Silenced_Sonix
01/08/05 05:53 AM
168.209.97.34
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Okay, this is the (final) 'Mech list:
1x VND-1AA Vindicator - (ex-Liao)
1x HBK-4G Hunchback - (ex-Liao)
1x SHD-2D Shadow Hawk - (ex-Davion)
1x DRG-1G Grand Dragon - (ex-Kurita)
As for the vehicles: I wanted to include a set of Von Luckners and Shrecks, but am not too sure as to how readily they are available, nor as to how many these guys - as mercs - could/should have.
Evolve or Die
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Greyslayer
01/08/05 09:34 AM
203.61.73.24
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Quote:
Okay, this is the (final) 'Mech list:
1x VND-1AA Vindicator - (ex-Liao)
1x HBK-4G Hunchback - (ex-Liao)
1x SHD-2D Shadow Hawk - (ex-Davion)
1x DRG-1G Grand Dragon - (ex-Kurita)
As for the vehicles: I wanted to include a set of Von Luckners and Shrecks, but am not too sure as to how readily they are available, nor as to how many these guys - as mercs - could/should have.
yuk.... shadow hawks. You don't have to take Nightward seriously on those, he has a 'thing' about them 
The whole 'which vehicles are prevalent thing' would be hard since you are aiming this at a period not as well covered by the people here. Perhaps when looking at vehicles see what is fairly common in the clicktech rubbish.
Historically though, ICE-based vehicles were more common since many of the fusion engines were diverted to mechs. Of course this didn't stop Fasa from designing more and more fusion-powered vehicles instead of ICE when the IS tried to increase numbers for the clan threat (go figure). Since ICE engines require fuel, logically mercs would try to acquire fusion since they are cheaper to run etc but these units are also far more expensive. Initial units would most probably be ICE but later units would be fusion as a unit tries to improve their stocks. Liao-Davion (following the line of the mechs selected) would be along the lines of Vedette and Patton (I think). Kuritans had a nicer selection of tanks from memory but some of those are 'exotic' configs (eg Partisan LRM variant is far better than the LRM Carrier, 4 x LRM15s in a turret and way more armour).
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Nightward
01/08/05 06:26 PM
203.214.146.53
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Nah. Shadow Hawks are great. They can be used to plug just about any gap, in a pinch; they're a mainstay of my 3025-era forces for that reason. They're not actually good at doing anything in particular, but they can always contribute something.
Especially with Inferno ammo. Yes, yes.
Shreck PPC Carriers are fiarly common, but Von Luckner tanks are as rare as hen's teeth. The DCMS is the only power still capable of constructing them, IIRC.
Seriously, have a look at the Bulldog. It's inexpensive (relatively), fair mobility, good wepons, solid armour.
Grab some VTOLs, too; something like Sprint Scout VTOLs and the cargo haulers (Karnov UR?). The cargo haulers can be used to ferry infantry around a bit better, and you're a bit lacking in the scouting department.
I'd probably loose the Grand Dragon, as we DCMers keep those things nice and close to us. The only time they were ever exported was to the Royal Highlander Black Watch.
Yea, verily. Let it be known far and wide that Nightward loathes MW: DA. Indeed, it is with the BURNING ANIMUS OF A THOUSAND SUNS that he doth rage against it with.
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Silenced_Sonix
01/09/05 09:44 AM
168.209.97.34
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Assuming from the lack of comments on the DropShips, I take that everybody is happy with my selection of the refitted Union and Intruder?
As for the Shadow Hawk - I like the design, but is it really supposed to carry so darn little armor? Looking at that now, I would rather replace it with a CN9-A Centurion, or perhaps a later model with a LB-X autocannon. As for the Grand Dragon, I will just revert to the original, which was a (memory serving) Clan Invasion-era normal DRG-5N Dragon.
As for the Intruder - the cargo bay of some 1056 tons has been separated into ten light vehicle berths (500t) and a smaller cargo compartment of 556 tons.
