Utopian
02/02/10 01:30 PM
214.13.16.115
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All,
Been wanting to try telling a story for a while now. This semi-original silly concept started back on starlance.com when the original Mechcommander game was popular (1997-8). There was an open ended story thread written by multiple people, with no apparent aim or outline, but it was hilarious. It combined Battletech, Star Wars, the Bud Ice Penguins, and several other stolen elements to it, with plenty of jokes about being drunk and ordering out for tacos. Unfortunately, the original story has been lost.
The second version of the story (ACT II) was created a couple of years ago, with contributions by myself, Flushmaster, and Lord Quimbley. Fortunately, I saved it to a word document, and it ended up being 82 pages long. I'm actually editing it for content right now, trying to smooth it out and correct dozens of gramatical errors. However, I miss the story itself, so I've decided to try to start ACT III.
This story takes place 20 years after ACT II, in June 3090. The basic theme is the ridiculous nature of product placement in the B-Tech Universe, combined with any comedic elements. Everyone is welcome to contribute to the story, and specifically, an antagonist is needed as a foil for the hero. A straight man and the hapless victim would be great additions as well. So here we go, the beginning of ACT III (So far untitled)
Edited by Utopian (02/02/10 01:41 PM)
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Utopian
02/02/10 01:32 PM
214.13.16.115
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CHAPTER ONE: DON’T CALL HER “STAXX”
Lucy Jackson felt like she was cursed. She was intelligent, talented, and made a mean martini. Unfortunately, she also had a temper. And that temper had gotten her into more trouble than possibly anyone in existence. And it was all because of her nickname.
As a child, Lucy had a voracious appetite for knowledge. When she wasn’t on the playground dominating the kickball field, she was in the school library reading anything she could get her hands on. As there was usually a stack of books somewhere near her, her childhood friends started calling her “Staxx”. She actually liked the nickname. It made her feel like she belonged. Not to mention it enhanced her reputation during gym class.
Then puberty happened. At first she thought nothing of it, for she still had a fearsome reputation, now on the dodgeball court. With her long red hair whipping around her head and a flick of the wrist, she was simply queen of the court. However boys were starting to notice her. Of course she was fine with that, but then she started to realize that boys were not noticing her, they were noticing her chest. This was really starting to annoy her. Then she met Peter Hines.
Pete was the new kid in school. Desperate to fit in, he was up for any prank, and any way to get noticed. Then he noticed Lucy. He asked around about her and was told “Oh you mean Staxx? Be careful with her, she’ll mess you up in gym class.” This was the singular event that changed Lucy’s life for the worse. One day, Pete finally worked up the nerve to talk to her, and low and behold it ended in disaster. Instead of introducing himself in the suave man-about-town manner he practiced, he instead stammered “You must be Staxx” while ogling her chest. Needless to say, Lucy ended up in detention, and Pete went home with two black eyes and a broken arm. Lucy despised her nickname ever since. And her classmates never let her live it down.
Desperate to change her image, Lucy poured herself into her studies. She became a natural athlete, the top student in her class, and a classic over-achiever. And still, she couldn't get away from her nickname. When she graduated, not only did she hold the highest grade point average ever in her school, she also held the record for the most time in detention. And still to this day, “Staxx” Jackson is still the talk about the school and town.
Lucy decided to get out of town. Since her grades were so high, she applied to and was accepted to the Planetary Militia’s Officer Candidate School. For four years she maintained a level of excellence that bordered on brilliance. She showed particular aptitude in the battlemech simulators, where she routinely thrashed both students and instructors alike. She graduated top of her class and was commissioned a Lieutenant.
The now freshly minted Lieutenant Lucy Jackson immediately made a name for herself. Assigned an 80 ton Thug, she integrated into her new lance command easily. The unit’s performance in simulators and field exercises increased rapidly, and her lance became the talk of the battalion. She was so successful that she was promoted to Captain in record time. Then Sally Jones, her lance’s scout pilot, got pregnant and reassigned. Her replacement, much to Lucy’s horror, was none other than Private Peter Hines.
Now it was generally agreed amongst the male Mechwarriors of the battalion that the young Captain Lucy Jackson was not only easy on the eyes, but also superbly built in the torso area. However no one dared say anything because it was also generally agreed that she could kick everyone’s ass. But alas, everything finally came to a head on a pleasant Tuesday afternoon in the field.
