IPB

Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )

4 Pages V « < 2 3 4  
Reply to this topicStart new topic
> Tau Ceti IV (New Earth), Legionnaires FBO
Lance Callahan
post Nov 15 2009, 08:07 PM
Post #46



LEGIONNAIRES | MechWarrior
Rank: MechWarrior



*

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 31
Joined: 18-December 05
Member No.: 13





I felt my confidence running short. Everything seemed so heavily reliant on this 'skill' that I lacked. Sure, I had knowledge, but experience was an irreplaceable part of a powerful unit. I'd never touched a gun before, and they all seemed... dumbfounded by that. I was just a normal citizen... sort of.... living a normal life... sort of. Well, even if I wasn't so normal, I wasn't THEIR kind of crazy. Or was I?

The conversation drifted forward, but my mouth was rambling without my conscious effort. I only caught a handful of comments as they passed between us.


"A Doctorate, yes. Been off-world for quite a few experiments, as well. Even had a couple of mercenary security units in 'Mechs guard me on occasion. So, I've seen action. From the third person. Not that hard to learn, though. I can tell you the workings of a 'Mech's fusion reactor. It's only a step up from there to control it and all its parts."

Maxwell didn't seem to like it. At least he didn't let on if he did. That glint hadn't left his eyes though, perhaps the only piece of confidence I had to live off. I desperately needed a job, and this... this might just be a welcome change of pace. It really couldn't be too hard to drive a 'Mech, right? Not with all I knew. I'd studied the workings of 'Mechs. Half my classes were based around the technology of today. I probably knew more about how a 'Mech worked than these guys did. Right?

I had to sell it though, had to let him know I was willing to work for it. I'll push myself as hard as I have to. I'll make it work. A 'Mech. I'd show them, I could prove to them that I'd drive that thing better than any of them could! Eventually... it would take time, no doubt. But I'd do it, I'd be the best MechWarrior on the planet, no the Universe! Just give me a chance, just give me some time.


"Even if I have to start low, a simple mechanic. An aerospace fighter, maybe, I've touched based with those a bit. I mean, not the fighting kind, but some of the simpler craft.

Actually, one time I had an experiment with one of those fighters. I took one up into the atmosphere and had to do some crazy maneuvers. We were measuring the effects of the drag forces against a new style of wing we'd just put on..."

I'm not sure how long my tangent lasted before Maxwell froze my tongue with a risen hand.
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Lieutenant Commander Marcus Braddock
post Nov 16 2009, 08:29 AM
Post #47



Legionnares II Benefactor
Rank: Lieutenant



**

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 68
Joined: 10-June 07
Member No.: 218





The rain, until now only a perpetual background drumming through layers of solid building, immediately began soaking me the moment I stepped out of the threshold and down the step. I pulled my jacket tight and buttoned up the front, hunching over to catch the worst of the deluge on my shoulders. The thick soles of my boots slapped out a wet staccato rhythm in the numberless rivulets coursing over every square inch of the ferrocrete surfacing.

It was all very noir, wasn’t it? All that was missing was the streetlamp, some dank piano undertones, and perhaps a stylish hat for myself.
My mood was similarly dark. While Captain Maxwell was the CO (well, one of), it was clear that even he had doubts about this latest scheme. I could tell that he was second-guessing himself, looking for a measure of approval and support from everyone around him.
I know I would.
To that end, I’d made a show of throwing my support behind him back in the mess hall, for his benefit as much as that of the various new fish who had been present. When I’d first signed on with this unit, after that year or so wandering in a daze, I’d made the decision to throw my lot in with them. I’d made the decision to stand beside them when they needed it.
If that meant putting aside personal worries and experiences to present a self-assured face to a team that needed it, then that’s what they’d have. It didn’t mean I could discount or assuage my own concerns entirely, though. But I had confidence. In myself, and in the unit.
Take it from me – that can account for a whole lot.

I reached the closest entry to an old administration block, retooled and designated as company quarters. A few lights were still on this late, although many of these would have been low-wattage guidance bulbs, kept burning at all hours. Although it was only a relatively short distance that separated it from the mess hall, the prevailing rain had already saturated my hair and run down inside the jacket, dampening the fatigue shirt underneath. The indifferent grey sky still churned and tossed like an inverted sea, although the clouds were now barely visible in the cloaked light of this planets' single moon.
I hopped quickly up the ‘crete slab of the landing and under the old buildings’ eaves, reducing the rain abruptly to noise once more. Without fresh water coursing over and around me, the constant wind began to chill me, the cold sinking into my skin as the water was wicked away.
I quickly yanked open the door, to its groaning protest, and slipped through into the markedly warmer interior. With one hand deftly unbuttoning the jacket with movements practiced a thousandfold times over the years, booted feet treading lighter and slower now, I made my way along the first floor hall to the buildings’ stairwell and ascended.

