From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][Fanfic] Razor's Edge Chapter 1 Brief Author's Note: Razor's Edge is the tentative title for a BattleTech novel I wrote between January and August, 1996. I've had most of it on my two computers in that time (first my Mac classic, and my PC) but haven't really looked at it because the last third or so was written on another computer, and I had misplaced the disk with those chapters as well as the hardcopy pages of them. Recently, I found the disk again, so I felt it would be a good time to get it out into the public eye. Hopefully, I have all the chapters, now (if not, I'll search through my Mac's hard drive to find the other ones.) It may take me some time to get all of them up, because the transfer of ascii files between the two OS's isn't perfect, and I have to do some slight editing. A few changes have taken place from when I originally wrote it. Kevin's original name was Kramer, which, after I'd finished, seemed a reference to Seinfield. This was unintentional, but I felt a change was necessarry. A few other slight name changes happened, and I'll note them as I find them. When I originally wrote this I had the intention of actually submitting it for publishing to FASA. The length of time it took to write it (>6 months), the advancement of the BattleTech universe, and my confidence in my writing ability at the time more or less stopped that. I now view it as one of the better learning experiences of my life, and I think I advanced as a writer while writing this. Because I want feedback, more in depth editing hasn't taken place. Many things that appear here wouldn't show up if I was writing this now, but even so, I'd like to hear about them. email damienroc@whyweb.com if you have any feedback. For timeline purposes, this takes place near the end of and shortly after Michael A. Stackpole's Bred for War. While BattleTech might not be seen as on topic for an anime newsgroup, the roots of the game in anime, as well as the prominent place of anime elements such as mecha, lend reasoning for its posting here. IAC, on with the show. BattleTech is (tm) and (c) FASA corporation. All characters and situations are (c) K. Jeffery Petersen. BattleTech: Razor's Edge by K. Jeffery "Damien Roc" Petersen =Chapter 1= Harlech, Outreach Chaos March (Disputed Territory) 4 December, 3057 Lieutenant Kevin Richards exited the mercenary Hiring Hall and into the wind swept streets of Harlech not in the best of moods. In his hand he held a hardcopy report of his unit's status. The wind picked up, so he stuffed the paper in his pocked and pulled his overcoat closer to his stocky frame. He was of medium height and had lightly browned skin, showing his African heritage. The fact that he was such a stout man made him look quite short, even though he was over 170 centimeters in height. His curly black hair was cut short, and shaved on the sides to make connections with his neurohelmet better. Grand total of offers in the last three weeks? he thought sardonically, NONE! The news didn't surprise him all that much, but even his normally good humor was beginning to wear a little thin. His unit, which he had name the Richards' Razors after the principle, was quite undermanned. Two of the four other remaining MechWarriors joined up with him during 3055 after his unit in the AFFC-the First Robinson RCT-had been all but utterly decimated by Steel Viper forces in a particularly badly planned raid on Parakolia. Kevin had gotten fed up with the way House units were run, so he resigned, took a few other Mechwarriors with him to Outreach, and struck it up on his own. He got a few recruits and had built up to a total force of eight. The first contract for his company was a garrison assignment on Ulan Bator, a small world in the Sarna March. Unfortunately, the world was part the hunk of space that became a bloody war zone between the Federated Commonwealth and the Capellan Confederation. This cut his two year contract a little short. He had lost three of his Mechwarriors, but had gained two fighter pilots almost immediately upon returning to Outreach. Since that time, he had gotten little of anything else in the way of good fortune. The few people who did try to join up were barely fit to be called Mechwarriors, most of their "combat" time was intensive simpod piloting. They might have had the skills, but they didn't have the attitude. One individual had just arrived from Solaris VII thinking that he had all that was necessary. Kevin sincerely doubted it, whatever "what was necessarry" might be. And today's just another day to prove that Mechbunnies are about all I can hope for. His group had a "C+" rating, which was not bad, but with barely more than a Lance to field, it wasn't worth it for most employers to hire him. The company didn't even have a tech. "Lieutenant Richards?" a voice asked him, startling him out of reverie. Kevin turned and eyed the tallish man who had spoken. He was dressed in an AFFC field uniform. His hair was strait and sandy blond, which clashed a little with his fiery green-blue eyes. The man's ruddy complexion was spattered with small burns and scars as far as Kevin could see; the only part of the man's skin showing was his face and neck. "Yes?" Kevin said after a short pause. The man smiled, but his eyes still showed an only slightly subdued anger. He offered his hand which Kevin accepted. "I'm Captain Alex Dawson, AFFC. Could I have a word with you?" "Yeah, sure. Over dinner, perhaps?" Kevin started down the street again, Alex followed. "Fine. I'll pay. You choose." The curt remarks from the other man came across in a strangely controlled, but angry, tone. Kevin was beginning to get intrigued by Alex Dawson. Kevin led them to a small eatery that he had found served food that was at least edible, and didn't cost an actuator or two. Alex was silent until they had sat down and ordered, he then got right to the point. "I would like to hire your unit, Lieutenant." Kevin took a sip of water before commenting. "If my memory serves correctly, isn't it rare for an AFFC unit to hire, especially by sending a captain?" Alex regarded him for a moment as if weighing what Kevin had said. "True, but I wish to hire you by myself." "Curiouser and curiouser. Go on." "I wish to strike at the Clans." Kevin let out a guffaw at this. He succeeded in not spitting up water all over himself, but only barely. "Bit to the point aren't you?" he asked. "Have you fought the Clans, Lieutenant?" Alex's voice became deathly serious. "I fought them two years ago on a few other occasions. Pretty much why I decided to become a merc." Their food arrived, and Kevin began to eat. "Then you should know that we haven't got much time." Dawson let his food sit, only taking little bites here and there. "Time? It doesn't look like the Clans will be in any position to press forward, even ignoring the truce. The Falcons and Wolves are slamming it all out, so I don't see how, or why they would attack. They got internal problems same as the Inner Sphere." Kevin stabbed a few pieces of food to punctuate his point. "The Clans will be attacking in at the most ten years. I want to hire you to prevent that." Kevin finished chewing. "You might have a slight problem with that, in case you hadn't noticed, you are currently at war, and Katrina Steiner's announcement to create the Lyran Alliance makes it a little difficult for AFFC troops to find a world to attack from." Kevin paused. "Unless you want to go to Wolcott." "If I have to fight from the Combine, I will, but the Clans must be stopped." Alex finally took a full bite and chewed with vigor. "Can I ask you why? Why are you so hard up about the Clans?" "The destroyed my unit. Killed it entirely, dammit! One other might have survived, but he's probably one of their slaves right now. I was barely lucky enough to stay free." Alex's eyes almost misted over as he thought about the memories, but he fought it down. "I don't want it happening to any other people. That is enough reason for me." Kevin chuckled slightly. "Hm. I think that you have chose the wrong unit for your goal. Mine is too small, and I don't want to fight the Clans now. Maybe get a few contracts in the Inner Sphere. Chase bandits or pirates. Build up strength for a year or two, then take `em on. If they attack, I might choose otherwise. But until then..." "I see." Dawson kept his face neutral. "Can I ask one question before I go?" Kevin pushed his plate away. "I suppose so." "How did you plan on paying for the Razors? Even small merc groups don't come cheap, and I would hardly suspect that a captain's pay would be sufficient to hire me." For once in their conversation, the other man seemed to be at a loss. "I don't really know, but I'm sure you would have had full salvage rights." Kevin nodded, gaining understanding. Most contracts that were low on pay had very high salvage rights, assuming there was any salvage or a unit to take it. "Well. Thanks for the lunch. And nice meeting you, Captain." "Good day, Lieutenant." Dawson remained seated as Kevin left the eatery. *** Back at the apartments his unit was renting, Kevin found two of his warriors there: Derek Haas, who piloted a Javalin, was snoring loudly on the couch while Anson Remele, a Commando pilot, was sitting directly in front of the tri-vid. The two men were a contrast to each other. Haas was a large heavyset man with a balding pate, even though he wasn't even thirty yet. The other man was much younger, about the same height, but much leaner in stature. "Hi, boss," Anson greeted cheerfully as Kevin entered and took off his coat. "Afternoon, Anson," he replied, "Can he saw a little louder?" He gestured toward the sleeping form. Anson grinned. "Probably, but then the Dragoons might wonder why someone's starting a lumber company in the middle of Wolf City. Oh, you got a message. Some dude wanting to join up." Kevin walked over to the kitchenette and poured himself a glass of water. "Did he sound competent?" "Hell, I dunno. That's your department." Anson got up and tossed Kevin a wadded up piece of paper. "There's his number. He looked Asian. Said he could meet with you later today." He squatted down by Haas and punched the sleeping man. Haas opened his eyes and glared at Anson. "Time to go, buddy," Anson said as if he had done Haas the best favor in the world. "Boss's got work to do." Haas got up slowly, rubbing his eyes. He had a frown on his face, but kept his thoughts quiet. Kevin began to punch up the number on the vidphone. "You guys know where the others are?" he asked. Anson looked thoughtful, "Uhm... I think that Maddie is out doing something and Mr. Trell is doing what he does best." Kevin shook his head slightly. What should I expect. "Thanks for the help Anson." Then a person at the other end of the line answered. Anson and Haas quietly left. "Hello," Kevin started, "I'm Lieutenant Kevin Richards. I was told that you left a message for me." The other man gave a half smile. "I did do so, sir. I would like to join your unit." "Is it just me, or is everyone really blunt these days?" Kevin thought back to the meeting earlier. "I am sorry, sir?" The asian man looked very confused. "It was a rhetorical question." "Oh. I see." "What was your name, I don't believe you told me." "I am Marcus Wu, sir." "Well, Marcus, I'd like you to stop by this afternoon so I can interview you. I'll need your dossier, and try to be here within an hour." "I will do that, sir." Marcus leaned forward getting ready to kill the connection. "Oh, and Marcus?" That brought a pause to the action. "Please don't call me "sir," yet." "Yes, sir." He killed the connection. He might be a problem, but if he's worth it, I might be able to sort him out. Kevin rubbed his eyes. It should be a start, at least. The initial meeting with Marcus Wu was not the greatest. The man looked like he was fresh out of the Academy. Not too much to look at, Kevin thought; even with his 5'7" height, he towered over the slight Asian. But after glancing through Marcus's dossier and asking a few questions, Kevin was forced to change his opinion. Though exceptionally formal, Marcus had engaged in a rather good amount of combat over the past four years. Most of it was against Periphery pirates, but he had still done well against those. What was especially good was the Mech that Marcus piloted. A 65 ton Catapult put it heavier than anything that was already in the Razors. Also it had the latest in artillery systems: the Arrow IV MAS. That sort of firepower would help greatly when trying to soften up enemy forces. Kevin told Marcus that he would need to check over the man's dossier first, but would be in contact as soon as possible. "Thank you, sir," Marcus replied at this. "Don't thank me yet. I still have to actually decide. I'll probably get back to you within a day." Kevin led the shorter man out. The dossier showed a successful, if mediocre, record in the Capellan Confederation. Marcus had left during the changes that Sun-Tzu was making to his military. He'll probably work out, he though, But I want him to take part in our simpod exercise tomorrow. With that thought in mind, Kevin left a message for the Asian man. From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][FanFic] Razor's Edge Chapter 2 Brief Author's Note: Again, a few slight edits took place, but this is mostly in its original form. Name changes are the biggest instances, tho in this chapter I discovered that about halfway through, I accidentally changed the model of a Mech (from an Ostroc to an Ostsol.) I believe that there may be a few instances (in later chapters) were some passages will have to be either edited out entirely or changed to reflect the fact that one name change is that of the mercenary company. I'll note it when I get to it, however. BattleTech is tm and (c) FASA Corporation. All characters and situations are (c) K. Jeffery Petersen. =Chapter 2= Harlech, Outreach Chaos March (Disputed Territory) 5 December, 3057 "Alright, troops, lets try to get out of this one alive." Kevin shifted uncomfortably in the simpod cockpit. Damned thing doesn't have the feel of my Enforcer. But at least it's practice, and I can get to see this Marcus kid in action. "So, we've got six of us, boss." That was Maddie Winson from her Wolfhound. "What are the assignments?" With only six Mechs in his group, Kevin had decided to make two pseudo lances of three each. "Maddie, you, Anson and Haas will be our probe lance. Find the enemy, pinpoint them for Mr. Wu and the Catapult, and flush them toward the rest of us. We form the battle lance." "Roger, Battle Ace. Probes Two and Three, form on me." Once I get a full company together, Kevin thought as the light Mechs started their recon, Maddie's gonna make a great lance commander... Make that _if_ I get a company together. "Battle Ace, this is Battle Duece. What is our opposition? Over." Wallace Trellan brought his Ostroc off to Kevin's left. They now formed a "V" with the Catapult at the rear point. "Duece, it's two lances of 30 to 40 tonners that call themselves the Eight Balls. Don't know about their exact composition." "Copy, Ace." While they waited for the Probe Lance to report, Kevin rechecked his systems. Right arm autocannon: check, first round of cluster munitions loaded; safety off. Left arm laser: check, charged and ready. Torso mounted small laser: check, on standby. Heat sinks: check. Actuators: check. Gyro: well, he wasn't falling down. Targeting computer: Kevin centered the crosshairs on a tree, the center turned red. Check. Communications system: check. Ready to roll. "Battle Lance, this is Probe Leader. We have sightings of three enemies. Sending data now." As Maddie spoke the words the red spots showed up on Kevin's radar. "Should we engage or continue recon?" "Continue recon for other units, Probe Leader," he commanded, "What are the redspots' IDs?" "I mark a Clint, Valkyrie and Firestarter." "Copy, Probe. Commencing artillery in 15 seconds. Wu, do you have acquisition?" "Acquisition received." Marcus's Mech turned slightly. A panel on the Mech's right side opened to show an "X" shaped pattern of five firing ports. When the timer got to zero, there were five small explosions as the ports ejected their deadly cargo. The missiles shot out and away in a huge arc going out of sight. Though he couldn't see the target zone, Kevin knew that the five missiles would break up into smaller munitions to rain their deadly fire on the enemy Mechs. "Battle Lance, advance." Kevin started the fifty ton war machine forward. The simpod rocked up and down amongst deep booming sounds to signify the movement. Explosions went off in the distance as the Arrow IV rounds hit their target zones. "Probe, what's the story?" Trellan asked. "You got that Clint and Valkyrie but good. I think that they're out of the fight permanently. But that `Starter dodged out of the way before the slam." "Roger that. We'll look out for him." Nice to know that the odds are evened up now. Kevin thought as the three heavier Mechs crested a rise. "We've got visuals on the other lance," Derek Haas's voice sounded sleepy, but from experience Kevin knew that the man was very much awake. Anson piped in. "I get a Jenner, Panther, Assassin, and..." He paused. "What the heck is that thing?" The other voices of the probe lance answered negative. Whatever the Mech was, they had never seen it before. "Cut the chatter, Probe. You have permission to engage at will. See you in the middle. Battle Leader out." The Battle Lance crested another rise to see the destruction of the artillery bombardment. Two twisted remains lay near each other on the ground. Smoke billowed out at in a sort of pulsating rhythm. And the Firestarter was nowhere to be seen. Distant sounds of battle began to reach his lance. They moved steadily toward the fighting Mechs, but kept their eyes open for the Firestarter and the other missing Mech. Though they had only engaged the Crazy Eights lance for about twenty seconds, the Probe Lance was reporting bad news. "Battle Leader, we are experiencing heavy casualties. Request immediate backup." Kevin could only think, Already? Two lances of Mechs, especially light Mechs wouldn't usually have slammed each other that much that soon. While Panthers and Jenners did have heavy armament, they couldn't put out that kind of damage that quickly. And Assassins were known for mobility, not firepower. Whatever is the problem, has to be that mystery Mech. When the Battle Lance finally arrived, Kevin saw why. The Mech was the oddest contraption he had ever seen. Its entire right side was one long barrel. It had a head, arms and legs, but these seemed to have been added to the design as an afterthought. Kevin had never seen it before, but the effectiveness was impressive. Of the enemy Mechs, only the Jenner had been downed, while all of