that stump of a neck with her hands. Onishi moved to the booth and slid in. “Took you long enough. Get lost?” Snow's voice came out deep and husky, not completely unattractive. “Haven’t had somebody staring that hard at me since Jack Rilley used to peek in at me when I took a shower.” Snow casually chewed off another nail, spit it out and then glanced up. The merriment they held almost redded out Onishi’s vision and she gripped her thighs to keep from reaching across the table. “ ’Course, I looked a whole lot better back then, so don’t know why you’re staring. But hey, if you’re in to me, you are. Nothing I can do about it. Right?” Snow’s trying to provoke me. The voice came as though stretched and thinned by an endless haze of gore and shimmering heat. Onishi breathed in deeply, hunting for distractions, trying to regain her focus. The Ronin expected a foul miasma to match the reek of this place and instead detected the scent of flowers. A soft, herbal scent totally incongruous with Snow's appearance. Snow’s playing with you. The voice gained strength and Onishi's vision began to clear. It’s a facade. If Snow’s good enough to seed a message on your DropShip, she is good enough to play you like a harp. “Waiter,” Onishi abruptly called in a loud voice. Snow quirked her mouth and leaned back. Onishi's eyes began to pick out details she missed the first time, and the frustration began to return, but this time directed inward. Snow may have been on-world this entire time and simply waited in order to throw you off balance. The first move perhaps went Snow’s way, but no more. Snow slouched against the back of her chair, but did so a little too carefully. As though to keep her right shoulder at just the right angle . . . for what? Was she carrying? Did it matter? Snow did not bring Onishi all this way to kill her. “So, with those steaming eyes of yours, I think I’ll call you sweetness. Practically got engaged.” Snow smiled, and her almost-too-white teeth gleamed in the dim light like the dials of Onishi’s ’Mech’s cockpit console glowed at night. Onishi's normal response to any such advances would have been vehement revulsion, but she could not afford that luxury here. It put her off balance. Off guard. She gripped her thighs hard as she tried to roll with it. “Got something going on under the table, do you?” Snow said, her voice dropping to a sultry timbre. Snow leaned forward and tapped her hand on the table several times, her index finger pointing toward Onishi’s cleavage.“Those breasts are filling your suit real nice and, well, can’t help but wonder if we shouldn’t be moving right to the wedding day.” The smoky gray eyes almost gleamed in the darkness, Snow’s soft voice and words at total contrast with her repellent physicality. Onishi couldn’t seem to pull herself together. The waiter arrived. A scrawny teenage boy with a runny nose, peach fuzz on his lip that he no doubt doted over, and a greasy apron. “What ya ordering?” He didn’t look up. He’d learned to not get involved. Snow leaned back again, still with the stiffness around her shoulders, and waved a hand in Onishi's direction. “You’re the one who thinks we’re on a date, so you can order for me.” “I’m not hungry,” Onishi responded gracelessly and berated herself again. How did Snow manage to keep Onishi off her guard? Onishi was surprised in the street by the old woman and yet responded instantly with her usual zeal and effectiveness in negotiations. This encounter was quickly shaping up to be a disaster. “Oh, straight to bed, then?” Onishi couldn’t help but stare. Was Snow actually coming on to her? The silence stretched and Onishi could see the skinny brat actually glance up and begin to turn away. “Twin beers. Anything.” Onishi looked a question at Snow. “Fine. Sure. If you want to get me drunk, I’m all for it.” Snow laughed out loud and several people from two and three tables away glanced in their direction. Onishi spoke immediately once the waiter departed. “You shouldn’t be so loud. Do you want to draw others’ attention?” “Why not? Only if we skulk and hide in the corner could we possibly be doing something we shouldn’t. Even if it is exceptionally strange for an offworlder . . . much less a House Kurite Tai-sa . . . to come, at night, to such a seedy bar in her uniform, no doubt of the sarcasm there, if she’s loudmouthed and it looks like she’s simply got strange taste on local women, why should they care?” Snow smiled, and for the first time, Onishi caught a glimpse of her real smile. The warmth surprised Onishi, but the wariness remained. Onishi savagely dug her fingers into her thighs one last time, for the final point she gave up, and moved her hands to the tabletop. “That’s better,” Snow said immediately and chewed on another nail. “This may be a little seedy, but it’s a family establishment after all.” “Must you always speak with sarcasm?” “Are you kidding?” Snow laughed. “I’m not sure I could complete a sentence without it.” “Perhaps you should try. Explain why you brought me here.” “Did I bring you here?” The laughing tone of voice fired Onishi's ire once more. The skinny waiter thumped down two beers and Onishi gaped as, before the waiter took five steps, Snow slammed back the beer, draining the bottle quicker than the collapse of a compartment to decompression. “Keep ’em coming!” Snow bellowed, and the waiter partially raised a hand, but continued away. “Hey, I’m a thirsty gal. Work’s been hard of late,” Snow said when she noticed Onishi’s surprise. “You did bring me here.” Onishi took out the data cube and carefully placed it on the table. She almost winced when she saw how much her constant rubbing, the nervous tick of her frustration, had worn it down. “My, my, my,” Snow said, looking at the cube and then turning those searchlight eyes on Onishi once more. “Seems I should’ve brought a bouquet. You were anxious, weren’t you?” Onishi ignored the comment. “Why?” “Ah, left at the altar again. Well, I’ve come to expect it. You’ve got some pretty Ronin you’re bedding, right? No place in your life for little ol’ Snow.” Onishi slapped her hand on the table and ignored the curious looks from around the room at the gunshot sound. “Snow,” Onishi ground out, trying to keep a rein on her temper, “I don’t have time for this. You managed to get this cube on my DroShip, which I’m sure you know is the only reason I’m here.” Snow placed her hand gently on the table, as though to mock Onishi own brutal impact, and laughed quietly. “Ah, now you’re starting to use vulgarity with me. If you’re going to leave me at the altar, the least you could do is not argue with me. That’s for married folks.” Onishi trembled and her eyes flashed red. She closed them. She would not react. Would not! “Okay, okay,” Snow said. Onishi opened her eyes to find Snow’s face slightly altered. Onishi could not put a finger on it, but something had changed. “Yeah, I brought you here. I’ve got some news I know you’ll find interesting.” “How?” “Because you’re with the MRBC and they keep their fingers in every pot they can.” Snow's right hand dipped below the table and reappeared with a new data cube, which she placed on the table and lightly flicked with her index finger. It sailed smoothly across the surface . . . a testament to the permanent grease ingrained in the fake-wood top . . . and Onishi closed her hand over it. Onishi gritted her teeth. “I hope this one provides more information than the last.” “Hey, I couldn’t tell you everything right off the bat, sweetness. And I did get you here.” Onishi could only nod her head. Too many points to Snow this round. This round. “What will I find on this?” For once Snow did lower her voice and casually lift the new beer the waiter had dropped off only moments before. “Information about the location of a working Leviathan II -Class WarShip.” Onishi stared at Snow, incredulous. This was her vital message? Onishi’d be angry if she didn’t find the situation so ludicrous. The Tai-sa laughed out loud. “This is your urgent news? Please!” Onishi slid across the bench to stand. Snow quickly leaned forward and something flashed through her eyes. “Listen, I know why you’ve come to this world. And if they get that thing up and functioning an invasion could either destroy what’s left of Skondia, or for those who know it’s coming, they might just make huge profits off events to come.” Onishi settled back down, not from Snow’s urging, but more from her knowledge of why Onishi’d come to Skondia. Could Snow know it all? How? The Ronin saw pain in Snow’s eyes. Onishi’s gaze caressed Snow’s shoulder and returned to find Snow’s eyes boring into her own. Snow was wounded. And she knew that Onishi knew. Not that the Tai-sa knew what to do with that information, but she filed it away for possible future use. It did, however, show Snow in a new light. More information for Onishi to use. “And how could I possibly find it worthwhile?” “You’ve a good-sized force at your command. ComStar can be generous to those who help them. Very generous.” Was Snow asking for aide? Mutual defense? “The Draconis Combine and Razan’s Ronins already have a contract with Living Dragon through the MRBC. Why not have your precious Governors try to negotiate a Nobility contract? You obviously are ROM. Why all this backroom dealing?” Snow leaned back in the too-casual way that confirmed Onishi find. Snow’s right shoulder was wounded. “Maybe I do work for ComStar, probably not in the way you think, though. But this doesn’t have to be something dragged through the light of day. Just a friendly agreement between betrothed. Right?” Onishi finally began to get the mettle of Snow and smiled in her own, easy fashion. Snow had scored enough easy marks. No more. “Yes, but I have spoils to take from this wedding and it won’t be you, I wager. You did not answer my question.” “You’re right. I didn’t.” Snow’s gray eyes filled Onishi's vision. Though she began to function once more with her usual grace, Onishi found those eyes still pulled her off balance. Such amazing eyes. “You look over the information, then tell me you’re not interested. Like I said, ComStar knows their friends and can be very generous. JumpShip generous.” The meeting had reached its end. Onishi slowly stood, pocketed both data cubes and looked down at Snow. Not once did Onishi ask for Snow's real name. The Ronin knew she’d not likely divulge it. Though Snow still could be called nothing but homely, the complete revulsion of Onishi's first impression was gone. As with the data cube on the Tai-sa’s DropShip, Onishi couldn’t help a begrudging admiration for the way Snow’d manhandled her. Not often did Onishi meet someone her equal at the table. But the Tai-sa would take Snow in the long run. “I’ll think about it. How will I contact you?” “Oh, I’ll contact you.” Snow laughed. “I know us girly girls are supposed to wait for a call, but I just won’t be able to.” Onishi smiled despite herself. “I had a feeling you would say something like that,” the Tai-sa replied. Onishi accepted that Snow had scored the final point, and walked out. Snow's sultry laugh followed Onishi into the night, a companion for many nights to come. WORD COUNT 2520 Edited by Oni, 09 August 2016 - 05:24 AM. Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #35 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #35] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 09 August 2016 - 01:29 PM DC-RD-06-02 #35 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Union-Class DropShip Black Ronin Deck Two Mess Hall 19th March 3093 06:15:00 Local In a combat zone, Tai-sa Onishi Razan, made stipulations that her unit’s flagship’s, the Black Ronin's, mess hall be reserved for officer’s only. She had a mess tent set up outside the Union class DropShip for her non-commissioned officers, Technicians, AsTechs, the general rank and file of her Ronins. Mostly for security reasons, she did not want all that traffic in and out her command ship and partly for her sanity, this was her place to unwind and keep in contact with her senior officers. Yeah, all her officers had military grade communicators, vid phones, email, and texting capabilities but there was no replacement for being face-to-face with someone being able to look them in their eyes. And she didn’t mean that state-of-the-art, 'video conferencing' eye-to-eye either. She was referring to being able to reach out and 'slap a motherfucker' eye-to-eye. She couldn’t help herself. She guessed she was just Old School. Another protocol that Onishi was attempting to adhere to while in a combat zone, was one where her and her XO would meet for breakfast, daily between 6:00am and 7:00am. She had failed miserably at this practice this last week however. Here it was middle of the week, Wednesday, and the last time she had made it to their standing appointment was this past Friday. Onishi chastised herself. She would have to do better. But in her own defense she had been busy. She had commanded a company before but an entire battalion was so much more different. Ultimately she was responsible for EVERYTHING. She needed to delegate some more task to her officers. The Mess was currently only occupied by herself and Sho-i Georgi Draganov, Sho-i Mustafa Asif, and the two Oo-Suzumebachi –Class DropShip Majors from the Ronin's Living Dragon Flight, Major Dulce Casarez and Major Renn Rothwell. Draganov was the twenty year old ‘Major’ of her Gazelle-Class DropShip, the Tempest Fury, he was smart as a whip. Some joked that he must be Manei Domini because anyone that could retain that much knowledge in a score of living, had to have a computer implant in their brains. Asif was the Koroshiya wingman to their Dragon Flight leader. Both Ronins sat at separate metal tables, engrossed in whatever they were working to start off there day. She had greeted both of them upon entering. They Living Dragon Majors ate their breakfast together. They conversed far more than either of them ate, but to each his own. Onishi had seen Chu-i Sroyadin Tang this morning. She had been in a hurry to get out on patrol and had merely stopped in for a large coffee. Onishi had even already spoken to Chu-i Tanaka Kintaro briefly, about tonight’s mission, ‘Operation: Cleansing Plague’. In her honest opinion, he came across as a little over zealous about this mission. He was losing sight of the bigger picture. He couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Yeah, the Ronin’s would rescue these one hundred fifty civilians but what about the other three billion people that Free Skondia Mutineers still abused on world? Onishi sighed and resumed her work. She was trawling through the situational reports from the Ronins’ last two engagements via her noteputer. The one from five days ago when the Ronins had run into an ambush by Free Skondia Mutineers of Dragon’s Claw Lance and the probing attack, the very next morning, in what she could only assume, was meant to test her Battalion preparedness. It had lasted less than a minute, with both sides exchanging shots but Free Skondia Mutineers quickly retreated from the second engagement and had not been seen or heard from since. This shadow war was beginning to grate on the Tai-sa last nerve. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and took a tentative sip of the steaming brew. It was rich and piping hot. Juan Valdez, eat your heart out. Onishi looked up as she heard a commotion at the mess hall’s hatchway. It was the guest of the hour, Chu-i Reece Kimura, sauntering in behind Sho-i Torii Nashiro. It was apparent that Torii had made a morning funny as they both paused at the hatch to share a laugh. After they were done, the Sho-i made a bee line for the serving line, and after looking around the mess hall and spotting Onishi, Chu-i Kimura made his way over to the Tai-sa’s table still fastening the sleeves of his tunic. “Ohayou Tai-sa.” (Good Morning Tai-sa) “Ohayou Reece.” (Morning Reece) “Gomennasai I’m late.” (Sorry I’m late) “Forget about it. How can I complain after I’ve been out of pocket for what now, three, four days?” Out of respect, Reece held his tongue rather than bring light to his commander’s shortcomings. Instead he offered her a polite smile and busied himself with getting seated and setting up his own noteputer. “Care for something to eat? A tamagoyaki (rolled omelet)? Or a bowl of okayu (rice porridge), perhaps?” “Betsuni. Domo Arigato.” (Nothing. Thank You.) “Domo Mochiron? (Are you sure?) I hear the chef makes a mean tamagoyaki (rolled omelet).” “I’m good.” “Coffee?” Onishi held up her cup to signal to the orderly to bring an additional cup for the Chu-i. “No Ma’am. Not for me. I’m Fasting. Gotta go see Dr Nguyen this morning after we are done here. He’s doing blood work.” “Blood work for a Bruised Hip???” Onishi asked incredulously. “Oh no. He said it was routine. Just to make sure that whatever unknown contaminant caused our Venom Pilot, Nelson Noia, to retire prematurely, wasn’t not being spread or that it wasn’t contagious.” “Oh, I see. That’s probably why he’s being contacting me daily, flooding my email and voice mail box with correspondences marked Urgent.” Onishi allowed herself a small chuckle and took a swig of her coffee. “Speaking of your hip, I noticed that your difficulty walking has cleared up . . .” Reece positively beamed at this, like a kid on Christmas morning, “Yeah, I’m all better. Dr Kumar gave me a clean bill of health and Dr Nguyen released me back to full active duty two days ago!” “That’s Fantastic Reece!” said the Tai-sa, genuinely sharing in Reece’s enthusiasm. “Kawatta koto aru? (What else is new?)” “Well, I did try to keep you abreast of this when it occurred, but as you have so eloquently previously stated, ‘you were out of pocket’, . . .” a sparring jab from Reece. She couldn’t be mad at him, he was telling the truth. “ . . . however; during routine maintenance, Tech Go-chu Kam Ogunleye had a mishap while she was relocating the Banzai from the Black Ronin’s repair bay to the field. You see, she and the ‘Mech lost their balance and fell against the Black Ronin’s port side, causing extensive damage to both of our assets. All the details have been filed with our Quartermaster and you have electronic and hard copies of the incident reports in your email inbox and on your desk.” “Was Kam or anyone else injured?” “No Ma’am.” “Damages?” “The Banzai banged its head on the port side of the Black Ronin before punching a whole in the DropShips armor and falling on its right side. The Banzai suffered severe armor damage to itself as well as losing two extended range medium lasers and an extended range small laser. The Black Ronin suffered light armor damage but the kicker is, that when Kam had extended the Banzai’s right arm in an attempt to catch herself, and with the 95 tom impetus behind her, the Banzai’s arm burst threw a thruster and damaged a DropShip turbine.” The Tai-sa let out a long low whistle. “The Banzai was an easy fix once we got it un-entangled from the Black Ronin’s port side armor. But the Black Ronin was a different story. Per our Master Tech, Kashira Faraz Sha, those type of repairs would require a full fledged SpaceStation. Without your approval, I denied the request to lift off with a bad thruster and a busted turbine. Sha ran into some push back from the Planetary Marquees on obtaining the proper resources to effect repairs on the grounded DropShip, but I stepped in and did some political arm twisting. The notes are . . .” The Tai-sa rolled her eyes towards the bulkhead as she and the Chu-i uttered the same exact words “ . . . in your email inbox and on your desk.” “Yes, I know, I know. I get the picture. So are all the repairs complete as well as maintenance?” “Well, yes Onishi-san . . .” Reece answered her but was truly perplexed by her line of questioning. “Then pardon me Reece. I must have missed something. Why are we going into such detail about this incident? It seems like a non-incident to me.” “Well . . .” he started off totally bewildered, “Why she needs to be reprimanded, some sort of disciplinary action. Her carelessness cost us over three million Ryu in repair hardware, manpower, and materials . . . Tai-sa-sama.” “Well, I have been reviewing the email report YOU forwarded me and I have yet to find any claims or evidence of horseplay or negligence, nor when her tox scan for the presence of narcotics, barbiturates, or alcohol thirty minutes after the ‘mishap’ occurred, also came back as all negatives across the board. What would you have me discipline her on? An ‘Accident’?” “But, . . . but . . .” Onishi reached across the table and took Reece’s hands in both of hers and stared deep into his dark brown eyes. “Reece. Chu-i. The moment we start handing out disciplinary actions for clear cases of no fault accidents, we will lose our units cohesion. Everyone one of us, including you, is working sixty plus hours a week. We are all tired. Fatigued. I ‘think’ that we will send the wrong message to our Life’s Blood, our technical staff, if we reprimand Kam. ‘They bust their asses for us, and if they screw up, We bust their asses for them’. We’ll lose their dedication over this one Reece. Kam should be fully Exonerated with no prejudice.” Onishi paused, and hoped that her reasoning had reached through to Reece. He, after all, was her head over Human Resources. She would back his play, in his Area of Expertise, no matter if she strongly disagreed with it or not. The Tai-sa was a staunch believer in showing a ‘united front’ to the troops. “Give it one more day. Sleep on what we’ve discussed and I’ll sign off on whatever you decide by tomorrow.” She offered him the sincerest smile she could muster under the circumstances. “Now. Whats the butcher’s bill after our last two engagements?” Onishi tried to swing their conversation into a different direction. “Uhm, Yes. ‘Mechwarriors. Gunsho Arai Chickamoto is under Doc Krall’s care for the next two days while he convalesces from battlefield neural feedback. His status was upgraded to stable by Doctor Kumar. ShujinTebi Bessho has a deep Laceration to his head and will have his stitches removed in three weeks. He is under observation by Doctor Nguyen to make sure the wound does not became infected and restricted to the medical ward at least for the next three days.” “Battle armor pilots. Gunsho David Shiri, the XO of the KAGE squad is out for the next six weeks due to a broken collar bone. Seems he was caught in the blast radius when a fusion reactor went critical. His armor saved his life. Unfortunately, Gunjin Deon Daitokuji, was not so lucky. He was Killed In Action by the same blast from an Free Skondia Mutineers Griffin. His remains were recovered and have been sent to his next of kin. He did not have life insurance other than the minimum five thousand provided by the MRBC.” The Chu-i paused as if uncertain of his next words. Onishi tried to fill the awkward pause by sipping her coffee but in the end she grew impatient. “Soshite... ?” (And...?) “Huh? Yes, And I made an Executive Decision and awarded the family and addition $100,000 Ryu from our battalion coffers.” “Sugoi Job!” (Great Job!) “Hontou? Daijoubu.” (Really? Okay.) “Yes Really. What else Reece-san?” Onishi referred to the Chu-i in the honorific, bestowing on him the fact that she in fact did trust his judgment as her equal and not a subordinate. It seemed to show in his eyes as he continued with his report. “All other injuries were superficial, at best, and merely required first aid.” “Military Hardware?” “All ‘Mechs are battlefield ready. Your Naginata is down one quarter ton of ferro-fibrous armor covering its left arm. Kashira Sha has 15 tons already ordered and that shipment is already in system, past the turnover point, and will be available within the next two or three days. Our Fury Command Tank is down one Plasma Rifle reload and our Tokugawa is down a single Artemis capable SRM6 reload. Sha has ordered one ton and three tons, respectively of each, incoming on the same shipment as the Ferro-Fibrous Armor. So that equates to roughly three days. The Tessen needs C3 Remote Sensor ammo. Sha has indicated that he scoured the suppliers, and the only world that had them in stock was Brailsford, several light years rimward past Pehst. The shipment won’t even make insystem four at least twenty four more days and then an additional nine days while it travels from the JumpPoint down to the planet.” “What about my Artemis capable Ammo?” “Yes Ma’am. Hold on a sec.” Onishi was picking up to leave. “Ah. Here it is. Ouch! It seems that dressing down you gave to Kashira Sha had an extreme effect on him. It appears he has order a full five tons of Artemis capable ‘Clan’ ammo and that it will be arriving in increments starting today until a full three weeks out. As a matter of fact according to the transports manifest, the shipment is already grounded and will be undergoing unloading operations . . .” He looked up from his noteputer to consult his chronometer. “ . . . within the next thirty minutes or so. However, that’s not the jist of it Onishi. Sha has ordered every kind of LRM ammo every made in 10 load outs and 20 load outs. In fact, if these inventory sheets are correct we have the following ammo types already available in 20 round load outs; Artemis, Follow The Leader, Fragmentation, Heat-Seeking, Listen-Kill, Swarm, Swarm-I, Thunder, Thunder-Active, Thunder-Augmented, Thunder-Vibrabomb with more incoming a these various types and as well, over the next three weeks or so, the Ronins will be receiving shipments for the following: Semi-guided, Smoke, and Thunder-Inferno. The down side is he spent close to six million C-Bills, not Ryu.” “Hai. Ii yo.” (Yes. Its Okay.) Onishi thought to herself, 'Ouch is right! THAT was a wee bit excessive'. But hey, she needed to delegate and she’d be damned that now that her officers were showing initiative, that she would squash it under the heavy hand that was Draconis Combine Tradition. After all, her unit was classified as a Modern Warfare Unit, which meant that ‘strict’ adherence to the code of Bushido was not a plus for her command but was almost frowned upon. The Tai-sa was allowed, in fact, actually Encouraged, to introduce combined arms tactics and more circumspect strategies to her commanders. The Ronin placed her noteputer in its carry on and stood up to leave. Placing a hand on the Chu-i shoulder and squeezing respectfully in a gesture that she hoped was re-assuring she said in her matronly timbre, “You have done a MARVELOUS job Reece-san. Keep up the good work. I have faith in you. You will make the right decision. Arigatou gozaimasu. Ittekimasu. Gokouun o inorimasu.” (Thank you very much. I'm leaving. Good luck.) WORD COUNT 2685 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #36 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #36] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points Posted 09 August 2016 - 10:28 PM DC-RD-06-02 #36 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Staging Area 19th March 3093 11:15:00 Local All the representatives he had asked for where present and as he looked around some where familiar faces and a lot were not. "Take a seat please. so we can get started." he said. "For those of you who do not know me, I am Chu-i (Lieutenant) Junior Grade Kintaro Tanaka, Commander of Shadow Platoon and Commanding Officer of the Ronins Draconis Elite Strike Team section," he says looking out at them. "Now as to why you are here. We have a mission, operation: ‘Cleansing Plague’ that includes approximately one hundred fifty to one hundred seventy five civilian personnel. I meet with their leader tonight at oh 1800 hours and if all goes well, I will receive some vital information on where to find a portion of the Free Skondia Mutineers forces." "In return for this information they have asked for a special condition and our employer and Ronins Command is considering it a go as of now. Stealthy Dragoon, I need your VTOLs configured to transport the amount I just listed, they will mainly be children, plus our troops. I need a squad of infantry to search them for weapons and other devices to insure this isn't a set up and a squad of Battle Armor for escort and incase its a trap or ambush." “Gunsho (Sergeant) Barbara Ogawa, the search operation will fall to your squad, second squad. For the Battle Armor, Ndang, you’re up. Our KAGE armor is down two members. Get your Raiden Tsunami Battle Armor Squad suited and booted.” Both non-comms nodded their understanding. "Medics, the Tai-sa wants everyone checked out top to bottom, no surprises. Complete physicals.” Tanaka addressed the six medics that were selected for this mission, Kashira(Talon Sergeant) Gary Huang, a Medic from the Black Ronin, Go-cho (Corporal) Stanimir Daskalov the Medic slash Gunner from the Sabaku Kaze Scout Hover Tank and Heishi (Private) Manny Singh a Gunner/Medic aboard the Hiryo. And of course his own DEST Medics, Go-cho (Corporal) Plague Keter, Gunjin (Lance Corporal) Soetsu Turner, Gunsho (Sergeant) Naiem Ahmad from his second Trireme Infantry Transport VTOL. “Zandi, you will be exempt unless we have an emergency. We want the Trireme Flight ready and waiting to lift off at a moment’s notice.” Tanaka told her. Kashira (Talon Sergeant) Siroos Zandi was the commanding officer of Stealthy Dragon Flight and she piloted the lead Trireme Infantry Transport. “Mess hall, we will need to feed them as I am not sure if they have eaten recently or not. Once they are back here, and as this is accomplished we will house them in tents in a designated area. They will not be here long, for if the information is good they will be leaving on the DropShips that is bringing in our replacements, equipment, and ammo." "Any questions?" he asks the assembled Ronins. "Do we have a time on their arrival?" asks the cook. "I meet them tonight at 1800. If all goes well, I would imagine somewhere between six p.m. and midnight," answered Kintaro. "Can we expect any attacks?" one of the DEST infantry, Heishi (Private) Donald Miller asks. "Your guess is good as mine. Shadow Platoon will be there in case of an attack. Go in with the attitude we will be attacked and if we aren't then so much the better." ‘Iceman’ says. "Any other questions?" he asks one last time. "OK infantry and vehicles be ready to depart at oh 1700 to a designated holding area called Zebra. If all are there I will call you in and we will search them as they are to be loaded." Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Craven Plateau Western Sector Near Coast 19th March 3093 17:45:00 Local " ‘Iceman’ to Zebra, over" "Zebra here over" "All arrived on schedule and without problems?" "Roger, awaiting further instructions." "Stand by." he says. "Ok DEST platoon you know the drill. Once it starts to get dark switch to IR often to make sure we aren't being lead into a trap," reminded Kintaro. "I can’t believe we are babysitting," Gunsho (Sergeant) Jimmy ‘Scar’ Pane whined. " ‘Scar’, I don't really care what you believe. This is the right thing to do, plus it will get us some info to kill more of Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents," the Chu-i says coldly. "No disrespect sir, but how do you know you can trust him?" "I looked into his eyes ‘Scar’ and they told me all I needed to know. I don't trust people lightly believe me," Kintaro responded. "Once our contact is spotted I will be going to ground and the rest is yours Barb," ‘Iceman’ says. "No problem boss, we got your back," she replies as she changes to an internal channel. " ‘Scar’, I don't know what your problem is lately but I am tired of it, get it straightened out or I will." " ‘Iceman’, ‘China’, I have a single signature on heat coming towards us from our 9 o'clock," she says. "Roger, ‘China’, thanks," he says "Good job. I’ll be dismounting now." "Be careful ‘Iceman’ " Barb says. As he unhooks his DEST suit and removes his sneak suit’s helmet, Kintaro can not but wonder if its a trap or not. After stowing the gear, he takes his katana in hand and hits the Hiryo’s release button to send the ladder the few meters to the ground from the hovering WiGE vehicle. Quickly he scales the ladder waiting for a shot to ring out telling him his instincts were wrong about ‘Old Salt’. Once on the ground he walks over towards Operation Cleansing Plague’s Byakko Assault Hovertank and finds his guest standing there. "Good evening, Chu-I (Lieutenant)," Peter Starns greets the Ronin. "Evening," he replies. "So what has your commander decided?” the older man asks quietly. "She has agreed, but only if your information is good. I need some sort of proof," Kintaro states for the record. "Well our deal was that they get off first," ‘Ols Salt’ says looking determined. "Mildred said for you to trust me, I believe, did she not?" Kintaro asks. "So either trust me, that if this info is good, they get off, or take your info elsewhere. I have not lied to you." Peter has not lasted some 67 years by not learning to trust his gut and his gut says trust this brash young Chu-I (Lieutenant), but there was more at stake here than just him. He scratches his white beard and kicks a stone on the ground before speaking. "So I guess if I say no, you will just grab me and try to get the information out of me," Peter Starns says in surprising clarity, catching Kintaro off guard. Quickly recovering Kintaro says, "Had I wanted to do that, then you would not have left the other day, and yes that is one option. Look at it this way, bring your people in, they get a free check up and free meal, and if its a no go you can lead them back out." "Are you daft boy?" he says chuckling. "Do you really think for one minute your commander would allow you to let me go if I don't produce the information?" "You have my word and if need be my life. Now the longer we stand out here the better chance Free Skondia Mutineers has of discovering us." ‘Iceman’ says looking about. "So what do you say? Yes or No?" He had his orders, if its a no, he is to grab him and then they will extract the information from the old man, though he doubted that they would get it from him before he died. "You are ok boy. You stand your ground and if you know how to use that pig sticker you have over your shoulder, then I think I better side with you," ‘Old Salt’ says smiling. "When will you be ready to bring your people in? If everything pans out we have a DropShip inbound or already landed by now and your people can board it and it will take them out soon," Kintaro says. "As soon as possible, they picked up Mildred this morning, those dam ISF bastards grabbed her, so it will not be safe much longer," Peter says looking sad. "How far are they. I have a team standing by to bring them in now if we can," ‘Iceman’ says. "I have them hidden in an old smuggler’s cove not far from here. About a 30 minute walk it is." Peter says. "I can call in my team and we get them, but know this, they will be searched before getting on any VTOL transport. We have to be sure, you understand." The old man nods his head signifying he understood. "Then we will take you all to the camp, where they will be fed and given physicals by our medical personnel. Can’t have a disease break out now can we." ‘Iceman’ says. “Then they will be bedded down and housed until transport off Skondia. Sound good to you?" "Sure, sounds mighty good. You just don't know what we have been through this past year." "Wait here." ‘Iceman’ commands as he walks over to Gunsho (Sergeant) Shin Xong Ho’s Byakko. Once he is close he says," ‘China’ call Zebra. Tell them to make haste to here now." Minutes pass as they wait not knowing if the message had been intercepted or not but finally they hear the rotors of the VTOLs from Stealthy Dragon Flight. "Peter, you will ride in the lead vehicle and show them where to go, I am getting back in the Hiryo so we can go along just in case. Remember this, if this is a trap you will be the first to die. That I promise you," Kintaro warns as he pats his katana. Peter gets in the Byakko hover tank and after a couple minutes he hears. "Zebra, ‘Iceman’ here. Lead away." The thirty minute walk only lasted 7 in the hover tank and soon they were overlooking the ocean. The moon had not risen yet and was not due to do so for another couple hours.Once the convoy stopped Kintaro ordered the Hiryo to deploy Kashira (Talon Sergeant) Felix Ndang’s Raiden Tsunami Battle Armor to cover it while it is stationary and again he climbs down out of Hiryo. "Take us to them," Kintaro commands. Peter hands Kintaro a weathered case and a data disc. "You have been truthful to us so far so just in case, I want you to have this now in case something goes terribly wrong." Peter then walks over to the side and starts down a cliff face. Indented in it, is a small walk, that unless you knew where it was, it was highly unlikely you could find it, especially in the dark. Ten minutes later they were on a beach and walked towards a rock. Peter stops for a minute and pulls out a small box and presses a button. They all hear a grinding as the rock starts to move to the side and once it is through moving they see an opening with a channel in it filled with sea water. "Those bastards aren't the only ones with secret hiding places." Peter says smiling. Inside they can see a sea going vessel and past it campfires of the people they are to pick up. It takes almost an hour to search and get everyone aboard the Trireme VTOLs. Final count ended up at 19 men, 31 women and 105 children ages 3 to 16. Once the convoy starts to approach the battaMilitia sector, ‘Iceman’ makes contact. "Razan’s Ronins Actual, DEST Actual. I have our package and the information you requested. Request permission to approach." "DEST Actual, Razan’s Ronins Actual. Permission granted. You know where to take them and bring me that information ASAP." He could not check the data disc but once he opened the weathered case, he could see a map inside it. A nautical map and a chain of islands due west were circled and some annotations made all in longitude and latitude. Kintaro smiled as he hoped the Tai-sa (Major) could understand longitude/latitude coordinates, which were dramatically different from what infantry forces used. Once the group made their passage through the lines, he told Barb to get them set up and do whatever was needed as he had to report to the Daimyo mobile HQ unit.. Once he got to the Tai-sa’s (Major) command vehicle, he knocked loudly on the door, as he had no desire to be shot, since she was so jumpy. "Enter," he hears. Keeping with night discipline, he enters and quickly pulls the partition closed to not allow any light to escape once he had entered the interior of the vehicle. "Chu-i (Lieutenant) Senior Grade Tanaka reporting as ordered, Ma'am," as he reports, he hands Onishi the weathered case and the data chip. "Anything else?" he asks. WORD COUNT 2221 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #37 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #37] Cricket Lieutenant Senior Grade Razan's Ronins 716 posts 0 warning points LocationFreeburg, IL USA Posted 13 August 2016 - 05:57 PM DC-RD-06-02 #37 Starport Bangalore region Steen continent Skondia 17th March, 3093 0700 hours, local time Reece and Major Kochel had been dicussing defensive tactics since the Planetary Defense Forces armored company had arrived at the Starport. The two had finally decided upon a first engagement plan for the defense of the Starport. Major Jeffrey Kochel placed his vehicle company along the west perimeter. The Axel Heavy Tank platoon was placed in the center. The Fulcrum Heavy Hovertank platoon was placed along the northwest section of the perimeter. The Saracen Medium Hover Tank platoon was deployed along the southwest section of the perimeter. Reece deployed his company to cover the remainder of the perimeter. The Dragon Scale lance was deployed about 120 meters behind Jeffrey’s Axel Heavy Tanks. Reece deployed the Logistics Lance in various locations on the Starport. The Daimyo was positioned in a hardened revetment along the east perimeter section. The Sabuku Kaze and Goblin Medium Tanks patrols along the north, east, and south perimeter. Finally, Reece place the Hiryo in the center so it could respond to any threat to the Starport. Reece was not concerned about the water surrounding the peninsula because he had demolition experts placing heavy concentration of mines in the waters and mines on the shoreline. Skondia citizens were informed not to go near these areas due to a biohazard washing up along the shore that was actually a fake report. Reece had engineers dig out positions for the tanks to move into and only present their turrets making the tanks harder to hit. Their primary weapons are able to fire upon the enemy force should it attempt to take the Starport. The two armored units were determined to prevent the enemy on Skondia from access to the Starport. With the Starport’s defense established and contingent plans agreed upon, Reece took some time to continue recovering from his sprains. He worked on keeping the muscles limber. As the days passed, he was still gingerly walking but the majority of the pain had faded. He just had to make sure not to cause a reinjury to the sprained body parts. Reece figured the rest of the unit was busy with tracking down the assigned target or searching for that hidden enemy force. He and Razan had figured that denying the enemy force the Starport that the Skondia forces had a better chance at keeping them from getting reinforcements. Starport Perimeter Command Center Bangalore region Steen continent Skondia 17th March, 3093 1300 hours, local time Reece and Major Jeffrey Kochel decided to meet in the afternoon to discuss some special interest concerns. They were meeting in the Perimeter Command Center conference room. Reece arrived first and waited for Jeffrey to arrive. Jeffrey arrived after 5 minutes. The two officers closed the room’s door and Reece activated a white noise generator. “Glad to have you at this meeting, Major.” Reece stated. “Glad to help work out whatever problem you think we may encounter here on Skondia, Chi-i.” Jeffrey responded. “The force that we are trying to locate usually is known to have sympathizers and moles in place on Skondia. Hence, how the force was able to get past the Skondia Defense units.” Reece informed. “So, you are saying that maybe even some Skondia official or even Militia personnel have been planted here long ago and now are remaining under cover while disrupting efforts.” Jeffrey surmised. “Correct. These moles could be in the Skondia Militia or citizens in key areas. We need to keep an eye out for any unusual activities. Here at the Starport, the security force is mainly us. The Skondia Militia are providing the outer ring of the defenses. The Skondia Militia is only being provided with just what they need to perform the task.” Reece briefed. “I just want to keep you abreast of the situation and to let the others in the Militia know of the potential threat possibly close to our forces.” Reece continued. “I appreciate the heads up. I shall inform the Major of the issue over a privately secure communications link and he can brief the rest of the Militia.” Jeffrey responded. “Just giving you advance warning and trying to keep you in the loop on our situation. Also, we had established our defensive setup.” Reece stated. “Yes, what do you suggest about that setup?” Jeffrey asked. “I was thinking that we rotate our lances around in a random method so the enemy would not know where each lance will be at during a given time.” Reece answered. “That is a workable solution with moles in our midst. I agree. Lets move the lances around at random times and locations. I believe it will give them a fit in their planning and make them to take more time before attacking.” Jeffrey responded. “I shall inform you of the times and locations for your lances and provide you the locations of my lances. Lets hope this does cause them to reconsider and take more time.” Reece informed. Reece and Jeffrey ended their meeting. Reece turned of the white noise generator. The two men departed the conference room. Reece returned to his tank and started thinking out the random rotation of units. WC = 1,007 Edited by Oni, 16 August 2016 - 06:05 AM. Like This Name: Kasumi 'Badger' McKenna Rank: Primus Sarcina Recter (Colonel) Position: Black Wolf Rangers Brigade Executive Officer 2nd Ranger Expeditionary Force Commanding Officer Assigned Battlemech: Mad Cat Mk II Assigned Unit: Black Wolves Rangers 2nd Ranger Expeditionary Force – Storm Wolves Black Wolf Rangers Mercenary Brigade Title: Knight Protector of Cimeron Name: Elijah 'Cricket' Callahan Rank: Major Position: Battalion Commanding Officer Assigned Battlemech: Timber Wolf S "Night Shadow" Assigned Unit: Marauder Striker Company CO, Bloody Marauders Battalion, sub-unit Black Stars Mercenary Regiment Name: Reece 'Budda's Fist' Kimura Rank: Chu-i Assigned: Narukami Heavy Tank Assigned Unit: Dragon Scale Lance Razan's Ronins Name: Phoenix 'Dragon' Magnus Rank: MechWarrior Sergeant Position: 2nd in Medium Lance Assigned Battlemech: Clint CLNT-2-3U Assigned Unit: Battlemech Company, Storm's Armored Cavalry Former: CO of Royal Corvax Cluster #38 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #38] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV Posted 15 August 2016 - 12:06 PM DC-RD-06-02 #38 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Free Skondia Mutineers Safe House 20th March 3093 09:15:00 Local Demas Halal stepped passed the two teenage, barely adolescents, Insurgents, pushed aside a flap of rotting canvas and ducked to enter the low doorway. The room beyond was small, no more than three meters on a side, dark and dirty with a litter-strewn, packed-clay floor and granite walls covered in graffiti. The only light was from the doorway, blocked by the canvas and his body, and a small paneless window on the south wall. Despite the size, five heavily armed Phalanx Battle Armored Troopers were packed along the sides leaving only a narrow spot in the middle. In this narrow spot a tall, spare, figure squatted behind a low table, typing on a noteputer. "General," Halal said, dropping to both knees and bowing his head. "It is good to see that you truly survive!" "Did you believe that Mikhail Chigorin would permit the forces of the Draconis Combine to kill his most valiant leader?" the man said, soberly, his piercing eyes meeting those of Titus with a real question behind them. Halal recognized what the question implied. Only true belief could bring about the Final Jihad and the destruction of the Davions and so they went so went the Inner Sphere. Questioning the survival of the General, surely Mikhail Chigorin’s most important sword in the battle against the Davions, implied a lack of faith in Mikhail Chigorin Himself. And the slightest trace of lack of belief, in this place, in this warrior's presence, could lead to immediate martyrdom. Halal bowed his head and nodded in submission. "General, my faith has been tried by the events of the last two years," the Phalanx Battle Armor commander admitted. "We battled the Draconis Combine relentlessly and yet our numbers dwindle. Again and again the Phalanx Battle Armor fearlessly attack them as we are instructed in the words of the Federal Council. To put aside fear of death and think only of the will of Free Skondia Mutineers. Of the Glory of Paradise and the spread of our Rule. And, again and again, we are not only defeated, but destroyed. Their technology, their training . . . their faith in their false Gods, seems to be beyond even Free Skondia Mutineers to defeat. But, your presence fills me with renewed hope. If you can survive when all their forces search for you, anything is possible. Forgive me my trial of faith and look upon my actions. I have sought battle without fail. As Mikhail Chigorin is Merciful, have mercy upon his true warrior." "Very pretty," the tall man said. "And very common. Everywhere I go, the faith of Free Skondia Mutineers is tried. And, everywhere I go, they profess renewed faith. It is with these weak tools that Free Skondia Mutineers's Will must be worked. But, Halal, the Jihad has need of you. You have skills that are needed in a great mission. We still can bring the Inner Sphere to its knees and teach the Lesser infidels of the Federated Suns and the Confederated Magistry that the Free Skondia Mutineer is great and powerful beyond even that of the infidels. And you will be the tool that shall show that will. In one stroke, we will break the will of the Chaos March, which is divided even in the lands of the native population of Skondia, and bring the banners of the Free Skondia Mutineers, once again, to the lost worlds. And all the jihad needs is your skills." "I live in submission to Federal Council," Halal said, nodding. "What is the mission, General?" "We shall strike at the infidel's greatest weakness," the tall man said, his eyes lidding heavily. "The love of its whores." ………….. WORD COUNT 685 General Sathen Sakamoto Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineer Edited by Murasaki, 15 August 2016 - 12:06 PM. Like This Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #39 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #39] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 15 August 2016 - 02:02 PM DC-RD-06-02 #39 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Outside The Adept 20th March 3093 11:00:00 Local Gunsho Kevin ‘Katana’ Hsu stuck his noteputer in his jump bag and tossed the latter over one shoulder, standing up and stretching his back. He had been sitting in The Adept for nearly three hours and he wasn't as young as he used to be. Fifteen years in the teams had left him with degenerative damage in half the major joints in his body and a back that was compacted enough for a fifty-year-old. As he wandered out of the shop, he glanced at his image in the plate glass window and grimaced. Black hair, black eyes, an ‘oriental’ face, neither handsome nor ugly, shoulders a bit wider than the norm, middle beginning to bulge a bit despite regular exercise. Not the most prepossessing figure and certainly not, by any stretch of the imagination, a big man on campus. He'd thought that going under cover as a mature college student would be a cinch. With both his career and his love life peeking, time to go find some time in the sun. After years of eighteen-hour days, how hard could homework be? And then there were the lovely young coeds, long legs flashing by, skirts swirling and flirting, practically begging to be snapped up by a not particularly bad looking Logistics Agent. Well, the homework wasn't actually that bad, or it wouldn't be if it weren't for the classes he had to take. History. How bad could it be? Greeks and Romans and Persians and the Renaissance. Egyptians and feudal lords and maybe memorizing a bunch of dead guys' names. Little did he know. That was ‘old history.’ His current major course was ‘An Introduction to Draconis Combine Pre-Succession War History.’ As far as he'd been able to determine, his definition of what constituted ‘history’ and the definition used by the University of Platinum City History Department didn't come from the same dictionary. Sure, the old time historians made stuff up. Livy read like something written by Tom Caesar and Julius Clancy's Succession Wars: A Davion Story was written with political image in mind with only brief touches on reality, something like a Democratic stump speech. But it had brief touches on reality and it was at least written. Prior to the ‘succession’ period, the Suns had no writing and, apparently, no problems worth discussing. His professor attributed every ill of House Davion to the first succession war of the Draconis Combine, ignoring the ongoing civil wars that dated back hundreds of years, not to mention the slave traders that benefited from them. He'd had to see the first episode of the mini-series on slave trading and had been loudly shushed when he started laughing in the first fifteen minutes. Slave traders didn't get off their DropShips and go chase bush-bunnies around. They bought them from Capellans, not freakin’ ‘Snakes’, Kuritans. And the Kuritans bought them from the Warrior Houses, who were constantly at war with each other. Sometimes it was all Kevin could do to not stand up and punch the stupid bastard, especially when he got started on ‘31st century colonialism,’ by which he meant the War against the Word of Blake. Kevin wanted to scream ‘Have you ever been on Yorii you ignorant son-of-a-bimbo?’ Hell, the conditions on Yorii were better when the Ashiro Prefecture and even the Achemar Combat Region had been in charge. He'd read Kontley’s Hole of Darkness a couple of times during down time on the teams. And he'd been on Skondia, not that there was any trace of it going in or out. And Platinum City now was the new ‘Hole of Darkness’ on freakin’ steroids. The only thing worse than having the Clans in charge was having the freakin’ Free Skondia Mutineer handling things. But, of course, the problem with Free Skondia Mutineers wasn't that they were totally phukked up Rebels. Oh, no, the problem with Free Skondia Mutineers were all the fault of colonialism and ‘Capellan Confederation’s military adventures.’ Well, he'd been on one ‘ Capellan Confederation military adventure’ on Tikonov and as far as he was concerned the best thing to do was spray the whole damned place with biochemical agents, including the freakin’ nomadic tribes, shoot anyone that tried to leave and start over. Attitudes like this, of course, didn't sit very well with his professors. It also didn't fit very well with the pretty little airheads that were being fed a steady diet of leftist propaganda bullshit. And no matter how he tried, he'd always end up opening up his mouth and pointing out that it was leftist propaganda bullshit. That the problem with Free Skondia Mutineers was their freakin’ brainwashing, which was totally phukked up and had been before colonialization and was going to stay that way until somebody beat some sense into their heads. At which point terms like ‘militarist’ and ‘baby-killer’ and, with the real intellectuals, ‘myrmidon’ would start getting tossed around. What was funny was that some of the most leftist, ball-busting, bimbos seemed to get off on his being a hard ass. There was one little brunette wearing a beret just like that Free Skondia Mutineers General Sakamoto that he swore was getting ready to go down on him right in the middle of the damned argument. But he'd blown her off instead. The hell if he'd get told he was a mindless myrmidon and then screw the little bimbo. Sooner or later, something was going to give. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Industial District 20th March 3093 11:20:00 Local After three weeks of being under cover, Kevin’s really bad side was starting to peek out and that was something he feared more than failure. It violated the warrior code. Courage in Battle, Loyalty to House Kurita, Unity to the Dragon. Sometimes it seemed it was the only thing he had left. He was not going to become a damned rapist. He'd always managed to restrain that side of himself, even with the Capellan courtesan and the Kurita Gaias, when it didn't matter what you did, as long as you paid the mama-san. One of the reasons he'd just left the little bimbo in the beret hanging was if he'd taken her home it would have been grudge sex, with emphasis on ‘grudge’. And she'd have gone home sorry and sore. Which was all well and good, if it was lined out in advance and agreed to by both parties. But that wasn't where that particular relationship was going. His anger got hotter and hotter and there didn't seem to be any release in sight. He very much needed to kill someone. Just about anyone would do, but one of the little airhead bimbos was getting even farther up the list than his professors. Thoughts like that had carried him, unthinking, to the areas by the boutiques, specialty shops, and the strip malls. His path wasn't even vaguely in the direction of his safe house; in fact it was in the opposite direction. But there were quiet pathways where occasional young ladies wandered by, most of them so totally oblivious they wouldn't have noticed if he threw a rock in their direction. It was a sick addiction with a very specific name: ‘stalking’. He'd pick a dark spot, stand still as if he were simply drinking in the night and wait. Sooner or later some brainless bimbo would walk past, totally defenseless. Sometimes, just to get a rise out of them, he'd cough. And they'd notice the dark figure in the shadows, their eyes would get wide and they'd hurry past. He never looked at them then, he'd totally ignore them, but he could tell by their hurried steps, quite often clicking away in their high heels, how much he'd frightened them. Sick, but oh so very fun. And he considered it to be instructional for the little idiots. It might teach them to keep some situational awareness. He also considered it keeping in training. There were plenty of non-idiots among the girls on campus, girls who knew damned well that college cities had the highest rate of crime in the Chaos March. And, nine times out of ten, even with the ones who were alert, he could avoid being seen even standing in plain sight. His platoon name was ‘Shadow’ and it had been hard earned. The ability to stay hidden and reek unholy havoc he'd had even before he was on the teams and one that he'd raised to a high pitch in various back water world shitholes. He could just . . . blend. If he put on local clothes and spent some time watching local moves, he could move among the populace of half the Sphere unnoticed. A little heavy-set, jaw a little square, shoulders a little broad, but nobody seemed to take that into account. Grow a little stubble, cover his haircut and he was anything from an Arab to a Yiddish. As long as he didn't open his mouth: he'd never had language training and the ten different languages he did know extended to ‘where's the bathroom’ and ‘lie on the floor and put your hands on your head.’ The spot he'd chosen overlooked Baldwin Street, which ran between the Barnes building, The Adept, and the Military Surplus Store. Better to eat the shit of his cover story at the college, pretend he was interested in getting his history degree like he would go looking for a teaching job. Coach track or swimming, teach history and just . . . veg. He stopped vegging as he spotted a nice quarry, older woman, blonde, nice tits in a midriff top, ruffled miniskirt revealing long, shapely legs and black high heels clicking along on the sidewalk heading west on Baldwin. The New Avalon fashions had come together nicely in the last year with just about everything a heterosexual male wanted to see women wearing being the ‘in’ thing. It was like some over-sexed ancient Greek god had told fashion designers exactly what he wanted them to push. She was probably coming back from a bank over on Broad . . . she was ‘club’ dressed . . . headed down to the Adept along Lumpkin. And too preoccupied to stay to the more traveled and populated ways. Probably a business woman type, he thought. It was as professional a snatch as he'd ever seen. The wheeled custom van slowed down, the door opened, a man stepped out in a trot, the bag went over the blonde's head, she was lifted into the van before she could even start kicking, the door closed and the van started to accelerate. It took no more than a couple of seconds. As far as Kevin could tell there was no one in sight of the snatch, certainly no one in easy view and if you hadn't been looking right at the woman you probably wouldn't have been able to process it. Whoosh. The woman was just . . . gone. Except the van had to stop at the west end of Park Street, where it intersected Lumpkin, and Kevin realized he was already down the hill in a sprint, off the low wall by the sidewalk, his jump bag banging on his back as he accelerated down the middle of the road, no cars in sight and it kept him out of the view, mostly, of the driver. The van started to pull out onto Lumpkin and Kevin leapt upwards, landing lightly on the ladder at the back of the van, crouched. If he lost track of the van the woman was going to be raped and then disappear, probably into an unmarked grave. He hated rapists more than any ‘normal’ human being. They purely pissed him off. He'd spent his entire sexually adult life fighting the urge to use his not inconsiderable strength to possess and take instead of woo and cajole. He'd fought his demons to a standstill again and again when it would have been so easy to give in. He'd had one truly screwed up bimbo get completely naked, with him naked and erect between her legs, and she still couldn't say ‘yes.’ And he'd just said: ‘that's okay’ and walked away with an amazing case of blue balls. When men gave in to that dark side, it made him even more angry than listening to leftist bimbos scream about ‘31st century civilization’ and how it was so screwed up. The van was a wheeled, older, modern custom van like Terrorist tended to drive and from inside he could hear the struggle going on and the muffled cries of the woman followed by slaps. It made him angry as hell. But the good news was unless somebody saw him on the back of the van and vectored in the police, he stood a good chance of being able to kill someone and not blow his cover. This was probably a bunch of damned illegals who'd decided they wanted to party with a hot chick. And they were going to be seriously screwed up, armed or not, as soon as this damned van stopped. He might even get laid out of it, if not by the blonde, who was going to be pretty screwed up from this experience, then by some girly who'd take pity on the poor hero. The van headed south on Lumpkin through the industrial area and towards the west side of town. It was late morning but since the nuke, there was hardly anyone out and if anyone saw him he couldn't tell. There weren't even any cars behind the van or he'd have waved at them or something. He wanted to get his mad out by killing some of the bastards in the van, they were ripping cloth now, but he figured at least trying to be the ‘good citizen’ instead of the ‘vigilante’ would be a good idea. He couldn't bring in the police himself, he'd left his communicator charging by his bed before leaving the safe house and hadn't been back to pick it up. And unless someone saw him soon, the van would get into darker, and less populated, areas where he might never get spotted. He kept hanging on to the ladder, swinging through turns, crouched down to stay out of sight, half hoping some cop cruiser would pull up behind them and half hoping it wouldn't. Most of the cops stayed up towards the center of Platinum City on Friday and Saturday, closer to the action. And, proverbially, there was never a cop around when you needed them. This time, especially. Not even any damned cars. The van had gotten off of Lumpkin and into neighborhoods that were mostly on the fringe of radioactivity. Neighborhoods with speed bumps that were a real bitch to hang on through. The route appeared to be planned and he started wondering if he was really dealing with a group of Terrorist. The snatch looked professional, to his trained eye, and the egress also looked professional. Which either made it a group of long term serial rapists, even more fun to kill, or . . . something else. The van finally pulled into an industrial complex, closed and dark, and slowed through a series of turns. Kevin got a look at a dead end, a parking lot with a few cars, wheeled and hover, a person standing in the shadows and . . . He was off the back of the van, tumbling as quietly as he could into a roadside ditch, before his mind fully processed the Gunther MP-20 the sentry was holding. He hadn't seen any vid-phone booths in miles, the buildings around the guarded one were all dark which meant no getting to a phone easily. And a sentry meant that this wasn't just a simple snatch for sex, this was . . . something else. ................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS WORD COUNT 2718 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #40 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #40] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 15 August 2016 - 02:20 PM DC-RD-06-02 #40 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Free Skondia Mutineers Staging Coven 20th March 3093 11:30:00 Local Hsu dropped the jump bag and leopard crawled down the ditch, heading for the building. The sentry was at the front and Hsu brief glimpse hadn't spotted one on the side. But there were some windows. He needed more intel before he figured out how to call in support and the windows might tell him something. As soon as he was around the side and out of sight of the front sentry he leopard crawled across to the wall of the brick building and crouched in the shadows at the base. The window was about eight feet up, which wasn’t much of a jump for a guy who was five ten and in top shape, and he knew he didn't dare make much sound. He squatted and then sprung upward, his hands clamping onto the narrow sill, the entire evolution completed in near perfect silence. He waited for a moment to listen for reaction, then slowly chinned himself up to the window. The room was mostly open with some metal boxes that looked a bit like coffins lining the walls. The van was parked inside and there was a container vehicle pulled in with its doors open. The blonde, now stripped of everything but bra and panties, tied hand and foot with fast-strips and with a gag stuffed in her mouth, was on the ground near a table in the middle. One of the boxes was being loaded into the container vehicle and, as he watched, the doors were closed and the vehicle pulled out. It was a red container with ‘OCCP’ on the back and a symbol like a burning cross of Free Skondia Mutineers. The doors were dented towards the top. The license plate was out of view. He got all of that in one brief glance and then went back to examining the room. There were seven subject males of apparent Tikonov persuasion in view. One was at the table, talking on what appeared to be a satellite phone. Three were standing by the van, between it and the blonde. A fourth sitting in the open side door. There was an additional subject female on a metal table like a surgery or butcher table, naked. She appeared to be unconscious, had had an IV inserted and something like a cloth diaper put on her lower regions. As he watched, two of the subject males lifted her up and lowered her into one of the ‘coffins.’ The IV was inserted into a pouch in the top and the top closed and latched from the outside. Kevin started to lower himself, having seen enough, when he heard a light hiss to his lower right. He closed his eyes, willing his vision to come back, and then looked down. An Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent in a light-jacket was pointing an MP-20 at him and gesturing for him to come down. Kevin, briefly, wondered why the guy hadn't shot him already. In a way the Logistics operative wished the target had done so. He was embarrassed. He'd mentally been bitching at the girls on campus about their security and here he'd gone and completely lost situational awareness. It was . . . annoying. He nodded at the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent in agreement, smiled nervously, dropped down, apparently stumbling on the fall, and rolled into the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent's legs. Reaching up, Kevin gripped the barrel of the submachine gun and rotated it upwards, ripping the grip out of the Insurgent's hands at the same time, then slammed it into the target's stomach before he could cry out. As soon as he had partial control of the weapon, which was attached to the target's body with a friction strap, he rotated it, pressed it into the man's chest, rotated the safety lever to burst and triggered three rounds. The entire action had taken no more than three seconds and the whole noise had been a grunt from the target and the sound of the MP-20's action. In the middle of taking down the target Kevin had noticed, from the ribbed feel of the barrel shroud, that the weapon was an Gunther MP-20 SD, one of the quietest silenced sub-guns in the Inner Sphere. Highly illegal in the five Major Houses. without the appropriate permits and uncommon among terrorists. On the other hand, Kevin had spent more time with one in his hands than he had with school books, including high school. He searched the target's body and retrieved three more magazines, checked the level in the one in the weapon, reached up, tugged the collar of his T-shirt down hard, then snugged the weapon into his shoulder and ghosted towards the front of the building. There was a sentry at the front and this one was apparently a rover. He knew he'd made two mistakes, one in not checking for the rover and one in losing situational awareness. Part of it was eagerness. He really wanted to kill these sons-of-bitches and he wanted to save the women. From what he'd seen, they were being transported. Where was a big question. But Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent, as these clearly were, weren't going to negotiate. If the police tried to handle this like a normal crime, all the women were going to die. United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army would only negotiate so as to get maximum news coverage and then kill the women in the worst way they could manage. He did a mental check and decided that this constituted a mission that he could do with a good conscience. ‘Determine what operations Free Skondia Mutineers was conducting in the system, and hinder them as much as possible. ‘ Kidnapping was a de jure and de facto stripping of civil rights, and local authorities, however much they were the legal group to handle it, were not going to be competent to do so. Kevin knew it was so much bullshit. But he also knew that if he managed to extract the women, nobody was going to give a shit how he'd done it. The liaison that tried him would get tossed out of office so fast the door would hit him, or more likely her, Randee Le roux, knowing liberal bimbos and their incredible stupidity, in the ass. Screw it. If he went for commo, the sentry would be found, the two women would die and so, probably, would the others, wherever they were going. Then the whole operation would just up and disappear. It was take-down time. With that in mind, he shouldered the MP-20 and ghosted forward along the wall. Nearing the corner he actually let himself make some noise, as if he was the roving sentry coming up to the corner. No reason to startle the guy until he had to. When he came to the corner he stepped outward, still at tactical present, and leaned to the left. The target was standing by a personnel door, speaking into a personnel communicator. State-of-the-Art from the looks of it. The comm unit fell out of his hands and into the grass by the side of the entrance pad as the three nine-millimeter rounds impacted with the side of the target's head. Twenty-one rounds left but only two spare magazines. Kevin stopped at the target and found three more, including the one in the target's weapon, and stuffed them in his back pockets. The morning was quiet, still no sound of alarm from the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent in the building. There was probably some sort of rotation schedule for the sentries. Time to get inside the decision cycle. He gently checked the handle on the door and determined that it was unlocked. Then the decision had to be made, slow or fast. He finally decided on slow and casual. One of the sentries coming in for some reason. He pulled the door open and stepped through looking unconcernedly to either side. The view from the door into the room was blocked by a stack of the ‘coffins.’ When he cleared them to either side, he'd be in view of the Insurgents. Time to go tactical again. He lifted the MP-20 to his shoulder and stepped to the side quickly. Party time. ............................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS WORD COUNT 1394 Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA DC-RD-06-02 #41 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Staging Area Daimyo Mobile HQ Vehicle 20th March 3093 18:00:00 Local Once Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka got to the Tai-sa’s command vehicle he knocked loudly on the door as he had no desire to be shot since she was so jumpy. "Enter" he hears. Keeping with night discipline, he enters and pulls the partition closed to not let light go out once he entered the interior of the vehicle. "Chu-i junior Grade Tanaka reporting as ordered, Ma'am," as he does so, he hands her the weathered case and the data chip. "Anything else?" he asks. “Perfect timing Kintaro. No, no. That will be all. You’ve done a marvelous job. Everyone, in case you have not formally met, this is Chu-i Kintaro Tanaka, commanding officer of our DEST Section,” introduced Tai-sa Onishi ‘Rough Ryder’ Razan. The nine assembled people all said there hellos and/or moved around the ample space inside the Daimyo to get close enough to offer Kintaro a hearty handshake. Included inside the think tank were the crew members of the Daimyo, Chu-i Karen Tsang and Kashira Usama T. Tarhuni with the archaeologist slash mechanic, Gunjin Mohammed Aleem and the geologist Shujin Tuan Nguyen. The two DropShip Commanders, Sho-i Johnny Yee and Sho-i Georgi Draganov. Also present was a Skondia Astronomer, Doctor Friend and to round it out there was Chu-i Reece Kimura and Tai-sa Onishi Razan. After the introductions were made Sho-i Torii Nashiro takes the weathered case and the data chip from Kintaro and says, “Now lets get started, shall we?” She sat the weathered case on the comm console and carefully removed a large sheet of folded parchment from the case. She spread it out over the top of the holo-tank in the center of compartment. Torii held her breath and stared at the four large circles etched into the old parchment, with strange diagrams cut within their circumferences. “They’re glyphs of some kind,” she said solemnly . “They look like maps,” spoke up Yee. “Maps of what?” Aleem asked. A bemused smile spread Tarhuni’s lips. “Four different projections of the Skondia.” Nguyen peered through his glasses over Torii’s shoulder. “Ridiculous. These glyphs don’t look like any ancient maps I’ve ever seen. They’re too detailed, and they certainly bear no resemblance to geography as I know it.” “That’s because your shallow mind cannot visualize the continents and shorelines as they were thousands of years ago,” Dr. Friend admonished. “I must agree with Tuan,” said Torii. “All I see is a series of what might be large and small islands with jagged coastlines surrounded by wavy images suggesting a vast ocean.” “My vote goes for a butterfly damaged by antiaircraft fire on a Rorschach inkblot test,” Yee muttered cynically. “You just dropped fifty points on the gray matter scale,” Tarhuni came back. “I thought that of all the people, I could count on you to solve the puzzle.” “What do you see?” Torii asked Tarhuni. “I see four different views of the planet as seen from the continent of Bangalore over a thousand years ago.” “All jokes aside,” said Yee, “you’re right.” Torii stood back for an overall view. “Yes, I can begin to distinguish other continents now. But they’re in different positions. It’s almost as if the planet has tilted.” “I fail to see how Steen fits into the picture,” Nguyen insisted. “It’s right in front of your eyes,” interrupted Aleem Torii asked, “How can you be so dead sure?” “I’d be interested in knowing how you reached that conclusion,” Nguyen scoffed. Tarhuni looked at Torii. “Do you have any chalk in that case we can use to highlight inscriptions on the map?” She smiled. “Chalk went out. Now we prefer talcum powder.” “Okay, let’s have it, and some Kleenex. All women carry Kleenex.” She dug in her pocket and handed him a small packet of tissues. Then she fished around in her tote bag through the noteputer, vid-phone, and other tools used for tricks-of-the-trade, until she found a container of powdered talc. Tarhuni spent the short wait wetting the tissue with bottled water and dampening the glyphs etched on the map so the talc would adhere in the hallows in the map. Then Torii passed him the talc, and he began dabbing it on the smooth surface around the ancient parchment. After about three minutes, he stood back and admired his handiwork. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you an under water virtual Fortress.” All ten gazed intently at the crude coating of white talc Tarhuni had dabbed on the old parchment and then wiped clean, outlining the etched features. It now bore a distinct similarity to a massive underwater habitat with five tunnel radials out to nearby island complexes. “What does all this mean?” Torii asked, confused. “What it means,” explained Razan, gesturing toward everyone standing around mute each lost in their own thoughts, “is that we just discovered why the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army has fought so hard for this planet and how they are able to hide so effectively. They are hiding right here beneath our noses in what is apparently a Star League era underground Fortification.” “How can that be!” Nguyen snorted. “It’s a scientifically proven fact that all but seven percent of the planet has been covered by an ice sheet for milMilitia of years.” Onishi Razan didn’t say anything for several seconds. She stared at the ancient map as if were alive, her eyes moving from one face to the next as if trying to communicate with them. Finally, she gestured toward the data chip. “The answers,” she said with steadfast conviction, “will come from there.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Staging Area Daimyo Mobile HQ Vehicle 20th March 3093 19:45:00 Local “Would you all care to sit down?” said Razan, motioning to metal chairs and bench spaced in a square in the center of the Mobile HQ’s four ton Troop Hold. Once they were seated, a Black Ronin’s kitchen staff member served coffee and sandwiches from a small galley behind the cab. After everyone was seated and moderately comfortable the lights dimmed and the data chip player whirred to life. On the screen the words: CATACLYSM Was displayed prominently before fading out to be replaced with a comet’s impact on what appeared to be Skondia sometime around seven thousand B.C. Then it panned back to show several small asteroid fragments no larger than a fist that burn up upon entry into the atmosphere striking Skondia on a regular basis almost consistent with one a day. And then about every century, one approximately a hundred and fifty feet in diameter stuck Skondia, then the data chip made a comparison to the asteroid that produced the crater in the center of the island complexes, and the other that exploded before impact in Bangalore in 1908 that plastered eight hundred square miles. Once every million years, an asteroid half a mile wide strikes with a force equal to detonating every nuclear device on Skondia simultaneously. Over two thousand of these big celestial missiles cross Skondia’s orbit on a regular schedule. Then the video panned out and went blank and the lights came back up. “These are not stupid people,” Tarhuni said convincingly. “I find it inconceivable that they are capable of irrational judgment. So is there a comet coming, or isn’t there?” “Karen asked to come along,” said Razan, without preamble. “She and her Daimyo aides investigated the Free Skondia Mutineers’s local activities and came up with some intriguing information.” “What I found in the past two days is quite worrisome,” Karen began. “Very quietly, under astounding secrecy, General Sathen Sakamoto personal entourage and the entire FSM Division have been recruiting extensively, gathering up consumables, perishables, dry goods, and ammunition. All bank accounts have been cleaned out. Every asset large and small has been liquidated. BilMilitia of dollars were converted into uranium, the principle compound for making nuclear devices, that was transported to a secret location . . . ” “Where it is now stored in the cargo compartments of their fleet of ships,” Tarhuni finished. “It’s as though the entire Free Skondia Mutineers has never existed.” “Not a pretty picture,” said Torii. “Don’t lose any sleep over it,” Friend said, smiling. “Your odds of dying from an asteroid are twenty thousand to one during your lifetime. We can’t, however, discount the logical possibility that it’s only a question of time before our luck runs out.” Tarhuni poured a cup of coffee. “I assume you’re talking about a really stupendous bang.” “Indeed,” said Friend, nodding vigorously. “Once every one hundred million years, a mammoth asteroid or comet strikes Skondia, like the one that smacked into the sea off Tyrrhenia sixty-five million years ago and caused the extinction of all plant life and reptiles. This impact came from an object six miles in diameter that left a crater one hundred and twenty miles wide.” “So we have impact,” said Razan. “Then what happened?” Karen stared at Friend with rapt interest. “A chain reaction comprising what type of disasters?” “A measureless inverted cone of red-hot rock, steam, dust, and debris was hurled up and above the atmosphere, only to plunge in a fiery rain back down on Skondia, igniting uncontrollable forest fires around the world. Huge amounts of sulfur, shock-heated nitrogen, and great doses of fluorides were injected into the atmosphere. The ozone layer would have been destroyed, skies blotted out, as winds of hurricane strength whipped across the land and seas. Our simulation suggests this cloud of debris and smoke lasted no less than fourteen months. This alone would have killed off most of Skondia’s life and collapsed the food chain.” Tarhuni looked at the astronomer. “You don’t paint a very pretty picture.” Torii set down her cup. “The primitive people of Skondia were so badly decimated and fragmented, they kept no record of their activities for thousands of years. Except for the inscriptions on this map, most of which were lost or buried, the only memories of the cataclysm that were passed down came by word of mouth. Only after the early settlers and then the Star League civilization of Platinum City reinvented the written language did records and stories of the deluge begin to spread.” “Who knows what cities,” said Reece, “what palaces with their archaeological treasures lie scattered on the deep seafloor or buried under hundreds of feet of silt and rock? Except for the inscriptions left on this map, we have no way of assessing the splendor of the distant past before civilizations began rebuilding themselves.” Friend had remained silent while each member of the group envisioned the nightmare. He let his eyes rove around the sitting area inside the command truck, curiously observing the expressions of abhorrence in their eyes. Only Onishi Razan’s eyes seemed to be composed. It was as if she was contemplating something much different, something far off in the distance. “And thus ends the cataclysm,” said Razan morosely. Friend slowly shook his head. “I haven’t yet come to the worst part,” he said, his earlier smile gone. “Only in the past few years have scientists come to realize the major upheavals Skondia has experienced in the past, with and without influence by objects from outer space. We know now that a significant impact by a large comet or asteroid has the capability to cause the Skondia’s crust to shift. Chauncey Hapbard put forth the theory that because it literally floats on an inner molten core, the crust miles thick, can and has rotated around the core’s axis, causing great extremes in climate and the movement of the continents. It’s called Skondia crust displacement, and its consequences can be catastrophic. At first, Hapbard’s theory was laughed at by other Skondia scientists. Then Victor von Steinbeck focused his intellect on it and ended up agreeing with Hapbard.” “Sort of like the coating of Teflon around a soccer ball,” suggested Aleem. “The same principle,” Friend acknowledged. “Our computer simulation suggested that the impact exerted enough pressure to move the crust. The result was that some continents, islands, and other landmasses shifted closer to the equator, while others shifted farther away. The movement also caused the North and South Poles to shift from their former positions into warmer climates, unleashing trilMilitia of tons of water that raised the surface of the oceans over almost four hundred feet. To give you an example, or woman could have walked from West End across the Channel to the tip of Bangalore without getting their feet wet. “In the end, the whole world was rearranged. The North Pole that was in the center of Bangalore was now far to the north in what is now known as the North Polar Sea. The Ampheres Islands also shifted north in an incredibly short time span, as evidenced by fruit trees with leaves and woolly mammoths that were found quick-frozen, with vegetation undigested in their stomachs that no longer grew within a thousand miles of that location. Because the Tyrrhenia Islands and most of the Gilbralter Islands revolved south, the great ice age abruptly ended. The Southern Islands also shifted south, nearly two thousand miles from the region it had once occupied in the southern.” “Was Skondia’s orbit affected?” Aleem asked. “No, the orbit remained on its present track around the sun. Nor was the Skondia’s axis altered. The equator remained where it had been since the beginning. The four seasons came and went as always. Only the face of the globe had changed.” “That explains a great deal,” said Tarhuni, “such as how the Star League could draw a map of the underwater habitat without its ice mass.” “And their city under the ice that Free Skondia Mutineers discovered,” said Torii. “Its climate was habitable before the shift.” “What about the Skondia’s axis of rotation?” queried Johnny. “Would that change?” Friend shook his head. “Skondia’s tilt of twenty-three point four degrees would remain constant. The equator would also remain constant. Only the crust above the fluid core would move.” Razan said, “If we could get back to the comet for a moment, it’s time for you to answer ‘Buhdda Fist’s question. Is the data chip right in predicting a cataclysmic collision with the twin of the comet that struck Skondia in seven thousand B.C.?” “May I have another cup of coffee?” Friend asked. “Certainly,” said Karen, pouring from the pot on the center table. Friend took a few sips and set the cup down. “Now, then, before I answer your question, Tai-sa, I’d like to describe briefly the new Asteroid and Comet Attack alert System, which came online just last year. A number of telescope facilities and specially designed instruments have been set up in different areas of the world for the express purpose of discovering asteroids and comets whose orbits approach Skondia’s. Already, astronomers manning the facilities have discovered over forty asteroids that will come unpleasantly close to Skondia at some point within its orbit. But detailed calculations reveal that they will all miss by a comfortable margin in the years ahead.” “Have they known about the approach of the second comet,” said Karen in dismay, “and suppressed any warning of the threat?” “No,” said Friend. “Though the astronomers agreed to keep news of such possible encounters secret for forty-eight hours, until computer projections could definitely say a collision was imminent. Only when they are certain a collision is imminent would news of the discovery be made public.” “So what you are saying . . . ” said Aleem. “Is that there is no emergency.” Tarhuni looked at Friend. “Come again.” “The event in seven thousand B.C.,” explained Friend, “was a million-to-one chance occurrence. The comet that struck Skondia, and the comet that arrived a few days later and missed, were not twins. They were separate objects in different orbits that happened to cross paths with Skondia at almost the same time. An incredible coincidence, nothing more.” “How soon is the second comet due to return?” Tarhuni inquired warily. Friend thought a moment, then said, “Our best guess is that it will fly by no closer than eight hundred thousand miles from us . . . in another ten thousand years.” WORD COUNT 2763 Edited by Murasaki, 15 August 2016 - 05:48 PM. Like This Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #42 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #42] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV Posted 15 August 2016 - 06:09 PM DC-RD-06-02 #42 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Staging Area Daimyo Mobile HQ Vehicle 20th March 3093 21:00:00 Local There came several moments of stunned silence, as perplexity flooded the minds of the people seated around Dr. Friend. Reece swore softly under his breath. He stared steadily at Friend, as if attempting to read something in the astronomer’s eyes, an uncertainty maybe, but there was none. “The comet . . . ” he began. “Its name is Bartholamule, after the amateur astronomer who rediscovered it,” Friend interrupted. “You say the Wallace comet and the second comet that the holo-vid simulated are one and the same?” Friend nodded vigorously. “No doubt about it. Calculations confirm that its orbit coincided with the comet that caused the cataclysm of seven thousand B.C.” Tarhuni glanced at Razan and Kimsura, then back to Friend. “There can be no mistake?” Friend shrugged. “A margin of error of perhaps two hundred years, but certainly no more. The only other large object to enter Skondia’s atmosphere in recorded history was the one that flattened those eight hundred square miles in South Sea. Only now are astronomers beginning to believe that, instead of a colossal impact, it was actually a near miss.” “Surely Free Skondia Mutineers must have had access to the same data,” said Karen, looking bewildered. “It doesn’t make sense for them to liquidate every asset of the Free Skondia Mutineers after having spent bilMilitia of dollars restoring a fleet of ships to survive a cataclysm they know is not about to happen.” “We all agree with you,” said Razan. “It may simply be that General Sathen Sakamoto and his men are nothing more than a bunch of uber fanatics.” “Not only his men,” said Johnny, “but two hundred and seventy-five thousand other brain washed individuals who led by them and look forward to the voyage to nowhere.” “That doesn’t sound like an insignificant cult of crazies to me,” said Karen. “Very true,” ‘Iceman’ agreed. “When Nguyen and I triangulated on their encampment, we found a dedicated fanaticism with surviving the deluge.” “I reached the same conclusion,” added Torii. “The conversations I intercepted regarding the coming cataclysm were resolute. There was not the slightest doubt in their minds that disaster would overtake the world and that they had been given the gift of rebuilding a new civilization without the handicaps of the old.” Johnny looked at Torii. “An echo of Noah and his ark.” “But on a far grander scale,” Tarhuni reminded him. Razan shook her head slowly. “I have to admit that this whole dilemma is a mystery to me.” “Free Skondia Mutineers must have a solid motive.” Razan paused, as everyone stared at her in silence. “There can be no other answer. If they are convinced the civilized world is going to be swept away and buried for all time, they must know something no one else on Skondia knows.” “I can assure you, Tai-sa,” said Friend, “that disaster is not soaring in from the solar system. Certainly not in the next few days. Our tracking network sees no large asteroids or comets coming anywhere close to Skondia’s orbit in the foreseeable future, certainly not before the end of the next century.” “So what else could produce such a disaster? Is there any way of predicting a crust displacement or a polar shift?” Aleem asked Friend. “Not without the opportunity to study such a phenomenon at first hand. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and tsunami waves have been witnessed and recorded. But no crust movements or polar shifts have occurred since geographical science emerged from the Greeks. So we have no solid data upon which to draw enough conclusions to even attempt predictions.” “Are there conditions on Skondia that could cause the crust and poles to shift?” asked Reece. “Yes,” Friend answered slowly. “There are natural forces that could upset Skondia’s balance.” “Such as?” “The most likely scenario would be an ice shift at one of the poles.” “Is that possible?” “Skondia is like a giant child’s top or gyroscope rotating on its axis, as it spins every year around the sun. And, like a top, it is not in perfect balance, because the landmasses and poles are not ideally placed for perfect stabilization. So Skondia wobbles as it rotates. Now, if one of Skondia’s poles grows until it becomes oversize, it affects the wobble, like an unbalanced wheel on your car. Then it could cause a crust displacement or polar shift. I know respected scientists who believe this happens on a regular basis.” “How often?” “Approximately every six to eight thousand years.” “When was the last shift?” “By analyzing cores pulled from deep beneath the seas, oceanographers have dated the last shift at nine thousand years ago, the approximate age your comet struck Skondia.” “So you might say we’re due,” said Tarhuni. “Actually, overdue.” Friend made a helpless gesture with his hands. “We can’t say with any confidence. All we know is that when the day comes, the shift will be very sudden. There will be no warning.” Karen stared at Friend uneasily. “What will be the cause?” “The ice formation that accumulates on top of Ampheres is not distributed equally. One side of the continent receives much more than the other. Every year, over fifty billion tons of ice are added to the Kessel Province alone, a growing mass which increases Skondia’s wobble. In time, as the weight shifts, so will the poles, causing, as von Steinbeck himself predicted, trilMilitia of tons of water and ice thousands of feet high to race from both poles toward the equator. The North Pole will sweep south and the South Pole will sweep north. All the forces that were unleashed by a comet strike will be repeated. The major difference is that instead of a world population of about a several hundred thousand years ago, now we’re looking at a world populated by one million people who will be swept to their deaths. Platinum City, West End, Grant Town, Pelican Point will be completely inundated, while cities far inland will be leveled to the ground and disappear. Hardly a slab of concrete would be left where milMilitia walked only a few days earlier.” “And if the Kessel Province were suddenly to detach itself from the rest of the continent and drift out to sea?” Torii put to Friend, leaving the question hang. Friend’s face turned grim. “It’s an event we’ve already considered. A simulation shows that a drastic movement by the Shelf would cause an imbalance broad enough to trigger a sudden shift of Skondia’s crust.” “What do you mean by drastic movement?” “Our simulation demonstrated that should the entire ice shelf break away and drift sixty miles to sea, its relocated mass would increase Skondia’s wobble enough to trigger a pole shift.” “How long do you estimate it would take to drift sixty miles?” Friend thought a moment, then said, “Taking into account the sweep of the currents in that part of the Northern Sea, I should say no more than thirty-six hours.” “Is there no way to stop the drift?” asked Karen. “I don’t see how.” Friend shook his head. “No, I doubt if a thousand nuclear bombs could melt enough of the ice shelf to make a difference. But, look, this is all theoretical. What else could possibly cause the Shelf to go drifting out to sea?” Reece looked at Razan, who returned the stare. Both commanders were envisioning the same nightmare, and both read each other’s mind. Razan’s stare moved to Karen. “Free Skondia Mutineers’s nanotech facility that processes minerals from seawater, how far is it from the Kessel Province?” Razan asked Karen. Karen’s eyes widened. “Surely, you don’t think . . . ” “How far?” Razan gently pressured. Finally, she drew a deep breath. “The plant sits right on the edge.” Torii turned her attention to Friend. “Do you have an estimate of the Kessel Province’s size, Doctor?” “It’s immense,” said Friend, stretching out his hands for effect. “I can’t give you exact dimensions. All I know is that it’s the world’s largest body of floating ice.” “Give me a few minutes,” said Aleem, as he scooched over to a computer terminal and began typing on the keyboard. They all sat quietly and watched while Aleem linked up with the Ronins’ memory core aboard the Black Ronin. Within a few minutes, he was reading off the data on his monitor. “Estimates of its mass range as high as two hundred and ten thousand square miles, making it approximately the size of Terra’s Texas. The circumference, not counting the perimeter facing the sea, is nearly fourteen hundred miles. Thickness runs from eleven hundred to twenty-three hundred feet. Ice scientists liGeorgi it to a gigantic floating raft.” Aleem looked up at the faces absorbed in his report. “There is, of course, a mountain of additional information on the ice shelf, but those are the essentials.” “How is it possible,” asked Torii, “for man to force two hundred and ten thousand square miles of ice to crack and move apart?” “I haven’t the foggiest clue,” said Razan. “But I’ll bet the farm that Sakamoto has planned and worked for three generations to do just that.” “Good Lord!” muttered Friend. “It’s unthinkable.” “The pieces,” said Johnny darkly, “are coming together.” “By whatever means, they intend to break the ice shelf away from land and move it out to sea, upsetting Skondia’s rotation and causing an increase in its wobble. Once the imbalance is in the critical stage, a polar shift and a crust displacement will occur. Then Free Skondia Mutineers will return from there WarShip several years after the upheaval abates. When they are satisfied that Skondia is livable again, they’ll come ashore and establish a new order, they will launch the final Jihad, on the bodies of a million innocent people, along with the mass destruction of animal and sea life.” Everyone seated in the truck looked stricken, faces locked in abhorrence and despair. No one could conceive of such a horror. No mind could grasp the total inhumanity of such an act. “God help us all,” Karen murmured softly. Reece looked at Razan. “You must inform the Ambassador.” “I’ve kept her science board and chief of staff up to date on our investigation, but until now no one has taken the threat seriously.” “They’d better reconsider damned quick,” said Johnny. “We’d better rethink our options,” said Razan, “and come up with a plan of action. With only three days to go, we haven’t got much time. Not if we want to stop Free Skondia Mutineers from launching an apocalypse.” WORD COUNT 1817 Like This Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #43 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #43] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV Posted 17 August 2016 - 06:37 AM DC-RD-06-02 #43 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Craven Plateau Hidden Base Skondia Garrison 19th March 3093 13:20:00 Local Maybe he was trying to make himself fall backwards. Maybe he was trying to get a kink in his neck muscles. Maybe he was just enjoying the moment. Whatever it was he was doing, the Skondia Garrison Major, Fujita Morinaka, found himself easily able to admire the multi-story ship rising far above him. Gravel crunched as someone stepped up beside the battalion commander. "Sho' is a pretty ship." "Glad you think so, Major." Finally, Morinaka looked down, fighting off a bit of vertigo as he did so, and looked over. Jackie Sherrill was staring upwards at his new ride, every bit of pride he felt hidden behind a decades-old visage of calm and nonchalance. "Think you can fly her?" "Yep." He didn't look down. Laughing, Fujita Morinaka slapped his old friend on the back and started walking towards the nearest loading ramp forty yards away. As he walked, he admired the new machines being brought down the ramp to join their brethren outside the ship. A skeleton crew, soon to be augmented with Major Sherrill's men, was overseeing the details while his bride handled the big picture. From this distance, her coveralls did much to diminish her womanly figure. Still, he had seen her undressed many times, and he often had to fight hard to keep that mental image from being a permanent attachment to her presence. It was a good problem for a husband to have, he supposed, and he was more happy that the news of her pregnancy didn't seem to have affected it negatively in any way. Long strides ate up ground, his mind taking in other details as he went. Astechs were busy on the large form of the captured Free Skondia Mutineers Rifleman. Morinaka was still debating where that machine would fit in his battalion's table of operations and equipment, or TO&E for short, but he had a good idea where it would end up. A more difficult question to answer was who would pilot it. His battalion was missing several pilots, and there would be few, possibly no replacements until Lieutenant Jonah Seah could bring in the trainees from the secrete training facility in Demasques. Still, there weren't enough trainees to go around, so Fujita had begun his own personal search for replacements in addition to the standard company notices about such thing. Battalion notices, he thought to himself. It would take some getting used to, thinking of the Garrison as a Battalion instead of a company. Not the smallest hurdle was the garrison’s old tradition of referring to everything as ‘the regiment’. Home is the regiment, the saying went. Still, the Skondia Garrison wasn't the first planetary garrison to make battalion size. Technically they weren't even the first in the old Chaos March to do so, although he would wager quite a bit that they were still the most powerful garrison unit being farmed out of the Lyran Alliance. He paused as he reached the bottom of the ramp. His wife, seemingly sensing his presence, turned and smiled. He winked back, which got answering glint in the former Miss Simpson's eye. As she looked away, he suddenly felt a pang of....absence. Christopher Blair should've been at his side, the battalion executive officer helping to keep things organized, and him abreast of anything untoward. He'd appointed Lieutenant Chia-Ching Wang to fill the XO slot for the Skondia Garrison, but nothing official had been signed for by parliament. His brow creased as he considered that the task really needed to be handled in short order. A new determination in his step, he strode up the walkway and into the ship. It was hard to be as impressed by the inside of the ship as it was by the outside. The Dictator's spheroid hull was built around three separate company-sized ’Mech bays stacked one atop the other. This meant that each bay was the same height as, say, a bay in Union-Class. However, they had a much larger diameter, giving one an impression similar to being in a large room with low ceilings. Still, after you'd been outside, it was underwhelming. All that aside, the Dictator had some unique positives and negatives. Each bay was isolated from the other, with a dedicated drop mechanism, access ramp, and door. That meant that the ramp for Bay 3, if you counted from the bottom up, was much higher than the one for Bay 1, and therefore longer, and logically, steeper. Morinaka had found a few accounts that had some old Star League recon or fast attack units clamoring to be stored up high so that, upon landing, they could come charging down the ramp, gaining speed with each step. Only an army with the resources of the Terran Hegemony would've cared so little about replacement actuators, and potentially whole machines, to allow such craziness. On the other hand, Morinaka had considered putting a flotilla of hovercraft in the upper bay. They could handle the change in slope far more easily than a legged machine. A certain fact had quickly prevented him from going full out with the plan; this Dictator was the regimental command variant. It carried two companies of BattleMechs plus eighteen heavy vehicles. The vehicle bay was lowest, providing as much protection as possible to the assumedly more important 'Mech bays. The former Marian Knight was happy to trade a small planning inconvenience for the extra command and control facilities that came with this version. Plus, the Dictator was a reliable, proven design. It had served long after production ceased over three hundred and fifty years ago; not that this particular ship was anything but brand new. Someone had brought the design back from the dead, rumored to be the Magistry of Canopus, and Skondia was the beneficiary. However, the other general drawback to any Dictator's internal alignment was the inability to move heavy equipment, vehicles, or BattleMechs between bays unless grounded. The bays were independently sealed, allowing for excellent damage control, but playing heck with logistics in space. When Di Tron Heavy Industries had started to design the class in 2582, there were obviously some requirements handed down the SLDF Department of Procurement. Morinaka was confident that Kate could handle the challenges, but he made a mental note to make doubly sure. For himself, he had to start really thinking in terms of a battalion-sized task force. With a Leopard-Class, his 'Mech lances could go gallivanting off with fighter cover in tow. Now, he needed to group his three ‘Mech Lances carefully. A plethora of thoughts running through his mind, the battalion commander found the nearest lift and begin his ascent to his new quarters. The first order of business was to bring the ranking onplanet military leader, Tai-sa Onishi Razan, into the loop and inform her Ronins that the Skondia Garrison was now the proud owner of a Dictator-Class DropShip. WORD COUNT 1218 Major Fujita Morinaka Victor Assault-Class BattleMech Skondia GARRISON TN Like This Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #44 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #44] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV Posted 17 August 2016 - 09:11 AM DC-RD-06-02 #44 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Craven Plateau Hidden Base Skondia Garrison Dictator-Class DropShip Iwo Jima 19th March 3093 13:45:00 Local The new office was a good deal larger than his previous one. Designed for a regimental commander, Major Morinaka had had no qualms about sitting his battalion-level self in the plush leather chair. Of course, the chair only really did him some good in situations that involved gravity, but he'd still take it. Someone in the technical staff had already had his belongings carted over as well. The piece of armor emblazoned with the symbol of Clan Diamond Shark hung on one wall, surrounded by his awards, medals, and various certificates. All of them were fastened securely. Having that sort of flotsam jetting around during space travel was not a good idea. A pair of picture frames, an integral part of the desk, stood upright, both holding pictures of Kate, although Fujita did appear in the second. Topping things off, one of his antique cowbells was magnetically positioned on the nearby filing cabinet. It certainly felt familiar, despite its newness. The paperwork felt familiar as well. In this case, Fujita was dealing with actual paper. He still found it handy for organizational purposes, even when legal ones didn't require it. Right now, he had thirty-two sheets of paper scattered out before him, and several more in a stack on his desk. This was the heart of his battalion. Sixteen BattleMechs, and their pilots. Officially, all sixteen machines of war had already been doled out, but as battalion commander, and equally important, the head of the Skondia BattleMech garrison, he could make changes to that lineup at any time, and only be overruled officially by the Skondia Planetary Council. On this matter, that of his own battalion, he certainly didn't expect to be overruled. Command Lance, its composition set for several engagements now, was getting an equipment change for the first time in several years. His own Victor was still in place, but the other slots had changed. In the second slot was Tori von Wolffe and her Zeus. A few feet away, an official copy of a promotion order sat, already signed and waiting. Morinaka hoped to take advantage of Wolffe's experience, dated though much of it was, to use her as both lance and battalion executive officer. He had briefly considered Tulsi Drummond for the part, but certain...elements' potential reaction had convinced him to head elsewhere. Instead, he had issued her a field citation, and an official recommendation for promotion should a larger unit slot become available. That was a conversation he wasn't looking forward to. Command's third slot now held his own private property: the Archer, or their fire support ‘Mech as the ‘Mechwarriors called it. He'd also assigned his bondsman, Derek, to pilot it. The former Diamond Shark was an elite pilot, and that machine deserved such a commander. Derek was getting promoted as well. He probably wouldn't care, being a Clanner, but if nothing else, he'd hopefully see it as a sign that Fujita valued Derek’s skills as a warrior. The final position was the biggest change. He'd taken the captured Rifleman, and inserted it into his own lance. Right now, it was officially pilotless, but he'd managed to find a potential recruit to take the slot. Due to cramped cockpit, he wanted a pilot with a smaller frame, but one that liked heavy machines. A fellow by the name of Jacques ‘Napoleon’ Hebert had come up on the available-for-hire list, and Morinaka liked the look of him. Bouncing around between Lyran Guard regiments and Donegal units with no reported discipline problems, Hebert was apparently a rolling stone, and those types often found garrison units to their liking. It didn't hurt that his average assigned 'Mech weight during his career was over sixty-five tons. What sealed the deal was the fact that he listed at a paltry five feet, six inches, one hundred and thirty pounds. At least, that was what Morinaka came up with when he converted metric to the english system of measurements. The system was archaic, but he liked tradition. Besides, pounds just sounds better than kilos. He'd marked Hebert for a signing bonus slightly above the battalion average, and noted him as an important recruit. If he didn't hear back from the administrative staff on Skondia or Outreach within a few days, he had a note in his calendar to follow up. Bravo Lance was receiving the biggest change as far as tactics would go. Mentally, he had argued with himself for over an hour. Here was a close combat lance, designed and ready. However, the speed profile of their fastest member was a good fifty kilometers per hour past the remaining three. They'd used that as an asset in the past, but often times he had found himself ordering the swift Cicada into action to support the battalion's lighter elements. Finally, he'd decided to break the Cicada off to another lance, and insert the Griffin, formerly of Command, in its place. Both 'Mechs had veteran pilots, that was good because they were both going into lance command positions. Charlie Lance was set to swap out only one of their designs, but would have two new warriors. By pulling in the Wolverine and pushing out the Falcon, Fujita was creating a heavy scout lance with dual identical movement profiles for two sets of BattleMechs, supporting Wingman style. The same speed and jump capability would enhance their ability to operate as a unit. Morinaka only hoped that Jonah Seah was up to the challenge of taking over a new ride in the Shadow Hawk, bringing in a new design, and breaking in two new pilots. Josh Benson was still around, but he'd only served with the unit since the beginning of the year, and lost his ride during that campaign's fierce fighting. If Benson hadn't been one of the Drill Lieutenant’s trainees, Fujita might not have considered the moves he was. But being a regimental trainee was beneficial on many levels. His training was a known factor, and he'd been indoctrinated, if you would, into the regimental values. He passed muster in other words. Still, Fujita would keep an eye on things, frequently checking in with Lieutenant Seah. Lieutenant Seah....Morinaka thought it was high time Jonah moved on as well, but so far he hadn't shown a propensity for tactics beyond a lance level. Independent actions, yes. Company command? Not there yet. That left the Delta Lance. Morinaka tapped his finger on the sheet of the man he'd chosen to head up the new group. Odílio Hussain smiled back at him from a mugshot. The rank beside his name was highlighted, designating another change, this one to Lieutenant. The Cicada sheet lay beneath him, the Falcon from Charlie below that, followed by two more Falcon variants, FLC-4Nb and the FLC-6C. The Delta Lance was built for a mix of situations. Speed was their biggest asset, and he hoped to use them as an exploitation lance for now. When more money, more BattleMechs were available, this unit might be broken up. Then again, it might not. All three of the other 'Mechs were marked for either new trainees or new recruits. He had three sheets laid out, but wasn't one hundred percent certain about the choices yet. His hatch buzzer sounded somewhat quietly, providing an interruption, and not an unwelcome one. Mentally filing his thoughts away, he looked up from his desk, and spoke. "Come in." Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Craven Plateau Hidden Base Skondia Garrison Dictator-Class DropShip Allyn McKeen 19th March 3093 13:50:00 Local "Lieutenant Wolffe reporting as ordered, sir." Morinaka returned the salute, then quickly pointed to the chair opposite his desk. "Come in Lieutenant, have a seat." Fujita, himself, remained standing, leafing through a folder he had pulled out from a desk drawer. "Tell me, what do you know about running a battalion?" he asked, looking up from the folder's contents. Wolffe's lips scrunched. "Some, if planetary militia units count." The Major chuckled. "They do. I know you handled company command before, but I just needed to make sure you weren't totally lacking in the area where I need you." He closed the folder, then tossed it across. "I've officially made your field promotion permanent, and tasked you as my new lance executive officer. Any issues with that?" A wry smile appeared on the veteran's face. "No sir, none at all." "Good," Morinaka said. "That folder contains my recommendations for our seven new pilots. We get one of the trainees from Demasques, then have to bring in six others from traditional channels. I need your opinions on each one, as well as thoughts on the new lance makeups." He held up a finger. "Make sure you don't try to compare any newcomers with the people they're replacing." Morinaka watched Tori intently for a moment. Wolffe had served in a planetary militia, a local garrison force, before becoming a rebel in the fight against the Diamond Sharks. The thinking of an underground fighter was different than that of an officer in a garrison unit, particularly when it came to personnel assets. He was keeping a close eye on his new XO to make sure there weren't any conflicts in that area. Wolffe scanned the files for a moment, then spoke. "There are some serious veterans here, and also some real rookies. Do you have concerns about personality conflicts?” A good question. Fujita nodded. "I do. I'm hoping that Hussain's strong personality will be enough to reign in three newcomers" "Probably a good idea in putting the trainee in Delta as well. She'll give him another person already accustomed to how the battaliondoes things." Wolffe held up the sheet of Zoeya ‘Vixen’ Livingston. "Isn't it amazing how many 'Mechwarriors are physically attractive?" Morinaka shrugged. "Can't say I ever noticed. Anyway, take a look at that Mahmood fellow. He should tilt the balance back the other way." Her head cocking to the side, Wolffe let out a confirming grunt. "Yeah, you might say that." The rugged face of Arnold ‘Mahmood’ Thompkins stared back at her from the bio sheet. Bearded and somewhat unkempt, the man's scarred features spoke of many stories. The cigar clenched in between closed lips said it might be hard to get many of the stories out of him. Tori flipped through the remaining files, and stopped at the last one. "How'd we snag an NAIS grad with a fresh degree?" Popping the top on a can of cream soda, the battalion commander took a swig and then used the pointer finger on his holding hand to emphasize his subject. "I'm pretty sure Presidential Senator Le Roux might've had something to do with that. That's even rarer than you think it is." Another swig. "Heck, even Kate's excited about getting him on board. The boy minored in BattleMech engineering. There's no telling how many credits that took." "Anywhere from twelve to forty, depending on the school. I bet the NAIS is closer to the latter," Wolffe said, matter-of-factly. A grin took hold of Morinaka's face. "I knew you'd be a good fit for this job. Remembering little stuff like that will come in handy. Now, I won't keep you any longer. Take that with you, study it, and write me up your thoughts before tomorrow evening." Tori started to speak, but her commanding officer stopped her. "I want it in writing for future comparison. If we're going to grow the battalion, we have to make sure we're good at fitting people to our needs, even after being vetted by the administrative staff." Wolffe closed her mouth, then let the corners of her lips turn up. Standing, she saluted, then turned and walked out of the room. Standing to return the salute and then resuming his seat, Morinaka tapped on his desk. Even though it would be days before he'd lay eyes on many of these people, in his mind the Skondia Garrison was already whole again, and ready to war. WORD COUNT 2072 Major Fujita Morinaka Victor Assault-Class BattleMech Skondia GARRISON TN Like This Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino Posted Image Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #45 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #45] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points Posted 22 August 2016 - 12:24 PM DC-RD-06-02 #45 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Craven Plateau Overlord-Class Drop Ship Driving Empire Deck Seven ‘Mech Bay 19th March 3093 14:00:00 Local With duffle in hand crimson red hair tied back in a lose pony tail, and her battle dress uniform worn one size to small. Corporal Victoria Dozer walked through the Mech Bay looking up at the BattleMechs in their bays just waiting to fight. She was very surprised at some of the old and new models of Mechs they had to fight with, but her assigned machine of war was setting in Bay 5. So as she walked to passed Bane, a Warhammer, then Great Wyrm and finally a King Hunchback. She stopped in front of Bay 5, dropping her duffle bag looking up at the massive machine with a look of major disappointment. She turned around to pick up her duffle to see a man and a woman heading her way. They walked up and introduced themselves with salutes. “I am Technician Donald Albritton; this is Staff Sergeant Cheryl Creed.” “Corporal Victoria Dozer reporting as order Staff Sergeant Creed." “Welcome to the Skondia Militia GIA BattleMech Company corporal, I am the XO of this detachment of Skondia Militia, you’ll meet our commander at 1600 hours. I see you have found your Mech; this Marauder IIC has seen some major action since it came to the unit. Your quarters are on deck 3, section F3, do you have any questions?” “Yes ma’am when will see some action?” “Corporal Dozer we’ll be seeing action soon enough, now Tech Albritton will be your tech and he will now get you setup with the Marauder IIC’s systems. I’ll take my leave, Albritton. Corporal Dozer after your done stow your gear and meet up with me in the mess at 1530 hours.” “Yes ma’am.” Victoria saluted Staff Sergeant Creed, and then followed Tech Albritton to the base of the Marauder IIC. Albritton offered her the ladder first, which she nodded with a seductive looking smile. They climbed the ladder to the cockpit hatch and Victoria climbed in taking a set in the command couch, as Albritton climbed in behind her, he took a tech pad out from his left leg pocket. He typed in a few commands as he pulled out an input wire that he plugged into the command console. “Okay ma’am lets get things started, enter in your command ID number.” “Sure thing and call me Vicki.” “Ma’am I can’t do that, regulations dictates that Mechwarriors and Techs are not to be on a first name bases.” “Albritton, . . . Donald in my old unit it was common practice and I’m going to keep that practice going.” “The computer will take you through the rest of the security protocols I have other duties I need to attend to so I’ll take my leave Corporal Dozer.” He unplug his pad putting it back in his left leg pocket. Climbing out of the cockpit and down the chain ladder, he quickly disappeared from her view. She was really getting tired of men feeling so uncomfortable around her. The big surprise was with the Clanner Seth, and she knew that her new commander wasn’t a trueborn, but like her a freebirth. She was reading his dossier, but was interrupted by the Marauder IIC’s computer voice asking for her security phrases. “In war, as in love, we must come into contact before we can triumph! The fox’s cunning avails him little when the tigress unsheathes her claws!” The computer stated that everything has been done. She glanced at her chronometer. It was 14 hundred 30 hours. She thought to herself about her twins, John and Catherine remembering the words she had told them; ‘Follow your heart and your soul will lead you to your path’. Those were words that her grandmother had told her on her death bed. She came back to reality as she climbed down the chain ladder. She walked over grabbing her duffle, checking her chronometer once again. She had forty-five minutes left till she met up with the staff sergeant. So she got the directions to her quarters off her PDA and followed them to her quarters, then onto the meeting. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Craven Plateau Overlord-Class Drop Ship Driving Empire Deck Four Mess Hall 1530 Hours Local Staff Sergeant Cheryl Creed sat with Senior Corporal Donald Phipps eating a late lunch, as Victoria walked up saluting. They both stood up saluting and offered her a seat at their table. “Corporal Dozer, right on time. I like that. This is Senior Corporal Donald Phipps; he pilots the Great Wyrm you saw. Grab yourself a bite to eat before you meet the Major; I suggest you do since I don’t know when we’ll eat again.” “O…ka…y!” Victoria got up and walked over grabbing a plate for herself then walked past them finding an empty table. Taking a couple of bites getting lost in her thoughts about past evens in her life, mainly thinking about her husband. She missed him so much they didn’t really get a chance to spend their lives together. She just laughed under her breath as a tear ran down her cheek, taking a bite of mash potatos. Taking the napkin to wipe away the tears she finished what she could, getting up as Staff Sergeant Creed came over. “You okay Corporal?” “I’m fine ma’am, just thinking about the past.” “I suggest you don’t worry about the past, because you need to worry about the future. In our line of work, we never know when it will be are last. Anyways, we have a meeting with the Major. Shall we?” “Yes ma’am we shall.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Craven Plateau Overlord-Class Drop Ship Driving Empire Deck Seven ‘Mech Bay 1600 Hours Local Victoria and Cheryl walked through the massive doors of the Mech Bay walking past the Mechs of a Light Lance, where it look like there was a briefing of the whole lance going on. Cheryl informed her that the Skondia Militia Light Lance was the newest force of Mech in the Skondia Militia GIA BattleMech Company. Victoria grabbed her arm, and looked at her with a very surprise look. “Staff Sergeant, ma’am, we are mercenaries correct?” “Yes Corporal, I will let Major Maaka explain. Major Rokuhara Maaka, Corporal Victoria Dozer.” Rokuhara was talking with his tech when the women walked up and his XO introduced the new recruit. He turned and saluted the women, who returned the motion as Cheryl excused herself leaving the Corporal and Rokuhara to talk. He stepped back to measure up the corporal, taking in her 5’10 height, the crimson red hair, and her jade green eyes looking right into his blue eyes. She smiled a grin into those blue green eyes that looked like trouble, so he had to set the record straight. He had to do it before with Sergeant Courtney, when he became her commanding officer. He wasn’t going to let interfere in his duties. “Corporal Dozer, you’d better wipe that smile of your face when you in my presences. You are a very attractive woman, but I will not involve myself with my subordinates on a personal level. Is that clear?” “Yes sir, Crystal Major.” “Good, now you have been setup for the Marauder IIC, and will be running support for Phipps and Creed, as they provide long range support for Courtney and myself, will there be any problems filling this role Corporal?” “Sir, I will perform my duties that I’m order to do. Permission to speak freely Major?” “Permission denied. I suggested you get yourself and the Marauder IIC ready we have briefing with our Allied Tai-sa. Dismissed Corporal Dozer.” They saluted and Victoria took her leave heading for her Mech, thinking to herself this assignment was going to be one of the harder ones. Rokuhara watched as she left. Thinking, if she is as good as her dossier says she is, he would see how she handles the 100 ton Marauder IIC. From what he had seen from Razan’s Ronins’ Intel on the next operation, everyone will need to be at their best, including him as a commander. Looking up at his Stone Rhino he could sense it wanting to be released, to rain destruction on who ever was in its gun sights. His technician had said that it look like the old mobsters of 1920s on ancient Terra. He said that it looked like its extended range Small Laser was a cigar, and after looking it up in the database, just to please his curiosity, he had to agree. “Onto business,” he said as he climbed the chain ladder to the Stone Rhino. WORD COUNT: 1,481 Victoria Dozer Command Lance Skondia Militia GIA BattleMech Company Skondia Militia Living Dragon Flight Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS #46 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #46] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 23 August 2016 - 03:49 PM DC-RD-06-02 #46 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Free Skondia Mutineers Staging Coven 20th March 3093 11:35:00 Local "Yes, Dimitri," Hugh Bud said, nodding as he talked on the vidphone. "The delivery has been made on time, by the procurement branch. The shipment will arrive on the Glorious Fate no later than March 30th. We had trouble finding sufficient stock, but at the last moment we found a significant amount and not only have fulfilled the first order but have stock left over to start the second. Yes. Yes, we will ensure that the cargo arrives in good condition. I assure you, Dimitri." Hugh had been a member of the Free Skondia Mutineer since the outbreak of the 5th Succession War. A member of the Free Skondia Mutineers, he had fought the FedRats and the Snakes, the Infidels and the Razan’s Ronins Battle Armored Squads. He had been one of five potential drivers for the attack on the Garrison’s barracks but at the last minute his best friend, Richard Bach, had been chosen for martyrdom instead. Over the years he had waned in his faith in his belief of Free Skondia Mutineers and these days he was just happy to awake each morning alive. Martyrdom was for the young. But a job was a job and failure in this one would mean martyrdom for sure. Bud looked up at Barnard Mohegan and shook his head. "Halal is unhappy that it took so long to round up the full cargo and he already wants more. In good condition." "That means we cannot rape these Skondia bitches," Kevin Nelthrew said, angrily. Kevin was a Corporal among the Division and full of the ‘wisdom’ of Free Skondia Mutineers and the chance for martyrdom. A student from the Emirate of Tyrrhenia, majoring in business, his family was fiercely anti-Government and he had been raised to believe that death in the fight against House Kurita was the highest of callings. But he was young and the woman on the floor was pretty. Like all the Platinum City whores she went around not much more clothed than what she was now. All such whores deserved to be violated. "Are either of them virgin?" Bud said, grinning at the woman on the floor. "The one who is packaged was not," Barnard said, settling into the open door of the van, then gesturing at the blonde. "These are all whores, are they not? None of them have been virgins." "He said in good condition," Bud replied, pulling a pistol out of his waistband, and walking over to the blonde. "He didn't say unraped. I think we'll rape this one. If she is in bad condition when we are done, we'll send her soul to Satan and find another." "In the name of Gregoriy Kamarov," Nelthrew said, reaching down to grab the woman's hair and twist it. "It is as Mikhail Chigorin wills. Women taken in battle are allowed to be raped and these women are taken in the Great War against the Inner Sphere. Let us rape them to the council of Chigorin." As Gunsho Kevin ‘Katana’ Hsu stepped to the side, he heard males speaking, in what he was pretty sure was Armenian and then a muffled scream from the woman. He stepped around the coffin, at present, and targeted a male holding the hair of the woman. Three rounds to the chest put the target down, the silenced 9mm rounds punching into his chest cavity and blasting blood and bone out to cover the cowering woman. Hugh Bud had been fighting one group or another most of his adult life and had the scars to prove it. But it was a long time since he had had to fight for his life and the attack was unexpected. As Nelthrew's chest erupted in blood, he turned towards the faint "thocks" from the silenced submachine gun, raising his pistol as quickly as he could. In his haste, he actually triggered a round into the floor and he prayed to the Apostle that it would disturb this djinn who had appeared long enough for he, Hugh Bud, Apostle's servant for most of his life, to live. Kevin shifted to a male holding a pistol in his hand. The male was rotating to the side to fire and actually triggered a round into the ground in his haste. Kevin ignored it and serviced the target with a burst, then shifted to the group by the van. Barnard Mohegan grabbed his AK and rolled into the body of the van for cover. If this was a Platinum City police assault team they would soon find that those who did not fear death were dangerous to battle! The Apostle would be with them in this battle! The one that had been sitting in the doorway was gone, presumably into the cargo area; the other three had reached for weapons that were scattered on the ground. One was raising an AK variant assault rifle and was serviced as was a second reaching for another AK. At that point, an automatic part of Hsu’s brain told him to cover and reload so he pulled back behind the coffins, ejected his magazine down the front of his shirt, and slapped in another. He wasn't standing still while he did it, but moving counterclockwise behind the cover of the coffins, looking for another shot. Pierre Troas was amazed. He had gotten but one brief view of the assailant and it was not the heavily armored TAC team they had expected. Indeed, there appeared to be but one oriental man who had already killed many of his brothers in Free Skondia Mutineers. It was infuriating "There's only one of them!" he shouted. "We can trap him! Come around the coffins; he is hiding in there!" There was shouting from the coffins behind him and he ducked into a space between two stacks, waiting a moment. After shouting the person was trying to move stealthily but it was nearly impossible in this echoing room. Kevin followed the cautious movement and then took a coin from his pocket and tossed it over the coffins beyond his present position. The metal coin made a loud bong as it hit, too loud really, but the target sped up, actually passing his position in a quiet trot. Kevin waited a moment and then leaned out . . . There was a metallic sound, like a magazine being dropped accidentally, well down the south wall, and Pierre sped up, closing on his quarry. The Apostle was with him and he smiled. "Free Skondia Mutineers sera fait!" he shouted as he spun around the corner and emptied his magazine into the space where the sound had occurred. But there was nothing there and as he realized that, over the ringing in his ears from the firing, he heard a faint sound behind him. . . . Kevin wanted to laugh at the actions of the target but, instead, as the tango turned to check behind him he fired a three-round burst into the "sniper triangle" of the head and upper body, where there were numerous critical blood vessels, then began moving again, heading clockwise to his previous firing position. Grégoire Babineaux nodded as he heard the shout from Pierre. There had been no flood of police into the warehouse, which meant it was likely to be only one Kuritan, thinking he was SWAT and trying to save the Satan's whores. Well, the mission was probably a failure, they would have to pick up and move elsewhere at the very least. But the purpose of the Free Skondia Mutineer was to spread fear amongst the infidels of the Inner Sphere and killing the bitch would do that well enough. So he darted out of the cover of the coffins towards the bitch on the floor. Let the Kuritan continue to battle, but even if he was victorious it would be as ashes in his mouth. He had just reached her when he heard the squeak of a tennis shoe from among the coffins and looked up into the barrel of a submachine gun. . . . When he reached his firing position he saw one of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent’s preparing to terminate the hostage and he put two bursts into the man's chest, the blood flying out onto the already blood-soaked woman screaming into her gag. Since there was a significant threat to the hostage, Kevin decided to go for a thunder run and see what he could get directed at himself. He moved to a different opening and then darted into the space in the middle of the room. Barnard Mohegan had considered killing the whore on the floor but even if they moved she could still be smuggled off of the planet. So he continued to wait in the concealment of the van, knowing that sooner or later their antagonist would have to come into view. Suddenly a man in jeans and a shirt darted into the open area, moving fast. Barnard had been waiting for that and opened up the back door of the van, dropping to the ground in a crouch and placing his AK against his hip, firing off the clip in long burst at the running figure. As the door opened on the van to his left Kevin turned, then rolled on his right shoulder, coming up in a kneeling position and targeting the Tango as 7.62mm bullets cracked the air around him. Barnard Mohegan felt the 9mm rounds thudding into him as so many punches to the chest and stumbled to his knees. He tried to lift the rifle again but it was far too heavy. He tried to mumble a prayer to the Apostle, but his lungs were full of liquid and he couldn't get a breath. His vision darkened and all he could feel was fury at this one djinn oriental man who seemed to be invincible. The Apostle Kevin didn't even ensure the target was down, just sprung to his feet and sprinted across the area, bullets cracking around him, to dive behind the desk, reloading as he ran. Jacques Fournier looked at his friend Gérard Lefevre in fear. Both were students from the Poseidon Islands at Grant Town University. They had met at a student rally in support of the anti-Government cause and had been recruited as warriors for Free Skondia Mutineers that same day. At the time it had seemed a great cause and they had shouted with the others that they were willing to die for Free Skondia Mutineers. However, now that they faced death, had seen the blood from their fellow warriors staining the floor, knew that death came for them on squeaking feet, all they could do was crouch behind the desk and hope that it would pass them by. . . . As he cleared the top of the desk in a one-handed lift, he discovered to his annoyance two of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents crouching down behind it and not even looking for him. They were as surprised as he was, and far, far slower. In a second and a half, two more warriors of Free Skondia Mutineers had been sent to have a conversation with their ‘Sainted Apostle’. He suspected that it was not going to be a good one. His position, however, was very exposed and he lifted himself up again, sprinting forward. There was an open gap in view and he headed for it like a goal line, ricochets whining off the floor around him. Suddenly most of the shooting stopped and he heard a lot of reloading which caused him to grin even in the middle of the mess he'd started. Insurgents, even trained Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents, used the "spray and pray" technique of combat. Point the gun in the general direction of the enemy, generally held somewhere near the hip, close your eyes, pull the trigger and hope that you hit something. It wasn't just Free Skondia Mutineers, everyone in the Chaos March region except the Phalanx Battle Armor tended to use "spray and pray." Which was why, besides battle armor and superior training, militaries, including the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army, didn't tend to take many casualties from rifle fire while, at the same time, racking up kills by direct fire. True militaries could, and would, target their shooting. Armenians didn't. And, at the moment, it was saving his life. He just hoped like hell they wouldn't accidentally, or intentionally, shoot the hostage. He paused in the gap and counted on his fingers. Started with nine and the two sentries. Sentries down. One with a gun, one holding the hair. One in the back. One in the van. Two behind the desk. Three to go? No. Two. One trying to kill the hostage makes seven. Sébastien Depaul was one of the imported Insurgents, another member of the FSM Faction. He had not fought as broadly or fiercely as Hugh Bud, but he was an experienced street fighter and thought that surely he could kill one God-damned Kuritan. But twice he had seen the infidel djinn cross the open area in the middle of the room and twice tried to shoot him, emptying two full magazines in his anger to no avail. Now he decided that there was a better way. The infidel feared death and always negotiated for hostages. He reloaded again and left his cover, running into the open area and grabbing the blood-covered bitch by her hair to lift her from the floor. She screamed at the pain but he felt nothing but joy at the sound. Soon the Kuritan would be dead and he would give her far more pain. . . . "Kuritan! We will negotiate now!" Kevin peeked into the open area and shook his head at the sight. A teenage Insurgent was holding the blonde by the hair, an AK pointed in the general direction of, well, the floor. Not at her. He shook his head, targeted the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents, who was looking in the wrong direction, and put three rounds through his head. The blonde was in bad shape, covered in blood and apparently choking. He had a choice of helping her or taking down the last tango. Helping her meant exposing himself, and the hostage, to hostile fire. But . . . choking could kill just as sure as a bullet. The gag was a cloth band with, apparently, cloth in the mouth. He looked at it and clicked out his locking-blade knife. Taking it in his right hand he ran to the woman, slid the razor edge under the gag and cut it off. He hadn't taken any fire so but he ghosted over between the coffins again. Silence. The last target, if he was counting right, seemed to be playing the waiting game. Okay, time to see how stealthy "Shadows" could be. He started to move along the wall, heel rolling to side of the foot and then to the ball, one slow step at a time, checking the gaps between the boxes and occasionally getting a glimpse of the now crying, and still choking a bit, blonde. She at least was keeping quiet and down, other than the crying. She'd probably puked at all the blood and been choking on that, and that sort of choke could take your voice away pretty quick. Whatever the reason, he appreciated her not yelling for help or whatever. It would be distracting. He smelled him before he saw him, the distinct smell of urine with a hint of feces. There was a fair bit of both in the room, the offal and sulfur smell of battle. But this was close and sharp. As he got closer he could hear the breathing, fast, high panting. Sworn to die or not, this was one Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent who was scared as hell. Tristan Moreau was an agronomy student who had been born in the Southern Polar Island mountains where his father was a minor dignitary. He had been raised to do battle, showing no fear, a warrior for Free Skondia Mutineers. But while he had sometimes fired his weapon at other Skondia indigs, and even participated in one of the numerous kidnappings of foreigners in that land, he had never truly faced death. And he found that his belief in the Apostle was not as strong as he'd thought. All he could think was that this one ‘chink’ had killed, as far as he could tell, all of the other cell members, even Hugh Bud and Barnard Mohegan, who were well known warriors of Free Skondia Mutineers. He seemed to not be human, but some desert formed satan, an evil demon. Tristan tried to lift himself from his hiding place, to rise up and charge forth, screaming for the Federal Council as he should. But his knees would not support him and he realized that he had shit his pants. He could only crouch in his hole, shaking and crying faintly and wishing that he had never left his father’s house, had never agreed to join the war, had stayed in his dorm instead of going to that God-Be-Damned rally. The hell with the unbelievers, anyway, they were filth unto the Apostle. . . . Kevin peeked around the coffins and tried not to laugh. The tango was huddled by the coffins, AK gripped with white knuckles, shaking like a leaf, looking towards the open area. Kevin leaned forward and gently but firmly pressed the warm barrel of the sub-gun into the back of the subject's head. WORD COUNT 2974 ................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #47 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #47] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 23 August 2016 - 04:07 PM DC-RD-06-02 #47 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Free Skondia Mutineers Staging Coven 20th March 3093 11:50:00 Local "Lie on the ground with your hands behind your head," the Logistics Ops expert said in his very best Armenian. The target froze for a second, then the AK slid into the open area and he flattened himself to the ground, legs spread and hands on the back of his head, fingers interlaced. "Clearly you've been watching way too much CSNN," Gunsho Kevin Hsu said, trying not to chuckle. He grabbed the tango by the back of his collar and yanked him to his feet, pushing him into the open area with the barrel of the MP-20. "Oh, God. Oh, God!" The blonde had slid as far away from the bodies as her bonds permitted her and now was bent in a fetal position. But she'd looked up at the steps and now her eyes were wide. "Oh, thank you!" "You're welcome," Kevin said, kneeing the Insurgent into a kneeling position, then lowering him back face down on the floor. "Who are you?" the woman managed to gasp between coughs. "No one of consequence," Kevin said, then barked a laugh. "God, I always wanted to use that line. Do me a favor, and be quiet for a second, okay, honey? I need to talk to this young gentleman." There was a pile of tie-ties, plastic handcuffs derived from cable ties, on the table and Kevin used two of them to secure the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent. "Is there any way you could let me go?" the woman asked as he rolled the Insurgent over. "Not at the moment, I'm in a hurry," Kevin said, sliding the barrel of the MP-20 down to point at the tango's balls. "You speak Japanese?" "Hai!" the kid said, quickly. "I am speaking good Japanese! I am student!" "Great," Kevin said, sliding the barrel down to the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent's knee. "Now, here's the deal. The first time I think you're lying to me, I'm going to shoot you in the knee. Now, that really hurts and you'll be permanently crippled. So try very hard not to lie to me. Okay? I'm basically a very bad man and I'd like to hurt you. A lot. But, I'm also an honorable one and if you don't lie to me, if you give me good answers, I won't shoot you. Okay?" "Okay," the tango said, desperately. "Where did they take the women?" Kevin asked, mildly. "I do not know!" the boy said. "All I know is an airport." "Hmmm . . ." Kevin murmured then fired a round through the kid's leg. "Don't believe you." He waited until the screaming, from both the tango and his erstwhile rapee, died down then pointed the barrel at the other leg. "Care to go for two?" "I don't know!" the kid screamed. "They not tell us, tell us not to ask! Maybe is in papers. Hugh is handling papers! A file, on the desk!" "Hmmm . . ." Kevin said, going over to the desk. "What's your name, Blondie?" "Mildred Carson," the woman said, whimpering. "Oh, please tell me you're not going to hurt me!" "Hell, no," Kevin snorted, searching through the papers. "I'm one of the good guys. Sort of. I'd like to, mind you. Girls all tied up and covered in blood are a real turn-on." "What . . . who are you?" Mildred asked, desperately. "What the hell are you?" "Nobody you want to remember," Kevin replied, picking what looked like a bill of lading out of the pile. "Look, the police are going to be on this like flies on shit. I'd really appreciate it, as the guy who just saved your miserable throw back cheerleader ass, if you'd tell them you have no clue who I am. I'm a short, tall, fat, thin, blonde brunet with greenish brown eyes. Got it?" "You're not with the police?" the woman said, totally confused. "Oh, come on," Kevin scoffed. "I know you're an airhead, but use at least one brain cell. Do the police commonly shoot people through the leg to get information?" "Well, they beat people up," Mildred said, with relentlessly liberal logic. "Did those guys beat you?" Kevin asked, gesturing at the dead Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents. "Yes," Mildred said, sobbing gently. "Would you like me to shoot you through the knee so you can tell the difference?" Kevin asked, puzzling over the load list. "NO!" "Then, trust me, police don't kneecap people for information. It's really obvious. It looks like they were taking them to the Platinum City SpacePort," Kevin said, dropping the manifest. "Okay, I'm going to cut part of the way through your bonds," he continued, pulling his knife back out. "As soon as you work yourself free, call 911 and report all of this. When they get here, remember . . ." "Short, fat, thin, tall, blondish brunette?" Mildred said, nodding. "Got it. What about him?" she asked, gesturing with her chin at the gently sobbing and moaning Tango. "What about him?" Kevin asked, pulling her upright and applying his knife to the tough plastic. "If he bleeds out or dies of shock, it's no skin off my nose. Let me ask you, do you really care?" "No," Mildred admitted after a moment's thought. "Congratulations," Kevin said, changing his mind and cutting the bonds on her hands completely free. "You're half way to conservative already. Remember, Vote Cliff." "I'm not that far," Mildred said, smiling faintly. "Why'd you cut me free?" "Give me ten minutes," Kevin said. "After I'm gone. Then call. And tell them Platinum City SpacePort." "You're going to get in trouble for this, aren't you?" "It is not inside my normal mission parameters," Kevin admitted without really lying. Let her suggest to the police that he was some sort of spook. "Yeah, if they figure out who it was, I'll be looking at, well, murder one, torture, you name it. They'll probably throw the book at me. So . . . be uncooperative, okay? Just tell them you want to talk to an attorney or, barring that, the news media." "What's your name, please?" Mildred said, leaning forward to drift a kiss across his cheek as he worked on her ankles. "Look, killing makes me really horny," Kevin said, tightly. "So do tied up half-naked, damned good-looking blondes. And if you really must know, it's the Dread Pirate Roberts." "What?" Mildred said, pulling her ankles up to her as soon as they were free and rubbing at the marks from the strips. "Haven't you ever seen The Princess Bride?" Kevin asked, aghast. "No?" "Good Lord, woman." He stood up, shaking his head, and headed for the door. "Rent it. You owe me." "I will," Mildred said. "Ten minutes," Kevin said, then paused. "Crap." "What now?" Mildred said, looking around wildly. "Well, two things," Kevin admitted. "No wheels and I need to check on the other woman." The coffin had not been hit and the woman, who was apparently drugged, was fine. Kevin checked her pulse and had to really restrain himself from copping a feel. It wasn't like anyone would know. Then he looked at his hands, which were covered in cordite residue and blood, and shook his head. Okay, so they'd know. He was already looking at murder one. No, down. He left the top propped up and searched the pockets of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent who seemed to be the boss on the basis that he'd be the most likely to have his own vehicle. Sure enough, he turned up a set of keys, with an electronic opener, for a Mao-heng. He hunted around and found a couple more MP-20 mags and came back to find Mildred collapsed into the station chair that had been rolled away from the desk. It had a couple of bullet holes in it but she didn't seem to mind. "You okay?" he said. "Now you ask?" she replied. She'd been crying again, but she tried to smile. "Yeah, now I ask," Kevin admitted. "I'm coming off mission-high. You okay?" "I will be," Mildred said. "I don't want to wait here alone for the police." "Five minutes," Kevin said, noticing for the first time that she had a really distinct cleft in her chin. It just made her cuter than before and he had to force down a wave of lust that was truly overpowering. On a whim he decided to take the satellite phone; there was a land-line she could use. Satellite phones couldn't call 911 anyway, and if she tried she'd get really confused. "At least. I can't stay, you know that?" "Yeah," she sighed. "I really want to know who you are." "Well," he said, grinning, "if you ever see me again, for the first time, be overwhelmed by a wave of lust and need to give me a blowjob right then and there, even if it's in public. Okay?" "Sure," Mildred said, shaking her head. "Men. Maybe not in public, but we'll talk, okay? This has . . ." "Don't let this put you off of men, God damnit," Kevin said, firmly. "I didn't risk my frigging life to have you go lesbo. All men aren't these filth. And if you decide they are, you're spitting on what I did. Because the good guys want to get laid, too. Understand?" "Understand," Mildred said, nervously. "Christ, you sound like my dad." "Oh, that's really what I needed to hear!" Kevin said, spinning away. "Five minutes. Minimum!" "I don't have a watch," Mildred said as he disappeared behind the coffins. "Plenty of them on the bodies." WORD COUNT 1655 ................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #48 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #48] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 23 August 2016 - 05:06 PM DC-RD-06-02 #48 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Skondia Platinum City Spaceport Commercial Area 20th March 3093 11:55:00 Local The keys turned out to be for a dark green Charioteer and Gunsho Kevin Hsu pulled out of the parking lot quickly, stopping only long enough to grab his jump bag where he'd left it. He thought about evidence he'd left behind. Probably enough to ID him. Fingerprints on the back of the van, if they dusted that. Yeah, they would; he'd left footprints on the bumper for sure. And not even Platinum City PD was going to miss those. He'd kept all his magazines, expended and unexpended, but there were sure to be prints somewhere. On the coffin, too, come to think of it. Damnit, he wasn't a natural criminal type. Well, might as well hung for a sheep as a lamb, he wanted to find the container vehicle and make sure he'd read the documents right. To get to SpacePort from there the quickest way was to get on the 10 loop and take it to 316. That led to I-85 and a couple of ways to get to the SpacePort. He'd never been to the cargo side of the SpacePort but he wanted to eyeball the damned thing. He took the bypass fast, pushing the Charioteer up to nearly a hundred and weaving in and out of traffic. He was going so fast that he nearly missed the exit for 316 but caught it just in time, the vehicle swaying perilously as he decelerated for the cloverleaf spiral. He'd decided that if he spotted the vehicle he was going to do something to attract police attention. Ever since the first nuclear incident, aircraft had been heavily controlled. But if the aircraft was controlled by Free Skondia Mutineers, as it probably was, if it got off the ground it was a flying bomb filled with hostages. Better to make sure the truck got stopped before much more could be done to them. Hsu was headed down 316, fighting the light traffic and, more importantly, the traffic lights, when he passed the turn for Skondia SpacePort. He was concentrating on the road ahead of him but out of the corner of his eye, as he blew through the red light, he caught a glimpse of truck lights up the slope to the SpacePort. A fast head check and he cursed luridly. "Okay, did the bastards lay a red herring?" he muttered to himself as he pushed the vehicle up to speed, looking for somewhere to do a U-turn. "Or did I read the damned things wrong?" He was sure the truck he'd seen was the same cargo container. It had the logo and in the brief glance he'd gotten he'd thought he saw the bent part in the door. There was an opening in the median and he pushed the sedan into a tight turn, cutting off a truck that nearly went into the median with a blast of horn, and heading back to the SpacePort. There was a sign for Commercial cargo, which he hadn't even realized went in and out of the Skondia Spaceport, and he followed it. However, as he passed around the end of the runway he could see a guard post. He wanted to call the police, wanted to report what was going on and direct the proper guys to the right place. But he also still hoped he could avoid arrest and blowing his cover. He could probably walk, even on torturing the kiddie tango. But ‘probably’ versus twenty years, maybe life, maybe even death for violating the Ares Convention . . . that ‘probably’ was looking mighty thin. He took a Y corner to the right and continued past the guard post, headed for an apparent circuit of the SpacePort. He could see the cargo container and this time he got a clear view of the back and the dent. It had stopped by an Aerodyne DropShip and was already unloading coffins onto a loader ‘Mech. "Muthaphukkahs," Andrew muttered. Once that DropShip got into the air, if anyone tried to catch it, it was going to be bad. Fifty dead hostages, by his quick estimate. Maybe an incident all over again. Terrorists weren't supposed to be able to get control of DropShips coming into commercial SpacePorts. And he hadn’t commitment to memory any of the Razan’s Ronins emergency phone numbers that he could use with a satellite phone. They had always been programmed into his. He could almost hear how the conversation would play ou . . . "Hello, operator? I'm trying to find the emergency number for the Razan’s Ronins Battalion, Logistics Lance CO. No, the Battlaion, not the holo-vid station. No, the Razan’s Ronins, not the cemetary . . ." No. He was in a portion of the circle road that was partially screened so he cut the motor and he pulled to the side using the parking brake. He put the satellite phone in his jump bag and did a quick mental check of the contents. Besides some notebooks, his noteputer and the like, it had an eclectic selection of material. Bottle of water, two power bars, toiletry items, a small thermal survival blanket, small flashlight and a change of underwear and T-shirt. He opened the door, slipping a toothpick into the stud to keep the interior lights from coming on, and dropped out of the vehicle to the ground, closing the door quietly. He knew what he was planning and he didn't like it. But he couldn't contact SpacePort Security in time to keep the DropShip from taking off and once it was out of Skondia’s atmosphere, tracking it would be problematic. It wouldn't be headed for anywhere on the Steen continent, that was pretty certain, so it would have to go to one of the orbital stations. And it was likely that anywhere it refueled, it could get its tail number and transponder changed. It was pointed basically towards him with most of the activity taking place at the back. There were no lights on in the cockpit so the pilots wouldn't be looking in his direction. There was a perimeter fence, but that was no problem. The guards might see him, the tangos might see him. Either would probably keep the DropShip on the ground, good, but also put him at mortal risk, bad. But if he could figure out where they were going, he could vector in a rescue op. He paused just a moment to think about that one as he crawled to the fence. He had trained for rescue ops, and had actually done one. However, in his training, he'd never once done one clean. No matter what, the hostages always ended up shot to shit. That’s why he was Logistics and not DEST. It was one of the team mantras: "It sucks to be a hostage." But that was probably how it had to go down. If SpacePort Security reacted right now, the DropShip could probably force its way off the ground. Security didn't think in terms of "it must not take off." And even if they blocked it, the pilots were probably aware that it was a potential ‘martyrdom operation’ and they'd slam the DropShip, somehow, and kill the hostages. Follow, recon, lead in support. If he could call 911 direct, he would. But as it was, there just wasn't time for anything . . . DAMN IT!. He simply recorded the tail number on the rear of the DropShip. WORD COUNT 1301 ................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #49 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #49] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points Posted 24 August 2016 - 02:47 PM DC-RD-06-02 #49 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Skondia Platinum City Free Skondia Mutineers Recruitment Coven 20th March 3093 13:20:00 Local "Holy shit." Special Agent in Charge (SAIC), Barry Conway, had seen his share of murder scenes. The Steen Bureau of Investigations didn't have murder as one of its jurisdictions, but they got called in on special cases. And this case had "special" written all over it. "What do we have so far?" he asked the detective from Platinum City PD. "We've got two witnesses," Detective Sergeant Jason Nix replied with a shrug. "The female victim, Mildred Carson, is being remarkably uncooperative. Her description of the perp keeps shifting around and she's not sure she really saw him shoot anyone, including the torture victim." "That's because she's protecting him," Conway replied. "Wouldn't you?" "I'm not particularly happy with the unknown perpetrator," Nix admitted. "I've got ten dead bodies on my hands, one torture victim and two females who had been kidnapped, one of them drugged, the other one beaten and molested. I want to know what his connection is to all of this." "His connection appears to be that he killed most of the terrorists that were involved." Conway sighed. He liked bank jobs. Tracking down a bank robber was straightforward ABI work. Domestic terrorism, that was okay. You got somebody on the inside, got your intel and rolled them up. Off-World terrorism ops got really complicated really quick. The Patriot Act had helped, at least he wouldn't have to jump through hoops figuring out which particular action was simply illegal, kidnapping for example, and which was terrorism . . . The way things used to be structured, it was like he had to have two separate brains that were not permitted to link the national security information with the criminal information. If for no other reason, he was a big fan of the Patriot Act. It also meant he could say . . . "We've got jurisdiction over the case from here. We've got terrorism and kidnapping with transit, possibly off world." "The woman said, the perp said, that they were going to Skondia SpacePort," the detective replied. "It's the one thing she's clear about." "And did you put out that alert?" Conway said, quietly. "Not yet," the detective said. "We're waiting for some corroboration." "Do it," the ABI SAIC said, bluntly. "Do it now. Before the damned plane or DropShip gets in the air." "Okay, if you say so," Nix said with a shrug. "But, again, I want to know how this guy knew. I think he was working with them and they had a falling out. That fits the situation better than an unknown superhero rescuing the damsel. That shit doesn't happen." "There you have a point," Conway admitted. "This looks more like . . . well," Nix stopped and shrugged. "This looks like a really violent bad drug deal to me. I think he was getting shafted by them, maybe he was their lookout or something, and he decided that he could get away by offing all the witnesses." "Why keep the torture victim alive?" Conway asked. "Maybe he didn't know enough to bother?" Nix said, shrugging. "I'm going to go call in the all points on a cargo container heading for the Skondia SpacePort, possibly carrying hostages. You know how many cargo containers move through Skondia?" "I've actually got that number on my computer, somewhere," the SAIC admitted. "It's just part of the background of how lovely my job is since any one of them could be a truck bomb. Call it in, I want to talk to the victim." "The torture victim?" Nix asked. "No, the kidnap victim, the victim victim. The 'torture victim' is a friggin terrorist. Period. So he got shot in the leg. See me crying." He walked over to where the young lady was sitting in a chair, a frustrated police woman by her side with a noteputer open filled with obvious gibberish. "Hi," Barry said, smiling as pleasantly as he could. "Officer, could you give me a moment alone with the young lady?" "Not alone," the police woman said with a sniff. "That would be a violation of procedure." "Then stand across the damned room," Conway said coldly. "Among other things, we have jurisdiction now and your 'procedures' are my procedures." When the woman was gone he perched himself on the desk and shook his head. "You look, frankly, like you've been through hell." "Thank you, so much," Mildred responded, pulling the blanket around her more tightly. "I don't know anything about the guy who did the shooting. I didn't get a good look at him. Sort of short, sort of tall, medium build, maybe a little thin. Sort of . . ." "Spare me," Conway said with a chuckle. "I'm not after him. I could give a rat's ass about dead terrorists, miss. Tell me anything you can about what was going on. We've got missing hostages, women just like you. These days, the ABI tries really hard to stop this sort of thing and this time we screwed up. They got through. I want to know where the hostages are going, how, anything you can tell me." "There's probably a piece of paper on the desk," Mildred said cautiously. "That might have information. It was a container thing, a truck. Like they load on ships. But . . . somebody said it was going to Skondia SpacePort." "That somebody might have read that off of the paper or he might have heard it after shooting the terrorist in the leg? Or is that too blunt of a question." Mildred looked at him for a moment and then shook her head. "I don't know anything about that. Just that you should be looking at Skondia SpacePort." "Mildred, your name is Mildred, right?" "Yes." “Mildred, I swear to God I'm not looking for whoever shot up these . . . assholes," Conway said, waving around. "But I need hard information. Would you please tell me what happened to get the information so I can verify it and check it?” Mildred lowered her head and shook it, slowly. "I think I need to talk to a lawyer," she said, softly. "Or the news holovid-media." "Mildred, please," Conway said, getting off the desk and dropping to a knee. "I've got a time issue, here. The hostages are being moved. You say to the Skondia SpacePort. Fine, we're checking on that. But I need plate numbers, container numbers, a plane number if it's available. I want to make sure we're not missing something. Think about the other women, please. I won't use the information you give me against whoever saved you, if there was such a person, who might have been a short, tall, thinnish-fat man with a full head of receding hairline." Mildred looked up at that and faintly smiled, then shrugged. "Okay, the terrorist said the hostages were being transported to the DropPort," she said, getting up and walking to the desk. "But he didn't know which one." "You're sure?" Conway asked. "I'm really, really sure," Mildred replied. "And there's a paper, somewhere, on this desk that said Skondia SpacePort. It was some sort of form," she said, reaching for the papers. "Let me," Conway said, holding out his hand. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a set of rubber gloves. Then he glanced over the top papers and picked up a cargo manifest. "Says that they're being sent to the Skondia SpacePort," he said with a nod. "One problem." "What?" Mildred asked. "It's got so much bogus information, I can tell it's a fake a mile off. The weight of the vehicle is wrong, way too high, the container number is the wrong number of digits, the license plate doesn't match the standard parameters. It's a red herring." "Damn," the woman muttered. "I guess Mr. Wonderful didn't know it all, then, did he?" "Not that I know who you are talking about," Conway replied. He lifted some more of the scattered paperwork then pulled out the drawers. The top, center, drawer was locked but it opened to a screwdriver. He pulled out the file folder in the drawer and opened it, scanning the paperwork. Then he looked at his watch and grimaced. "What's wrong?" Mildred asked. "They left from Skondia SpacePort two hours ago," the agent replied. "Even if we could figure out what DropShip, quickly, they're going to be out of radar coverage. And five gets you ten, the listed destination for the DropShip is going to be bogus." "What's that mean?" Mildred said, worriedly. "It means they're gone." WORD COUNT 1455 ................. Mildred Carson Civilian RESISTANCE LEADER Edited by Iceman, 24 August 2016 - 02:50 PM. Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #50 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #50] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 24 August 2016 - 04:08 PM DC-RD-06-02 #50 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Skondia Platinum City Governor's Palace Situation Room 20th March 3093 14:15:00 Local "I just love returning from lunch to good news in the afternoon," Governor Saadiq said, leaning back in his chair and looking around the Situation Room. "What do we know, what don't we know and what do we suspect?" "We know that fifty hostages, male and female, from the Platinum City, Bangalore, area have been kidnapped and transported somewhere," the ABI director answered. "One of the persons who was involved in the operation has admitted to being in an Corporal in the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army. He says that it's a FSM Cell, but he's very low level and that information would be suspect without other items. One of the dead members is on the Free Skondia Mutineers watch list and has ties to the Phalanx Battle Armor Company. We suspect the subject females were loaded on a Buccaneer-Class DropShip at Platinum City SpacePort. The Buccaneer, tail number R2564F, had a listed destination of docking with the Rota, an Orbiting Thera-Class WarShip. We know that it is outside our atmosphere at this time and we do not have a lock on its transponder nor did we have a lock by the time the information came out. The hostages were transported in coffins. One of the two rescued females had already been loaded in one. She was connected to an IV that had a mild dose of Nilium in it, enough to keep her sedated for up to twenty hours. We suspect that the DropShip will not head for the Rota but for some other location. We suspect that it may have its tail number changed at that location or the hostages may be transloaded. We are tracking down the ownership of the DropShip as well as the background of the pilots. We have alerted the Draconis Combine’s Mixed Mercenary Battalion, Razan’s Ronins, and asked them to put their DropShips and AeroSpace Assets up to look for the DropShip." "What about the shooter?" the Minister of State Powers asked. "Do we know where he is or who he is?" "We have not, yet, identified the shooter," the ABI director admitted. "We're still lifting prints from the scene. The one witness, Mildred Carson, is being notably uncooperative. . . ." "She's protecting her rescuer," Dr. Minuet Kern, the national security Minister, pointed out. "Obviously," the ABI director said, dryly. "I don't blame her," Minnie said. "I'd do the same thing in her position." "Well, it's not helping the investigation," the ABI director said, bluntly. "We need to find this guy and ask him some questions. Notably, how he was aware of the operation." "I heard he went through the room like a buzz saw," Donald Brandeis said. The Minister of defense looked as if he'd had a full night's sleep, unlike the ABI director and the Governor, and he grinned at the image. "Just blew them away like they were cardboard cutouts." "The shooter appears to be highly trained," the ABI director said. "Possibly a member of a SWAT team or military." "Ten dead terrorists? All of them armed? One of him?" Brandeis grinned again. "That's not a SWAT team guy, that's a SEAL or a DEST Agent. Maybe Mercenary. There is a Razan’s Ronins base near there." "Whoever he is, we'll find him," the ABI director said. "Just like Eric Rudolf," Brandeis jibed. "Enough," the Governor said. "Sir?" Minuet said. "This person, whoever he is, has killed ten terrorists and broken up a major operation. If they find out who he is, he's a target." "Good point," the Governor said, nodding. "This case goes under global security restrictions as of now. No further investigation by local authorities, all investigation at TS Code Word level only. Understood?" "Understood," the ABI director said. "The news-vid media has already gotten wind of the shooting and that kidnapping was involved. What do we say?" "Just that," Edward Travali, the chief of staff, said. "There was a shooting involving Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents who had kidnapped one or more females from the Platinum City area. Talk to the victims and tell them that it's really important that, for the time being, they not say anything else." "Don't threaten them with Skondia Code," the Governor interjected. "Just try to reason with them. If your SAIC can't reason with them, have him call me and I'll tell them why they have to be quiet about this. We don't want the name of the shooter coming out." "And, in a way more important," Minuet pointed out, "we don't need them to know that we're trying to track the shipment. We don't even want them to know we're sure there is a shipment." "And find the DropShip," the Governor said, definitely. "Find the hostages. Where's the CIA director?" "The acting director is out of town," Minnie pointed out. "His deputy was called but he lives out in Reston; he's still on the way in." "Well, he's missed the meeting," the Governor said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Tell him to find those hostages. Call Razan’s Ronins, the CIA and every other acronym down to the Skondia DEA and tell them that their number one priority is to find those hostages. Don?" "Governor?" "We all know that they're probably based off of one of about five islands," the Governor said harshly. "I want plans dusted off for going into any of those five island territories, with anything it takes, to get them out alive. Send out some sort of warning order. I want jets warmed up, I want Delta up, I want DEST and the SEALs and Marines and Rangers and everybody down to the Cub Scouts ready. Understood?" "Understood, sir," the defense Minister said. "If it's Ampheres, Tyrrhenia or Gilbralter . . . well, it's not going to be easy, Governor." "I don't care about easy," the Governor said, his face hard. "I'm not going to go through one hundred and forty-four days of 'the hostage crisis' on my watch. Understood? We're getting them out or we're taking down the islands. We're not going to negotiate. Nobody does this to Skondia. I don't care if they're in Poseidon Islands. Nobody does this to Skondia twice. Not and lives to talk about it. If they're in Amphere, we're going to take the mullahs all the way out, once and for all. If they're in Tyrrhenia, Grégoire Fournier is going to be buried in an unmarked grave. If they're in the FSM camps I will bomb those camps to the ground to get them released and if one hair is harmed on their heads those Phalanx Battle Armor bastards are going to wish that Free Skondia Mutineers had never let them be brought into the world. Religion of peace my ass." ................. Ashton Saadiq Governor Skondia WORD COUNT 1174 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image ..............................................Posted Image Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #51 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #51] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points Posted 24 August 2016 - 06:13 PM DC-RD-06-02 #51 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Platinum City Garrison Hidden Base ‘Mech Repair Facilities 20th March 3093 14:20:00 Local "Death and dreck,” Major Fujita Morinaka fumed to himself as he strode through the crowds of technicians and laborers who scurried around trying to get the Skondia Garrison ‘Mech compliment ready to roll. “We haven’t even seen any action yet worth mentioning? What’s taking so long to get this together?” His long suffering friend Kobe strolled along beside Fujita and let the tirade wash over him with no more ill effect then a gentle spring rain. “It has only been two days since your return. The new pilots needed to have their rides programmed and fitted to them. Likewise, some of the older ‘Mechs, like your own, still need constant maintenance due to the hell you’ve put them through.” Fujita was not mollified however. “We need to be ready to go soon Kobe. Whatever we have to do, the Garrison launches by 1800 hours.” Silence settled between them for a moment as both men were lost in thought. It was a hasty plan, Fujita knew, but haste was born of desperation. Tai-sa Onishi Razan’s troops had found where the Free Skondia Mutineer were hiding their cache of nukes and those had to be destroyed or secured. That job had fallen to his own company. The others would have their hands full he knew in stopping other aspects of the enemies twisted plans and if he failed they would as likely as not, have to suffer with being the targets of those same weapons. “A hot drop just outside their complex? That is ambitious…..perhaps foolhardy. Isn’t there another way?” Fujita stopped in mid step and turned to regard his old friend. Looking around him for a moment he sighed heavily, and then replied in his horribly accented version of the Mandarin language. It wouldn’t do for everyone to know the grisly details. “No, there isn’t another way this time. If we aren’t in their laps then we are targets for their nukes once they know that we have found the storage point. As long as we are right on top of them they won’t be so likely to use them. I expect our ‘Mech force to get pounded for awhile holding the area while the rest of our Allies support force can be brought up for a final siege of the facility. We are going to burn a hell of a lot of fuel by multiple trips to ferry everything over.” “Can’t we borrow some drop ship support from either Razan’s Ronins or the Skondia Militia GIA's BattleMech Company?” “I’ll try but it’s doubtful. Most everyone is on the move. Between nukes and slavers and manufactured natural disasters Free Skondia Mutineers is keeping us busy on this one. Not to fear though, even if it’s only our drop ships involved we should be able to get all of the Garrison’s assets moved to the other island within four hours.” Again the silence descended as both of them thought of the immense logistics involved in moving a full company in such a piecemeal fashion. The ‘Mech lances would be exposed for hours before enough reinforcements could be on hand to support them. Fujita would have to lead them on an hours long, running battle, staying just close enough to the stronghold to not be convenient targets for the WMD’s. Once his full complement was on hand they would then settle in for a more conventional siege if they weren’t fortunate enough to breach the fortifications. “We’ll be ready Fujita,” was all Kobe could say as he turned to return to his work. Both of them had seen the force estimates on what would be on hand. Fujita, as likely as not, could take them by surprise with a sudden drop and probably inflict some heavy casualties. Maintaining that though through a long, involved battle, would be another matter. They would probably run short of ammunition before they could be resupplied. The fate of the pilots, not withstanding, Kobe knew that he would have a hell of a job putting the unit back together again after this. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac ‘Mech Storage Area 20th March 3093 14:25:00 Local MyKayla was sitting down on the tarmac beside her assault class Daboku. It was her new spot to go when she needed to get away from the everyday stresses of being a lance commander in the only Modern Warfare mercenary unit in the Draconis Combine’s arsenal. Of course the ‘Mechs were being guarded twenty-four hours a day, but no one bothered her when she came to be alone. She knew she only had a little time to transform her mind, body, and spirit into one, which helps her stay centered during their contracts and battles. As she sat next to her massive machine, she could not help but think about the new recruits, and her first time out as a new ‘Mechwarrior. The fear of the unknown was easily overridden by the determination to be apart, and to do your part. Yes, she remembers those days well, and she could only hope that all of the new recruits can come on in, and find their way as a Ronin. They had arrived back with the Razan’s Ronins resupply shipment a couple of days ago on the eighteenth. In due time, they will get the chance to demonstrate just what they have learned in training, and if she has anything to do with it, that due time will be sooner than later. Dragon Sword Lance was gaining to new ‘Mech pilots, veteran pilots to be exact. Go-chu Gerald Brand, the older one of the two, and Go-chu Orvald Kress. They herlded from the Rasalhague Republic and the Lyran Alliance, respectively, and received their training in-house. This in itself made MyKayla excited about having them joining Ronins Legion ‘Mech Company, and especially their Dragon Sword Lance. The last time they got some new warriors, she also got a headache named, Gunjin Bai Deshimaru, but the fact that he is destined to be an excellent ‘Mechwarrior helped her to see the good in him. The fear of the unknown took MyKayla back to her conversation with Chu-i Sroyadin Tang a few days ago. “Hey ‘Cha-Cha’, I have an opportunity in the making for you and Dragon Sword. How about participating in a surprised raid spearheaded by Dragon’s Claw, and backed by Dragon Sword?” “Ok, go ahead, I’m listening.” “Well, we know that several of those Industrial buildings have shown a high level of radioactive material on our sensors and monitors, specifically in their underground areas such as a basement. Furthermore, Intel reports have said that there is a ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent chance that there are some nukes being stored there as well as some Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents. I do not know how you feel about it, but the thought of being nuked is not how I plan on going out. We can get in there, kick some ass, and get on out. We can go over the particulars of how we will do it. So what do you say? Are you in?” “Hell yes, I’m in! I already have a few ideas on how we can set up our surprise entrance.” “Wonderful! We will have to first run it by Onishi when she gets in, but I am sure she will allow us to try since we have enough evidence to back up our hunch.” “ ‘Kayla, you do realize the danger of our said mission? If it does turn out to be hidden nukes in those buildings, our lives will still be in great danger.” “Uh, ‘Cha-Cha’, danger is a part of our lives everyday.” “Yes, I guess it is.” “Let us meet over evening chow, and we can further discuss the details, and ‘Cha-Cha’, we must keep this under wraps, agreed?” “Yes, definitely agreed.” MyKayla snapped out of her thoughts, and continued on with her relaxing when she heard some footsteps walking towards her. It was her Technician, Kal Nafe. “Hi Kal,” she greeted. “Hello Sho-ka MyKayla, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said as he saluted her. She returned his salute. “No, you’re not, please, at ease Gunsho.” “I was coming to double-check your Daboku’s head assembly to make sure that your full cockpit ejection system is working. I want you to be able to get out if you push that button.” The Sho-ka blushed before responding. Why thank you Kal, for all that you do in making sure my Daboku is operating safely and sufficiently, you are truly appreciated.” Being caught off guard caused him to blush as well. “Thank you Sho-ka MyKayla-san, the honor and pleasure is all mine.” “I am going to let you get to your work, and thank you once again Kal.” As she walked away, she got a glimpse of her Technician climbing her Daboku as if it were a tree. Word Count: 1549 Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS #52 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #52] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points Posted 28 August 2016 - 11:17 AM DC-RD-06-02 #52 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Platinum City Spaceport Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Union Class DropShip Black Ronin Deck Three Officer’s Country Kintaro’s Quarters 20th March 3093 02:30:00a Local "Noooooooo!" He shouts ". . . this can’t be true, they are all dead, how could this have happened." As he looks about the flat there are his DEST platoon, dead all of them, torn apart as if put in a meat grinder. Hanging from a door is Tamiko, her eyes wide open in disbelief, accusing him of not being there to save them. She had been tortured and finally died with her entrails hanging down from being disemboweled. He had been gone 45 minutes to check their drops and retrieve information from the surveillance equipment watching their target. How could this have happened in 45 minutes, HOW? How could someone take out an entire, highly trained, DEST platoon? He had let Tamiko get to close to him, in fact they planned on being married once the mission had concluded but that was now the past. Suddenly Kintaro sat up, soaked in sweat. He looked about his quarters frantically and finally decided it had all been a dream, once again. This dream had haunted his sleep for over two years now, even though he managed to track down the ones responsible and eliminate them, only to lead him to where he was now with Razan’s Ronins, trying to eliminate the Insurgents of the Free Skondia Mutineer. Soon they would take to the field once again in a life and death struggle with them and hopefully, once again, the Ronins would prevail, not only for themselves but for the people of Skondia. They have suffered much under the boot heel of Free Skondia Mutineers oppression. They were facing three battaMilitia of jump infantry and a company made up of Phalanx Battle Armor, the augmented battle armor of Free Skondia Mutineers. No one is sure if the human side or the inhumane side ruled their actions, but to him it maked no difference. They were a disease, a pestilence to be wiped out. They were all that was wrong with humankind in Kintaro's own mind. And he was willing to sacrifice everything to gain everything or nothing. The meeting that he was allowed to attend yesterday with the Sho-i and Tai-sa made little sense as he did not study land masses and formations and what effects them, but it appeared to him that Free Skondia Mutineers intended to end all life on Skondia, some how, and that is all he needed to know. He should have acted when he got the information that Mildred had been scooped up and tried to save her but he had other duties and responsibilities. He wasn't sure that the unit’s Chu-i Kimura would let him mount a rescue operation for a single person, even if they had been instrumental in them obtaining the information they now had. He wondered how she was faring under their control and if torture was used on her. They would pay for their transgression. As well, he decided as he got up, because he knew sleep ws out for the rest of the night. Changing into his exercise fatigues, he grabbed both swords and bag with equipment and decided to work out some. It had been a while since he had managed to squeeze in a good work out since arriving here. He rides the lift down, receives and gives the proper challenge code to the officer of the watch. He finds a secluded spot and begins to limber up, remembering the lessons his grandfather had instilled in him. No since pulling anything that could hamper him in the coming battle. For over an hours he stretches and tries to clear his mind and soon resigns himself that he had stretched but his mind was still clouded. Of the 18 disciplines he was made to learn, only five would he practice tonight starting with unarmed combat. It does not take long for him to work up a good sweat and then he switches to his swords, first one then using both. Watching from the shadows, he fails to notice a pair of eyes watching him. Christina Tsuji had felt something was wrong and woke. She could tell something terrible was bothering Kintaro and decided to check on him only to see him descending the ladder and leaving the drop ship with his gear. She stayed in the shadows and decided to watch, for she was sure that he had the dreams come back to haunt him once more. As she watched, it was not hard to see his timing was off, even in the simplest of steps and maneuvers. She wanted so badly to help him but as grandfather said it was something he had to work out for him self. Either he would or he wouldn't and that would be a shame, she thought. Kintaro was grandfather’s successor, but if he could not come to grip with his inner demons, he wouldn't replace him upon his death, so silently she watched and said her prayers for guidance. Once finished with the swords he took out the Manriki chain, a deadly weapon designed to disarm, and maim its opponent. As she watched, fascinated but the deadly dance he performed, she could now see why she never mastered its intricate movements. He was lost in its deadly movements and any wrong move could mean harm to him as well but for the next 25 minutes she watched him walk through routine after routine and then one she had never seen before. Once he finished, he put the chain away and began to slowly cool down for all in all he had worked out now for almost three and a half hours. Finally, when he was cooled down enough, he picked up his bag and swords and started to walk back to the drop ship to get cleaned up. As he neared her position he said "Your breathing Tsuji. Grandfather would be displeased! You need to work on it, especially if you are going to spy upon me." "How long did you know?" she asked, knowing he was not aware at first. Smiling he said, "Once I started kata with the chain." The work out done and he felt better, perhaps today they will embark on killing off the Free Skondia Mutineers forces, something that would give him great satisfaction. Word Count 1119 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #53 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #53] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 28 August 2016 - 01:01 PM DC-RD-06-02 #53 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Unknown Location 20th March 3093 15:30:00 Local Gunsho Kevin Hsu woke up once on the trip, when the DropShip landed, somewhere, to refuel. "Somewhere" as far as Kevin could see could have been anywhere from Pelican Point to Athen Islands. There was a whole strip of the world, where he'd spent a good part of his professional life, that looked exactly the same. Even the people all looked the same: dirty, slow and uncaring. He was cold as hell, hyped out for sure. He'd had hypothermia a couple of times before and he knew what it felt like. He slid the DEST armor back and spent the time trying to warm up before the next flight. It was daylight and hot so he warmed back up pretty fast. He had what felt like a touch of frostbite on one ear, so he pulled his spare T-shirt out of the jump bag and wrapped it around his head. Then he pulled out his power bars and bottled water and ate and drank it all. Better to carry it in the body than in a rucksack that might get lost. He'd toss the litter on take-off; in an third world country littering was a way of life; nobody would notice. With that done, there wasn't much else to do. There was no sound of the hostages being unloaded so the DropShip was going to refuel and go on somewhere else. Where that might be he had no idea. What he would do when they got there . . . he had no idea. He just hoped it would be at night. No, there was something he could do. He pulled on his helmet and searched for the common emergency satellite frequency used on every world throughout the Inner Sphere via his built in comm unit. He extended the antenna and selected 911. "International operator, how may I direct your call?" "Person to person to the duty officer of the day, Special Operations Command, Razan’s Ronins Mercenary Battalion, Platinum City, Bangalore." ……………………………….. "Gunsho Kevin 'Katana' Hsu," the briefing officer said. Chu-i Karen Tsang was the Office of the Razan’s Ronins liaison officer from Special Operations Command. When the Shadow Operative had forwarded the information on the Gunsho, it had been passed to her desk with a priority to, quietly, find out everything she could about one ‘Kevin Hsu’ and prepare a brief. Now she was sweating as, for the first time, she was briefing the full ‘Command Staff’ on one minor, separated, Gunsho. "Four years of college at the University of Proserpina, mediocre to poor grades, graduated and joined the DCMS with stated intention of becoming Draconis Elite Strike Team. Graduated from Basic Underwater Demolition/Special Forces school in class ‘61, was assigned to DEST Team Three, Charlie Platoon. Operational in Sarna, Capolla, Procyon. Towards the end of his second enlistment, requested transfer to a training position, which was granted." "Why?" Chu-i Reese Kimura asked. "That's not clear, Chu-i," the Intelligence Officer answered. "It's not stated anywhere in his records." "Go on." "Transferred to the Naval Special Warfare Center, on Dieron, assigned to second phase training. Promoted to Chu-i while a trainer, after having a real problem with passing the bosun's course." "Explain that," Tai-sa Onishi Razan said. "Yes, Tai-sa," Tsang replied, thinking. "DEST are trained as commandos. But their actual military skill is in something else, in the case of Gunsho Hsu it's as a bosun, which is the guy who handles . . . well, 'real' Navy stuff, how to bring in a small boat to a ship, how to do an underway transfer, how to rig stuff for a storm. Winches and boat driving and paint. It's not DEST training by any stretch. So the DEST Operatives have to take time off to study up for the tests that they have to pass to get promoted. And since they don't do it as a regular skill, they often have problems." "Okay," the Tai-sa said, nodding. "I'm too smart to get into why they're doing one skill and listed in another. Go." "He spent four years in the training school; his evaluations are mostly top of the list. Various advanced schools, good words from his commanders about his training ability and personal skills. Less . . . stellar comments about peripherals. If I may?" She picked up one of the sheets of paper and cleared her throat. "Quote: Chu-i Hsu is an erect senior skilled Chu-i of excellent bearing whose skills as a trainer are beyond reproach. His technical skills in all areas of his primary specialty are of the highest class. He is well liked by peers and respected by his students. Chu-i Hsu's greatest weakness is perhaps his greatest strength, a blinding determination to do his duty and an inability to choose his battlefields. Chu-i Hsu needs to work on his interpersonal and leadership skills. End quote. That was from one of his last evaluations as an instructor." "Can somebody translate that for me?" the Tai-sa asked plaintively. "He's a great operator and a great instructor," Chu-i Torii Nashiro replied. "And it sounds like he can't play military politics worth a damn. The kind of guy that when he sees a brick wall, can only try to shove his head through it instead of going around." "Tsang?" the Tai-sa asked. "Agreement?" "Yes, Tai-sa," the Intel Officer said, swallowing. "I'd concur in the Chu-i's evaluation." She paused for a moment and took a chance. "Even if she wasn't my boss." There was a brief chuckle from the room and the Tai-sa nodded. "Keep going." "He requested transfer back to an operational platoon near the end of his third enlistment," Tsang said. "Anticipating the question, it's hard to get promoted to chief if you're not an LPO, leading Chu-i, in an operational unit, and by that time Free Skondia Mutineers had kicked into high gear. Guys he'd trained would have been coming back from Syrma and Zebebelgenubi telling stories about kicking doors and wasting bad guys. Any DEST Agent worth the name wanted in on that. He transferred to DEST Team Five, Alpha Platoon as an LPO. He completed retraining with the team and was evaluated. Again, there was a note about using his chain of command skills. Then, while they were actively deployed, he was relieved from the LPO slot and returned to his home world. His subsequent evaluation stated that he had failed to demonstrate leadership skills of a level necessary to be an LPO at this time but that he had potential as a future leader. This, in effect, killed his career. He was transferred back to the local training detachment on Outreach, and that’s when he signed on with the Razan’s Ronins as the member of your Logistics Ops Team." "What happened with the 'leadership skills,'" Sho-ka Akita Fujinaka asked. "I did as much digging as I had time for, Sho-ka," Tsang said. "There was an accidental discharge of a weapon and a wounding of one of the DESTs from the AD. In the report, Hsu stated that he had previously counseled the shooter about weapons safety on entries. From the . . . tone of some of the other statements, notably from the shooter and the chief, I would venture to guess that it was something like the following. Hsu was a trainer for years and he came back to a platoon that had been working together for some time. The shooter had been in the platoon for his entire career. There is no written counseling statement about his weapons control immediately available but having Hsu, some jerk trainer, tell a guy with lots of operational experience he was doing it all wrong, probably didn't sit well. Especially since Hsu, apparently, has limited tact. When, in fact, the shooter turned out to be wrong, and Hsu right, the team leadership probably had to make the choice between removing the guilty party from the team or Hsu. They chose Hsu." "Politics," the Tai-sa said. "At that level, I'm unwilling to judge, Tai-sa," Chu-i Tsang replied. "I'm not going to say, from what I've seen, that they were, overall, wrong in their decision from the standpoint of the good of the team and of the military. Sometimes, just being right isn't enough." "There's that," Sho-ka Fujinaka said. "I've seen it often enough in the DCMS. A guy who's right but such an asshole that nobody wants to listen to him. Sometimes I don't but I know the information's important, so I team him up with somebody that's got some political skills. That wouldn't work on a DEST team. And it doesn't matter to this brief." "No, sir," Tsang admitted. " Gunsho Hsu is a qualified instructor in close quarter combat, survival and evasion, clandestine insertion and extraction, unarmed combat, sniping, interhouse small arms, land and underwater demolitions, Combat Diving including open and closed circuit equipment, airborne operations including military free-fall and static line. He is, from his evaluations, considered high level expert in each." "Well, that explains Free Skondia Mutineers Safehouse," Chu-i Kimura said. "Those guys never stood a chance." "Agreed," the Tai-sa said. "So where is he? I want to shake his hand." "He did not come back from yesterday’s operation," the Commanding Officer of the Razan’s Ronins Intelligence Arm said. "His Executive Officer, Yi Kuang Lin, during her debriefing told us that he display concerned over the missing fifteen hostages." "He's on the DropShip," the Tai-sa said. "He got on the DropShip." " 'Clandestine insertion’," Sho-ka Fujinaka said, grinning. Then his face cleared. "Can he survive on the DropShip? Won't he get cold? What about air?" " Sho-ka Fujinaka?" Chu-i Tsang said, clearing her throat. "I'm trained in HALO: an instructor for that matter. It depends upon how many gravities they pushed. He would be subject to bends from rapid decompression in the climb and anoxia at altitude. Gunsho Hsu would be aware of both issues and must have been willing to risk it. He may have entered the pressurized cargo bay for that matter. I don't have a design on the DropShip available at this time." "The surviving Insurgents committed suicide," the Torii Nashiro said. "However; besides ammunition, the Gunsho has a state-of-the-art long range communicator embedded within his helmet. It can link up with and maintain communication with four satellites simultaneously. Provided it delicate circuitry was not damaged, I suspect we may be getting a call from him. Hopefully soon." "Now that is a conversation that I want to hear," the Tai-sa said, smiling faintly. …………………………………………. "Heishi Patel, Command Duty Officer, Razan’s Ronins Special Operations Command, how may I help you, sir?" Kaushik R Patel was a Logistics non-comm now imprisoned, from his point of view, in durance vile in a SOCOM Sabaku Kaze Scout Hover Tank. He knew that, at this point in his career, doing a staff rotation was a must if he wanted to get any sort of high rank before retirement. But being a ‘Heishi in Razan’s Ronins Mercenary Battalion’ was a far cry from running a group of former FedRats on Kazanka, tracking down remaining Outworlds Alliance Pirates. Which was what he had been doing. And enjoying the hell out of it, frankly. Being a defacto ‘Warlord’ was just like having a command, but with less paperwork. He'd considered banking some of his pay and going back when he retired. All he needed was about fifty grand in c-bills. He figured he could get the Draconis Combine government to pay his band to keep doing what they had been doing for income. But he'd also need his retirement pay to live a reasonably decent lifestyle and be able to get back to ‘civilization’ from time to time. So he cooled his heels and monitored the airwaves and analyzed data. "Heishi, this is not a prank call," the man on the phone said. "Can you do a trace on me?" "Who is this, please?" Patel replied, tersely. "I don't have time for games, buddy." "This is one very lost Shadow who is sitting in a damned DropShip in some third world shithole tracking some kidnapped locals. Have you heard any news from Platinum City?" "Yes," Patel said, sitting up and waving to his staff duty personal. Calls were automatically recorded but he made a motion to do a trace. "I don't have much time. The DropShip took off from an Orbital Space Station and is now on the ground. They're refueling somewhere in the desert area. It's day, maybe afternoon local time, I can't get much of a look around. Just . . . phukking desert shit, you know what I mean? You got any experience?" "Lots, sir, who is this?" Patel said, frowning at the SD Hojuhei who shook his head and shrugged. The trace wasn't locking yet. "No names, Heishi," the man said. “Call me by my callsign . . ." There was a long pause and then a sigh. " ‘Katana’." " ‘Katana’," Patel said, nodding. "Okay, ‘Katana’, what's your situation?" "I survived the first flight," the man said. "I'm in the nose compartment with the wheel. It's tight and I passed out, but I don't think I'm bent or too loopy." He paused then whispered. "Wait." Patel waited, impatiently, hearing faint breathing from the mic, then a sigh. "Thank God for shitty mechanics," ‘Katana’ muttered. "They were checking the nose-wheel assembly but didn't bother to get off the ground. Just kicked the tires and wandered off." "Well, that means you could be anywhere from Poseidon to Gibraltor, buddy," Patel said with a chuckle. "Tell me about it," ‘Katana’ replied with a faint note of humor. "I'm going to try to track and report. What's your number?" "813D715S4279," Patel replied. "Got it on my arm," ‘Katana’ said. "They kicked the tires now they're lighting the fires. I got to go back to my hide." "Hang in there, buddy," Patel said. "We've got a warning order on this. The whole fucking world, at least the good part of it, is going to drop on them as soon as we know where you are going." "Good to hear," ‘Katana’ said, then snorted. "Go tell the Spartans, right?" "Yeah, man," Patel replied, his face set in a hard grin. "Go tell the Spartans. Well, the Spartans know and they're coming, unlike the damned Athenians." "Please, no French," ‘Katana’ said. "Out here." Patel leaned back and looked at the SD Hojuhei with a raised eyebrow. "Helmet transmitter," the E-1 said, shrugging. "Couldn't get a positive lock on position. The satellites it used were generally servicing the western hemisphere." "The Intelligence Division will be warmed up for the next call," Patel said. "Well, we have contact. The day just got much more interesting." ………………………………. "Well, you got to listen to the phone call, Tai-sa," the Sho-ka Fujinaka said, smiling. "What do you think?" "Spartans?" the Tai-sa replied. "I know, in general, who they are. But what is that about 'go tell the Spartans?' The Heishi seemed to recognize it. Torii?" "Two history buffs," Nashiro said, turning her face away for a moment and taking a breath. "In fifth-century BC, a group of three hundred Spartans were dispatched to the pass in Thermopylae, Greece, to hold off an oncoming Persian army. Thermopylae, by the way, translates as 'The Hot Gates.' They were to briefly delay the Persians until reinforcements from Athens arrived." She paused again and shook her head, looking at the table. "The Athenians debated," Sho-ka Fujinaka said, his face hard. "And the forces were never sent." "What happened to the Spartans?" the Tai-sa asked. "They were outnumbered . . ." Chu-i Reece paused and shrugged. "Well, it depends upon which history paper you believe. But they were outnumbered by between ten at the low end and a thousand at the high end, to one. And . . . they held the pass. For three days. Fighting all day long, every day, in that high, unbearably hot, place. I've been there, I've seen the tablet. When we were on Terra for the wedding." He had to pause, too, and shook his head. "I take it they didn't survive," the Tai-sa said, looking at the faces. "They were betrayed by a Greek who led the Persians around the position," Fujinaka said, nodding. "Each day they would rise, polish their armor, comb out their hair and bind it up, and then do battle all day long. For three days. Until they were finally encircled and destroyed." "It's . . . legend in . . . call it the military circle," Reece, the Chu-i, said, nodding, his eyes bright. "I'm surprised you've never heard of it, Tai-sa. The tablet translates in various ways. But I think I like Byron's translation best." " 'Go tell the Spartans, passerby,' " Torii said, quietly, her head still down, " 'that here the three hundred lie, obedient to their commands. The Athenians never came’." "Well, we will," the Tai-sa said. "By Buddha we will." WORD COUNT 2871 Edited by Oni, 28 August 2016 - 02:36 PM. Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #54 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #54] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 28 August 2016 - 03:05 PM DC-RD-06-02 #54 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Islands Complex Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 16:30:00 Local The second time Kevin Hsu woke up it was much worse. He had degenerative damage in both knees, his right hip, his right elbow and his left shoulder. Which was why he had removed his DEST Sneak Suit. All of those joints, and his back, and his head, were screaming. He knew that pain was weakness leaving the body. He'd been in worse pain in his life. Rarely, but he had. Unfortunately, this pain was crippling enough he couldn't move. The DropShip was taxiing through a blacked out airport. That was as much as Kevin could tell from his position. He managed to pull his survival kit around mounted on the M61A Laser Rifle Combat System and rummage in the medicinal portion. First he pulled out a handful of Pepcid Complete and chewed them up, swallowing them with just about the last of his saliva. Then he took two eight hundred milligram ibuprofen ‘horse’ tablets. He'd taken so much ibuprofen in BUDS that he'd ended up throwing up blood and his stomach was still sensitive to it. The Pepcids were a necessity not a nicety. When he'd swallowed the pills, he forced his body to move, grimacing against the stabbing pain in his joints. He wasn't sure if he'd been bent or if it was just the joints reacting to the pressure change. That was a ‘mild’ form of the bends he'd have for the rest of his life every time the weather changed. More damage or simply pain? It didn't really matter, he had a mission to complete and he had to drive the phuk on. He had a feeling this was the final destination. More than one refueling stop would be problematic for the Insurgents. They'd probably refueled in one of the ‘lawless’ regions of Ampheres. That would make this somewhere in the near southern poles. He wasn't sure a Buccaneer-Class DropShips had enough legs to make it from Ampheres to, say, Poseidon or Gilbraltor. Gilbraltor was top on his list of probable spots for the hostages to be taken. Not only was Free Skondia Mutineers getting really crazy lately, they'd done the ‘hostage’ game with Bangalore before. The DropShip coasted to a stop and a ‘Follow-Me’ hooked up and turned it around, backing it into position. Kevin could hear echoes and realized they were being backed into a hangar. Which would be a pain in the ass to egress. The ‘Follow-Me’ stopped, though, before the DropShip was fully in the hangar. The doors were partially closed and he could hear voices shouting in Arabic. That changed things. Gilbraltorians spoke Persian, Farsi, and it was close enough to Dari, which he'd heard a lot, to tell the difference between it and Arabic. Farsi was more . . . liquid. Arabic was a really guttural language like Hebrew with a lot of hawking up loogies involved. These guys were hawking loogies so he probably wasn't in Gilbraltor. He stood up, quietly, and worked his joints, then got down on his knees and took a quick peek, upside down, out of the nose section. Group of guys in blue jumpsuits, like spaceport workers, unloading the DropShip from the back, using another one of those lift-trucks. Another cargo truck the coffins were being stacked in. A couple of Free Skondia Mutineers-insignia Phalanx Battle Armor hanging around watching. Two or three civvies watching as well, maybe Corporals. No Phalanx Battle Armor on the front of the hangar. Why weren't there any Phalanx Armor on the front of the hangar? He looked at his clothes and rubbed his chin. Not enough stubble, clothes not shabby enough, hair too long. For that matter, the clothes were too well made. The reason everybody in the Islands wanted Bangalore jeans was that their jeans were just better than anything made overseas. But they didn't ‘look’ right. He couldn't really pass for a local. A T-shirt was not a normal item to wrap around the head. It disappeared into the survival kit. Survival kits weren't normal items, nor were M61A Laser Rifles. Too frickin' bad. He took another look, then lowered himself out of the nose assembly and onto the pavement, keeping the nose assembly between him and the work at the rear. The front of the DropShip was in darkness, probably deliberately to try to keep Bangalore from noting it by satellite and wondering. He shifted his Assault System to his left and just slowly sauntered towards the doors. Once he was past them, nobody in the group at the rear was going to see him. And, still, no Phalanx Battle Armor in view. Maybe they were trying to act like it was no big deal, unloading a DropShip in the dark of night with no lights on. Past the doors he headed for the side of the hangar, M61A Laser Rifle down. The worst possible thing he could do was kill someone. If the Insurgents, and whoever was supporting them, knew the op was blown, they might kill the hostages on a whim. Or speed up whatever their plans were. The Free Skondia Mutineers generally killed their hostages if their demands weren't met quickly. Nick Berg had found that out. The Lipton Indigs had caved but he couldn't imagine the Skondia government doing the same. Especially since Sakamoto’s FSM Division would make the demands high. And he was pretty sure that they wouldn't simply slit their throats in front of a camera. There were other things they could do to make the experience more uncomfortable for both the hostages and the Bangalore public. But they were being transported, again, ‘somewhere else’. He had to find out, somehow, where the truck was going. If he called it in they might be able to track it on satellite, but satellites had to be in just the right basket to get a good view. Probably they were retasking all the Keyholes for just that reason, but they still had to be in the right basket. There was another hangar next to the one where the hostages were being unloaded, also unlit and unguarded. He could see guard towers in the distance and a control tower bulking against the sky. He cautiously checked the corner of the hangar, but there wasn't anyone in the dead space between the two, just a slight channel for water run-off and a bunch of litter. Typical. He moved down the wall of the hangar cautiously. There would be, were from what he had seen, Phalanx Battle Armor on the far end of the hangar. That end of the hangar, north from looking at the sun which was bright in the clear sky, was near the perimeter fence of the airport. Like most in the Free Skondia Mutineer Bases it looked as if it had been put up in the 2950s and never repaired: sagging and rusted chain link with a single strand of concertina tacked on the top that dangled almost to the ground in places. He slowly moved out from the wall of the hangar, moving over to the adjacent hangar, hunting for a glimpse of what was happening at the front. What he saw, first, was that there was a guarded gate about fifty meters from the back of the hangar. He squatted down and considered the view, thinking. The hostages were probably going to be driven out there. The road beyond the gate curved to the left, his direction, then climbed up some low hills towards barely glimpsed mountains. At least that was how it looked from the darkness between the hangars. There were side doors on the hangars and he was just considering backing up and trying one, to get out of sight and call in if nothing else, when one of the blue clad workers walked around the corner and lit up a cigarette. The man was no more than thirty meters from him and glanced down the narrow alley but didn't register his squatting figure in the dark. Moving, however, was out of the question. All Kevin could do was squat there, catching a faint whiff of tobacco smoke and BO, and hope like hell the guy never spotted him. One of the Phalanx Battle Armor eventually drifted over and cadged a smoke, the two of them talking in low tones as they puffed on their vile local cigarettes. If there had been a roving guard he would have been done, but the security all seemed to be focused on the rear of the DropShip and, probably, the perimeter of the airport. As he was squatting there in the dark a small truck drove past, just inside the fence. He guessed that there were more Phalanx Battle Armor out in the other direction, looking for a reaction. But a small team could infiltrate this place in a heartbeat and take down the Phalanx Battle Armor by the DropShip. Holding the spot would be tough, though, and he considered Palmyra and rethought the situation. In Palmyra, in a similar situation, two really good shooters had managed to take down most of a DEST platoon and had more or less stopped it cold when the Strike Team tried to advance across the runway. Fighting on airports needed a special assault mindset, given their lack of cover, and such an assault would probably kill some or all of the hostages. Finally the two Insurgents left the corner and Kevin backed up to the door of the unused hangar. It was locked but the blade of his bayonet vibro-blade sufficed to force the lock and let him in without too much noise. The hangar was dark as pitch and he waited for his eyes to adjust as much as they could. There was some sort of fighter, an aerospace fighter he thought, in the hangar with various parts pulled off. It looked as if the engine had been yanked. There were a lot of parts strewn around the floor and he moved across the big room carefully. He had to get in a position to cross the open area between the hangars and the perimeter fence. If he could get onto the hills, by the road, he might be able to hitch a ride on the truck as it slowed to climb the first hill. At least he could if he hurried. Still no time to call in. Maybe once he was in position, given time. He crossed the hangar and found another door on the opposite side. He cautiously opened that one and saw that there was a blank building face on the far side. Not a hangar, maybe a maintenance area or something. No windows on the alley, though. He moved cautiously down the alley and checked the far side. No Phalanx Battle Armor in that area but the open area was a great place to get spotted. He considered the crossing carefully and really didn't like it. But. The area was built on a slight rise and he could, vaguely, see that there was a dip between the fence and the hills. And it looked as if it was designed for rainwater run-off. The alley was dipped in the middle to catch water, but it would form a pond if there wasn't a way out. And he'd seen some storm-water grates in the alley. Probably there was a culvert that led from the alley to the dip. He backed up and found one of the grates, pulling it up cautiously to avoid too much noise then looked in the hole. Given the Islands maintenance he really wasn't looking forward to getting in that hole. The culvert was probably going to be at least partially blocked. He might miss the truck and never know it until he got out. But it was a way out of the airport that was less likely to get him caught, and the mission blown, than even a slow creep across the open area. If he had time for a slow creep. He dropped into the hole and pulled the grate back over, ducking down and looking in the hole. It was black as the inside of a stomach and it looked as if it was finally time for some light. He pulled the Surefire light out of his survival kit and carefully put the red lens on it, then twisted it on. The culvert was clear as far as he could see so he got down on his belly, rigged up the M61A Laser Rifle Assault System with its integral survival kit to drag behind him and started crawling, vibro-blade in one hand and flashlight in the other. About the middle of the road he hit his first obstacle, a mess of trash that was too complicated to find even one item that was recognizable. There were a couple of rats rustling in the debris that wanted to contest his right-of-way but he wasn't in any mood for it. He waved them away, bopping one of them on the head with the Surefire and forced his way past the garbage. It was pretty wet and smelled like hell, but he could live with that. The air was pretty close as well, but there were more grates to let in fresh air. As he approached one by the road he flicked off his light and kept it off, using the faint light from the grates to find his way. He didn't want a mysterious red light giving him away. He moved down the sewer as fast as he could, given the need to remain stealthy. The M61A Laser Rifle clinked against the metal sides from time to time but that was the only major sound he gave off. And except for that one pile of trash the culvert was remarkably clear. He found the far side easily enough but was balked by the fact that it had galvanized metal bars over the end. He should have considered that. They were pretty old, though, they looked as if they'd been installed with the airfield was built and the galvanization had worn off of most of them leaving them heavily rusted, and after a wrestle that left him sweating one of them finally gave way with a slight ping of breaking metal and a grinding noise. He slid out the narrow gap, ripping his shirt and cutting his skin on the torn metal, then lay in the dip, checking his surroundings. He was below the view from the guard gate but as soon as he tried to climb the hills he would be in view. He also had to consider that perimeter vehicle. He cautiously lifted his head and got a glimpse of the hangar. The truck was still there, the DropShip, apparently, still being unloaded. The perimeter vehicle, either the same one or another, was in sight but more than a kilometer off. The Phalanx Battle Armor Sentries on the gate were looking out as well, but at the road. He moved cautiously down the gap, in the direction the perimeter vehicle was coming from, looking for a covered way into the hills. As the perimeter vehicle approached he flattened himself behind some low rocks and thought about being invisible. It apparently worked since the truck rumbled past without alarm. As soon as it had gotten a few hundred yards away, on the other side of the gate, he started crawling again. Finally he reached a point where a shallow wadi came down out of the hills. He was nearly opposite the airport control building, which had some lighted windows and, presumably, people in the tower. But he figured it was as good as he was going to get. He took the wadi in a combat crouch, moving up it as stealthily as he could. He was getting worried about time, though. He had to find the road into the hills and get a good hide position before the truck pulled out. And it would be nice to find time to call in. Carefully, cautiously, feeling his way in the dark and still trying to hurry, he made his way into the hills. WORD COUNT 2752 ---------------------------------------------- Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #55 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #55] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points Posted 30 August 2016 - 02:13 PM DC-RD-06-02 #55 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Little Bangalore ICE STATION V 20th March 3093 08:00:00 Local Under a sky concealed by a thick layer of clouds, a Skondia Militia GIA Cavalry Infantry VTOL landed on a frozen airstrip, hovered toward a domed building, and then came to a stop. Little Bangalore V was the fifth in the line of Skondia ice stations to bear the name since Admiral Byrd had established the first in 2928. Once situated several miles from the edge of the Ampheres Shelf near the Bay, the sea was now only a short walk away, due to the calving of the ice pack over the years. The base served as a terminus for the 630-mile-long well-traveled ice road to the Byrd Surface Camp on the Plateau. A man bundled up in a lime-green parka and fur-trimmed hood removed his sunglasses and grinned as Fuqua opened the passenger’s door and stepped to the frozen ground. “You Fuqua or Lawton?” he asked in a rumbling voice. “I’m Fuqua. You must be Frank Cash, the ice station chief.” Cash merely nodded. “I didn’t expect you for another two hours.” “We hurried.” Fuqua turned as Lawton, who had closed down the Cavalry VTOL, joined them. Lawton introduced himself and said, “Thank you for working with us on such short notice, but it’s a matter of extreme urgency.” “I have no reason to doubt you,” said Cash astutely, “even though I received no instructions from a higher authority.” Unable to talk their way into joining the special force assault team that was being formed to raid the Free Skondia Mutineers underwater compound and halt the coming cataclysm, they had been told in no uncertain terms by Major Rokuhara Morgan to remain in Platinum City out of harm’s way. Fuqua’s reasoning had been that he and Lawton were essential to the raid, because it was his Skondia SWAT team that knew more about the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army and their security tactics than anyone else and thus they would have more success in discovering the horrifying truth behind the man-induced cataclysm. And, since they were already Special Forces, they could get there before the assault team and provide intel on the habitat. His plea had fallen on deaf ears. The argument by the high-ranking command staff had been that they had not had enough training and conditioning for such a strenuous and difficult operation in their Nighthawk PA-L Armor. In Skondia case, he was not about to allow his best men to commit suicide in the frigid wastes of the northern polar islands. Fuqua and Lawton, however, true to form, had taken a Skondia Militia GIA Cavalry Infantry VTOL, and instead of flying it back to Platinum City as they had been ordered, they’d filled it to the brim with aviation fuel and taken off for the Ampheres Islands, in hopes of entering the Free Skondia Mutineers underwater habitat through the ‘back’ door, without the slightest plan in their heads of how to cross sixty miles of frozen waste to the Free Skondia Mutineers operation once they landed in Little Bangalore. “We’ll figure out something when we get there.” Fuqua was fond of saying this. Followed by Lawton’s “I’ll tag along, since I don’t have anything better to do.” “Come on inside,” said Cash, “before we turn into ice sculptures.” “What’s the temperature?” asked Lawton. “Pretty nice today, with no wind. Last I looked, it was fifteen degrees below zero.” “At least I won’t have to send for ice cubes for my tequila,” said Fuqua. The domed building, which was 80 percent covered with ice, protruded only five feet above ground. The living and working quarters were a maze of rooms and corridors hacked under the ice. Cash led them into the dining area next to the kitchen and ordered them a hot lunch of lasagna from the station cook before producing a half-gallon bottle of burgundy. “Not fancy, but it hits the spot,” he said, laughing. “All the comforts of home,” mused Lawton. “Not really,” Cash said, with a grim smile. “You have to be mentally deficient to want to live this life.” “Then why not take a job somewhere with a milder climate?” asked Fuqua, noticing that all the men he’d seen at the station were bearded and the women had forsaken makeup and coiffures. “Men and women volunteer to work in polar regions because of the excitement of pursuing a dangerous job exploring the unknown. A few come to escape problems at home, but the majority are scientists who pursue the studies of their chosen expertise regardless of where it takes them. After a year, they’re more than ready to return home. By that time, they’ve either turned into zombies or they’ve begun to hallucinate.” Fuqua looked at Cash. He didn’t have a haunted look in his eyes, at least not yet. “It must take strength of Skondiacter to subsist in such a bleak environment.” “It begins with age,” Cash explained. “Men under twenty-five lack reliability, men over forty-five lack the stamina.” After waiting patiently for a few minutes, while Fuqua and Lawton ate most of their lasagna, Cash finally asked, “When you contacted me from Steen, did I hear right when you said you wanted to cross the ice shelf to the Bay?” Fuqua nodded. “We’re searching for Free Skondia Mutineers.” Cash shook his head. “The Free Skondia Mutineer are security fanatics. None of our scientific expeditions ever got within ten miles of the place before being chased off by their Phalanx Battle Armor.” “We’re quite familiar with the Phalanx Battle Armor,” said Lawton, relaxing after filling his stomach. “What did you have in mind for transportation? We have no helicopter here.” “All we’ll need is a couple of snowmobiles,” Fuqua said, looking into Cash’s face. The expression in the ice station chief’s eyes was not encouraging. Cash looked pained. “I fear you two have flown a long way for nothing. Two of our snowmobiles are in maintenance, waiting for parts to be flown in. And the other four were taken by scientists to study the ice around the Islands north of here.” “How soon before your scientists return?” asked Fuqua. “Not for another three days.” “You have no other transportation?” asked Lawton. “A bulldozer and a four thousand kilogram Rock-Rover.” “What about the Rock-Rover?” Cash shrugged. “A section of one track shattered from the cold. We’re waiting for a part to be flown in from Baibars.” Lawton looked across the table at his friend. “Then we have no choice but to fly in and hope we find a place to land.” Fuqua shook his head. “We can’t risk jeopardizing the special force mission by dropping in out of the blue. I had hoped that with snowmobiles we might have covered the distance, parked them a mile or two away from the mining compound, and then creep in unobserved.” “You fellas act like it’s a matter of life or death,” said Cash. Fuqua and Lawton exchanged glances and then both looked at the station chief, their faces set in grave expressions. “Yes,” Fuqua said severely, “it’s life and death to more people than you can possibly conceive.” “Can you tell me what this is all about?” “Can’t,” Lawton answered simply. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to know. It might ruin your entire day.” Cash poured a cup of coffee and contemplated the dark liquid for a few moments. Then he said, “There is one other possibility, but it’s highly improbable.” Fuqua stared at him. “We’re listening.” “Admiral Byrd’s Brunel Dump Truck,” Cash announced, as if he was launching a lecture, which indeed he was. “A jumbo six-wheel-drive, larger than any vehicle built in her day.” “When was that?” Lawton queried. “Twenty-nine seventy-nine.” There was a pause. “It was the inspiration of Achemar Heavy Industries, to support strip mining, who designed and built a monstrous machine he hoped could carry three men and two hundred tons of material. I guess you might call it the Sphere’s first really big off-road vehicle. The tires alone were over three feet wide and more than ten feet in diameter. From front to back, it measured fifty-six feet long by twenty feet wide and weighed one hundred fifty tons unloaded. Believe you me, she’s some vehicle.” “She sounds overly elaborate,” said Fuqua, “for a vehicle designed to transport germanium.” “She was that. Besides a grand control cabin raised on the front, it had its own machine shop, living quarters for the crew, and a galley that also performed double duty as an office for the vehicle’s chief. The rear end housed storage space for fifty five tons worth of cargo, spare tires, and enough fuel for five thousand miles of travel. Not only that, she was supposed to have carried a Sprint VTOL with skis on her roof.” “What did such a monster use for power?” “Two nine-hundred-and-fifty-horsepower diesel engines linked to four seventy-five-horsepower electric traction motors, which could feed power to all or any one of the wheels individually. The wheels could all be turned for a crabbing movement and sharp turns, and even retract when crossing a crevasse. Each wheel alone weighed six thousand pounds. The tires were twelve-ply and made by Goodyear.” “Are you saying this gargantuan machine not only still exists, but is available?” asked Fuqua incredulously. “Oh, she exists, but I can’t say she’s available or that she could travel across sixty miles of the ice shelf. Sixty miles may not seem like much distance, but after the Brunel Dump Truck was completed, shipped to the Ampheres Islands, and unloaded at Little Bangalore Three, not far from this station, her designer’s best-laid plans went down the sewer. The engines had the power, but AHI had miscalculated the gear ratios. The behemoth would do fifty kilometers an hour on a level road, but couldn’t pull her mass through ice and snow, especially up a grade. Given up as a white elephant, she was abandoned. In later years, she was covered over by the ice, lost, and forgotten. It was always thought that as the ice shelf moved toward the sea, the Brunel Dump Truck would eventually be carried away and dropped in the deep when the ice floe melted.” “Where is she now, still buried under the ice?” Fuqua inquired. Cash shook his head and smiled. “The Brunel Dump Truck is about two miles from here, dangerously close to the edge of the ice shelf. A rich old mining engineer got it into his head to find and rescue the vehicle, then transport it back to Bangalore for display in a museum. He and his crew discovered it thirty feet deep in the ice and spent three weeks digging it out. They built an ice tent around it, and the last I heard actually got it running.” “I wonder if they’d let us borrow it?” “Never hurts to ask,” said Cash. “But I think you’d do better selling a basset hound on eating broccoli.” “We’ve got to try,” Fuqua said firmly. “You got Arctic clothing?” “In the chopper.” “Better get it on. We’ll have to hike to where the Brunel Dump Truck sits.” Then Cash looked as though he’d suddenly thought of something. “Before I forget, I’ll have a couple of our maintenance men throw a cover over your VTOL and set up an auxiliary heater to keep your engines, fuel, and hydraulic systems warm and the ice off the fuselage and rotors. Leave a VTOL set for a week and she’ll start to disappear under a buildup of ice.” “Good idea,” Lawton acknowledged. “We may have to use it in a hurry if all else fails.” “I’ll meet you back here in half an hour and I’ll lead you to the vehicle.” “Who is the old guy who’s heading up the salvage operation?” asked Fuqua. Cash looked lost for a moment. “I don’t really know. He’s an eccentric cuss. His crew usually calls him ‘Dad.’ ” ................. Lieutenant Andrew Fuqua callsign: 'Frenchy' Nighthawk Special Forces Skondia SWAT SAS STAR LEAGUE WORD COUNT 2049 Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #56 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #56] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points Posted 30 August 2016 - 04:28 PM DC-RD-06-02 #56 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island 'Dad's Restoration Camp 20th March 3093 09:00:00 Local With Cash in the lead, they walked a trail marked with orange flags across the ice for nearly an hour. After a while, Fuqua could see figures moving about a large blue tent surrounded by a series of smaller orange polar tents. A light snow was falling and forming a thin white blanket over the tents. Strange as it seems, the Ampheres rarely experiences a heavy snow. There was almost no wind, but not having yet built an immunity against the icy temperatures, Fuqua and Lawton felt cold beneath their heavy Arctic clothing. The sun blazed through the remnants of the ozone layer, and the glare would have dazzled their eyes but for the darkly coated lenses of their glasses. “It looks nice and peaceful,” said Fuqua, taking in the majestic view of the landscape. “No traffic, no smog, no noise.” “Don’t let it fool you,” Cash came back. “The weather can change into cyclonic hell in less time than you can spit. I can’t count all the fingers and toes that have been lost to frostbite. Frozen bodies are found on a regular basis. That’s why anyone who works in the Ampheres is required to provide a full set of dental X rays and wear dog tags. You never know when your remains will have to be identified.” “Bad as that.” “The windchill is the big killer. People have taken a short hike only to be overtaken by high winds that block out all vision, and they freeze to death before finding their way back to the station.” They trudged the final quarter of a mile in silence, stepping over the crusted, wind-carved ice that thickened and compressed as it went deeper. Fuqua was beginning to feel the tentacles of exhaustion, too little sleep, and the pressures of the past few days, but the thought of falling into a bed never occurred to him. The stakes were too high, fantastically so. Yet his step was not as energetic as it should have been. He noticed that Lawton was not walking lively, either. They reached the camp and immediately entered the main tent. The initial sight of the Brunel Dump Truck stunned them almost as much as when they’d viewed the Free Skondia Mutineerss Phalanx Battle Armor for the first time. The great wheels and tires dwarfed the men working around them. The control cab that sat flush with the smooth front end rose sixteen feet into the air and brushed the top of the tent. It was painted a bright fire-engine red, with a vertical orange stripe running around the sides. The loud sound they had heard when approaching across the ice came from a pair of chain saws held by two men who were cutting grooves in the massive tires. An old fellow with gray hair and a gray beard was supervising the crude method of cutting tread into rubber. Cash stepped up to him and patted one shoulder to get his attention. The old man turned, recognized Cash, and gestured for everyone to follow him. He led the way outside and then into a smaller tent next door that contained the galley, with a small cookstove. He offered them chairs around a long folding metal table. “There, that’s quieter,” he said, with a warm smile, as he stared through blue-green eyes. “This is Lieutenant Andrew Fuqua and Staff Sergeant Kevin Lawton with the Star League Skondia SWAT Special Forces company,” said Cash. “They have an urgent mission for the Skondia government, and hope you can help them carry it out.” “My name is a bit strange, so my crew, who are all forty years younger than I am, just call me Dad,” he said, shaking hands. “What can I do for you?” “Haven’t we met before?” asked Fuqua, studying the old man. “It’s possible. I get around quite a bit.” “The Brunel Dump Truck,” said Fuqua, cutting to the heart of his request, “is it in any condition to drive to the Ice Shelf?” “That’s what she was built to do, but if you’d have asked that question sixty years ago, or even a week ago, I’d have said no. On dry land it proved a remarkable machine, but on the ice it was a dismal failure. For one thing, the tires were smooth spun ineffectively without friction. And the gearing in the reduction unit was all wrong. Driving her up a slight hill was like an eighteen-wheeler semi and trailer attempting to pull a load up the Skondia Mountains in sixteenth gear. The engine would lug itself to death. By changing the gears and cutting treads in the tires, we think we can demonstrate that she might have lived up to expectations and actually reached the Shelf.” “What if she came up against a crevasse too wide for her to drive over?” inquired Lawton. “Achemar, the Dump Truck’s designer and builder, came up with an ingenious innovation. The big wheels and tires were positioned close to the center of the body, which left an overhang front and rear of eighteen feet. The wheels were capable of retracting upward until they were level with the underside of the body. When the driver came to a crevasse, he lifted the front wheels. Then the rear-wheel traction pushed the forward section over the crevasse. Once the front wheels were safe on the opposite side, they were lowered. Finally, the rear wheels were retracted and the front then pulled the cruiser to the other side. A very ingenious system that actually works.” “Where did you find sixty-year-old gears that would fit the reduction unit?” “The unit, or transmission, was not the only one built. We analyzed the problem and how to fix it before we came down here. The original manufacturer is still in business and had a bin of old parts buried deep in their warehouse. Fortunately, they had the gears we needed to make the necessary changes.” “Have you tested her yet?” asked Lawton. “You’ve arrived at an opportune moment,” replied Dad. “In the next hour, we hope to run her out onto the ice for the first time since she came to rest in 3020, and see what she can do. And just in time, too. Another couple of weeks and the ice floe would have broken and carried her out to sea, where she would have eventually sunk.” “How do you intend to transport her back to Bangalore?” asked Lawton. “I’ve chartered a small cargo ship that is moored off the ice shelf. We’ll drive her across the ice, up a ramp, and onto the ship.” “If she performs according to expectations,” said Fuqua, “can we borrow her for a couple of days?” Dad looked blank. Then he turned and stared at Cash. “He’s joking.” Cash shook his head. “He’s not joking. These men desperately need transportation to locate the Free Skondia Mutineers hidden HQ.” Dad squinted at Fuqua as he refilled his wineglass. “I should say not. By the time I’m finished, I will have spent over three hundred thousand pounds to pull her out of the ice, restore her to running condition, and transport her back to the Museum in Platinum City. When I first discussed my dream of saving the vehicle, everyone laughed at me. My crew and I dug under the worst weather conditions imaginable. It was a major feat to lift her back to the surface again, and we’re all damned proud. I’m not about to hand her over to a couple of mercenaries who want to go joyriding around the ice pack.” “Trust me,” said Fuqua earnestly. “We’re not going for a joyride. As bizarre as it sounds, we are trying to avert a worldwide catastrophe.” “The answer is no!” Fuqua and Lawton exchanged cold looks. Then Fuqua removed a small folder from the breast pocket of his arctic survival coat and pushed it across the table at Dad. “Inside, you will find several phone numbers. They list, in order, the Governor Office of Skondia, the Joint Ministers of Staff of Skondia Defense Force, the Congressional Ministerial Committee, and Tai-sa Onishi Razan of Razan’s Ronins . There are also names of other important people who will back up our story.” “And what, may I ask, is your story?” Dad asked skeptically. So Fuqua pulled out the data chip and showed him. ................. Lieutenant Andrew Fuqua callsign: 'Frenchy' Nighthawk Special Forces Skondia SWAT SAS STAR LEAGUE WORD COUNT 1460 Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS #57 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #57] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points Posted 30 August 2016 - 07:40 PM DC-RD-06-02 #57 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island 20th March 3093 16:45:00 Local Painted in a charcoal gray with no markings but a small Razan’s Ronins flag on the vertical stabilizer, the Michaelson Heavy Industries Trireme Combat Support Transport soared above an ocean of pearl-white clouds blanketing the glaring ice of Ampheres like a giant, featherless pterodactyl over a Mesozoic landscape. Razan’s Ronins Kashira Michael Afrane was quite at home in his cockpit office flying over the frozen islands. Normally, he flew back and forth between battle zones, insertion areas, and the bivouacs scattered around any given planet, transporting troops, equipment, and supplies. This trip they had been abruptly pressed into service to fly the hurriedly assembled assault teams to the Kessel Province and drop them over the Free Skondia Mutineers underground facility. Afrane looked more like a public relations director than a pilot. Graying hair neatly trimmed, always ready with a smile, he was always volunteering to help out the Razan’s Ronins service and charity organizations. On most flights, he read a book, while his copilot, Shujin Abrienne Antonucci, a long-boned Italian whose knees came halfway to her chin when she was seated, tended the controls and instruments. Almost reluctantly, he glanced from his book, The Eirstien Papers by Charles Dirge, out his side window and then at the Global Positioning System display. “Time to go back to work,” he announced, putting aside the book. He turned and smiled at Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka, who sat perched on a stool behind the pilots. “It’s almost time to begin prebreathing, Chu-i, and acclimate yourselves to the oxygen.” Tanaka stared through the windshield over the pilot’s heads, but all he saw was cloud cover. He assumed that a corner of the Kessel Province was looming unseen ahead and below the aircraft. “How’s my time?” Afrane nodded at the instrument panel. “We’ll be over your release point in one hour. Are your men ready and eager?” “Ready, maybe, but I’d hardly describe them as eager. They’ve all jumped from an aircraft at thirty-five thousand feet at one time or another, but not while it was traveling at its top speed. We’re used to feeling the aircraft slow down before the ramp lowers.” “Sorry I can’t bring you in closer, slower, and lower,” said Afrane sympathetically. “The trick is for you and your men to land on the ice without your chutes being discovered in the air. My orders state in no uncertain terms for me to make my flight appear to be the routine supply run to McMurdo Sound in a normal flight pattern. I’ve shaved it as close as I dare without raising suspicion. As it is, you’ll have to glide nearly ten miles to your target zone just outside the security fences.” “The wind is blowing from the ocean, so that’s in your favor,” offered Antonucci. “The cloud cover helps, too,” Tanaka said slowly. “And if they have a functioning radar system, the operator will have to have four eyes to detect us from the exact moment we exit until we deploy our canopies.” Afrane made a slight course change and then said, “I don’t envy you, Chu-i, jumping from a nice warm VTOL into an icy blast one hundred degrees below zero.” Tanaka smiled. “At least you didn’t hand me the tired old pilot’s line about ‘jumping from a perfectly good chopper.’ I appreciate that.” They all laughed for a few moments at the inside joke among professionals. For decades, parachutists had been posed the question, “Why do you jump from a perfectly good helicopter?” usually by pilots. The stock answer Tanaka usually gave was “When a perfectly good helicopter exists, then I’ll quit jumping.” “As for the cold,” Tanaka continued, “our electrically heated battle armor and DEST sneak suits will keep us from turning into icicles while we descend to a warmer altitude.” “The clouds extend, too, within a thousand feet of the ground, so you’ll be falling blind most of the way, since your compasses and GPS instruments are ineffective,” said Antonucci. “The men are well trained for that. The key to a successful high-altitude, low-opening infiltration jump is to exit at the correct grid coordinate upwind, and have everyone under canopy at relatively the same altitude.” “We’ll put you out on a silver quarter. But it won’t be no picnic.” “No,” said Tanaka solemnly. “I’m sure that in the first minute after we drop from the chopper, we’ll wish we were falling into a fiery hell instead.” Afrane checked the instrument panel again. “After you and your men finish prebreathing, I’ll decompress the cabin. Immediately afterward, I’ll pass on the twenty- and ten-minute warnings to you and my crew. Then I’ll notify you over the intercom when we’re six minutes from the release point. At two minutes out, I’ll lower the ramp.” “Understood.” “At one minute out,” Afrane went on, “I’m going to ring the alarm bell once. Then, when we’re directly over the release point, I’ll turn on the green light. At the airspeed we’ll be flying, you’ll have to get out quickly as a group.” “Our intentions exactly.” “Good luck to you,” said Afrane, twisting in his pilot’s seat and shaking hands with the Chu-i. Tanaka smiled faintly. “Thanks for the ride.” “Our pleasure,” Afrane said genuinely. “But I hope we don’t have to do it again anytime soon.” “Nor do I.” Tanaka stood and straightened, left the cockpit, and walked aft into the helicopter’s cavernous 18 ton cargo bay. His DEST team was joined by two platoons from the 5th Jump Infantry Company , The Minutemen. The sixty-four men seated inside were a serious-faced group, dogged and dead calm, considering the uncertain peril they were about to encounter. They were young. Their ages ranged from twenty to twenty-four. There was no laughter or unproductive conversation, no grousing or complaining. To a man they were absorbed in checking and rechecking their equipment. They were a composite of the Razan’s Ronins’ and the Skondia Militia GIA detachment’s finest fighting men, hastily thrown together on the spur of the moment from special units to take on Ampheres that were on counter-operations throughout Skondia. A platoon of DEST troopers, a section of KAGE DEST armor, a squad of the Ronins’ Raiden Tsunami armor, a squad of the Shadows Kanazuchi Assault Armor and two jump platoons of the elite Minutemen . . . a combined band of secret warriors on a mission unlike any ever conceived. Once the alert had been given Chu-i Kimura by the Razan’s Ronins Command Staff, the one thing they had in short supply was time. The Skondia Militia GIA Battlemech Company was on the way from Sayf but was not expected to reach the Bay for another several days, a time span that might prove too late and disastrous. Tai-sa Razan’s warning was not received with enthusiasm by the Governor’ top aides, nor the Skondia Garrison. At first, none dared believe the incredible story. Only when Chu-i Torii Nashiro and various scientists added their weight to the plea for action was the Governor persuaded to allow Razan’s Ronins to send a special force to stop the rapidly approaching cataclysm. An air assault with missiles was quickly ruled out because of an utter lack of intelligence data. Nor could the Skondia Government and Razan’s Ronins be absolutely sure that they might not find themselves in hot water with Living Dragon for destroying an innocent plant and hundreds of employees. Nor could they be certain of the specific location for the command center for Skondia’s destruction. For all they knew, it could be hidden in an underground ice chamber miles from the facility. The Razan’s Ronins Command Staff decided that a manned assault offered the best chance of success, without an interplanetary outcry if they were wrong. The men were seated on their heavy rucksacks, wearing parachutes, and were engaged in completing jumpmaster inspections. The rucksacks were full of survival gear and ammunition for whatever weapon each member carried. KAGE suits mounted a MagShot, a ten-pound deadly killer weapon that integrated an automatic twelve-gauge shotgun, a 5.56-millimeter automatic rifle with sniper scope. The assault teams from the Kanazuchi Squad carried a large-bore barrel in the center that fired small coherent light beam that reached several thousand degrees with deadly results at the slightest impact. Some squads mounted machines and flamers. The spare magazines, shotgun shells, energy packs, fuel cells and shrapnel missiles weighed nearly twenty pounds and were carried in compartments around their waists. Inside each team members visored helmet was a navigation board, complete with a holovid-marine compass and digital altimeter, both clearly visible to the jumper while gliding under his canopy. Kashira Felix Ndang led the Ronins’ Raiden Tsunami battle armor squad, while Kashira Mya Vu was in command of the assault Kanazuchi battle armor squad. Lieutenant Lexi Shamer and her two jump infantry platoon, which had aided Dragon Scale Lance in in securing the SpacePort, was also part of the assault force. The combined group was under the command of Chu-i Tanaka, a Droconis Elite Strike Team veteran who had been about to return to Terra on leave with his girlfriend enjoying the Football Game in South Atropia, when he was whisked away on a minute’s notice to take command of the elite makeshift assault unit. It had to be the first time in the Razan’s Ronins brief history that separate special units were merged to fight as one. For this mission, every man would be utilizing a new ram-air parachute system for the first time, called the MT-1Z or Zulu. With a four-to-one lift-to-drag ratio, the canopy could travel four meters horizontally for every meter descended, an advantage that did not go unappreciated among the four teams. Tanaka scanned the two rows of men. The nearest non-comm, Ionela Bretan, tilted her head and grinned. A red-haired wit with a gross sense of humor, and an old friend, she was one of the few who actually looked forward to the suicidal plunge. Ionela had been “chasing airplanes” for years, achieving the status of Military Free Fall Instructor at the MRBC’s prestigious Special Forces Military Free Fall School in Yuma, Gates. When not off on a mission or training, Ionela could be found skydiving with civilians for the fun of it. Tanaka had barely had time to glance at service records of Shamer and Deyama, the commanders over the two Minutemen platoons, but he knew they were the best of the best turned out by Living Dragon Raising for jump infantry missions. Though he was an old Army man, he well knew the battle armor and jump infantry teams were among the finest fighting men in the Inner Sphere. As he looked from face to face, he thought that if they survived the jump and glide to the target site, they then had the Phalanx Battle Armor’s security force to contend with. A well-armed and trained small army of fanatics, he was told, many of whom had served the very same forces as the men on the chopper. No, Tanaka concluded. This would be no picnic. “How soon?” Ndang asked tersely. “Less than an hour,” Tanaka answered, moving down the line of men and women alerting Shamer and Deyama. Then he stood in the middle of the united fighting men and gave them final instructions. Satellite aerial photos were carried by everyone in a compartment of their armored suits, to be studied once they had fallen into the clear and opened their canopies. Their target landing site was a large ice field just outside the underground facility, whose broken, uneven landscape offered them a small degree of protection when regrouping after the jump. The next part of the plan was the assault on the main engineering center of the facility, where it was hoped the doomsday controls were housed. Expert military minds judged that fewer casualties would occur if they landed and attacked from the outside rather than landing in the maze of buildings, antennas, machinery, and electrical equipment. Coordination was to take place once each unit was on the ground and assembled for the assault. Any one who was injured upon landing would have to suffer the cold and be dealt with later, after the facility had been secured and any systems or equipment that were designed to separate the ice shelf destroyed. Satisfied that each man knew what was expected of him, Tanaka moved to the rear of the cargo bay and donned his parachute and rucksack. Then he had one of Ionela’s men give him a complete jumpmaster inspection, with emphasis on his oxygen-breathing helmet for the long fall. Finally, he silhouetted himself with his back to the closed cargo ramp in the floor and waved his hands to get the men’s attention. From this point on, communication with the entire assault team would be conducted by hand and arm signals, which was standard operating procedure. The only voice communications until the jump would be between Tanaka, Ndang, Vu, Shamar, Deyama, and Afrane in the cockpit. Once they exited the VTOL and were under canopy, each man could communicate with individual throat mics over secure frequencies. “Pilot, this is the jumpmaster.” “I read you, Chu-i,” came back Afrane’s voice. “Ready on the mark?” “Jumpmaster checks complete. Oxygen prebreathing is under way.” Tanaka took an empty seat and studied the men. So far, it was going well, almost too well, he thought. This is the time when Murphy’s Law came sneaking around, and Tanaka wasn’t about to allow Mr. Murphy any opportunities. He was pleased to see the men were fully alert and primed. They wore hoods under their battle helmets to gain additional protection from the harsh subzero temperatures. Galeforce yellow-lens for fog and overcast were attached to the helmets, resting up and leaving the men’s eyes clearly visible to Tanaka and the oxygen technician so they could check for any signs of hypoxia. The heating units in their battle suits were activated, and each man checked his buddy to make certain that all equipment was properly organized and in place. Bungee cords and web straps were strategically laced around each man’s clothing and equipment to prevent them from being torn away by the great burst of air expected upon their exit from the ramp. After they checked their radios to confirm that each was transmitting and receiving, Tanaka stood up and moved near the closed ramp. Facing his assault force again, he saw that all the men were giving him their undivided attention. Once again, he motioned to the man nearest his left with a thumbs-up signal. WORD COUNT 2482 Edited by Oni, 31 August 2016 - 07:28 PM. Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #58 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #58] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points Posted 31 August 2016 - 09:43 AM DC-RD-06-02 #58 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island 20th March 3093 16:50:00 Local In the cockpit, carefully studying his computerized course and the programmed target, Kashira Afrane was concentrating his mind and soul on dropping the men waiting aft over the precise spot that would give them every chance of surviving. His primary concern was not to send them out ten seconds too early or five seconds too late and scatter them all over the frozen landscape. He disengaged the automatic pilot and turned the controls over to Antonucci so his perspective and timing would not be diverted. Afrane switched to the cockpit intercom and spoke through his oxygen mask to Antonucci. “Deviate one degree and it will cost them.” “I’ll put them over the target,” Antonucci said self-assuredly. “But you have to put them on it.” “No confidence in your VTOL commander’s navigational abilities? Shame on you.” “A thousand pardons, my Kashira.” “That’s better,” Afrane said expansively. He switched to the cargo bay intercom. “Chu-i Tanaka, are you ready?” “Roger,” Tanaka answered briefly. “Crew, are you ready?” The crewmen, wearing harnesses attached to cargo tie-down rings and portable oxygen systems, were standing a few feet forward of the ramp on opposite sides. “Gunsho Ahmad ready, Kashira.” “Go-chu Farid ready, sir.” “Twenty-minute warning, Chu-i,” Afrane announced. “Depressurizing cabin at this time.” Ahmad and Farid moved cautiously close to the ramp, carefully guiding their harness anchor lines, following checklists and preparing for what was about to become one of the most unusual duties of their military careers. As the cabin decompressed, the men could feel the temperature drop, even within the protective confines of their electrically heated battle armor. The air hissed from the cargo bay as it slowly equalized with the outside atmosphere. Time passed quickly. And then Afrane’s voice came over the intercom. “Chu-i, ten-minute warning.” “Roger.” There was a pause, then Tanaka asked sarcastically, “Can you give us any more heat back here?” “Didn’t I tell you?” Afrane replied. “We need ice for cocktails after you leave.” For the next two minutes, Tanaka went over the infiltration plan of the underground facility in his mind. They were combining the elements of a high-altitude, low-canopy opening jump with a high-altitude, high-canopy opening jump to keep detection to a minimum. The plan was for the team to free-fall to 25,000 feet, open their canopies, assemble in the air, and fly to the target landing zone. Razan’s Ronins’ battle armor squads would exit first, closely followed by Shamar and her Minutemen jump platoon, and then by Deyama and the second Minutemen platoon. Tanaka’s DEST team would be the last platoon to jump, in order to have an overview of his men and be in the most advantageous position to give course corrections. Ndang would be the Mother Hen, the term tagged to the lead jumper. All of the Ducks in Line would then follow. Where Ndang went, so would they. “Six minutes to jump,” came Afrane’s voice, interrupting Tanaka’s thoughts. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island 20th March 3093 16:55:00 Local Afrane’s eyes were on the computer monitor, linked to a newly installed photo system that revealed the ground in astonishing detail through the clouds. Antonucci handled the big 60 ton VTOL as tenderly as if it were a child, her course rock-steady on the line that traveled across the monitor, with a small circle depicting the jump target. “Damn the orders!” Afrane suddenly snorted. “Antonucci!” “Sir?” “At the one-minute warning, cut our airspeed to 75 knots indicated. I’m going to give those guys every chance at surviving I can. When Gunsho Ahmad reports that the last man has jumped, ease the throttles to one hundred twenty knots.” “Won’t the Free Skondia Mutineers ground radar pick up our reduction in speed?” “Radio McMurdo Station on an open frequency. Then say we’re experiencing engine trouble, will have to reduce speed and arrive late.” “Not a bad cover,” Antonucci conceded. “If they’re monitoring us on the ground, they’d have no reason not to buy the story.” Antonucci went on her radio and announced the deception to anyone who was listening. Then she gestured at the numerals flashing on the computer monitor indicating the approaching jump mark. “Two minutes coming up.” Afrane nodded. “Begin reducing speed, very gradually. At one minute to drop, just after I ring the bell, cut the airspeed to 75.” Antonucci flexed her fingers like a piano player and smiled. “I shall orchestrate the throttles like a concerto.” Afrane switched to the cargo bay intercom. “Two minutes, Chu-i. Gunsho Ahmad, begin opening the ramp.” “Ramp opening,” came back Ahmad’s steady voice. After monitoring the transmission, Tanaka stood up and moved to the port side of the ramp, keeping his back turned to one side of the fuselage so he had a clear view of his men, the jump/caution lights, and the ramp. He raised and extended his right arm in an arc, palm facing from his side to a perpendicular position. This was the command to stand up. The men rose from their seats and stood, checking their rip cords and equipment again, adjusting the heavy rucksacks they wore to the rear below their main parachute container. The huge ramp began to creep open, allowing a great rush of frigid air to sweep through the cargo bay. The next seconds passed with cruel sluggishness. In grim determination, they gripped the steel anchor line cables with armored hands for support against the immense whirlwind they expected when the ramp fully opened, and as guides as they moved to the edge of the ramp to execute their exit. Although they exchanged self-assured glances, it was as if they didn’t see their buddies around them. No words were needed to describe what they would experience once the ramp opened, and they dove into air so cold it was unimaginable. ……………………. In the cockpit, Afrane turned to Antonucci. “I’ll take the controls now, so I can concentrate on timing. The throttles are yours.” Antonucci raised both her hands. “She’s all yours, Cap.” “Cap? Cap?” Afrane repeated as if in pain. “Can’t you show me at least a smidgen of respect?” Then he switched the intercom aft. “One-minute warning, Chu-i.” WORD COUNT 1084 Edited by Oni, 31 August 2016 - 07:29 PM. Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #59 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #59] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV Posted 31 August 2016 - 10:51 AM DC-RD-06-02 #59 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Kessel Province Ampheres Island Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 13:30:00 Local The pilot lined up the Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineers’s aerospace fighter for his approach and settled down on the long ice runway without the slightest hint of a bump. The fighter, was a custom-built Defiance Deathstalker twin-engine aerospace fighter with no markings or identification numbers on its fuselage, wings, or tail. It was painted white and blended in with the snowy landscape, as it taxied toward what looked like a steep cliff against a high mountain covered with ice. When the aerospace fighter was less than two hundred yards from smashing into the mountain, the ice cliff miraculously parted, revealing a vast grottolike interior. The pilot slowly pulled back on the throttles, bringing the aerospace fighter to a stop in the middle of the hangar, which slave labor had carved out of the mountain nearly sixty years earlier. The aerospace fighter engines whined briefly, before their turbines decreased their rotation and slowly came to a quiet rest. Behind, the ponderous ice doors closed on a series of solid rubber wheels. There were two other aircraft parked in the hangar, both Mitchell Interstellar military versions of the Colossus-Class DropShip. One was capable of carrying 984 bay personnel, seventy-two heavy vehicles, thirty-six BattleMechs, twelve infantry platoons, and one thousand fifty-six tons of freight. The other had been built purely as a cargo carrier. Both had maintenance men checking over the engines and filling the fuel tanks for the coming evacuation of Free Skondia Mutineer personnel to the safety of the big WarShip waiting within the safety of the Skondia’s orbit. The great hangar was a beehive of quiet activity. Workers in the various Free Skondia Mutineers colored uniforms moved silently, conversing softly, as they packed the hundred or more wooden crates with the artifacts and equipment of Ampheres Island Compound, along with the looted weapons from the Star League era and the sacred Amaris relics, all being readied for transportation to the Glorious Fate. Fifty six Troopers in the standard Free Skondia Mutineers black security uniform stood at attention as General Sathen Sakamoto, along with Lieutenant Colonel Renn, exited the aircraft. He was wearing Alpine ski pants and a big suede jacket lined with alpaca wool. Renn was dressed in a one-piece ski suit under a knee-length fur coat. The man who directed the transportation project waited at the bottom of the boarding steps as they stepped to the ground. “General Sathen, Lieutenant Colonel Renn, you do us an honor by coming.” “Major Horst,” Sathen greeted him. “I felt it my duty to observe the doomsday system in its final stages.” “An hour that is near at hand,” Renn added proudly. “How goes the evacuation?” asked Sathen. “Cargo and passengers are scheduled to arrive on the Glorious Fate ten hours before the cataclysm,” Major Horst assured him. Then Majors Jesup and Blondi, stepped forward to greet them. They took turns kneeling. “Welcome back to Valhalla,” Blondi greeted Sathen. “Other business has kept me away too long,” said Sathen. Jesup, who was the chief of the Free Skondia Mutineers security force, gestured toward a small electric automobile, one of a fleet of utility and heavy-equipment vehicles that ran on batteries, to prevent a buildup of carbon monoxide inside the underground caverns. “We’ll take you to the control center, where you can see for yourself how we begin the end of the old Skondia.” “After I inspect your guards,” said Sathen. Trailed by Renn, he walked down the line of security guards in their black uniforms, who stood ramrod straight, with their Magnum automatics strapped to their hips and TK Assault rifles slung over their shoulders. He stopped occasionally and asked a guard his nationality and military history. When he reached the end of the line, he nodded in satisfaction. “An intrepid division of men. You’ve done well, Jesup. They look like they can handle any intrusion.” “Their orders are to shoot to kill any unidentified intruder that enters our perimeter.” “I hope they perform with greater efficiency than the Major General’s men at the industrial safehouse.” “There will be no failure at this end,” Jesup said firmly. “I promise you, General.” “Any sign of encroachment?” “None,” answered Blondi. “Our detection-control unit has seen no activity within a hundred and fifty kilometers of the facility.” Renn looked at her. “One hundred and fifty kilometers does not seem far.” “It’s the distance to Little Bangalore Number Six, the Skondia Ampheres research station. Since the station was built, they’ve shown no interest in our operations. Our aerial surveillance has yet to detect any attempt to trespass onto our facility.” “All is quiet with the heathens,” added Jesup. “They’ll give us no problems.” “I’m not so sure,” said Sathen. “Keep a tight eye on any activity. I fear their intelligence may be on the verge of discovering our secret.” “Any attempt to stop us,” Jesup said confidently, “will come too late. The Movement is inevitable.” “I sincerely pray that will be the case,” said Sathen, as he entered the auto ahead of the women. Usually gallant around the ladies, Sathen came from the old Serbian school where men never yielded to women. The driver of the electric car left the aerospace hangar area and entered a freight elevator that went a quarter mile below the surface. He drove along a tunnel after driving several miles, they entered a vast ice cavern that enclosed a small repair bay with long standing gantries. The high-roofed tunnel that ran from the inner repair bay to the elevator curved gently, allowing assault BattleMechs to navigate the passage while the ice cliffs blocked all view from the outside. Light throughout the complex came from overhead fixtures containing dozens of halogen bulbs. Four submarines and a small cargo transport were moored beside an underwater dock. The entire complex was deserted. The cargo cranes stood abandoned, along with a small fleet of trucks and equipment. There wasn’t a soul to be seen on the docks or the vessels. It was as if their crews had walked off and never returned. “A pity the 5th Battalion that served our venture so efficiently all these years will be lost,” said Renn wistfully. “Perhaps they will survive,” Blondi consoled her. Jesup smiled. “When the time comes, I will personally return to Valhalla to see how they fared. They deserve to be enshrined for their service to the Movement.” The old tunnel that ran several miles through the ice between the hidden dock terminal, the aerospace hangar, and then to the sea-mining extraction facility had also been excavated by slaves from the old Gilbralter Islands, their preserved bodies now frozen in a mass grave on the ice shelf. Since 2985, the tunnel had been expanded and constantly realigned because of the shifting ice. Word Count 1201 ……………….. General Sathen Sakamoto Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineer TN Edited by Murasaki, 31 August 2016 - 10:53 AM. Like This Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #60 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #60] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV Posted 31 August 2016 - 11:35 AM DC-RD-06-02 #60 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Kessel Province Ampheres Island Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 12:15:00 Local In the beginning, the efforts to extract valuable minerals from the sea had proved a dismal failure, but with the nanotechnology revolution pioneered by Eric Drexler in Platinum City, along with his wife Christine Peterson, Free Skondia Mutineers had thrown its immense wealth and resources into a project to control the structure of matter. By rearranging atoms and creating incredibly tiny engines, they had totally reinvented manufacturing processes. Molecular machines could even produce a tree from scratch. Free Skondia Mutineers, however, threw their efforts into extracting valuable minerals such as uranium from seawater, a process they’d achieved and gone on to refine until they were producing a thousand troy ounces of uranium a day from the sea, along with platinum, silver, and many other rare elements. Unlike ore pulled from the ground and then expensively processed by crushers and chemicals, the minerals extracted from the sea came in a nearly pure form. The engineering center of the Free Skondia Mutineers underwater facility was a great domed structure whose interior looked similar to the vast control room at the old Terran NASA space center. Electronic consoles were manned by thirty scientists and engineers who monitored the computerized electronics of the nanotech mining operation. But this day, all operations for the extraction of rare metals from the sea had come to a halt, and all Sakamoto’s personnel were concentrating their efforts on the coming split of the ice shelf. Sathen Sakamoto entered the expansive room and stopped in front of a spacious electronic board that hung from the center of the domed ceiling. In the center, a large map of the Kessel Province was displayed. Around the edges, a series of neonlike tubing distinguished the ice from the surrounding land. The tubing, which stretched from the mining company around the ice shelf and ended three hundred miles from the opposite end, was green. The section from where the green ended was continued in red to the edge of the sea. “The area in red is yet to be programmed?” Sathen asked the chief engineer, Major Jurgen Holtz, who walked up to Sakamoto’s party and gave a sharp nod of his head in greeting. “Yes, that is correct.” Holtz raised a hand and gestured at the board. “We are in the process of setting the nuclear triggering devices. We have about another four hundred kilometers to program to the end of the tunnel at the sea.” Sathen studied the constantly changing red letters and numbers on the digital displays spaced around the map. “When is the critical moment?” “The final process for splitting off the ice shelf is timed for seventy two hours . . .” Holtz paused to stare up at a series of numbers showing the time left until doomsday. “Six hours, twenty-two minutes and forty seconds from now.” “Any problems that might cause a delay?” “None we’re aware of. All computerized procedures and their backup systems have been inspected and scrutinized dozens of times. We have yet to find the slightest hint of a possible malfunction.” “An amazing feat of engineering,” Sathen said quietly, while gazing at the colored tubing surrounding the ice shelf. “A pity the world will never know of its existence.” “An amazing feat indeed,” echoed Holtz, “boring a ten-foot-diameter tunnel fourteen hundred miles through the ice in two months.” “The credit goes to you and your engineers who designed and built the molecular tunneling machine,” said Renn, pointing at a large photo on one wall. The picture showed a hundred-foot-long circular boring machine with a thrust ram, a debris conveyor, and a strange-looking unit on the front that pulled apart selected molecular bonds within the ice, producing powder-snow-size chunks small enough to be transported to the rear of the conveyors to the open sea. A secondary unit rebonded the tiny chunks into near-perfect crystalline solid ice that was used to line the tunnel. When in full operation, the tunneler could bore through fifty miles of ice in twenty-four hours. Having accomplished its purpose, the great machine now sat under a growing sheet of ice outside the mining facility. “Perhaps after the ice melts, we’ll have an opportunity to use the tunneler again on subterranean rock,” Sathen said thoughtfully. “You think the ice will melt away?” asked Renn, puzzled. “If our calculations are ninety-five percent correct, this section of the Ampheres will end up eighteen hundred kilometers north of here two months after the cataclysm.” “I’ve never quite understood how all this is going to break off the entire ice shelf and send it out to sea,” said Renn. Sathen smiled. “I’d forgotten that you were in the Free Skondia Mutineers’s ISF intelligence sector on Tikonov for the past three years and were not provided with details of the Valhalla Project.” Holtz held up one hand and pointed to the giant display board. “As simply as I can explain it, Major Fory, our nanocomputerized machine constructed a vast number of molecular replicating assemblers, which in turn constructed over many milMilitia of tiny molecular ice-dissolving machines.” Renn looked pensive. “In other words, the replicated assemblers, through molecular engineering, can create machines that can produce almost anything.” “That’s the beauty of nanotechnology,” replied Holtz. “The replicating assembler can copy itself in a few minutes. In less than twenty-four hours, tons of replicated machines, moving trilMilitia of atoms around, drilled holes into the ice every six inches above and below the tunnel. Once the ice tubes were drilled to a predetermined depth, the nanocomputer closed down all further instructions to the machines. In sixteen hours, the moment our meteorologists have predicted a strong offshore wind in combination with a favorable current, a signal will be sent to launch a nuclear warhead into the tunnel. That will then finish the job of dissolving the ice and separating the shelf from the continent, allowing it to drift out to sea.” “How long will that take?” asked Renn. “Less than two hours,” answered Holtz. “Then ten hours after the final break,” Sathen explained, “the displaced weight of the Ice Shelf will have moved far enough away from the Ampheres Islands to throw off Skondia’s delicately balanced rotation just enough to cause a polar shift in unison with a crust displacement, sending the world into a devastating upheaval.” “A world which we then can reshape into our image,” said Renn vaingloriously. A man in the black uniform of a security guard came rushing out of an office and approached the group. “Sir,” he said to Sathen, handing him a sheet of paper. Sathen’s face darkened for a brief instant, before turning reflective. “What is it?” Renn asked. “A report from Sheikh,” Sathen answered slowly. “It seems an unidentified VTOL is approaching from across the Sea, and refuses to answer our signals.” “Probably the supply helo for the ice station at Little Bangalore,” said Holtz. “Nothing to be concerned about. It flies in and out every ten days.” “Does it always pass over Valhalla?” asked Sathen. “Not directly, but it comes within a few miles as it makes its descent toward the ice station.” Sathen turned to the security guard who had carried the message. “Please tell Major Sheikh to observe the approaching VTOL closely. If it deviates from its normal flight path to Little Bangalore, have him notify me immediately.” “Are you troubled, General?” asked Renn. Sathen looked at her, his face showing traces of concern. “Not troubled, Lieutenant Colonel, merely cautious. I do not trust the heathens.” “Bangalore is a long way away,” said Renn. “It would take a Skondia assault force more than twenty-four hours to assemble and fly over two thousand miles to Fort Eagle.” “Still,” Sathen said patiently, “it pays to be vigilant.” He looked at Holtz. “Should a distraction arise, can the signal to split the ice be sent early?” “Not if we want absolute success,” Holtz replied firmly. “Timing is critical. We must wait until just before the peak of the flood tide to activate the nuclear device. Then the ebb tide will carry the great mass of the ice shelf out to sea.” “Then it appears we have nothing to fear,” said Renn optimistically. Sathen dropped his voice, speaking slowly, softly. “I hope you’re right, Lieutenant Colonel Fory.” At that moment, another security guard approached and passed Sathen a message from Sheikh. He read it, looked up, and smiled faintly. “Sheikh says that the Bangalore supply VTOL is on its normal course ten miles beyond our perimeter and is flying at an altitude of thirty thousand feet.” “Hardly the height to drop an assault team,” said Holtz. “No nation on Skondia would dare fire missiles into our facility without their intelligence agencies penetrating our operation. And none have. Sheikh’s security force has diverted and blocked all outside probes into Valhalla.” “Diverted and blocked,” Sathen repeated. But his mind was not so sure. He recalled one man who had already defied too many of ULTTRA aims, and Sathen could not but wonder where he might be. Word Count 1567 ……………….. General Sathen Sakamoto Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineer TN Like This Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino DC-RD-06-02 #61 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Daimyo Mobile HQ 20th March 3093 15:45:00 Local "The DropShip was spotted in southern Ampheres by a routine KH-11 flyover," the Intelligence Division CO, Chu-i Karen Tsang, said, sliding pictures of the DropShip, being refueled, across the table. "However, when it took off, Bangalore assets say that its transponder codes had been changed. The new transponder codes were picked up by a civilian aircraft headed towards Baibars for refueling. The DropShip was moving east to west, headed in the general direction of the Gilbraltor Islands ." "Gilbraltor?" Tai-sa Onishi Razan said, looking at the picture. "Gilbraltor, Poseidon, Tyrrhenia," Sho-ka Fujinaka said. "That coastline area." "Please not Gilbraltor," the Tai-sa said. "Well, it was headed in that direction," the Intelligence Division CO pointed out. "That doesn't mean it would land there. Our analysts say that the range of a Buccaneer-Class DropShip loaded with only the estimated weight of fifteen coffins and hostages averaging one hundred and sixty-five pounds has an atmospheric range of nearly 3500 miles. That puts it at the edge of range to land in Gilbraltor from Ampheres. Also, obviously, back areas of Poseidon, Tyrrhenia, Athen, what have you, if it turned south and headed down over the sea. The most likely target, however, is either Tyrrhenia or Gilbraltor. We're redirecting what assets we have on the ground to start looking for it in both Island complexes as well as retasking satellite assets to search for it. The Black Ronin has not picked up the satellite phone in use, either to us or others." "So, 'Katana' is out there, somewhere," the Tai-sa said, "maybe alive, maybe dead from the second flight. And so are the hostages. And we don't know where." "We will, Tai-sa," Chu-i Tseng said. "Somebody will give off an electronic emission we can decrypt or track. Just the DropShip taking off again in the footprint of a ferret satellite and we'll know." "What's the status of the Razan’s Ronins?" the Tai-sa asked. "All special mission teams have been dispatched," the Chu-i said. "The Skondia Militia GIA Battlemech Company and the Skondia Garrison have been informed of the nature of the mission. They're working on a series of possible joint operations. If it's Gilbraltor or Tyrrhenia, or even Poseidon, penetration of air-defense networks is going to make the mission tricky. It's going to be hard, for example, to simply sneak a team into Tyrrhenia or Gilbraltor and bring the hostages out. Both have significant Free Skondia Mutineers forces of their own and air defense networks that have holes but not huge ones. We're looking at a series of plans. It all depends on where the DropShip lands or has landed." "But they're ready to go?" the Tai-sa asked. "As ready as they can be without knowing the target," the Chu-i said. "Our Allies in the Skondia Militia GIA Battlemech company on Fort Eagle is dialed in and there's everything from ‘Mech lances to armor lances ready to respond. I've started a movement of DropShips towards the borders of both Gilbraltor and Tyrrhenia in the event we need that much support. Ronin BattleMechs are standing by, aerospace fighters are standing by, Skondia SWAT are standing by and a Marine Amphibious Unit consisting of every hovercraft we could muster has been shifted towards the Island complexes in case we're talking about Gilbraltor." "We need to get some sort of statement out," Akita Fujinaka said. "There's a lot of speculation about these kidnappings and a lot of fury. The families of the hostages suspected of being kidnapped are on all the networks. Most of them are from conservative backgrounds. Some of our people who have been looking at the conservative political boards . . . well, you're looking at a spontaneous war if a planned one doesn't happen. Not to mention this has raised hatred levels back to where they were post-Free Skondia Mutineers Nuclear attack. The liberals aren't reacting the same, of course. They're almost saying it's the hostages' fault." "Typical," the Tai-sa said, letting out an angry breath. "Okay, we need to know what we can say. Our agent in Platinum City was . . . ?" "Not a common citizen," Fujinaka said hastily. "Not just some guy who stumbled on the op and broke it up, although I think that might be what happened. The person has been identified but for reasons of Skondia’s national security and the ongoing kidnapping investigation we cannot reveal his or her—" "His," Reece Kimura said. "The news media has at least that much." "His name," Fujinaka said, nodding. "We're not even willing to discuss the person's connection to Razan’s Ronins except to say that he is a special operations soldier and he was not a member of any Skondia government program. That is, the Skondia government doesn't pay his salary. We also cannot discuss the investigation except to say that it's ongoing and the full assets of the Razan’s Ronins are focused on getting these hostages home safely." ………………………………………………. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Press Conference 20th March 3093 16:00:00 Local "Chu-i Tseng, given all that we spend on intelligence and defense, don't you have any idea where the hostages have been taken?" Tseng leaned forward, her hands on the podium, and looked at the newswoman who had asked the question. "Young lady, is English your birth language?" she asked, her brow crinkling in puzzlement. "Yes," the reporter replied, surprised. It was her first attendance at a Razan’s Ronins press briefing. She had been sent because of the "human interest" in the current hostage crisis and wasn't a regular Mercenary reporter. In fact she'd mostly been sent because she looked as if she would have been a target if she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and her network felt that viewers would, therefore, identify with her. She knew something was going wrong, though, by the faint snorts in the room and how her associate, a regular Mercenary reporter, groaned, then subtly shifted away from her. "And did you go to college?" Tseng asked very slowly and distinctly, as if talking to a four-year-old, in impeccable English, despite her birth language being Japanese. "Yes," she said, her lips thinning in anger. "Then perhaps you could try to parse out a sentence like: 'We cannot discuss the investigation except to say that it's ongoing and the full assets of the Razan’s Ronins Mercenary Mixed Battalion are focused on it.' Do you remember me saying those exact words, young lady? Or are you just drawing pretty pictures in that notebook in your hand? A brief of my comments was handed out in advance. Maybe you should look it over and get help with the tougher words from Bill there. But for those of you who can neither read nor understand simple English, I'll make it simpler. We're not going to discuss the details of the investigation. If that's too complicated, we're not going to talk about what we know. We're not going to talk about what we don't know. We're not going to talk about what we may or may not be planning. We're not even going to discuss what we know about the weather, just in case you manage to divine something from that comment, correct or incorrect, and give it to whoever stole these hostages. Now, young lady, is that clear enough for you or do you have to write it a thousand times on a chalkboard?” "And, by the way, 'given' is the stupidest word a reporter can use. It does not discuss any objective reality of a situation but invariably points to the personal bias of the reporter. And, as we both know, reporters are supposed to be unbiased. Fair and balanced and all that. No one ever says: 'Given that the sky is blue.' They say: 'Given that Razan’s Ronins Mechwarriors eat holo-vid reporters for breakfast.' One is not debatable in rational everyday terms. Sky. Blue. Sometimes gray, but blue if there aren't clouds and it is day. An effect of oxygen in the atmosphere. Scientifically provable. Neither is the second worth everyday debate, it is provably wrong, but it's certainly debated among the press in my experience. So if you're going to continue to attend these briefings, first learn to read, second learn to listen and third, remove the word 'given' from your vocabulary. Otherwise it is 'given' that you will not enjoy yourself. Next question." WORD COUNT 1529 ................. Karen Tsang ‘Logistics Actual’ Chu-i Daimyo Mobile HQ Logistics Lance Steel Dragon Company Coordination RAZAN’S RONINS Edited by Oni, 31 August 2016 - 10:25 PM. Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #62 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #62] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 01 September 2016 - 09:02 AM DC-RD-06-02 #62 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Islands Complex Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 16:45:00 Local In the first couple of minutes after he'd secreted himself on the truck, Gunsho Kevin ‘Katana’ Hsu knew it was a bad idea. In five minutes he knew it was a really bad idea. After the first hour, he wasn't sure he was going to survive the really bad idea. The truck with the hostages in it was led and followed by open trucks mounting a heavy machine gun in the back. He had made it to the top of the slope just before the convoy of vehicles reached it. No time to call in, no time to do anything but pick a good hide position and wait. The road switchbacked right at the top of the hill and for just a moment the left side of the truck was out of sight of the trailing gun-truck. And it was going slow, no more than five miles per hour, as he darted out of the darkness by the side of the road and crouched under the bed of the truck. Container trucks, like this one, had a solid metal support running the length of the container bed. In two places there were narrow gaps, and Kevin grabbed one and swung his body up into it as the truck changed gears to negotiate the turn and descent. He started with his arms and legs wrapped around the metal support but as soon as the truck hit the first pothole his chin slammed into the steel. Then he tried just perching on top but the second time he nearly fell off he rearranged. His stomach was being hammered, his chest was being hammered and given the nature of Island city-state roads it just went on and on. Then the truck got into the flats again and really picked up speed, hurrying down the highway as if there was no tomorrow and slamming over potholes the size of small cars. The best position Kevin could find was with his right hand clutched under the support, his left hand on top, pressing downwards, both legs wrapped around the support and his body flat on it. His balls were being slammed up and down like drumsticks, he was pretty sure he had a crack in his pelvis bone, his chest was being battered, his stomach was being battered but he managed to hold on. He wasn't sure how long he could hold on, but he was going to stay there till he passed out or the truck did something really stupid. At which point he'd either get run over by the truck or the following gun-vehicle. Fortunately, before either event occurred, the truck slowed for another guarded gate. It didn't stop, it was clearly expected, but simply slowed to negotiate the gate, then turned into a large complex. Kevin could see what looked like barracks and a large building of unknown purpose. The truck pulled up to a loading dock at the building and Kevin heard the door opening. Then he saw feet move along the side of the truck, not just the driver but Free Skondia Mutineers Troopers as well. He desperately wanted to get out of this metal hell, but with Free Skondia Mutineers Sentries all around that wasn't likely to occur. Instead he pulled his legs and right arm up and perched on top of the metal like a leopard in a tree. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was one hell of a lot better than being there in a moving vehicle. And he was at least mostly out of sight. He could see Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent feet and legs and that was about all. After a few minutes, the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent dispersed and he took a chance and lowered his head, looking to both sides. The loading area was about forty meters long and a Free Skondia Mutineers Sentry had been stationed at both ends. The right-hand one was back by the loading dock, leaning against the concrete wall and smoking a cigarette. The left-hand one, however, had moved out about ten meters and was standing in what he apparently thought was a military manner. He was carefully watching the darkness beyond the loading dock. Kevin briefly considered trying to sneak past him, but if anyone looked down from the loading dock, likely, or if the guard turned around, also likely, he'd be spotted. Instead he just hung on in his perch and tried to fight going to sleep. Not counting unconsciousness, he was on a solid thirty-six hours so far and sleep beckoned. He'd done longer times both in BUDS and in training, not to mention on operations, but he was still tired. And sore. And hungry. And thirsty. And cold, the thin air meant that it was damned cold. But he'd put up with all of it before and he slowly put all of it out of his mind and concentrated on maintaining vigilance and waiting for an opportunity to egress his current, lousy, condition and find a better position. With his M61A Combat Systems on his back, he couldn't even call in. The unloading seemed interminable but finally they were done. He expected the truck to pull out as soon as the doors closed but it didn't. Instead, the doors behind him, presumably to some sort of warehouse, closed and the two Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent were recalled. He found himself more or less alone in an ill-lit loading dock. He dropped down to the ground, trying not to groan at all the aches and pains he'd acquired, and looked around. Away from the loading dock was an open area, then a chain-link fence about a hundred meters away. There were guard towers along the fence, spaced about three hundred meters apart. To his left was another open area that had the vague look of a helipad. To his right was an open area but he could see the ends of buildings that paralleled the loading area. There was a faint scent of chemicals in the air, harsh with sulfur. He guessed that it was some sort of petroleum processing plant. He moved left, ducking into the shadow of the concrete wall, until he got to the end of the building, then looked around the edge. The building was about a hundred meters long, maybe a bit more, with concrete walls. No windows that he could see. There was another large entrance, as if for cargo, down the wall about halfway and what might have been a personnel entrance at the far end. There was another building, purpose indeterminate, that started about halfway down the main building and was separated from it by a ten meter or so gap. There was no moon and this side of the building was unlit. But the starlight was bright and anyone coming out of the second building with adjusted night vision would see him. Nonetheless, he started down the side of the building, crouched, keeping an eye out for hostiles. When he got about fifteen meters down the wall of the building he noticed a grate in the wall of the building. The floor of the building was, obviously, based on the loading dock, elevated. The grate, however, was at ground level. Kevin stopped by it and leaned in when he heard faint mechanical sounds. There was air coming out, tinged even more strongly with sulfur, and various sounds, all indeterminate. Suddenly, he heard Arabic from the tunnel, quickly fading. Air shaft. But it was below the level of the building. Which was . . . really odd. Unless there was an underground facility. Some sort of facility on top as a cover, underground facility underneath. Chemical smell. It was a covert WMD facility, either research or production. And, now, a place to hold the hostages. The grate was fixed in place with large bolts. There was no way he could figure out to pull it off and he was in view of Buddha and everybody here. For that matter, there was a faint tinge of dusk. He had to find someplace to hide, soon. Like a vampire, he needed to be out of sight by daylight. He moved down the wall of the building, keeping an eye on the grates. Sooner or later, somebody would have to pull a grate for maintenance. And Private ranking mechanics were notoriously sloppy; they'd be just as likely to prop the grate back up as carefully bolt it back in place. Sure enough, as he reached the shadows of the smaller building, purpose unknown, he found a grate that only had two bolts on it. And they were only hand tight. He quickly unscrewed them and then pulled the grate out, quietly. His hand would fit through the bars so he slid into the narrow tunnel, lifted the grate back into place with only one faint ting of metal and put the screws back on hand tight. Now as long as nobody came along and tightened them down, he was golden. The tunnel was large enough for him to twist around and point inward and he did so, then crawled deeper into the blackness. This tunnel was more or less silent, not even a sound of fans. He got well into it, then dropped his assault weapon. He extracted the helmet and crawled back to the opening, keeping an ear out for movement. He slid the helmet forward until the antenna was sticking out of the bars and checked the readout. He had barely any signal but it would have to do. Carefully, he clicked the numbers that were still faintly visible on his forearm and hit send. ---------------------------------------------- Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Daimyo Mobile HQ 20th March 3093 17:05:00 Local "Tseng. That you, ‘Katana’?" "Yes," Kevin said. "Who's this?" " ‘Logistics Actual’. I'm going to be your control for the rest of the mission. You call the number you have; if it's you it automatically transfers to me. What's your status? Where are you?" "I'm not sure," Kevin admitted. "I'm in a base in one of the Island nations. Arabic spoken, not Farsi. There's some sort of large building but it's got facilities underneath it. Big air vents along the walls, down at the bottom of the building, and some chemical smell. I think it's a covert weapons lab. The hostages were taken in the top facility. I don't know their current position. I'm in one of the air vents. East side. There's a smaller building on that side and an open area to the south. Fence and guard towers around the whole thing. Maybe three other buildings to the west but I didn't get a good look." "Wait one," Tseng said. Then: "Right, the Black Ronin has a lock on your signal. You're in a facility called Fort Eagle Gilbraltor Southeast. Suspected WMD site, supposed to be a Free Skondia Mutineer logistics base. You've got about a Regiment of the Free Skondia Mutineers 'elite' on site, so don't get compromised. One point I want to cover. Your ID is being closely held. And don't worry about charges. The Marquees personally said he doesn't care about dead Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents. I was in the briefing when he said it. You are clear of that." "Tell the Marquees 'thank you,'" Kevin said, feeling an immense wave of relief. "That's the good news. The bad news is that we really need to know the exact location of the hostages. Guard force, the whole works. You need to find them for us and report back. Can do?" "That's why they call us 'Shadows,' " Kevin said, quietly. "Hoowah. You know the mission. Watch your back. From now on, we'll be eyeballing from the sky but until we know where the hostages are, more or less exactly, we can't do a blessed thing. Find out." "Roger," Kevin said. "How's your physical condition?" Tseng said. "Got a tad bent on the last flight," Kevin admitted. "Joints are in bad shape. Dehydrated as hell, which doesn't help. Hungry. Tired. The usual. I'll survive." "Okay," Tseng said. "Do what you can. Last item. If you don't report in for twenty-four hours, you will be considered compromised and any mission compromised. If there is a major alert at the base, you will be considered compromised. Don't get compromised." "I won't," Kevin said. "Call us back when you've got a fix on the hostages," Tseng said. "Good luck." "Will do, out here," Kevin replied, killing the call. WORD COUNT 2145 Karen Tsang ‘Logistics Actual’ Chu-i Daimyo Mobile HQ Logistics Lance Steel Dragon Company Coordination RAZAN’S RONINS Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #63 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #63] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points Posted 01 September 2016 - 06:48 PM DC-RD-06-02 #63 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island 20th March 3093 10:45:00 Local An hour and thirty minutes later, Dad and his crew, along with Frank Cash, stood and watched silently as the big red vehicle, belching a black cloud of exhaust into the crystal blue sky, lumbered across the frozen landscape toward the horizon. “I never got Dad’s name,” said Lieutenant Andrew ‘Frenchy’ Fuqua, as he sat hunched over the steering wheel, gazing through the windshield and studying the ice field ahead for cracks and obstacles. Kevin Lawton stood behind Fuqua in the Brunel Dump Truck’s confined chart and control room, studying a topographical map of the ice pack. “The name on an envelope that was sticking out of his pocket read ‘Clive Rustler.’ ” “That is an odd name. Yet it sounds vaguely familiar.” “Whoever,” said Lawton indifferently. “I hope I didn’t step into a minefield when I promised to bring back his off-road vehicle in the same condition he loaned it to us.” “If we put a scratch on it, have him send the bill to the Planetary Marquees.” “Got a heading for me?” Fuqua asked. “Where’s your GPS unit?” “I forgot it in the rush. Besides, they didn’t install a Global Positioning System.” “Just head that way,” Lawton said, pointing vaguely into the distance. Fuqua’s eyebrows rose. “That’s the best you can do?” “No directional instrument ever created can beat an eyeball.” “Your logic defies sanity.” “How long do you think it will take to get there?” Lawton asked. “Sixty miles, at only twenty miles an hour,” Fuqua murmured. “Three hours, if we don’t run into any barriers in the ice and have to detour around them. I only hope we can get there before the assault team. A full-scale attack might force General Sathen Sakamoto to slice off the ice shelf ahead of schedule.” “I have a sour feeling in my stomach that we won’t be as lucky sneaking in here as that Ronin was at the Coven.” “I hope you’re wrong, my friend, because a lot of people are going to be very unhappy if we fail.” ……………………………………… Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island 20th March 3093 11:45:00 Local The sun blazed from an azure blue sky, its intensity tripled by the reflection off the crystallized surface as the big red Brunel Dump Truck crawled over the freeze-dried landscape like a bug over a wrinkled white sheet. Veiled by a gossamer of snow, she trailed a light haze of blue from her twin diesels’ exhaust drifting in the air. The huge wheels crunched loudly as they rolled over the snow and ice, their crude cut tread gripping without slippage. She moved effortlessly, almost majestically, as she was meant to do, created by men who had not lived to see her fulfill their expectations. Fuqua sat comfortably straight in the driver’s seat, and gripping the buslike steering wheel, drove the Dump Truck in a straight line toward a range of mountains looming far off to the horizon. He peered through heavily polarized sunglasses. Snow blindness was an ominous threat in cold climates. It was caused by conjunctival inflammation of the eye by the sun, whose glare reflected a low-spectrum Free Skondia Mutineersviolet ray. Anyone unlucky enough to suffer the malady felt like sand was being rubbed in their eyes, followed by blindness that lasted anywhere from two to four days. Frostbite, though, wasn’t a hazard. The heaters in the Brunel Dump Truck kept the cabins at a respectable sixty-five degrees. Fuqua’s only small but irritating problem was the constant buildup of frost on the three windshields. The window vents did not put out enough air to keep them clear. Though he drove wearing only an Irish-knit wool sweater, he kept his cold-weather clothing nearby, in case he had to leave the Dump Truck for whatever emergency might rear its unwelcome head. As beautiful as the weather looked, anyone familiar with planetary poles knew it could turn deadly in less time than it took to tell about it. According to his research, when added up, more than a hundred and fifty deaths had been recorded in Ampheres since exploration had begun, when a sailor on a tuna ship, had become the first man to step ashore on the continent in 2895. Most were men who had succumbed to the cold, like Major Scoop Falcoin and his party, who’d frozen to death on their return trip after trekking to the South Pole. Others had become lost and wandered aimlessly before they died. Many were killed in aircraft crashes and other unfortunate accidents. Fuqua wasn’t in the mood to expire, certainly not yet; not if he and Lawton were to stop Free Skondia Mutineers from launching a frightful horror on Skondia. Besides manhandling the Brunel Dump Truck over the ice shelf, his first order of business was to get to the underwater habitat as quickly as possible. His handheld GPS was of no use. The geographic display on Fuqua’s unit was incapable of showing his exact position within a thousand miles of the pole. Because the satellites that relayed the position belonged to the military, who had not planned on conducting a war on Ampheres Islands, they were not in orbit over that part of the globe. And one of the three Razan’s Ronins satellites would not be in position for at least another six hours. He called down to Lawton, who was standing below and behind him, hunched over a chart table studying a map of the Kessel Province. “How about giving me a heading?” “Just keep the front end of this geriatric antique aimed toward the highest peak of those mountains dead ahead. And, oh yes, be sure to keep the ocean on your left.” “Keep the ocean on my left,” Fuqua repeated in exasperation. “Well, we certainly don’t want to run off the edge and drown, do we?” “What if the weather closes in and we can’t see?” “You want a heading,” Lawton said cynically. “Pick any compass direction you want. You’ve got three hundred and sixty choices.” “I stand chastised,” Fuqua said wearily. “My mind was elsewhere. I’d forgotten that all compass readings up here point south.” “You’ll never get on the Jeopardy 3093.” “Most of the category questions are beyond my meager mental capacity anyway.” He turned to Lawton and made a shifty grin. “I’ll bet you tell bloody horror bedtime stories to little children.” Lawton looked at Fuqua, trying to decipher his meaning. “I what?” “The cliffs at the edge of the Kessel Province reach two hundred feet above and nine hundred feet below the surface of the sea. From the top edge to the sea is a sheer drop. We drive off the ledge, there won’t be enough left of us to sail anywhere.” “You have a point,” Lawton grudgingly conceded. “Besides falling into a bottomless crevasse or becoming lost and freezing to death in a blizzard, our only other dilemma is if the ice we’re driving on breaks loose or calves and carries us out to sea. Then all we’ll be able to do is sit and wait for a cataclysmic tidal wave launched by the polar shift to sweep us away.” “You should talk,” Lawton said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Your bedtime stories make mine sound like Mother Goose science fiction tales.” “The skies are darkening,” Fuqua said, staring upward through the windshield. “Do you still think we can make it in time?” asked Lawton. Fuqua glanced down at the odometer. “We’ve come twenty-one miles in the last hour. Barring unforeseen delays, we should be there in just less than two hours.” They had to make it in time. If the special assault team failed, then he and Lawton were the only hope, as adequate for the job as any two men seemed. Fuqua did not bask in an aura of optimism. He well knew the terrain ahead was fraught with obstacles. His biggest fears were rotting ice and crevasses seen too late. If he wasn’t constantly alert, he could drive the Brunel Dump Truck into a deep crevasse and send it plunging hundreds of feet into the sea below. So far, the frozen wasteland lay fairly flat. Except for thousands of ripples and ruts like those found in a farmer’s plowed field, the ride was reasonably smooth. Occasionally, he’d spot a crevasse hiding in the ice ahead. After a quick stop to appraise the situation, he’d find a way to detour around it. The thought that he was driving a hundred fifty-ton lethargic monster of steel across an icy plain with deep fissures looming unseen in every direction was not comforting. Few words in a dictionary could describe the feeling. Suddenly, a crack in the ice became visible, but only after he was almost on top of it. With a hard twist of the wheel, he slewed the Brunel Dump Truck around sideways, stopping it within five feet of the edge. After driving parallel to the chasm for half a mile, he finally found a firm surface five hundred yards from where it vanished in the ice. He glanced at the speedometer and noted that the speed had slowly crept up to twenty-four miles an hour. Lawton, down in the engine room, was fussing with the two big diesel engines, delicately adjusting the valves on the fuel intake pumps and increasing the flow. Because Skondia’s air is thinner at the poles due to a faster rate of spin, and because it is extremely dry and cold, the fuel ratio needed to be reset, a chore Dad and his crew had not yet performed. Fuel injection was constant on newer diesel engines, but on the sixty-year-old Cummins, the fuel flow to the injectors could be altered. The frozen desert ahead was bleak, desolate and menacing, while at the same time a landscape of beauty and magnificence. It could be tranquil one moment and frightening the next. In Fuqua’s mind, it suddenly became frightening. His feet stomped the brake and clutch of the Brunel Dump Truck, and he watched stunned as a crevasse no more than a hundred feet away opened and spread apart, the crack stretching as far as he could see in both directions across the ice pack. Dropping down the ladder from the control cabin, he threw open the entry door, stepped outside, and walked to the edge of the crevasse. It was a terrifying sight. The color of the ice on the sides that fell out of sight turned from white at the edge of a beautiful silver-green. Its gap spanned almost twenty feet. He turned as he heard the crunch of Lawton’s feet behind him. ................. Lieutenant Andrew Fuqua callsign: 'Frenchy' Nighthawk Special Forces Skondia SWAT SAS STAR LEAGUE WORD COUNT 1841 Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS #64 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #64] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points Posted 01 September 2016 - 07:04 PM DC-RD-06-02 #64 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island 20th March 3093 12:15:00 Local “What now?” questioned Kevin Lawton. “This thing must run forever.” “Frank Cash mentioned that the wheels could retract to cross a crevasse. Let’s check out the operation manual that Dad gave us.” As Dad had told them, the Brunel Dump Truck’s designer, had come up with an ingenious solution for the crevasse problem. The underside of the Dump Truck’s belly was flat like a ski, with a front and rear overhang of eighteen feet on both ends from the wheels. Following the instructions in the manual, Fuqua pressed the levers that retracted the front wheels vertically until they were level with the body. Then, using the twin sets of rear wheels for traction, he drove the Dump Truck slowly forward until the front section slid across the crevasse and rolled past the opposite edge a safe distance for stability. Next Fuqua extended the front wheels and retracted the wheels in the rear. Now using the front-wheel drive, the rear half of the Dump Truck was pulled the rest of the way over the chasm. After, extending the rear wheels, they were on their way again. “I do believe I’d call that a brilliant innovation,” Lawton said admiringly. Fuqua shifted gears and turned the bow of the Brunel Dump Truck back toward the peak that had expanded into a range of mountains. “Amazing how he could be farsighted on one mechanism and yet badly underestimate the gearing and tire tread.” “No one is flawless. Except me, of course.” Fuqua accepted the bluster with practiced patience. “Of course.” Lawton took the manual with him into the engine compartment, but not before pointing to the twin temperature gauges on the instrument panel. “The engines are running hotter than normal. Better keep an eye on them.” “How can they run hot when it’s twenty degrees below zero outside?” Fuqua queried. “Because their radiators are not exposed. They’re mounted directly in front of the engines inside the compartment. It’s almost as if they overheat themselves.” Fuqua had hoped darkness would cloak their arrival at the mining compound, but at this time of year in the Ampheres region, the sunset had barely occurred before it was dawn again. He didn’t fool himself into thinking they could infiltrate the facility without being detected, certainly not in a gargantuan fire-engine-red vehicle. He knew he’d have to think of something in the next hour and a half. Soon, very soon, if Peter Starns intel was correct the entrance of the habitat would appear on the horizon along the base of the mountains. He began to feel a tinge of hope, but then, as if an unseen force was working against him, the atmosphere grew heavy and congealed like a lace curtain. The wind suddenly swept in from the interior of the islands with the force of a tidal wave. One minute, Fuqua could see for sixty miles; the next it was as though he was gazing through a film of water, fluid in motion, iridescent and ephemeral. The sky was gone in the blink of an eye and the sun totally blotted out, as the wind charged over the ice shelf like a raging monster. The world became a swirling pall of pure white. He kept the accelerator pressed to the metal floor and clenched the steering wheel, not turning it, keeping the big vehicle moving in a straight line. They were in a hurry, and no tempestuous behavior from Mother Nature was going to slow them down. A man wanders in circles during a whiteout, not because he’s right-handed and tends to go in that direction, but because almost all humans unknowingly have one leg that is a millimeter shorter than the other. The same factor held true with the Brunel Dump Truck. None of the tires had come out of the mold symmetrically perfect with each other. If the steering wheel was locked in place while the vehicle was moving straight, it would gradually begin turning in an arc. Nothing held substance. It was as if the world no longer existed. The gale-force windstorm seemed to drain the color out of everything. The ice storm swirled and gusted with such force that the driving hail of ice particles bombarded the windshield like tiny nails. Their impact against the glass came like a crescendo of clicking sounds. Fuqua felt himself idly wondering if the onslaught would mar the old prewar safety glass. He lurched forward as the Brunel Dump Truck bounced over a frozen ice ridge unseen under the white maelstrom. He braced for a second bump, but it never came. The ice ran smooth. The old line “It never rains but it pours” flashed through Fuqua’s mind when Lawton shouted through the hatch from the engine compartment, “Check your gauges. The engines are still running hot. With no air circulation down here, I have steam coming out of the radiator overflow tubes.” Fuqua stared at the temperature gauges on the instrument panel. He’d spent so much effort concentrating on keeping the great vehicle moving on an undeviating course, he’d neglected to check the gauges. Oil pressure was slightly low, but the water temperatures were already crossing into the red zone. In less time than it takes to boil an egg, the radiators would boil over and blow a water hose from the engine. After that, there was no way of telling how long the engines would turn until their pistons burned and froze inside the cylinders. Already, he could hear the engines beginning to misfire as combustion occurred early from the acute heat. “Throw on your cold-weather gear,” Fuqua shouted. “When you’re ready, open the outside door. The flood of cold air should cool down the engines.” “And freeze us into Popsicles at the same time,” Lawton came back. “We’ll have to suffer until they’re running at normal temperatures again.” Both men donned their heavy-weather coveralls and hooded parkas again, Fuqua struggling with the heavy clothing while he kept the Dump Truck on a steady course through the storm. When they were fully dressed and fortified for the cold, Lawton opened the door. A howling chaos surged into the control cabin, the wind moaning and screaming as it whipped through the doorway. Fuqua huddled over the steering wheel and stared through half-screwed-shut eyes as the blast of cold flung itself into the control cabin with a banshee shriek that drowned out all sounds from the diesel engines. He could not have envisioned the profound shock that came from having the temperature inside the cabin drop eighty degrees within thirty seconds. When a human is appropriately clothed for extreme cold, he can endure temperatures of 120 degrees below freezing for twenty to thirty minutes at a time without suffering injury. But when the windchill factor adds another fifty degrees to the temperature, the drastic frigidness can kill within a few short minutes. Fuqua’s cold-weather clothing could protect him from mere cold, but the chill from the gale sucked the body heat right out of him. Down in the engine compartment, Lawton sat between the two engines and savored what little heat he could soak up from the exhaust heaters and the radiator fans. He was deeply concerned about how Fuqua could survive until the engine temperatures dropped. There was no more communication. The screaming wind made voice contact impossible. ................. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island 20th March 3093 12:45:00 Local The next few minutes were the longest Fuqua had ever spent. He had never known such cold. It felt as if the wind went right through him, cutting his insides as it traveled. He stared at the needles on the engine temperature gauges and saw them drop with agonizing slowness. The ice crystals smashed into the windshields like a never-ending swarm. They hurtled through the door and into the control cabin, quickly covering Fuqua and the instrument panel in a white glaze. The heater could no longer cope with the frozen air, and the inside of the windshield quickly frosted over, while the wipers on the outside were overwhelmed and soon became locked in a thickening blanket of ice. Unable to see past the steering wheel, Fuqua sat like a rock as the torrent of white curled around him. He felt as though he were being swallowed by a ghost with thousands of tiny teeth. He clenched his own teeth to keep them from chattering. Fighting forces far beyond his control, and realizing that he might be responsible for saving milMilitia of lives, was not pleasant, but it drove him to stay the course against the screaming wind and stinging ice. What frightened him most was the prospect of driving into a crevasse that was impossible to see before it was too late. The sane thing to do was to slow the Brunel Dump Truck to a snail’s crawl and send Lawton ahead to test the ice, but besides risking his friend’s life, it would have cost them precious time, and time was an extravagance they did not have. His numbed right foot could no longer move up and down on the accelerator pedal, so he kept it fully pressed down, frozen in place to the floorboard. Their drive across that deceptive and treacherous ice field had turned into a freezing nightmare. There was no point of no return. It was finish the mission or die. The shrieking fury of the ice storm showed no signs of diminishing. Fuqua wiped the thickening veneer of ice from the instrument panel at last. The temperature gauge needles were slowly dropping out of the red now. But if he and Lawton wanted to reach their destination without further interruption, the needles would have to fall another twenty degrees. He was a blind man in a world of the blind. He was even denied a sense of touch. His hands and legs soon went numb, with all feeling lost. His body no longer felt a part of him and refused to respond to his commands. He found it next to impossible to breathe. The bitter cold seared his lungs. The thickening of the blood, the chill seeping through his skin, the stinging pain that was torturing his flesh, despite the insulation of his clothing, drained his strength. He never knew a man could freeze to death so fast. It required a concentrated effort of willpower not to give in and order Lawton to close the door. His bitterness against failing was as strong as the terrible wind. Fuqua had stared the grim reaper in the face before, and he had spat on him. As long as he was still breathing and able to think straight, he still had a chance. If only the wind would die. He knew that storms could vanish as quickly as they were Why can’t this one die? he implored no one but himself. A horrible emptiness settled over him. His vision was darkening around the edges of his eyes, and still those vexing needles hadn’t wavered into the normal temperature range. He did not exist by any preposterous illusion of hope. He believed in himself and in Lawton and in luck. The Almighty could come along, too, if He was agreeable. Fuqua had no wish to welcome the great beyond with open arms. He’d always believed he’d demons, fighting to the end. The jury was still out on whether his good virtues outweighed the bad. The only undeniable, uncontested reality was that he had little to say in the matter and was within minutes of freezing into a block of ice. If there was a purpose for adversity, Fuqua was damned if he knew what it was. Somewhere beyond it all, he stepped from being a mere mortal to a man outside himself. His mind was still clear, still capable of weighing the odds and the consequences. He pushed back the dark nightmare that was closing in on him. Suffering and foreboding no longer had meaning for him. He refused to accept an inevitable end. Any thought of dying became abhorrent and stillborn. He almost gave way to an overpowering instinct to throw in the towel and surrender, but steeled himself to hold out another ten minutes. There was never a doubt in his mind that he and Lawton would see it through together, nor was there a moment of panic. Save the engines, save himself, and then save the world. That was the line of priority. He rubbed the frost from his glasses and saw that the needles on the gauge were falling faster and rapidly approaching their normal operating temperature. Twenty more seconds, he told himself, then another twenty. What was the old ditty, “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall”? Then came relief and exultation, as the temperature gauges registered nearly normal again. There was no need to shout through the hatch down to Lawton in the engine compartment. The little Englishman sensed when the time was ripe by placing a hand momentarily on the top of a radiator. He slammed shut the door, sealing off the frightful force of wind and ice, but not before throwing the interior heater switches as high as they could go. Then he rushed up to the control cabin and roughly pulled Fuqua from behind the steering wheel. “You’ve done enough for the cause,” he said, troubled at seeing Fuqua so close to death from hypothermia. “I’ll help you down to the engine compartment where you can warm up.” “The Brunel Dump Truck. . .” Fuqua barely murmured through frozen lips. “Don’t let it wander.” “Don’t burden yourself. I can drive this mechanical mastodon as well as you.” After setting Fuqua on the floor between the big diesels where he could get warm again, Lawton climbed back into the icy control cabin, sat behind the steering wheel, and engaged first gear. Within sixty seconds, he had the grand vehicle boring through the storm once again at twenty-four miles an hour. The consistent knock of the diesels, running smoothly once again, was more than music to Fuqua’s ears, it was a symbol of renewed hope. Never in his entire life had anything ever felt so good as the warmth that emanated from the engines and was absorbed by his half-frozen body. His blood soon thinned and circulated again, and he allowed himself the luxury of simply relaxing for half an hour while Lawton held the wheel. Almost morbidly, he began to wonder: had the special military force landed? Were they lost and dying in the same treacherous blizzard? ................. Lieutenant Andrew Fuqua callsign: 'Frenchy' Nighthawk Special Forces Skondia SWAT SAS STAR LEAGUE WORD COUNT 2495 Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS #65 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #65] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 01 September 2016 - 12:58 PM DC-RD-06-02 #65 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 17:15:00 Local Gunsho Kevin ‘Katana’ Hsu crawled back to his survival kit and stowed the helmet, then considered his position. He really needed water. And he didn't want to go to sleep in this tunnel, where any sound he made might get carried who knew where. The tunnel continued for about another five meters, then curved ninety degrees downward. Leaving his M61A Laser Rifle Combat System, he scooted forward and looked down. The tunnel continued, with the same width, beyond sight in the faint but growing light from the opening. He fished out his Surefire and checked it again. About ten meters down there was an unmoving fan. From the dust on it, it was nonfunctional and probably hadn't been worked on in some time. There were only two blades and more than enough room to work past. Furthermore, the width of the tunnel meant that he could "chimney" up and down, pressing his hands and feet against the walls to lower and raise himself. He still didn't hear anything from below, no mechanical sounds, no voices. He went back and got his weapon, then lowered himself down the chimney, his rubber soled boots squeaking faintly on the smooth concrete walls. The construction was too good to be local and when he got to the fan and examined it he found German names on it. Good old House Steiner, makers of fine underground lairs for dictators everywhere. It made you nostalgic for the good old days when they were just Lyrans and they only made them for their own dictators. He left his weapon and integral kit on the fan and shimmied past the stuck blades, then lowered himself further into the gloom. He cut his light as he descended in case it got spotted. But there still wasn't any sound from below. Finally, he hit another ninety-degree turn and crawled forward in stygian blackness until his questing hand hit another grate. This one was lighter than the top-side ones and slid out at pressure from his hands. He caught it before it could drop and slid out of the airshaft onto a concrete floor. He turned on his light and flashed it around. Plain concrete corridor with some doors. Nobody in sight. No lights. Ran about thirty meters to a large metal door on the south end. Concrete wall on the north end. He put the grate back on and went to the door at the south. There was faint light coming from under it and he could hear sounds, machinery in the distance, more of a rumble through his feet than anything, and a sudden blat of a PA system announcing something. Going out the door was clearly not an option. He moved down the corridor, to one of the side doors on the left and tried it. It was unlocked and he cautiously opened it. Broom closet. With a sink. He considered that for a moment and then tried the tap. The water ran brown at first but then cleared up and he drank deeply, then washed his hands and face. The water was probably lousy with pests and he knew he was courting Montezuma's Revenge, but he had to have water and he had drugs to counteract the trots. When he was done, he drank some more then left. The door opposite on the right led to an empty room, maybe some sort of unused office. The next one down on the left was locked with a padlock and hasp. The opposite door was another empty office. The last one on the left was unlocked and had a variety of crates and cardboard boxes stacked in it as well as a couple of toolboxes. He opened one of the toolboxes and was happy as hell to find a big damned adjusting wrench. Getting in the other grates just got easier. There was also a crowbar and he started putting that to work on the crates. Military uniforms, some of them gaudily ornate. Why in the world would anyone have a purple camouflage field uniform? One of the bottom crates turned out to be full of old Rasalhague chemical uniforms, the horrible rubber kind. There was also a box of old gas masks. Both were an ominous sight, but the gas mask filters, at least, were sealed and might still be useable. There were some boxes of just junk from offices, pens that didn't work anymore, paper covered in Marik writing. Forms. There was a box of monorail flares, though. His penlight was going to run out of light sooner or later; the flares might come in handy. He gathered a few things he thought might be useful, including the whole box of monorail flares, and put them in a corner, then went out to the airshaft and retrieved his weapon. He pulled stuff out of his survival kit, thoughtfully. He didn't need the noteputer, that's for sure. It was just extra weight. He put that in one of the cardboard boxes. Most of the rest of the stuff he kept and he added some of the monorail flares. When he was done sorting he took the crowbar and went to the locked room. What he wanted to do was open the lock, or pull the hasp, in such a way as it could be made to look as if it was still functional. He inserted the crowbar in the lock and pulled down, hard. The lock was apparently pretty flimsy and it popped open at the first pull without much sound. When he opened the door, though, he had to whistle. "Oh, baby," he muttered, looking around the room: it was an ammo bunker. He could see boxes he recognized as holding powerpacks, the common "laser" round. Lots of those. He hunted around and quickly found a case of a thousand packs of pulse. Standard pulse was not as efficient as the 960 packs in the M61A, but it was ammo. He took ten packs out and stored them in his survival kit then kept hunting. There were cases of frag grenades and he took one. One was usually more than enough with frags. But towards the back he hit real pay dirt: cases of Czech C8 plastic explosive and, in a clear safety violation that made his skin crawl, a case of Skoda detonators stacked on top. Skoda weren't as good as NONEL, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He pulled open a case of C8 and stuffed his kit with about ten kilos of one of the best and most stable high explosives in the Inner Sphere, then carefully pulled out a handful of detonators in protective sleeves and, in another safety violation that made his skin, not to mention balls, crawl, put them in his pocket. He knew that the mission was just to find the hostages. But . . . having the capability to really blow the shit out of the place, not to mention plenty of ammo, finally, just made him happy-happy. At the last minute, he grabbed a few more blocks of C8, just to be sure. There was never such a thing as "too much demo" in his opinion. He carefully covered up his pilfering and reset the lock so it looked as if it was locked, then moved back to his hide. Once there he thought about what he could do next. He hadn't gotten much of a look at the local workers, but his stubble was getting to proper lengths and if he could just find some material he could tie a keffieh to cover his hair. Pants were still wrong. One of the crates of uniforms, however, had been filled with khaki uniforms and he pulled that one back open and sorted through them until he found a pair of pants that were too big. That was better than too small so he pulled it out and rubbed it around on the dust of the floor. A little crawling would get it properly dirty so he'd look like a local. He put that on, using some string from one of the boxes of office supplies as a belt. He needed some cheap plastic shoes so he could stuff his feet in them and push the heel down like slippers. And a ratty polo shirt. Then he'd look like a local, he was pretty sure. He was wearing a black T-shirt, unadorned, and that was sort of good and bad. Black was pretty common among the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents but not among the workers, at least in T-shirts, and it showed his build. But. One of the khaki blouses worked to cover his build. He cut the bottom of the pants while he was at it and frayed the ends then worked some holes into it and frayed those. Now he looked like either a thirty-first century teenager or an oppressed local worker. He hoped. All except his shoes, which were just too good. And his hair, which was too short and cut wrong. He knew he had to leave the hide, but not yet. It would be too light up top and no way to move around. Getting out the door to the corridor was problematic as well. So he had to wait and he might as well use the time wisely. Sleep beckoned, but there were more things he could do. He lit one of the monorail flares, turned off his penlight and got to work. He took out the C8 and rolled it out on the ground into sheets about a half an inch thick using one of the monorail flares. Then he pulled out some more uniforms and cut them up for the cloth. Using the sewing kit from his survival kit, he sewed a sort of harness that would go over his shoulders and around his middle and then stuffed the rolled-out C8, with paper separating the sheets, into a sort of bag in the harness. This gave him about ten kilos of high explosive strapped to his stomach. It made him look fat but with some prodding and pressing to get it in place, it didn't really show otherwise. The detonators were then broken up and strapped to his calves with rigger tape. He always carried a small, half used, roll in his kit. Rigger tape had thousands of uses. Now all he needed was an appropriate target and some electrical current. He replaced his empty powerpacks with regular pulse and secured all of them, and the M61A, under the khaki jacket along with a few of the flares. He had to break the Combat Systm down for it not to really show, but he could work with that given the situation. He went to the broom closet again and filled his bottle with water, then drank and drank and drank. Before he filled himself up totally he took some more Pepcid and ibuprofen along with three Imodium AD. Three Imodium would stop up an elephant, but he figured he was going to have worse problems than constipation and the opposite would be a nightmare. No food but you could go a lot longer with no food than with no water. He needed to carry more with him, but there weren't any really good containers. He took one more drink, then went back to his hide and gathered up all his gear. He was as set as he could imagine, given the situation. He carried the monorail flare back to the air shaft, opened the grate, crawled in, closed the grate and moved back to the vertical bend. Once there he set all his stuff in place, set the alarm on his chronometer for an a hour, put out the flare and lay back to consider the situation. He was reasonably secure, watered up, ammoed up and couldn't do anything until after nightfall. And only maybe then. Tonight he'd find the hostages and hope like hell that wasn't too late. He'd had a busy twenty-four hours and sleep hit him before he realized it was sneaking up. WORD COUNT 2076 ................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #66 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #66] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #66 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:15:00 Local Gunsho Kevin ‘Katana’ Hsu jerked up at the sound of helicopters and banged his head on the low ceiling."Phuk," he muttered, holding his forehead and scooching around in the tunnel. "Shit." He quickly slid into the chimney and shimmied up, interested to see who was coming in by helicopter. There hadn't been any explosions so it probably wasn't good guys. By the time he made it to the opening, all he could see was a line of guards. But there was a tall figure descending from the now stopped helicopter and he was trying to place the face when he heard the crunching of footsteps approaching. He ducked back into the tunnel, quietly, and watched as two set of camouflage covered legs walked past. The butt of an RM-3/XXI was just visible with one of the men. So now there was a roving guard to contend with. As he was beginning to draw back into the tunnel, a man came out of the side building and hurried towards the front of the main building. He was heavyset, somewhat fat looking, with brown hair like HIS OWN, wearing a white lab coat. But what caught Kevin's attention was the gas mask on his hip and the fact that he didn't look like a local. If Kevin ran into him on a city street, he'd have pegged him as a Serbian or a Rasalhaguen. He had that sallow complexion that the Rasalhague men got from too much borscht and vodka. And he didn't move like a local. Skondia men strolled, even when they were strolling fast. They walked with weight centered although sometimes with their head down, putting their legs out in front of them, almost a sashay but not as graceful. FedSunners tended to walk with weight forward, legs and arms pumping, always looking up, as if to push through resistance. Frenchmen didn't swing their arms and kept close personal space to the point of holding hands in public. FedSunners tended to spread out more and it was one reason they tended to find Frenchmen and other Nationalities odd and uncomfortable. The indigenous population of Skondia would get right inside of what FedSunners, and especially Military men, considered to be "personal space" and always appeared a bit effeminate. To the men in the military, it always appeared as if Frenchmen were coming on to them. Kevin wasn't too sure what that said about the respective cultures, but that guy definitely was not local. And with the perimeter guards and all the activity, there was no way he could call in until it was pitch black outside, which should be soon given the absence of any and all shadows. He slid back down to the bottom of the air shaft and tried to be patient. But who knew what was happening to the girls. Nothing good, he was sure. He looked at his watch, willing the night to encroach, and worked some mental exercises. As he was doing that he heard noise from topside and chimneyed up to investigate. A group of soldiers were carrying something towards a truck, with other soldiers gathering around for a look. As the group spread to lift the object into the truck, Kevin got a flash of a limp white arm, a blood-covered torso and light brown hair. Then the body was lifted into the truck and it drove away. "Oh, those muthaphukkahs," he said through gritted teeth. "I am going to so phuk them up." He didn't know how long they had worked on that poor girl, while he had been sleeping! But he knew he was on short time now. But they had to be ready to kill the girls at a moment's notice. And with all the guards and everything else around, whatever happened was going to need something to help it out, a distraction at least. But whatever it was, it had to happen fast. He slid down to his hide again, gathered up his gear, slid on his "harness" and secreted everything he could around his body. Then he moved back up to the entrance and waited, wrench in hand. He timed the guards and they came around on a thirty-minute or so schedule. By the time they came around the next time, it was dark and he waited until their footsteps had dwindled, then undid the bolts and slipped out of the hole. He nearly died of fright when he realized the large side entrance now had sentries on it. He was in shadow but they had to be blind not to notice him. He stayed nonchalant, though, casually replacing the grate and using the wrench to apparently bolt it tight, then moving down the line of grates. He passed around the back of the building, aware that at any moment the perimeter guards might appear, until he hit one of the vents that had a smell of sulfur to it. Then he quickly undid the four bolts holding on the grate and slid into the darkness, pulling the grate shut and attaching only a single bolt. As his hand slid into the darkness of the air shaft he could hear the guards approaching. As soon as he was sure they were clear he slid into the shaft and looked down the drop. This one had a functional fan and he considered how to handle that. However, the power leads were pretty plain, and on top. So he slid down and planted his feet above the spinning blades then carefully undid the power leads with his spanner tool. One of them sparked and shocked him as he was undoing it, but it was only a brief jolt and he even managed to hold onto the tool. He moved the leads to the wall, then put his foot on the blades to stop them spinning as quietly as possible. He slid down the shaft, quietly, watching every move, then shimmied to the grate at the entrance. This one had a filter on it so he couldn't see through. But he also didn't hear anything from the other side. He lifted the filter out on his side then pushed out the grate and lowered it. The room on the far side appeared to be some sort of locker room. He slid out into the room, put the filter and grate back on and looked around. He knew he was on borrowed time, that the girls were on borrowed time, but getting caught was still going to screw things up. Speaking of which, the time Chu-i Karen Tsang gave him was almost up. He should have called in. Too phuking bad. He was busy. Speaking of which, there was a telephone on the wall. He couldn't read Arabic, but he knew the numbers and it had an extension number on it. He picked it up and got a standard dial tone. Hmmm . . . He checked the lockers, which were unlocked, and found a bunch of laundry that really needed washing. On the other hand, there were some shirts that made more sense, locally, than his black T-shirt and he found a perfect pair of shoes and a keffieh rag. In a few moments, he was the perfect image of a modern day major raghead. And what the hell, he had a wrench; a wrench was nearly as good as a clipboard. He balanced the wrench in his right hand, put on an expression of hopeless fatalism, and shuffled to the door. The corridor beyond, as far as he could tell, headed out. But he didn't look around because there were guards at the far end. There was a double set of doors, obviously in frequent use from the dirt, almost across from the locker room. He stepped into them and looked around. Ahah. Even better. The room was filled with chemical suits and respirators. He quickly shucked his clothes and pulled on a chemical suit and mask, then picked the wrench back up and stepped through the far door. He had never been in a chemical plant but this one looked pretty much as he'd envisioned. There was lots of piping on the ceiling and big tanks. There were some people crawling on the tanks and he kept an eye on them as he worked his way along one wall. Suddenly, he heard English and stopped to check a dial. "Can you people not understand the words 'quality control'?" a man shouted in a thick Terran eastern European accent. Kevin ducked his head around the tank he was using for cover and saw his friend from before waving his arms at two other figures in suits. "The temperature has to be kept to precisely one hundred and fifteen degrees Celsius! Not one hundred. Not one fifty! One hundred and fifteen! The entire batch is ruined! Now we have only the original test batch to show! Am I to explain this to your General? He is depending on this to stop the Razan’s Ronins and you have put us back by six months." Interesting, but not really getting him anywhere. Kevin kept moving along the wall, trying to look like a worker who was trying not to work, and headed for the back of the facility. He'd noticed that most of the markings were in French, those wonderful people. Where the Germans just built the bunkers, the French built the chemical plants. And here they were, both of the finest lights of Terra, perfectly represented. The point, though, was that he could quite often decipher what was in the tanks. And when he came to one that was marked, quite clearly, H2SO4, he knew he'd hit pay dirt. A pipe ran out of the bottom of the very large tank to a pump, then went vertical across the high room. Kevin followed the pipe, keeping behind tanks, until he found where it started to split up. He went around to the rear of the room and cautiously removed his chemical suit, hoping like hell that whatever mix they made in this place wasn't filling the air, then pulled out a bunch of the C8 and some detonators. There was a phone conveniently situated near where the pipes branched and, after putting his suit back on, he spent a short time partially disassembling it, then finding some wire in a maintenance area. From time to time he'd look at a gauge or wave his wrench at a pipe, and twice people passed him but paid little or no attention to what he was doing. Finally, he found a ladder and climbed up to the branching, trailing wire behind him. He rigged the C8, most of this bunch, at the branch, then ran the wires from the detonator down behind some pipes to the phone. He also ran a wire across to the tank and fitted just about the last of the C8 behind it. When all the material was in place he carefully attached the last wire, wincing as he always did. But there was no immediate explosion. Now, as long as the phone didn't ring, the material wouldn't detonate. And he definitely wanted to be out of the room before it did. Demo in place, he casually strolled towards the entrance, wrench in hand. As he was disrobing, the foreigner came into the room, carrying a sample case. He got undressed . . . his clothing clearly wasn't in the room . . . and more or less followed Kevin into the locker room, muttering in what Kevin took to be Rasalhaguen. The doctor went to one of the lockers, setting the sample case on the bench, and took out his clothes. As he was preparing to put his pants on, Kevin swung the wrench into the back of his head. It was a spur of the moment decision but one that Kevin didn't regret. Win or lose, he'd taken the primary intelligence out of the WMD effort. And the doctor clearly had more access than a worker. He might even be able to find the girls. Or be told where they were. Kevin stripped out of his clothes and donned the doctor's, stuffing the body in the locker. Then he looked in the sample case. There were two things that looked like smoke grenades. One was labeled "Sarin" and the other "VX." There was a larger canister labeled "Sarin Area Weapon" and a can of what looked like wasp spray labeled "Mustard." Kevin put that together with "test batch" and realized that he was, probably, holding live agents in his hands. That caused him to put the material back in the sample case and close it rapidly. He picked up the doctor's glasses and looked in the mirror, trying for the proper expression of distracted and pissed off. The glasses made things a bit fuzzy but he could see well enough and he was pretty sure he'd gotten it right. The Herr Mad Scientist also had a pair of rubber gloves. Those went in the sample case. The last thing he did was pick up the belt with the gas mask and put it on. He paused in thought, then shrugged, opening up the sample case and lifting out the rack with the samples in it. He still had about a kilo of C8 left and he molded it into the bottom of the case. The nice thing about plastique was that it looked like plastic. Only a close examination would reveal it. He slid the detonators into his shoes, wincing. They shouldn't go off. He'd have been fine if they were NONEL; you couldn't get NONEL to go off without electrical current, period. But he wasn't positive with Skodas. With that done, he hid the M61A and walked out of the locker room, practically running into a man in one of the purple camouflage uniforms. "Doctor Chayanov?" the man said in passable English. "Da?" "You are late," the Corporal replied, grabbing his elbow. "Are those the samples?" "Da," Kevin answered in his best Rasalhague accent. "Is terrible quality control. All of your people are shit, just shit." "Well, you probably need to try not to say that to the FSM General or the Council Leader Kamarov," the Corporal replied tightly. "Be very polite." "Da, I am polite," Kevin replied as they hurried down the corridor. At the far end there was a door on the right guarded by two of the purple soldiers. That led to another corridor, with more soldiers, and the sound of the pumps from the facility on the right-hand wall. Halfway down the corridor was a single-person door on the left. The only door along either wall. This led to another corridor. That one dead-ended in a wall. There were two doors halfway down, with two guards in front of either door. If Kevin wasn't completely turned around, and he had pretty good spatial referencing ability, the door on the left led to his hidey hole. They took the door on the right. The corridor was practically identical to the hidey-hole corridor, which added to the likelihood. The exception was that there was an exit at the far end and two guards were in front of one of the doors. If the design matched the other side, it was the "storage" room. He was taken to this room and stopped. "You must be searched," the officer said. One of the guards handed his weapon to the other and then gave Kevin a brief pat down, ignoring Kevin's shoes. That was why the detonators were there; shoes and feet were untouchable to an Islamic. The guard looked at the vibro blade and then gave it back. Then he gestured to the sample case. Kevin opened it up and pointed to the items in it. The guard looked at the officer and asked something in Arabic. "He asks if these are bombs?" the Corporal said, glancing at the items uncomfortably. "Nyet," Kevin said. "Are not bomb. Are poison gas. Samples your leader asked to see." "That's okay, then," the officer replied, waving at the case and not asking for the material to be removed for further search. "We are very careful of the life of our General." "Da," Kevin replied, trying not to roll his eyes. As he closed the sample case, he heard a muffled shriek and paused. "We are entertaining some Platinum City young ladies," the officer said, looking at him carefully. "They are not enjoying the entertainment." "Good, is all Platinum City bitches are for," Kevin replied, closing the case. "Glad you approve," the Corporal said, gesturing at the door. One of the guards opened it and Kevin stepped into darkness. WORD COUNT 2849 ................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #67 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #67] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #67 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Black Ronin Deck 2 3C Room 20th March 3093 16:45:00 Local "We're fully dialed in," Chu-i Reece ‘Buddha’s Fist’ Kimura said. "We've got aerospace deconfliction and penetration planning going on, but it's not going to be easy." " ‘Buddha’s Fist’, if I've told you once . . ." Tai-sa Onishi ‘Rough Ryder’ Razan said. "We've got planning started on penetrating and taking their airspace, Tai-sa," Chu-i Kimura said, smiling faintly. "Now why couldn't you just say that?" the Tai-sa asked, sighing. "I mean, we both trained in it, right? So why can't we just call it that? Never mind. Go on." "The Fort Eagle Gilbraltor Island Complex is right behind a major air-defense network that extends to the capitol. The airbase that the DropShip landed at is an aerospace fighter base. We're probably going to see air-to-air combat. And until we get that suppressed, we can't send in any sort of conventional force. Even if the ‘Mechs or transports get through holes in the SGM and SAM belts, they'll still be cold meat to fighters." "And as soon as we attack, Gilbraltor will know what we're going for," Sho-ka Akita Fujinaka said. "And if we cannot, in fact, prove that the hostages are there, or if they are moved and Gunsho Kevin ‘Katana’ Hsu doesn't detect that and we strike an empty base, the Inner Sphere and political repercussions are going to be enormous." "We have them definitely tracked to Gilbraltor Fort Eagle Southeast," the Razan’s Ronins intelligence division CO, Chu-i Karen Tsang, pointed out. "The usual suspects will scream bloody murder. Other than that, I don't see the repercussions." "It will seriously undermine our mission if we cannot prove they were there," Fujinaka said with relentless logic. "We need every bit of help we can get." "Can we take down the Gilbraltor Island Complex?" Tai-sa Razan asked. "I mean, all the way down? Full regime change as in Lipton?" "That would be . . . extremely hard," Kimura said. "We don't have the forces to hold down both Gilbraltor and Platinum City. We could probably ravage their army, but taking their complexes and holding them would be problematic. We may send heavy forces in to support Operation Immediate Freedom, but I'd suggest a withdrawal immediately after the operation." "That leaves us at Benjamin, 3087," Onishi pointed out. "Which is one of the reasons Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka lost his rank. If we take territory, we hold it. If it's just a raid, fine. But if we take territory with heavy forces, we hold it and call for a regime change in Gilbraltor. And then scrape up everything we can find to finish the job." "Gilbraltor not only controls its own Island territory, but the other Islands and, effectively, Fort Eagle," Sho-ka Fujinaka pointed out. "Even if we could take Gilbraltor and Tyrrhenia, we've discussed the problems with taking Athen, Ampheres and Poseidon Islands. We simply don't have the troops." "Then try to keep it to a very large-scale raid," the Tai-sa said. "If we have to send in BattleMechs, we have to. But try to avoid it. I don't want to take ground and then give it back. That makes us look as if we lost. To the Skondia population, and to our employer, Living Dragon and you know perception is everything in this business. Don't give the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army an inch. And leave behind nothing but ruins. I want that whole facility trashed before we're gone. Smoking craters." "That we can arrange," Chu-i Kimura said. "Once the air defenses are trashed, we'll fly our 95 ton Koroshiya’s over and drop Laser guided GBU-12 Paveways on the whole thing. When they're in ground contact mode, they leave really nice craters." "I wish I knew what was happening to the hostages," the Tai-sa said thoughtfully. "I think we'll find out," Karen replied. "And we won't like it." Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Black Ronin Deck 2 3C Room 20th March 3093 17:30:00 Local "Tai-sa, I think you should see this," Chu-i Kimura said, keying one of the overhead video screens. It was an oblique shot, probably from a satellite, of a line of soldiers and a helicopter. Two men were descending from the helicopter. "We can't get resolution on faces, Tai-sa," the Chu-i said. "But from the body shape and clothing, the man on the right is Benjamin Astley." "So it's not a rogue Expatriate operation," Karen said. "That's good and bad to know. The tall one, though, is that who I think it is?" "Probably," the Chu-i replied. "Given his height, movements and the way that he Dragon his right arm." "Makes me tempted to drop our Ronin Legion Company on top of the facility right now," the Tai-sa said, darkly. "I've heard about the first holo-vid. Have we gotten the demands, yet?" "A group calling itself The True Tikonov for Free Skondia Mutineers was the contact to Albien Jestter," the Intelligence Division CO said. "They called for a withdrawal of all Platinum City forces from all areas of the Island city-states. Now, that's an incredibly broad demand. Arguably, it includes not only all of the Gilbraltor Islands but Poseidon and Southern Islands of Tyrrhenia as well. Certainly, they're referring to all Platinum City and Razan’s Ronins forces in the Fort Eagle Complex. Otherwise, they will do what they have already done to one girl every six hours, until their demands are met. I had analysts go over the holo-vid, which is already on the hyperpulsegeneratornet. Several of the girls who were kidnapping victims have been identified from 'audience shots.' " "What's the download rate like?" Kimura asked. "High," the Intelligence Division CO admitted. "It's flying around the net. And, of course, the holo-vidnews media is all over it like flies on shit. They're interviewing all the parents of the girls and various commentators are already talking about Stockholm syndrome." "Unlikely in this situation," Karen said. "Conditions are too extreme. And it takes some time to set in. Any word from Hsu?" "Negative," the Battalion XO said. "And he's overdue to check in. But security on the site has been increased. I'm not sure he can get out of his hidey-hole." “We give him twelve more hours," the Tai-sa said. "That is two and a half lives. Then we go whether we know where they are or not." Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Black Ronin Deck 2 3C Room 20th March 3093 18:00:00 Local "What's the situation with Shadow Platoon, Tsang ?" the Tai-sa asked. She'd dropped just about everything to cover this situation and she was starting to get a little ragged at the edges. "Do we have a mission plan to get these girls out?" "Yes, Tai-sa," the Intel Div CO said. "We have the alert LRM 5th Jump Infantry Minutemen platoon at the Sayf Airport rigged and in the air. Star League Skondia SWAT Special Forces is on the way and performing mission planning enroute. However, it'll take time for the Skondia SWAT to get there. We're going to lose hostages if we wait. So. The best compromise between time to target and available forces is in theater our DEST units. We've got our DEST platoon staged out of Poseidon International looking at all the intel that we have. They're the closest, and best trained, team we have for this. The Skondia SWAT are as good as they come and I'd rather use them. But given the time constraints, I'd say go with our DEST. It's going to be a high risk mission, though, even for our DEST team." "Why?" the Tai-sa asked. "I've brought in someone to brief on that," the Chu-i said, clearing her throat and gesturing at the Sho-ko Matthew Deyama by her side. "Sho-ko Matthew Deyama is our resident expert in advanced HALO, a Star League officer. It was his suggestion on insertion which is being implemented. It is . . . somewhat unusual . . ." "It's insane, sir," the Sho-ko said, in a soft-spoken voice. "But it's the only thing that might work." "Go ahead, Sho-ko," the Tai-sa said, leaning back. "Ma’am," the Sho-ko replied, getting up and going to the briefing stand. "The problem is that Gilbraltor Integrated Air Defense System is as advanced as that of most first-world planets. They were defeated by Clan Diamond Shark in 3089 but it took four days for Clan Diamond Shark to fully suppress them. Free Skondia Mutineers has been playing against the varsity for a long time, and were positioned to learn all about our air operations during the previous fracas when we landed. We don't have the time to roll back the air defense system prior to inserting the assault team. The need was to place a team on site, before the enemy was fully aware that they were under attack. There is only one way to do so: stealthily." "You mean 'stealth,' don't you, Sho-ko?" the Battalion XO said, wonderingly. "As in inserting them by, what? Stealth VTOLs? We have two Triremes only equipped with ECMs. Not stealth armor.. We need to lift a large assault team! And where would you place the parachutists?" "Yes, sir, I mean stealth," the Sho-ko replied, bringing up a Top-Secret schematic of a bomb-bay rack. "Star League Skondia SWAT Special Forces HALO did a very secret test with the Transport Trireme last month at Ampheres. The bomb-rack ejector mechanisms were modified with ECMs, and an O2 distribution hookah was improvised. In addition, the Triremes are required to modify their climb profile for decompression. On the plus side, it is possible to eject a full DEST company from two VTOLs, stealthily. Their insertion will be from thirty thousand feet, twice normal height and about the maximum a person can handle without specialized equipment that can't be made available in time. We have already completed the necessary modification on the Triremes that were rotating through repair and refit, and your DEST teams are married up with their transport and enroute as we speak. The down side is that the VTOL is visible to the enemy radar as long as the bay is open, discharging the team. They’ll need to offload the entire company in a hurry, which won't be pleasant for your DEST, in order to avoid missile fire, which is more unpleasant. Given Gilbraltor air defenses, we may lose a Trireme." "Authorized," the Tai-sa said, coldly. "How soon are they going to be on the ground?" "The team is supposed to be being dropped about now, Tai-sa." "You have got to be shitting me!" WORD COUNT 1821 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #68 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #68] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV DC-RD-06-02 #68 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Gilbraltor Fifty miles North Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 16:00:00 Local The planetary garrison bivouac bustled with energy. Technician and AsTechs scrambled across mud-slicked ground, uncomplaining of the same conditions that elicited moans of protest only yesterday. Laborer and AsTechs worked hard to clean up the mess the monstrous, gale-strength storm . . . whose claws tried to drag even the multiton ’Mechs across the ground . . . wreaked across a half week. Hauling away logs, righting tents, cleaning off vehicles, making small repairs where needed. Aa veritable labor of Hercules. They bounced with anticipation. An ancient J-27 ammo truck procured from the Skondia Garrison Support Lance churned through the mud in a vain attempt to bring its metal food to the hungry bins of a waiting Archer. Spinning, slipping tracks kicked up a rooster’s tail of goop and slop that shot four meters into the air and a good ten meters back, splattering vehicles, ’Mech legs and personnel alike. Nothing could dampen the mood. Though the attack from Free Skondia Mutineers technically began several months ago, a relief for all, whether one participated or not, today would be different . . . a different relief altogether. A relief . . . unlike any conflict Major Fujita Morinaka’s battalion had ever experience prior to now . . . that allowed nearly every enlisted personnel, along with a significant percentage of the laborer, technician, and AsTech, to directly participate. Today began the assault of Fort Eagle, live-fire pitting everything from un-armored infantry to ’Mechs to conventional fighters against one another. Because they were so often scattered across the surface of any the planet for long weeks, if not months, Morinaka’s Garrison would benefit from this opportunity to test their warriors’ edge, ensuring they did not become dull from lack of use. This combat was so much more than mere fighting . . . imbued with mysticism and invested in a world’s progenitor , their very existence; battles won and lost in this fight impacted his promotion and rank within the Skondia Garrison and even the rest of the planet’s sociopolitical structure. Fujita walked gingerly, trying not to splatter mud onto his calf-high ’Mech boots. Though the temperature had dipped precipitously during the storm, it now sat at a balmy 35 degrees and almost 100 percent humidity. Fujita breathed deeply. He stepped around a particularly large puddle and into shadow, recognized the dark embrace of his own ’Mech. Fujita walked another half dozen paces toward the metal trunks towering before him and stopped. Slowly ran his eyes over the metal giant he called his own. The Victor stood ten meters tall, the sun baking away the last of the moisture; Fujita smiled at the idea of the ’Mech stepping from a fresh bath, air drying and priming for the coming battle. A battle far too long in coming. “She looks ready. Strong.” Derek stomped up through the muck. Fujita watched him approach the last few meters to his side, obviously unconcerned about the droplets of mud flung onto his legs or caked o his boots. “You are going to drag that into your ride?” “Uh?” he responded, looked down, back up. Smiled. “Unlike your prissy ’Mech, oh fastidious one, my Archer does not mind a little mud on the floor mat.” Fujita shook his head and felt the still-wet strands of his hair slap his bare shoulders, almost stick in the webbing of his coolant vest. “It is not about prissy, my slob of a friend. It is about respect. I respect her and she respects me.” “My Archer respects me because I control it.” “You think you control it, but as in combat, such control is fluid at best. In such situations you work within the confines of the circumstances to achieve victory. Never truly controlling them, only planting your strengths of will and knowledge in such a way as to create an outcome to your liking, no?” “Yea, maybe.” “There is no difference with a ’Mech. You work with it to achieve victory. Do you not? ” “Well, no. I don’t see it.” “Perhaps that’s why you have yet to defeat me, though we are equals in weight and speed.” Fujita spoke without even turning toward his lance mate of the Skondia Garrison Command Lance who was also a native of Skondia, albeit from Damascus, and so missed the bitter look that transformed Derek’s features at his words. “Are you prepared for today? I would hate for the Alentove Division’s Tikonovian’s to defeat my non-comm. It would look bad,” Fujita continued, turning his head and smiling. “Me, defeated! Never! Only you, Major Morinaka, can defeat me. A defeat I bask in.” “I’m serious.” “And so am I. You have no need of fear from this quarter. Do you fear defeat in yours, oh omnipotent one?” Fujita waited for the normal laughter, but found none. Nothing could bother him this day. “Why should I fear a loss?” Of course, he knew why. Derek returned the look, no emotion on his face. Fujita attempted to hold that gaze, but for once pulled away first, felt his breakfast sitting heavy for a moment, tasted the tang of bile before swallowing it away. “It will not happen again.” “Of course it will not, Major.” Fujita’s ire sparked momentarily and he brought his sapphire eyes back online with Derek, no evidence of sarcasm in voice or face. But always the hint of it, despite the apparent innocence. Always he stab into his sore spot. “Do you doubt your Major?” “I never doubt my Major’s abilities.” “That is not the same thing,” Fujita ground out, trying to hold on to his good mood. “Is it not?” Derek responded, raising a quizzical eyebrow, though something danced in his eyes. Fujita drew in a harsh breath to respond, then bit it off. He would not let this non-comm’s propensity for pestering him ruin this day. Of course Derek did not doubt his abilities . . . or him. “Then let’s be about shaming these Insurgents.” Derek hesitated for a moment, then nodded and moved away toward his Archer. Fujita turned back to his own magnificent ride, the cooling balm of the moment washing away any vestiges of ire. As Major, he could choose to pilot literally any ’Mech within his Company. Yet he fell in love with the Victor when he had seen it on the salvage list several years prior, and only death would separate the two of them. Approaching the back of the ’Mech, he grasped the aluminum chain-link ladder dangling from above and began the ascent. The cool metal caused goose bumps to sprout along his bare arms and legs. Reaching the top of the ladder, he stepped onto the back of the shoulder, right where the head should have met the neck. Spinning open the dogged hatch, Fujita swung it out with practiced ease. The sunlight splashed playfully into the dark interior, partially illuminating the metal cave where Fujita lived more often than not, not enough now!. Stepping through the hatch, he swung it back, sealing out the sunlight and fresh air, dogged it closed. Sidling around the command couch, he eased himself over the side of the chair, careful of the throttle mounted there. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Stale odor of his own dried sweat; acerbic tang of spilled chemicals from a torn coolant vest; slight musk from the synthetic material in the seat; slick whiff of lubricants; dull, flat aroma of metal and polymers; something, there, barest hint of his own blood, spilt and forever wedded to him; Home. Opening his eyes, he reached up behind and pulled down the neurohelmet from where it rested, placing the light helmet upon his head, adjusting the fit until the neural receptors found their accustomed positions. Leaning to the right, he grasped a large yellow lever and pulled it firmly down, locked it into position. The growl of an awakening beast echoed up beneath his feet, as the first sequences of the fusion reactor initiated in preparation for startup. The aluminum ladder slapped the Victor’s rear armor plating as it automatically reeled in. It sounded like gnashing metal teeth. A hunger needed to be satiated. The ’Mech’s, his . . . the same. Opening a small hatch in the right arm of the command couch, he pulled out several wires and a small bag. The first cord he plugged into the bottom of his coolant vest. Next, he took several medical monitors out of the bag, stowed it, then stripped off their covering and adhered them to the insides of his upper arms and thighs, smoothly attached alligator clips, then ran them through a pinch loop on his vest to keep them from tearing out during combat, ran the ends to a central plug. Finally, he jacked in the neurohelmet. Stretching, he felt the weight of the helmet and the slickness of the seat under him, sensations that increased his regret for being gone too long. One of the great joys of his life sacrificed for the glory and honor of his Command. Within the ’Mech’s bowels, the initiation sequence terminated and the reactor spun online. Power surged in abundance, yet still lay trapped for the moment. Leaning slightly forward, he keyed the identification sequence. His calm voice filled the cockpit with its embrace. “Voice Identification, initiated.” “Fujita, Major of Skondia Garrison Company stationed at Platinum City, Bangalore.” “Voice authorization confirmed.” Fujita knew most warriors did not even notice the mechanical voice as they went through the motions of unlocking their ’Mechs. For Fujita, however, the voice was part and parcel of his Victor. The first sign of the power about to be given into his hands. Power to destroy, to kill . . . yet the power to create and build. He bathed in the sound, luxuriated in it. “Code Identification, initiated.” “Once the Grizzly has chosen its target, nothing can stand in its way. Such is the Way of our People.” Despite the constant prodding by his xo, Fujita knew well the price to be paid for any action. Any warrior held such knowledge, or he did not live long. Any commander courted the knowledge, or he failed. As both, and leader of a Garrison Company, he was doubly aware of it. Confusion swirled within for a moment at the doubt that surfaced in his mind. He wrenched it about with the force of his will. Of course, I do. “Code authorization confirmed. Command is yours.” The voice went silent and power poured into the cockpit, igniting a rainbow of colors across the control panel. Leaning slightly forward once more, he brought the various ’Mech systems online. A quick glance through several screens showed weapons fully loaded and charged, while the armor schematic portrayed a pristine picture, ready to protect against the hellish energies about to be unleashed. Almost squirming with glee, Fujita settled back into the command couch, grasped the throttle in his left hand and moved it partially forward while using the foot pedals to direct the movement. The vibrations welling up from the first footfall spread a savage grin across his face. Too long since he sat in this seat. Too long since his own Company encountered another, thus initiating combat. Too long had this warrior been gone from his home port. Fujita returned to his true calling. WORD COUNT 1961 Major Fujita Morinaka Victor Assault-Class BattleMech Skondia GARRISON TN Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #69 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #69] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV DC-RD-06-02 #69 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Gilbraltor Fort Eagle Patrol 20th March 3093 17:00:00 Local Major Fujita Morinaka Garrison Company expected multiple pushes by the Free Skondia Mutineers forces for upsetting their plans so his Command Lance had been augmented by his Light lance and Chi Platoon for patrols to hopefully give them an edge once it came. Fujita had briefed everyone to expect them to fight fanatically and to the death and he secretly suspected this may be even worse than Libya where the Garrison had gotten beat up really badly by Clan Diamond Shark. They had been out for almost for an hour and had found an area that was wooded so they slowed down their speed to insure there were no surprises. Fujita was worried because the Free Skondia Mutineers forces had updated equipment and now that their plans had been foiled they were looking for payback. He only hoped his command would all survive. It is funny how one looks at things differently each time, such as time. Normally it passes, normally, but certain events can cause it to speed up or slow down to a crawl. For instance, waiting in ambush or on patrol, time drags on and on but once two forces joined in battle, it comes to almost a standstill. Every second, a minute, then an hour, everything turns into slow motion where seconds make the difference of life and death; but seems to be an eternity. The adrenalin was pumping much like the fluid through a ‘Mechs actuators and hoses. And once it is done, the rush leaves you weak and confused. 'I wonder how this day will turn out' he thinks and unknown to him he will find out shortly. Suddenly the silence was broken by private Arnold Thompkins of the Garrison’s Light lance as he speaks to them through their comms "Major this is ‘Mahmood’, I have contact due north. Six bogies inbound our direction." Fujita snaps out of his reverie and says "Identification?" "Enemy, over." As he stares at his screen, suddenly to the south, he picks up six more ‘Mechs inbound to their location and over the comms he hears Tori von Wolffe’s voice who has also seen the new arrivals. "Heads up" sh’e says six more bogies from the south, heavies by my sensors." 'Damn it, they had walked right into an ambush' he thinks 'How to minimize the damage to his forces’. "Close up on me! Attention all forces! I want you to close up and then we concentrate our firepower on each ‘Mech to take them down quickly." 'Perhaps he won’t lose too many of his folks today but it isn't looking good’. "The ‘Mechs north are using trees for cover," he hears "They are light and mediums." Twelve ‘Mechs to his eight. Close but still not even a close fight or fair. Of course there is nothing such as a fair fight but he had hoped that the odds would be a bit closer. As he looked on his radar to the north, he identified a Shadow Hawk SHD-5S, Sarissa MN1-D, Wolfhound WLF-3M, Hammer HMR-3P, Hermes II HER-5S and a Hatchetman HCT-6M. Unless he misses his guess these were the remnants of the Free Skondia Mutineers’s 3rd Battalion’s, 1st and 2nd Company’s Light lance and Light-Medium lance, respectively, and they were elite and fanatical. Quickly he scanned the south and saw a Marauder MAD-9M2, Orion ON3-MX, Perseus P1C, Shockwave SKW-2F, Blackjack BJ2-OF and a Hunchback HBK-7X-4, these belonged to the same battalion, 3rd Battalion, but were from its 3rd Company members from its Heavy lance and Medium lance. They had more than enough to bring down his forces so he quickly started to look for a way to extract themselves. Changing to the allied command frequency he decides to let the Tai-sa know what he is facing. "Operation Immediate Freedom Actual, Tai-sa. We have contact in sector B34. Two lights, seven mediums, and three heavy ‘Mechs. Our position from ambush. believe they are elements of the Free Skondia Mutineers third battalion. Requesting Aero or VTOL support, over." "Major standby, Immediate Freedom Actual not present but getting. Request received." “Roger," he says. "Ok troops, new plan. Scatter amongst the trees in groups. Make it harder for them to hit us as well. CHI platoon go to it," he says calmly. "You are weapons free! I say again, Weapons free! Fire at will!" They didn't have to wait long for contact to begin, for no sooner had he reported the contact, when the Free Skondia Mutineers forces attacked. The fight was fast and vicious and took forever as time froze in place but was over in a blink of an eye. As Fujita watched the lights of the Garrison Light lance take on the lance of Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs, it seemed it was an even exchange affair, but then suddenly he was hit by weapons fire from the Hunchback attempting to take him out quickly with the Blackjack joining in, both ganging up on the Major's Victor. Suddenly they all hear "Shit! Damn Free Skondia Mutineers Autocannon. Jammed again, DAMN TECHS!" and they all can’t help but suppress a smile, knowing the frustration that Tori and the techs had faced trying to figure out why it jams. Fujita struggled under the onslaught from two ‘Mechs, trying to keep his footing. He can hear the gyros whining trying to compensate and he finally manages to get it under control just as Tulsi Drummond and Christina do the same. He watched as the Blackjack flails its arms trying to do the same only to crash unceremoniously into the ground on its face. The first round goes to the enemy Fujita thinks, hoping they can avert another volley like the last one. Again the battle is joined by a myriad of colors filling the sky. Blues, reds, yellows all fly about striking anything in their midst; friend, foe, ground, trees. They had managed to blast off more than 2 1/2 tons of armor from his Victor and it seemed certain he would fall. Fujita felt his temples starting to ache from the physical strain of willing his 80 ton ‘Mech to keep on its feel. He knew he couldn’t keep this up indefinitely but being the biggest ‘Mech on the battlefield, he would have done the same, pounded it until it died. Major Morinaka hoped that with the attention they are giving him it would allow his guys to take down a couple of the ‘Mechs and turn the tide of battle in their favor. "Are you ok Boss?" came the question from Tori. "I am fine," he says, panting as he watched the Hatchetman crash into the ground on its right side. So far so good, they had given as good as they got. Perhaps there was a chance, slim thought there is one. It seemed that the battle armor had finally entered the battle as he saw the trail of missiles streaking towards the Hammer and blasts off armor from the ‘Mech. Not happy with being ambushed, the Hammer turned it’s weapons on the battle armor’s position and let loose with its lasers as does the Hermes. It doesn't take long and the woods catch fire but luckily it is a wet season so it spreads slowly. Going over his sensors it seemed they are ganging up on him, the Hitman and the Light Lance. He quickly formed a plan and call's Tori. "Tori, Fujita. They are focusing on me, the Hitman and Light Lance. Use it to your advantage and kill something." "Roger boss," is all he heard. The world has went into slow motion for him as he watched the exchange of PPC's, laser's, auto cannons, machine gun, gauss rifle, and missile fire. Like walking through a fog he watched helplessly as all about him chaos reigns supreme. 'This is going to be a massacre' he thinks as missiles rain down upon his ‘Mech causing more and more destruction. Suddenly the Victor lurches to the side as his gyro turns from green to yellow showing that the latest damage had managed to breach his external armor and struck the vital organ deep within his ‘Mech. Tori starts to unleash only the hell she can bring in her Zeus and the Shadow Hawk pays the price with its destruction. As her coherent beams of destruction strike the ‘Mech she is rewarded as her sensors show her the hit on the Long Range Missile system is rewarded by blinking out. Her next shots find criticals in its right leg reducing its movement and making it very vulnerable. The Major hastily wasted his shots at the Blackjack and missed completely. For the third time in as many seconds Fujita struggled to keep the 80 ton machine on its feet and succeeded once again. The Hitman shown bright orange as it had taken an engine as well as the loss of a heat sink hit. Fujita knew he couldn’t last much longer. "Tulsi, get out of there! Retreat before you lose your ‘Mech!" He commands. "Acknowledged starting withdrawal now." Fujita knew the damage and battle loss will be staggering but if they can hold this assault, maybe they could buy time for the rest. Again he was rocked by missile fire form the Blackjack but nothing went internal. He was alarmed as he looked across the schematic of his Victor and many areas were starting to show red. Sweat dripped from his body as the heat rose within the confines of the ‘Mech and if weren’t for all of the ripping and tearing sounds, he might of heard the whine of the cooling system trying to vent the excess heat. As he looked around through his forward view port, it was like a grand melee around him. Morinaka was amazed that no one had hit anyone with friendly fire, yet. This time he waited until the reticule turned golden and he got the lock tone and fires both of his extended range large lasers. Cleansing green coherent light leapt across to strike the Blackjack but failed to take him out of the fight. Fire and smoke encircle them as the woods all about them caught fire. 'Something had to give,' he thought. 'All this destruction and no one had gone down on either side.' Chi platoon hadn't been idle during all of the fighting as their lasers and missiles hit home across the various Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs. They were rewarded as the Shockwave stopped moving and shut down; out of the fight as they had managed to swarm the head and managed to kill the pilot. For years to come they would be able to see the damage that both sides had wrought here. Limbs and armor strewn about the field, destroyed vegetation and fire rule the day. The Skondia Garrison units were holding their own and their shots were starting to really hurt the Free Skondia Mutineers forces as shot after shot goes internal seeking to destroy or kill their opponent. Fujita managed to catch his breath as the enemy Blackjack had found another target, Tori's Zeus. Relying more now on sensors than visual, due to the smoke and fire. They saw the pilot of the Sarissa eject, taking it out of the fight completely. "Three down boys and girls." Lieutenant Odílio Hussain said smiling. "Umm, make that four." The Lieutenant said as the Hermes II stops moving due to weapons fire from the battle armor that had managed to hit the head destroying the pilot in the process. Suddenly the engine of the Hammer winked out due to damage bringing the ‘Mech and its pilot to their end. "Damn, make it five now," Odílio said once more. Suddenly they heard across the battlenet, "EJECTING!!!" It was ‘Mahmood’. Quickly Fujita did a mental calculation, 'So far five Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs to one Garrison ‘Mech.' he thought 'We have a chance here’. The Skondia Garrison units poured fire into the enemy now in rage over one of theirs being downed. His Victor was rocked by laser fire and the Major heard the voice come over as his left leg was blown off and a double heat sink was taken off line from damage. He fired quickly at the Blackjack hitting it with a ER Large Laser in the left leg as he struggled to maintain his balance. His second shot hit the Blackjack in the right arm and he was rewarded with seeing it flying off into the distance as Fujita’s Victor crashed into the ground. His 90mm rotary auto cannon peppered the Blackjack but failed to bring the monster down. He felt the taste of blood in his mouth as his Victor slammed face first into the dirt. He felt the electricity flowing through his neuro helmet and knew he was going to get fried. He could smell the burnt flesh as a small scream escaped his lips. He fought to remain conscious as the five point harness dug deeply into his body. His vision swam before him as the sweat fell into his eyes as he looked at the sensor read out for his ‘Mech. Not only had he lost a leg but he managed to damage the engine and the C3 Slave unit as well. "Skondia Actual is down. Major can you hear me? Are you ok?" came across his comms. It took him a minute to reply back to Tori von Wolffe’s inquiry. Gasping as he struggled to try and regain his footing he replies "I am down but not out. Pour it to them now." Fujita manages to lever himself up and fire his rotary auto cannon and a streak four pack striking the Blackjack. Luckily the Blackjack was heavily damaged and Morinaka was rewarded with it going dark on his sensors. Both sides fought like demons, one for an ideal and the other for survival. 'The battle roms of this battle will be interesting to review if they survive' the Major thought which was looking more and more promising now. The smoke had gotten heavier signaling that more of the woods had caught fire and being green were generating lots of smoke and due to all of the fires, IR was virtually useless so that left magnetic and motion sensors to locate the enemy. Thinking back just how long had this battle been taking place Fujita wonders as his comms come alive. "Skondia Actual this is Immediate Freedom command. Negative on air support over." "Roger, copy negative on air support anything further?" he asks. "Sitrep, over." "Six enemy down to one of ours. Heavy damage both sides. My Victor is missing its left leg. We are holding but do not know for how long." "Roger, Immediate Freedom Command out." Somewhere long ago he remembered someone telling him one of the infantry had bought the farm. Was it this battle or another? His head was still ringing and it stung from the neuro feedback he had sustained. Suddenly a Perseus appeared out of the smoke and haze and he heard the sweet tone of lock and golden cross hairs as he fired his weapons. They scoured armor off the ‘Mech and it disappeared once more into the fog of war. Thumbing through sensors he saw that Tori had downed the Orion and he felt more than he sensed a ‘Mech falling near him. Christina shouted in excitement at getting the kill on the Hatchetman and Tulsi Drummond has downed the Shadow Hawk bringing the total of Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs down to eight. If only the good luck could continue the Major prays. The Gods of War have smiled upon Major Fujita Morinaka and his people today as the battle armor squad brought down one more ‘Mech, the Wolfhound. It exploded in a fiery fireball as its ammunition went off and the count is in favor of the Skondia Garrison nine to one. All about Fujita the battle still rages and he couldn’t do anything about it as he couldn’t lever up to fire and even if he managed to get to his feet his only option would be to hop so there he sat, waiting. A Marauder appeared and it fired hitting a Garrison ‘Mech with a ERPPC, ER medium laser and its LB-10X before it disappeared into the smoke. Zoeya ‘Vixen’ Livingston reports the Perseus was down and pilot was dead leaving the Free Skondia Mutineers with only 3 functioning ‘Mechs. Once again the Marauder rushed past and Major Morinaka fired his weapons. This time he was rewarded as the ‘Mech crashes to the ground as ammunition exploded in the left torso destroying the engine. He smiled as the unit finished off the rest of the Free Skondia Mutineers ‘Mechs. They had been ambushed and hit hard but survived to fight another day. Loses are very light in one ‘Mech down, one disabled and rest severely damaged. The infantry had lost two to KIA and two injured. Suddenly a ‘Mech appeared at his side, a Zeus as his comms came to life. "You ok boss?" Tori asked to make sure. "Yes, form everyone up and let’s get some help here," he said keying the Allied frequency. " ‘Immediate Freedom Command’ this is Major Fujita Morinaka of the Skondia Garrison. We have won the da,." he reported wearily, the taste of blood still fresh in his mouth. "Need recovery to bring home the pitiful salvage we have gained and two of our own ‘Mechs. Major Fujita Morinaka out!" WORD COUNT 2960 Major Fujita Morinaka Victor Assault-Class BattleMech Skondia GARRISON TN Like This Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #70 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #70] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV DC-RD-06-02 #70 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 17:45:00 Local When Amy Townsend woke up, all she knew was that she didn't like the situation at all. She was seated on some sort of metal chair, there were bars across her thighs and butt, which she could tell were naked, rather than a solid bottom. It was pretty uncomfortable seat but that wasn't the worst of the situation. There were metal restraints on her wrists and ankles. The room was echoey, like it had rock or concrete walls, and girls were crying. It also stank, feces and urine and a smell she could only define as "fear." Amy was a twenty-year-old student at UGA from Grant Town, Bangalore, working on her nursing degree and letting ROTC pay for it. She was pretty in a square-jawed way with brown hair and pretty green eyes, but many of her friends considered her to be a bit "butch". She wore her hair fairly short, above the shoulders, and between being in shape from weight lifting instead of aerobics or cheerleading and her standard rolling walk which was anything but feminine, she tended to have a hard time finding guys that could look at her as a female rather than "just another one of the guys." This despite a rather large chest. She kept her eyes shut, head down, and moved her ankles slightly. She could move them side to side pretty freely but only forward or back about four inches. When she moved her right foot forward, something pulled on her left. And she felt a yank that wasn't from her after a moment. She opened her eyes and looked down. She was fully naked and her ankles and wrists had metal bands on them. The bands each had a ring welded to them, shutting them closed. They weren't coming off short of a hacksaw. There was a chain, one for the feet, one for the wrists, that ran through metal rings on the seats, which turned out to be more of a long bench, then to the rings on the restraints. She looked to either side and saw she was part of a line of five girls, all similarly restrained. Some of them still appeared to be asleep or unconscious. There was a gap to her left, then another line of five girls. There was another line of girls in front of her as well and the girl directly in front of her was awake, crying, and had apparently relieved herself on the floor, explaining at least part of the smell. She thought back, her brain getting more and more coherent as whatever drug had been used on her leached away. She remembered being royally pissed that she had been surprised. She usually had good situational awareness but the van had just come out of nowhere when she was crossing a student parking lot, headed home from a late class. She'd gotten one solid kick in when they got her in the van, struggling and screaming as loud as she could, then two men had gotten restraints on her and started stripping her. She'd refused to give in to hopelessness or despair, even when they took her to the warehouse and she saw the other girls and realized that the men were Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents rather than just your generic serial rapists. She'd seen a couple of the girls stripped, loaded in what looked like coffins and then somebody had stuck a needle in her deltoid and that was the last she remembered. "We are so totally screwed," the girl next to her whispered, fearfully. "We are so screwed." "We're not screwed, they are," Amy said, quietly but definitely, keeping her head down. "I don't care where on Skondia we are, there are very violent guys who are gearing up right now to come rescue us." "In your dreams," the girl said, bitterly. "The Governor won't care, he only cares about the oil." "Oh, we so don't want to be having this conversation," Amy said. "I'll bet you a dollar, most of us get out of here. Alive. But you can give up if you want. Feel free. In the meantime, I'm Amy." "Britney," the girl said. She was a short, fine-boned blonde with small breasts and a refined face that was twisted in fear. "God, I'm scared," she whispered, gritting her teeth. "You know what they're going to do to us, right?" "Yeah," Amy said, slowly lifting her head. There was a single door at the far right end of the room. Two soldiers in purple camouflage guarding it. Who in the hell used purple camouflage? At the end of the room, in the center, was a dais and on the dais was the sort of table she'd only ever seen in nightmares. Metal, like a surgical table, with restraints on it. On the left was a camera, a regular holo-vid news type camera, and lights. In the center of the end wall, directly behind the dais, was a large mirror that was obviously one-way glass. "This is truly going to suck." "How can you be so . . ." Britney stopped and shook her head. "Because unlike you, I trust the 'rough men' that Onishi Razan talked about." "What?" Britney said, confused. "'People sleep soundly in their beds because rough men wait to do violence to those who would harm them,'" Amy replied, quietly. "Like I said, they will come for us." "They didn't come for any of the other hostages in Poseidon," Britney said, bitterly. "And how are they going to find us?" "They will," Amy said. "If you can't hold tight to that thought, you're just going to break long before you make it to the table. And if you do, don't go crying on my shoulder." Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:00:00 Local Most of the hostages had woken up when the first change occurred. Two men in regular camouflage pants and black T-shirts, with masks on their faces, carrying RM-3/XXI variants, came in and relieved the more gaudy guards. They were followed by a couple of unarmed men in similar garb who went to the video equipment and started setting up. They hooked into cables that went to the walls, power and a video feed as far as Amy could see from her position. Last a group of Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents, unarmed, with masks on their faces came in followed by two masked civilians and an unmasked man in a suit. He stepped up onto the dais and looked around the room, hands clasped in front of him and smiling. "Good evening, ladies. My name is Demus Halal and I'll be your host for what you're about to endure. Let me cover a few things before we get started. Some of you are, I'm sure, positive that you're going to be rescued. You're not. Not only do Razan’s Ronins Mercenary Battalion have no idea where you're being held, but even if they found out, this facility is guarded by over a Regiment of troops, that's more than seven hundred, of the most elite Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents. Not to mention a large group of armed to the teeth Sentries such as these gentlemen," he added, gesturing to the guards by the door. "Furthermore, it is surrounded by heavy air defenses that will shoot down any approaching helicopters or and such. And this island that you are in has an effective aerospace fighter wing which is more than a match for the Mercenary’s Force. Last but not least, if they do try to rescue you, my friends here," he gestured at the guards, "will be more than happy to kill every one of you. And so will I. I will be more than happy to put a bullet through each of your heads." He looked around at the renewed crying and smiled, happily. "Yes, please, cry. I like it. Soon you will find out just how much I like it," he added as the two Sentries who had accompanied him opened up their bags and pulled out rubber aprons. "These gentlemen over here," he added, gesturing at the soldiers, "are from the elite Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents that guard this facility. There are, as I mentioned, more than seven hundred of them. That works out to forty apiece for each of you." He looked around and grinned, staring at crying faces, his smile getting wider and wider. "Oh, this is lovely. Such a sight. Please," he said, turning to the video technicians, "make sure you occasionally get a shot of the audience. They are such a wonderful sight. And," he added, turning back to the hostages, "you'll, of course, get a clear view of the proceedings. At first those of you in the back may have trouble watching, but as time goes by, you'll have a better view. We intend to take about six and one half hours with each of you. That is one hundred hours or so. In one hundred hours, your ground forces defeated the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army forces back on Tikonov. They called it the 'one hundred hour war.' This is our one hundred hour war. In one hundred hours, we intend to defeat the Inner Sphere. For all time. We will break your Living Dragon government on its weakness," he finished, his eyes finally going cold as he looked at the front row of girls, each of whom was staring at him like a mouse in front of a snake. "I think," he said, slowly, looking back and forth at the row and then finally pointing to the girl on the left edge of the middle aisle, a short girl with light brown hair and shapely breasts. "I think we'll start with you." "Noooo!" she screamed as the two men in aprons came forward along with a couple of the waiting Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents. One of the aproned men pulled out a key and undid the lock for her hands while the other slid out the chain. The two Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents grabbed her by the wrists and held her as her feet were undone, then she was lifted up, screaming, and dragged to the table. The Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents secured her in place while the aproned men locked the chain back down. At no time had they lost control of the chain so that the other hostages could snatch it away. The camera was brought around so that it could focus in on her face and "Demus" came around to her, holding out a microphone. "What is your name, miss?" he asked in an interested tone, very much like a television interviewer. "Clarissa," the girl said, her eyes screwed shut and face in a mask of terror. "Please don't do this to me," she sobbed. "Please!" "Clarissa what?" Demas asked. "McCutcheon. Oh, God, you don't need to do this. Please!" "And where are you from, Clarissa?" Clarissa just shook her head, too panicked to answer. Demus looked nonplussed for a moment, then nodded at one of the men in aprons who reached under the table and came up with a pair of jumper cables. When the first one touched her Clarissa looked up with a muttered: "What's that?" then screamed and arched when the second touched her skin. She slumped back as the cable was withdrawn, sobbing. "And you're from . . ." "HIGH ROCKS!" the girl screamed. "I'm from High Rocks!" "Well, Clarissa from High Rocks," Demus said, backing away from her and looking at the camera. "This is the last six hours of your life. We'll be capturing all of it in living color, and sound. Oh, most definitely sound. Bring over the boom mic, focus in on this lovely young example of Skondia womanhood," he added, gesturing the camera to the side and then waving at the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents who reached for their belts with grins. "And let the fun begin." WORD COUNT 2060 ……………… Major Demus Halal Free Skondia Mutineers FSM TN Like This Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #71 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #71] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #71 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:15:00 Local The room was dark with the only light coming from a sheet of one-way glass. It took Gunsho Kevin 'Katana’ Hsu’s eyes a moment to adjust. "Come in, Doctor Chayanov," a voice said in French-accented English. "You are very welcome. Come watch the show." There was a desk set a meter or so from the window and Kevin walked to it, setting the sample case on it and glanced through the window. A girl with dark brown hair was being raped and had had part of the skin on her side peeled off. The man on her was rubbing his hands into the exposed flesh as he thrust into her. Even through the thick glass, the screams were clearly audible. Kevin turned away from the scene with apparent indifference. He was horrified and repulsed by what was happening. He was close enough to rage that he could channel it and he was well prepped to explode. He controlled his reaction and glanced at the group in the room. There were two guards by the door and a short-coupled man, the one who had spoken in English, that he vaguely recognized and thought might be Benjamin Astley. His eyes widened, though, when he recognized the tall man at Astley's side. "I am truly honored," he said, nodding. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, sir. You have done much damage to the FedSuns pig-bastards." "As I did to the Confederated Magistry pig-bastards," the tall man said darkly. "But as I worked with the Mercenaries to defeat your kind, so I am happy to work with you to defeat them. The Federal Council's ways are complex, but they give their servants opportunities such as yourself. What did you bring to the Apostle's servants?" As Kevin opened the sample case, one of the guards stepped forward but all Kevin pulled out at first was a pair of gloves. He tried to ignore the shrieks at his back as he pulled out the first of the gas grenades. "Sarin," he said, setting it down. "Lethal in low concentrations but very short-lived. Which means you can move in the area no more than five hours after dispersal. This grenade will, well . . ." He turned around and gestured at the room full of naked women. "If I tossed it in that room, there would be no women to torture in less than five minutes. And that is just the time it would take to disperse fully." He turned back, set the grenade back inside and pulled out the next. "VX. Lethal at the same level as Sarin, but persistent. Which means wherever it lands, it stays for from weeks to years. Decontamination after VX has been used widely is nearly impossible. For months after dispersal, people opening up a door will die from residue on the underside of the knob. "This I particularly like," Kevin said, putting the canister back in the case and lifting out the spray can. "It can be painted to resemble the sort of can that is used in wasp spray. Currently, we only have it in mustard gas, which is a very simple material, but we may have it in VX or Sarin soon. The problem is that VX and Sarin need to be mixed to function. "It is very simple to use," he added, taking a subtle breath. "You simply point," he continued, pivoting towards the guards, "and spray," he added, depressing the tab. The stream of yellow liquid hit the right guard square in the face then tracked across to the left guard. Astley was wearing a sidearm in a fancy buckle-down holster and was trying to draw it as Kevin pivoted to him and hit him in the face. The tall Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent had ducked to the side and was heading for the guards, who had fallen to the ground, clutching at their throats and gurgling as the gas reached their lungs and began burning them. Kevin stepped around the desk and tripped him, then stamped on his lungs to get him to exhale and sprayed a puddle on the floor in front of his face. Then he stepped back, set the can on the desk and donned the gas mask. First he pressed it down to get a seal, then breathed out. Then he covered the inlet and inhaled, slightly. The mask pressed in indicating a good seal and he released the inlet and took a cautious breath. No scent of sulfur, no burning. Thank God. As soon as he had it clear, he stepped over to check on the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent. The tall man was rolling back and forth, red froth bubbling out of his mouth, trying to scream, the frantic inhalations causing his lungs to melt faster. "Dulce et decorum est," Kevin murmured, looking the man in the eye as he died, "pro patria mori. You muthaphukka." Two guards in the corridor, by the door. The door had been soundproofed and the nice thing about mustard was people couldn't really shout when they'd been hit by it. So the guards probably weren't even aware that anything had happened. Kevin picked up one of the dropped Rorynex RM-3s and checked the magazine. Full. He visualized the two guards, aware of the screams that were continuing in the other room, flicked off the safety and opened the door. The Corporal guide had, fortunately, left. And there were no additional guards. So he simply placed the barrel in the side of the left-hand guard, fired twice and then turned to the right-hand guard and did the same. Neither guard had time to do more than register surprise at the sight of a gas-mask-clad figure stepping out of the room. Kevin wasn't too sure at what level mustard was lethal. He had vague recollections in history classes of people talking about "a touch of mustard" from the first succession war, so apparently you could get some in your lungs and not automatically die. But he didn't want any of the girls dying from his mustard contamination. On the other hand . . . short time. He hadn't gotten a good look in the torture room, but he was pretty sure he'd seen at least one guard and a group of unarmed soldiers. So he picked up a spare magazine and stuffed it in his back pocket. Then he stepped to the door to the torture room and opened it. Amy was surprised that she'd almost gotten inured to the screams. Clarissa had taken less than an hour to die and, from what she could tell, Rachel was getting pretty close to the end. She'd learned to figure the time from the pattern of the torture. Clarissa had been raped by two of the soldiers, then tortured with electricity and had her skin stripped off in spots, then two more soldiers raped her in the mouth and butt, then she was tortured again and so on. Towards the end they had burned off her nipples with a blowtorch and after that they'd just beaten her with clubs to break her bones. Then they'd killed her by cutting her throat. Amy knew that Rachel was going to die, soon, in terrible agony, because while the soldiers were still raping her, one of the men in the aprons had started up the blowtorch. She had her head down, just praying. She'd started off praying that somebody would come rescue them all. Now she was just praying that somebody would come before it was her turn. She'd done the math. Depending on what pattern they used, she had either forty-six or fifty-two hours to live. And the last six hours would be really bad. Bad enough she'd rather just die beforehand and get it over with. The one thing she had going for her was that the guards were pretty lax with the girls. When they got to her, assuming none of the others were any good at self defense, she'd have a trick or two for them. With any luck she'd be enough of a problem they'd just kill her. Assuming she could stay sane that long. She looked up, though, at a scream from the front of the girls and the shot by the door. WORD COUNT 1439 ................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #72 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #72] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 11 September 2016 - 07:25 PM DC-RD-06-02 #72 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:30:00 Local Kevin stepped through the door, kicked it closed and drove the barrel of his weapon into the guard on the left of the door. Then he turned and fired two rounds into the guard on the right, turned and fired two into the guard that was bent over and retching. The group of soldiers lined up to rape the girl on the table stepped backwards, towards the wall, holding up their hands in placation but he didn't really care. He just started servicing them. One of the men in aprons had pulled out a knife and held it to the girl's throat by the time Kevin had killed all the soldiers. "Put down the gun," the man said, calmly. He was wearing a suit under the apron and it had gotten spotted by blood. "Put it down or the girl dies." Kevin looked him in the eye and dropped the magazine out of the Rorynex then reached into his back pocket to pull out the spare. Kevin kept looking him in the eye as he raised the weapon to his shoulder and sighted on his forehead. "Put down the knife, and I'll leave you the use of your upper body," Kevin said mildly. One of the other aproned torturers was shuffling around the one holding the girl hostage, knife in hand, clearly headed for another hostage. Kevin kept the weapon on the one with the girl until the other had almost reached the line of girls and then swung to the left, putting one round through the bastard's head and splattering the two girls on that end of the front rank in blood and brains. He ignored the screams from the girls as he pivoted back and killed the two video technicians and the third torturer who was cowering behind the table, then pivoted back to target the hostage holder. "I'll give you this. I won't put you on that table, I won't turn you over to the girls and I won't do more than break your back in the lumbar region. But you don't get the use of your dick. Take it or leave it." "I will kill her," the man said, angrily. "You don't understand that?" "You are one lousy negotiator," Kevin said and put a round through his forehead. The knife nicked the girl's neck and that was about it. The body slumped backwards. "Never bluff if you're not even holding cards." He walked over to the girl on the table, who even as screwed as she was looked pretty damned good, and looked her in the eye. "You probably don't want to see guys at the moment or have them near you, so I'll get one of the girls to let you go," he said, nodding, then turned to the room. "Which one's got the keys?" "The one that was holding Rachel hostage," one of the girls in the front rank said, gesturing with her chin. "Who are you?" "A very bad man," Kevin said, stooping down and going through the guy's pockets. "Who, in this one case, is willing to be a good guy for awhile. But if I don't get at least a feel out of this, I'm going to be mighty pissed." One of the girls in the front rank, dropped her head and shook it. "How can you say something like that?" she shrieked. "You're as bad as them!" "Yep, sure am," Kevin said, standing up and holding the keys. "I was in the Fifth Succession War, you weak-kneed civilians! But if you want to get out of this place alive, and not end up back where you are right now, you'd all better get really damned frosty, really damned quick. Quit crying, quit bitching, quit quitting on me and get GAWD DAMNED FROSTY. Because right now it's just me. And I'm not going to be able to hold this damned place by myself. I'm going to need help. Even nekkid female help will do. And I'm not going to use these damned keys until I get a big 'HOOWAH' out of y'all. Because if I can't get a big hoowah, then you're totally useless to me, and I'll just god damned leave you to be raped. Am I CLEAR HERE? Now let me here you give me a big HOOWAH!" "What?" "What's hooyah?" "Who? Us?" "HOO-WAH!" "Ah, now there was one solid hoowah out there. You all heard it. Now, all of you, give me one great big hoowah, or I'm walking out the door!" "HOO-WAH!" "There were some wimpy ones in there," Kevin admitted. "But, overall, I'll give you a sixty, with the curve that comes up to eighty." He stepped off the dais and applied the key to the first rank on both sides and then stepped down the aisle. "Where was that solid hoowah?" he asked, looking at the girls. "Here," Amy said, lifting her chin. "What are you, MI6?" "Bite your tongue," Kevin said. He unchained that rank and looked at the girl on the far end. "Pull it through, honey. I needs this girl. I wants her and I needs her.” "Okay," he said, stepping back up on the dais. "Get this girl loose, do what you can for her. I have some errands I need to run. I'd like most of you to stay in your seats or sitting down at least. Do not open that door until I tell you. Some of you bigger girls, drag the bodies over by the door, we might need them later. Waste not, want not." "What are you going to need bodies for?" a short-coupled blonde who had sidled past him to get to the girl on the table asked. "Barricades," Kevin said. "Other than sandbags, there's not much better than a fresh dead body to use as cover." "That is gross," another girl snapped. "Could you quit being so . . ." "Mean?" Kevin asked, angrily. "Hard? Macho? Male? Conservative? Overbearing? I just tracked you gawd damned wenches from the moon’s orbit by getting the bends in the pressurized nose wheel of an DropShip, getting busted up holding onto the underside of a damned truck, getting stuck in holes and getting touched by mustard gas! Not to mention killing about twenty of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents that kidnapped you and were torturing you! Do NOT give me any of your whining PC liberal bullshit! This is why guys like me hate you phuking whiners! We don't have time for you to go all weepy! Do you understand me?" "Yes, sir," the girl said, meekly. "You," Kevin said, pointing at the solid hoowah. "Name." "Amy," the girl said. "Private Amy Townsend, Army ROTC." "Amy will do," Kevin replied. "Call me ‘Katana’. Rorynexs" he said, turning and pointing to the weapons with two fingers. "Can you use one?" "Yes, sir," Amy replied, crossing to the weapons and picking one up. Then she suddenly bent over and gagged. "Sorry." "Dead bodies do that," Kevin said, picking up some sort of big bone saw off the floor. "Cover the door." He walked out and looked up and down the corridor. Still no sign of reaction. Good. He grabbed the second Rorynex off the guard along with their web gear and slung one of the latter on. They not only had six magazines of ammo, the grenade pouches had fragmentation grenades in them. He shook his head at that. Frags were a good way to frag yourself; he hated the damned things. He put his mask back on and went in the viewing room. The tall man had quit twitching as had the rest. He pulled the rest of the "samples" out of the bag, and the C8, then took the knife to the Insurgent's neck, cutting off the head. It was still pretty drippy when he dropped it in the bag. He left the two Rorynexs in the room, but took the ammo and went down the corridor to the door that had been a broom closet in the other one. Sure enough, there was a sink. He rinsed off the outside of the sample case, the Rorynex he'd been using, the gas weapons, his gloves, and finally unmasked. The air had a faint tinge of mustard that made him gag, as much from his clothes he suspected as anything, but it was survivable. He walked back to the torture room and tried the room across from it. It was being used as a storeroom as well. Not much useable except more railroad flares. He realized that they must be used for emergency lighting if there was a power outage in the building. He put the case of them by the door, putting a few in his back pocket, and left it open. After that he walked back to the torture room. When he got back the room had, remarkably, organized itself. The girl had been taken off the table and was on the floor with two girls trying to staunch her wounds with more or less clean cloth taken from the bodies. The rest of the girls had mostly huddled by the walls, although a couple were puzzling over the video and computer equipment. "I'm the only one with any firearms experience," Amy said. She'd put on one of the assault vests and Kevin found the sight very fetching. "That look really suits you," Kevin said. "Really really suits you. Probably too well for my present lackanookie condition." "Thanks," Amy said dryly. "I don't suppose there are any clothes around?" "Nope. Okay, ladies, listen up," he continued, looking at the room. Most of the girls had seated themselves along the walls, as being more comfortable than the seats. "The good guys should be on their way soon. We have to hold this position for a few hours until they get here. We're just going to hang out here and wait for the good guys. Of course, the bad guys are closer, so we're going to have to engage them for a time. I need two girls who can run and one more that has guts and has played softball." Some of the girls stood up and started forward but most sat down when there were other volunteers. "Who's the runners?" Kevin asked. "Amy, get the door open and cover down the corridor that way," he said pointing behind him. "I can run, and I played softball," one of the girls said. She was a strongly built brunette with a nice set of hooters that even without a bra stood high and firm. "And my eyes are up here." "I've made my decision," Kevin said, continuing to stare at the tits for a second, then reaching into his harness and extracting a grenade. "Ever seen one of these?" "Grenade?" the girl asked. "Just like a baseball, with some differences," Kevin replied. "Safety pin. Actuating spoon. Place the web of your right thumb over the spoon, maintaining a firm grip," he said, shoving the grenade into the girl's hand in the correct manner. "Keep squeezing the spoon. Straighten the pin. Pull pin. Throw grenade. Remember, once the pin is out of Mr. Grenade, Mr. Grenade is no longer your friend. Got it?" "Got it," the girl said nervously. "Runners?" Kevin asked the other two. "Yesss," a slim blonde said. "Well, we're probably going to be killing a few bad guys," he said, pointing to the two dead guards on the floor. "And we're going to need ammo to do it. Your job will be, when I tell you, to run to the bodies and retrieve ammo." "Okay," the brunette next to her said, looking at the bodies. "That's not going to be fun, is it?" "Nope," Kevin said, looking at the three. "You've all probably got names like Jenny or Ashley or Chelsea or something. But I can't keep track. So you're getting team nicknames." He looked at the thrower and nodded. "You're Babe. For Babe Ruth. Blondie is Bambi and brownie is Thumper." "I don't like those nicknames," Bambi said. "My name's Britney." "You're phuking joking," Kevin said. "If you had better tits, you could be a dead ringer for her, too. But I don't really give a rat's ass if you don't like your handle, right now, you're nothing but meat, not even meat. Meat have at least been through BUDS. You're nobody. I should call you meat one two and three! You have to do something to get a better one. I was Ass-boy for a year after being in Cambridge, so don't give me shit about handles." "Ass-boy?" Amy asked from the door. "Don't ask," Kevin said with a sigh. "It's a long story. I kept trying for Winter born but nobody had a clue what I was talking about. Thumper," he continued, taking the flares out of his pocket. "If the lights go out, your first job is to light those. Got it?" "Yes," Thumper said. "Can I at least be Flower?" "No. You cannot be Flower. You are Thumper." Kevin walked out of the room and down the corridor to the doors he'd entered by. He could hold one end of the corridor, but not both. The door had a bolt on the inside but that was not going to hold against even a Free Skondia Mutineers assault. He knew what would, though, so he opened up the door and tossed the VX grenade through, quickly closing the door and bolting it. There was shouting from the far side, but it quit pretty quick. Then he trotted back to the torture room, cursing his aching knees, and went to the phone. "Need to make a call?" Amy asked. "And what was that you tossed through the door?" "You were supposed to be covering the other direction," Kevin said, picking up the phone and dialing a combination. He smiled faintly at the distant explosion. "And it was a VX grenade." "A what?" Amy snapped. "You're joking?" "Nope, welcome to WMD central," Kevin said, stepping out the door. "Now, the back way is pretty well blocked, what with the VX and the explosives I placed in the production area." As he said that there was another, louder but deeper explosion. "Secondaries are always nice. But that way," he said, pointing at the far end of the corridor, "leads, I think, to the surface. And we're about to get company," he finished as pounding footsteps were heard on the stairs. "Don't look at their faces and don't think of people. They're just targets. Service the targets." "Yes, sir," Amy said. " ‘Katana’," Kevin replied as the door opened and he serviced the first guy through the door. He was a Free Skondia Mutineers Corporal like the two guards, black T-shirt and camouflage pants, and he dropped like a sack when hit in the chest. But there were more behind. Kevin engaged two tangos in the doorway, one of whom got off some shots, and tracked to service another but he was already down. He heard Amy gagging again and shot one on the landing to stop the first wave. "Reload!" he snapped, covering the landing. He could hear Amy fumbling the reload but he wasn't worried about it. "You've got rounds left. Toss that one in the room. If it's dry it goes over your shoulder," he said, flipping his own out and setting it in the room he was using for cover. "When you've got a couple partials, have some of the girls reload them for you. And lay out all your mags where you can reach them," he added, pulling his own out. "And one frag. No more. Give the rest to Babe." "Okay," Amy said, setting out the magazines. "So, are the Ronins . . . what? How'd you find us?" "Like I said, I tracked you," Kevin responded. "I saw one of the snatches and tracked you the whole way. I'm currently Draconis Elite Strike Team ." "For one man you're doing pretty well," Amy said, glancing over at him. "You should have seen me in my prime," Kevin said with a chuckle. "I would have worn you out." "Well, let me get my head together about all this," she said, gesturing over her shoulder, "and I'll be the first in line to screw you so good it stops your poor old heart." "You're on, Amy," Kevin said, gesturing with his chin. "Company." WORD COUNT 2796 ................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #73 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #73] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #73 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle Overhead Airspace 20th March 3093 18:30:00 Local Gunjin Soetsu Turner was a Lance Corporal in the DEST Platoon, Strike Team Four. He had had been at Team four his whole career. He'd gone through the predictable stages. The new meat that thought being a DEST was just the coolest damned thing in the Inner Sphere but wasn't quite sure they were up to it. Then when he was "made" in the teams and promoted to Gunjin he knew he could lick the whole Sphere because he was a Gawd Damned Draconis Elite Strike Team Agent. Then came the wife, then the kids, then the regular deployments and the advanced training, and now he knew it was just a job. One of the toughest jobs in the Battalion, one that occasionally threw you a damned curve. But at the end of the deployment it was good to get back to the mamasan and forget the blood and the screams and just play with the kids. And he'd thought he'd heard it all until he heard this damned VTOL Kashira lay out this shit in a calm and matter of fact voice. "Oh, dude!" Heishi Donald Miller snorted. "This is going to be so cool!" "We're going to be DEST legends!" Heishi Adrian Dickson said, raising his arms in victory. "Live or die, we're going to be phuking legends!" "This ain't happening," Turner said, looking over at the new meats. The poor guys' eyes were as round as saucers and they were looking at Miller and Dickson as if they were freaking insane. Which, of course, they were. That was the job of the privates on the teams and Miller and Dickson were already legends. "We're inserting from a Trireme?" Go-cho Kimitada Lu asked. "I want to be clear about that. We're going to be loaded in the gawd damned transport bay? Hooked in a rotating bomb release system and, what? Automatically ejected?" "Yes," the VTOL officer replied. "It has been . . . successfully tested." "How many times?" Turner snapped. "And who in the phuk was crazy enough to try even once?" "I'll go, daddy!" Miller said. "Me! Me!" "Me, too!" Dickson said, grinning. "Height?" Gunsho Jimmy Pane asked, calmly. "Thirty thousand feet." That shut Miller and Dickson up. Miller was left frozen with his mouth open and one hand raised in a "number one" sign. Dickson was just openmouthed. "That's unsurvivable!" Lu snapped. "Damn it, I was in Dev Group. You don't go over twenty thousand!" "At twenty thousand the Trireme, especially with personnel and equipment in the transport bay, is marginally detectable, given the radar signal strength that we are expecting over the target," the VTOL Kashira said. "Again, thirty thousand has been tested." "Successfully?" Lu snapped. "Successfully," the Kashira replied calmly. “By our own DEST Teams. Just about two months ago.” "This ain't happening," Turner said, his head in his hands and shaking back and forth. "This just ain't happening." "In addition, it is anticipated that there may be significant aerial combat in the area of operations," the Shakira continued with his briefing. "Your position will be noted and aerospace support will attempt to steer such combat into other areas of operation, however, the reason that the Trireme is being used is due to the conditions." "You're talking about a dogfight going on," Lu said, with the voice of calm terror. "While we're in the drop." "Yes," the Kashira said. "Time is of the essence, gentlemen. I would suggest you begin rigging up." "Well, with all due respect, Kashira!" Turner snapped. "Fu—" "Wait," the Gunsho said, holding up a finger. And everyone turned to look at him. That's what Turner remembered. The OIC had just been sitting there the whole time, trying to look frosty and doing a pretty good job even though Turner knew he was probably on cloud nine with fear. The whacko E-5s were high-fiving. The new meats were terrified. Lu and he were both really terrified because they'd done enough to know how just completely screwed they were. The mission was shit, no idea where the hostages were, maybe somebody on the inside but no name except "Katana" and no idea who you're dealing with, no plan for the building for Buddha’s sake; ground penetrating radar hadn't been able to get anything more than ghost images. But everybody stopped and everybody turned to look at the Chu-i, even the damned VTOL Kashira. "We're good," Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka said, nodding. "Let's get it on." "Chu-i," Turner said, quietly. "You sure?" "Sure," the Chu-i said, standing up. "I've done weirder things." "Really?" the XO asked, standing up as well as the Chu-i headed for the door. "Yeah," the Chu-i said, pausing in the doorway. "I was in on the Word of Blake Assault." "No shit?" Miller asked, his eyes wide. "Jesus, Chu-i!" "No shit," the Chu-i said, his demeanor suddenly cracking slightly and a shiver shuddered through his body. "After that, being shot out of a Trireme at twice the recommended altitude into a dogfight and a mission with no damned plan or even a damned map . . . well . . . it ain't much." "What in the hell is the Word of Blake Assault?" Meat Two whispered as the team quietly got up and started to file out. "Meat, you're too young to know," Miller said, his head twitching in horror. "You're just too young. Maybe if you're drunk enough to take the horror. God. I knew the Chu-i was tough but, God!" He shuddered again and walked out, shaking his head. "Normally, Meat," Turner said, gently putting his hand on the newbie's shoulder, "I'd tell you that Miller was as full of shit as a Christmas turkey. But . . . in this case, he's right. Sometimes, when you're a Razan’s Ronin, you have to be harder than stone. When you're with a survivor of the Word of Blake Assault, well, you know that they're not going to quit unless they're dead." WORD COUNT 1056 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #74 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #74] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #74 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle Overhead Airspace 20th March 3093 18:40:00 Local Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka did not acknowledge. He didn’t have to. The alarm bell rang once. He gave the next signal, right arm straight out to his side at shoulder level, palm up, then bent it at the elbow until his hand touched his DEST sneak suit armor helmet, giving the command to move to the rear, the men in front coming to a stop three feet from the ramp hinges. He lowered his visor into place and silently began counting off the seconds until exit. Suddenly, he sensed something out of place. The helicopter was noticeably slowing. “Ramp opened and locked, Kashira,” Shujin Abrienne Antonucci informed Kashira Michael Afrane. The shujin’s voice took Tanaka by surprise. He immediately realized that he had forgotten to disconnect his communications cord from the intercom jack. Tanaka gave the men and women of his Shadow Platoon and the two Minutemen jump platoons the hand and arm signal indicating fifteen seconds from exit. His eyes were fixed on the red caution light. The sixty-four-man team was massed into a tightly compressed group, with Kashira Felix Ndang now perched inches from the edge of the ramp. Simultaneously, as the crimson caution light blinked off and the jump light flashed a vivid green, Tanaka pointed to the open ramp. As if jolted by a shock of electricity, Kashira Ndang dove from the chopper, soaring off into cloud-shrouded nothingness. With his arms and legs spread, he was swept out of sight as swiftly as if he’d been jerked by a giant spring. His team was no more than a few feet behind as they were also swallowed up in the clouds, followed swiftly by Lieutenant Lexi Shamer and her two Minutemen jump platoons. Then came Mya Vu and her Kanazuchis. As the last Kanazuchi Assault BA stepped off the ramp edge, Tanaka’s three squads of DEST Troopers leaped and were gone followed closely by Tanaka himself and his six squad mates. For a long moment, Abrienne and Go-cho Mohsan Farid stood and stared into the white oblivion, unable to believe what they had just witnessed. Almost as if mesmerized, Abrienne spoke into the intercom on her oxygen mask. “Kashira, they’re gone.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle Overhead Airspace 20th March 3093 18:45:00 Local Abrienne lost no time in easing the throttles forward until the airspeed instruments read seventy knots, half the Trireme Transports cruising speed. The cargo door was closed and the oxygen system in the cargo bay replenished. Afrane’s next act of business was to switch to a secure frequency and radio the Razan’s Ronins Battalion Command Headquarters to report that the jump went as scheduled. Then he turned to Abrienne. “I hope they make it,” he said quietly. “If they do, it will be because you sent them out into a blast of air a good two hundred and fifty kilometers an hour less in strength than our normal cruising speed.” “I hope to God I didn’t give them away,” said Afrane, without remorse. “But it seemed certain death to subject them to such an explosive gust.” “You won’t get an argument from me,” Abrienne said somberly. Afrane sighed heavily as he reengaged the automatic pilot. “Not our responsibility any longer. We dropped them right on a dime.” Then he paused, staring into the ominous white clouds that whipped past the windshield and obscured all view. “I pray they all get down safely.” Abrienne looked at him askance. “I didn’t know you were a praying man.” “Only during traumatic times.” “They’ll make it down,” said Abrienne, with a sense of optimism. “It’s after they hit the ground that hell could break loose.” Afrane shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to go up against those guys that just jumped. I’ll bet their attack will be a walk in the park.” Afrane had no idea how dead wrong he was. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle Free Skondia Mutineers Control Center 20th March 3093 18:40:00 Local The Free Skondia Mutineers radar operator in the security building headquarters next to the control center picked up a phone as he studied the line sweep around his radar screen. “Major Jesup? Do you have a moment?” A few minutes later, Major Jesup walked briskly into the small darkened room filled with electronic units. “Yes, what is it?” “Sir, the Bangalore supply VTOL suddenly reduced its speed.” “Yes, I’m aware of that. Our radio intercepted a message from them saying they were having engine trouble.” “Do you think it might be a ruse?” “Has it strayed from its normal flight path?” asked Jesup. The radar operator shook his head. “No, sir. The plane is ten kilometers out.” “You see nothing else on the screen?” “Only the usual interference during and immediately after an ice storm.” Jesup put a hand on the operator’s shoulder. “Follow her course to make sure she doesn’t double back, and keep a sharp eye for a hostile intrusion from the sea or air.” “And behind us, sir?” “Now, who do you think would have the powers to cross the mountains or trek over the ice shelf in the middle of an ice storm?” The operator shrugged. “No one. Certainly no one who is human.” Jesup grinned. “Exactly.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Black Ronin Deck 2 3C Room 20th March 3093 18:40:00 Local Razan’s Ronin Chu-i Karen Tsang laid the vidphone back in its receiver and looked across the long table in the war room aboard the Black Ronin. “Tai-sa Razan, Chu-i Kintaro Tanaka and his unified command have exited the aircraft.” The Battalion Command Staff and their aides were seated in a theater-like section of a long room whose massive walls were covered with huge vid-monitors and holo-screens showing scenes of Battalion bases, BattleMechs, and AeroSpace fields around the globe. The current status of ‘Mechs on patrol and mercenary aerospace fighters in the air were constantly monitored, especially the VTOL transport carrying the hastily assembled Special Forces from the the Razan’s Ronins and her Allies. One huge holo-screen that lay against the far wall held a montage of telephoto images taken of the Free Skondia Mutineers underground facility in the Bay. The photos in the montage were not from an a contiguous overhead view, but appeared to be pieced together and conceptualized after being shot from an aerospace fighter several klicks off to one side of the facility. There were no overhead images because the Razan’s Ronins had no spy reconnaissance satellites orbiting over the Ampheres Islands. The only direct radio contact with Tanaka’s assault force came from a civilian communications satellite used by the Steen ice research stations on the Kessel Province that was linked to the Black’s Ronin. Another screen revealed Governor Matthew Saadiq, six members of his cabinet, and a team of his close advisers, who were seated around a table in the secure room deep beneath the Saadiq Palace. The directors of the CIA and VBI, and Ron Little and Ken Helm, were also present on a direct link with the war room, along with Chu-i Karen Tsang, who had been invited because of her intimate knowledge of Free Skondia Mutineers. While they acted as advisers to Saadiq on what had been given the code name Apocalypse Project, Tai-sa Onishi Razan sat with the her Razan’s Ronins Battalion Command Staff in the Black’s Ronin and acted as consultant on their end. “What is the countdown, Tai-sa?” asked Saadiq. “One hour and forty-two minutes, sir,” Chu-i Reece Kimura, head of the Razan’s Ronins Steel Dragon Vehicle Company, answered. “That is the time our intel tell us when tidal currents are at their height to separate the ice shelf and carry it out to sea.” “Just how accurate is this intelligence?” “You might say it comes from the horse’s mouth,” Karen replied. “The timetable was revealed by General Sathen Sakamoto himself and was confirmed by the your top glaciologists and experts on nanotechnology.” “Since Tai-sa Razan’s people penetrated the Free Skondia Mutineers’s organization,” explained Tuan Nguyen, “we have accumulated considerably more intelligence on what the Free Skondia Mutineer call the Valhalla Project. It all adds up to them doing exactly what they threaten, cutting off the Kessel Province and upsetting Skondia’s rotational balance in order to cause a polar shift.” “Triggering a cataclysm of unimaginable destruction,” added Karen. “We’ve come to the same conclusion at the VBI,” said Helm, backing up Nguyen. “We’ve asked experts in the field of nanotechnology to study the facts, and all agree. Free Skondia Mutineers has the scientific and engineering capability to execute such an unthinkable act.” The Governor stared into the monitor at Chu-i Kimura. “I still say, send in a missile and stop this insanity before it can get off the ground.” “Only as a last resort, Governor Saadiq. The Battalion Command and I strongly agree that it is too risky.” Sho-ka Akita Fujinaka, Fire Dragon Lance Executive Officer, entered the discussion. “One of our aerospace fighters equipped with radar intercept systems has arrived on site. They’ve already reported that the Free Skondia Mutineers underground facility has superior radar equipment that could detect an incoming missile from an aircraft or nearby submarine with a warning time of three minutes. That’s more than enough time to alert and panic them into throwing the doomsday switch early, a situation that may or may not break off the ice shelf. Again, a risk that is a poor gamble at best.” “If, as you say,” said Saadiq, “their radar equipment is rated as superior, haven’t they already been alerted by your VTOL and the signals it sends out?” Chu-i Tsang and Kashira Nguyen exchanged bemused glances before Tsang replied. “Because it is highly classified, it is known only by a select few that our new radar warning systems are virtually undetectable. Our radar interception aircraft is below the horizon. We can bend our signals to read theirs, but they cannot find or read ours.” “Should our ground force be unable to penetrate the Free Skondia Mutineers security defenses,” said Tsang, “then, of course, as a last resort, we’ll send in an attack from our Assault DropShips, Oo-Suzumebachis.” “They are already on station in the Ampheres?” asked Saadiq incredulously. “Yes, sir,” answered Onishi Razan. “A fortunate coincidence. They were on an ice data-gathering patrol when they successfully destroyed an Free Skondia Mutineers squadron that was firing on their DropShip, Iwo Jima. Chu-i Tsang alerted me in time to send them to the Bay before the final countdown.” “What about aircraft?” “A flight, two heavy aerospace fighters, are in the air and will begin a holding pattern ninety kilometers from the facility in another hour and ten minutes,” answered Tsang. “So we’re covered from air and sea,” said Saadiq. “That is correct,” Tai-sa Razan acknowledged. “How soon before Chu-i Tanaka and his force begin their assault?” Karen glanced up at a huge digital clock on one bulkhead. “Depending on wind and overcast conditions, they should be gliding toward their target and landing in a few minutes.” “Will we receive a blow-by-blow account of the assault?” “We have a direct link to Chu-i Tanaka’s ground communications through the satellite that’s servicing your ice stations on the Ampheres Islands and McMurdo Sound. But since he and his men will be extremely busy for the next hour, and possibly coming under hostile fire, we do not think it wise to interfere or interrupt their field communications.” “Then we have nothing to do but wait and listen.” Saadiq spoke mechanically. Silence greeted his words. No one in either war room offered him a reply. After a long moment, he murmured, “God, how did we ever get in this mess?” WORD COUNT 2010 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #75 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #75] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #75 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:45:00 Local The Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent’s security forces were waging war with a vengeance. In their minds, they were fighting not only for their own lives but for the lives of their disillusioned dreams for a better society, a utopia if you will. Jesup himself was in the thick of the fighting in front of the control center, directing his forces and tightening the noose on the Razan’s Ronins assault platoons. His arrogance while issuing orders reflected his supreme confidence and optimism. His battle strategy was going exactly as he’d planned it. Jesup was in the enviable position of a commander who could dictate the terms of the fight. He was flushing his enemy into one concentrated area for annihilation, as he had promised General Sathen Sakamoto. He spoke into an intercom mic inside his battle helmet. “General Sakamoto?” There was a moment or two of slight static before Sathen responded. “Yes, Jesup.” “The intruders are contained. You and Renn and the others can leave for the hangar as soon as the engineers set the warhead systems on automatic.” “By the Apostle’s Hand. I’ll soon meet you at the DropShip.” Two minutes later, as Jesup was ordering his two remaining armored Rock Rovers to charge the Razan’s Ronins platoons, a sergeant rushed to him behind the barricade and shouted, “Sir, I have an urgent message from the aerospace hangar!” “What is it?” Jesup yelled above the gunfire. But in that instant, Shujin Jhonave Pascual squinted at the head behind the crosshairs inside his sniper scope and gently pulled the trigger of his Tsunami Gauss Rifle. The Sergeant dropped dead at Jesup’s feet, neither hearing nor feeling the gauss round enter his right temple and exit the left. The message he had urgently wished to report, on the destruction in the aerospace hangar by a strange vehicle, died with him. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:45:00 Local Mya Vu’s Kanzanuchis linked up with Ionela Bretan 1st DEST squad and took cover, as the four Rock Rovers withdrew from chasing Lexi Shamer’s Alpha unarmored jump platoons and attacked them in a double column from the rear. They came on oblivious to the two antitank weapons, Semi-Portable Particle Cannons, aimed at them by the DEST squads, who at less than a hundred meters couldn’t miss. The lead Rock Rovers went up in an explosion of fire and flying debris and bodies, forming an effective corridor-block that prevented the remaining vehicles from striking the already beleaguered Razan’s Ronins. Tanaka realized quickly that the reprieve had only short-term benefits and was temporary. It would be only a question of time before the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent Force wised up to the fact that no more antitank beams were being fired because the supply was exhausted. Then the armored Rock Rovers would attack, and there would be no stopping them. When Lexi Shamer and her Bravo platoon hit the barricade from the flank, hopefully the advantage would swing to their side. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Governor Palace Situation Room 20th March 3093 18:45:00 Local In Platinum City, the battlefield reports from the men under fire made it evident that the assault force was in deep trouble. It was becoming more obvious by the minute that Tanaka and his men were being shot to pieces. The Governor and the Razan’s Ronins Command Staff could not believe what they heard. What had been launched as a daring mission had turned into a slaughter and a disaster. They were shocked by the growing realization that the mission had failed, and that the entire inhabited planet of Skondia was in jeopardy of vanishing, a nightmare they found impossible to accept. “The DropShips carrying your Killer Whale Ordinance ,” the Governor said, his thinking becoming disoriented, “when . . . ?” “They won’t be over the compound for another forty minutes,” answered Chu-i Kimura. “And the countdown?” “Twenty-two minutes until the currents are right for the ice shelf to break off.” “Then we’ve got to send in the missiles.” “You will be killing my men as well,” cautioned Tai-sa Razan. “Do we have another option?” the Governor put to her. Razan looked down at her open hands and slowly shook her head. “No, Governor Saadiq, we don’t.” Tuan Nguyen asked, “Shall I alert the commander of the Iwo Jima to launch missiles?” “If I may suggest,” said the Razan’s Ronins Mercenary Battalion Command Lance Executive Officer, Sho-ka Fujinaka, “I think it best that we send in Dragon Flight. Their aircrews are more accurate in guiding their payloads to a target than an unmanned Killer Whales launched from a DropShip.” The Tai-sa quickly made her decision. “All right, alert the aerospace fighter pilots, but tell them not to fire until ordered. We never know when a miracle might happen and Chu-i Tanaka can force his way into the control center and halt the countdown.” As Chu-i Tsang issued the order, the Governors muttered under his breath, “A miracle is exactly what it will take.” WORD COUNT 897 Edited by Iceman, 13 September 2016 - 03:44 PM. Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #76 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #76] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #76 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:50:00 Local Lieutenant Abelard Gaudet had been looking forward getting off duty. The word had gotten around that Platinum City hostages were being held in the bunker and that his brethren would be chosen by lot to go down and rape them. As an officer, of course, he had first choice and as soon as he got off duty he was going to head down and get a taste of stuck-up Platinum City bitch poontang. Lieutenant Gaudet had visited Platinum City several times and had even gone to the strip clubs that were everywhere. But he had never been able to get an Platinum City woman to screw him. They seemed to screw everyone else, flaunting and teasing in their short skirts and heavy makeup, but not him. He was planning on showing them what teasing got them and enjoying it immensely. That was until the thud from underground followed by shrilling chemical alarms. His office was in the administrative building, but the sound and vibration carried clearly through the ground. His first action was to panic as he realized he didn't know where his gas mask was. So he screamed for his orderly. "Clement! Where are you?" "Lieutenant," the junior private shouted, running in the room. "The alarms!" "I can hear!" he yelled. "Where are the masks?" "In your quarters, master," Clement shrilled, nervously. The quarters were all the way across the compound and the wind was usually from the northwest, which meant that gas might be drifting between him and the masks. "Go get them," he ordered Clement. "Then get back here with them. If I'm not here, find me." "Yes, Lieutenant," the private said nervously, backing out of the room as Senior Lieutenant Cerf Gravois pushed by him. "The bunker," the Senior Lieutenant gasped, "the Colonel . . ." "What about the Colonel?" the Lieutenant asked. As the chief of security for the site, anything that happened to Colonel Astley would fall on his shoulders. "There is firing," the Senior Lieutenant said, finally getting his breath back. "The Guards tried to enter and were shot at. Someone is holding the passageway." "Wake up the duty Officer," Gaudet snapped. "Get them over there." He reached for his vidphone and called the officer’s orderly room. "Call out the Phalanx Security Troops!" he screamed. "The Colonel has been captured!" Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:55:00 Local The second wave were Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents and Kevin ‘Katana’ Hsu engaged them on the landing. The first one stuck his head out to see what was going on and left a red splash on the wall of the landing. This occasioned some shouting and then a group of at least a dozen charged down the stairs, firing as they came. Kevin and Amy engaged with single shots, filling the doorway with bodies, until the group broke and ran. "Bambi, Thumper!" Kevin called. "Ammo run." He flipped out his magazine, decided that a round or so wasn't worth it, and tossed it over his shoulder in the corridor as the two girls ran down the corridor to the bodies. Bambi stopped half way and gagged, but then kept going. "Stay to the left side of the corridor on the way down and back," Kevin called. "And grab some of the grenades. Do not phuk with the pins or you will be two dead ammo grabbers." He paused, considering the view as a butt ass naked Bambi bent over to pull out a magazine from a pouch and sighed happily. "You okay?" Amy asked nervously. "Just admiring the view," Kevin admitted. "Dead bad guys and naked girls. It's like an op in a titty bar. All I need is beer and steak, maybe some heavy metal or Goth music, and this would be perfect." Bambi pulled magazines out until her arms were full, then ran back, dumping them by Amy. Thumper, meanwhile, dragged some of the ammo vests off the bodies and carried those, and some loose magazines, back to the room, the vests dripping red as she ran. "What, I don't get any ammo?" Kevin asked, plaintively. "After all I've done for you girls? Nobody loves me." "Here," Amy said, laughing and sliding some of the magazines across to him. "I think they might try grenades or satchels next," Kevin said as there was another distant thump. Suddenly, the lights went out to a series of screams from the girls in the room. "Thumper! Do you know where your flares are?" "Got it, ‘Katana’," Thumper called. "I call you, Bringer of Fire," Kevin yelled, triggering one of the flares and tossing it down the corridor. "But you'll always be Thumper to me. Anyway, if it's grenades, just flatten yourself into the doorway. If it's a satchel charge, I'll call 'satchel.' Roll all the way in the room, cover your ears and open your mouth, got it?" "Yeah," Amy said. "Although my hearing's already going from this damned RM-3." "Speaking of which, the next ammo run we need to get Bambi and Thumper to get us some more guns," Kevin said. "There's going to come a time when we won't have time to reload." He watched the stairs for a second and then rolled back. "Grenades!" The frags went off with sharp cracks and then feet could be heard on the stairs. He rolled back up and had to laugh. There were so many bodies on the steps, and so much blood, that the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents coming down the stairs, who were lit up by the flare but couldn't really see beyond it, were having to pick their way forward. It made them perfect targets and before Kevin and Amy had to reload the newest wave of assailants had fled. "Have the girls cross-load this one," Kevin said, sliding his partially spent magazine across after he'd reloaded. "We'll wait until after the next attack to send out Bambi and Thumper." Amy snickered and he looked over at her quizzically. "Bambi," she half whispered, half mouthed, "real liberal." "Good," Kevin said. "But we'll make a conservative out of her, yet." …………………… "CETCOM, Sergeant Major Deyama." Sergeant Major "Skipper" Deyama of the Star League Skondia SWAT Special Forces had been going nonstop for nearly thirty hours in the scramble to prepare for the upcoming mission. Rarely did the SAS Special Forces Unit snap-kick an operation, but this one was going to be a snap-kick and in any scramble, shit happened. It had been happening nonstop for thirty hours and he was afraid that when they finally did get a "go" on the target, it was only going to get worse. "Sergeant Major, Chu-i Karen Tsang in Razan’s Ronins Logistics Group," the voice said. "Sorry to break chain, but you might want to look at the feed from Satellite Four, sir." The Sergeant Major keyed his computer to bring up the feed from the Satellite that had been snuck into the mission area and blanched. Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents were running across the compound, heading towards the loading area. As he watched, a blast of smoke blew into the air and the south section, where the loading area was, collapsed into a smoking crater. The gas that washed over the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents was apparently toxic, or at least irritating, since they scattered away from it apparently blindly. "Okay, I'm going to call the Razan’s Ronins Command Staff," the Sergeant Major said. "Good call on the direct, Chu-i, you're covered." "Sir," the Chu-i answered, hanging up the vidphone. Deyama turned and picked up a red phone. "I need the Tai-sa or the Executive Officer, immediately." ……………….. "So is this an industrial accident, or did Hsu decide to start the game early?" the Tai-sa asked, looking at the take from the Satellite. "Expert in demolitions," Sho-ka Akita Fujinaka said, shrugging. "Which ever it is, I've started the pieces moving. The Triremes are in the air already having delivered their cargo. The Black Ops Team is currently engaged, but they don't have an immediate play. The Skondia Militia GIA's BattleMech Company is coming up and the hover elements of Skondia Militia are moving into jump-off positions near the Gilbraltor border. Normally we set up forward logistics systems but in this case we didn't to try not to tip our hands. We're taking an operational risk on that, but one I think is worth it. And we have VTOL and AeroSpace forces standing by to assist, if the situation in the air becomes even mildly survivable." "When will we know what is going on on the ground? With the girls I mean," the Tai-sa said. "The Triremes are up and Deyama’s 3rd jump platoon is depressurizing," the Fire Dragon Lance XO said. "That will take nearly fifteen minutes, and that's pushing it to the point that some of the Third may get the bends anyway. Another thirty minute flight to the target. Some time on the ground. Say an hour. And it will be at least that long to get the full Skondia Militia GIA's BattleMech Company in place." "Sixty full minutes for them to kill the girls," the Tai-sa said, her face white. "Christ, I wish I knew what was going on in there." She paused, puzzled, and then her face cleared. "Look at that," she said, grinning. On the video from the Satellite, Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents could be seen spilling out of one of the side entrances where they'd been gathering. The last two were carrying a body of a camouflage-clad figure. "He could be a casualty from the damage in the facility," Chu-i Reece Kimura said. "But I'd suspect that he was dead from direct fire." The Intelligence Lance Commanding Officer had been called in to advise since most of the management of the operation was being handled at a lower level. Her vidphone chirped and she picked it up, speaking quietly for a moment and then hung up. "Tai-sa," she said, her face working. "That was a report from an analysis team. Their analysis is that there's a fight going on in reference to that door. Over sixty personnel have entered it in the last forty minutes, but only fifteen have emerged and some of them appeared to be wounded. Their analysis is that one or more persons are resisting, somewhere below ground level." "Hsu found the girls," Chu-i Kimura said. "And found out what was going on. And, somehow, sabotaged the facility as a signal to start the mission." "How many troops?" the Tai-sa asked. "Three BattaMilitia of Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents," the Intel CO answered. "And they're not, generally, the Keystone Kops you get with most Rebel armies. They fought the Sharks Elementals to a standstill in the Fort Eagle in '87. And an unknown number of Davions." "They're forming up again," Chi-i Kimura said. "They're getting ready to rush the door." "I don't normally input at the tactical level," the Tai-sa said, "but . . ." "I'm making the call now, Tai-sa," Chu-i Karen Tseng said, picking up her vidphone. "More or less to ensure that everyone has the information and knows the target." "Get them support," Tai-sa Onishi Razan said. "Get them support as fast as we possibly can." WORD COUNT 1908 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #77 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #77] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted 22 September 2016 - 10:54 AM DC-RD-06-02 #77 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Complex Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 19:00:00 Local "Target," Kevin ‘Katana’ Hsu said, firing at the first figure on the stairs. The Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents were not bothering to pick their way through the bodies and a couple of them, who hadn't been hit, tumbled down the stairs. But the rest kept coming, firing wildly but filling the air with lead nonetheless. Three of them paused on the landing, obviously picked marksmen, and tried to target the defenders in the gloom as the rest rushed Kevin and Amy's position. "I'm out," Amy said, rolling into the doorway. "Babe!" Kevin yelled. "Grenades!" He slowed his fire, dropping three in the front rank, and then felt the bolt lock back. He quickly grabbed another weapon, but by then two of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents were nearly to the door and he had to fire up at them. One of them managed to get off a burst of "spray and pray" in his direction, and he felt a searing pain in his back and chest. Amy shot the last of them off his back, but the stairway had filled with Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents again and the marksmen were now firing at Kevin and Amy's positions. He felt another round hit his leg, but he kept firing, willing the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents to break and run. "Babe" had been playing ball since she was five years old. First two years of T-ball and then fast-pitch softball in a brutally Darwinian league. By high school she was considered one of the top pitchers in West End, an area that took its women's fast-pitch seriously, and was going to U of V on an athletic scholarship. She pitched accurately enough, and hard enough, that she could probably have taken down most of the front rank by simply hitting them with the grenades. However, that would have left the grenades rolling around on the floor to . . . "frag" Amy and ‘Katana’. She considered the situation for just a moment, using pretty much the same thought process as if she was deciding to throw a grounder to first or second, then pulled the pin and spun her right arm in a whirlwind motion, slamming the grenade upward to ricochet off the roof and back down into the group. Before the first thud, and a cry of pain that could be heard even over the firing, she had spun another up and another . . . Suddenly, there was an explosion in their midst and then another and bodies were tossed, screaming, to the floor. With the way clear he could spot the snipers on the landing and he engaged all three of them, hitting one simultaneously with shots from Amy. The rush had fallen back but bodies littered the hallway, some of them simply wounded. He spotted one trying to crawl up the stairs and shot him, deliberately, in the head, then reloaded. "More mags to cross-load," he said, sliding one across to Amy. "There any bandages in the room?" "No," Amy said. "Why? Oh, crap!" "Yeah," Kevin said, sitting up and leaning back. When his back touched the wall he felt like screaming, but he was afraid he'd pass out if he stayed prone. "Fight until you die or drop time." "Where have I heard that before?" Amy asked. "Axes flash, broadswords swing," Kevin quietly sung. "Shining armor's piercing ring. Horses run on a polished shield. Fight those bastards til they yield." "Midnight mare and blood red roan," Amy replied. "Fight to keep this land your own." "Sound the horn and call the cry," they sang together. "HOW MANY OF THEM CAN WE MAKE DIE!" "What is that?" Babe asked from the doorway. "'March of Cambreadth,'" Amy replied. "Heather Alexander. Very cool song. That's the only verse I can ever remember. My great great grandfather used to play it." "I think I'd like your great great grandpappy," Kevin said and coughed. His hand came away dark in the flare light, but he was pretty sure it was blood. It wasn't a sucking chest wound but something had nicked his lung. "Follow orders as you're told, make their yellow blood run cold. Fight until you die and drop. A force like ours is hard to stop. Close your mind to stress and pain, fight 'til you're no longer sane. Let not one damned cur pass by. How many of them can we make die." "You know the whole song?" Amy asked. "And lots of others," Kevin said, weakly. "Right now I'm thinking of one by Crüxshadows from 3082." "Who?" Amy asked. "Great band," Kevin whispered. "I will not run, this is my sacrifice," he sang, softly then coughed. "For I am Winter born . . ." "Bad song, ‘Katana’," Amy said. "I really need you to hang in here." "I will, Amy," Kevin said. "I will. I hereby dub thee . . . Bo." "Why Bo for God's Sake?" Amy asked, angrily. "It's better than Thumper, I suppose . . ." "For Boadicea," Kevin replied. "The Celtic warrior queen." "Oh. In that case . . ." "Of course, she lost," Kevin added honestly. "And was dragged off to Rome in chains. But hopefully we'll do better." "So, sing some better songs," Amy said. "If you can." "How about poetry?" Kevin asked. "I hate poetry." "What, your great great granddad never told you about Kipling?" "Only 'A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke,'" Amy said. "Shame on him," Kevin replied. "This is the ballad of bo da thone, eerst the pretender to Theebaw's throne, who harried the district of Alalone. How he met with his fate and the VPP at the hands of Harandra Mukerji, senior Gomashta, GBT." "What the hell is that?" Amy asked. "The opening to the 'Ballad of Bo Da Thone,'" Kevin said. "And, speaking of which, there's a bag in this room. A sample case. If I'm not . . . viable when support gets here, tell them the interior is contaminated and it's a personal present from me to the Tai-sa." "What's in the bag?" Amy asked. "That's between me and the Tai-sa," Kevin said, chuckling and then coughing. "Crap that hurts. All these women around and not a pad or a tampon to be had." "Kevin," Amy said, quietly. "I know you're stressed and I know that things are tough, but we've really had a bad time, you know. Could you dial back on the . . ." "Sexism?" Kevin asked. "Yeah. Now I will. I needed to shock them before." "I can tell that you're really a nice guy . . ." Amy started to say. "Hah," Kevin replied mirthlessly. "Don't be fooled. I'm a very bad man indeed." "No, you're not," Amy said. "Quit trying to tell yourself you're . . ." "Amy," Kevin said quietly. "There are times when I don't know whether I'm going to slip all the way to the side of evil. There's bad in me you don't know. But I'll tell you this; if I didn't have . . . something that kept me on the very edge of good, I'd have happily lined up with the Insurgents to rape you. And dug my fingers into your bleeding flesh to make you scream. I'm not just a little bit bad, I'm just about all the way bad. The sexist comments weren't all an act. That's how I really am when the stops are pulled out. The fake part is being a nice guy." Amy was quiet for a time and then shook her head. "I don't believe it," she said and then held up a hand to forestall the protest. "Yeah, okay, you have your demons. But . . . well . . . I'll get over what happened. I know I will. And, Kevin, if you said you wanted to chain me to a table, just like the one in the room, and act like you were raping me, I'd do it. Because I know that I'd walk out alive and only harmed to the extent that I let you harm me. I trust you. I can just look at you and know I can trust you." "I hate that," Kevin said. "I really do. But . . . yeah, you're right." "You've never raped a woman, have you?" Amy asked. "Depends on the definition," Kevin replied. "I don't think any of the hookers in the Capellen Confederation are actual volunteers. I keep that in mind when I screw ‘em. It helps." "I'll give you a pass on that," she said, shrugging. She looked down the hall. "They're holding back." "Trying to figure out another way in," Kevin replied. "They'll probably try the air shaft." "That's behind us, right?" Amy asked, nervously. "Yep," Kevin said and grinned. "Let 'em." Amy didn't ask why he was willing to let them try, but she didn't think the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army Troopers would like it much. "In the fury of this darkest hour," Kevin whispered quietly, "we will be your light. You ask me for my sacrifice and I am Winter born . . ." "You're right," Amy said. "Very appropriate. Is there more?" "Without denying a faith in God, that I have never known," Kevin said, then coughed. "I hear the angels call my name, and I am Winter born . . ." "Maybe you should back off," Amy said. "I'd love to hear all of it. But . . . when we're out of here." "Okay," Kevin said, leaning back and sighing. "Okay, why tampons?" she asked after a while. "Tampons and pads are some of the best bandages around," Kevin replied. "If the hole is big, like from a bullet exit wound, you just stick a tampon in and you're good." "That's sick!" Amy said, then giggled. "Oh, it's better than that," Kevin said, shifting around to find a convenient position. "You use tampons and pads for bandages. Before Lycra and Spandex, Black Ops use would use king-sized black pantyhose in place of wetsuits in extremely warm water. And there's an underwater demo firing device that's supposed to be waterproof, but usually isn't. The trigger of the device is a ring on the end. The way you waterproof it is to get a condom, an extra large, unlubricated condom with a receptacle tip, that's for the trigger, and put the firing device in that. With me?" "Yeah," Amy said, grinning. "So, sometimes, a team will be out in some back-world shithole and get a mission to, say, go into an enemy harbor and lay some explosives," Kevin said, grinning back. "So the supply guy, a Black Ops mind you, has to go into some outback pharmacy . . ." "Oh, Christ," Amy said, laughing. "Stop! You're killing me . . ." "And ask for a case of king-sized pantyhose, several cases of tampons and maxi pads. The ones with wings are best; you can just slap them right on . . ." By this time, Amy was laughing uncontrollably, bent over her RM-3 with tears running down her face while other girls were drifting to the door to know what in the world, especially given the conditions, could be so funny. " . . . and a case of extra large, unlubricated . . ." " . . . receptacle tip . . ." Amy managed to gasp, holding up a finger to make the point. " . . . Receptacle tip, condoms," Kevin finished, chuckling and coughing. "God, I got to quit cracking myself up." "What in the hell was that all about?" Bambi asked. "It sounded . . ." "Oh, oh . . ." Amy said, waving her hand. "Oh . . ." Then she collapsed again. "Just trying to bring a little levity into the situation," Kevin replied. "Everyone's going around with long faces like they're all gonna die or something." "Amy?" one of the girls said. "Mr. ‘Katana’?" "Yeah?" Kevin said and coughed again. "Crap that hurt. What?" "Susie's on the globalnet, she's on a chatboard trying to get the word out on what's going on. And Cassie's figured out the video feed. We can go live over the globalnet. We're trying to get a link to one of the holo-vid news networks." "Oh, Christ," Kevin said. "Look, no video of the doorway, okay? Don't let them get a look at our defenses. Keep the camera pointed at the far wall. Al Jetter will rebroadcast and somebody will see it up top and know there's only a couple of us. If you're going to do this, lie. Get some of the girls and give them guns, just to hold. And . . . get the ComStar News Network. Not FNS, not INI, not the DBC. CNN." "You sure?" the girl asked. "Yeah," Kevin replied and coughed. "Tell 'em if they get anyone but the ComStar News Network, I'll kick their fuzzy bunny-hugger asses." ................. Gunsho Kevin Hsu callsign: 'Katana' Logistics Lance Hiryo Crewmember RAZAN’S RONINS WORD COUNT 2214 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #78 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #78] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #78 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Complex Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:30:00 Local Corridors ran off the square between buildings that protruded from the ice. They were not on the massive scale of much later civilizations, but their architectural Skondiacteristics were unlike any Lieutenant Andrew ‘Frenchy’ Fuqua and Kevin Lawton had ever seen in their military careers. There was no telling how many acres or square miles the habitat covered. What they saw was only a fraction of the magnificence that was Fort Eagle. Rising up from one end of the square, an immense, richly ornate structure with triangular columns supported a pediment decorated with fleets of Star League Era WarShips in relief over a frieze carved with intricate sculptures of animals mingling with people wearing the same dress found on the denizens of the Islands. The basic design of the colossal habitat was unlike any still standing from the Star League Era. It would have been obvious to the eye of an architect that its basic structural form had been passed down through the millennia and copied by later builders of the great temples of Terra, Mars, and Venus. The domes, however, were angular, and looked foreign when compared to the much later round, fluted Lyran, Capellan, and Draconian domes. A large entrance yawned beyond the plexi-steel dome. There were no stairs. The upper levels were reached by gradually sloping ramps. Spellbound, Fuqua and Lawton exited the Brunel Dump Truck and walked into the domed area. Inside the main chamber, a vast corbeled angular dome soared above the ice-covered, rock-hewn floor ocean floor. In huge niches along the walls were stone statues of what must have been Cameron Lords, powerful-looking men with lucid eyes and narrow faces carved out of granite rich in quartz that shimmered as they walked past them. Sculptured heads of men and a few women were set in the floor, staring upward through their thin coating of ice, with Star League inscriptions engraved above and below them. In the center of the great chamber, a life-size sculpture of a Star League Era WarShip, complete with banks of weapon bays, full Jump Sails, and crews, stood on a pedestal. The sight was nothing less than spectacular. The sheer artistry, craft, and technical mastery of stone gave it an eerie mystique that mocked modern thirtieth century sculpture. “What do you make of it?” asked Lawton reverently, as if he were standing in a cathedral. “A temple to their gods?” “More likely a mausoleum or a shrine,” said Fuqua, gesturing at the heads rising from the floor. “These look like memorials, perhaps to revered men and women who explored the Periphery and those who were lost in the void of space.” “It’s amazing the dome didn’t collapse due to the immense water pressure or the later accumulation of ice.” “Their builders must have worked under exceptionally high standards that were possible only under a structured culture.” They gazed in fascination down a network of windowless corridors whose interior walls were beautifully painted with scenes of spectacular seascapes that began with calm waters and progressed to waves whipped by hurricane furies beating against rocky shorelines. If modern men and women looked to the heavens for their God, the Camerons had looked to men. Their statuaries were of men and women, not stylized versions of gods. “A long-lost bloodline who discovered the world,” Lawton said philosophically. “And yet there are no artifacts lying around, and no sign of the inhabitants’ remains.” Fuqua nodded at the network of narrow passages carved into the ice. “No doubt recovered by the Diamond Sharks who discovered it, and later taken by the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army to their storage on board the Glorious Fate.” “Doesn’t look like they excavated more than ten percent of the habitat.” “They had more mundane things on their mind,” said Fuqua sardonically, “like hiding Star League treasures and secret weapons, extracting uranium from seawater, and planning to destroy Skondia so they could make it over into their image.” “Too bad we haven’t the time to explore the place.” “There’s nothing I’d like better than to take the grand tour,” said Fuqua, shaking off his captivation, “but we have twenty-five minutes or less to find the control center.” Wishing they could linger, Fuqua and Lawton reluctantly turned their backs on the great edifice and hurried back to the square and climbed into the Brunel Dump Truck. Still following the tracks left by a Rock Rover, Fuqua steered the big truck through the heart of the haunting ghost habitat and rolled it into a tunnel beyond the mausoleum of the Star League. Fuqua drove less cautiously the closer they came to the Ampheres entrance compound, while Lawton crouched below the instrument panel with his M61A Laser Rifle sticking through the shattered middle windshield. Almost a mile deeper into the tunnel, they rounded a bend and found themselves confronted with an electric auto coming in the opposite direction. The three startled Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents in the other vehicle, easily recognizable in their black uniforms, stared incredulously at the monster bearing down on them. The driver panicked and slammed on his brakes, skidding across the ice floor of the tunnel without reducing his speed in the slightest. The other two Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents had a higher regard for self-preservation and leaped from the auto in a futile attempt at serving the masters. There was a series of shrill screeches from shredding and grinding metal as the Brunel Dump Truck smashed into the electric auto and rolled over it as though it were a tricycle mashed by a garbage truck. The driver disappeared, along with his crumpled vehicle, under the one-hundred fifty ton dump truck, while the other two Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents were crushed against the walls of the tunnel by the great tires. As Fuqua stared back in his side-view mirror, he saw only a pile of twisted junk sitting flattened on the floor of the tunnel. Lawton twisted around in his seat and stared back through the slanted rear window of the control cab. “I hope you paid your insurance premiums.” “Only liability and property damage. I never take out collision.” “You should reconsider.” Another two hundred meters through the tunnel, groups of workers in red coveralls were moving wooden crates onto a train of flatbed cars that were connected to a large Rock Rover. Forklifts were transporting the crates past a thick silver steel door whose mounting bolts led deep into the ice. The massive door looked like the types that were used in banks to safeguard the contents of their vaults. A short entryway through the ice led into a spacious cavern. Two Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent guards stood stunned at the sight of the gargantuan Brunel Dump Truck, plunging from what should have been an abandoned tunnel. They stood transfixed in the glare of the headlights. Only when Lawton fired a few beams from his laser rifle through the broken windshield into the forklift did workers and Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents come alive and scramble back into the cavern to save themselves from being mashed by the mechanical avalanche bearing down on them. “The door!” Fuqua shouted, slamming on the brakes. Lawton did not acknowledge or question. Almost as if he’d read Fuqua’s mind, he leaped from the Brunel Dump Truck and ran to the steel door, as Fuqua squeezed off several rounds from his Nakjama Laser Pistol through the doorway to the cavern to cover him. Lawton was surprised by the light touch it took to push the door closed. He’d expected to exert every ounce of strength in his body, but the heavy steel door swung as easily as if it hung in air. Once it clicked against its stops, he turned the locking wheel until the bars slid into their sockets, sealing it closed. Then he found a chain on the forklift and wrapped it around the wheel, securing the end to a wheel of a flatbed car loaded with crates, until it was impossible to turn from the inside. Now the Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents and workers were effectively imprisoned without any prospect of a quick escape. “I wonder what’s inside the crates?” Lawton said, as he climbed back into the control cab. “Weapons from the Star League habitat, I’d guess.” Fuqua ran the Brunel Dump Truck through the gears until he had regained top speed again. An angel perched on the roof of the cab might have helped them this far on their wild passage, but they still had a long way to go. True, surprise was theirs, but it seemed remarkable that they had come this far without a shot being fired at them, a situation that could quickly change, Fuqua well knew. The powers of their angel had her limits, assuming that it was a she. Events had been met and overtaken. Once the Brunel Dump Truck burst out into the open, it would be a different story. Every gun in the compound would train on it. At a wide bend in the tunnel, they suddenly burst out into the almost measureless hangar housing the Free Skondia Mutineers’s DropShips. Without lifting his foot from the gas pedal, Fuqua quickly surveyed the two Buccaneer-class DropShips grounded in the center of the hangar. A Rock Rover with a train of flatbed cars was stretched beneath the cargo door of the first DropShip, the familiar wooden crates riding up inside the fuselage on a conveyor belt. Free Skondia Mutineers engineers and workers were climbing boarding steps at the other DropShip for the trip to the giant WarShip. Sitting off to one side was a sleek executive Condor-Class DropShip that was in the process of being refueled. Fuqua relaxed slightly at seeing no Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents. “What have we here?” “Ah-ha!” Lawton tensed, seeing Fuqua’s leg stiffen as if he were trying to push the accelerator pedal through the floorboard. He raised a prudent eye over the instrument panel and groaned softly. “Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?” “Once you drive in a demolition derby,” said Fuqua, with a diabolical gleam in his eyes, “you never get it out of your blood.” The reaction from everyone in the hangar at seeing the Brunel Dump Truck appear out of nowhere was the same as that of the others who had confronted it in the tunnel earlier. They all froze in pure astonishment, the expressions on their faces quickly turning to incomprehension and cold fear at seeing a red mechanical demon incarnate burst out of nowhere. Fuqua took less than three seconds to assess his route of destruction. It took the same amount of time for all to realize that his intentions were unmistakable. With a mind-set two notches beyond tenacious, he set a course across the ice floor of the hangar, as straight as the crow flies, toward the first Buccaneer. The DropShip sat high off the ground, but not high enough for the side fenders of the Brunel Dump Truck. The right front panel immediately below the side windows of the control cabin caught the aircraft eight feet inside the aft section of the port wing, crushing the ailerons and shredding the wingtip. The cargo loaders and DropShip maintenance crew were galvanized into action and flung themselves clear as the leviathan struck the DropShip, pivoting it around at an obtuse angle as the tires on the landing gear skidded over the ice. They sprawled, desperately slipping and scrambling to get as far away as possible from the thundering titan gone mad. The only sounds they identified were the engines racing through the gear changes. Nothing else about the giant machine looked remotely familiar. But they briefly glimpsed the face of a heavily bandaged Fuqua twisting the steering wheel back and forth, and Lawton pointing his Laser Rifle menacingly out the side window. They’d seen more than enough to call for the Free Skondia Mutineers Armed Troopers, but their frantic appeal came much too late to stop the destruction. The Brunel Dump Truck ripped into the outer wing of the second Buccaneer. This time Fuqua cut too far inside the wing. In a horrible screeching sound, the devastated wing jackknifed around the front end of the Brunel Dump Truck tire and hung there. Fuqua crammed the gearshift into reverse and jammed down the gas pedal. The dump truck backed up, moving the DropShip with it. Fuqua wrenched the steering wheel as far as it could go, desperately attempting to shake free from the DropShip, but the tangled wreckage held, and the dump truck’s mammoth tires began to lose their grip on the ice and spin uselessly. Fuqua threw the Brunel Dump Truck into forward and then reverse, as if he were trying to rock a car mired in mud. Finally, after a series of vicious metallic shrieks, the wing released its grip and dropped awkwardly, its wingtip touching the ice and looking like a piece of torn and tangled aluminum with a reservation at the scrap yard. Then, without flinching or betraying the slightest expression of emotion, Fuqua pitched the Brunel Dump Truck in the direction of the Condor. “You don’t screw around, do you?” Lawton said in resigned amusement. “Listen!” Fuqua snarled. “If this scum fixed it for an apocalypse to strike Skondia, they can damn well stay here and suffer along with everyone else.” The words were hardly out of his mouth when the battered Brunel Dump Truck pulverized the tail assembly of the General Sathen Sakamoto’s private DropShip that sat much lower to the ground than the much larger DropShip. No contest this time, the Brunel Dump Truck ripped off the vertical and horizontal stabilizers as if they were a balsawood tail on a model airplane. Its fuselage effectively holed in two places, the Condor collapsed disjointedly, the wings and bow pointing upward as if in a takeoff mode. Lawton shook his head in wonder and said admiringly, “You’ll never get invited back if you leave a mess everywhere you go.” Fuqua turned to Lawton, a smile as wide as the horizon on his face. “Time sure flies when you’re having fun.” Fuqua looked up and saw a Rock Rover suddenly appear in the cracked and broken remains of the rearview mirror. He wasn’t overly concerned, at least not yet. The Brunel Dump Truck, he estimated, was probably five miles an hour or more faster. He threw the big dump truck through the tunnel, striking and skidding off the ice walls in a daring attempt to inch ahead of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents in the Rock Rover. He careered through the bends, temporarily out of the line of fire, gaining time and widening the gap until the Rock Rover no longer came into view. “You’ve lost them,” said Lawton, brushing the shattered glass from the rear window off his shoulders as calmly as if it were dandruff. “Not for long,” said Fuqua patiently. “Once we break into the open, we’ll be fair game.” Four minutes later, they cleared the final bend in the tunnel, running past equipment that had been abandoned and doors leading into empty storerooms, and two minutes after that, the Brunel Dump Truck roared free under a blue ocean, exiting several miles from the center of the main compound. At long last they reached their destination and had their view of the Ampheres entrance for the first time. They had exited the tunnel at one end of the compound. Unlike most ice stations, which were mostly buried under snow and ice, the FSM Engineers had kept the buildings and corridors running between them swept clean and clear. The smaller buildings stood in circular fashion around the two main structures comprising the extraction plant and the control center. The thunder of gunfire abruptly tore the chilling air, as flames clawed upward from several buildings, with black smoke rolling high into the high dome before flattening under an inversion layer. Explosions sent debris flying into the air, accented with bursts from automatic weapons. Bodies could be seen sprawled in the corridors, bloodied red and grotesque in the floor, two black uniforms for every one in white camouflage armor. “It would appear,” Fuqua said grimly, “the party has started without us.” WORD COUNT 2766 ................. Lieutenant Andrew Fuqua callsign: 'Frenchy' Nighthawk Special Forces Skondia SWAT SAS STAR LEAGUE DEFENSE FORCE Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS #79 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #79] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #79 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Complex Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:45:00 Local Despite the long, hard training, and the bravery and dedication of the Razan’s Ronins DEST Unit in attempting to stop the cataclysm, the mission was about to collapse. They were taking hits and falling wounded and dead for nothing. They had not achieved one fragment of advantage. Disaster was piling on disaster, when Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka’s worst fears were realized. When Kashira Mya Vu’s Assault-Class, Kanazuchi, Inner Sphere, Battle Armor, unable to strike the flank of the barricade, were inexorably driven into the same perimeter along with the other Platoons. The trap was complete. Every hole was plugged. The entire assault force was boxed in with no way out. Grenade shrapnel slashed Tanaka’s armored chin and a bullet struck him in the gauntlet. Of his squad commanders, Kashira Felix Ndang’s Tsunami Raiden Battle Armor was down with wounds in an arm and shoulder. Jimmy Pane of Tanaka’s 3rd DEST squad, was coughing blood from a hit in the throat. Only Vu was still unscathed, as she shouted encouragement to the men and directed their fire. Then, unexpectedly, the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents ceased firing. The Razan’s Ronins maintained a ragged counterfire until Tanaka ordered them to stop all action, wondering what card the Free Skondia Mutineers was about to play next. A voice, distinct and refined, came over loudspeakers on the buildings around the facility, echoing up and down the roads . . . a voice whose message was relayed to Fort Eagle through the external microphones worn by the assault force. “Please give me your attention. This is General Sathen Sakamoto. I send greetings to the Infidel Razan’s Ronins assault Platoons who are attempting to infiltrate Fort Eagle under water facility. You must know by now that you are heavily outnumbered, surrounded, and entrapped with no means of escape. Further bloodshed is pointless. I advise you to disengage and retire back to the ice shelf, where you can be evacuated by your own people. You will be allowed to carry your dead and wounded with you. If you do not comply in the next sixty seconds, you will all die. The choice is yours.” The message came as a jolt. Tanaka refused to accept inevitable defeat. He stared helplessly at the huddled and bullet-torn armored husks of the dead and the bleeding bodies of the wounded. The eyes of those ready and able to fight on still reflected fearlessness and tenacity. They had fought savagely, bled, and died. They had given all that was humanly possible. But they could do no more than go down fighting, a last stand, unknown and unmourned. With honor. Bushido. The redoubtable Tanaka by now had only twenty-six men in fighting condition left out of the original sixty-five who had parachuted from the Trireme VTOL. They were assailed from the front and scourged from the rear by the remaining armored Rock Rovers. He fought off a venomous pessimism and a bitterness he’d never known before. It seemed hopeless to mount another assault, but he was determined to make one more try. To push forward would amount to nothing more than a suicide charge. And yet there was no thought of disengaging. Every man knew that if they didn’t die here and now, they would certainly die when Skondia went mad. With deep misgivings, Tanaka regrouped what was left of his command for a final assault on the control center. Then, in the silence of the temporary cease-fire, he heard what sounded like a car horn blaring in the distance. Soon it became louder, and every head on the battlefield turned and stared, mystified. And then the thing was upon them. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City Governor Palace Situation Room 20th March 3093 18:50:00 Local “WHAT is happening?” Chu-i Karen Tseng burst over the murmur of male voices at hearing the vocal burst of confusion over the speakers. Everyone in the war rooms of the Black Ronin and Governor Palace automatically glanced up at the monitors displaying static photos of the facility. For long, disbelieving moments, everyone sat in open amazement, listening spellbound to what they heard through the communications speakers. “My God!” Chu-i Reece Kimura uttered in a stunned croak. “What in the devil is going on down there?” demanded the Marque. “I have no idea, Marque Saadiq,” muttered the Tai-sa, Onishi Razan, unable to comprehend the chaotic words of the Draconis Elite Strike Teams, who all seemed to be shouting at once. “I have no idea,” she repeated vaguely. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Complex Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:45:00 Local Something totally macabre was happening on the battle site of the under water facility. The men of the Razan’s Ronins Battle Armor Platoons, as well as the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents, swung in shock. Tanaka found himself staring through unblinking eyes with a stark, unfettered expression of bewilderment at a monstrous red juggernaut rolling on enormous donut tires that burst into view like a crazy man’s nightmare. He watched in hypnotic fascination as the giant vehicle smashed into both armored Rock Rovers, knocking them on their sides and squashing them, as the force of the impact hurled the startled Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents into the air before they fell in broken heaps on the ice. Flames mushroomed in curling spires over a bursting canopy of screeching, tumbling doors, tractor treads, steel splinters, and armor plate. The monster never slowed, its driver never decelerating, as it relentlessly continued its spree of destruction. Vu shouted for her men to leap aside, as Ndang, in frantic disregard for his wounds, scrambled out of the way of the rapidly approaching monster. Lieutenant Lexi Shamer and her two Platoon gawked in blank disbelief, before they were abruptly galvanized into diving against the walls of the buildings to save themselves. Then the thing was upon them, rushing past with an earsplitting roar from the exhaust headers whose mufflers had been torn off when crashing into the Rock Rovers. It was a sound that none of the warriors, crouched dazed and stunned on the ice, could ever forget. And then it rampaged into the ice barricade as if it were made of cardboard. The Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents froze in stunned astonishment along with every member of the Razan’s Ronins DEST platoons, Battle Armor Squads and the Minutemen Jump platoons, wounded or not, and watched in involuntary fascination as the colossus, not content with demolishing the barricade, rumbled on toward the high archway entrance of the control center like an out-of-control express train, callous of the devastation it was causing. Bedlam! Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents came alive and scattered frantically to stop the beast, and were crumpled for their trouble. For that one brief, fleeting moment, Tanaka couldn’t believe the rescuer of his command hadn’t really been the work of aliens or demons from a hallucination. The curtain quickly parted in Tanaka’s mind and he realized that, thanks to the ponderous machine, victory had suddenly risen from the ashes. Tanaka always retained an image of that grand vehicle, its red paint transparent and glistening under the bright halogen lighting, its driver gripping the steering wheel with one hand, the other firing an Nakjama laser pistol out the window at the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents as fast as he could pull the trigger, while another man sprayed any black uniform that moved with a M61A Laser rifle. It was spectacle entirely unexpected, without precedent, a spectacle to make men doubt their sanity. The thirty or fewer Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents who had not been laid dead and injured by the Razan’s Ronins Battle Armor Squads and the Minutemen Jump platoons, and who’d survived the onslaught, soon recovered and began blasting at the murderous, freakish vehicle. Their gunfire slammed deafeningly in wave after wave. Bullets peppered the red body and great tires, tearing into metal and rubber, and still the monster refused to stop, horns atop the roof still trumpeting until they were shot away. Every shard of glass was shot out of the control cabin, and still the driver and his passenger blazed away at the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents. With brutal ferocity and with appalling savagery, the Brunel Dump Truck slammed into the control center, hurling her one hundred fifty-plus-ton mass, propelled at twenty miles an hour, through the metal walls and roof surrounding the entrance like a fist ramming into the front door of a dollhouse. The shattering impact tore off the roof of the Cruiser’s control cabin as cleanly as if it had been chopped away by a giant ax. The front end of the raging monster crumpled as she bit deeply and plunged into the control room in a chaos of tearing, twisting metal and an explosion of electronic equipment, wiring, office furniture, and computer systems. Her great body rent by a hurricane of small-arms fire, the control cabin nearly disintegrated, the massive tires torn to shreds and sitting flat under the wheels, the Brunel Dump Truck lost her momentum, rammed into the far wall, and finally came to a stop. At such times, logic vanishes and men rise magnificently to the occasion. Stirred to action, shouting and cursing and without a spoken command, the surviving Minutemen, Kanazuchi Battle Armor, KAGE Battle Armor, and Raiden Battle Armor leaped from their pitifully sheltered positions in the ice and rushed forward. Running through the breach left by the Brunel Dump Truck, they overran the barricade, concentrating their fire and eliminating most of the surprised Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents, who were caught unaware of the assault while they were still concentrating their attention and fire on the rampaging vehicle. . . . . . . . Jesup stood in pure horror. The gigantic red monstrosity from nowhere had, within the space of two short minutes, turned the tide of battle, wiping out two Rock Rovers and their crews, and crushing nearly twenty of his men. Like a football quarterback who’d thrown a surefire touchdown pass in the closing minutes of the game, only to have the ball intercepted by the opposing Platoon and run back for a touchdown, Jesup could not believe it was happening. Abruptly overtaken by panic, he leaped astride a nearby snowmobile, gunned the engine, and roared away from the turmoil toward the aerospace hangar. Left abandoned and leaderless, the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents saw faint hope of victory, and one by one, they detonated their implants, heads and brain matter spattering the ice. A few melted away and circled Tanaka’s assault Platoons in an attempt to reach the hangar before the DropShip took off. Suddenly, mercifully, the scene of carnage became strangely still and quiet. The bloody and nasty fight was over. WORD COUNT 1831 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #80 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #80] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #80 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Complex Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 18:50:00 Local The control room was in unspeakable shambles. Consoles had been catapulted from their bases and hurled against the walls. The contents of desks, shelves, and cabinets were spilled across the floor, carpeting it in files and paper. Tables and chairs were twisted and smashed. Monitors hung from their mountings in crazy angles. The Brunel Dump Truck sat astride the insane havoc like some great wounded dinosaur, showered by a thousand bullets. Astoundingly, she did not die. In defiance of all the laws of mechanical engineering, her diesels still turned over at idle, with a low rapping sound coming from her shattered exhaust pipes. Lieutenant Andrew ‘Frenchy’ Fuqua pushed aside the bullet-riddled door of the Brunel Dump Truck and carelessly watched it drop off its fractured hinges and fall away. Remarkably, he and Kevin Lawton had not been killed. Bullets had cut through their clothes, Fuqua had taken a shot that had cut a small gouge in his left forearm, and Lawton was bleeding from a scalp wound, but they had survived without serious injury, far beyond their wildest expectations. Fuqua searched the mangled control room for bodies, but the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents, their engineers, and their scientists had evacuated the building for the hangar. Lawton stared through those smiling yet brooding dark eyes of his at the scene of havoc. “Is the clock still ticking?” he asked gravely. “I don’t think so.” Fuqua nodded at the remains of the digital clock lying amid the debris and pointed at the numerals. They were frozen at ten minutes and twenty seconds. “By destroying the computers and all electronic systems, we stopped the countdown sequence.” “No ice shelf breaking and drifting out to sea?” Fuqua simply shook his head. “No end of Skondia?” “No end of Skondia,” Fuqua echoed. “Then it’s over,” Lawton muttered, finding it hard to believe that what had begun in a Mobile Command Van in Platinum City had finally reached a conclusion in a demolished room on the Ampheres Islands. “Almost.” Fuqua leaned weakly against the wrecked Brunel Dump Truck, feeling relief dulled with anger against General Sathen Sakamoto. “There are still a few loose ends we have to tie up.” Lawton stared as if he were on another planet. “Ten minutes and twenty seconds,” he said slowly. “Could a world have really come that close to oblivion?” “If the Valhalla Project had truly gone operational? Probably. Could it have truly altered Skondia for thousands of years? Hopefully, we’ll never know.” “Do not move a finger or twitch an eye!” The command came as hard as cold marble. Fuqua looked up and found himself face-to-face with a figure in winter camo armor pointing a mutant-looking firearm at him. The stranger was bleeding from the chin and a wound in one hand. Fuqua stared at the apparition, trying unsuccessfully to gauge the eyes behind the polarized visor. “Can I wiggle my ears?” he asked, perfectly composed. From his point of view, Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka couldn’t be sure whether the nondescript Skondiacters standing in front of him represented enemy or friend. The shorter one looked like a pit bull. The taller of the two was disheveled and had slipshod bandages covering half his face. They looked like men dead on their feet, their gaunt, barely focused, sunken eyes set over cheeks and jaws showing the early stages of scraggly beards. “Who are you and where did you two Skondiacters come from, wise mouth?” “My name is Lieutenant Andrew Fuqua. My friend is Sergeant Kevin Lawton. We’re with the Star League Skondia SWAT Special Forces Unit.” “SAS,” Tanaka repeated, finding the answer little short of lunacy. “Is that a fact?” “It’s a fact,” Fuqua answered, perfectly composed. “Who are you?” “Chu-i Kintaro Tanaka, Razan’s Ronins DEST Shadow Platoon. I’m in command of the three platoons and the Battle Armor Squads that assaulted the facility.” “I’m sorry we couldn’t have arrived sooner and saved more of your men,” Fuqua said sincerely. Tanaka’s shoulders sagged and he lowered his gun. “No better men have died today.” Fuqua and Lawton said nothing. There was nothing fitting they could say. Finally, Tanaka straightened. “I can’t believe a couple of spooks from SAS, trained in stealth and infiltration, could do so much damage,” said Tanaka, still trying to figure out the men standing in front of him. “Saving you and your men was a spur-of-the-moment action. Stopping the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents from launching a cataclysm was our primary goal.” “And did you accomplish it?” asked Tanaka, looking around at the wreckage of what had once been a high-tech operational control center, “or is the clock still ticking?” “As you can see,” Fuqua replied, “all electronic functions are disabled. The electronic commands to activate the nuclear devices have been terminated.” “Thank Bhudda,” Tanaka said, the stress and strain suddenly falling from his shoulders. He wearily removed his helmet, pulled his goggles over his forehead, stepped forward, and extended his unwounded hand. “Gentlemen. Those of us still standing are in your debt. Bhudda only knows how many lives were spared by your timely intervention with this . . .” As he shook their hands, he paused to gaze at the twisted shambles of the once-magnificent Brunel Dump Truck, her Cummins diesel engines still slowly clacking over like a pair of faintly beating hearts. “Just what exactly is it?” “A souvenir from Admiral Byrd,” said Lawton. “Who?” Fuqua smiled faintly. “It’s a long story.” Tanaka’s mind shifted gears. “I see no bodies.” “They must have all evacuated the center during the battle and headed for the hangar to board the DropShip and make their escape,” Lawton speculated. “My map of the facility shows a hanger, but we didn’t see any sign of DropShips during our descent.” “Their hangar can’t be seen from the air. It was carved into the ice.” Tanaka’s expression turned to fury. “Are you telling me the fiends responsible for this shameful debacle have vanished?” “Relax, Chu-i,” Lawton said with a canny smile. “They haven’t left the facility.” Tanaka saw the pleased look in Fuqua’s eyes. “Did you arrange that, too?” “As a matter of fact, yes,” Fuqua answered candidly. “On our way here, we happened to run into their DropShips. I’m happy to announce that all flights from the facility have been canceled.