Heavy vehicles (Union):
1 - 3) - Shreck PPC Carriers
4 - 6) - Marksman Artillery
7 - 8) - Partisan Heavy Tank (4x AC5 variant)
9 - 10) - 2 Condors per bay (double-berthed); Davion variant
11) - 2 Vedettes (double-berthed); (new version)
12) - Demon Tank
Light Vehicles (Intruder):
1 - 3) - Drillson
4) - Engineering Vehicle
5 - 6) - Saladin (standard variant)
7 - 8) - 2 Harassers ber bay (double-berthed); standard variant
9) - 3 Mantis VTOLs (triple-berthed)
10) - Scimitar (standard variant)
Mechs:
1x VND-1AA Vindicator - (ex-Liao)
1x HBK-4G Hunchback - (ex-Liao)
1x CN9-A Centurion - (ex-?)
1x DRG-5N Dragon - (ex-Kurita)
Aerofighters:
1x Visigoth-C
1x THK-53 Tomahawk
1x F90 Stingray
Infantry:
2x MG Platoons
2x Flamer platoons
Any further comments?
Evolve or Die
Edited by Silenced_Sonix (01/09/05 09:47 AM)
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Nightward
01/09/05 09:07 PM
203.214.144.12
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I think you might have seen the SHD-2Dh, which has bugger all armour. The standard Shadow Hawk doesn't have first-class armour, no, but take it as a package and it's fine.
The Centurion isn't bade, but an intellligently played Shadow Hawk beats it hands down- better range, better mobility, more options.
Yea, verily. Let it be known far and wide that Nightward loathes MW: DA. Indeed, it is with the BURNING ANIMUS OF A THOUSAND SUNS that he doth rage against it with.
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Greyslayer
01/10/05 12:55 AM
216.14.192.234
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Just a quick note, the 1AA Vindicator was rare in 3025 and wasn't produced much after this point (from memory). Despite the fact it goes 5/8/5 it isn't a better unit than the original Vindicator due to the paper thin armour, probably still a better mech than the Shadow Hawk at least *evil grin*
Most common tanks are generally the Saracen and Pegasus. They are also better units than the Scimitar and Harassers to boot. Pegasus has a bonus to scouting, or the upgraded version (lighter armour but 9/14 instead of 8/12) has beagle/ECM/Tag combo from memory.
The J Edgar, despite being fusion, was not that uncommon either (even Taurian Concordat produced these in 3025 and Kurita even produced upgraded versions later to show the resolve to continue using this valuable tank).
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Silenced_Sonix
01/11/05 05:17 PM
168.209.97.34
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Thank-ee about the information on the Vindicator, have now changed it to the VND-3L version.
The vehicles are fine for now, but I will look into those designs you mentioned.
Beyond that, it would seem that I have actually run out of things to ask, and judging from the lack of further comments, I assume that these guys are as close to 'acceptable' as I am going to get. On that note, I can now fiannly start writing. Yeah!
The storyline has changed somewhat: the Cossacks are hired by the Swordsworn, sent to Shensi for some garrison duty, and are then attacked by Jack Farrell and his mercs (acting under orders from Bannson). With the Swordsworn off-planet, busy fighting the Cappies, and with no hope of reinforcement from their respective masters, the two mercenary units settle in to slug it out. The story ends (or should - I am still not too sure on the ending) with the mercs breaking off combat just as their backers arrive on-planet with their own armies.
Or something along that line...
Evolve or Die
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Greyslayer
01/12/05 12:03 AM
216.14.192.234
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The lesser input could be because we are afraid to make the units too much like what we would field.
Its ok to suggest what is common or rare but not to out and out say you must have a unit. Hopefully from this though you have gained an insight into the mercenary way.
Also I feel we have pushed you a little too close to a 3025 unit rather than the clicktech era. While I would disagree with fielding clantech in a merc unit the fielding of later mechs that may for example have level 2 equipment but a non-xl engine would certainly be viable for a merc unit to have at that time.
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Silenced_Sonix
01/13/05 04:47 PM
168.209.97.34
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Okjay, this is what I have managed to write so far. It has been incredibly hot here in our area - mid-thirties in Celsius - and I absolutely cannot write when it is that warm. I managed some 4500 words, but will try to do better next time. File is in WinWord format, apologies to non-Windows users.
Attachment (382 downloads)
Evolve or Die
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Silenced_Sonix
01/13/05 07:24 PM
168.209.97.34
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Union-class DropShip Montsegur
Zenith Jump Point, St. Andre System
Prefecture V, Republic of the Sphere
3 January 3135
“DropShip Montsegur, this is the Ferendale – you are clear for release.”