Probe Lance was out of the fight. The strange Mech turned and the long barrel fired at him. A silvery ellipsoid about the size of a watermelon shot out at about twice the speed of sound. It slammed into his left torso and almost a ton of armor fell away, the simpod leaned back and down with the blast to copy what a real Enforcer would have done. Gauss rifle, Kevin thought as he had to fight to keep his Mech stable. Impulses from his brain through his neurohelmet helped the gyro compensate for the sudden loss of weight. For better or worse, the battle had been joined. Kevin brought up his Autocannon and fired at the Assassin the shotgun like pellets flew out and ground away at the lighter Mech's armor on the left side. The Assassin replied by firing off a salvo of LRMs. Three of the five hit Kevin in the right torso, but failed to come close to breaching the armor. On Kevin's left, Trellan fired his Ostroc's two large lasers at the Panther which responded with its Particle Projector Cannon. The PPC's blue-white electric bolt slammed into the Ostroc's left leg, and while one of the lasers missed, the other burned away armor in the cat-like Mech's right arm. Marcus had fired his four medium lasers at the mystery Mech, but the range was too great to target it properly. "Battle Lance, close and engage," Kevin commanded, bringing his Enforcer forward towards the enemy as he fired his heavy laser. The green bolt stabbed into the Assassin's right side, obliterating half a ton of armor in a hiss of grey-white vapor. The Assassin again tried hit him with the LRMs, but Kevin engaged his jump jets and sailed over the deadly barrage. Meanwhile, the gauss rifle-with-legs had proceeded to hammer at Marcus's Catapult. To his credit, Marcus kept hit artillery Mech stable and even engaged his jump jets as well to throw off the strange Mech's aim. Trellan sprinted forward to the Panther while dodging from side to side to throw off his adversary's aim, but this also made his lasers shoot wide. The Assassin gave a little run forward and fired it's right mounted medium pulse laser. Ruby-red darts stitched little hole up the Enforcer's right side, but again failed to breach through to the delicate internal structure. Kevin fired his Autocannon again, but the buckshot fire only managed to get a glancing blow on the Assassin. "Report!" he barked at his lance mates. He triggered his jump jets again and sailed off to the right of his opponent. "Moderate damage on torso and legs. Nothing internal." Marcus said this as Kevin twisted his torso just before landing with a ground shuddering "thump." "He's havin' a field day with my left side, but nothing critical yet." Trellan and the Panther traded shots again. "Lost my right Laser." Kevin brought his autocannon up again and pressed the trigger as soon as the crosshairs went red. The heavy weapon spat round after round at the Assassin as he held down the trigger. The target jumped away from Kevin, but that only barely disrupted his aim. Flecks of armor came away from the Assassin amidst a shower of sparks as the cluster munitions ran dry. Kevin released the trigger and the traditional rounds entered the chamber with a hollow click. The Assassin landed just beyond the Catapult and immediately began to concentrate its fire upon the heavy Mech. This has got to end now! Kevin thought vehemently as he sighted the newly encountered Mech with his large laser. The emerald beam sliced cleanly through the smaller Mech's left arm, leaving it seriously unbalanced. It began to tip over to the right. The pilot, as if panicking, tried to twist to the left and use the long barrel to counterbalance, at least temporarily, the momentum of the fall. It didn't succeed and the Mech fell down on its right side. Almost immediately, the pilot fired. The Gauss slug flew up and impact hard into the Enforcer's chest. The damage wasn't enough to penetrate the thick ferro-fibrous armor, but the force of the shot, coupled with the loss of armor. Forced the Mech back, threatening to topple it. Kevin tried to counteract this by backpedaling the Mech's legs, but this only partially succeeded in dampening his fall. The Enforcer pretty much sat down, jamming Kevin down into his control chair. The Assassin pilot must have been watching the entire exchange, because as soon as Kevin fell. The forty ton machine broke off its attack against the Catapult and ran quickly toward the downed Enforcer. About 150 meters away, rockets flared around the Assassin's legs and torso, shooting it skyward. Death from above, Kevin thought as his throat went dry. It was a maneuver more dangerous than any other preformed in a BattleMech. The pilot attempted to land his Mech onto another. He tried to throw off the Assassin's aim by firing his large laser, but it came low. In an attempt to ward off the blow, he began to bring his autocannon arm up to protect the Enforcer's head and torso, but was just moments too slow. The Assassin's feet landed dead center on the Enforcer's chest. The impact drove the heavier Mech onto its back. The armor diagram of the Enforcer's chest went briefly red, then blacked out entirely as the massive weight crushed any remaining armor left. The momentum unabated, the mass also bent the endo skeleton horribly out of shape with a screeching twist. Kevin lost his senses slightly as the force drove him hard into the back of his couch. Lacking any control over his machine for that brief moment, the Enforcer's legs swung up and contacted with the Assassin's back in a double kick. It bent backwards slightly from the force and took a few stumbling steps forward, getting off of the Enforcer. At least I wasn't the only one damaged by that exchange, Kevin thought, and his legs have to be hurting. Shaking his head to clear it, he rolled his Mech over to push it up off of the ground. The Assassin had run around away from his field of view. Kevin got the Enforcer up and twisted around to survey the battlefield. The Assassin pilot was running his machine around Marcus's Catapult while the Ostroc and the Panther traded shots. The strange little Mech was attempting to also get on its feet, but not with quite the same success that Kevin had. You probably won't make it, he thought, But just to make sure. Aiming his autocannon carefully, he pressed the firing stud. Surprisingly, the little Mech had almost succeeded at getting to its feet, but then the depleted uranium slugs ripped into it. Not a clustergun scatter, but more of a gatling stream, the blast tore through what little armor remained in the Mech's left leg. Now thoroughly unbalanced, it fell forward directly onto the long cannon. The Gauss Rifle barrel telescoped into the more delecate inner working of the gun and exploded. The blast disintegrated the Mech's engine shielding and released the violent fusion energy. A glaring white hemisphere ballooned out from the Mech with the intensity of a mini-sun. Kevin tried to shield his eyes, but was too late. He blinked his eyes to clear the spots. A deep thunderous boom accompanied the shockwave that radiated out from the destroyed Mech and the virtual ground took on a very bleak and destroyed color. Kevin could vaguely see the Assassin jump out of the way, but it got right in front of the Catapult. Marcus triggered his Arrow IV at point blank range and the resulting explosions blasted the Assassin back away from the heavier Mech in at least five different pieces. The shockwave only intensified the critical damage on Kevin's front torso, but didn't do anything that put him out of commission. Marcus had had his back turned toward it, so he only got more superficial damage. The Ostroc, however, was knocked down like a child's toy. The Panther also went down, and neither Mech attempted to get back up. "Guess it's just you and me, Battle Three," Kevin wondered at the bad luck that his unit was having. True, as far as Mech's went, they were still equal to the Crazy Eights, but those two-the Firestarter and whatever the last one was-hadn't taken damage yet. Kevin's Enforcer, was nearing the point where it might be better to fight with his bare hands, and Marcus's Mech couldn't take much damage before it, too would be in the same condition. Also, the artillery Mech wasn't designed to take part in the infighting. "Copy, Battle Leader. What are your orders?" This is not good. "Three, we stick close. If anything appears we use hit-and-run tactics. We both have jump jets, so we should use them." Kevin turned his Mech in a slow circle. "Roger." "I'm going to jump up to try and get a target. You slam it with the Arrow." Kevin hit his jump jets and shot skyward. He switched to electromagnetic sensors and scanned the rapidly growing sensor area. Almost immediatly, klaxons blared, warning of incoming missiles. Kevin immediatly pulled off of the jump jets, but a full flight of LRMs slammed into the back of his Enforcer. The armor held, but only barely. "I am on the target, Leader," Marcus announced as Kevin landed his war machine. "Firing first salvo... Firing second." Two groups of the five artillery missiles arced from the right side of the Catapult toward the source of the missile barrage. I'm nearly in the red zone at every location, Kevin thought, A kid with a popgun could take me down. "I have an enemy detected, Leader." The redspot appeared on the Enforcer's scanner as Marcus fed the location. "Charge him, Three. All or nothing. Keep your movement erratic." Complying with his own orders, Kevin slammed the throttle full forward. His Mech started runnning at over eighty klicks per hour toward the enemy Mech. "Copy, Leader." Marcus started after him, but the Catapult was slightly slower. Kevin dodged the Enforcer quickly left and right, while using little mini jumps to prevent another LRM barrage from hitting him. Nearing the last rise, he got his weapons ready and hit the jump jets to sail over it. As soon as he saw the target, the missing Firestarter, Kevin pressed the triggers on both his main weapons. A huge blast of heat washed across him as the autocannon shells ripped holes across the torso of the smaller Mech and the green laser melted armor off of the left arm. The pilot must have been expecting Kevin to conduct a headlong attack, because even before he had fired his weapons, four missiles streamed forth from the Firestarter's torso and impacted in the gaping hole in the Enforcer's chest. Kevin looked at the damage expecting no internal structure at all to be remaining, but was extremely surprised to find no significant damage. Then the lights of the simpod cockpit flickered and dimmed. What the, is this breaking down on me? He then saw the heat scale. It was way past the red zone. One word came into his mind. Infernos. In a real combat situation, the completely uncontrolled drop would have probably killed Kevin, but the simpod shut down as soon as the computer deemed him dead. He popped the hatch and climbed out of the simpod. That was pretty pathetic, he thought. Looking up he saw a viewscreen that showed the battle. The remaining warriors were standing around it, entranced. Kevin approched them as the Catapult crested the rise. Marcus didn't use his jump jets, presumably because he had seen the Enforcer's fate. The Firestarter sprang forward at the larger machine and triggered all four flamers in its arms. That guy's running a heavily modified version, Kevin thought. The flames singed the front of the Catapult but didn't do any excessive damage. Marcus fired his medium lasers in reply, but only two of them contacted, vaporising armor on the Firestarter's left side. Then the Firestarter pilot did a daring action. The Mech dropped almost prone and kicked out at the Catapult's legs. The contacting blow crushed the remaining armor like tin foil and also distorted the internal skeleton. The Catapult's weight began to distort the bent ankle more, and the Mech began a slow downward fall. The Firestarter tried to dodge out of the way, but Marcus twisted his Mech toward the lighter machine. The Snub nosed cocpit of the Catapult slammed right into the pelvis of the Firestarter, the impact of which would have killed Marcus. The force sent shockwaves into the ammo bays of the inferno missiles. The Firestarter exploded much as the Gauss Rifle Mech did. Kevin shook his head at the outcome. Neither team had a surviving Mech so the result was a draw. The last unseen Mech of the other team was a forty ton Whitworth a missile boat. Apparently Marcus's artillery barrage destroyed the cocpit of the machine. A man in his early forties approached Kevin. "That was one interesting battle, Lieutenant," the man said, "I'm Captain Jarvis Eitton Maybe we should have a rematch sometime. When I have all of my real MechWarriors." "Not all of those were yours?" Kevin asked. "I thought that you had eight members, hence the name." "No. Two of my people are off planet on a short leave. I was just trying out some new prospects." "Hmm. What were you piloting?" "The Assassin." "Nice death from above, if I wasn't so lucky, you would have had me right then and there." Eitton smiled. "Maybe, but you never know. Well, it was nice meeting you, Lieutenant." He proffered his hand. Kevin shook it. "Captain." He walked over to the rest of the Razors. "Well, folks, it looks like that's a wrap for today. Get some R&R, but also look out for contracts." He clapped his hands together. "Mr. Wu, if I could have a word with you?" "Certainly, sir." Marcus walked along side Kevin as they left the building. "I was duly impressed by your abilities today, even if we didn't win. You hadled that Catapult surprisingly well in a straight up fight." "Thank you, sir." "Mr. Wu, welcome to the Richards' Razors." Kevin cracked a grin to the smaller man. "That is, if you still want to join." Marcus grinned broadly, his eyes shining. "I would, sir. Thank you again." "Alright, Mr. Wu... or should it be Marcus, I'll need you to get your Mech in with the rest of ours. Go to the apartment, and ask either Haas or Anson to help you. If you need anything else to be moved, this is probably the time." Kevin turned to enter the simulator building again. "Oh," he called over his shoulder, "Be ready to move out at a moments notice. If I accept a contract, it will probably bug us out of here pretty quick." "I understand, sir. It is a pleasure to be part of the team." -------------------------------------------------------------- From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][FanFic] Razors Edge Chapter 3. Brief Author's Note: I changed Kerri's last name. I'm not going to say her first last name, for fear of being unduly ridiculed. ^^;;; However, because of the change, I had to delete a few paragraphs. I also did a minor addition because of the change to the Unit name. BattleTech is (tm) and (c) FASA Corporation. All characters and situations (c) K. Jeffery Petersen. =Chapter 3= Harlech, Outreach Chaos March (Disputed Territory) 5 December, 3055 Kevin glanced around the simpod center when he re-entered. He preferred it over the much more famous and liked Dragoon Practice Fields for two reasons. First, it was much easier to get into; you didn't have to schedule days or even weeks in advance. Second, you could make physical attacks in a simulator. The Firestarter had made the battle a draw because it could make a physical attack. Otherwise it would have probably lost. Training, in Kevin's mind: fun, was over for the day. Two of the enemies weren't yet employed, and while he didn't wish to take them away from Captain Eitton his prospective Mechwarriors, it was as they say, "All's fair in love and war." As he approached a knot of people watching one of the many holovid screens, Kevin had a passing wonder at who "they" were. Onscreen was a rather even one-on-one battle. A new Scarabus, the much faster, smallest brother in the Hatchetman family, was facing off against a Firefly-a light fire support BattleMech. "Probably a Dragoon trying to prove something," he said aloud. An attractive girl next to him turned. "Sorry? What's that about a Dragoon?" Kevin looked at her. She had shoulder length blond hair and stood about two inches shorter than he did. A few freckles dotted her nose. She also had a very deep blue eyes. He would have placed her at about twenty, but he wasn't sure. "Oh, the Firefly, I think that the pilot is a Dragoon. He came to the simpods to show the people here what a real warrior fights like." "Really?" She gave a slight grin. "Pretty sure. Fireflies are all but completely nonexistent outside of Wolf's Dragoons, and very few people know the actual nuances of piloting one." Onscreen the Mech of their conversation was pelting the hatchet weilding Scarabus with LRM fire, but, because of the immense speed of the Scarabus, wasn't meeting much success. "Unfortunately, for the Dragoon, that's no simpod wannabe." She glanced at the screen. The Scarabus had closed within the range of the Firefly's medium lasers, but again the speed made it difficult for the Dragoon pilot to get a fix. "How can you tell," she asked. "Well, that's my job. I'm looking for prospects for my merc unit. I come here to see what the territory is looking like." He paused as the Scarabus swung past the Firefly and slashed at it with the hatchet. Armor plates fell away from the impact. "Also, you can tell by the way the pilot is moving his Mech. Wannabes usually just blaze away with their weapons, and they often find it difficult to coordinate an attack at those high speeds." She was looking at him, rapt with attention. As the Scarabus came around for another pass-and got hit by two of the Firefly's lasers-she shook her head slightly. "That's amazing. How do you do that?" He regarded her. "Do what?" "You just walked in here, and analyzed the battle in less than thirty seconds. How do you do it?" "Oh. It's my job, like I said." "No," she said giving a little admonishing smirk, "That's why you do it, not how." "Ah." Kevin nodded slowly. "I guess that I just get to recognize the situation quickly. General military tactics." The screen suddenly went blank for a moment. Then the schedule of the next few battles appeared. Kevin leaned over and tapped another man on the shoulder. "Hey, who won?" he asked. The man looked at him. "The Scarabus. Hands down." Proving the man's point another man in a Wolf's Dragoons uniform punched the simpod he had been in hard. "Do you know the pilot's name?" "Uhh... Kaneda Watase, I think." Kevin pulled out his NotePad and jotted the name down. "Thanks!" he said, then turned to the girl again. "Where were we, now?" "You were about to tell me abou..." Her pager interrupted her. She reached down and checked the number. "ComStar HPG...?" she murmured. "Must be a message for you," Kevin offered. "Hmm..." She looked at him. "Well, I would love to continue this conversation but..." she trailed off. "Its not far, and I think that I have what I came for. At least temporarily. I'll walk you there." "Okay." They started out the door. "I didn't catch your name." "Didn't throw it," Kevin replied. She gave a slight laugh. "Lieutenant Kevin Richards." "Well, Lieutenant..." "Please, Kevin will do," he interrupted. "Kevin then. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Kerri Wendingham." "Excuse me." A tall, thin red-haired man interrupted their conversation. Kevin noticed that Kerri jolted as if shot when the man spoke. "Are you Kevin Richards?" the man continued. Kerri shivered slightly. Considering this guy's voice, I don't blame her. Does he take lessons on how to stay absolutely calm? "That depends, are you part of the IRS?" Kevin doubted that either Kerri or the man would get the millennia old joke. The man ignored it anyway. "Of the Richards' Razors?" "That would be me. Can I help you quickly?" "I am interested in joining your unit." A few random thoughts passed through Kevin's head. He was getting an urge to assault the man, though he couldn't determine if it was because the man's voice was flat and emotionless, or because he was annoyed with the man's interruption. Realizing that doing so would probably land him in jail, Kevin just shrugged. "You aren't the first, but how do I know that you won't die at the first sign of a PPC blast?" "I piloted the Firestarter, if that means anything." Immediately Kevin's expression lightened. "Really? You can find the number to contact my unit HQ in the Hiring Hall, and I'm sure that one of my representatives would be glad to help you." "I see. Thank you, Lieutenant." The man turned and walked off. Kerri watched him go. "He could have found the number elsewhere. I didn't like him before, and I don't now." He looked over at her as they resumed walking. "Why's that?" She thought a bit. "He seems to be so cold and calculating. Said his name was Arctic' Kalahan. Apt if you ask me." She gave a slight shiver as if chilled. "Maybe, but he was an excellent fighter. Where do you know him from?" "Oh, I only barely met him when we did a simpod exercise with a merc group earlier. I guess that you fought him to." "What do you pilot?" "A Hollander." Kevin shook his head. "I can't say that I'm familiar with that design." "It's a Gauss Rifle with appendages." Kevin burst out laughing. Kerri frowned at him. "What is it?" she asked. He waited for the tears to clear from his eyes at the outburst. "Oh, so that's our mystery Mech. I must say, you really put my group in a pickle with that Mech of yours." She blinked, as if something was dawning on her. "Oh... that was your company we were fighting? I had no idea. But I'm not really that good of a pilot." "You didn't have to be. The simple fact that you had a Mech that we didn't recognize was plenty enough to throw us off. And by the way that you tore up my Enforcer with that little number slowed us down quite nicely. Only the structure of the Gauss Rifle that causes it to explode from that fall took you out. Almost entirely luck on our part." "There you go again. It's just to amazing to comprehend." "Not really. But here we are." They stopped in front of the ComStar compound. "Better get your message." "Yeah." Kerri started up the steps of the building. "I never like religious zealots. But they got the communication control." "I'll wait here." Kevin sat down on one of the lower steps as she entered. What is it about her? he thought as he waited. Wonder if she's looking... and not for a unit. He pulled out his NotePad and began to unconsciously run through a logistics program. But, romance isn't possible. I'll have to get a contract soon, and if she's coming, I can't get involved wi... "I don't believe this." Kerri stopped beside him. Kevin got up and looked over her shoulder. "What?" "Oh, this complete absolute moron I dated back home. He still thinks that there's some spark, so he sent me a recipe. I like to cook, but this..." She rubbed her eyes and looked very tired. "Ah... Should I beat him up or something?" Kerri looked at him as if he was absolutely insane. Kevin shrugged sheepishly. "Just a suggestion." "No... I've got to get out of here. He'll probably show up to prove his undying love to me. Where do I sign up?" Kevin stammered, surprised at her directness. "Uhhh...." What should I say? he thought No, sorry, I can't accept you because I want a date... Ri-ight. "Right here, I guess," he finally answered, "I'll need your dossier etc., but that's pretty much it." "What? no applications, double written and triple stamped or anything?" Kerri had a hurt looking pout on her face, but the small smile that broke through showed it to be false. "No... I don't need that. I don't need a lot of things that people say you need. Hence my unit name: Richards' Razors." "What's so special about that?" "It's a reference to Occam's Razor. " "And that is?" "It's a philosophic principle developed I think about fifteen hundred years ago, back on Terra. It pretty much says that nothing needs to be complicated, if a simple system works, then that's probably the right one. It was a major argument against the Ptolomaic system of the universe." "What's that?" "It..." Kevin paused, gathering his thoughts. "It was the idea that Terra was at the center of the universe, and everything revolved around it." "That's pretty dumb." Kerri didn't seem to hold the thought in high regard. "I could tell you quite a bit about it, but then all I would have to say to you afterward is 'Get in position and hold' or 'Fire at will.' I don't want that to happen." As he said this something inside screamed at Kevin. What are you DOING??? She's about to join your unit; you cannot get involved. "Ah. I think that I have to get back to work. Find a contract so I can actually pay you and all." Kerri brushed her hair behind her left ear. "Sure. So, where can I reach you?" "What...?" Her eyes widened. I must be looking so transparent, Kevin thought. "To give you the dossier. And move my Mech." "Oh, the Hollander, right. Here." He scribbled the number and address of the apartment on a piece of paper and gave it to her. "You can call at anytime, pretty much, I'll tell Anson or Maddie to help you get situated." "Okay. I guess that I'll see you around..., sir." "Kevin is fine. We're a pretty informal unit. This ain't the Kell Hounds that your joining." Kerri nodded as she walked off. "Fine, Kevin." He watched her go. Hoo boy, are you screwed, Kevin, he thought to himself. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump slightly. Cursing himself at missing a possible threat, he turned toward the person, and saw Alex Dawson. "Well, Captain Dawson, what can I do for you. I am still not going to accept your contract. If it could be called as such." "No, I can see that no one is going to bite. I want to join up. Here's my dossier." Alex handed Kevin a folio. Kevin stared at him as he unconsciously took it. What changed his mind? he wondered. "Have you been following me," he asked the taller man. "Not really." The taller man shook his head. "But I needed to tell you." "So I see. You do realize that if you join, you will lose your rank. I am the only officer in the Razors right now." "Don't see why about that, but yeah, I think that I can live as an NCO." "Yup. That might bring me up to nine. Not a bad day, if I do say so myself. All I need now is a contract." Kevin shrugged. "And a few last things to look into." "Later then, Lieutenant." "Yes. Later. Possibly, sooner as well." "Whatever." Alex walked off, leaving Kevin to gather his thoughts and the rest of his unit. All I need now is a way to make use of this recent good fortune. He glanced at the note he had. Kaneda Watase, are you looking for a unit? Nice Scarabus, if that is your Mech. If I were as good at getting contracts as you are at beating Dragoons, I'd never have a thing to worry about. Stuffing the note back into his pocket, he slowly returned to the apartment, thoughts of contracts, prospects, and relationships on his mind. -------------------------------------------------------------- From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][FanFic] Razors Edge Chapter 4 Brief Author's note: Not too much to note here. Kaneda Watase was originally Kaneda Shimatsu, but I found, later, after checking through one of Robert Charette's books, that Shimatsu was a name of a firearm company in the Draconis Combine. Also Shimazu was the name of a Mechwarrior in Victor Milan's book. BattleTech is tm and (c) FASA Corporation. All characters and situations (c) K. Jeffery Petersen. =Chapter 4= Dropship Wildstar Outbound, Outreach System Chaos March (Distputed Territory) 11 December, 3057 "I know that a few of you wished that we were heading for the Clan Border, and I agree with man of those reasons." Kevin was holding a small conference with the unit in the observing lounge of the Wildstar. "But, for many reasons, not the least being that I didn't want to wait around for a contract putting us on the border to show up, we aren't going to be going very far." He had managed to pick up two new Mechwarriors. Kaneda Watase, who didn't pilot a Scarabus, but a Spector, which Kevin had never heard of before and hadn't got around to asking the quiet Japanese man about it. The other soldier was a man who referred to himself as Anders. Kevin wasn't sure if that was the man's first or last name, or neither, but his dossier showed that he was a very good pilot under pressure in a light Mech. Anders piloted a Koto, the slightly bigger and upgunned version of the venerable Locust. Anders had a very odd paint job, however, one of various neon patters across the armor. The two pilot brothers, Colman and Terrance, who piloted twin Mechbuster fighters, were also there, dominating the far wall with their huge frames. "Uh, boss?" Anson asked, "Where're we headed." "Small planet just inside the Davion side of the Chaos March called Johnathan. We've been hired by the Capellans to bolster their existing forces on the planet and flush out the FedCom guerillas that are on the planet." Anson nodded solemnly. He looked like a kid, but he had know combat for at least two years now. With how volatile the entire Inner Sphere was becoming, and the impending Clan threat, that practically made Anson a veteran. "We will be landing on the planet before we disembark, but things might get hairy, so we will be fully locked in. Got it?" When no one said anything, Kevin continued, "Good. The air lance will be flying cover for us as soon as we enter enough atmosphere, just in case the FedComs have air support. "I have the lance assignments set up, and they will be posted on my cabin door as soon as I get back there. Any questions." Kaneda raised his hand slightly. "Chu-i, what are our Capellan allies forces comprised of?" Kevin sniffed in deeply before answering. "I don't exactly know. There is probably about a regiment of combined arms Capellans on the planet, and I think there's going to be another merc company also incoming, but we haven't been told yet. As to the next question that will be asked, I have no idea as to the Davion forces, but they don't have many BattleMechs." Many of the people in the room nodded at this. In a guerilla campaign, BattleMechs could sometimes be more of a hindrance than a help. "What are the conditionals?" Maddie Winson asked, referring to the payments that weren't actually monetary: salvage, support, and transport. "We get first choice of salvage, and second support. They are paying our dropship cost to and from Jonathan." "So, we go in hot. Meet up with and help the Capellans thrash some Davion rebels, get paid and come back to Outreach. Am I right?" Though his tone of voice was slightly condescending, Anders's posture gave the impression that he really meant the question. Before he could answer one of the brothers, Kevin could never tell which one, commented in his thick Scandinavian accent, "Oh. The boy can understand human speak." "Oh, yah!" his brother answered with a laugh. A few of the mercenaries chuckled while the rest, Kevin included, tried not to smile. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm himself. "You are right, Anders. The contract will run out after five months maximum, but I estimate that we should be on planet less than three." "Cool. When we get through with this mission, Clanners better watch out!" Anders slammed a fist into the other hand to emphasize the point. Kevin frowned at him. "We don't know what is going to happen after this campain. Maybe we will hit the Clan front, maybe not, but that is not the concern right now. We have a contract, and I want all equipment double, triple, hell even quadruple checked for readiness before we touch ground. We have about a week and a half before we hit Jonathan, so we have plenty of time to get ready. Also, I want all Mechs to be painted in camouflage pertinent to the terrain. The planet is mostly light woodlands and grasslands, so tans, browns, muted greens and khakis will be good, but also include some light grey." Ander's face darkened noticeably at the concept of painting his beloved Koto, but if he had a problem, Kevin would be sure to straighten the man out. "That's it for now, get to it, people." *** A knock at Kevin's door brought his mind out of the work he had immersed himself into. Blinking, he wondered in passing at exactly what was so important that he had to be doing it. Shaking his head, he opened the door to his small cubicle. Watase was standing outside patiently at a military rest position. The Japanese man had finely chiseled features and short, glossy, black hair. His build was not exceptionally muscular, but still very athletic. Kevin had never heard the man string more than two sentences together, and that only rarely. "You wished to see me, Chu-i." Watase did not ask a question, but rather stated a fact. One big difference between the Snakes and most other people, Kevin thought. "Yeah. Watase, I just wanted to get some information about your Mech." He let the Asian man enter his room and offered a seat, but Kaneda chose to remain standing. "The Spector is a very good machine." No wavering of voice. Perfectly calm and assuring. "I believe that, but I've never come across the design before. Since it is probably very new, I wanted to make sure that you acquired it by perfectly legitimate reasons." Kevin leaned against the bulkhead and regarded the taller man. "I can assure you, Lieutenant, that my ownership of that BattleMech is perfectly legal." Kevin reflexively rubbed his chin as he thought about the man. What scares me most is that he'll probably be like this in battle. Calm people are far more dangerous than hot-headed ones. "Indulge me, if you will, with the story of it." Taking, a breath, Watase looked like he was formulating his thoughts. "In my last unit, Jackson's Hussars, I originally piloted the Spider that I used during my service to the Draconis Combine. It became rather damaged in an operation against some Periphery pirates while in service to the Free Worlds League. Hearing that Norse-Storm Technologies was selling some brand new BattleMechs, we decided to see what we could afford. Though the Spector was expensive, we could afford it, so we sold the Spider, and bought this one as a replacement. I had owned the old Mech, so the Spector was mostly mine to begin with. When, less than a month ago, Captain Jackson had a major arguement with his other commanding officers, the unit disbanded. I paid the Captain what I could, and told him to keep my remaining pay as the rest." Kevin thought a moment about what Watase had just said. He whistled quietly and said, "Jackson willingly gave up a Mech as good as this Spector?" "That is correct. Captain Jackson pilots an Imp, this light BattleMech is not what he prefers to use." Watase had barely moved throughout the entire conversation. Excellent stamina this man has. "Well, Watase, you've certanly been helpful. Thank you for your time." Kevin stood up and gave the other man permission to leave. Watase was as silent as he reputed his Mech to be while leaving. Kerri Wendingham was waiting outside, about to knock. As the Asian man left, she entered and closed the door. "Is there something I can do for you?" Kevin asked her, as he sat down. She sat down in the second chair of the room. "No, Kevin, I just wanted to see how you were doing." He rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose before answering. "Tired. Slightly annoyed. We are going into a combat zone hot, and I haven't even begun to get us to fight like a unit. We need the contract, but I'm not sure if I can get us out successful... or even alive." "You'll do fine, I'm sure of it." Kerri gave him a consoling pat on the arm. Kevin leaned up on his elbows, and supported his chin with a double fist. "What about you, how are you doing?" She scrunched her nose to good-naturedly show that she could be better. Kevin chuckled silently. There was a slight lull in their conversation until he asked, "How do you think everyone feels about the Lance assignments?" She quirked her lips a little bit before answering. "I doubt that Alex Dawson is happy about not getting a lance command, but Maddie is better for the command anyway. The striker lance seems good, if a bit undergunned. I don't know, but I might get a little worried that the command lance becomes little more than a protective cover for Marcus's Catapult." She paused. "Am I reading it all correctly?" Kevin shrugged. "I honestly don't know. That's why I asked you, to get an outside opinion. I would have liked to have a twelfth Mechwarrior, but we needed to take the contract right now." "Well, I can tell you that I for one am quite glad with my assignment." Kerri smiled endearingly at him. Kevin blew out a long, slow breath. You gotta tell her. And now's the best time. "Kerri," he started. "Yes, Kevin," she prompted when he didn't immediately continue. "I, ah, don't think that we should become... involved." There, it was out. Now he could crown himself an eternal idiot. Kerri looked hurt, but understanding. "I think that I know, but I want you to tell me why." "Troop moral mostly. I, as the unit commander, cannot become involved personally with any of you beyond general friendship. If I did, and any problems arose, I might be blamed for acting with favoritism, which I might have been." She nodded as he said this, indicating that she had thought correctly. "This isn't to say that I don't want to have a relationship," he continued. "You just can't," she finished for him. "It might have been fun." Kevin smiled sadly. "It might. It still might, but it won't be now." Standing up, she visibly changed her demeanor to a lighter vein. "Isn't it about time that you gave an inspection of the troops and equipment, sir?" He glanced sideways at her as they left the small room. "Since when