The battle problem itself wasn’t difficult, the objective was to proceed to point alpha without being detected. However, Private Hines’ performance was inadequate and gave Lucy’s unit position away. The opposing force made a simulated attack and in the midst of the confusion, a 50 ton Enforcer managed to gain a superior position for a flanking shot on Lucy’s Thug. The gun camera footage of what happened next became an underground hit in the battalion. Private Hines, piloting the lance’s scout, a 20 ton Stinger, shouted “Watch it Staxx! On your right!” Seconds later the exercise was halted as every battlemech on the field converged on Lucy’s Thug in a vain attempt to pull it away from Hines’s Stinger, as Lucy had ripped its arm off and was beating the machine into the ground with it.
Thus began the period in Lucy’s life in which she was busted to Lieutenant and promoted to Captain four times. (Another dubious record never again matched by the way) Eventually, the battalion learned to quit calling her “Staxx”, not because watching the results weren’t fun anymore, but because the chain of command was getting fed up with all the expensive repairs that were needed to the unit’s battlemechs after each ”Staxx” incident.
Then, the pirates hit.
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Tuesday, June 27th, 3090. The newly re-promoted Captain Jackson was leading her company in a live fire field maneuver exercise. So far the company had successfully navigated their way through four of the five planned checkpoints and was only about two hours from the final checkpoint and live fire portion of the exercise. However something was wrong. The usual radio chatter from headquarters was silent for at least the last four hours. And Lucy’s sixth sense was making her edgy.
It was during the planned break in the company’s march that she happened to look up.
Streaking across the sky like a meteor, a dropship was coming in for a landing not far from her company’s position. Knowing that nothing even close to this was covered in the mission briefing, Lucy shouted for her troops to mount up and move out. With no idea what was going on, and unable to raise headquarters, Lucy could only conclude that the planet was either under attack or being raided. Not entirely sure where the enemy was going to come down, she split her company by sending her two lances out towards her flanks, while she led her lance directly toward the landing site. For 30 minutes no one reported any contact. Then it began raining LRM’s.
Much to her credit, Lucy’s troops recovered from the surprise assault very quickly. Damage was minor, but it was enough to scatter her lance. Lucy’s Thug was separated from the rest of her lance when the Charger burst from the trees at a dead run.
Chaos erupted as an entire battlemech company burst from the cover of the trees. Lucy reacted immediately, however the range closed too rapidly and the rest of her company was too spread out to support her. Her Thug was soon grappling with the enemy Charger in a 160 ton dance of death.
Enter now Corporal Hines and his battered Stinger. Quickly realizing that the only way he was going to survive this fight was to stay close to the Captain, his mech emerged from a stand of trees just in time to see an enemy Centurion raise its Luxor autocannon for the killing shot to the back of Lucy’s Thug. Panic in his voice, Corporal Hines forgot everything he had ever learned since he had joined the unit. “Staxx! Behind you!” he shouted.
What happened next is now legend in the Militia. One second the Charger and the Thug had a death grip on each other. In the next second, the Charger’s gyroscopes came flying out its shoulders from a savage kick as in the same moment Lucy’s Thug literally bitch-slapped the closing Centurion in the head with a back-hand. As both battlemechs crumpled to the ground, Lucy’s Thug grabbed a nearby 40 ton Clint and promptly pile drove it head first into the ground. Before the enemy commander could even order a retreat Lucy had ripped the leg off the crushed Clint and was beating his 70 ton Warhammer mercilessly about the head and shoulders with it. By this time, the enemy commander was screaming his surrender and pleading for mercy while the rest of his company had already fled for their dropship, not wanting anything to do with taking on that deranged Thug. It took another 20 minutes to get Lucy to calm down and another 2 hours to pry the now hysterical pirate commander from the ruined cockpit of his destroyed Warhammer.
For her amazing performance against the enemy, Lucy was immediately promoted to Major and given command of her battalion. And Lucy had finally come full circle with her nickname. The Second Battalion, 5th Utopian Militia was known officially known as the “Don’t Call Her Staxx” Battalion. And secretly, she loved it.
Edited by Utopian (02/03/10 12:46 PM)
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Utopian
02/02/10 03:00 PM
214.13.16.115
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CHAPTER TWO: EVIL GOES BANKRUPT
Kinnison Quimbley, Director and CEO or the Quimbley Industries Empire, leaned back in his chair while rubbing his temples. His personal assistant, Voight, stood silently off to the side in the darkly lit office. “Sir, are you sure you won’t reconsider?” he said.
Quimbley paused for a minute, but finally resigned himself to the inevitable. “We don’t have a choice Voight. We’re too old and too irrelevant to be of any use to this version of events, with the exception of providing background to the script.” He gestured to the enormous encyclopedic sized script sitting on his desk.
“Surely we have some relevance this time sir. Your son is anything but the anti-hero called for this time.”