“Thank you, Ferendale - releasing clamps in five… four…” Standing at the bridge observation deck, boots tucked firmly into the Velcro niches that lined the bottom of the handrail, Ancetius Korvack, leader of the Crimson Cossacks mercenary group, watched the crew prep the ship for its release from the JumpShip that had carried them in-system. Tall, at an approximate one point eight-five meters, and with a shaven scalp that showed only the barest of reddish-brown bristles, he seemed completely unaware of the world around him, his eyes drifting over the various work-stations without really seeming to notice what was taking place. In the operations pit below him, the DropShip’s captain was the complete opposite. A broad jaw, large forehead and a thick, squashed nose dominated a face set in a semi-permanent scowl, and the captain’s bushy salt-and-pepper hair, normally hanging level with his shoulders, now hung in a Gorgon-like cloud around his head in the zero gravity of space. Seated at the central control chair, with a trio of large monitors and a myriad host of smaller ones surrounding him on virtually all sides, Captain Liam O’Connell was bathed in the glow of his command screens, and created the distinct impression to the watching mercenary commander of almost being able to feel the heartbeat of the ship. The captain had a headset crooked over his one ear, the mike dangling along his jaw, and the mutter of his voice as he gave orders was indiscernible from the dull rumble of the bridge’s activity.
“Three… Two…” On the deck above the captain, one of the observation deck’s monitors flickered to life, and was filled with a close-up view of the JumpShip’s hull that they still clung to. Painted the bone white so common to vessels plying the stellar routes, the JumpShip’s hull curved away from the camera in a smooth wave, and was marked, several meters away from the docking boom, with the insignia of the Cossacks’ latest employers – the sword/planet/sun of Duke Aaron Sandoval’s SwordSworn. One by one the other monitors came to life, and as they did, the picture grew – cameras located along the waist of the spherical ship each tied into one of the screens, until finally an almost perfect view of the surrounding space was created around the upper deck. At the sight of the vast openness of space, Ancetius finally looked up, following the line of screen until he had turned a complete circle on the deck, and felt his mouth twist into a low grin. In one of the side screens, the company’s second DropShip, a gray-hulled Intruder-class vessel, was visible where it clung to its own docking boom, and he could just imagine the feeling on their bridge not being very different from their own.
“One. Clamps releasing.” There was a slight pause, followed by the distant whine of machinery, and the DropShip slowly moved away from the SwordSworn ship. Gravity on the deck increased slightly, and Ancetius watched the artificial panorama of space shift as the DropShip moved further away, heading for a safe minimum distance before engaging the ship’s main drives. The image split between two of the starboard cameras’ monitors, he watched as their other DropShip also detached and moved off into space, thin puffs of thruster gas venting from nozzles along its waist and flanks as it rolled over and pointed its nose to the distant red-white sphere that was St. Andre. The Montsegur too righted itself, thrusters pointing to space, nose towards the destination planet, and it was not long before the ship’s public address system crackled to life.
“Attention crew, this is Captain O’Connell – we’re headed for St. Andre, thrusters engaging at one point five gees in sixty seconds from… mark.” The system clicked off again, and Ancetius scooted through the air towards the row of acceleration couches that lined the observation deck. He had just strapped in, one hand still tugging at a loose buckle, when the corridor hatchway that led from the deck opened, and a lithe, jumpsuit-wearing shape glided over towards him.
“Shiina! I thought you were down in the launch bays. Finished early?” He watched the ex-Combine warrior perform a deft turn in mid-air before allowing herself to move back into the couch and pulling the harness down. Her long black hair had been pulled back in a tight ponytail to minimize the irritation of loose hair in zero gravity, and her gray jumpsuit – a maintenance one Ancetius guessed, judging from the mixed collage of splattered grease, oil and various shades of paint that coated them – had been tied down around her middle with an utility belt of some kind. The suit did nothing to hide her well-shaped figure, and even though he was the unit’s commander, he had been the butt of a fair amount of raunchy jokes because of his personal relationship with the Kuritan girl.