First thing tomorrow, I promised myself. First thing tomorrow I’d head to the warehouses and get that Catapult out of storage. Rope some techs into give me a hand with the diagnostics. Get her over to the ‘Mechbay for some no doubt necessary upkeep. See what could be improved.

The door to my quarters had an old, nautical looking bolt that took both hands to draw open while I eased my feet out of their loosened boots. They could drip dry in the corridor while I saw to the rest of me. Immediately inside I took off the jacket and hung it by the doorway, the triple shooting-star of insignia of the Starponies’ now facing out across the room from its’ back. I absently brushed droplets of rainwater from it with the flat of my hand.

Tomorrow we’ll sort things out. Tomorrow we’ll set things up. Tomorrow we’ll begin our work in earnest. But tonight, tonight I needed to sleep on it.

My quarters were a curious (to outsiders, of course) mix of the fastidiously tidy and the rampantly eclectic. I pulled the damp fatigue-tee over my head and threw it in a small spare footlocker (which was already missing its lid) I had appropriated for organising my laundry. Stepping lightly over another footlocker and past an alcove housing a small desk and an ITAC unit, I faced the squat military bunk. Unmade, naturally.

Tomorrow, I could feel, would be the start of a new existence for the Legionnaires. A new lease on life for myself. First things first, though.
Sleep, and dreams.


[Wasn't that a colourful bit of prose then, boys and girls? dry.gif Makes an unusual change from remembering to change font colours.]

This post has been edited by Talus: Nov 16 2009, 08:46 AM


--------------------
Position: Lieutenant Commander | Legionnaires
Current Battlemech: Catapult - "Jackal."
Loadout: - 2x Holly LRM 15 launchers (shoulder mounted).
- 4x Martell Medium Lasers (torso mounted).
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
MechWarrior Kazuki Kintaro
post Nov 16 2009, 04:40 PM
Post #48



Crewman
Rank: MechWarrior



**

Group: Members
Posts: 84
Joined: 27-July 06
Member No.: 49





The cockpit opened with a struggled, ripping sound.

“Dear god...” I nearly muttered aloud.

“Don't look so grim handsome. It's not all bad news.” Vivian chirped, commenting on my grimacing face.

It was a shambles. The soft fabric seat had become bloated with mould. It's colour, whatever it had been before, was replaced with thick, dark green fur. Some of the metal dials had rusted slightly, some of them had a large build up of condensation on the inside of the glass panel and others had cracked from god-knows-what conditions this thing had been put through. And the smell! God, the smell! A fly would have thrown up in this thing.

“It's not?” I eventually replied. She enthusiastically climbed into the cockpit, ignoring the mould and decay.

“Well, for starters the two medium lasers are current generation and fairly new. Secondly, I took the functioning computer system and its components from the obsolete STG-6S and installed them into this one. You wont need to worry about the important things not working. Although that said, heat management will be a little bit more difficult...”

“Will I have to worry about actuators malfunctioning?”

“You shouldn't. The main things you need to watch out for are communication errors, synchronisation errors and short circuits. Oh, and whatever you do, don't be put into a position where you have to use the ejector seat!”

I stared in utter disbelief.

“Vivi – I cant pilot this thing! I mean, don't get me wrong, I know you did your best and everything, but what am I supposed to do on the field? Stand back and let everyone else do the fighting because I'm not quite equipped for the job?” Vivian smirked a little and raised an eyebrow. I sighed in frustration. “You know what I mean!”

“Well then, wait until I get it all fixed. I mean, it'll take a few months to-”

“That's too long. Besides, I don't have any place to stay.”

“Then stay with me. There's no rush...”

“I cant do that...” I sighed, sitting on the edge of the cockpit with my back to her. “If I did, I couldn't guarantee your safety.”

Vivi sat up in the cockpit seat, concern covering her face.

“You're in pretty deep aren't you?”

“It's probably best if you didn't know...” I said, looking back into the office. Near was still inspecting the model vintage car with avid attention. I felt her soft hand rub my shoulder.

“You know, for someone who saved my life, I'm doing a crappy job at returning you the favour, aren't I space ninja?” She said, causing a light chuckle to escape my lips.

“Don't say dumb things. You never owed me anything. I just needed a favour and you pulled through. If anything, I should be more grateful.” I replied, petting her hand lightly with my own. Though I couldn't see the warm smile spreading across her face, I knew it was there.

“When and where do you need this thing transported to?”

“Ideally today, tomorrow at the latest, to the Legionnaire compound. I'm going to speak with them in about an hour. If what you've told me is correct, they should be in dire need of a spare wheel like me.”

“Well, I'll tell you what space ninja. If you get accepted, I'll deliver this thing to you first thing tomorrow morning. By then, I'll have figured out a manual work around for this ejector seat. I'll also throw in a few pine fresheners to cover the smell of old people this cockpit reminds me off.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, resting her head next to mine. Her cold metal embrace reminded me how grateful she was to still be alive.