did you become my XO? Last I checked, there wasn't one." "There still isn't. But we drew straws to see who would be the trooper liaison officer for this contract. I came up short." Kevin groaned with a false pain. "Insubordination already? Can't you people at least leave the major decision making to me until we reach the planet?" "Nope! Not in the least." "I was afraid of that." They entered the Mech bay, and began a general checkup on the unit. Damien Roc a Mike Stackpole Fan since 1992 Umi's Champion Nuriko's Honor Guard Yes, Virginia, now Santa Claus is dead Some guy from the SWAT team blew a hole through his head Yes, little friend, now that's his brains on the floor I guess they won't have the fat guy to kick around anymore But now there's no presents for the children's enjoyment And the elves gotta stand in line and file for unemployment And they say Mrs. Claus is on the phone every night With her lawyer negotiating the movie rights -Weird Al, "The Night Santa Went Crazy" -------------------------------------------------------------- From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][FanFic] Razors Edge Chapter 5 Brief Author's Note: When I originally started writing this novel, I had a prologue that was from Alex Dawson's point of view. I later took it out, because it wasn't necessarry. But here's the first chapter that comes from a different POV than Kevin's. Writing this one proved a little difficult. It's hard to write from a Mechwarrior's perspective what's happening here. BattleTech is tm and (c) FASA Corp. All characters and situations (c) K. Jeffery Petersen. =Chapter 5= Dropship Wildstar Inbound, Jonathan System Chaos March (Disputed Territory) 24 December, 3057 The entire company was strapped in tight in their individual cockpits when the first hollow boom sounded around the Mech bay of the Union class dropship. Alex looked up from the book he was reading in the head of his Cicada. The Mech had a blocky ovoid body and stood, like many of its counterparts, about nine meters above the floor of the cargo bay. Another boom, this one accompanied by some slight shaking. Alex opened a commlink. "Lieutenant," he asked, "Got any news on that sound?" "No, Alex. Wait a moment for me to get a bridge report." Kevin paused for a moment. "Sounds like the Davions have some aero support. The Captain says not to worry, damage should be superficial at most." Alex shook his head as another boom sounded. "He's got it easy. He can actually do something about it." More chatter came onto the line as other members of the Razors voiced their opinions. "Why don't the brothers do something about the fighters?" Anders asked with a slight whine. Alex didn't like the man much: he seemed too much like a Solaris fighter. "No can do. We haven't entered atmosphere yet, so the Mechbusters can't fly. The brothers, good as they may be, would probably get pounded trying to fight full line Aerofighters." The booming and shaking had increased in frequency. "I don't like this." That was from Kerri Wendingham. At least she and Lieutenant Richards have stopped that little thing they had going, Alex thought, I just hope that she can actually pilot that walking gun barrel of hers. "Don't worry, Kerri." A bit of chuckling accompanied Kevin's comment. "We're just facing a little opposition. Nothing to get too excited about." "If I may, Lieutenant," Arctic Kalahan interjected. Alex found that he could trust the aloof man more than any other in the unit, but wondered if the Firestarter the man piloted was enough to stand up in a fight. "I believe that I can get us a visual on the opposition." "How's that?" Anson Remele was, in Alex's eyes, too young to be fighting, but Richards, Maddie, Trellan, and Haas stood by the young man's prowess in his Commando which he affectionately called Ping-Pong. "If I have the frequency of the signal coming from the outboard cameras to the bridge, I might be able to get a shaky picture of what's outside. And I think..." Arctic paused for a moment. "Here it is. I can send it through your rear view monitor." Alex punched up his rear view, but instead of being greeted with the wall behind his Cicada he instead saw a grainy image of the outside. At the edge of the view, the planet of Jonathan dominated the side. The edge of the gentle curve was hazy, indicating the atmosphere. It was also getting steadily larger as the Wildstar got steadily closer. Another boom, and the picture shook all around as the ship shuddered from the impact. As he looked harder, Alex could see about three Aerospace fighters, the aerial counterparts of BattleMechs, coming in for another pass. "That's a little opposition," Haas asked incredulously. Alex noted that the other man sounded tired, but was too rapt with the outside view to think about it more. The view changed as Arctic picked up the signal from another camera. In this one, Jonathan's sun dominated and prevented them from discerning anything from the low-quality image. Another change, this mostly empty space, but Alex could discern at least five Aerofighters. Whether or not any of those were the ones he had seen in the first view, he didn't know. There wasn't time to study the picture long, as a fighter came in on a strafing run and destroyed the camera. The ship shuddered along with a boom. "Get me a front view," Kevin commanded, "And relay these imaged to the brothers, if you can." "I'm on it." A muted tapping followed, which Alex assumed to be a keyboard. The view again showed Jonathan, but it was much larger this time. "It's eerie, all that visual, and no sound." Alex squirmed uncomfortably in his chair after Kerri spoke. Not supposed to die while strapped into a Dropship, he thought, Supposed to die in battle. The planet was getting pretty big now, and the ship was starting to shudder with increasing regularity. "We're gonna die!" Anders moaned. "We are not dying. We're just entering the atmosphere." As Kevin spoke, the edges background color changed from the black of space, to a burning red, and eventually to the sky blue usually associated with the sky. "Colman, Terrance, are you getting this?" "Yah. They have bopped us a little good," one of the brothers answered, the other voiced his agreement. "Bopped" is not the term I would have used, Alex thought with a little anger. He, like many Mechwarriors did not like to have a lack of control over their possible demise. They had to place their lives and trust in the crew of the Dropship to get them down safely. After passing into the atmosphere, the flight smoothed out a little. Alex breathed a sigh of relief which was echoed by some of the others. At least that part's over, he thought, Now we just need to get to the ground. There was a massive crash, and Alex heard a hissing. "What's that," he asked. "It's not coming from the comm channel," Trellan answered. "It's the external speakers!" Anson shouted. Haas finished for him, "They got a hull breach." "At least we got in the atmosphere before it happened," Maddie Winson added, "I wonder if the Capellans knew that the FedComs had this much aero response." The woman was of a fairly indeterminate age, as far as Alex could tell. Her record didn't show any outstanding merits, but Kevin had said that she never buckled under pressure. Kevin supplied some information, "The initial report didn't say anything about Davion aerospace support. We might assume that they arrived in system sometime recently." Nobody said anything as the surface of the planet got steadily larger. The sounds of the Aerospace fighters could be heard: the roar of the engines, rumbling clicking of the autocannon, and the scream of incoming missiles. "Or the Caps didn't tell us about em," Anders finally said in a sour voice. "The damage has to be pretty severe by now. Are you sure we are going to make it?" Maddie asked. Alex began to wonder himself. "Don't all you people worry anymore. Colman and I will be leaving you to make sure you get to the ground safely," Terrance announced. There were two thumps as the Mechbuster fighters left the dropship. "Yeah, sure. Just leave us to die here," Anders spat. "None of that, Anders!" Kevin snapped, "We're a unit, and the brothers will fight as part of it like everyone else." As if to prove his point, the shaking of the dropship dropped off somewhat as Colman and Terrance began to engage the enemy fighters. "Uh, boss?" Anson asked. The brothers were darting to and fro among the FedCom units; they were better pilots, but were obviously outmatched by superior numbers and technology. "What is it?" The shuddering suddenly stopped as the enemy fighters broke off. Cheering erupted from the speakers at their good fortune. Anson waited for it to subside before continuing. "Isn't the ground getting a little large?" "It does that when you land, you know," Anders shot derogatorily. "No. I mean shouldn't we have turned for the final descent by now? Spheroids don't come in for a runway type landing." Someone gasped. Alex himself had a sharp intake of breath. "Stay calm while I..." he paused. "Alex," Kevin said with a wry tone of voice. "I do believe that I am in charge. I'll ask the bridge what's going on." There was a silence except for the rushing air as Kevin attempted to contact the crew of the Dropship. "Nothing," he said as he came back on. "Probably took a direct hit to the bridge. Looks like we have to ride this one out." "That's nuts! We're aimed directly for a planet, there's no way we can survive this!" Anders's voice took on a slight whine. It was Haas who disagreed with him. "We're on a more horizontal course than that, we should skid to a stop, if we hit land." "Well can't we just bail out? I sure as hell ain't gonna stay here if I don't have to." "And how do you plan to do that?" asked Alex tersly, "In case you hadn't noticed, we are a little stuck in at the moment, and by the time you got out, we'd have hit ground anyway. Sit tight, and hope for the best." He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. This is going to really hurt. No one else said anything for what felt like an eternity as the planet grew ominously large. "I don't know what's worse," said Trellan, finally breaking the silence. "Seeing out there or not." Nobody commented on that. "I do not see the pilots, Lieutenant," announced Marcus Wu, the Catapult pilot. "They probably went to the LZ to tell the Caps about our slight predicament." Throughout the entire ordeal, Kevin had sounded very calm. I sounded like that back on Kobe, Alex thought, Would I sound like it now? The features of the surface were beginning to get clearer, but the graininess of the picture prevented them from noticing any features, had their speed been slow enough to discern anything. "Better get ready to brace for it," advised Kevin. The roar of the Wildstar's four engines had been growing steadily louder as they got deeper in the atmosphere, by now it was almost deafening. Because of it, any additional comment was lost in the din. Alex stared at the small screen as the Dropship dipped lower and lower. The first trees that they hit didn't do anything to impede the momentum of the massive spaceship, but the downward pull of gravity quickly pulled it to the point where the hull was breaking through trees regularly. Then they bounced laterally for the first time. The deep crash sounded throughout the ship and slammed Alex deep into his control chair. He tried to focus on the screen, but was being jostled around too much by the shaking ship. A dark streak on the ground went by with the second bounce, accompanied by a piercing scraping sound. Alex would have shuddered if he could have. The third bounce started the ship into a slow rotation around its axis. After that, Alex began to get a headache and lost count. Soon after the camera was damaged and the picture shorted out. Crashes began to emit from the Mech bay, but it was so dark that he couldn't see anything. After another few bounces, Alex was slammed suddenly into the side of the chair. Must be turning. Something fell in the Mechbay, followed by a loud scream over the commlink, but Alex couldn't tell who it came from. Suddenly the roaring of the engines stopped. Almost immediately afterward so did the bounces, and there was a scream of metal as the Wildstar skidded to a jolting halt. Alex was hanging into his straps at this time, but he just hung there comprehending what had happened. I'm alive! he thought. I'm alive! Happily he drunk in the pleasure of life. "Anyone else survive that?" Arctic asked. Alex blinked a few times; the other human voice sounded like that of the agent of death, coming to take his soul. "It would see, Mr. Kalahan," said Watase, the Japanese man, speaking for the very first time during the ordeal. "That we have survived our descent relatively intact." "Everyone, get out of your Mechs if you can to assess the damage. We'll need to get anything that's useful together and look at our options," Richards ordered. They had survived, but now work needed to be done. Damien Roc a Mike Stackpole Fan since 1992 Umi's Champion Nuriko's Honor Guard Yes, Virginia, now Santa Claus is dead Some guy from the SWAT team blew a hole through his head Yes, little friend, now that's his brains on the floor I guess they won't have the fat guy to kick around anymore But now there's no presents for the children's enjoyment And the elves gotta stand in line and file for unemployment And they say Mrs. Claus is on the phone every night With her lawyer negotiating the movie rights -Weird Al, "The Night Santa Went Crazy" -------------------------------------------------------------- From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][FanFic] Razors Edge Chapter 6 Brief Author's note: The first half of this was an attempt at both characterization and desciption of a series of actions. I find battle scenes to be fairly easy to write (whether in mecha or in space combat) but some more simple, human things, are harder to describe, for some reason. BattleTech is tm and (c) FASA Corp. All characters and situations (c) K. Jeffery Petersen =Chapter 6= Dropship Wildstar Crash Site, Jonathan Chaos March (Disputed Territory) 24 December, 3057 Anson Remele breathed out a long breath he didn't know he was holding. Blinking a few times to try and clear the darkness, he keyed on the commlink. "What a way to spend Christmas, huh, boss?" Lieutenant Richards answered him with a slight chuckle. "Right. Razors, we need an assessment of our damage. Also we need a list of supplies." "Uh, who can actually get out of their Mechs?" Lance Sergant Trellan asked, "I know that I can't." One of the new guys, Alex Dawson, answered, "I can't either, I think that I'm on top... so to speak." "Just a moment while I get us some light." That was another new one. Kalahan. Anson hadn't seen the man show any emotion yet, but wasn't sure if that was why he called himself "Arctic." It also could be the red-haired man's Mech, a Firestarter which was called Absolute Zero. Funny name for a Mech, Anson thought, Especially a Firestarter. Gimme Ping-Pong any day. Ping-Pong was the name he had given his Commando. There was a small spurt of flame, then one of the Firestarter's flamers sprang to life. The yellow-white flame formed a five meter blaze of light that licked at the shadows it created. Ever-changing, rainbow-colored spots splattered across Anson's vision, he tried to shut his eyes, but after the darkness, he was temporarily blinded. "I think that I can get out," he announced after his vision cleared. "I'm on the bottom." He undid the straps to his control chair and lifted the bulky neuro-helmet off of his head. Then he scrambled backwards to the Commando's hatch. It didn't open the entire way, but Anson wasn't a large man, so he could make it. He shinnied out from under the 25 ton machine, scraping his back while doing so, and looked around the Wildstar's Mech bay. Almost directly above him, a 40 ton Cicada hung from its moorings. He whistled quietly as he quickly assessed the damage. Most of the Mechs were still in their holding areas, but one had fallen loose. Haas's 30 Javalin had fallen onto Anders' Koto. The Large Pulse laser of the spindly legged mech was crumpled into the area right below the head, but of the Javalin, he couldn't tell what the extent of the damage was. "Haas?" he asked. No answer. "What's the extent of the damage, Anson?" Richards asked. Anson ingnored him. "Haas?" he cried in a worried tone as he scrambled over to the entangled Koto and Javalin. "Anson? What is your assesment of the damages?" Anson climbed up onto the Koto and looked at the head of the Javalin. The light from the flamer didn't shine very well in the shadow, but he saw enough to know that the Cockpit had been badly dented. And he smelled something. Blood. Reaching up, Anson traced his fingers along the dented visor. At one of the cracks, his fingers came up warm and wet. Placing them under his nose he sniffed again; the same smell but stronger. He dabbed a little bit on the end of his tongue. The tangy, salty taste. "Striker Three? Report please." Richards's voice had taken on a softer but sterner tone. "Boss, Haas took some damage to his Javalin's head, he's at least bleeding." Anson's voice almost cracked. "What did he run into?" Anson looked down at what he was standing on. "The Koto." "Can you tell how Ander's is?" "Lieutenant, I'm going to have to shut this flamer off soon, My engine isn't running, so I'm burning the emergency fuel," Kalahan interjected. "Understood. Anson, I need you to get an emergency light out of a Mech," Richards said. "Okay. I'm on top of the Koto." "They've got a top mounted hatch, same as a Locust. And the emergency locker should be right by that on the inside." Anson jumped to the floor, which was really the curved side of the Dropship. He pulled the emergency release to the hatch and heard a quick hiss as the pressure equalized on both sides of the door. He slowly lowered the hatch and jumped on top of it to feel on the inside. There was a small knob, which he twisted. Various emergency supplies tumbled out onto his lap: medipaks, matches, some rations, and what he was looking for. Light sticks. "Okay!" he called as he picked one up and snapped it. Kalahan shut the flamer off and Anson shook the stick to get the chemical reaction working. Pale red light bathed the surrounding area, which he used to check out the open cockpit of the Koto. A slight moan emitted from Anders. Anson looked closely, but the man appeared to be unconscious. He couldn't see Anders's body totally, but the Koto pilot was obviously hurt from the impact. "Boss, Anders looks hurt, but I can't tell how." He picked up some more of the light sticks and traversed back to his Commando. "Right. Can you get anyone else out?" Anson looked around him, the Koto was on his left, and Maddie's Wolfhound was on his