“Yes, the problem was smaller than expected.” She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then sat back and gave one of her rare smiles that had caught Ancetius’ heart the first time he had seen her.
“Really?” He looked her over, knowing she was following his every move, and tilted his head in the direction of one of the particularly large stains on her suit. He grinned. “Doesn’t look that way.”
“Coolant.” She brushed her hand over the stain and raised it to him, palm up. A thin, greenish film coated her white skin, and as he reached out with a finger to touch the fluid, he caught a whiff of the stinging chemical smell of heavy-duty aerofighter coolant. “Number two and three again, on the port side – number two blew out, clogged, and then fed back into the coolant circuit.” Ancetius drew his finger along her palm, feeling the soapy texture of the chemical as it moved between his skin and hers. “Number three got a chunk of insulation from two lodged in its primary coolant pump and then shut itself down – but only after tearing through three of the four main filters.”
Ancetius simply nodded, gave her hand a squeeze, and then relaxed back into the couch as the overhead timer hit twenty. At his side, Shiina lowered her hand, rubbing it clean against one of her tunic legs, and sat back too, her head lolling back as she stared up at the ceiling bulkhead. She sighed, closed her eyes, and turned her head towards Ancetius before speaking again, her face showing the exhaustion she was feeling.
“I talked to Old Man Travis about perhaps replacing the port heat-sinks – heck, anything will be better than the current batch – but he says we’ll need to do some heavy refitting for that. That, and a lot of this.” She brought her right hand up, rubbed the thumb and index fingers together a few times to imply money, then settled back again with another sigh. “Sometimes I don’t even know why we bother…”
“Because you’re the best goddamn female pilot this side of Clan space.” Ancetius reached out, took her small hand in his, and simply held on, their fingers entwined – hers white and slender, his thick and callused - the hands of a man who was not afraid of heavy work when it came his way. “I’ll have a word with Travis, and we’ll have a look next time we run into the Foxes.” The Sea Foxes, a warrior Clan turned merchant nation, would trade or sell anything – at the right price, of course – and their access to the precision-engineered technology that had made the Clans so infamous many years ago now made them some of the most powerful players on the military hardware market. “I’m sure they’ll have some aerospace spares lying around that we could relieve them of.” He looked down at the woman next to him and gave her hand a slight squeeze so that she opened her eyes and looked at him. “They might even have something bigger that…”
His sentence was interrupted by rumble of igniting fusion engines, and the countdown’s final step.
“One. Ignition. Commencing one point five gee burn to St. Andre. Estimated time of arrival is…” A pause, then, “… four days from now.”
Seated in the couch, Ancetius could feel himself get progressively heavier as the DropShip accelerated, his body sinking away into the padded surface. Gravity became normal for only a fraction of a second, and then got steadily heavier as the acceleration continued. The monitors ringing the observation deck had been switching off in ones and twos during the countdown, and now only one remained, offset to Ancetius’ right, showing the flight details as the DropShip started its flight down to the waiting planet in a flow of constantly-scrolling red letters. When the acceleration counter hit one point five, the tug of gravity aboard the ship stabilized, and Ancetius could move again to unbuckle his harness.
“Anyway, like I said – we’ll have a look. For now, I guess we just have to make do with what we have. After all, we’re just a bunch of mercs – things aren’t supposed to be easy for us.” He got up, feeling his knees buckle slightly as his body grew accustomed to the heavier gravity, and extended a hand to Shiina as she too got up. She just smiled and shook her head from side to side.
“I think I’m going to be heading for our cabin – this ‘small’ problem was more of an issue than I expected.” She stifled a yawn, looking for all the world like a baby kitten as she covered her mouth with her hands, and then leaned in towards Ancetius again, giving him a kiss before turning away. “Don’t be long.”
“Sure.” He tipped her a chevalier salute, and smiled. “This ‘ere mercenary captain just has a few things to sort out before he can join his esteemed mistress. Be with you in thirty.”
“You’ve got twenty-five. Then I’m locking the door.” She grinned back over her shoulder and headed for the corridor hatchway, leaving Ancetius standing in the center of the observations deck even as the hatch closed behind her again.