“I suppose it'll do...” I jokingly replied. “Make sure its 'fresh pine scent' and not 'new mech scent'...”

“Idiot... you're supposed to sound more appreciative!”


--------------------
Position: Mechwarrior | Legionnaires
Callsign: Sabre
Current BattleMech: STG-6L Stinger
Loadout: 2x Medium Lasers, Jump Jets
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Commodore Benjamin Maxwell
post Nov 17 2009, 12:08 AM
Post #49



LEGIONNAIRES Founder
Rank: Captain



Group Icon

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 658
Joined: 15-December 05
From: Tau Ceti IV
Member No.: 1





Legionnaires' Compound
Outskirts of New Foundation
Tau Ceti IV (New Earth) - April 14, 3067

____________________________________

"Thank you, Mister Callahan. Your background and qualifications make for an enviable resume. The only question I have is - what in the hell are you doing here?"

I already knew why. The rocket-scientist-wannabe was in the same quagmire as everyone else in this godforsaken galaxy. Too many applicants, not enough jobs to go around. He'd probably cycled through three, maybe even four dozen star systems looking for work that was better-suited to him, and had just as likely been turned down. The reasons were probably many, and as always, trivial. Better-qualified (read: better-connected) applicants had ousted him at one turn, and those willing to work for less than the going rate for a Doctorate had bested him at another. In desparation, he ended up where everyone with a pocketful of credentials but few credits to bribe with does - in some smokey dive stepping on the wrong guy's toes, and catching hell for it. If Hobson hadn't been in the right place at the right time, Callahan probably would have ended up in jail - or even dead. I knew the newcomer wasn't prepared for what he was about to get himself into - it was obvious when he'd walked in with his nose held together with a bent piece of steel that looked like something Sawbones yanked off a wall socket. But I also could see in him that he was willing to do whatever it took to survive - and that meant willing to learn. The drive to succeed, at any cost, shone in his eyes with a firey desparation. Callahan knew that this was his last, and best shot at avoiding having his young life cut terribly short - and perhaps, I detected, the chance to beat some manner of unfathomable legacy that had haunted him from a very early age.

"I suppose it's because it was meant to be," Callahan replied, a tone of simplistic honesty coloring his words. I knew the answer was a cop-out, but I let it go, because deep down, there were forces at work far greater than he - or anyone with even a modicum of humility - would want to expose to someone who, for all intents and purposes, represented a near-total stranger.

"Fair enough," I nodded. "Welcome aboard. As you seem to have already struck up a good relationship with our Mister Hobson, go ahead and get set up in his spare bunk. Mister Thorn here," I continued, gesturing toward the Clan warrior, who stood near the doorway, his hulking form casting imposing shadows in the uneven lighting, "has volunteered to teach you everything you need to know about not getting killed. Learn from him. And do it quickly. We dust off in 48 hours. After that it's only a matter of days to Saffel."

And our rendezvous with destiny...

A momentary look of surprise crossed Alex's face at his realization that I had overheard his comments, but it was quickly replaced with a resolute nod.

"Very well. Dismissed!"


--------------------
Position: Senior Captain | Legionnaires
Current BattleMech: WHF-3B White Flame (Lothos) [Heavy - Quad]
Loadout: 1x Large Pulse Laser, 1x Medium Pulse Laser, 2x ER Medium Lasers, 1x Anti-Missile System, Jump Jets
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Sergeant Hobson
post Nov 17 2009, 12:44 AM
Post #50



LEGIONNAIRES | DropShip Commander
Rank: Sergeant



*

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 38
Joined: 18-December 05
Member No.: 12





Legionnaires' Compound
Outskirts of New Foundation
Tau Ceti IV (New Earth) - April 16, 3067
0500 Hours

____________________________________

The grating, shrill buzz of my alarm clock slashed through the warm embrace of my peaceful slumber like a katana at a Kuritan meet & greet. An open-palmed slap, delivered by the most conscious part of my body, elicited the alarm clock's silence, as well as its ensuing ricochet off the far bulkhead. Bleary-eyed, I slowly woke, glancing out the window and making note of the same relentless downpour that had been plaguing us for the better part of three days.

What a fucking wonderful day to fly...

As I slid to the floor, my feet landing on ice-cold ferrocrete momentarily before transitioning to a pair of bedroom slippers, I noticed that the lower bunk, occupied by Lance Callahan, was already vacant and meticulously made.

Does that guy ever sleep?

Shrugging on a robe with the slogan 'My Other Car is a DropShip' loudly printed on its back, I stumbled into the attached bathroom, one of the few concessions to comfort in the compound, and went about my morning hygine ritual, before at last emerging and making my way down the corridor to the mess hall, dressed and pressed, but only marginally awake.

A boom of thunder heralded my arrival in the retrofitted morgue, where Talus was already seated, eating a breakfast that looked suspiciously well-prepared. Had I been more conscious, I might have made a comment about it. But that wasn't happening this morning.