right, all other Mechs were out of possible reach. "I might be able to get Maddie out, but I don't know," he answered. "Hmm. How about a bay door?" Anson looked around for one. "I can't see one with this light. But I could get my Mech running and then try." "Cold start, kid?" Dawson asked from high above. "I've got time," answered Anson. He climbed back into Ping-Pong and keyed in the slow warm-up for the engine. A deep rumbling started coming from the heart of the BattleMech. It would take about ten minutes for it to totally warm up, so he got out again to check up on the rest of the ship. He climbed up over the Koto and onto Haas' Javalin and opened the hatch. He glanced in and a wave of nausea washed over him. Pulling himself out of the battered cockpit, he said, "Boss, Haas is dead." *** Anson Remele had piloted a BattleMech for the first time when he was sixteen. A Capellan raid against his home planet had been carried out by a company of mercenaries. One particularly sadistic Urbanmech pilot chased after the populace of his home town. His family had been killed, but he managed to climb onto and disable the Mech by taking out the pilot. With most of the populace of his town dead, Anson didn't have anywhere to turn. He quickly taught himself to pilot the Urbanmech, but in his first taste of combat, an enemy Mech all but completely decimated the slow BattleMech. The victory was sour for his opponent, because a Federated Commonwealth unit happened to get on planet in time to destroy the raiders. A lance found Anson trapped in the cockpit of the Urbanmech but unhurt. Looking at the battle ROMs, a mechwarrior in that lance had seen Anson's potential in battle, so took the youth under his wing. Thus, Anson Remele had met Derek Haas and they began a strong friendship. Since Anson couldn't join the AFFC immediately, Haas had resigned his commission, and the two of them eventually came into the employ of one Lieutenant Kevin Richards. And now Haas was dead. Anson had lost his family, but two things had kept the emotions down initially: his own life was at stake and he had a very firm idea at who the "bad guys" were. Here he didn't. Nothing was immediately wrong. He could actually think about what was happening. Everything that had happened to him two years ago seemed to hit him at that exact moment. Anson couldn't take it anymore, so he balled up and started crying. Which was exactly where Kerri Wendingham and Kaneda Watase, the only other pilots who had gotten out of their cockpits, found him. *** Kevin sipped a mug of horrible tasting coffee as he glanced around the Mech bay for the umpteenth time. He glanced at the eight Mechs that were fastened to the sides in an octagonal pattern around the circular edge. Nearer to the center of the bay were four more places to hold Battlemechs, but only two of these were occupied; by Kerri's Hollander, and Watase's Spector. Looking down to where Haas's Javalin had fallen on Ander's Koto, an idle thought crossed his mind. That's a good twelve meter drop from their Mechs to Haas's, and the didn't use rope. He didn't know what sort of training Watase had gotten in the Combine, but Kevin could understand the man getting some sort of acrobatic and martial art training which might cover long falls, but he couldn't see Kerri doing that stuff. Have to ask her later. Sighing, he got up and walked over to where Kerri and Anson were sitting. The company, at least the part that were able to get out of their Mechs, had transformed the lower portion of the Dropship into a makeshift camp. They had placed burning rags around the bay at various places to illuminate the area and had managed to clear out a few areas to sleep on without impaling themselves on some stray shrapnel. By the time Kevin had been able to get out of his Mech, Anson had almost gotten over the initial shock from finding his friend dead. And not in battle, the kid probably could have handled that. Kerri was still consoling the young man, apparently taking on the big sister role. Besides Haas's death, the initial damage report wasn't good. Anders' legs had just about been crushed from the collision, the front of the shins had been partially shattered, but none of the fragments seemed to have done any additional damage. Maddie's Wolfhound had taken some damage to the head, and the communications array was completely shot. The entire crew of the Wildstar had been killed. And Alex Dawson, Trellan, and Marcus were still stuck in their Mechs, about twenty five meter's above Kevin's head. And I have absolutely no idea how to get them down. I can't scale a ceiling. "Chu-i, Kalahan-san and I have completed our surveys of the situation for the Dropship," Watase announced quietly behind Kevin, startling him. Didn't even here either of them approach, he though turning toward the two men. "And what did you come up with?" Kevin asked. "Well, I hope we can do without a few essentials," answered Kalahan. "Such as?" "Food in the long run. Showers and other necessities' in the short." From any other person, the words might have been accompanied with a smile, but not Arctic Kalahan. The tall man lived up to his nickname with a vengeance. "Food. What about the ship's stores?" Kevin wasn't worried, yet. The company could survive on emergency rations for at least another week if they stretched it a bit. Kalahan smiled, but not the sort of smile any person would like to be shown. "The only thing that might have been edible in the galley was the cook. Spread across the walls." Kevin shuddered. "Some impact." "You could say that." "How is young Anson coming along, Chu-i?" Watase asked. The trio looked over at where the young man was speaking to Kerri. "I think that Kerri's helping him better than I could." Maddie approached them from the outside. "Well, troops, outside it's really dark, and I can't see any settlements anywhere around," she quickly reported. "Really, anything we can use out there?" asked Kevin. "Put it this way. The only thing we don't need right now is replacement armor." She chuckled quietly. "Kevin?" "Yes?" He rubbed his eyes wearily as he looked at her. "How long is the day here? Its been about eighteen hours since we crashed, and it's not getting any lighter." Kevin shut his eyes as he tried to remember from the briefing he had scanned over. "I'm not sure, but I think that it's over a hundred hours. Why?" "Just wondering. Any idea how to get the others down, they're probably getting mighty hungry." Maddie looked up at the three occupied Mechs on the ceiling. "I could get them some food," Watase offered. Kevin shook his head. "No, if you get hurt, that'll be three casualties, and they still will be stuck up there. We'll figure something out." "I certainly hope so, Kevin," said Maddie, "Because I sure would hate for them to die of starvation." "They have emergency rations for a few days at least, so we shouldn't worry about them immediately." Kevin paused as he again glanced at Alex Dawson's BattleMech. "But we will get them down. Some way." "I checked out the bridge," Kalahan said, "Looked like it took a direct hit. Only remains I found were some charred skeletons." Kevin shuddered. "Okay. Right now, I want any Mechs we can get out of this bay outside. And any possible little thing we can use, get it in here." "What about the Koto and Javalin?" Maddie asked. Kevin rubbed his chin as he thought. "We get Haas's remains out of there and give him a burial. Then we see what we can get outta them." "And Anders-san?" asked Watase. "For the moment," Kevin said, rubbing his eyes, "He stays where he is. We'll figure out some sort of stretcher later." "Hai!" Damien Roc a Mike Stackpole Fan since 1992 Umi's Champion Nuriko's Honor Guard Yes, Virginia, now Santa Claus is dead Some guy from the SWAT team blew a hole through his head Yes, little friend, now that's his brains on the floor I guess they won't have the fat guy to kick around anymore But now there's no presents for the children's enjoyment And the elves gotta stand in line and file for unemployment And they say Mrs. Claus is on the phone every night With her lawyer negotiating the movie rights -Weird Al, "The Night Santa Went Crazy" -------------------------------------------------------------- From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][FanFic] Razors Edge Chapter 7 Brief Author's Note: About the most remarkable thing here is that I attempted to create my own part of the BattleTech universe in regards to how technology works there. ^_^ BattleTech is tm and (c) FASA Corp. All characters and situations (c) K. Jeffery Petersen. =Chapter 7= Dropship Wildstar Crash Site, Jonathan Chaos March (Disputed Territory) 25 December, 3057 The cockpit of the Commando was quickly becoming hot and stuffy, so Kerri Wendingham popped the rear hatch to let the cool air of Jonathan's night mix with the sweaty air in a rushing, whirling torrent. Inhaling deeply, she moved back into the command couch and struggled to get comfortable in her cooling vest. The thick, cold liquid coursed through its huge veins across her torso like a boa constricting its prey. The coolant only slightly countered the heat generated by the fusion engine below her in the humanoid Commando's torso. Normally the Mech shouldn't be this hot in the cockpit when it's running on idle, she thought, Something must have happened to the heat sinks during the crash. Behind the twenty-five ton machine the Wildstar lay on its side in the middle of the large plain they had landed in. The Dropship had originally been a rough spherical shape, but the crash had flattened the side it was resting on a bit. Looking down the path they had come, Kerri saw a long skid where the hull of the ship had turned up the earth for about a klick. Arctic Kalahan had guessed that they had bounced for more than fifty kilometers before that. Around the crash site, small plates of armor were strewn about, some imbedded in the ground. The damage amazed Kerri. It looked as if a child had tossed the Dropship a little too hard then kicked it across the landscape. She brushed her blond hair out of her eyes as she checked the scanners again. The Razors had managed to get Anson's Mech out of the Wildstar, and were taking turns running a watch for any sign of life with its powerful sensors. Kerri would have preferred Maddie's Wolfhound or, better yet, her own Hollander, but the first had taken damage to the sensors and communications system, and the Hollander was at the moment tied down twelve meters above the ground. So Anson's Ping-Pong would have to do. She thought about the young man she had recently met. As far as Kerri knew, he had just recently lost the last person he had been close to when Derek Haas had died during the impact. Though she had not gotten to know Anson well, she did see a strong passion in him. She did not envy anyone who had anything to do with causing the crash if Anson found out about them. Kerri could understand that mindset, it happened often in MechWarriors, what did surprise her was how young Anson had started piloting a Mech. He had more combat experience than some seasoned veterans, and he wasn't even twenty yet. At age twenty, Kerri had never even set foot in a BattleMech. A slow circuit around the Wildstar brought up exactly the information she expected. Nothing. Pulling the Commando to a halt, she settled back down for her five hour shift. She knew that inside the Dropship Maddie, Kevin, and Watase would probably be trying to get the last three MechWarriors out of their machines. Anson and Kalahan would have immersed themselves in the remains of the Javalin and Koto to try and repair the damage to the other nine Mechs, only four of which were in any access to be repaired anyway: the Enforcer, Wolfhound, Commando, and Firestarter. Until the company received some help, they were going to have trouble getting ready for combat. "Well, Miss Wendingham," Alex Dawson suddenly said over the comm, "Are you enjoying yourself right now." Kerri keyed the contact open. "Oh, just fine right now," she answered, "And you?" Alex exhaled a long breath before replying. "I guess as well as a person can be when they've been hanging by their restraining straps for about 24 hours." "Are you in pain at all?" "I can't feel anything anymore," answered Alex, "My entire body's asleep." "You should be, too," Kerri chided him, "You do have a slight limit on your immediate resources." "No. No. I can't sleep, or eat." He paused. "I'm almost ready to jump down myself." Kerri chuckled. "Not a very good survival trait, considering the drop from your Cicada." "Watase made the drop," Alex commented. She shrugged. "He's probably had training." "So did you," he added, his voice taking on a bit of an edge. He doesn't quite trust me. "I used to do gymnastics back home." Though she tried to fight it, Kerri heard her voice become defensive. "Hmm." Alex didn't say anything more. Kerri accepted the conversation as over. *** At first, she didn't notice the anomalies. The watch got boring rather quickly, and Kerri began to doze a bit in the chair. She knew it was dangerous, but she set the computer to notify her if anything happened. When the muted tone started, she opened her eyes and palmed it off. Stretching, she assumed that her shift was over, but a quick glance at the chronometer assured her of otherwise. A quick glance at the EM sensor didn't show anything either. She scratched her head, confused, and then opened a comm channel to the small radio they had inside. "Yeah?" Kevin asked from the other end. He sounded as if he had been sleeping. That makes two of us, Kerri thought. "I think something might be wrong with Anson's sensors. I set the computer to notify me if it detected anything, but nothings showing up." Kerri thought that she could almost see Kevin's grin as he spoke again. "Sleeping on the job, Kerri?" he asked, "But it's possible, we didn't really check over the Commando before we put it out there." She mulled over what this would imply. If the sensors on the Mech weren't working, then they really couldn't be sure if anything was approaching before an attack started, unless someone saw the enemy first. And since there was at least fifty hours of night-time left, that was a slim chance at best. "Send Arctic up here," she advised, "He's pretty good at the computer stuff." "As we saw from his performance during the crash. Good idea, Kerri. Razor One out." Kevin's shift into a total military role startled Kerri as the comm went silent. Probably means he's just getting ready for a potential problem. Hope it keeps us a little safer. She didn't know what to think about her commanding officer after he had severed their relationship. She understood why, but that didn't mean she had to like it. About five minutes later Kalahan was squeezing his tall form into the cramped cockpit. He leaned over Kerri's shoulder and looked at the control panel before speaking. "I might have to pull it apart." His emotionless voice sent shivers up her spine. "I can take over for you here." Nodding, she undid the restraining straps and unhooked the cooling vest. "Where's Anson," she asked as she shimmied around him. "I think he's asleep, but he might be talking to Watase." Kalahan didn't look at her, but leaned down over the control chair and twisted himself around to look at the computer circuitry. He pushed himself up again after glancing around for a few seconds. "I can't see anything yet, but that doesn't mean there's not a problem." He quickly stripped to the waist and pulled some tools out of a thigh pocket. Leaning back down again, Kalahan got to work. As she climbed down from Ping-Pong's cockpit, Kerri found herself thinking about the man she had just left up there. She guessed that Kalahan was about her age of twenty-four, or maybe even a little younger, but his completely cold demeanor made him seem much older. More like that of Maddie. Kerri wasn't sure about the other woman's age, but Maddie was surely at least forty-five, and had seen many years of combat. If Kalahan had acted at least a little normally, Kerri imagined that he would be one of those lanky, unkempt types that fiddled with their Mechs a little too much and was a bit short in the social department. While Arctic was at least a competent tech, he also always seemed to be in a position of control socially. No one could cause the man to lose his cool. By the time Kerri got her cooling vest off and some warmer clothes on, Kalahan had the answer. Watase approached her as she left her make- shift sleeping quarters. "Kalahan had discovered the source of the error, Kerri-san," he said. Kerri brushed her hair back and put on a baseball cap. She felt annoyed at how dirty her hair had become. "Oh?" Her face took on a slightly surprised expression. "What happened?" The Asian man gave a half-smile. "I believe that he wishes to tell you himself." When Kalahan began to talk to her over the commlink, Kerri thought that the man might have actually been grinning as he described the situation, but couldn't bring herself to imagine that happening. "We should have asked Anson about the system makeup of a Commando before we got all worried about what was wrong with the computer. It would've saved us a lot of trouble." "Was anything wrong?" God! Does the man ever express himself? Arctic didn't pause. "No. Not anything we could repair anyway." Kerri sat down next to the radio as they spoke. "So what happened?" "You didn't switch the view." "What view?" She had been sure that she had been looking at the radial sensor map, showing a circular area centered on the Mech. "It all has to do with the way the sensor's are run. I don't know why, but unlike most Mechs, the Commando doesn't have a triple-overlay secondary sensor monitor." "Triple-overlay?" "Your Hollander and my Firestarter have three types of sensors blended into one for the secondary monitor: Electromagnetic, Infrared, and visual. This makes sure that anything the computer detects is usually immediately brought to the pilot's attention." "Why only usually?" asked Kerri. "Sometimes you can only find a Mech by kinetic or straight visual because of better countermeasures. Watase's Spector is probably the best example of that, try finding him if he's hiding. Won't be easy. "But the Commando is a little different," Kalahan continued, "Since its primary weapons are missiles, it does away with a lot of the sensor clutter associated with the triple systems by setting the monitor to correspond with the tracking systems of the missile warheads. Usually the missiles are kept basic to lower costs, but you can get heat-seeking loads. "Anson didn't have anything special in there, so the computer was set to show whatever dangers would be for the Mech..." "That would usually be another Mech," Kerri interrupted. He continued, "Yes. So it was showing the EM sensor readout. That