Turning back towards the control center, Ancetius was just in time to see the DropShip captain haul himself up onto the observation deck, boots clunking loudly as he traversed the last steps of the ladder that lead from the lower decks. Wearing a set of black spacer pants with twin red lines down the outside of each leg, an off-white shirt that was tucked in at the waist and rolled up at the elbows, and a set of old-fashioned military jackboots, he did not strike one as someone to be trifled with. Gravity had dispelled the halo of floating hair around his head, returning them to their natural position, and his neck seemed to grow straight out of the open collar of the shirt he wore.
“Mister Korvack!” The captain’s voice was loud but deep, and seemed to carry its own bass fill with it. “Not heading off to join your missus, are you?”
“Nope. I thought I’d stay here and spoil your view of the deck.” Ancetius chuckled, and went to join the captain where he had turned and now stood watching out over the control center in much the same way Ancetius had before the ship had disconnected from the SwordSworn carrier. Here, in the hub of the ship, the activity was dying down as crewmen went off-duty and terminals were slaved over to the main command, until only a few men and women besides the two men on the upper deck remained.
“What a view to spoil.” The captain shook his head, and pointed to one of the displays mounted lower down in the center. On a holo-projector table, tracked and fed by the same cameras that had provided Ancetius’ view during the separation, a scaled-down model of the second DropShip floated a few inches off the table’s surface, the gray of its hull glowing brightly in the darkened recesses of the center. Christened the Gadermon, the three-thousand ton Intruder-class ship carried the Cossacks’ fleet of light vehicles, and was currently carrying a mixed load of light hovercraft like the Drillson, Saladin and Harasser, as well as a trio of light assault VTOL’s. One of the newest additions to their force, the VTOLs, of the Mantis class and weighing in at a mere fifteen tons, were replacing a lance of older Sprint Scout VTOLs, and had already proven their worth admirably during a counter-insurgency action on the Davion-held world of Valexa, against Capellan raiders. Here in space though, the ship had to rely on its own weapons and the skill of the single aerospace fighter it carried – a F92 Stingray, piloted by an ex-FedCom pilot.
“I had a talk with Vanderman just before the jump – he says the Gadermon is running fine for now, but he’ll be needing time at a repair facility once we make planet-fall,” the captain continued, and shook his head. “Come February, that Intruder will be something like two hundred and forty years old, and he says it’s starting to show.”
Ancetius laughed.
“On him, yes, but not the ship. The Gadermon is still fine – at Valexa, he took off under a Cappie artillery barrage and didn’t even lose a single tanker.”
“Well, that’s not how he sees it.” The captain was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Talking about the Cappies – we’ll probably be running into them here, and it’s going to be a nasty fight when we do.”
“Probably, but hopefully not. Our contract has ‘garrison duty’ written on the first page, as well as every page after that. If the Duke wants to throw us into a meat-grinder, he’ll have to take out a new contract – and then he’ll have to pay.”
“Crafty bugger, that one.” The captain shifted, leaning on his elbows on the handrail and glanced over at Ancetius. “It’s easier to get someone for garrison duty than for a frontline brawl, and once we’re contracted, he can easily just throw in a few million more C-Bills and have us moved to the frontline.”
“Yes - either that, or he honestly think the Cappies won’t break for St. Andre again.” The two men looked at each other, then both snorted in derision.
“Yeah – right.” They were quiet for a while, watching the now almost-deserted decks, before Ancetius shifted and stood away from the railing.
“Anyway, I still have a few more things to do before I turn in for the night.”
“I bet.” O’Connell grinned and looked at his watch. “How long did she give you?”
Ancetius felt the grin spread over his face, and looked away to the airlock. “I still have to look up on the rest of the family, so I’ll have to be off now. Tomorrow then.” He touched his fingers to his forehead in an imitation of a salute, then turned and headed for the hatchway. Behind him, the captain simply laughed.
A few decks down, in what had once been a bay for carrying two BattleMech lances and now held twelve heavy vehicle berths, Ancetius exited the service elevator just in time to meet his younger sister heading up to her bunkroom. Reaching level with his shoulder, with brown hair so dark it seemed almost black, and a wide, easy smile, she bore almost no resemblance to any of the other Korvack brothers, but she did have one trademark they all shared – their mother’s eyes. Dark brown around the edges and a lighter shade of green around the center, they were filled with a fierce determination and could hide emotions and feelings very well behind their dark centers. Now, however, they seemed to mirror the same weariness that he had seen with Shiina only minutes ago, and he reached out the give her a sympathetic hug as he stepped out of the elevator.