"Morning," I mumbled, shuffling over to the AutoVendor and mashing the selection screen for 'black coffee' followed by 'peaches and cream oatmeal.' As the contraption began filling a mug with watery-looking brown liquid, while simultaneously regurgitating a substance resembling gorilla vomit into a bowl, I glanced toward the seated Lieutenant.

"Did you manage to get that Catapult aboard? I heard the techs had a hell of a time with a couple of the 'Mechs last night."


--------------------
Recipient of the Order of Katherine Steiner medal for distinguished performance in combat.
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Celina Santos
post Nov 17 2009, 06:57 AM
Post #51



Member

*

Group: Members
Posts: 4
Joined: 11-November 09
Member No.: 311





The look on the fellow's face said everything I needed to know. Breakfast was to be skipped. Whatever putrid sludge the automatic food slot was dispensing for the morning meal didn't appear to be fit for vermin, let alone humans. No, it was definitely a fortified protein pack sort of day. There were definitely plenty of those to go around, along with ancient MREs, and a duplicate autovendor on board the Thorin. Maybe I'd try my luck with that one. One thing was for sure though: after a long night of loading uncooperative Mechs and support materials aboard what amounted to a garbage scow with fusion drives had left me angling for a shower. I figured that might just be the best option at the moment.
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
MechWarrior Kazuki Kintaro
post Nov 17 2009, 08:55 AM
Post #52



Crewman
Rank: MechWarrior



**

Group: Members
Posts: 84
Joined: 27-July 06
Member No.: 49





Legionnaires' Compound - April 14, 3067

_____________________

“Well, here goes…” I muttered, standing outside the Legionnaire compound. The heavy rain had begun to subside slightly and had become a cold, lazy drizzle. Even the rain got tired and weary in this city. I anxiously pressed the intercom button and a loud buzz rang out. After a moments pause, an exhausted voice replied.

“… Hello?”

It was now my time to shine. No going back now.

“Yes, hello sir. My name is Kazuki Kintaro. I have transfer papers from the MRBC. I need to speak with whoever is in command.” I said loudly and clearly as a gust of wind caused a nearby puddle ripple violently and kick up water onto my already damp clothes. After a brief pause, the gate next to me strained and groaned before shifting an entire inch.

“Damn…” The person on the intercom sighed. “You’ll have to walk to the front entrance. We have problems with the gate.”

“Understood!” I replied.

______________________

“I trust you found the entrance okay?” The gentleman said as he took a sip of what I presumed was coffee from a Styrofoam cup. He grimaced at the bitter taste and it seemed he had almost regretted drinking it in the first place. I nodded and was about to reply before the man introduced himself.

“Captain Maxwell – how can I help?”

“Mechwarrior Kazuki Kintaro. I have transfer papers from the MRBC. I am to be assigned to this unit effective immediately…” I lied, handing over the false documents. Maxwell put his coffee aside on the empty reception desk and, after wiping his clammy hands dry, grasped the papers. He flicked through them back and forth.

“You asked to come here?” He questioned. I decided to reply with a smile and take it as a rhetoric question. He continued to read over my dossier, briefly running his eyes over the paragraphs.

“It says here you have a child?”

“Yes sir – adopted.” I said, watching as Maxwell raised an eyebrow. Near was stood behind me by the enterance door, staring up at a flickering light.

“It says you need onsite accommodation. Does that mean your son will be staying here?”

“Well, we’ve only just arrived here sir and –"

“Listen, we don’t run a baby sitting service here, mechwarrior.”

“He’s thirteen Captain – he doesn’t need baby sitting. He just needs a roof over his head for now…” I replied. This wasn’t looking good...


*Please note this is taking place on April 14th whereas the current time frame is April 16th. If theres a problem, let me know and I'll edit my post!*


--------------------
Position: Mechwarrior | Legionnaires
Callsign: Sabre
Current BattleMech: STG-6L Stinger
Loadout: 2x Medium Lasers, Jump Jets
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Captain Adam Wolf
post Nov 17 2009, 02:31 PM
Post #53



LEGIONNAIRES Founder
Rank: Captain



**

Group: Members
Posts: 98
Joined: 16-December 05
From: Ontario, Canada
Member No.: 5





Legionnaires' Compound
Outskirts of New Foundation
Tau Ceti IV (New Earth) - April 15, 3067
2100 Hours
_____________________________________________