would find a Mech or vehicle really well, but would miss infantry, unless they had had a lot of high power gear." "But the computer still detected them, and sought to notify me about it." Kerri drew all the pieces together. It wasn't much of a mental feat, but it felt good to figure something out anyway. "I didn't see anything on the monitor, so I thought it was a malfunction." "Right, but no harm done, really. I toggled it over to IR, and got about five platoons of infantry bearing down on us. Should be here in a few hours." "Why doesn't the monitor show more than one sensor scan?" asked Kerri. "I don't really know. You might ask Anson." "Right. Are you going to finish my shift?" There was a pause before Kalahan answered. "Yes, since I'm already here, but alert the Lieutenant." Kerri switched off the radio and set out to find Kevin. "Estimated five platoons?" he asked after she found him. Kerri nodded. Kevin rubbed the straggly beard he was growing as he thought. "We only have the Commando up, but I think we can get Maddie's Wolfhound running, except for the communications array." Kerri raised her hand slightly and Kevin paused. "I think that Arctic could get the system up by cannibalizing parts from the Javalin or Koto." Kevin nodded. "Right, get working on that with Kalahan, and tell Maddie and Anson to get some sleep, since they are the only ones who can pilot the Mechs well, I want them rested. I'll put Watase on guard for now." "Right, sir." Turning quickly, Kerri jogged over to where Anson was resting and jogged him awake. Anson blinked his eyes a few times and rubbed them before focusing on her. "Wow," he said quietly, "Dreams do come true." Kerri smiled at him. "I just came to tell you that you need to get some sleep." His forehead furrowed as he processed the information. "I was already doing that." "I also had to ask you something, and tell you the situation." Propping himself up on his elbows, Anson asked, "What's up?" "Five platoons of infantry are incoming. You and Maddie Winson are going to be our protection." Anson shook his head. "Won't work. Ping-Pong and a Wolfhound won't do jack against five platoons before they pick us apart." "Doesn't matter, really, they probably won't fight at the sight of the Mechs." Kerri stood up. "Well, get some sleep." She turned to walk away, but Anson's voice stopped her. "What was your question?" he asked. She turned back around. "Oh, I was just wondering something about the Commando's secondary sensor monitor. Unlike most Mechs it doesn't show all the sensor forms. Do you know why?" Anson leaned back. "Nope." He turned over and didn't add anything. Kerri stared after him for a moment, then shrugged and turned away. "I believe, Kerri-san, that I may be of assistance in answering your question," Watase said from behind. Kerri barely kept herself from jumping forward at the sound of his voice. She kept her face calm as she turned to face him. "And what would that be?" she asked. Watase gave a half smile. "It is rather obvious, if you understand the reasoning behind the Commando's design." "Really?" "Yes. The Steiner military might tell you it is because of some design problems they have with the sensor feed to the monitor, but the truth is that the Lyran military has never been the best." "So?" "During the early years of its use, many new pilots of Commandos would make mistakes because they were not able to mentally filter out the excess information from the monitor. They didn't have the training that most of us have. In an effort to counteract this, the Lyran military ordered Corean Enterprises to change the feed system only allowing one sensor readout to be displayed. Usually the form for the missile targeting system, but the pilot could change it at will." "Did it work?" "The Commando is still a viable unit to use." Kerri nodded. "How did you get to know this. You're from the Combine, and not even Arctic knows about this. He's from Tharkad." "A sensei of mine once told me 'Know everything about your enemy. Nothing is trivial in war.' I'm not sure if he took it from some ancient philosopher or if they were his own words, but they are valuable in any case." Watase turned heel and exited the Dropship to relieve Kalahan of the sentry duty. Kerri pondered the Asian man's words as she sought out Maddie to relay the orders. -- a Mike Stackpole Fan since 1992 Umi's Champion Nuriko's Honor Guard Yes, Virginia, now Santa Claus is dead Some guy from the SWAT team blew a hole through his head Yes, little friend, now that's his brains on the floor I guess they won't have the fat guy to kick around anymore But now there's no presents for the children's enjoyment And the elves gotta stand in line and file for unemployment And they say Mrs. Claus is on the phone every night With her lawyer negotiating the movie rights -Weird Al, "The Night Santa Went Crazy" -------------------------------------------------------------- From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][FanFic] Razors Edge Chapter 8 Brief Author's Note: While checking the chapters on my computer against the hard copy of the novel, I noticed that a few chapters were missing, starting with this one. Ten, in fact. Fixing the situation required searching through my closet for my Macintosh (what the novel was originally written on) pulling it out, firing it up and saving all the missing chapters as text files, using ANOTHER Mac to transfer them all over to a PC disk, then finally putting them on my PC. *sigh* I did not do any medical research before writing this chapter. It probably shows. BattleTech is tm and (c) FASA Corp. All characters and situations (c) K. Jeffery Petersen =Chapter 8= Dropship Wildstar Crash Site, Jonathan Chaos March (Disputed Territory) 26 December, 3058 "Are we glad you guys finally showed up!" The first words out of the infantry commander's mouth threw Kevin off guard. This conversely caused Kevin to be even more wary of the infantry. Only one platoon was currently in view of the Dropship, but the other four lurked somewhere just out of sight. The radio feed coming into Kevin's left ear from Anson confirmed this. He took a step forward. "Why's that?" he asked warily. The infantry commander looked surprised at the question. "ComStar must've sent out the word about a month ago. We've been waiting for someone to show since then." The foot soldiers were disheveled and unkempt, but obviously experienced. They spread out and covered each other, but shied away from the two towering BattleMechs. How anyone should react, I suppose, Kevin thought. What had surprised him most was the uniforms of the soldiers. Despite the dirt and grime, the right shoulders unmistakably showed a metallic fist over a starburst pattern-the symbol of the Federated Commonwealth. Kevin knew that technically, the FedCom forces were the enemy, but apparently the infantry commander didn't know that about the Razors. "Don't you know who hired us?" Kevin asked. The commander waved away the question, "Sure, sure. Things run a little differently here. We all gotta work together." Maybe he does know. Kevin turned and looked back at the other three members that were with him. "Caps and Davs working together?" he mouthed silently. "Chaos March," Kerri mouthed back with shrug. Strange bedfellows, Kevin thought turning back to the infantry, Who's to argue? "How far's your base?" he asked. "We've got a mobile HQ about thirty klicks from here. If we set out immediately, we can be there by morning." The infantry relaxed slightly, and Kevin felt a bit of tension relieve itself from his back. "Not possible to leave immediately, and we might be slowed down a bit; we've got one injured from the crash." "Only one injured?" the commander asked, surprised. "You must be the luckiest damn mercenaries this side of the Kell Hounds." The man climbed up the wreckage towards Kevin, stopping short about two meters away. "But why the delay?" Kevin gestured back to the interior of the Dropship. "We've got three Mechs that are stuck on the ceiling, and we can't get the pilots down. Also, four of our other Mechs are stuck. And we have one dead, besides the crew of the Dropship." The infantryman looked thoughtful for a moment. Kevin studied the man, and was surprised to discover that the Davion was rather young, only about twenty-five. Kevin would have put his age at about forty. "We can probably get the pilots down, but the Mechs will have to wait 'til later, I'm not sure when." "Couldn't someone just come and get them before we do?" The other man gave a kind of shrugging-nod. "Well, yes, but I wouldn't put the chances of that happening too high. While almost this entire side of the planet saw you guys go down, I sincerely doubt that anyone would believe anything'd survive." He paused and smiled in a knowing way. "And, since we got to the possible salvage, I don't think that anyone wants to waste any resources fighting for a possible nothing." Kevin nodded, agreeing. "Well, then I'm very pleased to meet you," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Lieutenant Kevin Richards. The Richards' Razors." The man took the hand and pumped warmly. "Field Captain Max Werner. First Jonathan Infantry. Did your Captain die in the crash." Smiling, Kevin released Werner's hand and turned toward the Dropship. "No. There isn't a Captain. I'm the only officer in the Razors." Werner looked confused, but Kevin didn't want to go into the explanation. "Shall we get my men out?" "By all means." Werner turned toward the infantry and made a fast flurry of hand signals. A few of the men also made some signals to the undergrowth, and over a hundred foot soldiers materialized from the fauna. *** Werner surveyed the interior of the Wildstar with Kevin and let out a small whistle. "I don't know how you guys did it. But I sure'm happy that it was you, and not me." A few of the infantrymen had taken up defensive positions, but the majority of them were working with the Razors to get as many of the remaining supplies and equipment ready for transport. Even though most of the items in the Dropship would not be moved immediately, if everything was ready, then when they did return, the Razors could move out again quickly. Or it'll make it easier for anyone who decides to drop by to take what they want, Kevin thought cynically. One of the infantrymen approach Werner and whispered something in the Field Captain's ear. The man stood back and Werner waved him off. Kevin gave the younger man a quizzical look, and Werner started laughing softly. "What?" asked Kevin. "Oh, I think that we can get your BattleMechs out." "Really, without any supporting equipment. How?" Kevin had thought over the many ways that the Mechs could be removed from the Dropship, but had not found a possibility that was both feasible and somewhat safe for both the pilots and the Mechs. "We can release their holdings. They'll just drop to the floor. After everything else is cleared out, we can have them down in less than an hour." Kevin shook his head vigorously. "Absolutely not. The fall could damage the Mechs irreparably. We'll just get the pilots out, and come back for them later when we have proper equipment." He crossed his arms, signifying that there was not any room for negotiation on the subject. Werner didn't argue. "I'm afraid to say that that won't be possible, Kevin." Kerri's voice held an arguing tone, however. They two men turned toward her as she eased a shaky and pale looking Marcus Wu to the ground. The Chinese man tried to stand, but failed and slowly lowered his body to sit on the metal floor. Kevin noticed that Werner stiffened slightly at the sight of Marcus, but chose to ignore it for the moment. "Why's that?" Kevin kept his voice controlled and easy, but gave the woman a look telling her that she was out of line. Kerri took it in stride. "It's Dawson. We can't get him out without releasing the Cicada. The hatch won't open." All three of them looked up toward the boxy Mech high above their heads. Letting his expression ease, Kevin said, "Can't we just loosen it a little, so he can get out." Kerri shrugged. "We could, but the man's been sitting in one position, hanging actually, for almost three standard days. We don't even know if he can walk, much less climb out of a space that Marcus would barely fit through. And Alex's almost two meters tall. There's no way." "But he could die if we let it fall," countered Kevin. Kerri shook her head. "The Mech will probably fall anyway, if we loosen it. And if he's partway out when it does, he will die. It's better for him." Kevin sighed. "What does Dawson have to say about it?" he asked after a second. Vaguely, he noticed that Werner had left the two of them to sort out the problem, and thought a silent thanks to the man. "He's stir crazy. I think if we suggested blowing up the Wildstar, he'd go along with it. Just to stop the boredom." "And he can't wait for us to come back." Kerri answered while shaking her head again. "Not unless we can be back real soon. The isolation along could kill him, if he doesn't starve or kill himself first." Kevin thought for a few moments before nodding slowly. "Okay, but everything is cleared out of here first. That includes whatever Mechs can be moved." He looked at the hole in the side of the Dropship that had served as a door. "Rip that open wider, and use the Commando and Wolfhound to get the Koto and Javalin out. I want the Firestarter and Watase's Mech down here ASAP." "What about my Hollander?" Kerri had a worried expression on her face. Kevin regarded her solemnly. "We leave it." She started to protest, but he cut her off. "I don't want a fall to trigger off the Gauss Rifle. We leave it. End of story." She looked as if she was going to argue, but instead let out a clipped "Yes, sir." Lightening his expression, Kevin patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Kerri. You won't be without it for long. One week, tops." Her shoulders were slumped, but she seemed to accept this. "What about Marcus's, Wallace's, and your Mechs? You didn't mention them." "Since those three are the highest, except for the Cicada and might fall on the central supports, and then to the ground. Not a chance for now." Kerri let a smug smile come to her face, taking some joy out of the fact that she wouldn't be the only one temporarily dispossessed. Turning, she tossed Kevin an array of hooks and ropes. "What's this for?" "We gotta climb up and get Alex ready don't we? And we have to let Kalahan's Mech down." His expression sobered quickly. "No, Kerri. Leave that to the infantry guys." She shrugged. "Fine, suit yourself. See you later." Shouldering the equipment, she started to the side of the Dropship to climb up. Kevin's eyes widened with anger, and Kerri noticed. She narrowed her eyes. "Don't get sexist on me Kevin. And I'm not your girlfriend." His look apologetic, he explained his anger. "It's not about you. I just don't want to lose another one of you, and the Davions are better at this stuff anyway." "How do you know?" "I..." he tried to answer. "You don't. If you had actually tried to find out, you might have known that both Watase and I are better at rappelling and mountain climbing than any of these boys. Most of them have never had formal training; they're just fighting for their home." Angerly, she stormed off. Kevin was still trying to formulate his thoughts as she left. *** This is insane. Alex glared out the cockpit of his Cicada at Kerri as the thought struck him. "You have got to be kidding me," he spat. The blond haired woman shifted around in the array of rappelling gear and gripped the edge of the visor to get a good look at him. "Do you have a better idea?" she asked him. "Yeah. Don't do it!" She stared at him for a moment. "We have to get you down. Soon." He nodded at her with a sneer on his face. "Right. But first you need to get some better equipment to do it." "That'll take too long, Alex." She was shaking her head slowly at him. The view was a little strange because of the differences between normal perspective-Alex was looking almost straight down-and the force of gravity. "I can survive it. I've been in worse situations." He tried to remember one, but his memory was getting fuzzy. Kerri stared at him for a moment then started laughing quietly. It wasn't a friendly laugh, good natured and agreeing. Rather, it was the sort of laugh one has when encountering some humorous folly. "Y'know. Kevin was saying almost the exact same things you are." "Then someone has actually been thinking among you guys." She didn't smile at his sarcastic comment. "I convinced him." "Only one counts, and that's me." "You'll die if you stay here! Don't you understand that? One way or another, you're going to die unless we cut you loose." Her voice was rising a bit. The tone struck a painful crescendo in Alex's ears, he winced slightly, but the pain stayed. "Listen, Miss Wendingham!" He shouted back. "You are not going to drop me headfirst straight down twenty-five meters. I might die if you leave me, but I will die if you let me go. Of that I am sure. No dropping. Never. End of story." He tried to cross his arms, as if to say that there was to be no argument from her, but the appendages wouldn't cooperate. Sighing, Kerri said, "You can't move your arms can you. I bet you are going to have some trouble breathing soon. That constriction on your blood vessels will soon result in permanent damage." Another body swung down from above-behind-Alex's Mech. "Everything is ready, Kerri-kun." Watase turned towards Alex. "I wish you all the luck that exists, Alex-san." Alex's eyes went wide. "You can't do this. I'll die! Don't you understand that?" Kerri gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry, Alex," she replied, "But you've been here in this position for about sixty hours. I hope that you come out okay." Maddie's voice came through over the comm-link. "Yeah, Mr. D. It's time for you to join the land of the living." "Thank you, Maddie," Alex resigned, "But that doesn't really comfort me." The older woman gave a short laugh in reply. Kerri and Watase swung away and climbed back above him. "Ready?" she asked. "No." "Good." She paused a moment. "Nobody here has ever done this before..." Naw, really, Alex thought. "...So, we're going to write the book as we go. Best suggestion we can give is shut your eyes, and stay loose. Don't tighten up." "Fat chance." "Oh, and just ignore any sounds you might here. This will take a minute." The radio went dead. Alex suddenly had an urge to take in everything, every sensation, that he could. He couldn't feel anything, not even the tingles that would signify that his limbs were asleep. A deep breath brought the familiar sweet, sweaty smell to his nostrils, but the only thing he could taste was the bitter tang of bile. Even that gave him a little joy. He wanted these