“Hey Jaime. Long day, huh?”
“I should have stayed in bed this morning.” She gave a groan, stepped back and pulled a stray strand of hair back behind her one ear. “This flying business doesn’t quite work for me.”
“Jump Sickness – the only thing worse than a hang-over.” Ancetius nodded. “I feel for you, sis.”
Wearing a set of grayish-green cargo pants and an olive-green tank top, she seemed more like a grungy teenager than a BattleMech pilot of twenty-five, but Ancetius of all people knew not to be fooled by her appearance. Piloting an old Star League-era Hunchback that had been meticulously restored and maintained since the day it had become the property of the Korvack family, she was one of the heaviest hitters in the Cossacks, with a personal tally of seven Mechs of equivalent weight, and more than fifty combat vehicles. If there was one thing that did get her down though, it was space travel.
“Thanks. But I think sleep is the only thing that’s going to help now.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you.” He stepped away from the elevator door and watched her get in and punch the code for her deck. “I assume the rest of the guys are still around? Ben’s probably playing cards, right?”
“Right.” She pointed to the opposite side of the bay, where a group of figures were clustered around the nose of an Schrek PPC Carrier. A circular bay some fifty meters in diameter, the number two bay on the Union-class DropShip had been refitted, years before ending up in Cossack possession, to take twelve large vehicle berths instead of the original eight BattleMech cubicles. With Devlin Stone’s reforms and philosophies spreading throughout the Sphere, the need for dedicated Mech carriers had decreased, and the choice to convert to a combined-arms company of Mechs and vehicles had seemed only logical. It now acted as the prime hauler of hardware for the Cossacks, and although the designs that filled the bay were not the best or most advanced available, they were still lethal in the hands of their crews, most of which have been using their particular vehicle for several years. To the left of the elevator, a sixty-five ton Marksman self-propelled gun was parked, the stubby barrel elevated at its maximum angle and draped in tarpaulin cloth, while the berth to the right carried two fifty ton Vedette medium tanks that had been double-berthed, standing nose-to-tail and with their turrets twisted away to the side. Other berths contained double-berthed Condor hovertanks, more Marksman and Schrek tanks, and even a Demon wheeled tank parked in the number twelve berth just to the left of Ben’s tank. In total, the bay held a reinforced company of fifteen vehicles, and would serve as their main center of operations once they made planet-fall. For now though, the overhead gantries were empty, the cranes retracted and tied down, and the engineering booths dark and quiet. Here and there, figures moved among the vehicles as crewmembers checked and touched up on little details, but the greater part of the company had already retired for the night.
“He says he’s just waiting for ‘bout another hour, then they’re going to turn in. Something about a diagnostic check he’s running on the Schrek’s main controls.” Slow, and carrying a mere seven and a half tons of armor for something its size, the Schrek had been designed for long-range support fire, and carried three particle cannons to accomplish this goal. The primary drawback of the particle cannons were their inefficiency at short range, and so Ancetius younger brother had made what he liked to call a ‘little’ change. He had removed the center-mounted particle cannon from the turret, along with the large amounts of heat-sinks needed to handle its massive heat output, and had replaced it with an Class 10 ultra autocannon and something in the region of four tons of ammunition. The autocannon had been salvaged from a Patton tank he and his crew had knocked out themselves, and now provided sterling short-ranged support for his tank, which they had called Gollum, from a popular novel of the twentieth century.
“Okay, I’ll have a look. You sleep tight.”
“Night. See you tomorrow.” The elevator doors closed, and Ancetius turned and walked along the side of the bay over to the card-players. The center of the deck was fitted with a large circular hatchway – currently closed for the duration of the flight – that could be opened to allow the overhead maintenance cranes access to the lower deck, where the four Mechs were stationed. Yellow and black hazard lines had been painted on the deck and a set of light railing led along the side of the hatch, and it was these that he followed as he walked. The deck was scuffed and worn with the passage of countless armored treads and heavy-duty tires, and rubber skid-marks were visible at semi-regular intervals. He walked the last few feet with the sound of laughter ringing through the bay as his brother made a comment of some kind to the other players, and could just imagine what had been said. His brother’s sense of humor included a wide range of vulgar and raunchy jokes, comments and statements, and he had a very sharp tongue when it came to insults. The comment must have worked though – as Ancetius reached the group and came to a stop at his brother’s shoulder, two of the other players lay their cards down on the table, and the woman, a redhead by the name of Sandra Jameson, gave one last look at her cards before folding as well.