As I made my way into the bowels of one of the lesser dilapted buildings within the compound, I reflected on our current state of affairs. Within the last couple of days we had gained three new members to our merry little band of mercenaries, not an uncommon thing in this day and age, but when considering the state of our finances it was interesting. Two of the new recruits looked real promising, the Clan warrior Alex Thorn, despite having failed his Trial of Position, was definately a much needed asset. Just looking at the improvement he'd made with our new egghead buddy in the past 2 days was impressive, not to mention the fact that he also had a Marauder IIC in good working order. The other promising recruit was a fellow named Kazuki Kintaru, he definately had some quirks about him and there was just something that didnt quite sit right about him. Its not that I didnt like the man it just felt like he was hiding something or maybe someone, I wasn't really sure. He seemed to get along very well with everyone, and he was a capable 'mech pilot, even if they Stinger he possessed had clearly seen much better days. The third recruit was the intelligent Lance Callahan, while he quite literally had no combat experience, let alone training, when he arrived he had made some amazing improvements in such a short time. Under the guidance of Alex Thorn he now was semi-competant in general combat, he knew how to fire a gun and, thanks in large part to his experience through some experiments of his, he could almost pilot a 'mech. God knows I wouldn't want him in one for combat, but he could at least keep it upright and walking, that was a start.

My thoughts trailed off as I neared my objective, having descended the last set of metal stairs, the old wooden ones leading to the basement had long since rotten away and been replaced by these now rusty metal ones, I grimaced slightly as one of the few remaining flourescents flickered madly before going out for good.


Add another thing to the to-do list around here, I thought shaking my head. Stepping through the doorway into much better lighting I spotted Chief Engineer MacRae elbows deep into a mess of wires and machinery sticking out the side of a large pod like structure.

"Hey Scotty, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" I called out good-naturedly.

"Got myself into? I'm pretty sure it was you that wanted this bucket of bolts set up down here. Bloody thing is on the fritz again, everytime I try to hook up some new storage for it it goes off."

"Well can't you just beat it with a wrench or something?" I chuckled, as Scott whipped around looking at me like I was talking about blowing up a Brian's Cache or something.

"Hit it with a wrench you say? How about I use a Gauss Rifle to attach armor rivets to your 'mech. Or maybe you'd like me to clout you upside the head with a wrench, see if you can't think straight for a change."

"Woah, woah, slow down there Chief. I wasn't serious, at least not completely serious. Anyways, the reason I came down is to find out how come your still messing with this thing instead of upstairs in the 'mech bay making sure we get everything loaded on the Thorin."

"Bloody hell, that old thing needs to be loaded up tonight?" replied Scott as he began to turn back towards the mass of tangled wires still hanging half out of the simulation pod.

"Well preferably by midday tomorrow, which means tonight, if we're going to make it to the jumpship in time."

With a few more grumblings under his breath Scott leaned back into the partly disassembled sim pod and removed a pouch of tools from God knows where within the tangled mess. With a few quick strides he reached the workbench along the wall and deposited the tools there while he retrieved an "Out of Order" sign to stick to the side door of the pod. I wondered why he even bothered at first, but the considered the state of about half of the old machinary in the place and decided that a bundle of wires hanging out the side didnt necessarily mean it didnt work.

"Well let's get a move on, did you find out if that BattleMaster of yours is coming in from Outreach? Or are you sticking with the Thunderbolt?" asked the Chief as we re-entered the dimly lit corridor and made our way upstairs.

"Well I sent a message through the HPG a couple days back, there's just no way of getting it here before we have to lift off, but providing my parents don't run into any trouble getting transport for it we may be able to get it before we jump. I gave them all the data I could about our departure, encoded and referring to it as all merchant stuff of course, so they know the time frame to get it here. According to their last message, I just got it this morning, we lucked out, barring any unforseen issues they should have it off planet by now and on its way to one of two jumpships. One is heading here immediately, the other just happens to be heading past Saffel and was going to be stopping there or at Fomalhaut to recharge. If they can't make the time frame to get it here before we jump, they can meet us at Saffel's jump point and transfer the battlemech to us as cargo."

"How in the bloody hell, do you get so lucky with this shit? I mean I could try and get a piece of equipment as popular as a medium laser from Hesperus II and pay top notch dollar for it, including extra to speed up the shipping, and be lucky to get it inside a month half the time. But you, you make one little phone call to dear ol' Dad and bang he's knocking on your front door with a beautiful 'mech in a week."

"What can I say, my family is well connected, I've got ties to the Dragoons, faint as they may be, and my Dad made a lot of friends in the merchant sectors."

"Yeah, yeah." Scott said with a hearty chuckle.

By this time we were up the stairs and entering into the 'mech bay, or at least the large hanger-like building that had been refitted to serve as our 'mech bay. There was currently several tractors sitting near the entrance with their engines idling, two of which had battlemech's already loaded and strapped down while a third was currently in the process of getting Kintaru's Stinger loaded. A fourth tractor sat off to the side currently unattended but presumably being held for the old Catapult that was appeared to be in the warm up stages of its fusion reactor but was probably giving the techs some trouble having sat in storage for so long.