sensations to be important. What he drank up most was the sights. He tried to twist his head to get a look at the cockpit that had been his for the last six years, but his neck wouldn't cooperate. His head would probably have hung down, but his neurohelmet kept it from doing so. In front of him was the vast cavern of the Wildstar. The dropship's Mech bay had been emptied of everything that the Razors and Davions could move. Far below him, the floor waited. He saw parts of both Kerri's and Watase's BattleMechs, in the hardpoints that would have been in the center of the bay, had the dropship been correctly oriented. Then the sounds started. First it was quiet, but the moaning and screeching quickly became loud. It sounded as if some metal creature was being tortured beyond anything a human had ever experience. A few muted curses came over the comm, and then there was a loud pop. Everything froze for a moment, and then Alex's stomach was thrust into his back. Time had slowed down so that he could see and notice everything, but he couldn't remember a bit of it, because time was also blindingly fast. He began to fall, but with a slight spin. "Hold on, Alex!" someone shouted. Last thing I ever hear said to me? he wondered. The ground rushed up at him, faster and faster, yet the fall took forever. The scars and details in the floor became huge, but were still a long way off. And the Cicada hit. The momentum of the fall transferred partly to his not entirely stable position. He was jammed into the straps even harder, but didn't feel a thing. The backlash flung him back into the couch and knocked the breath out of him. The Mech had landed almost straight down, but there was a slight angle. The edge of the rectangular cockpit screen crumpled, and the rest of the poly-composite material cracked and shattered, sending a rain of splinters into the cockpit. Most of these lacked sufficient force to do any damage, but the ones that hit Alex bit into his skin. He noticed this after everything had calmed down again. And he felt it. Wetness on his face. His eyes had been riveted open during the ordeal, and he now saw drops of blood falling from his face onto the ground through the remains of the cockpit visor. Finally, breathing deeply, he shut his eyes and savored the moment. The pain, the euphoria. He loved it all. In the distance he heard some cheering, but took no notice of it until he head the hatch of his cockpit being opened. Maddie Winson and one of the infantrymen dropped down beside him and released the straps. Alex fell unceremoniously into their arms. "Ya did it, Alex," Maddie said, "That wasn't so hard, was it?" "Yeah, sure." They pulled him out of the cockpit and passed him to another group of pair to get him off of the Cicada. "You look like crap, man." Anson was wiping the blood off of Alex's arms and face as they lay him down. Someone pulled the bulky neurohelmet off of his head, letting a rush of cold refreshing air wash through his hair and around his face. One of the soldiers inspected his wounds. "I don't think that any of this damage is permanent. Mostly superficial, actually. The neurohelmet and cooling vest stopped most of the damage. But you need to be washed up as soon as possible. Your skin in certain places has been stagnating, and without the oxygen in your blood to keep the parts of your body in good condition, a fungus or bacteria could have easily infected parts of your body." Alex heard, but was ignoring him. He blinked a few times, but finally shut his eyes and grabbed at the other thing that had been eluding him of late: sleep. -- a Mike Stackpole Fan since 1992 Umi's Champion Nuriko's Honor Guard Yes, Virginia, now Santa Claus is dead Some guy from the SWAT team blew a hole through his head Yes, little friend, now that's his brains on the floor I guess they won't have the fat guy to kick around anymore But now there's no presents for the children's enjoyment And the elves gotta stand in line and file for unemployment And they say Mrs. Claus is on the phone every night With her lawyer negotiating the movie rights -Weird Al, "The Night Santa Went Crazy" -------------------------------------------------------------- From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][FanFic] Razors Edge Chapter 9 Brief Author's Note: This is one of my favorite pieces of everything I've written. At the time, it was probably the best descriptive piece I'd done, even now, tho, I'm still impressed by it. By my original numbering system, This was actually Chapter 12 or 13... Very soon after writing them, I deleted three of the chapters (1, 2, and 8 or 9) and a prologue, because they didn't work... I may still have them around here somewhere, so they may see the light of day... Or, maybe not. BattleTech is tm and (c) FASA Corp. All characters and situations (c) K. Jeffery Petersen =Chapter 9= Word of Blake Re-Education Center, Jonathan Chaos March (Disputed Territory) Date Unknown The shaft of light stabbed through the darkness, a probe that sought his eye. It missed, and alighted his lower left arm. He turned his head slightly to look at the aperture, but his eyes, being unused to the bright light, blurred, so he could only make out the barest of silhouettes. "Get up." The commanding voice grated against his eardrums with an underlying tone that implied volumes about what would happen if he did not comply. Even so, he made no move to rise. The voice gave the command again, harsher, and still he made no move. After a short pause, the voice said, "Very well. You will have to be punished." The shadow-blot moved out of his vision. "Get him out of there." "Come and get me yourself." The words came out of his mouth in a whisper, but the other speaker obviously noticed them. All sounds of movement halted outside the chamber. If not for the fact that the light now existed where less than five minutes before it hadn't, he would not have guessed that anyone had said a thing again. Only the light stilled his thoughts that he was finally going insane. "Ignore what he says. It is the ramblings of an infidel. Get him out of there," the voice said finally. By concentrating, he placed the voice as that of a male. A form blocked out some of the light as a person stooped to enter the small chamber. A second form further blotted out the light behind the first. Even though this person was closer to him than the speaker, he could not make out any features. He tightened his muscles in anticipation. There was some wet squelching followed by a hastily covered curse as the person crawled through his bodily wastes that lined the small chamber. The vulgarity brought a slight smile to his face. At least someone has a taste of what I've had. The person's silhouette got smaller for a moment, making to back out of the chamber, but the voice shouted, "What are you doing? Get in there and pull him out." "But it's..." the form protested. "You can clean up later," the voice interrupted, "If I don't punish you for your insolence. Get him!" Giving a sigh, the person stooped in the chamber, and shuffled forward. The ceiling was less than four feet from the floor, and the walls were slightly less apart, so the person could not even come to a semblance of full height. Apprehensive, but willing to come forward, he assessed, How about offering some incentive? Suddenly, he thrust his leg out hard and low. Even though his muscles had been dormant and forced into laziness for days, the force generated by the kick brought a feeling of crushing and crumbling to the bottom of his bare foot. The lack of pain shooting up his leg, and the howl emitting from the person gave him the satisfaction that the breaking of bones was not that of his. The form recoiled by instinct, drawing itself back and upright. The attempt to stand brought more weight down on the damaged ankle, and when the person's head hit the low ceiling, this only aggravated the situation. Amidst the crying from the person, the voice outside was shouting at this insolence. A hand grabbed his leg and he was hauled unceremoniously past the sobbing form into the bright hallway. Strong arms lifted him up in a standing position and released him. His legs weren't able to hold up his form because of the time spent in the small chamber, so his body was dumped on the cool ground. He savored the feeling of such a cool object against his skin before the hands lifted him up again and held him there. Someone grabbed his hair tightly and yanked his head into a vertical position. The pain forced his eyes open, and he got a good look at the person who had first spoken to him. Examining the fat, robed form, thoughts of contempt came to his head. Well, well, Demi-Precentor. You sure seem to have improved your position with these recent changes. A closer examination of the other man brought a look of revulsion to his face. Not from the older man's pasty, pale face-he was sure his own currently looked far worse-but rather from the insignia on the man's attire. Now a full Precentor, but not for ComStar. This pig would sell himself out to the Clans if it served him. The man smiled to him, a fearsome predatory smile. "Yes, unlike some I can mention, I have seen the error in my ways. I am not such a fossil to believe that I can stand against the tide of time." The words did not sound like those of the start of a conversation. The Precentor sounded as he had ran the scenario out in his head, and was jumping to the good parts. "We have much to talk about, but not in your condition. You must be cleaned up and made presentable." The predatory smile became even broader. "And after a few other things, Michael Barnabes. I am a man that keeps his word." *** The solitary confinement had not bothered Acolyte Michael Barnabes as much as he thought it would, but more than he had feared. He was frightened by the feelings of intense anger and lust for revenge that was coursing through his soul. He did not know how long he had been kept in there, but it probably hadn't been even a week. It struck him as irrational that he should want his tormentors dead. He was alive after all. The Precentor's words had told him that he was going to be kept alive, but in what condition he couldn't determine. He had been a member of the elite Com Guards, and had fought against the Clans during the very bloody Battle of Tukayyid. His twelve years in service to ComStar had made Michael a strong man, and within minutes he was walking of his own volition. It was a staggering gait, to be sure, but walking, nonetheless. The two guards escorted him to a large room with tiled floors and pipes running along the ceilings. Covered holes about ten centimeters wide broke the pattern of pipes at periodic intervals. The guards shoved him into the room, and a tinge of fear rose in his throat as he stumbled forward. He had visited the remains of Daceau in Germany on Terra once years ago. The concept of "showers" for prisoners was not lost on him, but he saw no irony in the situation. The fact that the guards followed him in stilled his fears for the moment. "Stand here," one of the guards commanded firmly, pointing to a spot on the ground. Michael complied, and the two men grabbed and stripped him of the few remaining tatters that covered his body. His skin was pale from lack of sun, but streaks of human waste darkened it plenty. Michael guessed that his normally light tan hair was suffering similarly. He made no move to cover his naked body, for that would be a weakness. And I cannot show any weakness to these. The guards stood back, and without warning a deluge of cold water cascaded down over him. The shock at the temperature change constricted his muscles involuntarily, and breathing became short and gaspy. The torrent did not let up, but in his surprise Michael just stood there. A pair of rough brushes were brought across his body by the two guards, pulling up the grime of the solitary confinement, and tearing up a slight amount of flesh. Michael did not fight the discomfort, he wanted to be clean. They scraped across his body in short order and withdrew. The water stopped soon after, leaving him to stand there soaking wet and breathing shortly. He began to shiver, but fought the impulse to ball up and rub himself. Nothing happened for about a minute until the Precentor entered. "Ah, Michael. You look much better," the man said, his voice full of mock sympathy for Michael's situation. Slowly the older man shook his head. "But you don't look quite fully clean." He nodded to something behind Michael, and a new cascade of water fell down on his head. It wasn't as powerful as the first, so no new bruises would be formed because of it, and it was warmer, but something nagged Michael about it. It didn't feel quite like water. He rubbed two of his fingers together and discovered an oily feeling. The liquid didn't so much splash onto his body as flow over it. He flicked his tongue out, and almost immediately regretted it as he met a sour soapy taste. New immediate fear sprang forth in his mind. His eyes went wide as he thought about the liquid. This water has an electrolyte in it. He glared at the Precentor as his hands were bound and drawn out tight. "I didn't think that ever you would be this sadistic, Ramstad Isham." The fat man replied, "I cannot say that I am happy you were wrong, Michael, but I did say you were to be punished." The sound of an electrical device powering up accompanied his voice. "And I also said that I am a man of my word. Turn it off." The water stopped flowing. The first shock drew the muscles in Michael's back up tight. Pain flared and spread across his body. He grunted in surprise and pain, but bit the cry from releasing. He would not give Isham the pleasure of hearing him scream. A second touch and the electrical impulses overloaded his nerves and shot tendrils of pain up and down his lean form. This one had been lower, and under his left arm, and the muscles around his ribs contracted tightly sending new feelings of pain throughout him. Another touch, and another. They were just holding an electrical generating device on his skin, sending impulses of energy across his body, but weren't actually beating him yet. He held his voice down, however. Isham's face was becoming read. "Hold it on him!" he screamed, bringing his face close to Michael's, he said, "You will scream. I will hear you before this is through!" The object was pressed against the small of his back, and a continuous wave of electricity traveled across his flesh. Michael growled out, his voice breaking under the strain, but still he did not scream. He could feel every fiber of his body in exquisite detail. The veins of his neck were standing out and his skin was sending him definite signals that something was wrong. His breathing was becoming ragged, when he could get any at all. After almost thirty seconds of the ordeal, Isham waved his arms and shouted, "Stop! He's not going to comply this way. Get the other prisoners." He again brought his face close to Michael's. "You haven't won this round yet, Acolyte, and you won't win any if I have anything to say about it." It didn't take much effort for Michael to hold back his retort, he didn't have the breath for it anyway. He just hung there breathing shallowly, waiting. A few minutes later, a small procession filed into the chamber. Four dirty individual were flanked by two of the Word of Blake guards. A variety of emotions played across the prisoners' faces: apprehension, defiance, fear, and a little relief upon seeing Michael. He recognized all four of them, they were the other MechWarriors in his command. They were all replacement troops after Tukayyid, but they were good and well trained. But they weren't all there. Chung Kao was missing. Michael twisted his head around to see the man, but couldn't see him. "It pains me to say that not all of your people fared as well as you during the recent incidents," Isham said, "I am sorry." The fat man turned to the new prisoners. "I would hate for any more to die." "You wouldn't hurt them," Michael answered in low tones. Isham turned toward him with a quizzical and surprised look on his face. "Oh? Wouldn't I?" "No. You wouldn't." Isham shook his head slightly. "How do you know?" Turning, he pulled out a small pistol, leveled it with Harrison Detson's head, and pulled the trigger. A deafening boom sounded as the bullet ripped through the man's skull and brain in a bloody mess. Harrison's body swayed for a moment, then collapsed on the floor. Blood and fragments of his head splashed around in a horrible crimson stain. "You bastard!" Michael shouted. "I'll kill you. I swear that I'll kill you!" He struggled against the bonds, trying to leap at the fat Precentor. In reply, Isham chuckled. "I don't think so. First of all, you are in no position to. And second of all." He paused, as if he had lost his train of thought. "You know, it just occurred to me as to how filthy your friends are. We must clean them up." He signaled to the guards, who began prodding Mesa Filips, Caroline Harris, and Barnaby Wooster forward. Under the shower holes. The three MechWarriors walked forward like zombies, staring horrified at their dead teammate. "No!" The shout brought them to an abrupt halt. Michael visibly slumped, beaten. He didn't really mind the torture on him, but he couldn't bear having the deaths and abuse of his command on his conscience. Not in this situation, anyway. "I'll do as you say. Just leave them alone." Isham nodded. "Good." He looked at one of the guards and said, "You may put these prisoners back in their cells." "Yes, Precentor." Along with the three surviving prisoners, a few guards left. "Now then, where were we?" Isham regarded Michael solemnly. "We aren't finished here yet." He gestured to something behind the tied man, and a quick burst of the liquid fell. There was a slight poke, and the pain began anew. Michael tried to fight it, but his heart was not in it. Eventually he began to scream. How he managed to get the staggered breathes he did get was beyond him, but somehow he managed to fuel the howls until sheer exhaustion killed them. His throat raw, he endured in silence for what seemed to be an eternity, never once surrendering consciousness. Actually, his thoughts were very clear. I'll go along with you, Isham, but I swear, that I will make you pay as soon as my people are safe. You will wish you'd never even heard of ComStar. Damien Roc a Mike Stackpole Fan since 1992 Umi's Champion Nuriko's Honor Guard Yes, Virginia, now Santa Claus is dead Some guy from the SWAT team blew a hole through his head Yes, little friend, now that's his brains on the floor I guess they won't have the fat guy to kick around anymore But now there's no presents for the children's enjoyment And the elves gotta stand in line and file for unemployment And they say Mrs. Claus is on the phone every