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Union-Class DropShip Black Ronin Deck Two War Room 20th March 3093 18:55:00 Local Shouts and cheers erupted unabashedly in the Black Ronin and Marque’s Palace war rooms at hearing Tanaka’s voice announce the termination of the ice shelf detachment systems, followed by Lieutenant Lexi Shamer’s report that there were no survivors of Sakamoto’s FSM force. Elation washed over the two rooms at learning the worst of the deadly crisis was over. They heard Tanaka’s voice carrying on a one-sided conversation with the saviors of the mission, who carried no radios and whose words could not be heard intelligibly over Tanaka’s throat microphone. Unable to contain her exhilaration, Tai-sa Onishi Razan snatched up a phone and spoke sharply. “Chu-i Tanaka, this is Razan’s Ronins Actual. Do you read me?” There was a flicker of static, and then Tanaka’s voice answered. “Yes, Tai-sa, I hear you loud and clear.” “Until now, I was told not to interfere with your communications, but I believe everybody here would like a coherent report.” “I understand, ma’am,” Tanaka said, finding it next to impossible to believe he was actually talking to his commander in chief. “I’ll have to make it quick, Tai-sa. We still have to round up the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents, their engineers, and the last of their Phalanx Battle Armor.” “I understand, but please brief us on this macabre vehicle that came on the scene. Who does it belong to and who was operating it?” Tanaka told her, but failed miserably at attempting to describe the snow monster that had burst forth from the ice at the last minute and snatched victory virtually from the mouth of defeat. Everyone sat and listened, bewildered, but nobody was more bewildered than Onishi Razan when informed that two men from the Star League Skondia SWAT Special Forces Unit, who were ultimately under her direct authority had driven sixty miles across the barren ice in a monstrous 2940 snow vehicle and helped crush a small army of the Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents. She was doubly stunned when she heard the names Andre Fuqua and Kevin Lawton, who she thought were due to land in Platinum City within the hour. “Fuqua and Lawton,” she said, shaking her head in wonderment. “I should have known. If anyone can make a grand entrance where they’re not expected, it’s them.” “I’m not surprised,” said Chu-i KarenTsang, with a smile across her lovely face. “There was no way ‘Frenchy’ and ‘Tank’ were going to stand by passively and wait for the world to stop.” “Who are these people?” demanded the Marque, angrily. “Where does Razan’s Ronins get off interfering in a military operation? Who authorized their presence?” “I would be proud to say I did,” Razan said, staring directly at the Marque without giving an inch, “but it simply would not be true. These men, make that my men, acted on their own initiative, and it looks to me that it was a damned good thing they did.” The argument died before it had begun. It never left the minds of those present in the war rooms of the Black Ronin and Marque’s Palace that without the intervention of Fuqua and Lawton, there would have been no estimating the frightful aftermath. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Ampheres Island Complex Gilbraltor Fort Eagle 20th March 3093 19:00:00 Local Fuqua’s and Lawton’s ears should have been burning, but without a link to Tanaka’s headgear radio, they could not hear what was said half a world away. Fuqua sat on the step of the Brunel Dump Truck and pulled the bandages off his face, revealing several cuts that would require stitches. Tanaka looked down at him. “You’re certain the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents are still here?” Fuqua nodded. “Sathen, the Colonel, and Renn, must be in tears at seeing the dropship they’d planned to use to flee the facility has been rendered nonflyable.” “Can you and Staff Sergeant Lawton lead me to the hangar?” Fuqua cracked a smile. “I’d consider it an honor and a privilege.” Tai-sa Razan’s voice cut into the brief conversation. “Chu-i Tanaka, I am directing you to regroup, do what you can for your wounded, and secure the rest of the facility. Then wait for the main Assault Force, Skondia Militia combined arms Battalion, which should be landing inside half an hour.” “Yes, Tai-sa,” answered Tanaka. “But first there is a little unfinished business to settle.” He pulled out the connector between his mike and receiving unit, turned to Fuqua, and fixed him with an enigmatic stare. “Where is this hangar?” “Right back this way,” said Fuqua. “Are you thinking of rounding up a hundred people with the few men you have left?” Tanaka’s lips spread in a shifty grin. “Don’t you think it only fitting and proper that the men who have gone through hell should be in on the final kill?” “You’ll get no argument from me.” “Are you two up to acting as guides?” “Did you get permission from Platinum City?” “I neglected to ask.” Fuqua’s dark brown eyes took on a wicked look. Then he said, “Why not? Kevin and I never could pass up a diabolical scheme.” ................. Lieutenant Andrew Fuqua callsign: 'Frenchy' Nighthawk Special Forces Skondia SWAT SAS STAR LEAGUE DEFENSE FORCE WORD COUNT 2011 Joint Post between Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS & Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS DC-RD-06-02 #81 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore 150ki Outside Platinum City Complex 26th April 3093 02:15am Local For the next five weeks Razan’s Ronins Intel Operatives performed a planet wide sweep for the Free Skondia Mutineer General, Sathen Sakamoto. He had managed to escape the trap they had in place for the slippery General over a month ago at the Fort Eagle Ampheres Island complex. It was believed that he had slipped through their fingers by crossing the ocean via a small, highly mobile speed boat. They had found one abandoned in a cove off the western coast of Bangalore. They had dusted it for finger prints and had come back empty. They had detained a tanker that the speedboat had rendezvous with that they suspected had refueled them and after ten days of interrogation the tanker’s Major and crew, they finally had a lead. . . . . A cold hand grabbed Kashira Mori Okabayashi as she fell from the DropShip, wrapping itself around her throat and squeezing tightly. Her heart jumped in her chest, and she felt her eyeballs freeze over. She was breathing oxygen from a small bottle strapped to the side of her Kage Light DEST battle armor . . . a necessity when jumping from 35,000 feet . . . but even her lungs felt as if they had turned to ice. “Looking good,” yelled Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka over the short-burst radio link inside their helmets they were using to communicate. Ino ‘Turbo’ Hoshiyama and Imai 'Bear' Myazaki had gone out first. Mori’s unfamiliarity with the procedure had cost the second pair a few extra seconds, which at four hundred knots translated into nearly two miles. And counting. Between the wind howling around her and the tight helmet, Tanaka’s words sounded more like “luck of gold,” and it took a few seconds for Mori to decipher what he was talking about. By the time she figured it out, the Aurora-Class DropShip she’d jumped out of had disappeared. Mori struggled to get her body into the “frog” position she’d learned nearly two years before at the Dieron Airborne school. Since that time, she’d made no more than two dozen jumps, only three of which had been high-altitude, high-opening forays like this one, and none had been at night. Everybody said it would be easy . . . her body would remember how to do it once she stepped out of the DropShip . . . but the only thing her body remembered was how cold it had been … not half as cold as this time. Tanaka, arms spread and legs raised as if he were a miniature aircraft, zoomed toward her. On the left side of his HUD he had a small altimeter, which had a sound alert wired into his helmet’s earset. On his right he had a GPS device that looked like a miniature compass. An arrow dominated the display, showing the direction to their destination and a countdown of the mileage. Kintaro switched his visor’s goggles from lowlight to full night vision as there was virtually no moon light out tonight. The DropShip had been going nearly four hundred knots when they jumped out, which meant they were, too. Their trajectory to the landing zone had been calculated before takeoff, then tweaked ever so slightly a few minutes before the jump to account for the wind. “Let her rip,” he told her, the altimeter buzzing in his ear as they fell through 30,000 feet. Mori’s first tug on the handle was too tentative, and the parafoil failed to release. But her interpretation of the problem was that she wasn’t in the proper position . . . true enough, as it happened, though this had nothing to do with the parafoil deploying . . . and she struggled to push her head downward and get her arms out before trying again. As she did, something whipped by and tapped her on the head. It was Tanaka. Worried that she was having problems, he shaped his body into a delta to gain speed in her direction, then flared out to slow down. He misjudged his speed slightly in the dark as he pulled close and rather than paralleling, flew past. He recovered, sailing to the left and then back around, inching forward. It felt like inching. In fact he was moving at over a hundred miles an hour. “We have to pull now,” he yelled into the radio. “We’re getting off course. Hey! Hey! You ready? Ready?” Mori thought Tanaka was the one having trouble, and she started to maneuver toward him. “Pull” said Tanaka, motioning at her. She reached to the handle and yanked, feeling the gentle tug of her harness as the parafoil unfolded above her. And now it really was like they said it would be: her arms moved up as she took stock of the parafoil and herself, making sure the cells had inflated properly and orienting herself with the aid of a GPS device inside her helmet and slightly off to the right side. She was back in control, or at least as much in control as anyone being held up in space by engineered nylon could be. . . . . Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore 150ki Outside Platinum City Complex 26th April 3093 02:20am Local Myazaki reached the bluff overlooking the complex ahead of ‘Turbo’. He lay down the bike and increased the amplification on his night-optical visor, which looked like a very thick piece of a windshield. The wraparound glasses combined generation-four infrared and starlight enhancement technology with electronic magnification to a factor of ten. While not as powerful as the new gen-four devices being tested by Skondia SWAT Special Forces units, the visor’s light weight was more than fair compensation; they were more than powerful enough to illuminate the rocky desert terrain below. Myazaki could see a warren of “rabbit” holes and days-old tracks through the gritty soil. The holes were the entrances to tunnels used by Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents, who used them to avoid the burgeoning Skondia government’s surveillance aircraft and patrols. “What’d you do, tune the bike?” ‘Turbo’ asked, walking up next to Myazaki. “Less wind resistance.” Myazaki rested his right hand on his Rorynex as he surveyed the desert. While the fewer than a thousand Skondia Militia GIA Infantry troops still stationed in Bangalore were concentrated near Platinum City and the northern fields, Myazaki figured the population of Bangalore and certainly the natives of Skondia could stop the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents if they really cared to. But smuggling goods to Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents was a lucrative business, especially for the local commanders who averted their eyes. “We can put the main post down in those caves. Watch the complex from here,” Myazaki told ‘Turbo’. “Let’s go mark a landing spot for the Skondia SWAT Special Forces Team.” “Shouldn’t we wait for ‘Iceman’?” “He knows where we are.” . . . . Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore 150ki Outside Platinum City Complex 26th April 3093 02:25am Local Mori stepped forward as the ground finally came up to her legs. She twisted slightly and crumpled to the ground as she landed, falling on her side. It wasn’t pretty, but at least she was down. She got up, expecting Tanaka to fall on top of her any second. Gathering in her parafoil, she looked around for a convenient place to hide it. Ten yards away a small collection of boulders huddled together on the ground. That would do. With the parafoil stuffed between the rocks, she took stock of her situation, checking her position with a GPS device. Their rendezvous point was about five miles away, on a ridge overlooking the nearby valley. She was supposed to hit no farther than a mile away. It was an inauspicious start to her first real mission with the team. She knew Tanaka only by reputation. Depending on whom you talked to, he was either easy to get along with or the biggest SOB in the Inner Sphere, but everybody agreed he was driven; he’d probably be mad that she had fallen so far away. Mori checked the team frequency, then decided it would be better not to call in until she was a little closer. Trudging in the direction of the rendezvous area, she’d gone about a quarter of a mile when a rich baritone echoed in her headset. “Oh come tell me, Sean O’Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.” “ ‘Iceman’?” she said. “I’ve got orders from the Major,” sang Tanaka, “for the pikes must be together, by the rising of the moon.” Mori dropped to one knee, scanning three hundred and sixty degrees around her. The only thing nearby were rocks. “Where are you?” she said. “ ‘Iceman’?” The sound of a motor in the distance made her freeze. She brought her Rorynex submachine gun up. “ ’Iceman’?” “Yee-hah!” he shouted over the radio. Mori whirled in time to see the shadow of a Ceres-Bike, a Flashbang ZZ10000 motorcycle, fly over the rise behind her. The bike had two very large mufflers at its side to dampen its engine sound. “Tanaka,” she said. “You’re expecting someone else?” he asked, skidding down the hill. “How did you get down so fast?” “Hop on. The bikes landed back on the other side of the hill. I just about tripped over them when I came down. Good thing you took your time going out; we would have been all night finding them.” . . . . . Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore 150ki Outside Platinum City Complex 26th April 3093 04:15am Local Two hours later, Tanaka watched as a large Trireme VTOL skimmed across the desert terrain toward the chemical glow light Myazaki had placed to guide it. The chopper shook the desert as it rumbled a few feet over the terrain, flying low to avoid the Free Skondia Mutineers radars to the west. The VTOL’s immense blades kicked a sandstorm around it as it flew. Tanaka shielded his visor as the bird settled in. A company’s worth of 5th Jump Infantry Battalion Minutemen augmented by two Nighthawk PA-L armor veterans and a Skondia Militia GIA’s BattleMech Company intelligence officer began emerging from the rear. The men and their equipment had been detailed to support the Draconis Combine Razan's Ronins Modern Innovated Tactics Skondia Command, DCRR MITCC, providing on-ground security and extra eyes at their base of operations in the desert wilderness. Additional troops were on call to be used for the actual “snatch,” assuming conditions allowed. Tanaka watched for the Skondia Militia intelligence officer accompanying them. He wasn’t particularly hard to spot; more than twice the age of most of the soldiers, he walked with a nervous hop away from the VTOL, ducking even though it was unnecessary. “Matthew Deyama?” yelled Tanaka when the man reached him. “Yes,” said the Skondia Militia’ Inel Officer. “Kintaro Tanaka. Call me ‘Iceman’. Step into my office.” He motioned back to a run of rocks twenty yards away where he’d parked his bike. The landing area was about a quarter mile from the small caves and overhangs where they’d located their base camp. “You know Sakamoto?” Tanaka asked the Skondia Militia GIA Infantryman. “I saw him some years ago,” said Matthew, whose ears and bones still reverberated from the VTOL ride. He greatly preferred quieter modes of transportation, though he knew better than to mention this to the Mercenary; in his experience Mercenaries never found machines quite noisy enough. Fifty-three years old, Matthew had dealt with a number of Mercenaries over the years, beginning with his very early service as a glorified gofer and eavesdropper for the Living Dragon MI3 Electronic Information Gathering division. Stationed on Procyon at the age of twenty-two, he had kept tabs on various expatriate movements and Kuritans: easy work, though the detailed weekly reports often took two or three days simply to write. By the 5th Succession War he had progressed to a liaison officer working with the LHMI7 division. Out of favor for a while, he had been sent to the periphery into exile in the Ashiro Prefecture until just before the start of the War of Benjamin, when he worked on a group assigned to prepare for the defense of Cadiz. After the war he found his way to the great sanctions shell game. For the first few months he helped locate evidence of banned weapons from weapons inspectors but soon turned to the more critical task of uncovering evidence of continuing programs for use by the Premier and keep external enemies at bay. Matthew lay low in the Rimward Ashiro Prefecture after the break out of the Free Skondia Mutineers faction until friends in the Living Dragon government convinced him to come to work with them. A brief job with a Mercenary contractor had renewed some of his LHMIO ties; eventually Matthew found himself back in service with the interior ministry’s security apparatus, serving as a liaison to “external services,” the latest euphemism for the LHMIO. “You think Sakamoto would go through one of the tunnels?” asked Tanaka, sitting on a rock near his motorcycle. “I thought he liked to travel in style.” “We all adapt,” said Matthew. Something about the Mercenary was very familiar. “All right.” Tanaka wasn’t sure if Matthew was parroting the intelligence report he’d seen or if he was its author. In his experience, the LHMIO intelligence people demonstrated a wide range of abilities, from extreme competence to extreme ineptitude. As a rule, the more confident they made themselves sound the less able they were. “So we watch for a car that meets him?” “Possible. It may be a wild goose chase.” “Not what I want to hear.” “You want the truth or what you want to hear?” said Matthew, who knew that the latter was almost always preferred, especially by Mercenaries. Putting the question bluntly sometimes saved problems and sometimes not. “Truth. Always.” Tanaka smiled at him. “But all truth is relative.” Matthew shrugged, though he did not agree; Living Dragon’ truth was absolute, after all. “What we think will happen is that he’ll come across the plains on foot, get picked up and driven to one of the abandoned military camps northwest of here, where a conventional plane will meet him,” said Tanaka. “We’re going to stake out the camps so we can hit them when he’s there. On the other hand, he may just take a car all the way across the desert. If that happens, we take the car.” “What if you miss?” “Then we punt. We find out where he’s going, and we try to get him there. Problem is, we’re not sure where he’s going. Unless you are.” “There are so many rumors about Sakamoto you can make something up, and it is just as likely to be true.” “We think tomorrow night,” said Tanaka. “What do you think?” Matthew could only shrug. “Can you ride a motorcycle?” “Not well.” “You’re my passenger then. Come on.” Tanaka picked up the motorcycle. Matthew hesitated. He did not like motorcycles and had had several bad experiences with them. Word Count 2563 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #82 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #82] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #82 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 27th April 3093 21:15pm Local Razan’s Ronins Heishi Imai Myazaki turned to the Skondia Militia GIA Trooper and gestured at the car that had turned off from the highway. It rode across the open desert, approaching the foothill two miles away. “Is that for him?” “Who can tell? But the car is like the one that left from Thar in the afternoon, an old Aston-Martin Fiver Traveler.” Just like a Snake, thought Myazaki, never a straight yes or no. Thar was a small province southeast of the much larger province of Bangalore. The Skondia Militia GIA intelligence officers there had prepared a list of half a dozen suspicious vehicles, all with single drivers. The theory was that the vehicle would go over alone and wait for Sakamoto to slip through, a practice often employed by criminals and others trying to escape the planet without documentation. The Aston-Martin would have been thoroughly searched before being allowed over the border. Two shadows came from the rocks. “You see a face?” asked Myazaki. Matthew shook his head. Myazaki looked over at ‘Turbo’, who was using his satellite radio system to talk to Chu-i Karen Tsang back in the Iwo Jima up in Skondia’s orbit. The radio had a “local” discrete-burst mode for short-range communications with other team members on the ground and a longer-range mode that used satellites to communicate. The latter was easier to detect; though the transmissions were encrypted and virtually unbreakable, the presence of the radio waves could lead someone to the user. “Where are we, ‘Turbo’?” asked Myazaki. “I just uploaded the video. They’re looking at it.” “What’s the UBD see?” Myazaki asked. A Bullet Suicide Drone, or “unmanned Bullet drone,” was hovering overhead, helping with the surveillance. It would follow the vehicle to a spot where it could be ambushed. “Nothing so far.” “Tell ‘Iceman’ what’s going on.” “Already have,” said ‘Turbo’. “Hold on,” said Myazaki. “There’s another car coming.” The trick was to let the Aston-Martin get far enough from the area so that any of the local members and ISF spies nearby wouldn’t be tipped off but to not let it get so far away that they couldn’t stop it. With two cars, the task became more complicated, especially once the two vehicles got on the nearby road and headed in different directions. Tanaka and Mori staked out the first car, which was moving northwest-ward; Myazaki and ‘Turbo’ followed the second, traveling two miles to the south. Just to make things even more interesting, a third one appeared soon after the second made its pickup. Two Special Forces Agents were detailed to follow that one, staying close enough to trail them but not take them unless ordered to do so by Tanaka. The first car took a turn off the highway onto a packed dirt road in the direction of a military outpost a few miles west of the area. The road wound around a series of dry streams, or wadis, and loose sand traps. Since they were on motorcycles, Tanaka, Mori, and the two Skondia SWAT Special Forces Agents traveling with them were able to sprint ahead and check out the site. Tanaka sent the Special Forces Agents down the road to watch, in case his hunch about where the Aston-Martin was going proved wrong. As he and Mori approached the camp, Matthew warned that a SUV was parked in front of one of the buildings. The Skondia Militia GIA Trooper had taken over for ‘Turbo’ and was watching the Bullet Drone’s video feed. The vehicle had not been there in the afternoon’s satellite snapshot. Tanaka and Mori got off their bikes and went to scout the base. A low ridge sat to the south about a quarter mile from the fence. Standing at the top, Tanaka could see most of the base area. “There,” Tanaka told Mori, pointing to the second building in the row. “You can just barely make out the shadow inside.” “How many people?” “At least two.” He pointed to the road beyond the complex. “Maybe they’re forming a caravan here. Or maybe waiting for a plane. You could land the Trireme VTOL on that road at the back there.” Tanaka dropped down, sliding to the bottom of the hill. They were no more than fifteen minutes ahead of the Aston-Martin; if they were going to take it here, they had to get a move on. “What we have to do is take out the guard by the gate, then the person or persons in the building,” Tanaka told Mori. He took the heavy grenade launcher from his pack and stuffed a dozen plastic shells in his bandolier, which was already bulging with magazines for the Rorynex submachine gun. His armor compartments had anti-personnel, class-c, concussion and smoke ordinance, along with ammo for his pistol and slugs for his combat shotgun, which he had over his right shoulder. “Are we taking these guys prisoner or what?” asked Mori. “Sakamoto’s the only one we have to apprehend alive,” said Tanaka. “But, yeah, we dunk these guys if we can. Have your gas filter enabled. Heavy Crossbow?” Mori held up the weapon, which was very similar to the type used by deer and other game hunters all across the Draconis Combine. A marriage between a miniature rifle and high-tech bow, the weapon fired a titanium arrow over fifty yards, was as accurate as a rifle at that range, and would send its missile like arrow through the side of a skull. It could also fire two different types of nonlethal ammunition: a syringe like dart with a fast-working anesthetic and a lollypop-shaped hard plastic arrow that was supposed to stun someone struck with it. The anesthetic was related chemically to sodium pentothal, the barbiturate commonly known as truth serum. It worked even quicker though it left the subject feeling as if he or she had a full-body hangover. Mori didn’t trust the lollypops and had left them back at the base camp. “Wait until I’m outside of the buildings if at all possible,” Kintaro told her. “But if you have to shoot, shoot. He doesn’t have a vest. Shoot at the chest.” Tanaka jogged to the west side of the base, taking advantage of the integral Infra-Red and electronic signal suppression system in the DEST Kage armored suit which duplicated the effect of a combination ECM and IR sneak suit near the fence, which obscured the view. He found a hole under the fence and crawled into the compound between the two warehouse buildings at the southern end of the compound. Mori used a drainage ditch to cover her as she closed in on the guard. She found a brace of weeds thirty yards from the entrance and got into firing position. The guard, clearly bored, stood with his gun down against his leg. She took a grenade out just in case . . . no sense fooling around if she missed . . . and put her Rorynex within easy reach. “Mori, where are you?” hissed Tanaka in her ear. “Here,” she whispered. “Just tell me when.” Tanaka hunkered on his haunches. There was no sign that there were more people than the guard and the one whose shadow he’d seen in the large building to his right. The building had a window at the back; he was tempted to try and get in that way but decided it was too risky. Nor did he have anything to use to booby-trap the exit. “Mori?” “Yeah?” “After you take out the guard, I want you to get to the west side of the southern-most building, all right? There’s a window there. You think you can cover it?” “Yeah, but . . . ” “No but. Wait until I’m ready if you can.” Mori steadied the crossbow, zeroed in on the guard. She’d first used a bow when she was twelve years old, hunting with her father at his cabin on Cumberland. He was a detective back then, two years divorced from her mother, a much heavier drinker than now. She could feel his hand on her shoulder, gripping gently, his thumb pressing as the buck walked toward them in the field. The guard turned toward her. Suddenly he started to bring up his rifle. Mori pulled the trigger on her crossbow. The weapon made a whispery thwang as it shot. She watched through the scope as the arrow struck the guard flat in the chest. He shook, stunned, not quite comprehending what had happened. Then he started to grab at the arrow, stopped, raised his gun again, then fell off to the side, knocked unconscious by the massive dose of synthetic narcotic in the tip. Tanaka heard Mori’s heavy breathing over the radio and realized she’d shot the guard. He moved up the side of the building, reached the corner, and glanced toward the front. He saw no one. He checked the heavy grenade launcher . . . he figured he would hit anyone coming out in the chest with the tear gas round, which would knock them down at very close range . . . then knelt on one knee to wait for Mori. Mori ran to the stricken guard, made sure he was down, then grabbed the dart and his rifle and went to the back of the building. Tanaka caught a glimpse of her as she ran. “Ready?” he asked. “Let me catch my breath.” “Not enough time. Use the gun if you have to. Enable your gas filter.” Without knowing exactly how the building was configured, Tanaka decided on a simple, two-step plan: tear gas grenade in window, then duck. Standard grenades needed about fourteen meters to arm; this was a precaution against the grenade going off too close to friendly troops. The arming mechanism in these rounds allowed them to explode as soon as they struck something. Tanaka rammed the metal butt end of the heavy grenade launcher through the window, breaking the glass. Then he pumped the round inside and grabbed his combat shotgun. A man emerged from the building; Tanaka fired point-blank at the man, striking him in the chest, neck, and face with the plastic pellets in the shell. “ ‘Iceman’?” asked Mori. “Watch the back, watch the back,” he yelled, reloading the grenade launcher and pumping another round inside the building before firing his jumpjets to land over near the man he’d shot, who was writhing on the ground. Though the shotgun pellets were plastic, he’d been so close to Tanaka that the round cut as well as bruised his face, and he wailed in pain, temporarily blinded. Tanaka put him temporarily out of his misery with a shot of Demerol. As he rose, he heard Mori scream. Word Count 1846 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #83 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #83] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #83 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 27th April 3093 21:20pm Local Kashira Mori Okabayashi’s scream was followed by a steady rattle of gunfire from a KA-23 subgun, followed by a Rorynex’s sturdier whistle. Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka ran around the north side of the building, aiming to flank whoever had come out. “Mori,” he said as he ran. “Where are you? Doko?” She didn’t answer. When he reached the back corner of the building he threw himself down, moving forward slowly on the ground. Something moved near the doorway. Mori. She bent down, reaching for the doorknob. “What are you doing?” said Tanaka. “Duck!” she told him, flipping a grenade in through the crack and then firing her jumpjets on the DEST Kage armored suit back toward the berm ten meters away. She made it just as the grenade went off. Tanaka rose on armored legs and walked toward the doorway. Two men lay sprawled in the dirt nearby; a third had been killed inside the building by Mori’s grenade. None of the men was Sakamoto. “Run up and cover the front of the building,” Tanaka told her. “You’re not going in, are you?” she asked. “Just get up there and make sure no one came out while we were playing back here.” The interior of the building had been divided in half by a wall that ran only partway to the high ceiling. Except for the dead man and a few scattered cartons, the room at the back was empty. Tanaka moved inside as quietly as he could in KAGE armor, then raised his heavy grenade launcher and pumped an anti-personnel ordinance of tear gas over the wall. He pulled up his combat shotgun, aiming it at the open doorway, then ran forward to the wall. Though he had a pretty strong suspicion that the front half of the building was empty, he rolled on the floor and crawled his way inside. A hundred boxes or more lined the wall on his left. The rest of the place was empty. The boxes were filled with brand name athletic shoes, according to the writing on the side. “Is this where Sakamoto is going?” asked Mori when he came out. “I don’t know yet,” he told her. “Let’s go put down markers for the airborne guys and then hide.” “I’m sorry I had to shoot,” said Mori. “Forget about it now. Come on. Their Aston-Martin should be about ninety seconds away.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 10 Clicks South by Southwest 27th April 3093 21:25pm Local Nearly ten kilometers to the south, the Razan’s Ronin Draconis Elite Strike Team Operative, Heishi Imai ‘Bear’ Myazaki, stopped his bike in the desert and pulled out his mini tablet map from a compartment on his Raiden Tsunami armor, correlating his position against the integral GPS device. He flipped the radio into satellite mode. “Ferrell, is he still coming this way?” “Yes,” said the Skondia Militia GIA BattleMech Regiment Intelligence Trooper. “Where’s he going?” asked the other Razan’s Ronin DEST Operative, Kashira Ino ‘Turbo’ Hoshiyama. The two Star League Skondia SWAT Special Forces Agents they’d taken with them pulled up behind them. “Maybe for that military airfield at the corner there,” said Myazaki. “Let’s move up the road to the intersection with the airport.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 27th April 3093 21:30pm Local Tanaka hid behind the SUV, and Mori crouched at the edge of the building as the battered Aston-Martin rounded the turnoff and headed for the complex. “You have the first guy out. I have the second,” said Tanaka. “Make sure that your helmet is sealed and that you turn on your filtration system. This gas is worse than CS by a factor of ten.” “No way.” “Try it and see,” said Tanaka, readying the grenades. The Aston-Martin stopped alongside the SUV. The two men inside made things easy by getting out at the same time. Thwack! Mori’s crossbow landed in the driver’s left shoulder, where the plunger tip injected enough anesthetic to knock him senseless within three seconds. By then, Tanaka had knocked the second man to the ground with a plastic round to the head. He soft-tossed a tear gas grenade into the car as he ran to the man, kicking away a fallen pistol. Though the man had been knocked unconscious by the blow, ‘Iceman’ injected a heavy dose of the sodium pentothal to keep him out. A fog of tear gas enveloped the area; Tanaka and Mori had to pull the two men all the way to the fence before they were clear. Tanaka cursed when he lifted his visor. Neither of the men in the Aston-Martin was Sakamoto. He took out a small vidcam to transmit the pictures back to Ferrell. “I don’t know who they are,” Ferrell said. “They may be with SAFE, but most likely they are ISF.” SAFE was the Free World League’s National Intelligence Agency. “ISF sell athletic footwear?” asked Tanaka. ISF was their Free Skondia Mutineers counterpart and stood for Directorate of Intelligence “Maybe. It might have been stolen inside the Chaos March and stored there, to be sold elsewhere. The external agencies bring in goods and wares, and the scum steal it away.” “All right. We’ll get them picked up anyway. Where’s the third vehicle and what was it?” “A Saturnus. I do not think it belongs to SAFE.” “Which would be why they would use it, no?” “I don’t think they are that clever.” “But I do,” said Tanaka. He pulled out his mini tablet map and propped it up on the hood of the SUV to orient himself. As he did, Myazaki told him over the radio that the second Aston-Martin had just passed the airstrip. “We’re going to be too far behind now to catch him if he stays on the highway,” said Myazaki. Tanaka looked at the map. The highway headed southwestward for over a hundred miles before approaching civilization; there were few places on that stretch where it could turn off. The VTOL with the special operations forces aboard could make it across the desert within a few minutes and get ahead of the car, but if they missed the ambush they wouldn’t get another shot. And Tanaka and Mori would have to take the other car out by themselves. “I’ll have Deyama’s Nighthawk PA-L Armor Troopers set up an ambush down the road,” ‘Iceman’ told Myazaki. “Just keep following.” Word Count 1133 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #84 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #84] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #84 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 10 Clicks South by Southwest 27th April 3093 21:35pm Local Sho-ko Deyama moved from the command area at the front of the Living Dragon’ specially equipped Cavalry TAG VTOL into the assault bay, where Sergeant Rokuhara Maaka and a team of hand-picked Razan’s Ronin DEST and Skondia SWAT Special Forces soldiers were waiting to jump. “Godspeed,” said Deyama, holding up his thumb. Maaka, about twenty feet away, signaled back. Deyama found a handhold and watched his people crowding toward the cargo ramp, eager to get into action. They were shadows in the unlit bay, and he tried to keep them that way, anonymous warriors; it made it more difficult to deal with problems if he thought of them as individuals with families and loved ones. Designed to fly through hostile territory at very low altitude to avoid radar, the VTOL used a satellite system to show its flight crew precisely where they were. The chopper banked and began to rise over the target area, a desolate curve in the highway the second Aston-Martin was taking. The men went out quickly, executing an extremely dangerous low-level drop, as if they were stepping off an amusement park ride back on New Avalon. By the time the chopper banked north, the troops were on the ground, squaring away their parafoils. Deyama went back to his post. Modified from a stretched version of the Cavalry VTOL (officially, the TAG variant), the forward area of the Skondia SWAT Special Force’s VTOL was equipped with radio surveillance and communication gear similar to those used in the Cyclops CP 10-Z BattleMech, an Olmstead B-40 with a SatNav Module Communications System and a Tacticon B-2000 Battle Computer with a few of the links used by NAIS thrown in for good measure. Deyama got on the radio to the two Ronin Trireme VTOLs that had been tasked for the pickup. The choppers were now airborne over Bangalore and were about twenty minutes from the way point. “We can hear a vehicle coming north,” said Maaka when he checked in. Deyama checked the image from the Bullet Suicide hover drone. “That’ll be them. Get ready.” . . . Maaka crouched a few yards from the road as the Aston-Martin approached the curve. The trick wasn’t stopping the car; it was stopping the car without killing the people inside. The fact that his men had been on the ground for less than ten minutes made things even more interesting. Two Special Forces corporals took positions on the right flank of the road, aiming SRM weapons at the car. SRM stood for Short Range Missiles. The missile . . . known as an “AX” . . . was designed to disable tanks as well as light-armor vehicles and built-up positions, replacing the LAW and AT-4. Essentially a modern version of the First Succession War-era bazooka, the stock weapon typically struck an armored target from the top rather than the side, guided by a laser range finder and a magnetic detector. The warhead normally consisted of two parts, an acid penetrator and a fragmentation grenade: the warhead would penetrate the outer shell of whatever was being attacked, and the grenade would kill whoever was inside. Maaka’s men were using a special ISF experimental version of the missile. Its titanium and steel warhead did not contain the highly corrosive acid. The idea was that the slug would destroy the front of the car and its engine, stopping it without killing the people inside. “Now,” said Maaka, ducking down. The missile made an unearthly hiss as it leapt from the shoulder of the weapons man. The car veered to the right under the blow, plowing to a halt across the road. As it skidded, a Raiden armored trooper jumped up with what looked like a mortar in his hands. He sighted a red laser dot on the top of the car and squeezed the wide trigger at the base of the weapon. A large, blimp-shaped missile flew from the throat of the gun. The shell disintegrated in midair; by the time it hit the vehicle it had spread into a wide net. Two dozen miniature flash-bang grenades exploded as it hit, the effect not unlike the finale of a massive fireworks display. As the air ripped with the explosions, two pairs of soldiers ran to the car. One man in each pair wielded a pointed sledgehammer, the other carried gas ordinance grenades. The back window and one of the side windows were walloped and the grenades inserted. “Team up! Team up!” yelled Maaka as smoke began pouring from the car. Eight men in Nighthawk PA-L Armor came forward, armed with crowbars and chain saws; they were covered at close range by four others in Raiden Tsunami battle armor with more conventional weapons of war. One of the occupants of the vehicle had managed to open his door before being overcome by the gas. He was pulled down, secured under the netting. The team tore off the roof of the vehicle, cutting through the nylon mesh as well as the metal. “Go, let’s go!” said Maaka. He pulled up and snugged his helmet as the fumes surged from the car. “Do it! Get every one of them out.” By the time Myazaki got there, all of the men had been taken out and trussed. Two were unconscious, leaning against each other. One lay on the ground moaning. The last sat a few feet away from the others, staring sullenly into the night. None of the men looked remotely like Sakamoto. “Any papers?” Myazaki asked Maaka. “Nothing. Nothing in the car.” “Take their pictures. Let the Skondia Militia GIA Intel Agent look at them.” Maaka squinted at him. It was the cross-eyed squint Sergeants reserve for NCOs, even those on special assignments, who give them orders. Nonetheless, he told one of his men to do it. “How far off are the choppers?” Maaka asked. “Eighteen minutes,” said Myazaki. “We’ll hear them a good way out.” Word Count 1072 Sergeant Rokuhara Maaka Special Forces Command Skondia SWAT Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS Quote MultiQuote Delete Hide Edit #85 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #85] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #85 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Military Outpost 27th April 3093 21:40pm Local Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka decided the motorcycles were too far away to walk to, so he hot-wired the SUV instead. Telling the two Minutemen Jump Infantry Troopers he’d posted on the road to come in and watch the prisoners, he took off with Kashira Mori Okabayashi to a spot where he thought he could intercept the third vehicle. Driving across the open terrain would have been difficult enough in the daytime, since it was pockmarked with boulders and sandpits, but at night without headlamps it was treacherous, which only made it more interesting. Tanaka had Mori pull the satellite photos from his pack as he drove, trying to dodge the worst of the obstructions. They had more than two miles of hardscrabble to get through before reaching a road to the northwest. “Let me see that sat photo with this grid in it.” “It’s two satellite photos,” Mori told him, reaching down to get them from the pack on the SUV’s floor. “Point to where we are and where that other road is,” said Tanaka. “Here and here,” said Mori. He took the photos and held them on the wheel for a second, then tossed them back. “All right. Let’s try this,” he said, pulling sharply off the road. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” “Friend of mine says that,” ‘Iceman’ told her. “You Catholic?” “What are you doing?” “Shortcut. You Catholic?” “Greek Orthodox, but I went to parochial school.” “Good thing that didn’t come up in the job interview,” said Tanaka. “Would’ve disqualified you as a fanatic.” “I heard you went to Catholic school yourself.” “That’s what I mean.” When he finally spotted the highway, Tanaka misjudged the depth of the ditch along the side of the road and nearly rolled the SUV trying to veer onto the pavement. Mori flew forward, barely keeping her unarmored head from slamming into the dashboard. Belatedly, she began fishing for the KAGE armored helmet. The Saturnus was behind them now, but with the road and terrain fairly open, Tanaka needed a strategic place to lay a trap. He’d spotted an intersection about three miles ahead on the map. He told Mori they would put the truck in the middle of it as if it had broken down, then shoot out the Saturnus’s tires when it stopped to see what was going on. After that they’d use the crossbow and tear gas routine again. They were still about two miles from the intersection when a shadow loomed over the empty field to his right. Tanaka jammed on the brakes. An airplane flying at very low altitude, no more than a few feet off the ground, passed over the roadway ahead. Tanaka jumped out of the car. “Son of a bitch.” “What?” “Look.” He pointed in the distance. “What?” “You see that?” “The airplane? Is it ours?” “Nah. It’s a little Boomerang thing. Or some Free Skondia Mutineers spotter plane like a Boomerang.” The plane continued on a straight line to the west, twelve or so feet above the ground. “Back in the car,” said Tanaka, deciding they’d take the Saturnus anyway. “You really think that was Sakamoto?” asked Mori. “Who else would be flying a plane at low altitude across the Bangalore frontier?” “Dozens of people,” she told him. “Smugglers, drug dealers, some other Insurgent scumbags we don’t know about.” “Nice try, but you’re not going to cheer me up,” said Tanaka. He stepped on the gas, going up over a hill and then down so fast that they went airborne for a moment. That gave him an idea. He hit the brakes and backed up, putting the car off one side of the road. “All right. Out,” he told her. “Take off your armor.” “What?” “Down to your mesh suit just to rip the sleeve,” he said, pulling open his pocketknife. “The left sleeve. Driver’s side. You can leave it on if you trust me.” “I’ll do it myself, thanks,” said Mori, holding out her armored hand for the knife. She lay prone on the ground and hit the emergency release system. “Come on. We probably have less than two minutes,” Tanaka told her. “Get back in the vehicle and open the door and lean out. When they stop and come over, drop the tear gas ordinance. I’ll be over there with the combat shotgun.” “What if they don’t stop?” “I’ll take out a tire with your heavy crossbow. If they don’t hear a gun they’ll stop,” he told her. “And if they don’t we can always catch up to them in the SUV. But if you rip enough of that mesh suit off, they’ll stop.” “Ha, ha.” “Who’s joking?” Tanaka trotted down the road. He had one shell with netting and flash-bangs, a large projectile with a very short range. It was tempting, very tempting, to load the heavy grenade launcher with a high-explosive ordinance and use it on the car; the Saturnus wouldn’t be armored. If anyone asked any questions, it would be easy to claim that the vehicle tried to run him down. No one would know any different. But he would know, and that was enough. Tanaka barely had time to get his weapons laid out and set himself before the Saturnus came over the hill. It moved much slower than the SUV had. Tanaka steadied the heavy crossbow then put it down as the vehicle skidded to a stop. Four men, all with small weapons, got out of the car. Tanaka aimed the heavy grenade launcher point-blank at the tallest of the men and fired. The launcher kicked up as the grenade shot off. He missed the man and hit the side of the truck, igniting the stun grenade and the micromesh net. Tanaka dropped the launcher and thumped two slugs from his combat shotgun into the men who were still standing, the thick plastic bullets pounding the back of their heads. He had to hit one of the thugs a second time before he fell. By then, tear gas had begun curling out of the SUV. Mori scrambled back through the front of the truck, kicking out of the open passenger-side door. As she reached the ground, one of the men began firing a KA-23 in her direction. She huddled low, grabbing for her own gun. Whirling around, she saw one of the men crawling through the truck. He had a pistol; she fired her own gun point-blank into his forehead. Tanaka ran to the far side of the SUV, grabbing Mori as she staggered backward, coughing from the gas. He pulled her away and gave her a water bottle to irrigate her eyes, then trotted back to the truck. Two of the men were writhing on the ground, one still holding his gun. Tanaka blasted each one in the skull and got the other man for good measure. Then he hit them with the syringes. “You weren’t kidding about the gas,” said Mori when he got back to her. Tears were streaming from her beet-red face. “I meant for you to take a deep breath before you pulled the grenade,” said Tanaka. “How?” He lifted his visor, and mimicked taking a huge breath but only succeeded in looking like a puffer fish. “You could have run back to the side. It’s all right. Men find hard to resist a woman’s tears.” “You’re on a roll tonight,” she told him sarcastically. “Tell me about it.” Tanaka walked over to the car. Besides a half-dozen guns on the floor of the rear seat, he found a duffle bag filled with hundred-dollar Eagle bills. None of the men were Sakamoto. The night had been a total wipeout. Word Count 1337 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #86 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #86] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV DC-RD-06-02 #86 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronins Bivouac Daimyo Mobile HQ 2nd May 3093 13:50pm Local Sho-i Torii ‘Nemesis’ Nashiro paused briefly waiting for the command holographic display to cycle through the displayed data. “Continuing ... With Zavijava and other Logistical supply lines unable to sustain them it’s clear at this point that the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Admiralty has no chance of holding either Thorin or Muphrid for any prolonged period. With the introduction of Sathen Sakamoto to the over all equation I believe what we are looking at is the early stages of a strategic withdrawal from these two systems.“ Nashiro had the system cycle through the profiles of several prior battles to punctuate the trend that she was trying to make the audience aware of. “Traditionally, for the sake of appearances, Free Skondia Mutineers has made it policy for leadership to fight it out to the last man. The reality, in most cases however; is that more often than not, military leadership tends to pull a kind of bait and switch ploy by covering the withdrawal of key personnel and critical assets with a massive force build-up. This serves a two-fold objective of pushing non-critical assets to the front lines in an effort to demoralize the enemy and at the same time martyring that large number of surplus personnel to reinforce the moral of both civilian and military populations via the propaganda generated by the heavy loss of life.” “Sakamoto is a specialist in what is classified as the Alternative Combat Doctrine, his role here will most likely be to oversee the training of sleeper agents and cell networks tasked to carry out covert attacks versus enemy assets in order to stall or hinder any further push into Free Skondia Mutineers Territories once these two systems have been taken.” “I’m not sure where you’re going with this Sho-i.“ The unfamiliar voice of one of force commanders injected over the audio channel. “The question here is how do we plan to capture him and those key support personnel attached to him?” Nashiro frowned her annoyance, having been warned prior to the mission briefing that a small number of the other force commanders resented that she had been named for this mission. Sighing softly she motioned again to the Command display. “I will explain .... Sathen Sakamoto’s job, by its nature alone, will set him apart and isolate him from your standard Military Command chain. At the same time the operation will still demand a rather sizable logistical support network. What we will be looking for will be a fairly large training facility, that while obviously military in nature, will not bare any of the telltale features that would associate it with the current military framework in place. In point of fact it will be most noticeable because it will appear from all outward appearances to go unnoticed by the current Free Skondia Mutineers Forces already in place. It will be both isolated and yet near enough to a key population center so that when the command is given these cells will be able to depart from the facility and disperse into the planets civilian population undetected.” “I’m still not seeing what you’re getting at Sho-i.” The voice injected again. “Put simply, at the onset we will be hard pressed to find our target, but given the impression that this is the early stages of a Combine invasion from the Lyran Corridor, Sakamoto will need to withdraw to the training facility to issue the go order in person. Given the nature of the Free Skondia Mutineers psychology the command in this case will need to be given in person ... Not remotely nor via a proxy. And it is within that brief window he will be in a location that we can guarantee either his capture or death.” Nashiro paused allowing what she said to sink in. “What the plan purposes is that we stage the illusion of an invasion outright by using our aerospace and DropShip assets to hit critical assets in the initial hours crippling both military and civilian communications grids. We’ll follow these up with strikes against random high value public targets to set the ball rolling as it were. Chu-i Karen Tsang will at this same time be able to deploy advanced assets planet side to stage strikes against critical command and control personnel and force them to ground. Ideally Sakamoto will believe this to be the advance invasion force and will be forced to relocate to the Training Facility to issue the Go Command to his agents. That is when we will close the net and rather than waste ourselves on pointless engagements with planetary defense forces we will drop the hammer on the facility and his troops taking out both the brain and the heart of his operation in one action.” “And what if we’re wrong Sho-i? What if Sakamoto doesn’t act as you have forseen?” The commander inquired. “Then sir ... “ Nashiro stated snapping her briefing folder closed. “I would recommend we pull out and get the phuk out of the system because at the point and time we lose the advantage of surprise and also fail to capture Sakamoto and his support personnel . . . Razan’s Ronins stand to lose almost 58% of the deployed force on the ground, and likely another 30% during the withdrawal, because once Sakamoto has the advantage, me and every officer in command will be as good as dead.” Nashiro allowed her words to sink in before closing the briefing. “I have laid out the initial engagement strategy coupled with force and manning recommendations. Feel free to review and provide feedback as needed. If there are objections or disagreements with my observations I would direct you to voice them through the appropriate chain of command.“ Nodding to Tai-sa Onishi Razan, Nashiro smartly exited the sixty ton Daimyo Mobile HQ through its side door. Word Count: 1036 Like This Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #87 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #87] Cricket Lieutenant Senior Grade Razan's Ronins 716 posts 0 warning points LocationFreeburg, IL USA DC-RD-06-02 #87 Skondia Government Building Platinum City Steen Bangalore Skondia Contested Region Draconis Combine 3rd May 3093 2115 hours, local time Reece had been busy with all the activity searching for their target. Plus he had been busy with the defensive posture of the Starport. Finally, he was given a break for a special detail. Tai-sa Razin had sent Reece on a political mission meeting with Sathen Sakamoto himself and presenting him to the Skondia government officials. Reece dressed in his best dress uniform and requested his crew to be present as his armed bodyguard. Sebastian Ventuneac, Richard S. Yarmosh, Zuleman Mandirali, Anita Yang, and Duvinse Susanti were dressed in their dress uniforms and armed with TK Assault Rifles. Anita was armed with a Minolta Sniper Rifle system since she was the expert marksmen in the group. Reece was armed with his Nakjima Laser pistol. Reece and his crew were being transported by the Ronins Trireme to the Platinum City’s Government Building. Reece had ordered that the Ronins Trireme to take off early so that they would arrive early. The Trireme crew landed their VTOL at the designated spot on the helipad next to the Skondia Government Building. Reece and his crew stepped out of the Trireme with Reece leading his crew. Anita was positioned at the rear of the group. Reece and his crew cleared the helipad quickly. The Trireme and its crew lifted off and headed back toward the Starport. Reece started looking around. He instructed Anita to move to a covered position and start scanning the area for any possible snipers. Anita acknowledged her orders and moved to a covered position. Once in place, Anita started scanning the nearby building by floor and rooftops. She added the nearby hills and trees to her list for scanning. Reece and the others moved away from the helipad. Reece and the others stopped at a wind shelter waiting for a VTOL to bring in Sathen Sakamoto himself. They had finally captured the Free Skondia Mutineers agent and were bringing him in to present to the Skondia government officials. Reece received a communication informing him that the VTOL was on final approach to the Skondia Government building. Reece alerted his crew about the incoming VTOL. Reece checked with Anita on her progress. She reported that she had not spotted anything yet. The three Indomitable VTOLS approached the helipad. The Indomitables changed positions and then one started landing. The remaining two Indomitables maintained air cover while in the hover mode and rotating in a 180 degree arc. The landing Indomitable touched down and a squad of infantry stepped out with a man in the center of them. The man in the center was Sathen Sakamoto and wearing full body armor. The infantry squad spotted Reece and started moving toward Reece. Suddenly, a shot rang out taking down one of the infantrymen. Reece shouted in his headset as he moved. “Anita, taking fire from the southwest. One infantryman down. Take out the shooter quickly.” Reece instructed. “Affirmative, Chu-i Kimura.” Anita responded. Anita started scanning potential sniper positions to the southwest. As Anita scanned, Reece moved in a dead run toward the soldiers and Sathen Sakamoto. The soldiers were in defensive mode and kneeling. Sathen Sakamoto was totally exposed but Reece was determined to do something about it. Reece was just at the soldier’s perimeter when he jumped for Sathen Sakamoto. Reece impacted into Sathen Sakamoto and twisting to take the man down. The two men landed on the ground. Reece felt the wind knocked out of him when he realized he was bleeding from the chest. “Man down. Medical team pronto.” Reece whispered. Anita spotted the shooter and quickly zeroed in on his position. When the shooter popped up, Anita gently stroker the trigger on her Minolta. She viewed through her scope the red mist coming from the man’s back and the man dropped instantly with his rifle hitting the ground. Reece’s crew were just a breath behind their tank commander. The four grabbed Sathen Sakamoto and got the squad of soldiers moving into the Skondia Government building. Anita had moved over to the helipad where Reece was laying. She realized he was bleeding and pulled out her medkit. She placed patches on the entry and exit wounds. She could tell that the round had damaged Reece’s lung due to the sound. Reece passed out. The medics arrived and started treating Reece. They called in an Emergency Transport. The ET VTOL landed and the medics loaded Reece into the craft. The ET VTOL went full power during take off and headed directly to the nearest hospital. The craft landed and the hospital staff was waiting. They rushed Reece into the ER Surgical room and the doctors went to work. Platinum City General Hospital Steen Bangalore Skondia Contested Region Draconis Combine 4th May 3093 0915 hours, local time Reece awakened in the Intensive Care Unit of the hospital. When he turned his head, he saw the IVs and blood bags hanging on the medical tree. Turning his head further, he noticed Anita sitting a sleep in the room’s chair. He was feeling the aches and pains but his chest was on fire. He lifted up the covers and noticed the huge bandage on the right side of his chest with a slight blood discoloration. Suddenly, Anita moved. “How long have I been out of the action?” Reece asked. “Chu-i Kimura, you have been unconscious for approximately 12 hours.” Anita answered. “Have you been sleeping there the entire time?” Reece asked. “No, the crew rotated and I took the morning time frame.” Anita responded. “Did we get Sathen Sakamoto safely into custody?” Reece inquired. “No Chu-i. It was a setup. We were ambushed. I was able to eliminate the threat just after you were shot and kept our men covered until they retreated to safety. Doctors say that your entire right lung was destroyed due to the special ammo that the shooter was using. It was touch and go for a while.” Anita responded. “Anyone else visit?” Reece asked. “Tai-sa Razan was here and talked with the doctors for a while. When you get healed up, you are on light duty until you adjust to the missing lung. Doctors did say they could give you a replacement but you will still be out for the same length of time. The replacement has been approved by the Tai-sa. She actually has spared no expense in your care. She has brought in the full might of our on world forces to locate the target.” Anita informed. “Don’t blame her for that decision. Hopefully, the recovery will be as quick as my body can deal with.” Reece stated. WC = 1,211 Like This Name: Kasumi 'Badger' McKenna Rank: Primus Sarcina Recter (Colonel) Position: Black Wolf Rangers Brigade Executive Officer 2nd Ranger Expeditionary Force Commanding Officer Assigned Battlemech: Mad Cat Mk II Assigned Unit: Black Wolves Rangers 2nd Ranger Expeditionary Force – Storm Wolves Black Wolf Rangers Mercenary Brigade Title: Knight Protector of Cimeron Name: Elijah 'Cricket' Callahan Rank: Major Position: Battalion Commanding Officer Assigned Battlemech: Timber Wolf S "Night Shadow" Assigned Unit: Marauder Striker Company CO, Bloody Marauders Battalion, sub-unit Black Stars Mercenary Regiment Name: Reece 'Budda's Fist' Kimura Rank: Chu-i Assigned: Narukami Heavy Tank Assigned Unit: Dragon Scale Lance Razan's Ronins Name: Phoenix 'Dragon' Magnus Rank: MechWarrior Sergeant Position: 2nd in Medium Lance Assigned Battlemech: Clint CLNT-2-3U Assigned Unit: Battlemech Company, Storm's Armored Cavalry Former: CO of Royal Corvax Cluster #88 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #88] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #88 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Passageway Airspace Iwo Jima Bridge 27th May 3093 22:00pm Local For the next three weeks, Tai-sa Onishi Razan had spent an agonizing amount of resources attempting to track down the slippery Free Skondia Mutineers General Sathen Sakamoto. Four days ago her Ronins had gotten a tip that Sakamoto was constantly on the move aboard a Teppô Artillery Support Vehicle. His latest plot was to use the Teppô’s Artillery Piece to destroy a civilian supply convoy. Tai-sa Razan’s assets had been constantly monitoring the progress of both units since the 23rd of May in preparation to intercept Sakamoto and thwart his efforts one last time. She had given the order to terminate the General if necessary. The Teppô Artillery Support Vehicle had barely moved since the last patrol, but now that night was falling, Chu-i KarenTsang the Razan’s premier Intelligence Officer, predicted it would fire its engines from idling to military power, take a look around, then proceed. And sure enough, as the Living Dragon Oo-Suzumebachi-Class DropShip circled to the north to get a better look at the Skondia supply convoy which included a two hundred ton Galaport Ground Tug that had come through the Baibars earlier in the day, the Free Skondia Mutineers super heavy combat vehicle began nudging forward. The SpacePort in Platinum City, is the only one large enough for commercial use on Skondia. Consumers of all shapes and sizes came and went on no schedule but their own. The SpacePort operates around the clock, seven days a week, every day of the Skondiaian year. The port consists of thousands of DropShip pits across a sea of reinforced ferrocrete. Those DropShip pits are serviced by massive tracked crawlers, hauling equally massive trailers that carries cargo and consumables to the waiting interplanetary craft. A score of crawlers prowl the ferrocrete, pulling thousands of trailers. The drivers’ union claims that they moved more beans and bullets than any military in history. Fusion powered, the crawlers are behemoths. The tractor itself is almost eight meters tall, and the trailers are of a similar size. They mount a powerful searchlight to see through the thick clouds of dust kicked up by DropShips lifting off and landing. The tug’s hulls, while not reinforced to military standards, are armored to protect them from accidents and other dangers of the tarmac. The trailer designed for the ground tug is as massive as the tractor. Because long trains of Light weight trailers (typical of airports) would be too unwieldy with hundreds of tons of DropShip cargo, the trailers are designed to accept as much cargo as possible in as few cars as possible. A single tractor-trailer combination can move almost five hundred tons of cargo or equipment at a time. Aside from the simple cargo trailer, a refueling trailer, fitted with insulated tanks, provides liquid hydrogen reaction mass to grounded DropShips when the dedicated “water buffaloes” are otherwise occupied. “Here we go, Major,” said Gunjin Himanshu Shah a crewmen aboard the Sabaku Kaze Heavy Scout Tank, monitoring it with the Bullet Drone, addressing the Major of the circling Oo-Suzumebachi-Class DropShip. “Good. ‘Borrow’, you hear that?” Major Casarez asked. “Swarm leader,” said Lieutenant Barry 'Borrow' Normore, the Living Dragon Cavalry pilot, acknowledging. Major Dulce 'Bullet' Casarez was about to hook into the Fulcrum Heavy Hovertank II when the Razan’s Ronins communications channel buzzed with an incoming Eyes Only message. ‘Bullet’ gave his verbal password, then tapped the keypad at the right side of the screen, clearing the transmission in. Lieutenant General LaFayette Hughes’s face came on the screen tight beamed down from the Zenith JumpPoint. “Major, the LHMIIO has just authorized the pursuit of all Free Skondia Mutineers personnel in enemy held territory anywhere and everywhere on the entirety of Skondia.” Good, thought ‘Bullet’. And bad. “Thank you, Lieutenant General. I’ll talk to Major Kochel.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Bison Fire Lance Fulcrum Heavy Hover Tank II (ELRM) 1500 k Southeast of Platinum City 27th May 3093 22:05pm Local “Go ahead,” the Razan’s Ronins techie told Major Jeffrey 'Tiger' Kochel. “it’s a channel on your com system. You’re always connected now.” ‘Tiger’ looked down and pressed the button on the box on his belt. “Major Kochel.” “The LHMIIO is approving the resolution allowing us to attack anywhere on Skondia,” ‘Bullet’ told him. “We should get the official word in a few hours. I thought you’d like a heads-up.” A peace offering? Between that and sending the world’s most beautiful woman to his Fulcrum, Casarez might yet prove human. “Good. We’ll move in and get this bastard,” said ‘Tiger’. “No. Too soon.” “Why do you have to disagree with everything I say, Casarez?” “I don’t disagree with everything you say. Just things that need to be disagreed with.” “Explain yourself,” said ‘Tiger’ tightly. “If we attack now, we just get the Teppô Artillery Support Vehicle, and the patrolling hovers,” continued ‘Bullet’. “You want their base. Nothing’s changed . . . except that in a few hours we’ll be able to do something about them, once and for all.” “We have some places we think are likely candidates,” said ‘Tiger’. “We can hit them one by one, after we take out the Teppô.” “Or we can follow it to the candidate,” said ‘Bullet’. “And, as an extra bonus, if we wait, we can do it right.” By tomorrow night we can have two DropShips, each with two flights of attack VTOLs. And more important, rested crews. We can bring the Star League’s Skondia SWAT people up during the day, and they can spearhead the land attack, along with the 5th Jump Infantry tactical teams.” “The DEST Teams are good to go now,” said ‘Tiger’, using the abbreviation for the specially trained teams of soldiers who specialized in covert ops and dealing with difficult situations on land. The letters stood for Draconis Elite Strike Team. “But I don’t have enough of them. I’m bringing in Ronin’s Battle Armor.” “All the better.” ‘Tiger’ looked down at the deck. Once again Casarez was right. Attacking now might be bold, but it was also likely to be rash. Wait twenty-four hours, and they’d have more firepower. More important, they’d have a coherent plan, rather than reacting ad hoc. Of course. That was the decision he would have made himself once he’d thought it out. He was resisting only because it was Casarez who’d suggested it. “Be ready to act if something changes,” ‘Tiger’ told him. “I always am.” . . . Kam Ogunleye, the Black Ronin’s Dropship Master Technician on loan to the reinforced vehicle company watched ‘Tiger’ as he ended the conversation with ‘Bullet’. His whole manner had changed as soon as he started talking with the Major. She had seen the type before: fine, even supportive, when dealing with subordinates who didn’t threaten them by questioning their decisions; but come on too strong, and they reacted like an elephant protecting its place in the herd. She picked up a headset and plugged into the circuit. “ ‘Bullet’?” “Hey, Kam.” “We’re set to try connecting into the DropShip’s radar system. But I’m worried that we’ll throw you off if something goes wrong here.” “So what do we do?” “It might be best to run it when Indomitable is coming off patrol. We can isolate it to that system, then bring it up. Worst case then, we just blind one DropShip.” Indomitable was the second Oo-Suzumebachi-Class DropShip assigned to this operation, dubbed Immediate Freedom, by their employer Living Dragon . “Means you’re going to have to wait another four or five hours there.” “There’s plenty to do. I still have the Suzaku VTOLS to get ready. I’m training a new pilot.” “You are?” “‘Tiger’ wants one of his Alpha company mates handling them.” “I warned you. How’s Fuqua?” “He’s fine. The 5th Jump Infantry Detachment that have been chopped to DCRR MITCC are the same ones who were at Ampheres, so he’s having a good time.” “Oh?” If she didn’t know Fuqua was married, she would say he had a serious crush on Lieutenant Shamar, aka ‘Ghost’. But this wasn’t the place for gossip mongering on a fellow Razan’s Ronins even if he was a member of the DEST Shadow Platoon. “All right,” said ‘Bullet’ when she didn’t answer. “We’ll contact you when we’re ready. Take care. Over and out” “Roger.” Word Count 1436 Chu-i Dulce Casarez 'Bullet' Oo-Suzumebachi-Class DropShip Pilot Living Dragon Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #89 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #89] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV DC-RD-06-02 #89 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Unknown Training Base Teppô 27th May 3093 22:00pm Local Fatigue hounded Sakamoto’s every step as he climbed down the ladder of the Teppô. He’d had terrible dreams when he tried to sleep, dreams that kept him awake. Jabir Al-Kaabi as a babe sucking at his mother’s breast; Jabir Al-Kaabi following him down a street as a young man on Tikonov; Jabir Al-Kaabi with him on Zurich. The dreams all ended the same way . . . his son faded into a milky oblivion, and Sakamoto lay wide awake for the rest of the night, sweating profusely. To sleep once and for all, to lie in oblivion . . . that would be his paradise. To join his son, his cousin Sheikh, countless others . . . that would be reward beyond all measure. “General!” shouted the Slavic commander who had brought the Teppô to the base. He told Sakamoto in Armenian that he was honored to be a soldier of the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army. “As are we all,” said Sakamoto. The commander began showing Sakamoto around the Teppô. The Teppô’s principle fire support weaponry includes a Ikazuchi Type 2 Sniper Artillery Piece mounted in vehicle's turret and pair of Shigunga Arrow IV Artillery Systems found mounted in front of vehicle. The Vehicle's Sniper piece was given 3 tons ammunition, while the Arrow IV launchers been given 6 to allow for wide selection of artillery rounds. As part of its defensive capacities, include pair anti-infantry Light Machine Guns, one mounted its front and rear facings. The vehicle sports three Anti-Missile Systems, which position in the front and the side of the Teppô. Its armored hide is protected with 20 tons of New Samarkand Royal Heavy Ferro-Fibrous armor and CASE. Among the Teppô's other features included; 1 ton worth of Communication Equipment, an Guardian ECM Suite, and a 4 ton Infantry Compartment for security detachment. The vehicle featured a 280 rated Fuel Cell engine, which allows it, while towing, to move 21 kilometers hour while towing.The Teppô's two 75 ton Advanced tech wheeled trailers included; the Tenmaku or Mobile Headquarters Trailer and its Bokkusu or Cargo & Repair Facility. The Tenmaku is Teppô's Command Trailer featuring its own small fusion reactor as its own independent power source. The Tenmaku's equipment features includes; 10 tons worth of Communication Equipment, a pair of C3 Master Computers, a Guardian ECM suite, 5 tons worth of Mission Specific Equipment, 10 ton Infantry Compartment capacity, and single Trailer Hitch mounted in front. The vehicle was armed with a pair of Medium Lasers and a pair Light Machine Guns in its turret. Additionally, it had three Anti-Missile Systems found in turrets on each of two sides. The trailer was protected by 15 tons of heavy ferro fibrous armor with CASE protection for its ammunition bins. The Bokkusu trailer serves as both a mobile repair base and cargo hauler for its Teppô users. It is unpowered and it was protected by 12 tons of heavy ferro fibrous armor and CASE. The Vehicle’s main feature was its Mobile Field Base, that is a self-contained repair gantry allowing comprehensive repair capacity for a regiment's BattleMechs and Vehicles. The Bokkusu's 18-ton cargo capacity allows for additional spare parts and other general repair supplies to be moved place to place. The Trailer's only defenses were four anti-missile systems, which was placed on each of vehicle's four sides. Other features that the Bokkusu included were a 4 ton Infantry Compartment, front mounted Lift hoist and a pair of Trail Hitches to allow for additional trailers to be pulled. The Teppo wheeled artillery vehicle was built on a super-heavy chassis, massing fifty tons heavier than a Behemoth. The Teppo’s extremely slow mobility is only intended to allow it limited tactical movement, with strategic movement done through a DropShip or aircraft transport. The Teppo instead, focuses on maximum payload with brutal effectiveness. A Sniper artillery piece is mounted on a reinforced turret system, allowing it to quickly adjust to even the most fluid battle. The tube artillery is backed up by two Arrow IV missile systems, typically loaded with homing and FASCAM rounds. If assigned even a single supporting TAG unit, the Teppo can bring the firepower of an assault ’Mech to a battlefield kilometers away from its position. Taking lessons from the Ryuken’s fifty years of combined arms tactics, the Teppo was designed to survive all but the most determined assault. Twenty tons of heavy ferro-fibrous armor provides protection from repeated attacks from even the strongest BattleMech weapons. The Teppo does not waste mass on short-range offensive weapons, instead using heavy defensive measures and relying on supporting units or its own battle armor for defense. Anti-missile systems ring the vehicle, an ECM suite provides electronic protection, and CASE-protected ammo bins round out the vehicle’s defense and ensures the crew will survive to fight another day. The final feature of the Teppo is one that makes it possibly its most deadly: the towing system. The Teppo is able to tow large amounts of weight, and it can handle up to two specially-built, seventy-five ton trailers. The Bokkusu is a straight-forward cargo and repair platform, while the Tenmaku command trailer moves the Teppo from a battlefield threat to a tide-changing combat unit. The Tenmaku lacks its own propulsion system and relies on the Teppo to move. This weakness is its own strength, freeing up tonnage and interior space for an impressive array of equipment and capability. Defense consists of a turret with pulse lasers, machine guns, and an anti-missile system. The Tenmaku has the same thick armor, AMS, ECM and CASE that the Teppo uses. Further enhancing support defense, it expands the battle armor bay to hold two full squads. A small 10-rated fusion reactor provides power for all the Tenmaku’s equipment. The remaining tonnage is given over to command and control ability. A command center occupies the majority of the interior, with ten tons of dedicated communication equipment including a full satellite uplink system and a real-time communication integration with the holographic mapping system. Two C3 Master Computers allow the Tenmaku to coordinate a company of units, while from within the Tenmaku a commander can monitor every single combat unit on a planet and effectively lead a worldwide offensive. Sakamoto paused at the steering station of the Teppô. To the uninitiated, which included him, the control area was a jumble of boxes and controls, wheels, levers, and dials seemingly arranged in an incoherent jumble. But that was nothing compared to the jungle of wheels nearby that controlled the valves for the high pressure air and trim manifolds. These controls were necessary for stabilizing the Teppô, allowing it to become a stable platform for firing its Sniper Artillery piece. The blue and red valve handles looked like intertwined spider nests. “The small size of our crew gave us some difficulty on the trip,” said the Major. “If we could have two dozen more men to train . . . ” “How many men do you have?” “We made the trek with thirty-eight. It was very difficult at times. Ordinarily, seventy-eight men take the vehicle into battle. We can do with a few less, but . . . ” “If you made it all that way with only thirty-eight men, you will be able to do the same here. Besides, there is no time to train them. By this time tomorrow you will be under way. The mission will not require a relief crew, I assure you.” “We would value action,” said the Major finally. “You will have plenty. A Ground Tug is making its way up from the Baibars Province. It will be in the plains of Libya at dawn the day after tomorrow.” They moved to the chart table, where the Slavic Major brought out a chart of the Libyan area. The maps were not very good . . . surely another sign that his heart had guided the man here. “I will get you another set before we leave,” Sakamoto assured him. “But for now, these will do . . . we will drive to the northern tip of the Libya as swiftly as possible. It is several hundred miles.” He pointed to Siagyn a small town and roughly seventy miles west of the tip of Sargon. His dreams had given him a plan overnight . . . in compensation for the nightmare, perhaps. They would strike where the tug least expected it: at the end of the passage through the Libya. The other vehicles would lure the convoy to an attack, allowing the Teppô to fire its artillery rounds. His Moltke Main Battle Tanks would launch their missiles at the same time and TAG’ed the civilian convoy allowing his Arrow IV missiles to lock on . . . the Galaport would be overwhelmed. “I have spies all along both provinces, and among the traffic in the Libya,” Sakamoto told the Teppô’s Major. “They will give us his location without trouble. We will then make an attack.” He described the three-tiered attack he had mapped out in general terms, giving the Teppô commander enough information so he would know his duty, but not enough to scuttle the missions of the other vehicles, if he was captured. His Main Gauche Light Support Tank, fueled and disguised as a benign piles of junk ready for the salvagers’ blowtorches, would put out to the road at dusk on their slow trek eastward. The rest of the attack force would slip out a few hours afterward. The entire convoy would be gone within thirty-six hours. “It is mostly a matter of timing,” added Sakamoto. “Once things begin, it follows the clock. There will be no need for communications. And no possibility of it. But we will succeed.” “The Apostle willing,” said the Major. “I have no doubt that he is willing.” “Nor do I.” The Major looked at the chart. “We will be driving more than five hundred miles.” “It will be somewhat more,” said Sakamoto. “We will have to drive throughout the night to accomplish this. It is a risk we must take now,” said the Major. Sakamoto folded his arms, studying the Major’s face. His assessments were correct, and he seemed aggressive. His passage here, however, had demonstrated caution in the extreme. Which was the true man? The answer could be seen in the gaze at a chart or the knitting of a brow. Sakamoto would have to trust that the man who spoke of the Apostle’s will was the truer . . . or that Bravery would take a hand when necessary. “There is a Mercenary force on world. They are a serious concern, far more than the Davion’s,” said Sakamoto. He showed the Teppô Major where the Draconis Combine Razan's Ronins Modern Innovated Tactics Skondia or DCRR MITCC normally patrolled. “They cannot go into the civilian areas,” said Sakamoto. “As long as you stay close to the cities, they cannot attack you. They may follow, though. We will use that to our advantage if it happens.” Sakamoto outlined his plan. Tomorrow afternoon a pair of patrol Stygian Strike hovertanks would head a few miles to the east and then cut directly south across the Libya toward Kitbuqa. The Teppô would leave at dusk, followed by two other patrol Stygian Strike hovertanks that would shadow him. A few hours later a second group of patrol Tokugawa Heavy Tanks would go across Sargon, with the Moltkes following roughly the same route the Teppô did. Sakamoto would follow in the Super Heavy Combat Vehicle’s path. Most likely the Mercenaries would attack the first group of patrol hovercraft as they headed toward Kitbuqa or soon afterward. If this happened, the Teppô would have a clear route. The next possibility was that those hovercraft and the Teppô would be missed; the second wave of patrol craft would draw the Mercenary’s attention. The third possibility was that the Mercenaries would detect the Teppô and follow it. “Their sensors are not very good at night,” boasted the Teppô Major. “I have driven right past Mercenary patrols during this War many times.” “This is not the 5th Succession War, and you have not dealt with these Mercenaries and their commanders before,” said Sakamoto. “Do not be overconfident. Razan’s Ronins are a unit like no other you have ever seen. Last month they located and infiltrated our hidden base and captured everyone. Not a single man or woman escaped.” “We will do better if we come up against them.” “No. You must stay near the cities. Keep in the shadow of the Mountains. Do not give them a reason to come for you.” “If they attack me?” “If they attack you and you have no other choice, then you may engage. But your first mission is to get away.” Sakamoto looked down at the chart. “I will get them if they interfere. I will find a way.” “Let me show you the rest of the Artillery Vehicle,” said the Slav. They went through the forward spaces. Some of the equipment had been updated; even the older gear was clean and freshly painted, a sign of discipline that pleased Sakamoto, for to him it meant not simply that the Major paid attention to details, but that the crew paid attention to the Major. This was another of the lessons he saw from SAFE, in going from vehicle to vehicle in their fleet . . . one could measure the crew by the Major, and vice versa. The tour continued to the forward artillery room, where the large tube openings protruded from the wall like the stubby teats of a goat. There were twelve artillery rounds, six to a side. “Only twelve rounds?” asked Sakamoto. “I was told you would supply more,” said the Major. “I do not have Sniper rounds. Nor anything large enough for these tubes.” The Teppô used a standard Sniper round. The artillery rounds that Sakamoto had were Thumper rounds . . . a very versatile weapon, as its adaptation to his hovercraft and tactics had shown, but it was a much smaller and lighter artillery round. “Perhaps we can modify the tubes,” suggested the Major. “The Kuritans have done so.” He is optimistic by nature, thought Sakamoto. That would be useful in battle. “There isn’t time for that,” said Sakamoto. “Twelve will have to suffice.” ....................... Word Count 2456 General Sathen Sakamoto Free Skondia Mutineers TN Like This Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino Posted Image #90 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #90] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #90 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Airspace Indomitable Bridge 27th May 3093 23:00pm Local “There’s a salvage lot for abandoned vehicles at the western end of the little inlet there,” said Major Dulce ‘Bullet’ Casarez, talking to the crew of Oo-Suzumebachi-Class DropShip, Indomitable as he prepared to hand off the patrol to the other crew. “The Teppô is across the arm of the dunes, in this area here. It looks like a manmade cave, with just enough clearance for a large vessel to get in. According to what we’ve been able to dig up on back on Dieron, the Kurtians found it in 3040 or 3041 and began modifying it for use as a vehicle garage. Eventually it was abandoned. The Teppô is there along with two Stygian Strike hovercrafts. The drone is right here, about a hundred feet from the mouth of the cave. At least one Stygian Strike Tank is sitting with these civilian hovercrafts in this area, and one of the parked vehicles isn’t a wreck. We’ll have fresh satellite intelligence in a few hours, but from old snaps, we think the headquarters area is over here, below the cliffs.” ‘Bullet’ added that there was a legitimate yard nearer to Kartinn, a few miles away; at least one patrol craft was hiding there as well. “More than likely there are vehicles and patrol craft hidden in different spots all along the road,” he added. “But I don’t want to send a VTOL over, on the chance it’ll tip them off. We’ll wait until we’re ready to deal with whatever is going on. Your job tonight is to stay far enough away that they can’t see you, but close enough so you can react if something happens. No overflights, no combat if at all possible.” ‘Bullet’ continued, passing along the frequencies that were being used by the Razan’s Ronin’s Daimyo and the other vehicles in the DCRR MITCC, emergency landing fields, and the other necessary minutiae of a successful mission. . . . Lieutenant Barry ‘Borrow’ Normore swept the Cavalry VTOL toward the coast as ‘Bullet’ finished up his brief with the crew of the Indomitable. The Cavalry pilot aboard the second VTOL, Lieutenant Fritz 'Berlin' Schmoll, had seen action as an Army helicopter pilot in FedComm Civil War and the 5th Succession War, left the regular Army, somehow managed to get into the AeroSpace Reserve, hopscotched into an ROTC program, and emerged as a Lucifer pilot. Clearly a finagler, ‘Berlin’s real claim to fame was lead guitarist in a pickup band known as the Dream Makers. He was a decent Cavalry pilot, though this was his first mission in a combat zone. ‘Borrow’ slid down to fifteen hundred feet, gliding along the coastline. While they were giving the Teppô base a wide swath and avoiding any chance of tipping the Insurgents off, ‘Bullet’ had decided there was nothing wrong with running the Active Probe in surveying the coastline well to the east as they went off duty. Starting about fifty miles from the cave where the Teppô was allegedly hidden, the Cavalry would survey the coastline to the Ocean with its infrared video camera. Even if they didn’t spot anything, the survey would form a baseline for future operations; the computer would review the recorded images and flag what had changed. ‘Borrow’ settled onto a path about a quarter of a mile north of the coast. During the twenty seventh century, Skondia was a flash-point for Christian and Buddha cultures. Buddhism dominated the cities and areas on the coast where ‘Borrow’ flew, and Christians dominated the interior. The severe terrain kept relations between the two religions manageable, isolating the communities and weakening the appetite for conquest. Still, there had been many fights over the centuries; domination by one group or the other had not halted the flow of blood, nor, to be fair, did the sharing of a common religion prevent murder or depredation. Skondia had been divided in two during the thirtieth century, with the Davions dominating the northern coast and Kuritans the eastern, including the tip of the Horn of Ventrale. In the early days of the FedComm Civil War, Kurita had seized Davion Musasalah; in 3079 the Davions took it and the rest back. The planets’s history after the war was partly cruel and partly confused, with the Star League Security Council placing Kurita in charge of the southern portion and Davions retaining the north, against the wishes of both the people and House Davion. Unification, revolution, alliance with the Kuritan Dictatorship, chaos, hunger, and disaster had been the lot of the people ever since. The Star League’s effort to fight starvation in the early 3083s had ended in disaster for Draconis Combine when an Army unit tried to arrest followers of a warlord; the bungled politics surrounding the affair was one of many issues that had helped the Planetary President win an election. But the incident also convinced the Star League to pull out, making the ordinary Skondia indigenous population, victims once more. That’s always the way it is, thought ‘Borrow’. The little guy takes it in the ear. His father used to say that all the time. That’s why you don’t want to be a little guy. ‘Borrow’ hoped that wasn’t the real lesson to be drawn, though sometimes it was hard to argue against. The Cavalry chugged along, not caring a whit for history or inPlague. A large vessel sat in the lot off the left wing. The infrared image seemed a little off as ‘Borrow’ passed. It took him a moment to realize that the vehicle’s image had been fairly uniform; there were no hot spots, which you’d expect if the engines were running. “Indomitable, this is Swarm leader,” said ‘Borrow’. “Looks like I found that converted oiler we saw the other night. It’s dead in the water. I’m going to take a close-up look at it.” “Roger that, Swarm leader. Something up?” “Not sure.” The vehicle seemed dead cold, the only heat the lingering warmth of the sun. And it was sitting on all eighteen of its wheels. “Maybe we didn’t save it after all,” said ‘Borrow’ after a second pass. “Maybe they had already taken it, got the fuel off, then brought it here. I think we ought to have somebody check it out.” “Agreed,” said ‘Bullet’. “I’ll dial it into ‘Tiger’. Stand by.” ............................... Word Count 1113 Major Dulce Casarez 'Bullet' Oo-Suzumebachi-Class DropShip Pilot Living Dragon Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #91 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #91] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #91 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside of Platinum City Razan’s Ronins Camp Daimyo Mobile HQ 27th May 3093 23:00pm Local Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka stared at the hologram, which showed the likely location of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent camp near a village on the coast and just below a sharp cliff. A sequence of satellite photos had been used to form the basic layout, focusing on three old buildings across from a salvage yard where there had been occasional activity over the past several weeks. The old trucks in the yard gave the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents good hiding places and made it difficult to flush them out if they managed to take positions there. While none were visible from the photos, the DCRR MITCC would begin the engagement by pummeling the old hulks and neutralizing the possibility. The MITCC would wait for the Teppô to come out of the cave; the below sea level terrain as well as a breakwater and two old wrecks near the entrance prevented an easy missile shot. The ground team would prevent escape by land and secure whatever the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents had onshore. The old village had been largely abandoned and could be isolated by capturing a small bridge at the southern end accessible from the water; with that out of the way, the main force could concentrate on the buildings directly across from the salvage yard. The 5th Jump Infantry Minutemen Detachment and Kintaro Tanaka’s DEST Section would land at the top of the cliff and rappel down from two different points to press home the attack. The troops could be deposited as the Suzakus blazed in from the oceanside. Between the high-pitched whine of the VTOL helos’ rotors and the MITCC’s exploding shells, the Trireme’s approach would be difficult to hear. “They most likely have at least a token watch in this area up here,” said Tanaka, pointing to a ridge just behind the point of the cliff. “We have to find out before we attack. We can send a Cavalry over shortly before the attack and look at the infrared camera. That’ll show us where everything is. We can have it orbit during the operation, showing us what’s going on.” “We need at least a token force to come in off the shore to the west,” said Lieutenant Lexi ‘Ghost’ Shamer. “Otherwise they can just filter down here and get away. And just for good measure, we should put people on this side of the village to the east as well. We’re looking at three heavily armed teams, lots of firepower, support from those VTOLs. If there are two hundred Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents in there . . . ” “I doubt there are two hundred,” said Tanaka. “Not even a hundred.” “We still need more people,” said the 5th Jump Infantry lieutenant. Tanaka found himself admiring her professional skepticism. Too often junior officers simply parroted what their superiors drew up. And she was good-looking when she was skeptical. “We can always use more people,” said Tanaka. “But the technology will let us leverage what we have.” “I’ll take two boots on the ground over a silicon chip any day,” said ‘Ghost’. “We can use the KAGE DEST Squad onshore,” said Major Jeffrey 'Tiger' Kochel. “In a pinch we can make a ground party from some of the people on Logistics Lance’s Sabaku Kaze Heavy Scout Tank . They should be able to handle the western escape route. The Sabaku Kaze can be operated with a minimal crew and still provide fire support.” They worked the changes into the computer driving the holographic display. The elements snapped in: a sixteen men down each side of the cliff the DEST Heavy Jump Platoon and SAS Skondia SWAT Special Forces unit, with the Minutemen’s Charlie platoon at the top of the cliff to keep them secure; two fire teams, the Raiden Tsunami and the Kanazuchi Battle Armor Squads on the ground below, a Cavalry for reconnaissance, the Suzakus for pinpoint fire support, the Hiryo and Alpha and Bravo Jump Infantry Platoons to provide support, the Sabaku Kaze and Goblin to cut off any retreat, the Fulcrum Hover Tankss and Skondia Militia GIA Axel Heavy Tanks tanks to methodically wipe out the wrecks and any other defenses that turned up. It looked like it would work. But it was a complicated plan, and Tanaka would have much preferred to rehearse it a few dozen times before the main event, especially given the fact that his men and the 5th Jump Infantry’s had never worked together before. “What are you thinking, Chu-i?” asked ‘Ghost’. “I’m thinking I’d like a chance to work with you guys before we do this, just to make sure we’re all on the same page,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind that,” answered ‘Ghost’. “But I don’t think we can tell the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents to hold in place for six months.” “I’ll settle for three days.” Tanaka turned to Kam Ogunleye, who was standing at the side of the vehicle, working on one of the computing units. “The Suzakus will be operational in time, right, Kam?” “Oh, yeah,” she told him, in a voice that clearly indicated she was not happy. “I have some tests to run, and then we’ll finish training their pilot.” “We’re not flying them ourself?” “Chu-i, if you want to discuss tasking, I’ll be available following our planning session,” said ‘Tiger’. “Major Kochel, there’s an urgent communication from the Living Dragon DropShip Indomitable for you, sir,” a tanker said. They turned toward one of the screens at the front of the vehicle, where Major Dulce ‘Bullet’ Casarez’s helmeted head appeared. “‘Tiger’, this is Casarez. We have a vehicle dead in the water that looks as if it’s been abandoned. It’s the oiler we spotted the night of the battle. We think you should send somebody to check it out.” Tanaka watched ‘Tiger’ scowl. The vehicle commander went to the holographic display without saying anything. “Hey, Major,” said Tanaka. “Tanaka.” “Where exactly is it?” snapped ‘Tiger’. Kam glanced at the hologram, then tapped something on her laptop. A black box appeared near the coast about fifty miles south of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents’ camp; it blinked yellow for a few seconds, then turned red. It was about a hundred miles east of them, in enemy held territory. “That’s it,” she said. “I’ll send the Sabaku Kaze,” said ‘Tiger’. “OK, Casarez. Good work.” “Kam, we’re ready for that diagnostic series,” said ‘Bullet’ without acknowledging ‘Tiger’s comments. “Coming up,” she said, pulling a seat over. “But the fact that I was able to add that information to the display means we’re going to come through with a hundred percent. The DropShip’s sensor data is now available on the ground vehicles’ network.” “Let’s run the tests anyway.” “Ready whenever you are.” “I have an idea,” Tanaka told ‘Tiger’. “What if Lieutenant Shamer and I take some of the 5th Jump Infantrys and our DEST unit out in the Trireme and run an operation to board the vehicle? It’s not exactly a dress rehearsal, but we’ll be able to work together for a little, see if we’re going to have any major problems. It would at least let us get our feet wet together before the main event.” “I like that idea,” said ‘Ghost’. “So do I,” said ‘Tiger’. “Good idea, Chu-i.” “What do you think, Major?” asked Tanaka, turning to the screen. “Sounds good to me, but it’s not my show.” “That’s right,” said ‘Tiger’. “I call the shots.” ‘Bullet’ cleared his throat. “And the Indomitable is the aircraft that will be on patrol. You’ll have to alert them. I’m turning you over to the copilot, Kam; I’ve got some things to take care of here.” . . . . Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside of Platinum City Mission Area 28th May 3093 04:00am Local Kashira Felix 'Animal' Ndang the CO of the DEST units third squad, the Raiden Tsunami Squad steadied himself at the side of the ramp at the rear of the Special Forces-modified Trireme VTOL, waiting for the go-ahead. “Figure the ground’s going to be warm?” he asked. “As warm as a desert in July,” answered Jack. “That’s what I was afraid of,” said Ndang. A tone sounded in their headsets. The jumpmaster took a step forward and pushed out the heavy ordinance package. Ndang and the 5th Jump Minutemen Infantry Trooper who was going out with him followed, stepping off onto the ground. The Trireme lifted upward as the rear panel began to close. Kintaro went back and joined the team waiting to rappel to the roof of the building. As he reached the door where the rappelling lines had been prepared, Kintaro saw a Suzaku whip toward the side of the building. The two gunships were providing cover as the team descended to the open roof a few yards from the front. “Minutemen Troopers . . . let’s make your mothers proud,” said their CO Lieutenant Lexi ‘Ghost’ Shamer. Make your mothers proud? Women certainly brought a different perspective to operations, thought Kintaro as he waited for his turn to rappel down to the roof. It came quickly. They weren’t as high over the building as he thought, and he hit the roof about a half second early, stumbling but then catching his balance after he rolled ever so slightly to his right, and Kintaro trotted after the others who were racing toward the building’s interior. The 5th Jump Minutemen Infantry Troopers had commsets, but couldn’t tie into the Razan’s Ronin discrete-burst system. Kintaro and Ndang got around this by using Minutemen headsets to talk with the 5th Jump Troopers and relay messages through their Razan’s Ronin system back to the Trireme and the Daimyo Mobile HQ of the DCRR MITCC. The hovers could monitor everything that was going on through the video and infrared cameras in the Trireme via its advanced Fire Control and Communication Equipment. Kintaro could even give ‘Tiger’ a ground-level view by activating the switch at the bottom of his DEST Armor’s helmet. Make that a bird’s eye view. ‘Ghost’ had told Kintaro that the 5th Jump Minutemen Infantry Troopers had practiced infiltrating buildings “once or twice,” but it looked to him like they did it every day. They had already swarmed the roof area and were now taking over the building’s interior, a rectangular collection of spaces that were four stories over the main floor. The men said very little, using grunts more than words. The earpiece Kintaro had been given was impossible to wear comfortably beneath his armor’s helmet, and he finally had to take it off, wedging it at the back in a position that was only marginally better. He couldn’t hear much of what was being said. A pair of muffled explosions announced that the team tasked to take over the basement had just done their thing, crashing in with the aid of a small amount of explosives and flash-bangs. Kintaro turned around to make sure the rest of the team had gotten in safely, then ran down the stairwell of the building, leaning against the rail, his M61A Laser Rifle at the ready, its crosshair a dot slaved to his visor. Something blared in his headset. He pulled the Minutemen’s unit out, and after fiddling with it a few minutes, realized it had malfunctioned. He pulled his DEST helmet back on and stood tensely near the rail as the rest of the team went about its business. Finally, an Infantry men from the Minutemen 5th Jump Platoon came nearby and Kintaro gestured for him to stay close so he could communicate with the rest of the team. He pushed the helmet back on his head, an awkward compromise. “‘Ghost’ has a communication for you, sir,” said the 5th Jump Trooper, holding out his headset. “Basement is secure,” said ‘Ghost’. “No one here. No wonder they didn’t answer the radio . . . it’s gone. Blood all over the place,” she added before he could acknowledge. “Remember the booby-traps,” Kintaro reminded the others. “Go slow, go slow.” The first rushes of adrenaline fading, the entry party moved through the building methodically. “Looks pretty boring up there,” said Ndang on the Razan’s Ronin circuit. “Not as boring as down there,” Kintaro replied, pulling the helmet down. “I figure I want it boring. Say, they ought to see if can get a more powerful motor,” added Ndang. “This little putt-putt barely goes two knots.” “You thinking of doing some snow mobiling?” “I had a mind to it, Chu-i. Maybe I’ll lasso one of the Suzakus and let it pull me around.” Kintaro moved around to the upper floors, looking at the darkened skyline in the distance. They’d be out there tomorrow. He worked to focus on the job at hand, walking with his new communications aide toward the basement of the building. Two young 5th Jump Minutemen Infantry Troopers had taken posts there. They were both very young . . . nineteen, if that . . . kids trying to act nonchalant on what was probably the closest they’d come to real action in their brief military careers. He nodded to them, saw their tight smiles. He began seeking out the rest of the team, intending to make personal contact with as many as possible. It wasn’t important tonight, but it would seem like a luxury tomorrow. He wanted the people working with him to know who he was, to remember they could count on him . . . and to do what he needed them to do when people were shooting at them. Kintaro worked his way all the way around the building and back up to the roof before ‘Ghost’ called in from below. “We found some of the occupants,” she told him. “Down in the storage space. They’re all dead, ‘Iceman’. Blood everywhere. Been dead a while. Smells like hell down here.” “All right. Take some pictures, see if you can find the log, take pictures of its entries, then let’s saddle up. Nothing more for us to do here.” Word Count 2386 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #92 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #92] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #92 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside Platinum City Razan’s Ronins Camp Daimyo Mobile HQ 28th May 3093 13:24pm Local “We will open Operation Immediate Freedom at 2350 hundred hours with the Cavalry overflight of the base area,” said Major Rokuhara Maaka. He gestured to the hologram, where a simulation of the operation had begun to play. “We analyze the video feeds, then get a go/no go on the operation. Assuming a green light, the Hiryo moves forward at oh 10 hundred hours and puts the LRM 5th Jump Infantry Platoon into the Goblin medium tank. The party splits up, one watching the small bridge to the village and the other moving farther east along the mountains as a backstop to prevent anyone from escaping. Bombardment begins from the Dragon Scale Lance and Skondia Militia GIA tank company crews. The Suzakus appear at oh15 hundred hours. The Cavalry VTOL approaches from the south. Suzakus attack. Second assault team, the Kanazuchi Battle Armor, comes off the Hiryo WiGE Transport. The Sabaku Kaze Heavy Scout Tank moves offshore and monitors the situation. The Trireme VTOL disgorges the combined teams of SRM and Laser platoons of the Skondia Militia GIA Jump Infantry detachment and the Razan’s Ronins DEST troopers.” Tai-sa Onishi ‘Rought Ryder’ Razan watched as her counterpart, Major Rokuhara Maaka continued the briefing. Maaka relished the spotlight; there was no doubt about that. He was the kind of guy who should be a politician. I’m not going to run for a political appointment, Onishi realized. It doesn’t fit with who I am. And that means it’s not my duty, no matter what other people say. Onishi glanced across the room at ‘Ghost’, noticing her intent gaze as Maaka moved to the exfiltration. I’m not sure exactly who I am, but I’m not a politician. “The Sabaku Kaze stays in this area to the east, watching for additional egress from the sea and mopping up anything that manages to get by Dragon Scale and the Skondia Militia GIA Tanks,” continued Maaka. “Are we all on board?” One by one the different commanders checked in. Major Dulce ‘Bullet’ Casarez, who was participating by video back aboard the Living Dragon Oo-Suzumebachi-classed DropShip, the Iwo Jima, grunted. The DropShip Major seemed more tired than Onishi remembered seeing him, worn down by the long missions. That’ll be me in what, ten years? Unlikely. Oh, she might make Sho-sa . . . given her record, she ought to do so easily. But then what? The general idea would be to stick around and make full bird Tai-sa, then go for Tai-sho. But that wasn’t as easy as it seemed. There was a real numbers squeeze on, and there were going to be less and less slots available at the higher ranks of the DCMS, especially after the Kitakyusho administration, which was generally considered pro-military. Even now, getting the star on your shoulder could be tricky for someone who wasn’t a ‘Mech pilot. It wasn’t a written thing, and there were plenty of exceptions . . . plenty . . . but if you wanted to go to the top in the Mercenary Business, it helped a lot to be a BattleMech Pilot. ‘Bullet’ would argue that. Onishi knew plenty of guys who would argue that. And hell, her record could make her a Tai-sho right now, assuming she kept her nose clean and more or less played by the rules. But did she want to be a Tai-sho? Talk about being a politician. So what would she do? “Tai-sa?” said Maaka, looking at her. “I think it’s going to work,” said Onishi. . . . From the point of view of the Razan’s Ronins flight crews, the mission was straightforward. They’d get to the area around 2300 hours. Lieutenant Barry ‘Borrow’ Normore, flight leader of Swarm Flight, their reconnaissance flight, will launch from aboard the Indomitable, the Living Dragon primary Oo-Suzumebachi-class DropShip, would handle the Cavalry flyover of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent area and cover the landing. One of the two Cavalrys would be “parked” above the battlefield, providing real-time visuals for the ground team commander, Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka. The other VTOL Flight, Stealthy Dragon Flight, the two Suzakus, led by Sho-ka Gerard Bahnken would provide fire support. The Iwo Jima would patrol farther north, watching for the Free Skondia Mutineers company that might launch an attack from the Jalut side of the area. Each DropShip would have a Bullet Drone operator aboard: Gunjin Himanshu Shah in Iwo Jima and Ensign English in Indomitable. The DropShip closest to the probe would control it; at the start of the mission that would be English. Once the Teppô was either neutralized or destroyed, the probe could be recovered, either by Kintaro Tanaka and the Razan’s Ronins DEST team or the Sabaku Kaze Heavy Scout Tank. The DropShip missile bays would carry Improved Swarm long range missiles exclusively. Free Skondia Mutineers Airpower had been quiet since losing their aerospace fighters, and between the Cavalrys and their aerospace fighter flight headed up by Sho-i Nashiro ‘Nemesis’ Torii, they would have plenty of air cover. “I’d put Listen-Kill short range missiles in as well,” said Lee a radar operator on the Daimyo Mobile HQ who was confined to a wheelchair for an injury he had sustained during the line-of-duty, interrupting Gerard as he discussed the capabilities of the other air forces in the region. The Daimyo Mobile HQ was a mobile, heavy theater command unit produced by Buda Imperial Vehicles since 2796. Gathering information equals gathering ammunition on a modern battlefield, and while throughout most of the Succession Wars scouting duties were performed by 'Mechs (such as the Locust or the Stinger), fast vehicles or satellite-systems, the Daimyo provides an alternative that is less susceptible to enemy counter-operations. The vehicle's sensor suite includs infrared, seismic, sound, motion, radio, radar and hyperpulse to detect any unit within 60 kilometers. The Sipher Battlesys 5.2 Communications with MultiTrack Coordination system is one of the best available allowing the Daimyo to detect an enemy on any part of the planet while remaining undetected itself. This sophisticated system is able to transmit and monitor over 500 channels simultaneously, and allows each Daimyo to control its fleet of drones. The drones act in coordination with each other and their mother vehicle to create a "sensor chain", increasing the vehicle's detection range by over one hundred percent. The only downside to the system is that unusually-high amounts of background radiation can interfere with the MultiTrack system. The Daimyo serves as a ground-based early-warning network for less important planets and, if it came to an invasion, as a communications and reconnaissance asset for the planetary defenders. Slow and lightly armored, the Daimyo was not build for direct combat, instead proving to be one of the most specialized, and effective, command vehicles in existence before the recovery of the Helm Memory Core or the Clan Invasion and the subsequent development of newer C3 Network technology. Its tracking and communication systems were superior to anything other than a specialized command 'Mech or dedicated C3-complex at its time. The Daimyo weighs twice as much as a standard Mobile HQ, using the additional tonnage to increase its defensive armament and add 7 tons of armor. Its Large laser gives it a serious punch at long range, while the Machine Gun defends it from infantry. Most Daimyo variants have a four ton Infantry Compartment as well, but whether this is to provide accommodations for a security team or headquarters staff is not clear. A unique feature of the Daimyo is the expandable sides, which create a large room inside the unit with a holotank displaying a real-time overview of the battlefield for the commander and a few additional officers. The vehicle can travel with its sides expanded, although this renders it unable to achieve its full speed. It also carries seven tons of Communications Equipment. “Yeah.” Gerard rolled his eyes. Everyone involved in the mission . . . and a lot of people who weren’t . . . had gathered for the brief, so they’d had to hold it in the holotank compartment in the belly of the Daimyo. “As I was saying, Jalut has been putting its conventional fighters on alert and turning its radar systems on and off, but they don’t seem like they’re interested in doing more than that. Did I mention that the Suzakus aboard Iwo Jima will be piloted by myself and Kashira Darwin Balubayan?” “I wouldn’t take Jalut too lightly,” said Lee. Gerard ignored him. “VTOL One and Two are mine. Lieutenant Barry Normore, flying from the Iwo Jima the number Two Oo-Suzumebachi, will have VTOL Three and VTOL Four.” “The Bluehawks are pretty capable at fifty tons,” said Lee. “Jalut does have Bluehawks,” said Gerard. “The radar operators will be on the alert for that . . . as they have every mission.” “Pays to be alert,” said Lee. “And we will watch them carefully,” said Gerard. “Because of the length of the mission, we’ve arranged for an in-air-refuel sortie. We’ll run the usual routine. We’ll tank, gas up, head out. Tanker will come up for a second top-off after the mission concludes, or obviously if we need it earlier. Foxtrot 760 . . . ” “When are we going to refer to the real names for the DropShips?” said Lee. “Foxtrot 760 sounds like a racehorse or something.” “We’ll use real names when you start walking again,” snapped Gerard. There was a hush aboard the Daimyo HQ, and Gerard realized he’d gone too far. But he was damned if he was going to apologize. Lee was quiet for the rest of the brief. “All right,” said ‘Bullet’ when they were done. “Let’s clear the Inner Sphere of these scum.” “I can handle the Suzakus, no sweat,” said Darwin, coming over to Gerard as the meeting broke up. “Do it like it’s a simulation,” Gerard told him, gathering his papers. “No, it’s a little different,” said the Kashira. “It’s like . . . it’s different. A simulation, I mean it looks the same, but it’s not. You can’t really feel it.” “Don’t get philosophical on me,” said Gerard, though he thought he knew what Darwin meant. There was a difference, as hard as it was to put into words. “Just fly.” “I will.” “When are you going to give it up?” said Lee behind him. Gerard ignored him, snapping his bag closed. He walked away Word Count 1776 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #93 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #93] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV DC-RD-06-02 #93 Draconis Combine Ashio System Ashio IV Southern District Nagoya Family Compound 28th May 3093 11:30pm Local The balcony of the compound held a commanding view of the valley floor, the expanse of which extended for several square kilometers and employed often by the Academy to train the next generation of young Mechwarriors for combat. A point exercised by the appearance of a pair of Marauders on the near range while a good deal further on, a 12 count of Locusts adorned in academy colors moved into position. “You’ve arrived on a most auspicious day...“ Ohashi noted aloud as he scanned the valley floor watching the ‘Mechs with a critical eye as the two forces took-up opposing positions. “As graduation gift to the Academy students, my family plays host to what the Academy alumnae have come to call the ‘Day-of-Blood’. A day where the most gifted students pit their skills against two of my house honor guard.” Ohashi lifted the specs to his eyes as he continued. “As it happens we are honored this year to have my grandson Nobu on leave from the Sun Zhang Academy in attendance this year.” A several moments more passed before Ohashi again offered a passing glance at the ISF officer. “Regarding the reason for your most unexpected visit, you’ll forgive me if I say that I find it odd that you simply didn’t use approved channels to contact my daughter directly rather than coming to me with this matter.” The aged warlord commented before again turning his gaze to the training field. “One could assume an air of conspiracy in your handling of the situation thus far ...“ The Intelligence officer bowed his head politely. “Tai-Sho Nagoya, I would never presume to imply that one of your most noble bloodline would ever ...“ “It begins ...“ The Tai-Sho motioned the ISF officer to silence as the command board flashed signaling that the melee had begun. The massive war machines lumbered forward across the valley floor towards one another with surprising speed. “The contest is a simple enough thing.” Ohashi offered aloud as the pair watched the pilots skillfully maneuver their machines across the field. “To claim the prize being offered the students have only one single objective. That objective is simply to take down one of the two enemy units to claim victory.” Pausing he watched as the first volleys were exchanged before continuing. “In counter to that the Marauder pilots in turn have but to defend and keep that from happening.” The ISF officer frowned weighing the odds. “I wouldn’t blame you if you thought this little contest was perhaps a tad one sided, and of course you’d be right but then victory is not the lesson to be learned here.” Ohashi paused briefly, watching the first of the Locusts go up in an impressive pyrotechnic display as a heavy laser tore through the machine’s hull, effectively cutting the ‘Mech in half. “The Locusts were proven machines for their day but individually no match for the larger and more powerful Marauder, this said both the numbers and skill play an important role if only in the minds of the students who must either find a way to work together or ...“ The sudden sound of thunder rolled across the field as another Locust charging into the enemy formation exploded just short of the lead Marauder. “You ask a great deal ...“ Ohashi stated plainly as he collected the cup from its tray and brought it to his lips, pausing only then briefly to enjoy the aroma. “While I have no doubt that my daughter would in fact carry out the order, I find myself concerned as to why you would elect to pass the Coordinator’s command through me rather than through proper the channels.” “If I may be allowed to speak freely?” The young officer offered. Ohashi nodded his approval watching as the battle continued to play out. “The Coordinator views the matter in question as being a private matter and too sensitive to be left to official channels thus why I was directed to come to you. The Coordinator continues to hold every faith in your loyalty and ability to act in the best interests of the Combine.” The aged Tai-Sho was moved by the statement of faith he offered no sign. “You see Sakamoto has a good number of so called friends who would stand to lose a great deal of influence if their involvement with Sakamoto were to become public record. The reality being that any order issued through official channels would be leaked to Sakamoto and his people. Thus why his location has been leaked to outside interests to ensure that the chance of retaliation by either Sakamoto or his supports could be minimized.“ “Assuming of course the parties the data was leaked to, didn’t have designs of their own.“ Ohashi injected. “Always a possibility, But that said the fact that your daughter serves with the very mercenary company that picked up the contract to capture and extract Sakamoto from Skondia has only strengthened the Coordinator’s conviction that now is the time to act.” Their attention drifted back to the battle playing out in the valley below for moment as the Academy students rallied and charged in mass across the field in an attempt to overwhelm the Marauder’s formation. Ohashi frowned his annoyance. “While I would never think to second guess the Coordinator’s will, I must admit I hold some concern regarding the use of my only daughter as a political tool to assassinate Sakamoto.” The intelligence officer smiled nodding his understanding as he pulled the file from his briefcase and offered it to the Tai-Sho. “A special blessing then that it is not Sakamoto that the Coordinator wants killed in this case, but rather another less noteworthy individual of whom the Coordinator Dragon a special disfavor. “ Word Count 1014 Like This Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #94 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #94] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #94 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside Platinum City Mission Staging Area 28th May 3093 23:00pm Local Chui-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka’s stomach fluttered as the Ronin’s Trireme dipped a few meters from the turret of the XO’s Command vehicle, the Narukami. Weighed down by the troops in her belly, the nose of the craft dipped forward and her tail pitched sharply left, an unexpected burst of wind trying to wrestle control of the craft from the pilot. The detritus snapped at the wheels of the aircraft, and the hull of the heavy assault tank loomed in the window. Kintaro saw ‘Ghost’s face across the cabin as the VTOL leaned hard to its right. The red hue of the interior lights softened her frown; he saw how beautiful she was under the Minutemen BDUs. If I die, this is the last thing I’m going to see, he thought. Beauty. The Trireme lurched backward, buffeted by another burst of wind. The tail pushed downward and the aircraft shot right. Kintaro grabbed for the strap near his head, pitching against one of the Minutemen Troopers. The transport chopper sank again, but it was a more subtle, controlled maneuver, a steadying; the Trireme seemed to hiccup in the air and then hopped forward, finally stable. “Whoa,” said one of the Jump Infantrymen next to him. Whoa is right, thought Kintaro. . . . Tai-sa Onishi ‘Rough Ryder’ Razan saw the Trireme dip dangerously close to the tarmac then jerk back upright, as if the aircraft had paused to take a swat a bug. Months and years of work hung in the air for a moment, stuttering there on the fragile metal wings of the aircraft. She folded her fingers into a fist and punched the air. “Go!” she yelled from the pilot compartment inside of the armored hull of the custom built, assault-class Naginata. “Go!” The aircraft stumbled again. This was a real weakness of the mission plan: They had to rely on a single aircraft to transport the assault team. That couldn’t be helped . . . there were only two Triremes available and the second was allotted for backup. Onishi’s stomach turned as the VTOL faltered. I’ve put too much into this to fail now, she thought. Go!. It moved sideways for a moment longer, then lurched forward, more in control. Onishi turned off her optical night vision and took one last long breath of the night air. If Operation Immediate Freedom succeeded . . . when Operation Immediate Freedom succeeded . . . the future of Combined Action Groups based around BattleMechs like her Naginata would be assured. As would her own career. And if the operation failed, so would she. There’d be no possibility of her making Tai-sho, no hope of advance beyond Tai-sa. She’d be relieved in a heartbeat, given some obscure job counting toilet seats in the Periphery. Everything she’d worked for was now on the line. On the hangar deck of the orbiting DropShip, the Suzakus were pulled forward on their skids, ready for launch. The aircraft were equipped with Improved Swarm missiles and extra ammo pods; they looked like the beasts of the Apocalypse, ready for blood. The crews made a few last second adjustments to the weapons loads, then moved back to the hangar area as the rotors began to spin. The loud whirl made an eerie sound in the night, more a growl than a buzz; the Suzakus picked up their tails and leapt into the air, more sure-footed than the heavily loaded Trireme had been. A half dozen of them flying with each MITCC Group would more than fulfill the need for airborne defenses. The first thing she would do when this was over was get with the Quartermaster and tell him the Suzakus had to be an Alpha Battalion program. As long as this mission went well, her XO, Chu-i Reece Kimura, would be easy to convince. As long as this mission went well. . . . “Good takeoff, Corporal,” said Major Jeffrey 'Tiger' Kochel, lauding the officer he’d assigned to oversee the launching of the VTOL aircraft. “Thank you, sir, but, uh, Chief Warrant Officer Miss Ogunleye handled the takeoff.” “Why? I directed you to. I don’t want her in the Tactical Warfare Center at all unless absolutely necessary. I don’t want any of the techies there while we’re in combat. They’re non-combatants.” “Yes, sir,” mumbled the Corporal. “Give me Technical Engineer Kam Ogunleye.” “Stand by, Major.” “I’ve been in combat more than anyone on your crew,” said Kam Ogunleye, coming on the line so quickly that ‘Tiger’ realized she must have been listening. Clearly there was something in the water at that damn Aerospace base on Dieron that made these people so disagreeable, thought ‘Tiger’. “I’m not going to argue with you, Warrant Officer Ogunleye.” “Go-cho Ogunleye.” “Go-cho, yes. I’m not going to argue. Combat spaces are off-limits during . . . ” “If something goes wrong, do you want it fixed right away, or do you want to waste ten or fifteen minutes finding me before it gets attended to?” And it didn’t help that they were always right. “Very well, Go-cho Ogunleye,” said ‘Tiger’. “Stay out of the way.” “With pleasure.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Bangalore Airspace Trireme VTOL 28th May 3093 23:40pm Local Kintaro saw the obliterated guard posts as the feed from the Living Dragon Cavalry Infantry VTOL played on the HUD screen of his DEST helmet. Several figures were coming from the caves near the tarmac; another dozen were moving from the village buildings just to the east. But the top of the cliff was unprotected and he zoomed in to it, focusing on landing zone one and then two. “MITCC, be advised we are inbound to LZ. Do not shell the cliff,” said the pilot over the Razan’s Ronins circuit. “Repeat. We’re inbound and will arrive in sixty seconds.” Someone on the Axel acknowledged. The missile bombardment of the wrecked trailers in the cave continued; the Ronins gunnery experts had predicted it would take a little more than twelve minutes to obliterate them all. As incredible as it seemed, the awesome torrent of missiles made it seem like they might do it even quicker. The Suzakus had been unable to catch up with the Trireme and the accelerated schedule; they were running behind him by about ten minutes. He’d make the landings without them. “Team One is up!” shouted Mohsan ‘Blow’ Farid, who was acting as jumpmaster, supervising the exit of the aircraft via the ropes. “Team One is up!” The 5th Company’s Minutemen Troopers and three of Kintaro’s men moved toward the door as the Trireme revved into hover mode, its tilt-wing swinging around as the craft arced to the disembarkation point. Kintaro’s men were used to the jolt of weightlessness that this induced, but the Minutemen Troopers weren’t, and even the men who had been with them on the mission the night before jerked against their straps and each other. “Go! Go! Hit the ropes, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” yelled Kashira Mya Vu. “Do it, men!” yelled ‘Ghost’. “Make your mamas proud!” Kintaro watched her grab a rope and go down with the rest of the team. They’d given up trying to use the Minutemen systems with the DEST helmets and Razan’s Ronins circuit; instead, Kintaro had given her a backup short-range radio-only headset so she could talk directly to him. His people had been split up to work with different knots of Minutemen Troopers. “Team Two coming up! Team Two coming up!” yelled Mya. Kintaro moved with the rest of them. The Trireme swung around to get into position. One of the missile launchers beneath the front of the aircraft began to rotate, spitting short ranged warheads at the lip of the crag. Kintaro thought they were probably shooting at ghosts, but there wasn’t time to question the gunners . . . he put his armored gloved hands onto the rope, pulled his feet into place, and fast-roped down. The Trireme stuttered backward as he descended, shuddering under the weight of missiles it was firing. But he got on the ground solidly, pushing to the left as the rest of the team came out. “Incoming!” yelled someone as Kintaro jumped from the aircraft. Something flashed thirty meters ahead; it was a shoulder-launched short range missile fired nearly at point-blank range, but fortunately without much of an aim. Running forward, Kintaro peppered the area where it had come from with a semi portable man pack PPC before sliding down to one knee. There was no answering fire. He swiveled his head back and forth as he took stock of the situation. More gunfire erupted to his right; three members of his team, all Minutemen Troopers, were engaged with someone at the very edge of the cliff. “Grenade!” someone yelled. It could have been a warning or a suggestion; in any event, nothing exploded. Two muzzles flashed from the direction of the cliff to Kintaro’s extreme left; more Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents coming up to the defense. The gunfire was answered by someone behind him. Men were still coming off the Trireme, easy targets. “Get the machine guns up!” yelled Kintaro. “Get the bastards on the cliff down! Go!” More Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent came up the cliff and began to fire, bullets blazing everywhere. Something exploded behind him; as he turned to look, he saw the right aft, outboard rotor assembly of the Trireme break apart, struck by a mortar shell that had the incredibly bad luck to land on the engine housing and detonate. The aircraft veered sideways, spun forward, then sailed toward the water. “Son of a bitch!” yelled Mya into her open mike. Kintaro threw one of his class-c anti-personnel ordinance grenades toward the cliff where he’d seen the muzzle flashes. Someone else had the same idea, and their grenade exploded first, followed quickly by Kintaro’s. Jumping to his feet, Kintaro ran forward, draining the infantry Blazer Rifle’s power pack before diving flat on the ground, next to a Minutemen. He cycled a fresh power pack into his weapon and fired a few rounds. There was no return fire, but just to be sure, he threw another anti-personnel ordinance grenades. “Come on, Marine, come on!” he yelled, jumping to his feet after it exploded. As Kintaro took a step, a fresh burst of automatic rifle fire stoked up from the right, pinging dangerously off of his thin DEST armor, and he threw himself back down. He didn’t fire back; he had people in that direction and in the scramble now couldn’t be positive who was where. He tried crawling forward but the ground began percolating with gunfire. “Let’s get that machine gun over here!” Kintaro yelled at the operative he’d just left. The man lay a few feet behind him, still hugging the ground. “Yo, Marine, come on,” said Kintaro pushing back toward him. He grabbed for the man’s shoulder; it came without resistance. It was only then that he realized the man had been killed. Word Count 1927 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #95 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #95] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #95 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside Platinum City Hidden Training Facility 28th May 3093 23:00pm Local His son cried for him. Sakamoto struggled from the bed, the blankets weighing him down. As he walked in the direction of the room, the hallway lengthened. His son’s cries intensified and he tried to walk faster, still stumbling against sleep. One of the blankets had wrapped itself around his midsection and tripped him as he tried to hurry; he fell against the wall and the house gave way. I have to reach my son, he thought. And then he woke up. Someone was standing over his bed. For a moment, a terrible moment, he thought it was his son Jabir al-Kaabi. “The Sargonian sent me,” said the man. Sakamoto’s guards were standing behind him. “All right,” said Sakamoto. He rolled over and put his feet on the floor, legs trembling from the dream. “You asked to be woken, General,” said one of the men. “Yes,” said Sakamoto. “Leave us.” “I have this,” said the messenger. He took a small card from his pocket. A set of numbers were written on the back. Sakamoto led the man to the chart table at the side and took a ruler, using the figures to measure in centimeters from Mecca the location of the ground tug. It had come ahead of schedule. It was already in Libya. They would have to leave now if they were to get out to Sargon before it did. It might even be too late. The Teppô could leave instantly. Some of the patrol hovers as well. The Jaluti had been told to fly their conventional aircraft to confuse the ground tug’s air cover as soon as it reached Sargon. That perhaps would buy him some time, but not much. Nor could the Jalutis be truly counted on. But this was what the Apostle willed. “There is also this,” said the messenger. He pulled open his shirt. For a split second Sakamoto thought that the man was wearing an explosive belt and had been sent by Living Dragon to kill him. His breath caught, and he cursed the Apostle for robbing him of the duty to avenge his son and wife. In the next moment Sakamoto felt ashamed for his blasphemy. But the man was as he claimed. He took a small vid-disc from the belt, handing it to Sakamoto. The General took the holo-player off the shelf and put the cartridge inside. He pulled open the viewer at the side of the player. “General Neisieem Sakamoto, may the sovereign Apostle and his servants be with you,” said the Marik Marshal. “Your blow will be the first in a long battle against the unbelievers. The Holy will rise with you and trample the infidel in the final battle. I commend you to her who sees and knows all, whose hand guides the heavens, whose wisdom illuminates the tiniest snail.” The small hologram flickered and then went blank. Sakamoto took the disc from the holo-player and put it into his pocket. He walked to the door. “Help me wake the others,” he told his guards. “We must leave right away.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Bangalore Air space 28th May 3093 23:10pm Local The computer beeped, announcing that the refuel was complete. The Living Dragon pilot, Lieutenant Barry ‘Borrow’ Normore, took the stick, rolling Cavalry One out from under the big black aircraft. He rode it down a moment, flying ahead of the ‘Indomitable’ to a preplanned course ahead of the flagship. “Cavalry Two,” he called to his wing mate. Fritz 'Berlin' Schmoll, on queue, slaved the computer to his forward cam and the view in his flight leaders screen changed; Lieutenant Normore saw the DropShip’s tail, as if he were in Cavalry Two, about a mile and a half behind the flagship. The verbal command was all the computer required to swap positions between him and his wing mate, giving him direct control of Cavalry Two while taking the stick in Cavalry One. He pushed Cavalry Two in for the refuel, guided by a set of cues in the middle of his view screen. He locked in, then, as the fuel began to flow, turned Cavalry Two back over to his wing mate Fritz ‘Berlin’ Schmoll again, jumping back into the cockpit of his own bird. “How are you doing, Stealthy Dragon Two?” he asked Kashira Mayank ‘Burn’ Chadha over the Razan’s Ronins radio circuit. “Looking good,” said the other pilot. “Quiet up here.” “Well, don’t fall asleep.” “Fat chance. Sho-i Torii keeps pinging me to keep me awake,” said ‘Burn’. Her voice suddenly became serious. “You got a Bible, Lieutenant?” ‘Borrow’ couldn’t have been more surprised if ‘Burn’ had come in and asked for . . . well, he didn’t know. “A Bible?” “Is that too weird a question?” “It’s not weird, it’s just . . . no offense, ‘Burn’, but you never struck me as the Bible type.” “I’m not. I just . . . I wanted to read it. You know what I mean.” The only thing ‘Borrow’ could remember ‘Burn’ reading, outside of tech manuals, was along the lines of PlayGirl . . . though generally with less words. “Maybe you should check out the Battalion chaplain when you get back to Dieron. Or, you know, one of the Living Dragon ministry types. They have a couple.” “Yeah. I’ll probably do that.” ‘Burn’ paused a second, then added, “You believe in God?” “Uh-huh.” “I think I do.” “Good,” said ‘Borrow’. “You blame him or her for losing your legs?” “I didn’t lose them,” ‘Borrow’ snapped. “No, I know what you mean. Probably. Sometimes I do. Yeah.” Sometimes. Though more often he blamed Lee. Lee mostly. Which wasn’t fair either. How many times had he told himself that, and yet he still blamed him, didn’t he? He still . . . did he want revenge? He remembered the screaming match, the fight that had finally gotten the asshole to walk. Jackass. ‘Borrow’ did still want revenge. Or rather, he wanted something, anything . . . he wanted…He wanted what he could never have. And every time he thought he could make peace with it, every time he came up to . . . not accepting it, but at least willing or able to live with it . . . to let it sleep . . . it came back and bit him. He didn’t want revenge. Seeing Lee in the wheelchair hadn’t felt good at all. And the proof of the damn thing was that he’d helped the idiot walk again. The lucky SOB. ‘Borrow’ was still mad, just not as mad as he had been. Or not mad in the same way. Because he couldn’t blame Lee, much as he wanted to. And blaming God . . . well, you didn’t blame God. That wasn’t the way it worked. If you blamed God, if you thought God did it, well then logically the next thought, the next question was: Why? If God did it, he must have had a reason. So maybe it was God and there was a purpose, or maybe it wasn’t . . . one way or the other, getting angry with him didn’t mean zip. It left you back at square one, having to deal with it. Which was what he did. Again and again and again. But he didn’t blame Lee anymore. Not in the same way. “I didn’t mean to pry,” said ‘Burn’. “This isn’t a good place for this kind of discussion,” said ‘Borrow’. “I’m going to get a Bible, I think, and read it,” said ‘Burn’. “I haven’t read it really.” “Go for it,” said ‘Borrow’. “Can we get back to work, Kashira?” “Aye, aye Lieutenant.” “Sho-ka Bahnken. . . the Teppô is moving!” said Chu-i Karen Tsang, breaking into the circuit. Word Count 1354 Name: Mayank Chadha Callsign: ‘Burn’ Rank: Kashira (Talon Sergeant) Military Hardware: Suzaku VTOL Lance: Stealthy Dragon Company: DEST Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Pilot AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #96 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #96] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #96 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Bangalore Air space 28th May 3093 23:30pm Local Lieutenant Barry 'Borrow' Normore slid the Cavalry toward the coastline, letting his speed drop below 150kph. The infrared setting on his target acquisition gear painted the craggy cliffs different shades of green and black, a placid mottle. But as he approached the camp, a jagged set of sticks appeared in a black triangle on the left . . . a lookout post with three rifles positioned to fire. The men who belonged to the rifles weren’t nearby, nor was anyone in a similar post about a quarter mile on. Two figures were moving down the cliff a few hundred meters away. Two Stygian Strike hovercraft were idling their engines near the structure, and a third had started out of the cave. The Teppô Artillery Support Vehicle wasn’t visible on the IR scan as ‘Borrow’ passed. “Positions are open, Operations leader,” ‘Borrow’ told Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka. “I’ve handed over the GPS data on the emplacements they have.” “Roger that,” Kintaro replied. “We’re a go. Immediate Freedom Command, commence firing. Ground teams are ten minutes from touching down.” ‘Borrow’ took Swarm One higher to avoid any stray incoming shells from his own Friendlies Extended Long Range Missile Tank Company. Then he settled the aircraft into an orbit over the camp so it could provide real-time images to the landing team and turned it over to the computer. Back in Swarm Two, Fritz 'Berlin' Schmoll took a run to the east, making sure the teams securing the village area didn’t need any assistance. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area 28th May 3093 23:35pm Local The shudder of the launcher rattled Major Jeffrey 'Tiger' Kochel’s teeth as the ten extended long range missiles leapt from their tubes, beginning the bombardment of the hulks in the cave more than a kilometer away. The shake relaxed him completely: It was all in play now, the attack under way. ‘Tiger’ put his hand over his ear, filtering out the sounds around him as he listened to the action on the Razan’s Ronins Command channel. The landing area was clear; the Trireme VTOL on its way in; the Teppô was moving. Thanks to the connections made by the Razan’s Ronins wizards, his Weapons people had pinpoint locations for the patrolling Stygians at the base. “Ready, Cap,” said Eyes. “Target the ground craft moving from the base. We’ll take them first.” “Craft One is targeted,” reported Weapons. “Craft Two is targeted.” “Fire Improved Swarms,” said ‘Tiger’. The missiles tore away from the twelve allied tanks of the Skondia Militia GIA Tank Company, popping upward from their vertical launcher. ‘Tiger’ saw them appear in the holographic display; their targets bore tiny initials, literally marked for death. “Let’s get these bastards,” he said. He punched the communications unit at his belt. “All hands . . . all personnel involved in Operation Immediate Freedom . . . hostilities are now under way. I promise you, we will revenge the deaths of our comrades who fell in action on March 12th, 3089. Each one of their deaths will be avenged tenfold.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Hidden Training Base 28th May 3093 23:38pm Local The first shell landed on the depilated tractor trailer nearest to the base just as Khalzaal got down to the entrance. Detritus and shrapnel sprayed only a few feet away. A second shell exploded, this one on another hulk farther up in the cave. The loud boom emptied the air of the noise around him. Khalzaal felt as if he had been lifted physically away from Skondia, pulled into a place above what was happening. The connection between the present and his thought was severed momentarily, and he felt as if he were independent not simply from his body, but from everything around him. The Mercenaries are attacking. The Razan’s Ronins must be outside. I will strangle them with my bare hands. Another explosion, this one on the nearby wreck closer to the base, shook him back to reality. “Quickly!” he shouted. “The Mercenaries are attacking us! We will not lay down for them! Quickly.” As he reached into his pocket for the communicator to pass the orders along, another volley from the Mercenary tanks landed, this time on the land nearby. Dust and dirt flew everywhere; he just barely managed to touch the quick-dial sequence that would signal that he was under an all-out attack. He looked at the communicator, not sure if the call went through. Send all the hell you can, he thought. There was no need to say it, however; the fact that the number was dialed and that he did not answer when called back would be enough. Khalzaal steadied his fingers to make a second call, alerting his crews farther west. A fresh missile detonated near the shoreline, shaking the ground so severely that he dropped the communicator. As he bent to grab it, another shell landed directly behind him, and the force of the explosion pushed him down the embankment toward the tarmac. He managed to grab a large stone pillar to stop his fall. He spit the dirt and rocks from his mouth. He’d lost the communicator somewhere along the way and had to scramble back up the hill for it. Another shell landed below, near the roadway Khalzaal sensed it before he heard the explosion, and in that small space of time realized he’d been lifted upward by the force. He started to scream, but before a sound could come from his mouth, the world turned black. Word Count 1001 General Sathen Sakamoto Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineer Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #97 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #97] shadeslayer Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 27 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #97 Lyran Alliance Bolan Province Hollabrunn Lyran OutPost Noble Lance’s Muster Area March 15th 3093, 1315 The alarm blared throughout the Lyran outpost. “All personnel get to your battle stations. Mech warriors you are to protect the drop ships at all costs. This is not a drill repeat this is not a drill,” came the strained voice of an officer over the intercom. Mech Warrior John Mendez looked at his lance mates who, instead of moving stood staring at him. Their faces echoed the shock that he dared not let show on his. It would not do for his subordinates to see him as shocked as they were. It would be worse yet if he let any of his current fears show. Instead he stood and shouted to his lance mates, “Well why the hell are you retards still sitting on your asses? Didn’t you hear, WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!! Come on Noble Lance get to your mechs. You have five minutes to strap in, hook up, and shove a cork up your ass. Let’s move.” A rough chorus of ‘Sir, yes sir!’s sounded behind him. It was half laughed due to the joke that was always one of Noble Lance’s favorites, despite its age. Not only were Zach, Jac, and Shannon his subordinates but they had been his friends for the last eighteen years and lance mates for six. He very much preferred to go into battle with his two good friends and his soon to be wife at his side. Noble Three was Zach, his call sign was ‘Physco’. He was the pilot of a Cougar salvaged and restored after a battle with Clan Jade Falcon. Zach often liked to stay back and use his paired Gauss Rifles to snipe before coming in for the kill with his dual medium pulse lasers. He had a shaved head and deep hazel eyes. He had a scar on his face from a bar room brawl that had been meant for John. Zach had taken it for him. Noble Four was Jac, his call sign was ‘Razor’. He was the pilot of a Bushwhacker. He usually stayed at medium range and hammered them hard. Jac had deep ebony skin bulging with muscle. He had short hair rather than a shaved head. Shannon was Noble Two. Her call sign was ‘Forehammer’. Shannon’s mech was the heaviest of the four being a sixty ton Argus. John had given her the mech out of a desire to keep her safe. There was a lot more armor between her and the enemy than in the Cougar or the Bushwhacker. She was his girlfriend and soon to be wife or so John hoped. And while John knew very well that he couldn’t take every shot for her, he could at the very least put her in the mech that had the most armor of the lance. John was Noble Lead. His call sign was ‘Shadeslayer’. He was the pilot of a fifty ton Hunchback IIC. His mech was outfitted with a lot of expensive but weight saving equipment as well as Clan weapons, which were also just as expensive though lighter and more compact than their Inner Sphere counterparts. John ran full speed with his lance mates down the hall, reviewing both the base layout and his mechs weapons and equipment. His lance had spent less than a week on this outpost. They were lost and John knew it. He led them through the base losing time they could be in their mechs. Left, right, right, left, left, right, left, straight, left, right, right, left, WALL!! He continued to review his Hunchback IIC. It had a 350 rated XXL engine. It had an XL gyro and a small cockpit. To save even more weight it had an Endo Steel internal structure. For armor it had nine tons of Ferro-Fibrous, so it was completely maxed out on armor. It had a pair of clan ER PPCs in the arms. A clan LRM-5 was in the head. In each side torso he had a pair of machine guns. The machine guns were also clan models. He also had a Clan version of the Beagle Active Probe. The left over weight went to eight clan double heat sinks and a total of two tons of ammo for both the LRM-5 and the machine guns. The heat sinks were to keep the mech cool after firing his main cannons. After five minutes of running, they finally found the mech hangar. They all ran for their mechs. John climbed up the ladder and into the Hunchback’s cockpit. He pressed a sequence of keys and felt her fusion reactor flare to life. He glanced around the displays that glowed in front of him with a practiced eye, running a much abbreviated systems check. He saw the status lights of his lance mates show green. “Move out Noble Team. Take your targets at will. Noble Two you’re with me. Three and Four, you know which drop ship to board. Remember we don’t take the mechs with us.” Mendez said through his radio. He received thee amber status lights. They all blinked twice. That was the signal for affirmative. John pushed his throttle forward slightly and his mech lifted her human like leg and took a giant step, putting her leg back down with a thunderous crash. He pushed the throttle forward just a touch more and she lurched forward suddenly. He emerged into the sunlight after the darkness of the hangar. He keyed a command and brought his Light Active Probe online. “Active Probe Online.” The mech’s disembodied voice alerted him to the status of the Probe. He keyed his radio. “Change of plans Noble Lance. Form up. We go together or not at all. I’ve got point. ‘Forehammer’ you take nine ‘o’clock, ‘Razor’ take six. ‘Physco’ take three. Form up Noble Lance let’s move.” Three amber status lights blinked again. About twelve seconds later, three blue status lights blinked three times. That was the signal meaning they were ready. “Alright Noble Lance, let’s move out. Stay sharp.” He said. He slammed his throttle forward and they thundered through the base, firing at anything that fired at them. Their goal was simple. Get to their personal civilian drop ship that would take them to the jump ship headed out system. Their base was being overrun by an overwhelming force. They were outnumbered five-to-one. His Noble Lance was performing a tactical retreat. But not exactly. They were faking their deaths. When a mech was destroyed it blew up like a miniature nuke. John had once seen a mech take out a pair of two hundred thirty foot tall skyscrapers. Two several million dollar buildings gone from a single mech with a fusion reactor that went critical. It was a surprise to John that anything could be salvaged after such a blast. But for the most part human remains never did. That’s what John was counting on. The drop ship coming to take them had a single Gauss Rifle. They were going to board the drop ship and have the drop ship take out one mech and set a chain reaction to destroy the others. They didn’t want to leave any salvage behind for the enemy. In an hour, John and his lance had reached the drop ship. They parked their mechs in a tightly packed diamond formation and shut them down. They boarded the drop ship. It was a Draconis Combine ship. The pilot wore no identification. The drop ship’s engines flared into existence. They lifted off and John watched out the window as the Cougar was struck in the chest. It was struck twice more before it hit the ground. Her fusion reactor was doing its job. It struck the ground with a blinding flash of light. Then it was gone leaving only metal scraps behind. They had all been watching through the windows. Zach finally said, “Well that was fun. We had better get some sleep.” They all took their seats. John and Shannon sat beside each other, hands interlocked. The other two quickly fell asleep. Once they had, John said to Shannon softly, “Shannon, do you think we will adjust to the mercenary life?” She took a moment to think. “I am sure we will. After all it was very similar to working for a House Military, wasn’t it. But even if we don’t at least we’ll be together, right?” John answered softly, “Of course my love. Speaking of which I have a question for you.” He stood up and pulled a small dark blue box out of his pocket. He dropped down to one knee and as he opened the box revealing a diamond ring he said, “Shannon, My love. I have naught to give you but my love. Still I must ask, will you marry me?” She gasped and threw herself at him. “Yes. Yes I will John.” Independent Barony Outreach (aka) Mercenary's World Romulus Harlech MRBC Hiring Hall April 2nd 3093, 1600 It was brutally hot on the planet Outreach. Enough so that John was soaked through with sweat. He looked at his team and saw them like wise soaked. John and his lance mates had faked their deaths successfully. The Lyran Alliance truly believed they died with their old mechs. In reality however, John and his lance mates – Zach, Jac, and Shannon – were going to join an age old enemy of their former House’s allegiance, the Draconis Combine. Not the Draconis Combine themselves but they were looking for a mercenary unit loyal to the Draconis Combine. They figured that this was the best way to keep their subterfuge of their deaths a secret. John Mendez and his lance were being taken to the renowned Hiring Hall to meet with the Draconis Combine Ambassador, Tomoe Katsuie. She had posted an opportunity almost three weeks ago with a very convincing proposal. After being in the Lyran Alliance since he was twenty, He liked serving but the military of the Lyran Alliance was almost a joke. And John hated to be made fun of. He absolutely hated it. So Ambassador Tomoe Katsuie had offered him an opportunity to join one of two units, the Akki Tsubasa or Razan’s Ronins. And he had asked for his lance mates to come along as well. She didn’t make any commitments as the former unit was currently engaged on the planet Land’s End and the latter one on Skondia. Even so, she had sent to pick him and his lance mates up and bring them to Outreach to discuss the specifics of their “transfer” to House Kurita. John and Shannon sat in the Trireme VTOL with their lance mates, Zach and Jac. Zach and Jac had both been told of their engagement. Fortunately, the pilot of the VTOL had a bottle of ninety year old Scotch whisky that he had been waiting to open until a special event. So they celebrated for an hour or so until Zach spilled it over the four of them. “Whoops sorry guys. You know how clumsy I get after space flight.” Was his response. They all got one last sip out of the bottle. Afterwards Zach and Jac both dozed off again, leaving John and Shannon alone. “I love you Shannon. “ John said softly. “I love you too, John.” She answered in a whisper. She laid her head on his shoulder comfortingly. Several minutes later she fell asleep. Unfortunately, so did his right arm. He wanted so bad to move it. His arm tingled numbly. Even though it hurt he didn’t dare move it. She looked so much like an angel that he couldn’t bare the thought of waking her. So he let them all sleep. Two hours later they arrived at the hiring hall. It was a tall building with a landing pad set some yards away. The pilot gracefully spun the craft while dropping altitude, gently touching the ground without so much as a bounce or jolt. Noble Lance exited the VTOL thanking the pilot for both the bottle of scotch and the ride. They went inside the Hiring Hall and sitting at the Draconis Combine table was their contact, Ambassador Tomoe Katsuie. She acknowledged John with a simple blink of her chestnut colored eyes. He told his lance mates to wait and reluctantly let go of Shannon’s hand. He approached the table where she sat. When he got there John held out his hand and was rebuffed as the Ambassador simply looked down at John’s proffered hand, keeping her own hands hidden inside the sleeves of her ornate Kimono. Sitting down to business, John took a seat across from her and waited. She was silent evidently thinking hard, though John knew not what about. Finally after ten minutes, she said. “Kon'nichiwa Mendez-sama. I’ve thought long and hard and I have finally decided what to do with you and your lance mates. It has put me through loops filled with loops.” “Here is what I have decided. A week ago I was informed that the XO of Razan’s Ronins was shot, he’s not dead but one of his lungs was completely destroyed. But due to his current condition he has expressed a desire to step down from the position of XO and while his commanding officer, Tai-sa Onishi Razan, is honoring his resignation, the Ronins are in need of an XO and due to your exemplary dossier and test scores and those of your lance mates too, I will put in a recommendation for that position to go to you. Now are you still interested in flying your sword under the House Kurita Banner or have you changed your mind about joining us?” John smiled and threw back his head. When Ambassador Katsuie asked him about it, he simply said. “I’d be a fool if I didn’t accept that wouldn’t I? My answer is yes. I will be greatly honored to accept such a high level position.” “Then it’s settled. Welcome aboard Mech Warrior Mendez. You will still need to impress the Ronins CO, Onishi Razan and if not, come back and see me. I have another opening with the Akki Tsubasa.” Word Count 2371 Like This Alright noble team you have five mintues to strap in hook up and shove a cork up your ass. I'm the only John Wayne on this unit. #98 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #98] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #98 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 28th May 3093 23:50pm Local Lieutenant Barry 'Borrow' Normore stared at the Trireme VTOL as it flew over the cliff, unsure exactly what was going on for a moment. Then he realized that the wing and engine had broken off and the aircraft was going down. The remaining three rotors tried valiantly to hold the doomed VTOL upright, but within a second or so the fuselage sagged to the right. The Trireme veered backward and then into a wide arc, slinging down toward the ground. A fire-ball erupted from the aircraft, spitting in the direction of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent village, as if the Trireme had spit at its enemy, a final insult before diving into the grave. The screen flared as the rest of the VTOL caught fire. It hit the ground a moment later, debris, fire, and steam erupting as if from a volcano. Fritz 'Berlin' Schmoll had already started to bring Cavalry Two over the area; he pressed the throttle against its stop, trying to accelerate. “We have a downed aircraft,” ’Borrow’ reported. “Trireme. Bad. Slim to no chance of survivors.” “Acknowledged,” said Major Dulce 'Bullet' Casarez. “I’m bringing Cavalry Two overhead and then will provide fire support for the landing team,” said ‘Berlin’. “Where the hell are those Suzakus?” “Suzakus are still three minutes out,” said ‘Bullet’. “They’re doing their best, ‘Borrow’.” “They’re going to have to do better.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 28th May 3093 23:51pm Local Major Jeffrey 'Tiger' Kochel stood over the newly installed Suzaku console in the Tactical Warfare Center of his Axel Mk 2 Heavy Tank. The system had failed and the Suzakus were flying blind. “Let’s move it, let’s move it,” he told Private Young. “I’m doing the best I can, sir.” Best wasn’t good enough, ‘Tiger’ realized. “Go-Cho Kam Ogunleye,” he said, turning to Kam Ogunleye. “Can you do anything with this or not?” “Damn straight, if you let me,” she told him. “Well do it. Go. Go, do it.” She moved toward the console. The private hesitated, glancing back at ‘Tiger’, then quickly jumped up. “SUZAKU CONTROL COMPUTER, OVERRIDE ESTABLISHED programming, authorization KamKam4356,” said Kam, pulling on the headset. She got a tone and instructions on the main screen: OVERRIDE. DESIGNATE NEW ORDERS. STEALTHY DRAGON1 & STEALTHY DRAGON2 WILL CONTINUE ON PRESENT COURSE UNTIL NEW ORDERS ENTERED. “Auto designate mode, full pilot command, disregard safety protocols, authorization KamKam4356. Disregard tactical encyclopedia, authorization KamKam4356.” As soon as the computer acknowledged, Kam punched the function key to designate targets. The computer didn’t beep for some reason, failing to accept the command. “Free-form mode,” she told the computer. “Sitrep on main screen,” she added, asking for a bird’s-eye view of the aircraft and the battlefield. The sitrep failed to come up. All right, she told herself, you’re not thinking clearly because your adrenaline is blasting. Take a deep breath and go back to the beginning. She took two breaths, neither as deep and slow as she wanted, then called for the sitrep again. Again the image failed to come up. She was sure she’d done it right; there must be a glitch in the connection with the DropShip’s circuit. There wasn’t any time to figure out where the problem was; the Suzakus pilots were almost at their target and would have to fire without target locks as soon as they arrived. “Manual Command,” she said. “Complete override. Authorization KamKam4356.” MANUAL COMMAND. “Trial mode. Stealthy Dragon1 is lead.” TRIAL MODE. STEALTHY DRAGON1 IS LEAD. “Good computer,” she said. UNKNOWN COMMAND. Kam reached to the pad of function keys on the left-hand side of the console, hitting key 3 for a video image. It was dark and the image was blurry, but she could see enough to make out the approaching cliffside. “We’re back up!” the gunner from the lead Suzaku, Kashira Mayank ‘Burn’ Chadha, shouted. . . . “Stealthy Dragon Gunner to MITCC commander, what’s the important target?” Mayank Chadha asked. “The buildings,” said ‘Tiger’. “I’m not asking you, I want Kintaro…Kintaro . . . MITCC commander, where do you want the Suzakus?” The reply came back garbled. “ ‘Burn’, they’re pinned down on the ridge by SRM fire from below,” said ‘Bullet’ over the Iwo Jima circuit. “Living Dragon Cavalry Flight is en route.” “I’m there . . . give me the location. There’s a glitch in the system and I can’t get the data through you directly. I don’t have time to figure it out, but I can gun it manually.” “McNamara will guide you in. I’m not even going to ask what’s going on over there,” added ‘Bullet’. “Talk to you later,” he said. “Kevin?” “This is McNamara,” said ‘Bullet’’s copilot. “Stealthy Dragon Leader?” “We have visual, no instruments, no enhancements, no thermals. Systems are dead. Give me a rough idea where that SRM is so I can erase it.” “Stand by.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 28th May 3093 23:55pm Local Kintaro took the Minutemen Jump Trooper’s heavy machine gun. The plastic box that contained the belt of 5.56mm slugs remained full. The Jump Trooper had two more boxes at his belt. A SRM round landed nearby. Kintaro grabbed the boxes and dragged the gun with him as he looked for better cover. Chu-i Tanaka, this is Stealthy Dragon Two’s Gunner.” “Chirag?” “I’m going to take out the SRMs. They’re firing from down near the base.” “Go for it,” said Kintaro, skidding into a shallow gully with the rest of his command squad. He could just barely hear the roar of the Suzakus somewhere below, launching their medium range missiles at the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents near the base. He switched the DEST Suit’s Circle Vision Visor Display into a sitrep mode, which should have shown him the location of his men. But the screen was blank; either something aboard the Indomitable or in his unit had gone offline. “Yo, ‘Barbie’, where are you?” Kintaro asked the Kashira over Shadow Platoon’s Kanazuchi Armor, Mya Vu, over the short-range Razan’s Ronin encrypted channel. “We’re about twenty meters from the lip of the canyon,” said the Kashira. “There’s a set of spider holes or maybe tunnels behind some of the rocks to the left. That’s where the ragheads are coming from. We’ve been trying to lob some SRMs down it but we haven’t made it. And they have a pretty good line of fire.” “Do you have a good location?” “I can get pretty damn close.” “All right. Stand by.” Kintaro switched into the Stealthy Dragon’s circuit. “Chirag? I have a hole that needs to be filled. If we use the TAG designator to mark it out, can you hit it with the fragmentation MRMS after you get the enemy SRMs?” “Do it.” “ ‘Barbie’, move back and lase it. I’ll get the Suzakus in.” “Working on it, Kashira.” “MITCC leader, this is Stealthy Dragon Two. Tell your people to duck.” There was a roar below as Suzakus One began chewing up the area around the base with its extended range medium lasers. Then the ridge exploded with a barrage of MRMs raining down on the spot ‘Barbie’ had designated with the laser. The fragmentation warhead was not the optimum weapon for the attack against the foxholes, but the roughly eighteen pounds worth of explosives in each of the ten warhead’s noses did a more than adequate landscaping job anyway, permanently rearranging the geography of the cliffside. “ ‘Barbie’, you OK?” Kintaro asked as the smoke cleared. “Oh yeah, we’re cool. We’re moving up.” “Hulda, you on the line?” asked Kintaro, trying to sort out where everyone was now that the biggest threat had been dealt with. “I’m your left flank, Chu-i,” The House Kurita Kashira, equivalent to a Talon Sergeant, Hulda Stjern, replied from her DEST Infiltration Suit. “We’re moving to the ridge.” She was heading up Maneuver Squad Two. “Vee Formation. Kichida and Keter take point,” she ordered her two vibroKatana wielders, “Yamura and Hirata you have the right flank, Bretan and I will take the left. Johnstone, you’ve got ‘The Bitch’, hang back and cover us. I need your head on a swivel.” ‘The Bitch’ was the squad’s affection term for the Support PPC that each DEST squad carried. “Look alive ladies.” No response from any of her squad mates. None was necessary. They melted into the darkness inside their Draconis Elite Strike Team Infiltration Suits. “ ‘Bison’?” The 5th Jump Infantry Third Platoon sergeant didn’t answer. His platoon would have been one of the last teams out of the Trireme. “Everybody, take the ridge,” Kintaro yelled and motioned with a hand signal. He extended his other arm and the KA-23 sub machine gun slide out in front of him like a scepter leading the way and began running for it himself. Word Count 1530 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #99 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #99] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #99 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 28th May 3093 23:51pm Local Sho-ko Gerard Bahnken pulled Suzaku one to the west, glancing quickly at the window in the lower left-hand corner of the screen, which showed the VTOL’s vital signs. Everything was in the green. “Stealthy Dragon Flight, keep to the south,” said Lieutenant Chan 'Borrow' Normore. “I’m taking a run at the patrol Stygian Strike Tank off to the east. Remember, they’re still shelling the hulks in the base.” “Negative, Living Dragon Cavalry leader,” said ‘Eyes’, cutting in. ‘Eyes’ was the Tactical Warfare Radar Operator inside the command Axel Mk2 Heavy Tank. “We’re targeting the patrol craft with Arrow IVs.” “Roger that, I see them inbound. This hovercraft isn’t targeted.” “We don’t have it.” “Watch where I go and you will.” “Standing by.” As Gerard Bahnken cleared out from below the cliff, he saw a group of shadows down by the training base. He pushed the stick in their direction but was moving too fast to get a shot without the computer’s automated targeting system, which his gunner had to take offline to gain control. Mayank Chadha called back to her wing mate, Chirag Shah the gunner in Suzaku Two, but he couldn’t manage it quickly enough to get a shot with that chopper either. And it was a good thing. She saw that the men were moving toward the hidden facility, not away from it. It was the other maneuver squad coming in to try and cut off retreat. She took a deep breath and went back to work. . . . Major Jeffrey 'Tiger' Kochel turned toward the holographic display as the words cut through the cacophony around him. “Teppô is out of the cave . . . moving at twelve or fifteen kilometers per hour to the west, to get away from the spikes and barriers,” said ‘Eyes’. “Don’t let the bastards get away. Don’t let the bastards get away!” “Weapons, target the Teppô,” he said. “We don’t have it on the targeting system. The sound is being obscured by the channel and the battle,” ‘Eyes’ interrupted. “We have the location from the Iwo Jima and we’re keeping track.” “What’s the status of the bombardment?” ‘Tiger’ asked. “Another few minutes.” “As soon as it’s complete, move east with the Teppô so he doesn’t get away,” said ‘Tiger’. “I want that son of a bitch.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 28th May 3093 23:59pm Local Chirag Shah found it difficult to concentrate with the chatter on the Stealthy Dragon circuit, but he didn’t want to completely turn it off. They were flying just outside the territorial limits of Jalut. The usual assortment of ground radars were working, but at the moment they had the skies to themselves. Flipping back and forth between two aircraft wasn’t as easy as ‘Borrow’ made it seem. Shah found it too easy to confuse which one he was in, since there were no visual cues on the main screen. Granted, part of the problem was that he was flying at night, and there were pretty much no visual cues period, just distant lights and the looming shadow of the DropShips. But it couldn’t take all that much to program in a line indicating which flight you were looking at, a color-coded bar or number at the top of the screen, say. “Stealthy Dragon Two, this is Indomitable,” said it’s Major Renn Rothwell. “We have a flight from the Galaport Convoy coming north. The Charians are running a bit ahead of schedule.” Shah glanced at the sitrep map. The ground tug was at the very far end of the screen, as were two Light Strike Fighter aircraft flying patrol nearby. The Light Strike Fighters were versatile aircraft, though not much of a match for even a light aerospace fighters or the VTOLs, which were invisible to their radar except at very close range. “We’ve advised them an operation is in progress,” Renn added. “Their course will take them through the center of the Sargon, as we were briefed. Closest point of contact with the operation should be about seventy kilometers in an hour or so. I’m advising the rest of the task force.” “Roger that,” said Shah. “I have two conventional fighters, coming off Aden,” said Mayank ‘Burn’ Chadha, referring to an airfield in northern Jalut. “They may be interested in the Galaport.” “Let them know,” said Renn. “doing so.” The two coventional fighters were identified as MSF-42 Bluehawk Combat Support Fighters, an export model of the front-line Magistracy of Canopus light fighter. They were about two hundred miles away from Indomitable. “Another pair right behind them,” added ‘Burn’. “Must be putting on quite a show for their planetary Government,” said Kashira Darwin Balubayan, turning Stealthy Dragon Two back toward the DropShip. “Stealthy Dragon Two, be advised that first flight of conventional fighters is changing course,” said ‘Burn’ a minute later. “I may be paranoid, but they look like they’re on a direct vector toward the assault area. And they’re moving.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area on the ground 29th May 3093 00:02pm Local Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ reached the cliffside just as Kashjira Mya ‘Barbie’ Vu went down. A pair of automatic rifles popped below, but he couldn’t see where the enemy was. A Suzaku screamed along the base area to the right but didn’t fire. Kintaro saw a knot of soldiers working their way down above the base area. He knew the hulking shadow in the middle was ‘Barbie’, but the friend-or-foe identifier system wasn’t placing an upside triangle on the screen to indicate Friend, as it should have. “MITCC team, this is MITCC commander,” he said. “I have a malfunction with the friend-or-foe identifier. It may be common to everyone. Use extreme caution.” “Hey, Sarge, think I have the same problem,” said ‘Barbie’, “ ’cause I’m looking back up at you and can’t see your triangle.” “Our set’s working,” said Sho-ka Ka Cheong Chan co of the Razan’s Ronin Shadow Platoons KAGE DEST battle armor squad. “We’ll use caution, however. We have some of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents pinned down.” As Kintaro ended his transmission, gunfire stoked up from his direction. He craned his neck upward but couldn’t see anything. “Stealthy Dragon Flight, this is MITCC leader,” said Kintaro. “We’re having trouble with the friend-or-foe.” “I heard,” said Gerard Bahnken. “There’s no time to sort it out now. Use the laser designator for targets and I’ll have the Suzakus attack only at designated targets.” “Good,” said Kintaro. “Iwo Jima?” “Yeah, we’re copying,” said Major Dulce 'Bullet' Casarez. “We see your team going down the face of the cliff. There’s some sort of glitch in the programming. My bet is the interface with enemy ECM suite.” “Good guess,” said Kam. “Heads up!” yelled ‘Barbie’. Almost simultaneously a series of explosions rocked the base of the cliff. Kintaro fell on his butt and began sliding down the hillside, knocking into one of the Minutemen Troopers. A heavy machine gun began firing directly below, quickly answered by man portable Support Particle Projection Cannon and short ranged missiles. By the time Kintaro got to his knees the gunfire had stopped. “Couple of caves there, Chu-i,” said ‘Barbie’. “Mo-fo’s are holed up in them.” Mo-fo was ‘Barbie’’s abbreviation for a none-too-polite street term. “Can you laze the cave?” Kintaro asked. “Yeah, I’m going to try.” “Mayank?” “On it, MITCC.” As the Suzakus spun out from over the open desert, one of the vehicles at the base began firing at it. The arc of gunfire provided just enough light for Kintaro to see the black streak of a short range missile as it approached. Or at least he thought he saw it . . . in the next moment the space where the vehicle had been flashed white and the ferrocrete erupted. The Suzakus, meanwhile, stuttered in the air as their missile launchers delivered salvo after salvo of their deadly warheads on the caves. Kintaro got up, grabbing hold of the Marine nearby and tugging him along; within a few seconds they had found a path and were able to clamber down to a ledge where three other members of the team were huddled. Something flashed to the left. SRM, thought Kintaro. Before he had time to react, two of the Minutemen Jump Troopers had begun firing in that direction and a third had used the heavy grenade launcher on his rifle to obliterate the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent. Silently, via a series of hand signals, Lieutenant Lexi 'Ghost' Shamer, indicated that one squad from her SRM jump platoon should assume a point position up behind a ridgeline line thirty meters ahead; her second squad she indicated was to take up an over watch position; and to her command squad she signal that they would proceed forward on their bellies. Another salvo missiles struck another vehicle inside the base perimeter, this one farther from the gate. There was a flash but no secondary explosion. “Gerard, pull the Suzakus out,” said Kintaro. “Let’s take stock.” “Roger that MITCC. Suzakus pulling out.” “Clear sailing, Chu-i,” said Chan ten or fifteen meters below. “Don’t get too cocky,” said Kintaro. “Hey, cocky’s my middle name. Just ask the girls.” As if in answer, a machine-gun began chewing up the rocks in Chan’s general vicinity. Once more the Minutemen Troopers near Kintaro answered with a combination of rifle fire and grenades; the weapon fell silent. “Team One? ‘Ghost’, what are you doing?” Kintaro asked as the pandemonium subsided. “We’re at the edge of the village,” answered Sho-ko Deyama. “Leftenant ‘Ghost’ is preparing a team to begin a sweep.” “All right. ‘Ghost’, are you on the circuit?” There was no reply. “She can’t hear you, Chu-i. Another malfunction, I think. I’ll pass the word along.” “Listen, tell her we’re moving ahead the way we drew it up.” “Gotcha,” said Deyama. By now the rest of the team was moving in the direction of the caves and training base. The landing party from the Hiryo WiGE had engaged a small force at the base of the cliff and was exchanging fire. Kintaro detached Hulda from his second maneuver squad and sent her and two of his Raiden Tsunami Battle Armor in that direction, telling them to try and get into a position where they could either use their Tsunami gauss rifles or Hulda’s Starfire Extended Range Laser Rifle superior range to snipe at the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents or lase them for the Suzakus. He and the others went down the hillside to join with ‘Barbie’ and the Marines, who were clearing the caves. “Back!” yelled ‘Barbie’ as she tossed a fragmentation grenade inside one of the openings. The team ducked down as the ordinance exploded, then immediately rose again and peppered the opening with ‘Mech grade medium lase fire. Despite the heavy onslaught, at least one of the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents managed to survive long enough to fire back when the party started inside the cave. The earth itself seemed to erupt as the Assault Battle Armor returned fire, nearly everyone emptying their power packs on the black hole. “Discipline! Discipline!” yelled someone as the cannon fire died down. Good advice, thought Kintaro, though it had about as much effect as yelling stop at a runaway train. “I’m OK,” said ‘Barbie’, who apparently had been hit by the SRM, fortunately in her chest plate which was scarred and crack but not yet full breached. “Two frags on the next one,” she added, apparently talking to one of her Kanazuchi Troopers, not Kintaro. “One deep, one shallow.” “And then a second wave,” said Kintaro. “These bastards have nine lives.” “Mo-fo’s always do, Chu-i, Mo-fo’s always do.” WORD COUNT 2003 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #100 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #100] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #100 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 29th May 3093 00:09am Local The Axel IIC XL variant was introduced during 3067, this version of the Axel uses an XL Fusion Engine to reach a top speed of 84kph. Like the standard Axel IIC, the weaponry has been completely replaced with Clan equipment and the tank is protected by an ECM Suite, CASE and eleven and a half tons of Ferro-Fibrous armor. The weapons include an AP Gauss Rifle, ER Large Laser, and two LRM-15 missile launchers equipped with Artemis IV fire control systems. It also carries an advanced Targeting Computer. All the Axel's main weaponry is mounted in its turret. Its main weapons include the Series 7N Extended Range Large Laser, backed up by a Tau-II Anti-personnel Gauss Rifle. For its long range firepower, it’s been equipped with two Delta Dart LRM 15 Rack Launchers complete with Artemis Fire Control and 32 volleys of missiles, 16 salvos for each launcher. The vehicle is also been noted for its Targeting Computer and Guardian Electronic Counter Measure Suite which make this vehicle an exceptional reconnaissance and spotter vehicle. The Axel Heavy Tanks were capable of launching ordinance from either its vertical turret-launch tubes as missiles or it into the water as torpedoes. The vertical-launched missiles had a somewhat longer range than their cousins the torpedoes, adding approximately eight hundred seventy meters to the two hundred seventy that the torpedo alone could run for an effective range of well over a kilometer. While the Teppô was within range, the targeting system on the Axels had trouble picking it out. Major Jeffrey 'Tiger' Kochel waited impatiently as his lance of Axels idled around, paralleling the Teppô and waiting for it to clear into an easier targeting area. “We have the target,” said ‘Eyes’, relaying the message from Weapons to ‘Tiger’, who was still in the cupola with Peanut and the tank’s crew. “Fire.” One hundred sixty missiles popped from the vertical launching pods from twelve tanks of the Morgon’s Militia’s tank Company, their rocket motors igniting them and steering them unsteadily in the direction of the Teppô. Launching missiles like this had always seemed to ‘Tiger’ an unnatural and awkward act, more so because the erupting rockets always appeared to lurch in the air, moving unsteadily as if the missile they propelled in the canister was literally a fish out of water. The TAG system, however, had been perfected over several decades, and the idea of launching unguided missiles from missile launchers was little more than an extension of firing them and forgetting them . . . an art perfected after the Clan Invasion. Lengthening their effective range made excellent sense, allowing his tanks and hovercrafts to strike the Teppô before they became vulnerable themselves. The Axel’s designers had planned for her to carry the latest weapons, and had accordingly designed both the turret-launching system and missile tubes . . . along with their associated targeting and control systems . . . for the Artemis-Capable and NARC LRMs. The Artemis-Capable in particular was an excellent missile. Relatively slim at 12.75 inches in diameter, the missile . . . in its upgraded version . . . could avoid countermeasures, operate entirely on its own once fired, and strike virtually any vehicle or Battlemech operating in the Inner Sphere. The NARC was a lighter version of the Artemis-Capable, equipped with a more limited guidance system, in essence a poor man’s version of the very expensive Artemis-Capable LRM tuned to operate with a homing beacon. Semi-Guided LRMs: A recent innovation, Semi-Guided missiles use TAG to increase the accuracy of LRMs. Unfortunately, none of these weapons were aboard the Axels. The Semi-Guided . . . which probably would have been a good choice here . . . was still in development and not yet available. And the cost of them had limited the Razan’s Ronin’s purchases. Because it was in short supply, the powers-that-be had rationed it among the Skondia Militia GIA’s vehicles and battlemechs capable of carrying it. The Axels had not made the cut. Instead, its tubes were filled with old standbys, the extended long range ‘dumb’ missiles as opposed to ‘smart’ missiles that corrected their trajectories while in flight. First introduced in 2400 by the Terran Hegemony, Long Range Missiles were designed to engage the enemy at great distances at the expense of damage dealt. Adapted towards the profusion of electronic jamming on the battlefield and the effectiveness of current armor designs, these missiles are capable of indirect fire and disperse over a smaller area than Short Range Missiles. Inner Sphere LRM launchers achieve this range by firing at a ballistic launch angle, making them less accurate at close range. Clan LRM launchers do not suffer from this effect, in addition to being smaller and more compact, thanks to their technological advantage. LRMs are highly upgradable, able to fire a variety of warheads and benefit from devices such as Artemis IV FCS. When they were first deployed in 2400, the standard LRM were at least arguably the best of their class: lightweight, versatile killers with about a hundred pounds of explosives in their teeth. A couple of centuries and several upgrades later, they were problematic weapons in areas where the electronic counter measures, other nearby contacts, and a system admittedly designed for different weapons, multiplied the confusion factor exponentially. Eleven of the flights of ten missiles each failed completely after leaving their launchers; the reason wasn’t clear. The twelth flight, however, made a beeline for the Super Heavy Combat Vehicle. Traveling at 1,124 kilometers per hour, the missiles needed nearly eight seconds to get to its target. By the fourth second it became clear that they had lost their way; by the fifth, it had veered off course toward the shoreline. The gunner couldn’t tell what it was tracking, and ‘Tiger’ didn’t particularly care. He gave the order for the Sarcen Lance to close in on the Teppô, which was running in flank mode almost exactly due west about three-quarters of a mile from the base. “Captian, that’s going to take us out of the designated patrol area,” said ‘Peanut’. “Are you questioning my orders?” barked ‘Tiger’. “No, sir.” “Then do it. ‘Eyes’!” “Major?” “Target the Teppô.” “Weapons is working on it.” “Active radar. Find the bastards.” “Yes, sir,” said ‘Eyes’. The battlenet fell silent for a moment. “Teppô is targeted,” ‘Eyes’ said finally. “Launch!” The weapons bolted from the launcher. “Patrol craft coming out from the west,” reported ‘Eyes’. “Two clicks.” “Where’d they come from?” asked ‘Tiger’. “Just popped in there.” ‘Tiger’ barked out orders to the lance of Skondia Militia GIA Fulcrum Heavy Hover Tanks that the vehicles be destroyed. Within seconds the ground reverberated with the steady thud of forty 12.75 inch Extended Long Range Missile System. It took a dozen shots to strike the Insurgent crafts, but only two to destroy them. “Missiles incoming!” warned the computer. “Evasive action,” ‘Tiger’ said. “Use the ECMs.” “We’re down to only two tanks that have them functioning, Major,” said ‘Peanut’. “Now or never.” “ECMs.” The order was passed and the two functioning Axel’s forward ECM tubes opened, expelling the devices. They flew about a quarter of a mile and began emitting their bubble fog. The incoming missiles were completely baffled, and detonated harmlessly thirty meters past any of their intended targets cratering the top soil kicking up chunks of sod. ‘Tiger’ glanced at the hologram. He could only find one of his tanks tracking the Teppô. “Weapons, how are we doing on that Teppô?” he asked. “Salvo thirteen missed, sir. Another malfunction. Fourteen hit with thirty three percent saturation.” “Fire Salvos fifteen and sixteen.” “That will run are ammo bins dry,” said ‘Peanut’. “I can count.” “Target acquired, target locked,” said Weapons. “Fire, damn it! I want the buzzards picking over his bones before daybreak.” “Firing Long range missile salvos fifteen and sixteen.” “We better destroy the damn thing this time,” muttered ‘Tiger’ as the missiles whipped away from the Axel. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 28th May 3093 23:59pm Local While the two Suzakus were performing well, real life combat was proving harder on resources than the test range. Suzaku Two was not only out of MRMs, but was in danger of overheating due to the loss of heat sinks, and borderline on fuel. Kashira Darwin Balubayan plotted a course for it to fly back to the Indomitable to reload and refuel; if the crews moved quickly enough, Stealthy Dragon Flight could keep at least one VTOL over the battle area. He had to dial into the DropShip maintenance channel to talk to the mate there, but couldn’t find the preset, and ended up resorting to the common intercom channel. Someone acknowledged and he told the computer to bring the Suzaku back to the deck of the DropShip, safing the weapons just in case it became rambunctious. “What are you doing with that attack ‘copter?” Major Renn Rothwell demanded. “There’s a knot of Insurgents hiding in that building there by the base,” Sho-ka Gerard Bahnken told her. “No, the other one, heading toward us.” “I need to refuel and rearm,” indicated Gerard’s wingmate, Kashira Balubayan. “We can’t recover it now. We’re in the middle of a battle.” The Flight Leader Gerard turned on her ferociously. “What the hell do you want him to do with it? Crash it into the treeline?” Renn went silent with rage. Gerard thought for a moment that Major Rothwell would deny Balubayan. But instead Gerard overheard the Major of the Oo-Suzumebachi-class DropShip ordering someone to prepare to recover the VTOL. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area on the Ground 29th May 3093 00:15am Local Sakamoto’ s son called to him from the pool, yelling to his father for help. They’d gone to visit his cousin Abdul, and the boy was playing in the back while the adults debated the obligations a man had to the Apostle and his family. Sakamoto’s cousin had just claimed that the family must come first . . . blasphemy, or close to it, Sakamoto argued, for wasn’t that the point of the story of Mikhail Chigorin? His son’s cries shook him; there was something in his voice that he had never heard before, a kind of immediate terror that pulled Sakamoto to action. The father sprang to help the son, bolting over the wall at the back of the yard. The pool was only a few yards away, yet with every step Sakamoto took it moved no closer. He saw his son Jabir go under. Sakamoto ran faster, faster, ran with all his all might, yet got no closer to saving him, no closer to pulling him out. Lightning split the sky. Something pushed Sakamoto’s head into the dirt. He felt himself flying into the water, flying into the pool. This isn’t happening, he thought. This is a dream, one of the dreams. I would never have withstood the Devime Master’s test. I would not have killed my son for the Apostle’s sake, even though I should have. I am not worthy to be a follower of the way of Free Skondia Mutineers. The ground shook. Sakamoto swallowed a mouthful of dirt and grit. He began to choke uncontrollably. Somewhere in the middle of the fit he realized that he was lying at the edge of the base, his body twisted and his rifle in his hand. Dark shadow filled the landscape in front of him. The Razan’s RoninS. I will be avenged. I cannot achieve my mission, but I will be avenged on Satan. Let me strangle the bastard demon with my bare hands and take him to hell with me. He pushed down, rising from the ground. There were two, three, more of his men nearby. “The hovercrafts . . . the Mercenary hovercrafts are out there,” he said, pointing. “I am going to fight them hand-to-hand.” He started out across the tarmac. Two or three of his men followed and pulled him back. “Let me go!” he yelled. “Let me go!” “General, it’s not the Razan’s Ronins. It’s one of their allies, a tank detachment from the Skondia Militia GIA Battlemech Regiment ,” said Saed. “We’ve shot down one of their VTOLs. They’ve sent a unit to look for survivors.” In his fury, Sakamoto had a hard time understanding the words. Finally, he understood what his Lieutenant was trying to say. “Our patrol crafts have gotten out, all but two,” said Saed. He held up a satellite phone. “The Teppô is gone. I’ve passed the order to our 6th company of Moltke Main Battle Tanks to attack the Galaport Ground Tug and its escorts. They will not fail.” “Tell them instead to attack the Razan’s Ronins,” Sakamoto told him. “But . . . ” “Do it. Then gather every man you can find and get them into the transports. Quickly!” he yelled. “We have only a little time.” WORD COUNT 2209 General Sathen Sakamoto Free Skondia Mutineers OR Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA DC-RD-06-02 #101 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 29th May 3093 00:15am Local As the situation over the base settled down, Lieutenant Barry ‘Borrow’ Normore turned his attention to the cliff and the spot where the Trireme had crashed, about a half mile west from the hidden training facility. He crisscrossed as slowly as possible overhead, hoping the infrared sensors would pick up something in the woods he could direct the Hiryo’s crews to. The Razan’s Ronin’s DEST section had sent two teams from its Shadow platoon Support Squad to the area; ‘Borrow’ could talk to them by communicating with the squad’s commander via one of the portable Razan’s Ronin communication systems. He took a first pass at three thousand feet, circling back and dropping lower, working the Cavalry down through two thousand feet. He activated the active probe’s C3 search-and-rescue mode, directing the Cavalry’s computer to look for men in the woods. The computer began beeping immediately, drawing a box about three hundred meters from the northernmost WiGE. ‘Borrow’ vectored the rescuers toward them and pushed the Cavalry even lower, edging down close to five hundred feet. His airspeed bled off and he got a stall warning, C3 getting nervous. “Logistics Four has recovered one body,” reported the Hiryo Gun-sho (Sergeant) after he passed along the coordinates. “Pretty mangled.” “Cavalry leader.” Major Dulce ‘Bullet’ Casarez looked at the radar plot from aboard the Iwo Jima showing the two flights of the 50 ton Jalut Bluehawk Combat Support Fighter. The conventional aircraft had been flying on the same course for nearly five minutes; there seemed no doubt they were flying toward the assault area. “Indomitable, this is Iwo Jima. Renn, intercept those Bluehawks. I don’t want them in the assault area.” “And if they don’t turn back?” “Direct them to. If they arm their weapons, engage and shoot them down.” “Indomitable. Will do.” “You don’t think that’s too aggressive, Major?” asked the copilot. “The DCRR MITCC already lost a Trireme Transport and its crew,” replied ‘Bullet’. “I don’t intend on losing any others if there’s a possibility that I can do something to prevent it.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 29th May 3093 00:25am Local Sho-ka Gerard Bahnken took Stealthy Dragon One down to 25,000 feet, running head-on at the first element of Bluehawks. The aircrafts were moving fairly quickly, around 600 knots. They were fifty miles away from his nose; the combined speeds of the aircrafts meant they’d run through each other’s windshields in a little more than three minutes if nothing changed. Stealthy Dragon Two paralleled One, by two and a half miles. Kashira Darwin Balubayan was his wingman in the second Suzaku, Stealthy Dragon Two, and started a slight turn farther east. “Intercept doublet pattern ‘Borrow’-Two,” he told his wingman, naming a preset tactical maneuver that ‘Borrow’ used so often it had been named after him. While the contingencies of the encounter could immensely complicate what happened, the outline of the plan was simple: Stealthy Dragon One would engage the flight nearly head-on, attacking the lead plane, which was running a bit farther west and higher than the second Bluehawk. Stealthy Dragon Two would angle in from the east, aiming for a tail attack on the second Bluehawk as it broke and ran or moved to help its mate. “Sane” pilots probably wouldn’t have chosen the attack . . . for one thing, they’d be flying aircraft with missiles capable of engaging the enemy at long range . . . but the plan took advantage of the Suzaku’s strengths. The computer targeting computer was much better at making close-quarter rear-end attacks than it was at any other angle; in fact, it was probably as good as his gunner Mayank Chadha was, so letting Balubayan take the chopper and follow that attack plan gave him a high chance of success. The small profile of the helicopter meant that neither attack ‘copter would be detected by the Bluehawk’s radar until practically the moment that Mayank began firing. She’d not only be able to begin the engagement on her terms, but probably fire and be beyond the enemy fighter before it even knew they were there. If she missed and both Jalut conventional fighter went after Stealthy Dragon Two . . . the aggressive and logical action . . . Gerard could easily turn and continue to concentrate on their original target, even if the enemy’s wingmate maneuvered to get on to his tail. That’s what he wanted it to do, since it would give Stealthy Dragon Two an easier and more predictable target. And if both aerospace fighters turned to run away, they would be sitting ducks, at least until their afterburners helped them regain momentum. Ironically, the strongest answer to ‘Borrow’-Two was to split and take each Suzaku head-on . . . then go for afterburners and cruise home at a couple of times the speed of sound. While it was unlikely to yield a kill for the Bluehawks, it also presented the Suzakus with the least amount of tango time . . . and the higher the tango time for the Suzakus, the higher the tomb time for the opponents. One of Kyle’s favorite sayings. Kyle’s not here, Gerard thought. Time to let him rest. “Stealthy Dragon One? What’s your situation?” asked Major Renn Rothwell from aboard the Oo-Suzumebachi Class DropShip the Indomitable. “Lining up for an intercept. Weapons are ready.” “Roger that,” said Renn. She heard her switch over to the frequency the Jalut pilots were using and broadcast a prerecorded warning in a distinct Slavic dialect that they were approaching a Kurita military DropShip and were to turn back. “No acknowledgment,” said ‘Spiderman’, the Indomitable’s Communications Officer, after a few seconds. “All channels,” said Renn. The warning was repeated, again without an acknowledgment. Just for good measure, ‘Spiderman’ repeated it in English, French, & Arabic. “They certainly know we’re here,” said Telly, the airborne radar warning operator. “Their fuzz busters are probably hotter than a toaster in a boardinghouse.” “Intercept in zero-two minutes,” said Gerard. “What’s your call, Major?” “They’re activating weapons radars!” said ‘Spiderman’. “Trying to lock on us!” “Stealthy Dragon One and Two, engage enemy fighters,” said Renn. “Roger that,” said Gerard, leaning closer to the screen. Draconis Combine Dieron Military District Ashiro Prefecture Mirach Musasalah Mission Area in the Air 29th November 00:23am Local The thing Mayank Chadha couldn’t figure was: Why make it so easy for us? Why attack at all? We’re just going to shoot you down. The lead 50 ton Bluehawk did not see the 25 ton Suzakus, either on radar or visually, until the computer turned Mayank’s firing cue gold. By then it was too late for the Bluehawk to do much of anything. Undecided about whether to fight or flee, the Jalut pilot attempted to do both, launching twenty all-aspect LRM heat-seekers at the Suzaku and trying to tuck hard on his right wing and roll away. The all-aspect . . . known to Aerojocks as an Listen-Kills warhead. . . was an excellent weapon, able to accelerate to Mach 2.5 and guided by an extraordinarily sensitive infrared seeker in its nose. But even the best infrared seeker . . . and the Listen-Kill certainly was in the running for consideration . . . had trouble picking out a relatively small target like the Suzaku head-on, especially in an encounter where seconds loomed like hours. Gerard flicked left as the enemy started to turn, only vaguely aware of the air-to-air weapon’s flash. Gerard’s Gunner, Mayank’s cue turned red; she counted “one-two” to herself and then fired, as working in tandem like a well oiled machine, Gerard slid the nose of the Suzaku down slightly to keep the two streams from their extended range medium laser on the Bluehawk’s wings. By the time the Listen-Kill missiles flew past the Suzaku One, the Bluehawk fighter that launched them had burst into a U-shaped ring of red flames. Gerard pulled off abruptly, afraid the explosion would spray debris in the attack ‘copter’s path. He cleared without getting hit, and corrected slightly north to line up an intercept on the second group of aerospace fighter, some thirty miles away. He wanted to execute the same plan, but Stealthy Dragon Two was having trouble with the Bluehawk it was assigned to nail. The Jalut pilot turned toward the Suzaku’s path before Stealthy Dragon Two was in range to fire, and Balubayan changed his attack pattern. His gunner managed a few shots as the two aircraft passed, the Bluehawk heading farther west. By the time Stealthy Dragon Two came around and got on the Jaluti plane’s tail, it had launched a score of long range ‘dumb’ missiles . . . not at the Suzaku, but at the DropShip guiding him. Balubayan blocked out the sounds of rear seat co-Pilot Chirag Shah responding in his headset, taking control of Stealthy Dragon Two evasive action himself to press the attack. Anticipating that the Bluehawk would try to run home, he cut back north, slamming the throttle . . . and sure enough, the Bluehawk swept back, accelerating so fast that even though he’d expected it, his gunner nearly missed the shot. Nearly wasn’t good enough for the Bluehawk pilot, though . . . Chirag punched a half a score of medium range missiles through the rear engine housing, crippling the conventional fighter as surely as a knife slicing a horse’s knee tendons. The pilot bailed a few seconds later. Gerard turned back north, trying to get into position to take the run on the second element of Jalut conventional fighters. But he was now too far ahead to pull the same maneuver; he had to settle for what they called Train Attack One . . . one ship in a deep trail, reacting to whatever was left after the lead Combat Support fighter made its attack. Mayank aimed the reticule from Stealthy Dragon One just as her targeting computer closed in for the kill; she got a red in the target screen and pressed the trigger. She was too optimistic . . . her laser trailed downward, and the Bluehawk jinked hard to Suzaku’s right. This element of combat fighter was flying parallel, and Gerard flew through without another shot. He intuitively banked to get behind the flight, turning as sharply as he could, the small VTOL recording more than eight g’s on her air frame. Flown by his wing mate, Stealthy Dragon Two lined up for a head-on shot at the easternmost Bluehawk, which hadn’t changed course. Gerard let his wing mate hold onto the Suzaku and angled toward the other plane, which had begun to dive to the west. “Stealthy Dragon One, we’re going to take those Bluehawks out with missiles,” said Renn. “We have another group of four Bluehawks taking off from Jalut. Meet them.” “Stealthy Dragon Two is engaging,” said Gerard. “Pull off,” said Renn. “Roger that,” he said reluctantly, overriding his previous decision to allow Balubayan to hold on to the Bluehawk. “Balubayan abort. Turn and burn for the four bogies coming up off the tarmac at bearing zero two niner.