“Brother. Folks. Nice to see you’re doing your part to keep the morale high, Ben.” At twenty-seven, Benjamin Korvack was only a year younger than his brother, but was a good ten centimeters taller, and built like a football player. Brown hair, slightly darker than that of Ancetius, and without the red tint, hung back from his head, and the over-all he wore bulged around his shoulders and upper arms as he collected the cards and dealt another hand.
“Yup. Need to keep their pockets empty, otherwise they wouldn’t want to be mercs any more.”
“Yeah – what happened to the whole thing of ‘Get Rich As A Mercenary’? We though we were gonna see the Sphere!” The woman, Sandra, was the captain from one of the Condors berthed next to Ben’s Schrek, and she smiled broadly as she picked up her new hand. “It’s called propaganda, y’know – when you lie to the masses?”
“Well,” and Ben was quick to defend himself, discarding two cards from his hand and taking two from the stack even as he spoke, “You have seen a lot more of the Sphere. It’s not my fault if half of it is trying to kill you, and the other half would be more than happy to never see you again.” He gave his cards one last looked and then nodded at the next player, who was also his gunnery officer. “And secondly, when did we ever propagate to the masses? You joined us out of your own free will, young lady – don’t go blaming me for any second thoughts you’re having now!”
“Well, look at it this way, Ben – she probably thought she was getting away from guys like you.” Ancetius grinned and hoisted himself up to join them on the nose. Beneath the mighty barrels of the particle cannons, a table had been jury-rigged from two fuel cans and an empty ammunition box’s lid, and the four players now sat flat on the hull around the rickety affair. “You know, not all women are suckers for that ‘boyish charm’ of yours.”
“Screw you, fly-boy.” Ben threw a one-fingered salute in his direction, and gave a laugh. “I’m not the one that went halfway around the Sphere to get a piece of the Dragon.”
“Ooh, low blow!” Ancetius pretended to stagger back, holding a hand over his heart as if mortally injured. “How could you do that to your own brother?”
‘Easy – ‘cause you just cost me the game!” This time it was the hovertank captain that collected the small heap of coins and notes, and she winked at Ancetius.
“Keep it up Commander – at least I’ll not be completely bankrupt at the end of the night!” This time, the other players joined in the laughter, and Ancetius swung back from the hull, holding on to the starboard cannon.
“I’d love to staying and help you kick this monkey’s ass,” he said, aiming a playful kick at Benjamin’s back, “ but I have someone waiting for me. I’ll see you all again tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah – you ride that dragon, boy!” Benjamin shouted back at him as he leapt down from the tank, and this time it was Ancetius’ turn to throw a finger back. He took the number one elevator, situated between Ben’s berth and the parked Demon tank, back up to the living quarters and was standing in front of his and Shiina’s small bunkroom a few minutes later. Checking his watch, he saw that he was in fact early – the twenty-five minutes she had given him was still far from up. When he opened the door and stepped into the cabin though, he saw that even those twenty-five minutes had been too long. Curled up on her side of the small bed, the Kuritan girl was fast asleep, her hair loose and partially covering her face, the covers of the bed thrown far back. Her jumpsuit had been hung over the desk’s single chair, and the corner closet that held her clothing was still standing open, and the short pants that were supposed to go with the night-shirt she had managed to pull on was still lying on the floor. The light was still on, and Ancetius quickly undressed before hitting the switch and joining Shiina in bed. Cuddling up against her back, he draped one arm across her waist, and was himself fast asleep within the space of a few heartbeats. Around him, the DropShip continued on its path towards the distant St. Andre, where Duke Aaron Sandoval and his cousin, Erik Sandoval-Groell, were just sitting down for supper.
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the spacing is not quite what it is supposed to be, but I hope it will be readable. Enjoy!
Evolve or Die
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