"Well I'm going to go see how many of these 'mech tractors the boys borrowed from New Foundations Starport, God knows we only had two of the damn things last time I was up here. If you want to get your Thunderbolt prepped for transport we should be good." called Scotty as he trotted off towards a group of techs around one of the loaded tractor transports.

New Foundation Spaceport
New Foundation
Tau Ceti IV (New Earth) - April 16, 3067
0600 Hours
_____________________________________________


We had successfully managed to load just about every piece of equipment that we had that was operational and thought to be of use for this particular mission. There were still a few stragglers bringing up some more equipment or supplies, but the heavy activity at the spaceport that had lasted well into the morning hours had become nothing more than a slow trickle. Aside from seeing the old Catapult act likes it leg fell asleep or suddenly came down with a case of dead leg, the unloading of the Battlemech's and the reloading of them onto the Thorin was mostly uneventful, though I did hear that had a little more trouble with some of the stuff back at our compound. I say mostly because there was that one incident with the Stinger but that really wasn't his fault.

Rubbing a hand across my face I shook my head a bit to get the last of the sleepiness cleared from my mind. Having just spent the past 3 hours asleep half curled into the front seat of truck that seemed to be designed for a man at least a foot shorter than me, I was a little groggy and understandably stiff. Stretching my arms out to the back I began to make my way across to the nearest admin office on the space port grounds, smoothing out the wrinkles in my now day old fatigues to make myself a little more presentable.

Upon reaching the office door I give it a little pull but the door barely budges, checking my way I see that its 0615 hours and try to door again figuring that it should be open. Looking over to the side I see a small sign that says Hours above it, it reads


Hours of Operations
0700 - 1600 Mon thru Sat
0900 - 1400 Sun


Throwing my hands up in the air I turn around and mutter "Freaking figures," to nobody in particular and make my way back towards the Thorin to see what all was left to be loaded.

This post has been edited by Captain Adam Wolf: Nov 17 2009, 11:32 PM


--------------------
Position: Captain | Legionnaires
Callsign : Gunman
Current BattleMech : BattleMaster BLR-WL1 (Moradin) [85 tonnes Heavy]
Loadout : LB-10X AC, AC/5, ATM-3, 3x ER Medium Laser, 3x ER Small Laser (rear), Hardened Armour
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Lieutenant Commander Marcus Braddock
post Nov 17 2009, 08:19 PM
Post #54



Legionnares II Benefactor
Rank: Lieutenant



**

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 68
Joined: 10-June 07
Member No.: 218





“Morning.” Sergeant Hobson muttered through a haze of sleep that was almost visibly obscuring his robed form.

He was eyeing my bacon.
I was immediately on guard, sitting up straighter in my chair, squaring myself off against him. Not that he noticed.

The part of my brain that was in charge of tense combat situations quickly took the lead, weighing up the pros and cons of knocking him out and trying to convince him he’d fallen down the stairs. Then the Good Samaritan in me spoke up and proposed that I offer him some out of laudable generosity. Finally my more mercenary, business minded lobe (the unassuming dark-horse of the lot), convinced me to make a compromise; sell the bacon to Hobson at a reasonable profit.

“Well, Sergeant. I’ll tell you what-“
“Did you manage to get that Catapult aboard? I heard the techs had a hell of a time with a couple of the 'Mechs last night."

He hadn’t noticed.
That’s when you know things are rough, right? When you’re so sleep-taken that even well-grilled bacon passes you by. I wasn’t sure if I should be inwardly glad or disappointed.

Quickly aborting the clandestine operation, I shrugged my jacket away from my neck and adopted a more affable pose. There had indeed been all sorts of delays and troubles last night, although thankfully few of them were mine.

“We did, eventually. I tell you, after we managed to get the reactor turning over again and I’d been walking her back and forth over the ‘Mechbay all day, I’d figured all the kinks had been worked out.”
I took a pause there, wolfed a few slices of bacon and toast, and washed it down with a lukewarm caffeine hit. Hobson settled for rubbing his eyes again and sniffing half-heartedly at the forlorn-looking meal before him. He mumbled something that may have been an affirmation or a question.
“Not a chance, apparently. We’d trucked it over to the starport in the second convoy, but when we reactivated it to take position in the Thorins' Mechbay, the myomers in the left knee joint must have seized up or been rendered inert somehow - nearly tripped the thing over! Now that’s something we could do without showing off in a public starport, I don’t mind telling you...”
Hobson seemed to perk up after taking a sip from his drink, from the caffeine or the horror of ingesting the autovends’ creations I couldn’t tell. He leaned forward over the retasked mortuary table, making decent eye contact for the first time this morning.
“You don’t know the half of it. Have you seen the weather this morning? Suffice to say the sky is on a roll. Not exactly the makings of a smooth ascent.”
I nodded through another mouthful. I had seen the look of things outside. I’d been seeing it all night, having only just come back from a mere three hours sleep, one of which had been in the back of a Humvee at the starport (cold, and unexpectedly sharp). Still, after we had managed to coax the Catapult into moving again, we’d made fairly good progress.
“Well, on the upwards spin of things, we managed to get most of it out of the way by o-three-hundred. I think Captain Wolf is still over at the starport making sure we get our clearance. All I’ve got to do is round up my carry-on luggage, and get Bonesy and the last few medical supplies over to the Thorins’ medbay.”
Sometime during my turn at speaking, when I hadn’t been paying attention to him, Hobson had screwed up his face, pinched his nose and poured the bowl of oddly-spotted muck down his throat.
At least that’s how I visualised it happening – like I said, I hadn’t seen him swallow it.