“ . . . Renn waited until ‘Spiderman’ got a lock on the second Bluehawk fighter to give the order to fire. The Artemis IV Fire Controlled pluses clunked off the launcher, whipping forward from beneath the DropShip’s belly. “Close it up,” she told her copilot. “They’re locking . . . they’ve launched SRMs.” “ECMs.” “Jesus, Major, they’re scrambling their whole air force,” said Telly. “I have that group of four Bluehawk, and now two Mosquito Light Fighter s, four more Mosquito Light Fighter s coming out of the north. They’re going for broke.” “So are we.” . . . Stealthy Dragon had their pick of targets . . . four Bluehawks and six Mosquito had joined the playing field. The Bluehawks were more serious threats to the DropShip, and closer besides . . . Gerard set the two Suzakus up for a run at their front quarters from the east. This time the attack was a no brainer, with the enemy combat fighters spread out at easy intervals. Despite the two earlier encounters, they were unaware of the Suzakus and took no evasive maneuvers as the two Suzakus of Stealthy Dragon Flight approached. The cockpit of one of the Bluehawks materialized in the center of Mayank’s firing screen, the image complete with the bobbing head of the pilot. Mayank hesitated . . . it seemed inhumane for some reason to target the man flying the plane rather than the metal itself . . . but then she squeezed the trigger. The beam of coherent light washed across the support fighter for perhaps two whole seconds, twice as long as the Suzaku’s cannon needed to obliterate the Magistracy of Canopus -built machine. A second fighter appeared almost immediately. Starting to ride the adrenaline high of the encounter, Mayank Chadha fired even though her computer showed she didn’t have a shot. She scolded herself as her pilot turned right, just in time to witness Chirag’s second score of the night with Stealthy Dragon Two . . . a screaming attack from above that tore off the right wing of one of the Bluehawks. As Gerard hunted for Mayank’s next target, he got a warning from the radar warning receiver . . . one of the Bluehawks had managed to turn and was on his Suzaku’s tail. He pulled the Bluehawk with them in a dive and then a tuck to the right, weaving back to the left and then pulling up with a twist to the left. The Bluehawk hung with the smaller VTOL, very close to its tail but not quite lined up for a shot. Sweat rode down Gerard’s back as he ducked left then right, then left again. The Suzaku flicked in the sky, changing course so sharply that he was on the verge of being knocked senseless by the heavy g’s. Finally the Bluehawk shot past. Mayank waited a second for their tail boom to steady, then zeroed out her opponent with a steady burst. As the plane exploded, a second fighter came into view; her Pilot, Gerard immediately turned to close for an attack. But they’d lost so much airspeed already that he got a stall warning . . . it was a wonder, between his maneuvers and the effect of the cannon, that the Suzaku wasn’t moving backward. Feeling cocky, he slammed the fuselage down and circled in the direction he figured the Bluehawk would take. The Suzaku slid sideways and down, more brick than anything approaching a controllable VTOL. Part of it was luck, but Gerard managed to put the Suzaku on the tail of the Bluehawk and immediately Mayank begin firing. She was too flatfooted to get more than a few laser blasts into the Bluehawk fighter, and when the Bluehawk pulled away, they had to let it go. Gerard turned to check the sitrep screen to reorient himself when he got a warning buzzer from the computer . . . they were low on fuel. Very low . . . ten minutes. “Mosquito Light Fighters are moving to engage us,” ‘Spiderman’ told her. “Eight of them. They’re five minutes from missile range.” “We need to gas up,” Gerard said. “Both birds.” “This isn’t a good time,” Renn told him. “It’s a lousy time,” said Gerard. “But we’re almost bone dry.” “We’re being tracked by a surface radar,” added ‘Spiderman’. “LRMs . . . we’re spiked! They’re firing!” Word Count 2635 Major Renn Rothwell Oo-Suzumebachi-Class DropShip Pilot Living Dragon Flight OR Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #102 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #102] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #102 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 29th May 3093 00:15am Local Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka selected full magnification on his DEST Suit’s integral range finder binoculars looking at the rocks. “Yeah, it’s definitely booby-trapped,” he told Kashira Mya ‘Barbie’ Vu, who’d first pointed it out. “Question is, why would they bother?” “Worth finding out, don’t you think?” asked the Kashira (Talon Sergeant). “All right, we’ll come back.” He turned to one of the unarmored Minutemen Troopers nearby and told him to watch the cave entrance. “It’s booby-trapped, so stay back, and keep everybody else back,” added Kintaro. “Chu-i, the Leftenant wants to talk to you,” said Deyama. “I’m giving her my helmet.” “All right.” “Chu-i?” “Yeah, ‘Ghost’, go ahead.” “We think we’ve found the headquarters in Building Two here. I’m getting the demolition team to look at it now, with one of your men. You want to come and see?” The buildings were about two hundred meters to the east. “I’ll be along in a few minutes, once we’re sure we have this side of the camp secured. Have you heard from the Ronin’s support teams on the Trireme rescue?” “Negative. My whole communication system is gone,” she said. “Even the Minutemen Trooper’s unit is out.” “I’ll get back to you.” “My best guess is they used it to store weapons and ammo, Chu-i,” said ‘Barbie’ through her Kanazuchi external speaker enhanced voice. She sounded eerie. “Couple of boxes of ammo for Rorynex RM-3/XXI on the ground there. Might’ve grabbed them when we were coming.” “All right. Take your team and hook up with the second assault party moving in from the west off the Hiryo,” Kintaro told her. “I’m going to go with Cinderella and see what ‘Ghost’ has.” “She’s hot,” said Gunsho (Sergeant) David Shiri. “For a Minutemen Trooper.” “I’ll forget you said that, Gunsho,” snapped Kintaro. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area on the ground 29th May 3093 00:21am Local Dead bodies lay on both sides of the ferrocrete tarmac on the rock-strewn base. More than six dozen Insurgents had been killed, many by the bombardment. Several corpses were missing large parts of their anatomy. A head had landed on the rocks, with its eyes open, face contorted with pain, as if the man were emerging from hell below. Kintaro stared at it, not unnerved exactly, but arrested by the grotesqueness of war and death. The man was his enemy, and surely would have killed him without remorse. Yet Kintaro felt a stab of pity for him. The absurd futility captured by the man’s death stare reached through the DEST armor Kintaro wore, reached past the tough shell he donned to do his job. The Razan’s Ronin platoon leader had seen much brutality in the past few years . . . he’d been on Yorii and before then on Caph before joining Razan’s Ronins, and had come to know the many ways a corpse could be mangled. But each time he faced death again, there was something fresh, something unexpected, something still capable of eliciting pity and even sorrow. He reminded himself what his job was and plunged on, following the Minutemen private across the ferrocrete tarmac that formed a narrow and crude walkway to the main area of the compound. There were more bodies here, including two that belonged to their MECC unit. Kintaro saw the young man who’d been ahead of him stop, then pitch forward to his hands and knees. Kintaro gave him a moment, then leaned down close to his ear. “Take a second,” he told the young Minutemen Trooper. “But then you have to move on. For yourself. You can’t do anything for them now. We’ll grieve later.” “Yes, sir,” said the Minutemen Trooper, voice choked with tears. Kintaro rose and walked alone toward the corner of a nearby building, where another member of his squad was crouched with his KA-23 subgun up and at the ready as he peered out along its barrel. Calling the structure a building was optimistic; it was more a hovel that leaned against the side of the hill. “Down here, Kintaro,” said ‘Ghost’. He spotted her near the largest of the buildings, on the side overlooking one of the garages. He made his way down quickly. “We have no more resistance, or at least they’ve stopped firing,” she said. “There are two Iveco Burro trucks, some other small Pit Bull and Bulldog pickup trucks parked in the garage on that side there. Saracen Hover Lance and the Skondia Militia GIA Tank company have taken care of the hulks. There doesn’t seem to be anyone in them.” She turned and pointed to the trucks in the garage with the barrel of her own assault rifle. “This building looks like a command post. There’s radio equipment and other gear inside. We didn’t see any booby traps.” “It’s clean,” Deyama said behind her. “All right,” said Kintaro. “Next objective is the cave where the Teppô was, beyond that dock and the roadblock there. The Bullet Drone reports no vessels inside, but there may be people.” “I’d like a chance to help in the search for our people on the Trireme,” said ‘Ghost’. “I think we should do that first.” “I think we can assist the search while we’re looking for an entrance to the interior,” Kintaro told her. “We need to get a DEST Squad in before we take on the cave. The Hiryo too. I don’t want to start an assault, or a possible assault, until we have all the possible entrances covered anyway. I’ll check on what the possibilities are while you take charge of the search. Why don’t you take Sergeant Major Deyama Nighthawk PA-L Armor and two squads of your Minutemen Troopers with you?” “Thank you, I will,” said ‘Ghost’. “And I’m holding on to your circle vision visor too. Does this thing get ball games?” “Only Kurita Samurai Contest .” “Those are the only ones I watch.” “Hey, Chu-i! I got people! Up here in the second tier of hovels.” ‘Ghost’ and a Minutemen Trooper trailed Kintaro as he trotted up the hill and then climbed a short set of rock steps to ‘Barbie’. The Kashira (Talon Sergeant) was holding her ‘Mech grade medium laser on a pair of frail-looking women. One was middle-aged, the other in her early twenties. They wore heavy black clothes with veils drawn over their faces. “I have a couple of civilians,” Kintaro said over the Razan’s Ronin’s Command circuit. “I need the Slavic translator.” “He’s on the line,” said Chu-i (Lieutenant) Karen Tsang. As Kintaro started to ask for the words “We mean no harm,” the younger woman jumped up. “Grenade!” yelled ‘Barbie’. Without thinking, Kintaro threw himself at the woman. ‘Barbie’ tried to grab the grenade, which flew up into the air. Twisting back, Kintaro saw it hover a few inches above his head, an old thirtieth century-style weapon. He also saw very clearly that its pin had been pulled. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 29th May 3093 00:23am Local The woman’s grenade floated in the air ten inches from Kintaro’s head. As he started to cringe, his body bracing for the shock, an ebony-shaded hand appeared from nowhere, grabbing the grenade and in the same motion throwing it out over the cliff. A blackness filled his eyes in the next second. He became blind. Then he was falling, crashing against the rocks, pulling the woman who’d tried to kill them against the ground. The grenade exploded somewhere below. Kintaro rolled and pushed upright, his only thought for his weapon, trained up and sweeping the area. He gripped the woman unsteadily, then managed to throw her to the left, away from his muzzle. She continued to struggle, grabbing something from her body. One shot rang out and she fell back, then tumbled down the hill. Kintaro rolled to his feet. “Thanks, ‘Barbie’,” he said. “The Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) grabbed the grenade and threw it,” said ‘Barbie’. She pointed to Chano Fuqua. “He shot the bitch too.” “She had another grenade in her dress there,” said Chano, motioning with the gun. His voice had a tinge of regret. “Fortunately she couldn’t pull the pin. Crazy.” “You better search this one,” Kintaro said, pointing to the older woman on the side. She’d either fainted or been knocked unconscious. ‘Let’s make sure we’re secure here before you go anywhere else,” he told Fuqua. “And thanks.” “It’s my Duty to keep you from getting your brains splattered out all over Skondia, Chu-i.” Word Count 1477 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #103 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #103] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #103 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 29th May 3093 00:30am Local “Hit on radar contact one!” said ‘Weapons’, relaying the news that one flight of their missiles had struck the Free Skondia Mutineers Super Heavy Combat Vehicle. “It’s about time,” said Major Jeffrey 'Tiger' Kochel. “‘Eyes’ . . . status of that Teppô Artillery Vehicle?” “Still trying to determine, sir.” “ ‘Weapons’ . . . flights fifteen and sixteen?” “En route and true.” Hallelujah, thought ‘Tiger’. “The Teppô Artillery Vehicle is dead in the water,” said ‘Eyes’. “Time to impact on Fulcrum’s flight eleven is six seconds,” said ‘Peanut’. “Twelve is right behind.” “Stay on him.” “I’m trying, ‘Tiger’,” said, Sergeant Matthew Truxillo, the executive officer of the 1st Royal Alpha Battalion’s Hover Lance. ‘Tiger’ detected some of his pique at being bypassed creeping into his voice but didn’t comment on it; he’d take care of the man later on, reward him for his patience. He’d reward all the crew members . . . best damn crew in all of the Regiment, bar none. ‘Tiger’ turned his attention to the rest of the battle. All of the vessels coming from the targeted base area had been struck, but there were other tanks in the vicinity, which he guessed must be part of the Insurgent fleet. They would have to neutralize as many as they could. His move against the Teppô Artillery Vehicle had taken him in the direction of three Stygian hovercrafts identified as small patrol vehicles by the DropShip; these were heading out from the hidden training base to his west about eight kilometers away. The Ronin’s Hiyro had engaged a similar-sized craft three kilometers beyond them. ‘Tiger’ decided that since the Fulcrums were already headed in that direction and the land objective had been secured, they would cut off the three patrol craft and stand by to render assistance to the Hiyro. He told Casarez to remain over at the Insurgent camp, supporting the landing team and Byakko. The rules of engagement required the hovercrafts to positively identify any craft not at the landing site as an Insurgent before opening fire, unless they were fired on first or represented an immediate threat. ‘Tiger’ had communications issue a warning to the three patrol craft, telling them that they were interfering with a MRBC-sponsored operation and were to return to their homes. “No answer,” said the communications officer. “ ‘Peanut’, target the Stygian patrol craft identified as Surface Contacts Fourteen, Fifteen, and Sixteen.” ‘Peanut’ issued the command. As it was being passed along, ‘Eyes’ reported that the Free Skondia Mutineers Super Heavy Combat Vehicle had opened its artillery tubes. “ ‘Weapons’, what’s the status of the missiles?” said ‘Tiger’. “Fulcrum eleven is one second away.” “Shells in the air!” warned the computerized threat indicator. The twenty-one-inch artillery shell carried by the enemy Teppô Artillery Vehicle were heavier and deadlier than those ‘Tiger’s hovercraft had launched and had a much longer range . . . as much as fifty kilometers. As the crew began to respond, ‘Eyes’ reported that the combined Fulcrums eleven flights had detonated prematurely, too far from the Teppô Artillery Vehicle to damage it. ‘Tiger’ stifled a curse, struggling to control his anger. He would get the bastard . . . he would get all of the bastards . . . but to do that he had to remain calm. But remaining calm was not his strong suit. “Living Dragon DS Iwo Jima to MITCC Tactical Command,” said Major Dulce ‘Bullet’ Casarez over the Razan’s Ronins circuit. “The Indomitable is engaging fighters from Jalut. We’d like to go to their assistance.” “We need you to stand by,” said ‘Eyes’. “All of our forces are engaged with the enemy.” “They’re under heavy attack.” “I know what they’re doing,” said ‘Tiger’, butting in. “They’ve shot down half the Jalut Air Force. They don’t need any help. Do you have gauss rifle ammo left?” “Affirmative,” said ‘Bullet’. “ ‘Eyes’, give them a target.” “That amphibious hovercraft they saw the other day is about one kilometers north of us. It has another craft alongside it, possibly as an escort.” “Frag the bastard,” cut in ‘Tiger’. “Your orders covering engagement prohibit me from doing that,” replied the Major coldly. “They’ve been in demilitarization zone since before the start of the engagement. And besides, I can’t get close enough for a visual without leaving this area.” How could the flyboys remain so stinking calm when he had just lost several men? “Damn it, Casarez . . . find a way to engage him. Your people in the other DropShip don’t seem to be having any problem.” “They were threatened and had to defend themselves.” “A good plan for you. We’re going after the Teppô Artillery Vehicle.” “Iwo Jima out.” The feed snapped clean. “What’s going on with those artillery shells that were launched at us?” said ‘Tiger’. “Two are still tracking, Major. They are Arrow IVs” The voices came in rapid succession as the different elements of the battle were processed. “Bingo! We have another strike on the Teppô Artillery Vehicle!” said ‘Weapons’. “One of the Free Skondia Mutineers artillery shells has detonated sixty meters to our rear.” “We have the Stygian patrol craft zeroed in.” “Second Free Skondia Mutineers artillery shell is going off course. We’re in the clear.” Suddenly, one of the radar operators shouted so loud his voice echoed in the space: “I have visual of a Teppô Artillery Vehicle breaking up!” “Put them over the battlenet,” said ‘Tiger’. “Crew, we have destroyed the bandit Teppô. We have routed the Insurgents from their base. We are in the process of breaking the Insurgents’ backs.” The crew began to cheer. This is what revenge sounds like, ‘Tiger’ thought. The celebration was interrupted by a new warning, this one from the Living Dragon aerodyne DropShips over the battle area. “Missiles in the air . . . four . . . eight flights of twenty LRM missiles! Launched in the direction of the Axels.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 29th May 3093 00:40am Local ‘Bullet’ had just told Fritz 'Berlin' Schmoll to take Cavalry Two toward the amphibious hovercraft when the barrage of missiles sprang from it. “Multiple launches,” reported ‘Dish’. “They’re all LRM missiles. We’re confirmed on that.” “I have three flights of the missiles in view,” said ‘Berlin’. “Can you take them out?” asked ‘Bullet’. “Not all of them,” said ‘Berlin’. “‘Dish’ . . . can you ID guidance or the missile types?” “Working on it, Major. Flights1 and Flights2 have NARC seekers . . . radar, capable of home on jam. Active. Others are similar . . . may be a Semi-Guided in there as well. That would default to an infrared if jammed. Guess here is that they had a location or at least an approximate location based on the Lance of Axels radar and fired.” “I have Flights 5 and Flights 6,” said ‘Berlin’, singling out two of the missile flights ‘Dish’ had ID’d as having heat-seeking heads. “McNamara,” Major Casarez called to his veteran gunner, ”target the two flights closest to the Axels with our streak missile batteries,” ‘Bullet’ said. “Once the streak missiles are off, we’ll sink the hovercraft with the rest of our gauss rifle ammo.” The Oo-Suzumebachi was in its hybrid gunship configuration mode. “Working on it, Major. Going to need you to come to a new course.” “Lay it in.” “I’m engaging,” said ‘Berlin’. ‘Bullet’ swung the DropShip into a better position for McNamara, shortening the distance the Targa-7 fire control system would need to take to intercept the missiles. No matter how it was guided, the Terran Hegemony-made Long Range Missile was at its heart a flying bomb, a set of wings and an engine that could take its 480-kilogram warhead just over the speed of sound. In its most recent version, it could travel about six hundred thirty meters. “Opening bomb bay doors,” said ‘Bullet’ as he swung into position. The aircraft shuddered as she opened her belly to the elements, exposing the streak missile on her revolving dispenser. “Locked on Flight3,” said the gunner. “Fire.” “Firing. Locked on Flight 4.” “Fire.” The missiles clunked off the rack, their sleek bodies accelerating rapidly. The standard Streak could top Mach 4; the Streak-plus, a NAIS special, went a hair faster but carried a heavier ATM HE warhead, which, as on the standard version, sat just forward of the middle of the missile. “Indomitable, this is Iwo Jima . . . I’m afraid we have our hands full for the moment,” he told Renn, not wanting to let her think he’d forgotten about her. “We’re engaging multiple flights of long range missiles.” “We have it under control, Daddy.” He hated her calling him Daddy. “Iwo Jima, I need you to come west with me,” said ‘Berlin’. “Missiles are away,” said McNamara. “Tracking.” “Button up,” ‘Bullet’ told him. “And hang on.” . . . ‘Berlin’ pushed Cavalry Two into a dive at the course the computer plotted for the LRM missiles. In some ways, the Caliope-to-DropShip projectiles were easy targets . . . they flew in predictable paths and couldn’t defend themselves. On the other hand, they were fast enough that he had only one real shot at them; if he missed, he’d never be able to turn and get another shot. The computer showed the course perfectly. ‘Berlin’ was moving exactly onto his mark. There was only one problem . . . the missiles weren’t there. ‘Berlin’ slid the throttle back, cutting down his speed. According to the sitrep plot at the bottom right of his visor, the LRM missiles should be right in front of him. But neither the synthesized radar view nor the low-light video showed them. None of them. Like twenty LRMs simply disappeared. Confused, he tucked the Cavalry into a bank. His flight leader had Cavalry One . . . the targeting screen showed that he was nearly ready to fire. Realizing that he was unlikely to do any better than the CO in the encounter, ‘Berlin’ concentrated on his visual. “Strike on Flight 3,” reported McNamara, watching the Streak-pluses. “Hey, ‘Dish’, they’re foxing us somehow, confusing the radar with false returns,” said ‘Berlin’. “I just chased a nonexistent flight of missiles.” “Working on it . . . sorry, we haven’t seen these ECMs before. More missiles in the air!” ‘Berlin’ selected his infrared feed and saw forty missiles within striking distance; he went for the closer flight, putting several large laser blast into the rear and sending most of the missiles spinning out of control. He glanced briefly at the radar and saw three other flights there . . . all phony. “ They’re still tricking us,” he told ‘Dish’. “Yeah,” said the radar operator. “I’m trying to narrow down the units that have the counter-ECMs. Whatever they’re using is good . . . maybe Wobbie modifications or something new out of the League.” “Better alert the Axels to the false signals.” “Already have.” WORD COUNT 1897 Name: Darwin Balubayan Callsign: 'Berlin' Rank: Kashira Role: Attack Pilot MH: Suzaku VTOL Unit: Dragon Cavalry OR Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Posted Image #104 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #104] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #104 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 29th May 3093 00:45am Local The vessel loomed ahead, more a shadow on the ground than a combat WiGE. “Come,” General Sathen Sakamoto told the others who had joined him. “Commend yourselves to the Apostle, and follow.” He stripped off his shirt and jacket and darted across the tarmac, his only weapon the knife at his belt. Six others followed him, the best runners of his small force. And then more . . . another dozen, eighteen, all of the men who had survived. But after a few strides, Sakamoto faltered; the night air was too cold and his legs too old to reach his destination. Let me die if it is your will, he told his Devine Master. A sharp pain attack his side. He felt himself going down and thought of his son. And then he was there, his hand touching the side of the WiGE . . . it felt like hard rubber, as if the entire craft were sheathed in a tanker’s suit. Sakamoto didn’t know where to put his hands. He had found his way to the flank of the enemy’s craft, propelled entirely by the Apostle’s will. The Apostle had delivered this vessel so he could strike at Skondia. He wanted the devil’s own sword wielded in the name of Plague. No one was topside. The vehicle was about as twice as long as his own patrol hovercrafts, sitting low on the ground on two centrifugal fans. The nose held a large Thunderbolt Missile Launch tube forward of a sloped and angled cockpit, the broad fantail at the rear dominated by two long diamond shaped fins. A hand grasped him. The others had arrived. “Wait until we are all aboard,” said Sakamoto. “The Apostle has brought us and will provide. We are in his hands and fight a devil’s war.” . . . The heavy Thunderbolt Launcher at the front of the enemy WiGE began to fire. The deck shook with it, and the vehicle started to roll. The dark hatchway to the interior lay a few feet ahead. Sakamoto could see the men moving inside, two of them . . . devil men with horns and spikes at their heads. The knife burned hot in his hand. “For the Glory of the Apostle!” he yelled, plunging into the darkness. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 29th May 3093 00:45am Local Sho-ka Gerard Bahnken turned Stealthy Dragon One toward the lead Bluehawk then checked his radar for Stealthy Dragon Two. Kashira Darwin Balubayan whirled the VTOL toward the southeast, hunting for the Oo-Suzumebachi class DropShip, Indomitable. “I have an idea, Renn,” Gerard said. “I’ll hold them off with Stealthy Dragon One long enough to get a couple hundred pounds of juice into Stealthy Dragon Two, then together we can go back and finish them off.” “I don’t know if we can complete a refuel under fire,” said the DropShip Major Renn Rothwell. “I think it’s worth a try,” said Gerard. “It’s better than just running away and losing both Suzakus.” “Agreed,” she snapped back. “Let’s try.” Balubayan lined up Stealthy Dragon Two, on orders from his flight leader to take the VTOL in for the refuel. The computer balked . . . its safety protocols would not allow it to refuel while the DropShip was being targeted by the enemy. Both he and Renn had to authorize the override. The extra step took only a few seconds, but by the time he got back his full attention back to piloting Stealthy Dragon Two, the computer had missed its shot. Rather than breaking and going for the other coventional fighters in the pack . . . a sane pilots natural choice, since there were no less than four targets within spitting distance . . . Balubayan had stubbornly stayed on the lead Bluehawk. It led it to the very edge of his Bingo fuel range with Indomitable. Stealthy Dragon Two backed off and banked around, taking himself out of the fight even though he had been ordered to stay with the other Support Combat fighter. It was the first tactical flaw Gerard had found in his wingmate’s thinking. It disappointed him somehow, as if Kashira Balubayan should have known better. He’d figure out how to use it in the next exercise to try and beat Lieutenant Barry ‘Borrow’ Normore, something no one had ever done. Kyle would have loved that. He was always talking about beating the master. Gerard pushed the memory of his friend away as he took control of the Suzaku. “Something the matter Sho-ka?” asked his Co-Pilot/Gunner Mayank Chadha via their headsets. “Nothing a little hot lead won’t fix.” The sky before him was studded with fighters. The Bluehawks stoked their engines, trying to close on the DropShip . . . apparently they had exhausted their supply of Long range missiles from their Multi-Missile Launcher and were now only carrying machine guns and needed to get up close to take a shot. He pulled to just inside of a half a kilometer of the nearest combat fighter and order Mayank to fire. She lit their extended range medium lasers, melting a long, jagged line through the fuselage and back into the tailing medium fighter. She kept moving forward, barely letting up on the trigger before finding her second target, a Mosquito Light Strike Fighter. Before she could fire, a missile sprang from beneath the enemy’s wing. Cursing, Mayank waited for the target cue to blink then go solid red. “You better not hit me, you son of a bitch,” she said, dialing the enemy into oblivion. . . . “Break right, you have to turn right!” ‘Spiderman’, the co-pilot of the Indomitable, yelled to Renn. “We need to stay straight for the refuel.” “ ‘Lancer’! There’s a Bluehawk closing from your left and two short range missiles coming from behind.” “ECMs,” said Renn calmly. The decoys shot out from the DropShip as the short range missiles sped toward it. The cascade of flares were too inviting a target for the antiquated missiles to ignore . . . both tucked downward, exploding more than a mile away. Which left the Bluehawk that somehow managed to elude everything else in the sky and was drawing a bead on their left flank. “He’s taking a missile run,” said ‘Spiderman’. “Darwin, how’s your fuel?” “Two more minutes.” “We don’t have two minutes,” said Renn as the first missile from the Bluehawk’s twin LRM 10 rack began crashing into the DropShip's fuselage. . . . “Darwin, abort refuel, engage hostile bandit at bearing two three niner,” ordered Gerard, and in a breath Kashira Balubayan was falling past the DropShip. He tilted his rotor slightly to the left, feeling his way, not seeing, blind in the dark night. Flashes of red sped overhead. He lifted himself and there was the enemy, dead-on in the middle of his screen. “Fire Missiles!” he yelled to his Gunner, Chirag Shah, and the black circle wing 50 ton fighter hurling itself toward him turned golden orange. Balubayan flew through it, shuddering as debris rained in every direction. He climbed then circled back, looking for the DropShip. As he turned he was jerked backward, away from his VTOL. Disoriented, he blinked . . . then saw the flames coming from the top of the Oo-Suzumebachi in the screen. . . . “Radar is offline,” ‘Spiderman’ told Renn. “Least of our problems.” “Thirty percent in engine two. We may lose her.” “Fire control.” “Fire control. Sounding warning.” A klaxon began to sound inside the DropShip. “Everybody, make sure your oxygen is on,” shouted Renn over the automated warning. The DropShip had a system that flooded vulnerable areas of the spacecraft to extinguish fires. It worked by denying the flames oxygen . . . which of course meant it would kill the crew as well. “Do it,” she told the copilot. Renn put Indomitable into a preset trail maneuver and shouted to ‘Spiderman’, “Take the stick, I’m going to see about the crew!” She pulled on her oxygen mask, then undid her restraints to check on her crew. Everyone had their masks on and was buckled in except her Weapons Officer, Delaford. “You really have to be tied in tight,” Renn told him, snapping and then snugging the restraints on his ejection seat. “Thanks,” said Delaford. “We’re not going out, are we?” “Nah, not today,” said Renn. She turned, then flew against the side of the seat as the DropShip rolled hard on its right side. The lights began to blink, indicating that the fire-suppression system had been activated. She pulled herself upright and slid in behind a console as the DropShip pitched forward. She tumbled against the bulkhead over the panel hard enough to rebound backward into the seat, and she lay there dazed for a moment, temporarily stunned. Get your gear back on, chick. You’re coming undone. Mask is out and where the hell is your helmet? “Screw yourself, ‘Bullet’.” You undid your mask. You can’t breathe right. “Screw it.” Come on. Something or someone seemed to take hold of the mask and center it on her face. Renn had her helmet and cinched it . . . when had she put it on? She fumbled with the buckle on the left side of her flightsuit; when it finally cinched, she went to connect the right and found it already closed. The DropShip pushed back, leveling off . . . then shot back down, its nose pitched nearly perpendicular to Skondia. Making her way back to the cockpit, she shouted to her first mate ‘Spiderman’, “Let it go. I’ve got it!” Renn scrambled to compensate as engine four went offline. The radar housing had been smashed all to hell, there were holes in the wing, and at least some of the control surfaces were no longer attached to the DropShip. “Hang with me, ‘Spiderman’,” she yelled. “I’m hanging.” “We have engine one and engine three, that’s all we need,” she told him. “Oh, yeah,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “I have the stick, I have the stick,” she told him. “We have to stay calm and straight.” Not necessarily in that order either. Renn managed to keep the DropShip from falling into a spin, but still had to struggle to quell the roller-coaster movements up and down, the aerodyne spacecraft riding the momentum toward the ocean. Each plunge got a little shallower and more controllable, and she finally managed to get the aircraft level. Pushing her shoulders back, she took a deep breath in celebration . . . then went back to work. “First thing I want you to do,” she told ‘Spiderman’, “is get us a course to an airfield. See what the distance is to that province in Masque that the Triremes used. That’s probably our best bet at this point. I’ll take stock of the damage. At some point we’ll see if we can bring engine four back online. Gerard?” “Sorry, Renn.” “Wasn’t your fault . . . that Bluehawk ducked our ECM somehow. But I think next time, we may test the old saying about discretion being the better part of valor.” Renn checked with the rest of the crew; no one had been hurt. The Bluehawks, meanwhile, had returned to Jalut . . . those that hadn’t been shot down. By their count, they had gunned down seven. “Eight . . . Stealthy Dragon Two got one more before it ran out of fuel. Darwin did the honorable thing and blew the bird up when it went dry,” said Gerard. “He didn’t make it,” he deadpanned reviewing the video feed. “Sargon is asking if we need assistance,” said ‘Spiderman’. “Unless they want to add another four or five thousand feet to their runway, tell them thanks but no thanks,” said Renn. WORD COUNT 2041 Major Renn Rothwell Oo-Suzumebachi-Class DropShip Pilot Living Dragon Flight OR Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #105 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #105] Iceman Chu-i (Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 340 posts 0 warning points DC-RD-06-02 #105 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 29th May 3093 00:40am Local Chu-i Kintaro ‘Iceman’ Tanaka walked down to the side of the cliff, heart pounding heavily, afraid the grenade meant for him had killed or wounded the Minutemen Trooper hunched on the ground ahead. But the man wasn’t hurt, at least not physically . . . he was throwing up. Kintaro knelt beside him and recognized the young man he’d been with earlier. “I saw a head,” mumbled the kid. “Oh, God.” The Minutemen Trooper leaned over and puked again. Kintaro gripped the jacket of the bulletproof vest. After a few more heaves the Minutemen Trooper straightened, and Kintaro helped him to his feet. “I’m OK, sir. I’m OK.” “I know you are, guy. It sucks.” The Minutemen Trooper looked at him for a second. “Does it get easier?” Kintaro thought back to the first man he’d seen die . . . or rather, the first one he’d realized was a man, not a faceless enemy in the distance. He’d puked too. In one sense, it did get easier . . . he didn’t throw up anymore. But in all the important ways, it didn’t get easier at all. “You’ll get through it, kid. You’re doing your job.” “Thank you, sir,” snapped the Minutemen Trooper, a bit of his strength returning. Kintaro rapped his arm gently with his armored fist, then went to check on the others. . . . “Have sergeant major Deyama take charge of securing any documents and equipment from the headquarters building,” Kintaro told Lieutenant Lexi ‘Ghost’ Shamer over the team circuit. “We ought to try to evacuate it out to the Hiyro as soon as we can, just in case the natives get restless. We’ll use the Skondia SWAT Special Forces teams to conduct searches of the other buildings. They’re trained for that stuff. But I want them to go slow. There’s no sense tripping over more booby traps in the dark.” “Agreed, Chu-i.” Something flashed in the sky overhead. A loud clap of thunder followed. There were two more bursts in rapid succession. “Missiles,” Kintaro told the Skondia Militia GIA Jump Infantry leftenant. “Being intercepted. Lots of them.” “Chu-i, Stealthy Dragon Lead Gunner is trying to get ahold of you on the Razan’s Ronins circuit,” said Kashira Mya ‘Barbie’ Vu. “ ’Thee most beautiful woman in the world’ wants to sing in your ear.” “ ‘Barbie’, you would joke on the doorstep of hell,” said Kintaro. “Aw, been there, done that, Chu-i.” Kintaro clicked into the line. “MITCC leader.” “Kintaro, We have to pull Stealthy Dragon Two back to refuel. It’s going to be at least twenty minutes before we get back to you. Stealthy Dragon One is being refueled but it may take a while to get back in the air.” He could hear a lot of voices behind her on the DropShip, rushed, calm, nearly hysterical . . . the adrenaline-soaked sounds of battle. “It’s OK, Mayank. We’re secure here. What’s your situation?” “We’ve disabled the Teppô Artillery Support Vehicle, but we’ve been targeted by missiles. Gonna be a few minutes before it sorts out and Gerard can land to refuel . . . have to go.” “Go.” ‘Ghost’ had climbed down the cliffside and was standing before him with one of her Minutemen Troopers . . . the one who had just emptied the contents of his stomach on the tarmac. “Kintaro, I’m going to take Luke here and check on the search of the Trireme wreckage as we’d planned. I think it’s better to leave Deyama and the others to help ‘Barbie’ sort out the situation in the hovel and then bring the papers or whatever’s in the headquarters’ stash down.” “You sure you’re OK?” “Hey, we’re the Skondia Militia GIA Minutemen Jump Infantry Battalion, remember ,” said ‘Ghost’. “Come on, Luke.” The Minutemen Trooper had to scramble to keep up with the five-seven leftenant as she strode toward the garage where the small trucks were parked. “Just that old woman up here, Chu-i,” said ‘Barbie’. “As far as the sensors can tell, no mines anywhere. And no more booby traps.” “All right. Sergeant Major Deyama is organizing a team to take material out of the headquarters. If you’re secure up there and there’s manpower available, go down and help out. I’m going to see if I can find some sort of vehicle we can use to get the material out to the Hiyro.” A fresh set of explosions in the distance shook the ground. “Sounds like we’re not the only ones having a party tonight,” said ‘Barbie’. . . . The medium hover tank parked in the garage looked like a late-2950s thirty five ton Saracen, crafted by Scarborough Limited. A pair of large ConLee 105 ICE engines sat at the stern. A thick coat of lacquer covered the pockmarked decking and armored ribs on the sides of the hover craft. Kintaro got in, steadying himself on the gunwale as the vehicle rocked back and forth on its deflated skirts. There was no question the craft had been used by the Insurgents. . .there were two Rorynex RM-3/XXI’s and an ammo locker under the seat bench on the port side, and mountings for a grenade launcher bolted just below the port window. The controls consisted of a large wheel and a throttle assembly that could be ganged to engage and work the motors together. There didn’t seem to be an ignition key; the only thing close was a simple push-button to the right of the wheel, mounted on a plastic plate that had been carefully fitted to the metal dashboard. Kintaro leaned on the button but nothing happened. He started to go back and check the engines, then saw a thick wire running along the decking up toward the dashboard. Thinking there had to be a key or some sort of ignition system, he got to his knee and craned his neck under the old panel. One strand of wire was separated, with the two ends stripped and formed into hooks. He slipped them together, then got up and tried again. The engines coughed, but didn’t catch. A small gauge on the dash indicated that there was a full tank of fuel. Kintaro guessed that he needed to choke the engines somehow, but he couldn’t find a switch or mechanism to do so. There was nothing obvious on the engine housings either; metal wire ran to them, but he couldn’t quite see where they connected. He went back and tried again; the motors coughed but still didn’t catch. The vehicle rocked unsteadily beneath him on its airless skirts. He jerked his hand out against the dashboard, grabbing a decorative knob in the middle. A swell of the wind pushed him back, and as he tried to maintain his balance by holding onto the dash, the knob came out. He’d found the choke. It took two more tries to get the motors started. Once they came to life, the vehicle heaved forward. The skirts went rigid; Kintaro backed off the power to idle, went back and cut the line. His performance wasn’t going to win him any honors in tankmanship, but at least he had the craft working. There were a pair of lights on the bow; he found the switches and saw the thin beams play over the ground as he moved away from the dock, getting a feel for the vehicle. “Hey, ‘Ghost’, this is MITCC leader. Where are you?” “About five hundred meters from the garage,” said the Skondia Militia GIA leftenant. “Roughly due north of the second landing. Very shallow here, maybe twenty feet deep. We’re working with a dune buggy from Hiyro One.” “I see you. I’m in a Saracen or something. I want to use it to bring whatever we take from the Insurgent command post out to the Hiyro. I’m heading toward you.” Kintaro throttled slowly toward the wreckage area. The windscreen of the vehicle folded forward, and he managed to lean out and work the beam down so he could sweep the ground. Debris covered the area. “Looks like we don’t have any survivors,” said ‘Ghost’, maneuvering her vehicle toward his. “I’m sorry.” “Yeah.” “Two of the Skondia Militia GIA Minutemen Platoon Troopers are certified as medics, and there’s medical equipment back on your Hiyro,” she told him. “So if you want to start a recovery. . .” “That’s going to have to wait until we check on the cave where the Teppô is,” Kintaro told her. “Maybe they can set up from the ocean side after our guys secure the land entrances. The Hiyro can support them. I want to check back in with Fulcrum Lance and see what their situation is.” One of the 5th Battalion’s second infantry company’s jump troopers came alongside and told ‘Ghost’ that they were having trouble raising their DropShip on the radio. Kintaro went onto the Razan’s Ronins circuit and tried to connect via the Axels, but also couldn’t get them. “Axels are under fire,” Tai-sa Onishi Razan said from Razan’s Ronins Command. “The ECM systems aboard the vehicles and the DropShips are degrading the radio communications. Going to be a few minutes, Kintaro.” “Maybe I ought to just take a spin out there,” Kintaro told ‘Ghost’. “I have to talk to the Lieutenant myself, and it might be quicker face-to-face.” “The Hiyro seems to be moving,” said the Minutemen Trooper in ‘Ghost’s vehicle. He pointed out to the horizon. “I hope they’re not planning on leaving us here,” said ‘Ghost’. “He’s moving pretty fast. Maybe there’s another Insurgent vehicle out there,” said ‘Ghost’. Kintaro clicked his viewer into the sitrep screen, then into the infrared view supplied by Cavalry Two, which was still orbiting overhead. Neither screen showed a threat. The Hiyro had taken a turn, grounded and was now flying directly north. “Major Casarez, this is MITCC leader.” “Go ahead, Kintaro,” said ‘Bullet’ from the DropShip Iwo Jima. “Can you contact the Hiyro due west of our operations area?” “Stand by. We’re countering a barrage of long range missiles.” “If you could give me the surface radar operator, I want to know about possible threats in the area here.” “There are no threats. ‘Dish’ will get on the line with you in a second.” “I think I want to go talk to their commanding officer right now,” Kintaro told ‘Ghost’. “And I want a couple of my Kanazuchis with me.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 29th May 3093 01:02am Local ‘Borrow’ took Cavalry One toward the Koi Nishikigoi Variant WiGE, running at the craft from the east. There were two smaller craft tracking behind it . . . Insurgent chasing it off, or at least that was what it looked like. “English, look at this screen and tell me what you see,” said ‘Borrow’, authorizing the feed from the Cavalry’s infrared. “Well, if I didn’t know any better,” the ensign replied, “I’d say it was a Koi running away from a battle. But that’s impossible.” “Why?” “For one thing, even if they had no weapons aboard, the Koi could just turn around and run over them, it weighs in at 240 metric tons,” said Ensign English. “Besides, there is no way that anyone working for Skondia Militia is going to run away from battle. The crews on those Koi’s were handpicked, especially the COs. They’ll fight to the bitter end.” “Iwo Jima, this is Living Dragon Flight leader. I have a strange situation I want to sort out. Can you reach the Koi?” “Negative,” said ‘Bullet’. “Kintaro is going out to talk to him.” “Where is Kintaro?” “Stand by.” The line clicked twice, and Kintaro Tanaka’s voice exploded in ‘Borrow’s ear. “Something’s going on with that Koi,” he said. “He’s leaving the designated mission area . . . I think he’s running from us.” “I’ll take a pass and put some shots across his bow.” “Hold on,” said ‘Bullet’. “The control mechanism for the Bullet Suicide Drone was hit in the gun battle. We’re going to have to drop another drone or we’ll lose it. Kintaro . . . can you wait five minutes, or is time critical?” “Five minutes,” repeated Kintaro. “That’s OK. Yeah, all right, we need the Teppô cave checked out, and the probe should go in ahead of my DEST Team.” “All right. Give us five minutes,” said ‘Bullet’. “Living Dragon Flight leader,” said ‘Borrow’, agreeing. WORD COUNT 2125 Like This Kintaro Tanaka Chu-i (Lieutenant) Callsign: Iceman Draconis Elite Strike Team Heavy Response Platoon Shadow Platoon DEST Section RAZAN'S RONINS Confucius reminds us that before you embark on a course of revenge dig two graves. #106 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #106] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted Today, 10:27 AM DC-RD-06-02 #106 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area on the ground 29th May 3093 00:45am Local According to the Razan’s Ronins Mercenaries Naginata’s Satellite Uplink, four flights of twenty long range missiles were coming at them. The problem was, the screens in the defensive Weapons section said there were thirty flights of twenty each. Even the combined Axels’ gun control systems couldn’t take them all out. “Target the first wave,” said Major Jeffrey 'Tiger' Kochel. “You’re going to have to trust what Iwo Jima tells you,” said Kam Ogunleye, standing up from her station. “They can use the infrared sensors and you can manually override the system to target the missiles flights one by one.” “You’re damn sassy for a DropShip technician.” “And for someone who’s smart, you can be a real asshole.” Overcome with anger, ‘Tiger’ nearly grabbed her. “You know I’m right,” she added. She was, wasn’t she? “Do it!” ‘Tiger’ said. “Do what Ogunleye says. Get the Iwo Jima people to ID each missile flight as it’s incoming, and manually take it out. ‘Eyes’? ‘Weapons’? ‘Peanut’?” “Aye, Major, we’re on it.” “I was wrong,” he said. “And she’s right.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 29th May 3093 00:50am Local The Apostle guided his hand and the enemy devil fell to the deck, blood gurgling from his mouth. Sakamoto spun around, following the other man, who was running through the hatch to the left. The man tripped and Sakamoto leaped over him, running forward. . .there were two other men nearby, one with a gun at his belt. Sakamoto slashed at him, striking so hard that his knife lodged deep in the man’s midsection. They fell together, crumpling against a table. The space filled with Sakamoto’s men. Sakamoto saw a sidearm and grabbed for it; the man began to fight back, and his companion came to his aid. But The Apostle was on the side of the true believers. . .Sakamoto felt his strength moving in his arms, and he wrestled the pistol from the holster. Before he could use it, however, the man fell back, limp; the blood he’d lost had robbed him of fight. “General! The bridge is this way!” shouted one of his men. Sakamoto jumped up. There were now so many of his men aboard that he had trouble squeezing onto the bridge. Two Living Dragon Marines lay at the side, one with his neck twisted at a grotesque angle. Sakamoto stepped forward and shot him once in the head, even though he was clearly dead. He used two bullets on the other man, whose body continued to jerk for several long seconds after the final shot. The 240 ton, Koi WiGE’s commander stood near the yoke, pinned by four of Sakamoto’s men. “You. . .show me the WiGE,” said Sakamoto, using his very limited English. “I will die first.” Sakamoto raised the pistol to the man’s head. “The WiGE.” The man spit at him. Sakamoto pulled the trigger. The bullet sped through the man’s skull and lodged in the glass of the bridge behind him. “Throw them overboard. Quickly, search the rest of the vehicle,” said Sakamoto. “Find the Weapons lockers.” Sakamoto scanned the bridge. The basic controls were here. Moving the Koi would not be difficult. But the displays and sensors and, most important, the Weapons would take considerable amount of study. Even with his experience, Sakamoto doubted he could master them. But The Apostle would help, surely. He had given them the vehicle. “General, we have the vehicle,” said Saed, taking him by the elbow. Sakamoto was surprised to find his Colonel here. “I had not realized you were here.” “Until the end. There are fifteen of us, and yourself.” “Take the helm. Where is Habib?” “Outside.” “Someone find Habib,” said Sakamoto. “We need his computer skills.” . . . “This is a passive infrared receiving system. It shows heat sources in front of the Koi,” said Habib. “This is an active radar, which is very limited, not much more powerful than ours. This screen, though, this gets inputs from some other source. I can’t tell whether it’s aboard this ship or not.” Sakamoto studied the suite of screens. If he was reading the legends correctly. . .which might not be the case. . .the external radar had a seventy-mile radius. Rather than putting this vessel in the center of the plot, it seemed to position it far off to the side. It seemed to him that Living Dragon had found some way to transmit radar information from another source. . .The Mercenaries, he guessed. This would explain why they had never seen radar signals from the large assault craft themselves. “This looks like a radar plot too, but I don’t see how that can be,” added Habib, pointing to a large screen near the center of the console. “It has different modes, but what they mean is not clear.” “This is our ship,” said Sakamoto, pointing to a set of blue letters at the lower left of the screen. “That. . .that at the center. . .is the source of the information. Flip back to the first screen you started with.” Habib did so. It was some sort of scale. “The buttons below the screen change the scale; the ones at the right, they have something to do with the detection modes,” said Sakamoto. “Go to the longest plot. . .the small scale. There!” He pointed to the top of the screen. “That is the Galaport Tug. That’s our target.” It wasn’t clear from the screen what the distance was, but Sakamoto guessed it was less than eighty miles. “Helm, come five degrees to port,” he told Saed. “And then get as much from the engines as you can. Habib, you have done a good job. Now determine how to use the Weapons systems.” He put his hand on his Colonel’s shoulder. “The Apostle is with us. He will help you see.” Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area on the ground 29th May 3093 00:52am Local Kam cringed as the Axel’s ECM system began wailing. The fact that the electronic counter measure was screeching meant that the missiles they had launched at the LRMs had missed, despite the Iwo Jima’s help. “Strike!” said the defensive systems operator over the shared communication channel. The gun swirled and began firing again; it stopped abruptly, the operator realizing belatedly that the system had fired at a shadow. “We’re losing track of the inputs!” the sailor said. “Do your best,” said ‘Tiger’ calmly. “Fire at whatever you have.” “I can help,” said ‘Berlin’, placing Cavalry Two in a hover mode where the VTOL was, about a thousand kilometers west of Hover Lance. “The Cavalry’s infrared sensors will show the missile.” “I can’t safe it down to let you in,” said the system officer. “No, I’ll use Cavalry One,” piped in Lieutenant Normore, already punching into the controls for the VTOL, which had just been secured for refueling when the missile attack began. “Clear the deck! Clear the deck!” Someone shouted at him over the radio, but he couldn’t tell whether it was an acknowledgment or a warning. “Clear the deck!” he repeated. “I’m launching!” “Do what he says,” snapped ‘Eyes’. He switched to a private channel. “I trust you, but what the hell are you doing?” “I can hover just above the center of the Axel’s formation and use the sensors to help sort the missiles,” ‘Berlin’ explained. The ECM rattled; he revved the counter rotating blades above the Cavalry’s body to life. “The Axel’s will shoot you down.” “No, not if I stay right above the center of your formation. As far as they’re concerned, the Cavalry is part of your sensor net.” He had to override the computer to take off, since the VTOL had hardly any fuel left. It rose off the deck slowly, buffeted by the wind. “I need my lights on to where I can see them,” he told ‘Eyes’. “I’m going to put the VTOL plot there and look at the radar on the main screen. Come on! Get it!” ‘Eyes’ pulled the noteputer, which was already open, around so he could see it. “Hold it for me,” he said, his fingers crashing on the keyboard. “Just hold it.” “All right.” “Your contact M3 . . . it’s real,” said ‘Berlin’, his head swiveling back and forth from the screens. “M4 . . . shit, no, M5! M5 is real. M5!” “Missiles in the air!” “M3 and M5.” The Axel’s ECMs rattled so harshly that the 65 ton heavy tank’s treads seemed to sink low into the ground, if that was even possible. An explosion shook Axel three . . . there were shouts and screams. “M8! M8!” yelled ‘Berlin’. “Got it!” “M19!” The rattle intensified, then stopped. In the silent moment, Axel Three rose at the glacis plate and ‘Berlin’ felt himself thrown forward against the console. As he rebounded in his flight chair, he heard the warhead explode toward the rear of the formation. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Mission Area in the Air 29th May 3093 00:55am Local “A flight of missiles struck Fulcrum Three,” said ‘Dish’. Major Dulce ‘Bullet’ Casarez didn’t reply. He had just heard from Renn that everyone aboard the Indomitable was fine. Though heavily damaged, she thought the DropShip would make it to Starpad. It was a good distance away. But Jalut International, the most logical place to land, was out of bounds, and as Renn had argued, if the DropShip could make it as far as the border, it would make it to Starpad as well. Of course, by that logic, if it stayed in the air another ten seconds, it would fly for the rest of the week. She’d volunteered to try Platinum City, but he ruled that out. ‘Bullet’ hooked into MITCC Command and told them he wanted to arrange a landing in Starpad. Staff Sergeant Brenton Alexander switched him over to Chu-i (Lieutenent) Karen Tsang, who was up at this hour in the Daimyo Mobile HQ. Karen’s face came up on the screen, a little pastier than normal. “Chu-i, we need an emergency landing in Starpad.” “I heard, Major. The request has already been made and approved.” “Thanks.” “Good luck.” Shujin (Master Sergeant)Tuan Nguyen who was behind Maia started to say something, but the Chu-i (Lieutenent) cut the connection. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Outside the Enemy Training Base 29th May 3093 01:02am Local The first report was not good. Several missiles had hit the rear area of the Fulcrum, igniting the fuel there. The next report was worse. A secondary explosion had ripped through part of the hull. They were taking on water and had to shut off part of the structural integrity, even though the tank commander and the driver were still inside. Most likely the men were dead, but there was no way to know. Fulcrum Three listed toward starboard two or three degrees, and her bow had started to lift. Chu-i Reece 'Buhdda's Fist' Kimura saw from the damage control graphic on the multi-function display hologram from his Narukami Heavy Tank, that a hatch to the compartment remained open. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, picturing the gunner there, then moved forward to his Narukami’s communication console. He punched the code, but rather than the senior corporal he expected to pick up, he found himself talking to a young private, Tommy Hall. He knew Hall a little better than the tanker would have wished . . . two days before they had mustered out, the tank loader private first class had been brought before him for discipline for conduct unbecoming on a Draconis Combine forward base. “Tommy, I need you to get to the senior corporal and initiate the emergency response protocol,” 'Buhdda's Fist' told him. “He’s out of communication. Direct him to dog the hatch there, son. If he is not in sight, you have to do it yourself. You need to secure it, and you need to do it right now.” “Sir, there’s water in the crew compartment here, a foot of water.” 'Buhdda's Fist' realized the situation was worse than he’d thought. “Yes, I understand,” he said calmly. “Go and dog the hatch while it can still be closed.” “I’m going to try, sir.” “No, son, you’re going to do it. I know you’re going to do it, because I’m counting on you. You’re going to close that hatch and you’re going to save your vehicle.” There was no answer. 'Buhdda's Fist' watch the hovercraft lurch; the list was getting worse. A firefighting indicator reported that it was tackling a fire behind the main exhaust. The lights flickered, but came back on strong. 'Buhdda's Fist' looked at the hologram. If the private didn’t close off the compartment, the fuel ballast tanks and main Strand 265 XL fusion power plant would be flooded. The damage done by the missiles and the secondary explosion made it impossible to seal those compartments directly. If he were the private, would he close the hatch, knowing his friends were inside? Even if he were sure they were dead? Even if he knew his own life depended on it? 'Buhdda's Fist' resisted the temptation to order his remaining Trireme to turn around and run out over the water to board the sinking Allied Fulcrum and secure the hatch for the Private. Their place was here, and besides, he knew they’d never make it in time. The Private first class helped the injured non commissioned officer out of his harness into a small space used as an ammo bin for the extended long range missile stores aboard the Fulcrum. The corpsman checked the bandage he had used to stanch the bleeding from his senior corporal’s neck. “You did a good job, Hall,” said the corporal, getting up. “Sit Rep, Tommy?” “I don’t know,” said the private honestly. “If we abandon the vehicle, I just don’t know.” “Are we abandoning the vehicle?” The private winced. “We’ve been hit pretty bad, and we’re taking on water. But it’s the Hover CO’s decision.” . . . The voice was weak and punctuated by sobs. “I heard screaming,” it said. “Did you secure the hatch?” “Yes, sir.” “Good work, Tommy. Secure the door to the compartment. Tighten it down, and get up to the driver’s cupola.” “But . . . ” “I need you up there right away,” added 'Buhdda's Fist'. “Can you get up there?” “I’ll try, sir.” “No, son, you’re going up there now because I need you, and because you’re going to help save your vehicle. You’re going to get there and save some lives.” “Yes, sir, I am,” said the young man, just firmly enough to convince 'Buhdda's Fist' that he would. He glanced at the hologram, but already sensed that the hovercraft had stopped settling. They were going to make it . . . but there was a hell of a lot of work to do. Word Count 2588 Name: Reece Kimura Callsign: 'Buhdda's Fist'' Rank: Chu-i Hardware: Narukami Heavy Tank Company: Steel Dragon Lance: Dragon Scale Lance Unit: Razan's Ronins HOUSE: DRACONIS COMBINE Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #107 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #107] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted Today, 12:20 PM DC-RD-06-02 #107 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronin Bivouac Daimyo Mobile HQ 22nd September 3093 20:45pm Local That night, four months ago, that had been the ever elusive General Sathen Sakamoto aboard the Koi Nishikigoi Variant WiGE slipping away from the battle in the confusion. For the next four months frustrated Razan’s Ronins Intel Operatives performed a planet wide sweep for the Free Skondia Mutineer General, Sathen Sakamoto. He had managed to escape in battle aftermath confusion the noose the Ronin’s were tightening around the slippery General neck over four month ago at his hidden training facility complex. Onishi Razan’s Intel Operatives had found irrefutable evidence that he had been aboard Koi that had slipped through their fingers by crossing the bay via a large 240 ton WiGE. They had found it crashed from a lack of fuel in a cove off the northern coast of Desmasques. They had obtained DNA evidence and it had returned a match. They had triangulated hyper pulse generator signals via Onishi’s Naginata’s Satellite UpLink and their Daimyo mobile HQ, and after a thousand twenty five man hours spent monitoring the airways, they had finally gotten a break. The General was scheduled to lift off world at a little obscure Airport in Demasques tonight at 2300 hours. Tai-sa (Major) Onishi Razan refused to risk another missed opportunity to capture or neutralize the General so she was heading up this operation herself from the cockpit of her Naginata. ……………….. Chui (Lieutenant) Karen Tsang’s voice usually hit a higher octave when she was excited, and she was excited now. “Living Dragon embassy says they know of no operation,” she told Chu-i (Lieutenant) Reece ‘Bhudda’s Fist’ Kimura who even though technically he was no longer the XO, Chu-i John ‘Shadeslayer’ Mendez was, however he had not come up to speed yet. “Do this,” said Chu-i Kimura calmly. “Tell them that my fighters have two aerospace fighters in their sights. They will shoot them down if they are not Living Dragon aircraft. Give them their location.” Before Karen could acknowledge, the pilot in Suzaku One, Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Gerard Bahnken broke into the line. “ ‘Bhudda’s Fist’, the convoy is approaching the gates to the Airport. They’re a kilometer away. Very light traffic at the moment. Militia still haven’t responded your way.” Reece turned to his Narukami Heavy Tank’s communications Gunsho (Lance Corporal), Anita Yang. “Tell the Tai-sa’s task force the caravans are a klick away.” “Living Dragon aerospace fighters have turned into an orbit,” added Suzaku Ones Gunner, Mayank Chadha. “Some sort of holding pattern just offshore. In Desmasques airspace, but apparently undetected by the radar. No radio signals from them that we can detect.” “I have Tai-sa Razan on the line,” said Karen. “Onishi, the Living Dragon . . .” “I heard. Karen, put me through to the embassy.” “Yes, ma’am.” Reece heard Onishi tell the Living Dragon . . . a duty officer for their Defense Force . . . that he had exactly five seconds to acknowledge that the aircraft were his, or they would be shot down as a threat to the Razan’s Ronin’s operation. “Yes, sir.” “Yes, they’re yours?” “Yes sir.” “Thank you,” said Onishi. “Karen, get me Chu-i Tanaka. Chu-i Tsang, please pass the word that the aerospace fighters are friendly. As long as they don’t interfere, they should be permitted to proceed.” “Thank you.” “At the gate,” said the Suzaku pilot, referring to the cars that made up the snaking convoy. “Here we go,” said Reece. As the words left his mouth, an explosion rocked the western end of the Airport near the entrance. It was followed by a larger explosion and then two more. The ground under Reece shook as badly as if he were in the middle of an earthquake. “What was that?” asked someone on the shared radio channel. “Our target,” said Reece, even though he wasn’t close enough to see. Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Demasques Forward Field Command Post 22nd September 3093 22:00pm Local “There’s been an explosion outside the Airport at Demasques,” Chu-i Karen Tsang transmitted to Onishi aboard her Naginata from the Daimyo Mobile HQ. “I’m looking at an image of it now. Several vehicles have been destroyed. It looks like there may have been a large truck bomb near the vehicles.” “Was it the convoy we were targeting?” “I believe so, yes.” “Give me Chu-i Kimura,” said Onishi. “Uh . . . ” “Now.” The line clicked. “What’s going on?” Onishi demanded. “We’re working it out. We don’t know, exactly.” “Did we do this?” asked Onishi. “No.” “Where’s Chu-i Tanaka?” Reece hesitated, but then said that Kintaro and the other members of the DEST Team who had gone into the city to rescue Ionela were still at the hotel. Ionela had been captured by Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgent’s after her cover had been blown while getting ‘close’ to General Sathen Sakamoto. “They’re still there?” Onishi asked. “I’m trying to figure it out. This is all happening right as we speak and . . . ” “Connect me to Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Chano Fuqua.” “With all due respect . . . ” “Do it, Reece!” Once again the line clicked. The connection now had a slight buzz of static, and there were background sounds. “Tai-sa?” Chano sounded subdued. “What’s the situation?” “All of the vehicles in the caravan were destroyed. Sathen Sakamoto appears to have been among them. There were no survivors.” “You’re sure? This isn’t a trick?” “It isn’t a trick. We had that crazy bitch Cinderella Krall check all of the vehicles.” She let Chano's color description of his Command Squad Team member slide, “It had to be the Internal Security Force,” said Onishi. “Wouldn’t be a bad guess,” said Chano. “The Free Skondia Mutineers Forces have responded from their part of the base, and I’ve been told by Suzaku One to expect the local militia. We’re going to get out. My men are boarding the Tempest Fury as we speak.” “What about Tanaka?” asked Onishi. “Our contingency plan called for them to find another way out. I think it would be safer for them to stay away from the Airport at this time.” “What happened to those two Living Dragon aerospace fighters? Were they involved?” “The last I checked, they were still offshore. Ma'am, at the moment . . . ” Chano began. “Yeah, yeah. I realize you have a lot to do. Please proceed.” “Over and out.” Onishi leaned back into the seat of her command couch and ordered her lance of assault class 'Mechs to safe their weapons and to take up a defensive formation. It had to be the ISF. Or Tanaka. Certainly it had been the ISF. What if they had infiltrated the Living Dragon embassy and it was them who had aerospace fighters offshore, a deeply covered agent in the city, … So why was she so mad at ‘Iceman’? Word Count 1181 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #108 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #108] Murasaki Sho-I (Naval Lieutenant) Razan's Ronins 611 posts 0 warning points LocationAshio IV Posted Today, 02:11 PM DC-RD-06-02 #108 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City District 12 30th July 3093 18:30pm Local While the time and place of the meal had been agreed upon well in advance, Sho-i (Ensign) Torii ‘Nemesis’ Nashiro knew from years of experience that Gunsho (Sergeant) Charlene Leconte would, as was her fashion, arrive later then what was agreed and with as much fanfare as possible. Thus when Charlene did finally appear loaded down with all manner of bags and boxes, Nashiro paid little mind and motioned her friend to take her seat as she continued to enjoy the meals first course. “You would not believe the day I had.” Charlene announced loudly as she settled into her seat arranging her purchases in some semblance of order at her feet. “You went shopping...” Nashiro noted in a sarcastic tone. “What’s not to believe?” Charlene frowned briefly the hint of annoyance touching her features for a brief moment. “That’s not the point Torii, and besides I wasn’t just shopping I was doing other things.” “Riot Dutys, Political espionage, Intelligence gathering ... something more interesting?” Nashiro listed off. Charlene sighed softly. “Nothing so interesting as that. ”She mused softly reaching into her purse. “Of late I seem to be playing interplanetary delivery girl.“ Charlene commented pushing the clear sealed bundle across the table.” peaking of which this arrived for you today.” Nashiro paused glancing up questioningly from her meal. “I didn’t know you knew it was my birthday?” Charlene shrugged as she seated herself. “You already got your birthday present. The package however came via official channels addressed to you.” “The Combine doesn’t maintain official channels to or from Skondia? It’s host to a loyal Draconis Combine unit and last I heard all official diplomatic channels were suspended until further notice.” Nashiro commented collecting her napkin from beside her plate and dabbing it on the corners of her mouth refusing to do more than glance at the bundle. “Knowing my luck if I touch that I’ll get busted by Internal Security Force as an enemy agent and spend the next five years answering rather personal questions while I get probed in rather sensitive spots.” Charlene offered a knowing smile as she eyed her plate reached for the utensils. “I’m hurt Torii, You don’t trust me anymore?” “Charlene, we have been friends since the first day at the Academy, I’ve held your hand through every break-up and broken-heart you’ve ever had. We might sleep together from time to time, but you seem to forget that I know who you work for.” Nashiro stated plainly. ”I’d have to be the biggest fool in whole of the Inner Sphere to simply trust you.” “And that my love is why we are and will always remain to be such good friends.” Charlene laughed aloud nodding her agreement. “That said, I was told that this was of the highest importance and would require more than just my word as proof.” Drawing the small folded paper from her pocket, Charlene cleared her throat and read aloud. “I hear and I forget, I see and I remember, I do and I understand.” Nashiro paused, sighing softly as she set her utensil aside before finally collecting the bundle and breaking the seal. Frowning her annoyance, Charlene stared at the message a moment longer before then lowering the end of the small paper into the flame of the table’s candles and watched it burn before dropping the spent ashes into the ashtray. “So what does it mean?“ Nashiro shrugged as she read quickly through the initial pages before returning them to the bundle and setting it aside once more. “The passage is an old Buddhist saying, what it means; however, is that my father views the matter as one of family honor to be carried out without question.“ “And ...“ Nashiro paused for a moment before speaking. “ ‘And what?’ “ “And what is this matter of family honor that’s so important that is requires the use of ISF courier channels?” Nashiro remained silent for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “The Coordinator has declared a Vendetta, and being unable to carry out the deed himself, has passed the obligation on to my family, naming me as his proxy to ensure that the balance of his honor is restored.“ Charlene reflected for a moment absorbing what had just been revealed, before a puzzled expression became fixed on her features and she at last spoke her mind aloud. “That makes no sense, the rules of Vendetta are quite clear on the matter of it being a contest to address and resolve and imbalance of honor. For one you’re a woman and two no one is of a rank equal to that of the Coordinator, by virtue of status he is above Vendettas and can simply order the offending party be put to death.“ She paused then for a moment thinking. “ ... Can’t he?” “What part of ‘without question’ don’t you get?” Nashiro stated in annoyance. “I was born in the year of the cat, Humor me.” Charlene countered with a quick false smile. “Besides, you’re the one who has to do it without question. I am held to no such oath ... I can ask all the questions I want.” “You already know too much ...“ Nashiro noted aloud. Charlene smirked. “Then a little more can’t hurt, can it?“ “Fine! Do you remember the scandal involving that Arkab courtesan that was murdered a few years back.“ Nashiro stated as she collected her glass from the table. “I remember ... The official report that was released, stated that she had been kidnapped and murdered by parties unknown.“ Charlene nodded uncertain as she recalled the event from memory. Nashiro nodded. “Her name was Meeja Hazari, I remember her because she was an artisan of some skill being both an accomplished dancer and stage performer. She was well known in the circles that my mother frequented and was a subject of some envy as I recall given that she was also the Coordinators most recent mistress at the time.“ Nashiro paused looking at her plate. “At first there were all manner of rumors that the Coordinator’s wife had ordered the girl assassinated out of jealousy or revenge for some slight but in the end it was the manner of Meeja’s death that revealed that it had been an honor killing typical of the Arkab. You see the killers hadn’t simply killed her ... She had been raped and tortured before they at last poured acid on her face and when that failed to kill her quickly enough she was beheaded.” Charlene covered her mouth with her cloth as she attempted to swallow her food. “How barbaric. Even for Kuritans.“ Nashiro shrugged. “The Arkab are a fairly passionate people when it comes to matters of both personal and family honor. They tend to act out in more extreme manners when the perceived slight is from a woman. The practice of disfiguring with acid itself was adopted countless centuries ago when the original cultural group was still on Terra and while officially outlawed on many of the more advanced worlds. It remains a common form or retaliation.” Charlene nodded. “I do remember you mentioning it before, during your first assignment out of the Academy. You were stationed on one of the Arkab worlds. Can we assume then that you have ...“ Nashiro shook her head. “No, Not me ... I’m fortunate in that most Arkab males native to the Combine would not dare approach me in fear of insulting my father or elder brothers. I have; however, been witness to the act a time or two. As it happens a member of the enlisted ranks, under my charge, was unfortunate enough to be the victim of such an act after having refused the repeated advances of a would-be suitor.” Charlene again shook her head in disgust. “No doubt the bastard should have been shot.“ Nashiro shook her head. “It wasn’t the suitor who was at fault in this case. His intentions were honorable, in and of themselves, and the girl’s refusal was not because she was not interested in the young man.“ Nashiro sighed softly. “As it happened, it was her uncle and two of her cousins who performed the deed having assumed that the young man’s insistence in courtship was proof enough that there had been some kind of indiscretion on the part of the girl. The poor thing had never even suspected the trap when her Uncle had shown up that day with news that her father had been in a terrible accident and had but a short time to live. The girl simply walked unknowingly to her death at the hands of those whom were her own blood.“ Charlene nodded saying nothing. “I was young and clueless at the time.” Nashiro stated simply. “Even afterwards, when the evidence had been collected and the confessions to the crime extracted by the ISF liaisons officer. I still could not bring myself to believe what had happened.” Charlene again nodded. “The matter was settled then?“ Nashiro nodded. “It was determined that all but the girl’s mother and her two younger sisters had known about what was going to happen ahead of time. The honor of the Admiralty however, had been stained and I gave the order to execute all twenty-eight remaining members of the family for conspiracy and treason against the Combine. The task of putting a bullet in the head of that girl’s father fell to me, given that she was one of my staff.” “And how does that apply to the matter of this Vendetta?” Charlene inquired. “A simple thing really, You see in the end, the ISF had determined that Meeja Hazari’s rape and murder had been carried out by her younger brother Sayeff Hazari at the order of their father, who viewed the liaison between Meeja and the Coordinator as a slight to his family’s honor rather than the honor that it was. That said, the father and other members of the conspiracy to murder Meeja, had been captured and executed publically but the family proved connected enough and the son somehow managed to escape the Coordinator’s will at least until recently.” Nashiro paused then considering her words. “It appears that some agents from the Draconis Combine somehow managed to collect samples of genetic trace material from one of Sakamoto’s prior operational centers and initiated a trace that lead them back to Sayeff Hazari. Thus the answer to the why of recent events ... Put simply It appears that Sakamoto and his supporters have knowingly or unknowingly been hiding Sayeff all this time, and that is an insult to the honor of both the Combine and the Coordinator appears to not be inclined let the matter stand unaddressed.“ “It still doesn’t answer my question.” Charlene countered softly turning her attentions again to her meal. “You see after Meeja’s death she was interned in state and afforded the singular honor of being recognized as one of the Coordinator’s wives in death. By virtue of this act the Coordinator has thus assumed the mantel of guardianship of Meeja’s honor and thus the Vendetta against her brother is no longer an issue of the Coordinator verses some commoner. This is a matter of blood, and I - through the rules of obligation of my house - have become the Coordinator’s proxy in carrying out that Vendetta to restore the balance of honor.“ Charlene looked on thoughtfully for a moment. “Seems a great deal of trouble to simply kill someone.” Nashiro nodded her agreement. “You misunderstand. If it was simply a matter of wanting Sayeff dead the Coordinator has countless means of achieving that end. He could simply employ assassins or order Khazaad to have the man killed. In this case however; the Coordinator doesn’t want Sayeff to simply die by decreeing this Vendetta, the Coordinator demands a karmic balance of the scales. He doesn’t simply want me to kill Sayeff ... His want is that I ensure that Sayeff suffers every horror he inflicted upon his sister.” Word Count: 2,054 Like This Torii "Nemesis" Nashiro Flying Dragon Wing Dragon "Flight Lead" Assigned Craft: Koroshiya KOS-1A "Hammer" ~ RAZANS RONINS ~ "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume." ~ Romeo & Juliet " Violence is one of the most fun things to watch." ~ Quentin Tarantino #109 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #109] Oni Tai-sa (Major) Razan's Ronins 348 posts 0 warning points Posted Today, 03:01 PM DC-RD-06-02 #109 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronin Bivouac Union Class DropShip The Black Ronin Sho-i Yee’s Quarters 22nd September 3093 23:15pm Local Late in the evening after the battle, the Tai-sa (Major) of Razan’s Ronins and her ‘Lame-Duck’ Executive Officer, Chu-i Reece Kimura, sat talking over dinner in the Sho-i’s (Ensign) stateroom near the bridge where Reece spent most of his ‘quiet’ time. The meal, and the venue, had been his idea. Onishi Razan had gone directly from the brutal stress of an all-day pitched battle to an equally brutal onslaught of Skondia Militia’ Major Rokuhara Maaka and the New Home’s Lieutenant General, LaFayette Hughes, public gratitude, with scarcely a chance to shower and change into a dress uniform, and she had clearly found the experience harrowing. The Skondia Militia GIA Battlemech corps were no respecters of personal boundaries, and extravagant public praise from LaFayette Hughes had clearly done little to wipe out Onishi’s earlier, private grievances. Reece had watched the Commanding Officer of Razan’s Ronin’s give her third in-depth personal account in a row with unflagging courtesy and smiling charm, and had decided that a rescue mission was in order. He wondered where in the devil was her new XO, John Mendez. He’d exercised his authority as a Chu-i to break up the conference on the grounds that the Tai-sa’s presence was urgently required within, and had taken her away, going into the depths of the Union-class DropShip and even farther again through an inconspicuous service door. From there he brought her by circuitous ways to his quiet spot, where the proprietor neither knew nor cared that the middle-aged offworld gentleman who dined there regularly was her ex-Executive Officer of the Razan’s Ronin’s. Reece could tell even before they arrived in the Sho-i’s stateroom that he had made the right choice. Onishi Razan said little until they were seated discreetly at the table not visible from the portal. Perhaps, Reece reflected, the Sho-i knew she had guests, after all. Then the tension that had held her together on the field seemed to break all at once like a cut string, leaving her seeming much more tired, much younger, and much less self-assured. “Thanks for getting me out of there,” she said. “One more stupid question, and I would have cracked . . . and the way I feel right now, they’re all stupid questions.” “Sleep and a good meal will help,” he promised. “Will it make the Skondia Militia GIA accounts any brighter? Will it make the Lieutenant General . . . ” She stopped and closed her mouth tightly. After a moment, she picked up her dinner roll and began breaking it apart into small, even pieces. Her hands were trembling. “Maybe I need retire to my off world quarters and go to bed right now. Except I can’t . . . we blew it up, you know, so that the Free Skondia Mutineers Insurgents wouldn’t think me dead.” The fate of the Razan’s Bivouac had been included in Onishi Razan’s original detailed report to the Lieutenant General: a bare, concise statement, stripped clean of emotional resonance. Reece was distressed with himself now for taking it at face value. He had thought of the building as a simple building only, never realizing that it had also been the home of someone’s heart. “I’m sorry,” he said. He continued, gently, “I know that food and rest don’t help with everything . . . but in the morning, not everybody will be stupid.” Onishi Razan gave a shaky laugh. “I’ll take whatever improvement I can get.” Dinner arrived . . . roast beef with horseradish and small new potatoes steamed in their jackets . . . simple food but filling, and well-prepared by his Inner Sphere class chef, Ng Xingqi. Reece was pleased to see that Onishi, after taking a few tentative mouthfuls, attacked everything with a good appetite. Mary Widows . . . an observant apprentice, and the Sho-i had to know more about her guests that she was letting on . . . was assiduous in keeping Onishi’s water glass brimming full no matter how often she emptied it. An all-day battle could leave even the hardiest of MechWarriors in a state of borderline dehydration. By the time the meal had reached its end . . . a dessert of pears simmered in red wine and flavored with cinnamon . . . Onishi Razan had relaxed enough to talk. “I meant what I said about going home, though,” she said, when the conversation came around again to post battle events. “I know that a lot of people seem to want me to stay here.” “You’re a celebrity,” he said doing air quotes. “At least temporarily. You exposed a traitor and you saved Skondia from the ravishes of the United Leadership of the Tikonov Republican Army.” “I didn’t expose anyone,” she insisted. “All I did was have the bad luck to be standing in the way when the truth came out. And as for saving Skondia . . . every man and woman in the Razan’s Ronin’s did as much as I did, and gave as much as I did. Some of them gave everything, and there’s nothing the Draconis Combine or anyone else can do to give it back.” “I know,” Reece said. He had discovered that bitter truth himself, after the War of Benjamin, and had taken a long time to come to terms with it. “But it’s you that everyone associates with those things. Whether you like it or not, that gives you a great deal of power at the present moment.” Onishi shook her head and made a pushing-away gesture with one hand. “I don’t want power on Skondia. Razan’s Ronin’s is a big enough problem . . . the economy is shaky, the main DropPort and most of the capital are going to have to be rebuilt from the ground up, and someone still has to provide defense for Skondia. I don’t know where the money for all of it is going to come from, either. You can’t tax people if they don’t have anything left.” She gave a tired sigh. “I swear, fighting Free Skondia Mutineers is already starting to look easy by comparison.” That question at least, Reece thought, was one that he had an answer for. “I wouldn’t worry too much,” he told her. “I expect that the Draconis Combine and the Lieutenant General will be happy to express the thanks of a grateful Living Dragon in the form of an appropriate recovery aid package.” “Especially if it goes back to Skondia with it?” “Your departure will free them of an inconvenient reminder that Director Generals can be mistaken in their judgments, and that Mercenary Offiocers are not incorruptible.” “Gratitude at a safe distance,” she said. “I can live with that.” Reece reminded himself that Onishi Razan had grown up around politics, and that not liking a game didn’t necessarily imply ignorance about how it was played. Less fearful now of her possible disillusionment, he said, “There’s a chance that some people may want to show their gratitude with more than aid packages.” “What do you mean?” “With the Draconis Combine Ambassador Tomoe Katsuie . . . gone . . . there are only four Ambassadors remaining. And you are the heroine of the hour.” Her shoulders stiffened. She met his gaze, her verdant green eyes clear and more than a little angry. “I’ll tell you right now, If they ask, the answer is no. It would be a slap in the face to every Tai-sho (General).. in the Draconis Combine who has a right to be considered, and it would be an insult to me, as well. I am the Tai-sa of the Razan’s Ronin’s Mercenary Battalion, and House Kurita does not need to buy my loyalty with another title.” “I doubt that anyone would think they did.” “Maybe not,” she conceded, relaxing a little, but still looking dubious. “But even if they do it out of sheer goodwill and the kindness of their hearts, it would be stupid. I’m a decent administrator and a fair-to-middling field commander, and a Tai-sa’s position is about all I can handle.” She grinned at him suddenly. “Ask me again in fifteen years or so, Chu-i Kimura . . . maybe then I’ll say yes.” Word Count 1426 Like This Name: Onishi Razan Callsign: 'Rough Ryder' Rank: Tai-sa (Major) 'Mech: Naginata NG-OR1 (Custom) Lance: Fire Dragon Company: Ronin Legion Unit: Razan's Ronins Role: Mercenary Unit Commanding Officer AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA #110 [IC Skondia DC-RD-06-02 - Riot Duty: post #110] MyKayla Sho-ka (Sergeant Major) Razan's Ronins 541 posts 0 warning points Posted Today, 03:53 PM DC-RD-06-02 #110 Contested Region Draconis Combine Skondia Steen Bangalore Platinum City SpacePort Razan’s Ronin Bivouac Union Class DropShip Mess Hall 23rd September 3093 13:15pm Local The day after the great battle, David Shiri was back at the table in the Gunsho’s (Sergeant) Mess, writing another letter home. Dear Mother . . . [he wrote] By the time this reaches you, everyone on Pesht will probably know that our Tai-sa has done it again, and beaten Free Skondia Mutineers in a big battle here in the edge of Marik Space. My friends and I are well; all we had to do this time was keep our heads down and let the tanks and BattleMechs do the hard work. Ionela Bretan came up to the table with a mug of tea and a sandwich and sat down next to him. She glanced over at the letter and shook her head. “Oh, Dave, Dave. Didn’t they ever tell you that lying was a sin?” “She’s my mother,” he said. “Do you think I’m going to tell her what it was really like?” “You’ve got a point there.” Ionela took a bite of her sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “She’d just get after you to leave the infantry and come back home.” “I could do that, you know. When this campaign is up.” “Are you going to?” “I don’t know yet,” David said. “I’m thinking about it.” The question was one that had been occupying his mind off and on for some time now . . . ever since the dinner in Canube with his sister and her family, if not before. Sometimes, he missed the mountains of his home world with an almost physical pain, and there were days when the constant press and presence of his fellow soldiers was enough to make his head hurt. At times like that, all he wanted out of life was to be alone somewhere above the timberline in Red Ledge Pass, with snow on the ground and a clean wind blowing. But he wasn’t certain he could feel the peace there like he used to. He was a different person now, in too many ways. He set the problem aside and turned back to his letter. You’ll be happy to know that we won’t have to worry about the Free Skondia Mutineers Free Skondia Mutineers again for a long time. General Sathen Sakamoto was slain near the end of the battle, and that took the heart right out of them. When our Tai-sa offered them the chance to get aboard their DropShips and go home for good, they took it. He didn’t really believe that ULTYRA was going to stay defeated for all that long. After fighting against them and their armies in this last campaign, David knew better than that. The remnants of FSM would go home to where ever they could rebuild themselves, yes, but as soon as they were patched up and back in fighting trim, they’d have their Division out making trouble somewhere. The Dai-i of Pesht apparently agreed with him. He’d already announced that there was going to be another big recruitment drive back home on Pesht, with promotions and reenlistment bonuses for any experienced troopers who chose to stay in. That was something else David hadn’t told his mother yet. He was still trying to think of what to write next . . . something about the fight between Kintaro Tanaka and Saed, he thought; Fumi’s children would think it was exciting, and his mother would be happy because he wasn’t anywhere in it . . . when Jimmy Pane entered the mess. “What’s the news of the day?” Jimmy asked, coming over to join David and Ionela. “Our David here is telling his mother all about the great battle, and how we brought a picnic basket and watched it from the sidelines.” “I told you,” said David. “She’s my mother. She gets upset about things.” Jimmy nodded in understanding. “David’s right. You don’t want to worry your mother.” Ionela looked from one of them to the other. “The two of you are a pair, do you know that?” “Aye,” said Jimmy. “But you love us.” David let them tease at each other, and went back to his letter. I don’t know what stories you may have heard about the Chu-i that came to help us on Benjamin last year . . . how he turned traitor and abandoned us when the enemy landed in the city . . . but I can say that the whole truth is even worse, or at least what I’ve heard of it. He was a wicked man, but our Tai-sa dealt with him the same way she did with Free Skondia Mutineers. I saw what was left of his remains, after the fighting was over, and she’d burned him into a crisp. Ionela broke off her chaffering with Jimmy to glance again over David’s shoulder. “Just goes to show,” she said. “Never make an enemy of a woman who rides an Assault ’Mech.” “Are you writing this letter, or am I?” David demanded in mostly mock indignation. “I’ve got an interest,” she said. “I’m thinking of stealing some of it for myself. There’s still one or two old flames and partners in crime back home in Barra Station who might be interested.” “You’re not planning on going home and telling them yourself?” he asked her curiously. Ionela shook her head. “Not me. I’m taking the Tai-sa’s bonus and signing on for another hitch. Join the Razan’s Ronin’s and see the Inner Sphere.” “Most of it’s mud,” he said. “Nah. Some of it’s under three feet of snow, and the rest of it’s desert. But what the hell, it’s home.” David, smiling, took up his pen again, realizing that he had in fact, come to a decision. I’ll be visiting you on leave as soon as the Battalion gets back from our next campaign, but I won’t be staying. I’m going to keep on with the mercenary unit instead. Somebody has to keep the Inner Sphere safe from people like Sathen Sakamoto and Saed, and right now, it’s us. ~My love to everybody . . . ~David Word Count 1081 Name: David Shiri Rank: Gunsho (Sergeant) MH: KAGE DEST Light Battle Armor Squad: KAGE Company: DEST Section Unit: Razan's Ronins AFFILIATION: HOUSE KURITA Like This Know yourself and you will win all battles.- Sun Tzu Be nice to your enemies...It pisses them off!-Wise man Sho-ka MyKayla Sy-Berian Starr Strike Lance DRAGON'S CLAW RAZAN'S RONINS DC-RD-06-02 SUMMARY The Razan’s Ronin get cajoled into taking this contract by DCPS Liaison Sho-sa Emanuel Parker. Tai-i Tanaka Kintaro from the Razan’s Ronins DEST Team Shadow Battalion caught wind of it and left Dieron early to deploy to Skondia. The Ronins land on world under the protection of 15th Dieron Regulars and 24th Dieron Regulars. After a month in system the Ronins uncover possible locations of the rebel leader of the Free Skondia Mutineers , Sathen Sakamoto. Tai-sa Onishi Razan is on board with Skondia’s governor, Hasani Saadiq, to assemble a joint operation task force to capture the rebel leader. The Joint Operation Task Forces is made up of Razan’s own Heavy Response DEST platoon, a platoon from Skondia’s local law enforcement SWAT division, and Skondia’s Militia GIA or Global Intelligence Agency. Despite their best efforts they fail. Subsequently alerted that Governor Saadiq has called in Mercenaries to hunt him down, Sathen Sakamoto retaliates with a full battalion of ‘Mechs. Outnumbered by 3 to 1 odds the Razan command is nearly overran in the four days of grueling ‘Mech to ‘Mech combat. But in a valiant effort Razan’s assault lance led by Tai-i Owen Callaghan arrives in time to save Onishi’s command. However, Sathen Sakamoto escapes again. After an extensive repair and refit the Ronin’s are primed to try and apprehend Sathen Sakamoto again. Intel uncovers a renegade Teppô moving across the Sheen continent. Ronin command develops a plan that will allow them to follow the Teppô back to the Free Skondia Mutineers stronghold crush the resistance in one fell swoop and capture Sakamoto called ‘Operation: Cleansing Plague’. This time the Joint Task Force will include the entire Mercenary Battalion and a platoon from the Covert Operations Division of the Skondia Planetary Defense Force. Things do not go quite as according to plan; however. The Ronin’s loose a transport chopper , an Oo-Suzumebachi small craft, and a hover tank. But after an intense gun fight and an exciting aerial dog fight the Razan’s Ronin’s get there man.