“It seems that with each version of this story, the part of “evil villain” literally went from “evil lite”, to “not-quite-as-evil-as-the-last-villain”. And do me a favor Voight. Quit calling me Shirley”
“Sorry sir. But you have to admit, we have owned every aspect of the beverage market for the last 20 years. We’re rich! This upstart company, CRB Beverages. Surely it can’t be that much of a threat to us.”
“Anything, even this small, is a threat Voight. I will not tolerate ANY competition in the beverage market. Now would you please QUIT calling me Shirley!”
“Sorry sir. But your son? He literally ruined your stock options in WOB Foods. Because of him no one eats or drinks WOB Milk or Cookies anymore! And no one wants to buys the WOB Hornet, as everyone know it will randomly eject you like a piece of burnt toast!”
“There’s nothing I can do Voight. The script specifically names him as the anti-hero.”
“But he also has 7 warrants out for his arrest! The mere mention of his presence usually sends people screaming for cover, and is directly responsible for the destruction of the FWLM National Forest! And that happened 3 times! Oh, and let’s not even go near his infamous version of the Macarena!”
“The one in the thong?”
“The very same sir. Hot Void, the HOC government has issued orders to shoot on suspicion of sight! Wait a minute, now that I think of it, maybe he IS suitably evil enough.”
“Tell you what Voight. Since you seem so passionate about this subject, and we still need to tie old characters into this new version of the story, I am officially naming you as my son’s protector and advisor.”
Voight was stunned. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. Hot Void! There’s no way I’m going to survive this version of events! Resigned to certain humiliation and a painful death, Voight saw that there was no getting out of this one.
“When do I start sir?” he said with resignation.
“Tuesday. Meet him at the spaceport. A shuttle will take you to the fleet. I know it’s been mothballed for the last 10 years, but a portion of it is now operational. You should have enough assets to complete your mission, but as more of the fleet becomes ready, you’ll be able to draw on any replacements your require.”
“But he doesn’t have a clue sir!” Voight was now plainly whining. Quimbley couldn’t blame him, his son was that dangerous. But then, only Voight had a remote chance of controlling his son’s shenanigans. Well, at least the upcoming chaos should be pretty entertaining.
Voight turned and left the office, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Why me?” he muttered under his breath.
________________________________________
It was Tuesday. The dreaded day had come. Trying to avoid even the thought of what was going to happen next, Voight had buried himself in reports from the fleet. He had 6 Heineken class destroyers at his disposal. More than enough to protect the 10 invader class jumpships in orbit right now, along with the dropships needed to transport the battlemechs needed for this mission. The Heineken class. Never tested in combat, the Heineken literally looked like a beer keg. It had a flat nose that bristled with naval class weapons, a round heavily armored mid-section, with the engines and solar sail coming out the aft end of the hull. The heavy docking ring that encompassed the mid hull did everything to amplify the look of a beer keg. Hmm I wonder, does that mean combat with these ship should be called a “kegger?”
Voight shook his head, bringing himself out of that particularly disturbing thought. And immediately winced. For there he was, fully enjoying his return to the spotlight. Voight had found his charge.
His name was Peel.
Edited by Utopian (02/03/10 12:49 PM)
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Utopian
02/03/10 12:19 PM
214.13.16.115
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CHAPTER 3: FETCH!
The Neveron system was infamous throughout the Inner Sphere, for no other reason than the amount of carnage created there. The day Peel was reported to have left the system, there was stunned silence. Three days later, every faction and empire signed a historic peace document. Leaders across the planet finally admitted that reason they kept attacking their neighbors was not for any political, military, or economic gain, but because they were afraid that Peel was nearby. It turned out that ruining one’s entire economy was preferable to the mere perception that Peel might be walking the streets.
A day after the signing of the peace treaty, the nations of Neveron signed an epic defense pact. Peel was never to be allowed near the system again. Then, they ordered out for tacos and threw the mother of all parties. The entire planet was hung over for the next week. The tacos never showed up.
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Voight had a migraine. 3 days after leaving the Neveron system, Peel had been named in 12 separate sexual harassment complaints. The ship’s Equal Opportunity Officer had a line of both men and women camped outside his office. And his repeated begging for Peel to knock it off fell on deaf ears.
Squeezing his stress ball, Voight felt he was out of options. He literally wanted to shove Peel out the airlock. But he couldn’t. The script for this nonsense specifically named Peel as a major character. Even using the ship’s Remco Pocket Lawyer™ was of no use, the poor thing simply shut down when it read the name “Peel”.
There was only one answer he could come up with. Only one man had ever managed to contain Peel, but unfortunately that control didn’t last long. It was a long shot, and Voight really didn’t think he had any other choice. Pressing the intercom button, he simply said “Captain, set course for the Rock Ridge system.”