night With her lawyer negotiating the movie rights -Weird Al, "The Night Santa Went Crazy" -------------------------------------------------------------- From: Damien Roc Subject: [BattleTech][FanFic] Razors Edge Chapter 10 Brief Author's Note: One thing writing this novel taught me is there's a difference between reading and writing speed. I doubt there's anyone on the face of the earth who writes faster than they read. This difference in time can have a drastic effect on what goes on in a story. For some things, it seemed like I was spending an unnaturally long time on them, so I had a habit of hurrying through. Hence, some characterizations are rather sparse. Wallace Trellan is one example. I suppose, if I did it again, I'd give him a bit of a larger part. BattleTech is tm and (c) FASA Corp. All characters and situations (c) K. Jeffery Petersen. =Chapter 10= Federated Commonwealth Guerilla Headquarters, Jonathan Chaos March (Disputed Territory) 30 December, 3057 The constant blockading by the FedCom commanders was beginning to addle Kevin's brain. In the four days joining up with the Davion troops, he had thrown himself into the job of improving the situation of the Razors. The fact that they were technically guilty of consorting with the enemy already did not help him any. They had arrived at the FedCom camp two standard days before. Since the Jonathan day was nearly a week long, the sun had been shining on them for much of that time. In the camp, the mercenaries had established themselves in various ways. Anson had immediately been drawn to the table tennis that was set up next to the mess area. Maddie Winson had likewise joined with some of the House troops in a series of high-stakes poker games. Kevin couldn't think of a time that she hadn't been seated at a table, cigarette in her mouth glaring sternly at the other players. He didn't worry about her. The bets were real enough, but the other players were as stubborn as her, so most things should come out even. The field doctor had given Anders and Dawson a diagnosis. The latter would be fine with some rest and topical medication. But it was doubtful if Anders would walk again without major surgery. Surgery we don't have any chance of getting in the near future, Kevin thought, shaking his head. The medic had put both of the young man's legs in casts, but the body couldn't heal the damage naturally. I've lost two warriors, and we haven't even engaged the enemy yet. But even so, I have some other business to attend to right now. He stood up from the table, and exited the tent. He heard the pop-tapping sounds of paddles and balls contacting from the Ping Pong table. Anson was probably extending his current winning streak to about a thousand. However, Kevin wasn't interested in games at the time. He walked over to where the BattleMechs were situated to find Arctic Kalahan. "Hey, Kevin!" Wallace Trellan called from the torso of the Wolfhound. "Kerri an' me got something we wanna show you." The woman poked her head up from behind the Mech's shoulder and waved. Kevin waved back. "I have to talk to Arctic about something first, but then you can show to your hearts content." His second-in-command gave a large grin in reply, then went back to an intense study of the war machine's middle torso. He found Kalahan in the leg of the man's Firestarter. Somehow, Arctic had managed to squeeze his tall form around inside the knee of the thirty-five tone machine. He was working on the actuator. "Hello, sir," he said shortly when he saw Kevin approach. "Could you do something for me?" Kevin nodded and climbed up the scaffolding by the Mech so he could see the other man. "Yeah. I need to talk to you, Arctic." "Okay," the calm man answered. He fiddled around with the actuator and something popped open from the main disk. What looked to be a circular gear was just inches above the man's stomach. "Do you see those two wires there?" He gestured in between his legs. "Yes." "Brush them together for a moment." Kevin picked up the two wires, careful to hold the insulation. Holding them about a hands-breadth from each other he stroked on over the other. Electricity crackled along them, and he felt a slight vibration through the coated metal. The gear just above Kalahan began to spin very fast with a high pitched whir. If it had been two inches lower, it would have quite successfully gutted the red-haired man. Kevin quickly pulled the wires apart against the electromagnetic attraction between them. "Thank you, sir." Arctic popped the apparatus back together, and pushed it up into the leg so he could get out. Besides the actuator, torn myomer bundles were strewn about the interior of the leg, but the damage didn't look severe. "What was it you wanted?" Kevin gave the man a grim smile. "It's about your dossier. I found some problems with it before leaving Outreach." "But you still hired me." The flatness of Kalahan's voice gave the impression that Kevin had no choice but to hire him. Come to think of it, I really didn't. "You're good enough to merit the risk. But I still want to ask you about it." Something in the tall man seemed to momentarily break, but it quickly evaporated. "I should have expected that you would find out I was never in the AFFC." "You aren't from Tharkad?" "No." Kalahan shook his head. "I'm from Team Banzai." That brought Kevin up short. It explained many things. Team Banzai was one of the best mercenary regiments in the Inner Sphere, and most of its MechWarriors were also expert techs. But there were other questions that it brought up. "Why'd you join a half-assed company like the Razors when you could be with one of the absolute best. I know some people who would go Disposessed to join the Team." "I didn't leave because I wasn't happy with my life there." Kevin had a hard time believing Arctic could be happy about anything, but he had the same trouble imagining the man having any emotion. "I left because of family difficulties." Kevin gave the man a sidelong glance. "What happened?" Kalahan shrugged. "During the Clan War, my mother died in battle. My father was a Dropship captain, and her death got him scared about me. He tried to get me to get into aerospace, at the time I hadn't really done much of anything, but I wanted to live up to mom's memory." The man let out an uncharacteristic sigh. "Dad accepted this, but began to drive me very hard. I guess I unconsciously began to distance myself from him. I had friends in the regiment, but the memories began to get painful. My mother was dead in body, and to me, my father in spirit. I had to leave." Kevin rubbed the stubble that was breaking through on his chin. "Why didn't you just put that down on your dossier." "Everyone makes mistakes, Lieutenant," answered Arctic, shrugging. He turned around without another word, and went to work on his Mech again. Kevin mulled over the confession from the man as he returned to where Trellan and Kerri were working. Both MechWarriors had big grins on their faces. Marcus Wu and Kaneda Watase were standing watching the first two work, and had slight smiles on their faces. Marcus turned toward Kevin as he approached. "I think you will enjoy what they have done, sir," the short man announced. Kevin raised his eyebrows. "What is it?" "I think you should see for yourself, sir." Kevin winced slightly at the man's form of addressing him. Even after the three weeks he had worked with the asian man, he couldn't break the constant "sir." Kerri hopped down as Trellan finished up what he was doing. "We got the idea while reading some historical files on the Dropship. Wanted it to be a surprise." Trellan descended with a small paintbrush in hand. He joined the group of onlookers as they gazed at his handiwork. Dead center on the Wolfhound's chest was a symbol. Kevin recognized the picture. There, set in a jungle green "R" lined with white was a yellow and white disposable shaving razor that had been used back in the 20th century. The entire symbol was against a royal blue background. Kevin blinked his eyes a few times. Slight tears began to form and he brushed them away. "I don't know what to say. This is really great of you, guys." "This isn't all," said Kerri, grabbing his hand and tugging him around the rear of the tall machine. There on the broad back was another picture. This was of five playing cards. Three aces and two queens, a full house in poker. "Does Maddie know you did this?" he asked, giving her a sly smile. "Nope." Trellan answered the question from the other side of Kevin. "We got ideas for most of the Mechs. And we're coming up with something for each lance." Nodding his approval, Kevin thought about getting the rest of the company's machines to the camp. He had faced trouble with the Davion leaders because they couldn't see the need in using valuable equipment on a shaky possibility of drastically improving their forces. That's bureaucrats for you. "Well, this is really nice, but we have to get the rest of the Mechs here ASAP." Marcus and Trellan nodded in reply. "How are Alex and Anders?" "They are both awake, Chu-i. And I do believe they wish to speak with you," Watase told him. "That'll have to wait, I'm afraid, Lieutenant," the voice of Captain Werner interrupted. Kevin turned to the man. "What's happened?" "You know how you said that the Dropship ejected the two fighters before crashing?" Kevin nodded. "Well, if your description of them is correct, they our scouts have found them." Werner's face became grim. "They're good with the Caps." Cursing inwardly, Kevin racked his brain for a solution to the problem. The twins had last been in contact before the bridge of the Wildstar had been hit. They had probably seen it go down, and assumed that the Razors had died in the crash. They had acted out the contract as best they could, so rendezvoused with the Capellans. "I've got to see this," he told Werner. "Thought you'd say that. We've got a hover car ready to take us to the Capellan perimeter. You should pick up some equipment from the supply tent first. Don't know if it's going to get hairy beforehand." Kevin began to run to the quartermaster. He paused a moment. "Wallace, you're in charge. You know what to do if I don't come back. I doubt that will happen, though." The other mercenaries shuffled uncomfortabley at the thought of losing their commander, but Trellan nodded. *** "Okay. Explain what the situation is exactly again." Kevin and Werner were laying flat in the grasses near the edge of a Word of Blake compound where the Capellan forces had set up a headquarters. Both men were using electro-binoculars to scan the area. "The Caps invaded the planet back in September. About a month later, Word of Blake moved in and took over the ComStar facility. We didn't have anything larger than a fifty ton conventional at the time, and the Caps had some heavier stuff, but no Mechs. Even so, we had to fight a running battle, and eventually went to ground. "The Blakes have got one of those Star League type reinforced lances of Mechs. I guess they expected to fight the Com Guard forces, who had the only Mechs on the planet, but overcame them easily I guess." In the distance, a knot of people exited from a building. There was a fat man in a Precentor's robes, as well as some people in Capellan military uniforms. There was also a man in the white-gray uniform of the Com Guards, but he had shackles on his hands. A guard had a gun trained on the man at all times. "The large guy is Precentor Isham," Werner explained, "He used to be ComStar, but quickly turned when the Blakes arrived. And the Com Guard is Michael Barnabes. He used to command the Com forces here." "And the Liao guys?" asked Kevin. Werner shook his head. "I don't know. I've never seen them before, but I guess that they're just some officers in the Cap forces." Just then two more individuals came out of the building. Kevin immediately recognized the bear-like men. "There they are. You were right, Captain." "Those are your pilots, then?" "Coleman and Terrance Larsen, yes they are." "They don't seem like prisoners. But not allys either. More like guests." In the distance, the Precentor had begun shouting something at the Com Guard man. One of the Capellans apparently tried to calm the fat man, but the Blakeian wouldn't have it. Barnabes weathered the onslaught until one of the brothers intervened. At the sight of the huge man, the Precentor subsided. "Wonder what that was about." Kevin didn't answer Werner's comment. "So what my company has to do is get that Com Guard and his people out, right?" he eventually asked. "Yep." Kevin began to assess a plan of attack. "Where do they keep the BattleMechs?" he asked. "Why should you want to know that?" "Well, because..." Kevin started before realizing that Werner had not spoken. He slowly turned his head to see straight down the barrel of a rifle in the hands of a Capellan sentry. "Get up," the soldier ordered. Kevin slowly rolled over, careful to keep his hands in sight. "This isn't what you think," he explained. The man sneered, "Really? I see two soldiers spying on a military compound; one in an enemy's uniform. I believe this is very much what I think." Dammit! Kevin swore in his mind, If this guy even gets back, the brother's will know who I am. I can't let that happen. He tried to see a way out of the situation, but the sentry was keeping enough distance to prevent Kevin from assaulting the man. Werner was even farther away. "What are you waiting for? I told you to get up!" Fury blazed in the man's eyes. Placing his arms down to push himself up, Kevin glanced over at Werner, who in turn glanced down at his own hip pocket. There was the bulge of a hold-out pistol. Without giving any indication about what he had seen, Kevin rose to his feet. Werner likewise stood up behind him. There was a soft rustle as the infantryman pulled the pistol out, then Kevin collapsed to the ground. Before the sentry could register what was going on, the needler in Werner's hand gave a quiet phut! and the Cappellan's face turned into a bloody mess; torn apart by the razor-sharp plastic flechettes. To make sure that the man was dead, Werner pumped two more rounds into his chest. Kevin had no doubt that the man would never rise again. "We should probably get going," Werner said, "Since this guy showed up, it probably means that they've been altering their search patterns. We don't know when the next one will be along." Kevin nodded as he picked up the sentry's rifle and ammunition. A quick frisk of the corpse did not reveal anything else of use. Turning to Werner he said, "Okay. Let's go." *** Upon returning to the Davion camp, Kevin gathered up the Razors for a unit meeting in the medic's tent. "Here's the scoop, troops. For the time being we work with the FedComs." "What about the contract?" "Dawson, right now we don't have the option of fulfilling the actual contract. In case you hadn't noticed, we're directly in the midst of the enemy." "We could join with the Caps as soon as we have our Mechs." The tall man retorted. Kevin's face became flat and unamused. "Right. What about Anders?" At the sound of his name, the blond haired man pushed himself up in the cot he was resting on. "I should hope not. Even with my legs like this, I can still do something to help." Anders had mellowed out considerably since the crash. He didn't display the rebellious nature that had been characteristic of him on the Wildstar very often anymore. That's what happens when you get a good look at your own mortality, Kevin thought, Too bad you're injured, Anders. Now that you've had tempering, you can be depended upon. Kerri added, "Do any of you want to fight the Davions now that we know them?" "Can we afford to not fight them?" Alex asked, "I mean, we aren't only facing lack of payment. This is breach of contract. I don't mean to be harsh, but if we don't do something, who'll hire us?" The rest of the Razors thought about the man's words. "I don't want to go the Galatea way," he added. Most of the mercs nodded assent. "I don't either," Maddie said, "But I'm not about to backstab the FedComs." She gave Alex a hard stare. "I don't believe that they shot us down." "Well, then who did?" Anson Remele asked. Though they all wanted to make someone pay for Haas's death, he had taken the consequences of the crash harder than anyone else, save Anders. "I don't know, Anson, but I intend to find out," answered Kevin, "But as for the breach of contract. Yes, if we help the Davs, we will breach, but I don't think that the consequences will be as harsh as you think." "Why's that?" Trellan asked. Kevin shrugged. "Because, we won't be technically fighting the Caps, or fight for the FedComs. They think ComStar hired us to get some Com Guards out from the Blake insurgenists." "I still don't like it," Alex argued, "You have to admit that chances are likely that we will fight the Capallens trying to bust the compound." "Will you go along with us? I'll call this voluntary because of the circumstances, and if charges are brought against the unit, I'll denounce any who opt out." "Hell no, I'm not quitting, Kevin. We are a team. I'll be in, but I don't have to like it." Kevin turned to the three members of the unit who had been silent so far. "What about you three. You haven't said much, and I want to know what you think." "I am in, Lieutenant," Arctic answered in his usual flat tone. Marcus Wu thought a bit before answering. "This is difficult, because I will probably have to fight my own people, sir." "I understand." "But I will fight, because that life is behind me. My loyalty is to the Razors." Kevin nodded his appreciation, then looked expectantly at Watase. The man looked up as if to say something, but paused and decided against it. What's this about? Some hidden agenda, Watase? Kevin raised his eyebrows, but did not question the man. Apparently he would stay with the unit. "What about the rest of you? I'm assuming that you'll all come along for the ride, but if you feel otherwise, tell me now." Anson gave Kevin a look of complete bewilderment. "Are you crazy, Boss? Of course I'm in." "Couldn't do it any other ways," Maddie said. Trellan spread his arms, palms facing up. "What can I say, Kevin. You know me. I'll do it." "All right, Razors. Now we need to get the rest of the Mechs here and start planning." Damien Roc a Mike Stackpole Fan since 1992 Umi's Champion Nuriko's Honor Guard Yes, Virginia, now Santa Claus is dead Some guy from the SWAT team blew a hole through his head Yes, little friend, now that's his brains on the floor I guess they won't have the fat guy to kick around anymore But now there's no presents for the children's enjoyment And the elves gotta stand in line and file for unemployment And they say Mrs. Claus is on the phone every night With her lawyer negotiating the movie rights -Weird Al, "The Night Santa Went Crazy"