He cleared his throat noisily and stood, his chair squealing briefly on the flooring. He swayed a little on the spot. In a few seconds I downed the last of my breakfast and mirrored him, albeit with a bit more finesse, not being on the verge of unconsciousness as the sergeant was.

“At any rate, I have a Humvee parked outside with Sawbones already stored in a footlocker in the back. After I run over to my quarters for some things and take a quick shower, I’ll be taking it on over to the starport if you want a lift.”
He grunted in agreement and made a somewhat more revitalised attempt at shuffling for the exit. I watched him go for a few seconds, bemused, and then followed him out.


--------------------
Position: Lieutenant Commander | Legionnaires
Current Battlemech: Catapult - "Jackal."
Loadout: - 2x Holly LRM 15 launchers (shoulder mounted).
- 4x Martell Medium Lasers (torso mounted).
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
MechWarrior Alex Thorn
post Nov 17 2009, 11:19 PM
Post #55



LEGIONNAIRES
Rank: MechWarrior



****

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 175
Joined: 16-December 05
Member No.: 10





The two days I had to train Lance were filled with drills, shooting ranges, and several lectures. I could see in his eyes the first day that he really wanted to pilot a 'Mech, but I knew that with the time frame we were in and with the danger of the mission there would be no way to teach him that. I did however teach him the basics after convincing Captain Maxwell to let Lance rid in my 'Mech in the extra seat that was in it. If the occasion arrised I had given Lance a program on his noteputer that would allow him to hack into an enemy 'Mech so he could pilot it, if the 'Mech was in any condition to do so.

The rest of those days were spent going over assault rifles, which Lance seemed to be the most proficient in, and explosive ordinance. At the end of the second day, the night before we lifted off, I patted Lance on the shoulder.

"You are ready my friend for this mission. There is no more I can teach you in the time we have."

I smiled at him. He still seemed slightly uneasy about the mission, but that was a normal thing. He nodded back.
"Thanks Thorn. You've given me plenty of training. I couldn't have done it without you."

I rocked back in a deep laughter, which caused Lance to look at me strangely. "No thanks are needed. We are now sibkin." I stopped laughing and patted him on the shoulder again. "Come we have much preparing to do."

After a night of not sleeping, and seeing to the loading of my Marauder IIC, I felt as prepared as I could be. Much like the befriending of Schuster, I had quickly befriended Lance, much due to the training in my own opinion. We walked through the starport to our dropship together. There, standing watching as everything that was needed for the trip and mission was put on board, was Captain Maxwell. I nodded as I came up to him.

"Is Lance ready?", he asked as he looked at man standing behind me.

"Aff. As ready as he will be." I looked back at Lance and then back to Maxwell. "If we are lucky to attain another battlemech I would say that he is at an aptitude to pilot one, with the proper training." The captain nodded.

"Very good Thorn."
I smiled as I picked up my bag, and nodded for Lance to follow. I boarded the starship and found a room where me and Lance could bunk. After setting our stuff down I got prepared for the trip to the Jumpship that would take us out of system.


--------------------
Position : Mechwarrior
Callsign :
Current BattleMech : Marauder IIC (Wolf's Teeth) [Assault]
Loadout: 3x ER PPC, 2x Medium Pulse Laser, 4x ER Small Laser
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Commodore Benjamin Maxwell
post Nov 18 2009, 12:11 AM
Post #56



LEGIONNAIRES Founder
Rank: Captain



Group Icon

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 658
Joined: 15-December 05
From: Tau Ceti IV
Member No.: 1





I strode into the cramped confines of the Thorin's bridge, making note of the myriad exposed wires, incomplete circuit boards, and unshielded lighting fixtures that dominated the semi-overhauled command center. A scheduled refit from Earthwerks had been cut short following a surprise attack on the company's shipyards, and the unfinished Aurora was shipped back to Tau Ceti IV with a promise of completion once the 'war' was 'over.'

I chuckled at the irony of the statement.


"Captain on the bridge!" Sergeant Hobson announced, leaping from the command chair and snapping to attention. The assorted techs and support staff present followed suit.

"As you were," I smiled, returning the gestures. "Where's Captain Wolf?"

"He's in the avionics bay," Hobson replied, moving to stand alongside me as I continued to take in the sight of a command center reduced to the barest of operating conditions. "The NavComm system blew out again, and...well...you get the idea," Hobson continued, gesturing at the gutted consoles that surrounded us. "He's hell-bent on getting it up and running before dustoff, even if he has to do it himself."

I nodded a grim affirmation, and breathed a sigh. I hadn't yet had the opportunity to speak with Wolf concerning a laundry list of other myriad 'issues' that were likely to crop up before we'd even made planetfall. We were both certainly going to have our work cut out for us.

"Can you assure me that we will be able to dust off even if Captain Wolf is unsuccessful?"

Hobson nodded.

"Yes, sir. But it'll be one hell of a ride."


--------------------
Position: Senior Captain | Legionnaires
Current BattleMech: WHF-3B White Flame (Lothos) [Heavy - Quad]
Loadout: 1x Large Pulse Laser, 1x Medium Pulse Laser, 2x ER Medium Lasers, 1x Anti-Missile System, Jump Jets
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Sergeant Hobson
post Nov 18 2009, 12:56 AM
Post #57



LEGIONNAIRES | DropShip Commander
Rank: Sergeant



*

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 38
Joined: 18-December 05
Member No.: 12





Our 1,600-ton aerodyne military transport, an Aurora-class DropShip dubbed 'Thorin,' was old, malfunctioning, and probably should have been relegated to the boneyards of the Tetsuhara Proving Grounds to be used for target practice over a decade ago. But in spite of its shortcomings, the vessel still had its advantages. Along the vessel's considerable length were spread four modular cargo bays - two on each side - that were each capable of transporting a pair of BattleMechs, or which could be individually reconfigured into a dual-tiered design to be used for the berthing of support vehicles and other assets. She was moderately armed as well, boasting five Class 5 autocannons situated along the dorsal side of her hull, a pair of heavy lasers slung under her nose on a turret capable of covering a three hundred and sixty-degree firing arc, and two 20-rack LRM launchers, one fore, and one aft.

Her creature comforts were fairly spartan, however. As was the case with the Union class of DropShips, an Aurora's crew quarters were equally as spartan. The entire crew, whether front-line grunts or support personnel, had to cram themselves into a single, tiny bunkroom with neither viewports nor recreational facilities. Lieutenant Braddock and Lieutenant Schuster shared another microscopic bunkroom, while the captain's private quarters took up an area just large enough to accommodate a single bed and washbasin, requiring Captains Maxwell and Wolf to make use of the unit in twelve-hour rotations. The Thorin's sanitary facilities were likewise as limited, and the air recirculation system was as small and unsophisticated as possible. Frequent breakdowns were typical, often creating an atmosphere redolent of sweat and body odor.

In other words, it was a far cry from the leviathan luxury liners I'd piloted in a life that now seemed as distant and surreal as one of those dreams which, the more you try to remember, the more you forget.

Which was just as well, I surmised. The less I remembered about my previous life, in which I had been afforded a private dining hall and opulent quarters that would have made an AFFS fleet commander jealous, stood in stark contrast to my cot in a communal sleeping bay, and a battered vending machine in a cramped foodservice hall that smelled like old socks.

And now I had the dubious honor of piloting the beast into orbit, in the middle of the worst gale I'd seen since I'd first set foot on Tau Ceti IV. Sure, we had six high-end fusion drives working in our favor, but the Thorin was a spacecraft first, and an aircraft second. A distant second, at that. Although she was an aerodyne by definition, she was only slightly more aerodynamic than a ferrocrete brick. A set of atmospheric stabilization fins mounted at the stern, above and to either side of the drives, along with a bevy of maneuvering thrusters, provided the sole means of steady flight under normal weather conditions. And while those worked well enough under said conditions, I'd never attempted to fly her under conditions as utterly abnormal as these.


May fortune favor the foolish...

This post has been edited by Sergeant Hobson: Nov 18 2009, 01:18 AM


--------------------
Recipient of the Order of Katherine Steiner medal for distinguished performance in combat.
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Commodore Benjamin Maxwell
post Nov 18 2009, 02:42 AM
Post #58



LEGIONNAIRES Founder
Rank: Captain



Group Icon

Group: LEGIONNAIRES
Posts: 658
Joined: 15-December 05
From: Tau Ceti IV
Member No.: 1







--------------------
Position: Senior Captain | Legionnaires
Current BattleMech: WHF-3B White Flame (Lothos) [Heavy - Quad]
Loadout: 1x Large Pulse Laser, 1x Medium Pulse Laser, 2x ER Medium Lasers, 1x Anti-Missile System, Jump Jets
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post

4 Pages V « < 2 3 4
Fast ReplyReply to this topicStart new topic
2 User(s) are reading this topic (2 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

 



Lo-Fi Version Time is now: 28th March 2024 - 09:11 AM


subBlack shadows and light edition © 2005 - DreamCaster
Original subBlack phpbb2 style by spectre