________________________________________
The fleet appeared at the Zenith Jump Point of the Rock Ridge system in a flash of light and with the suds of a truly excellent brew. Voight had managed to coax Peel into the shuttle by promising him liberal amounts of beer, pretzels, and with repeated assurances that yes, there are topless bars on Rock Ridge. Finally settled in for the short trip, Voight prayed this would work.
________________________________________
Chester LaPonte was enjoying a beer and contemplating his new found wealth and power. The former Primus of the Word of Blake factions of Neveron was glad to be rid of those god forsaken morons. Still there were plenty of regrets. During his tenure as Primus, he had built the Blakists into a faction to be feared. Their training programs alone were so popular that Chet’s staff had to start turning away applicants. Then Peel showed up. While the legend of Peel hadn’t yet cemented itself into everyone’s memory yet, the effects of his presence were immediately felt. Within 3 weeks, Neveron was reeling from Peel’s drunken rampage. The Free Worlds League National forest had been burnt down, a database error had plunged the entire planet into darkness, and someone kept putting exploding cigars into mailboxes at the Sword of Light faction’s headquarters.
But what really cheesed Chet off was the fact that not only did Peel keep double parking his mech next to his, but he was also the culprit who ruined the Hornet project. It turns out Peel secretly moved the ejection seat production line to an abandoned pop-up toaster factory and introduced a random number generator to its design. The results were tragic yet insanely hilarious. The Word of Blake Hornet would now randomly eject you like a piece of burnt toast, for no apparent reason. Chet was ruined.
Fleeing the Neveron system forever, Chet had finally ended up on Rock Ridge. Seeing an opportunity with the hover rail system being built on the planet, Chet invested his last $2.83 in the project. He struck it big. Within a month, he was the richest man on the planet. Six months later, he was elected its governor. Now, he was the most powerful man in the system.
There was a knock at the door.
________________________________________
Voight was really getting annoyed. Every time he stopped to ask for directions, the person he was talking to invariably got a glimpse of Peel and ran off screaming in the other direction. Finally sick of it, he had to resort to shoplifting a city map from the local corner hyper-mart after the clerk locked himself into a broom closet. However, they finally made it to their destination. And in what appeared to be the standard now that Peel was involved, the mansion’s security guards took off screaming with one look at Peel.
Frustrated, Voight knocked on the door.
________________________________________
Chet picked up his beer, shuffled over to the foyer, and opened the door. Two men were standing there, one he didn’t recognize the other…..
Chet threw his beer in the face of the first man and slammed the door.
________________________________________
Voight was really getting sick of this. And dammit, that hurt! Getting a beer thrown in your face was one thing, but getting it slammed by a door? Didn’t anyone have any manners on this frakking planet?
Now royally pissed off, Voight started pounding on the door. “CHET! You frakking moron! Open the FRAKKING door!” There of course was no answer.
________________________________________
Chet was having a panic attack of epic proportions. What in the void was HE doing here? And how the frak did he get off Neveron? Nothing was making sense. Maybe this has something to do with that 30 pound book that got sent to me last week. Chet’s mind was now in overdrive. He had to come up with something fast, or the entire planet would be in ruins in a matter of hours.
Steeling himself for the inevitable, Chet grabbed the only thing in the entire house that would buy him some time. Maybe, just maybe, it would still work. The man was still pounding on the front door. Well, here goes nothing!
Chet opened the door wearing he best smile, completely catching Voight off guard. “May I help you?” he asked.
Voight was now totally flustered. “Yes, Would you happen to be Chester LaPonte?”
“Why yes, yes I am. Would you excuse me for just a second?”
Chet turned his attention to Peel. Peel just looked at him, his head cocked to the side expectantly. Suddenly, the tennis ball flew from Chet’s hand, sailing over the bushes. “Peel, FETCH!”
Peel took off like a shot with a look of pure joy on his face.
Edited by Utopian (02/04/10 08:08 AM)
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Utopian
02/03/10 02:45 PM
214.13.16.115
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CHAPTER 4: YOU’RE KIDDING, RIGHT?
Lucy was in trouble again. The celebrations had lasted all week, which also happened to coincide with the annual battalion mixer. And once again Private Hines was involved.
Lucy was finally feeling good about herself. It seemed the ghosts of her past had finally been laid to rest after the victory over the pirates. Everyone looked and treated her with respect now. So, armed with newfound confidence, Lucy decided it was time to figuratively “let her hair down” and enjoy herself.
At 2000 hours, Lucy arrived at the mixer. Looking amazing in her sequined gown, the entire auditorium fell silent at her entrance. She felt like a princess. 30 minutes later she was being dragged to the stockade by several very large military policemen. And there was Private Hines, dangling upside down from the ceiling’s rafters by his ankles, secured there by Lucy’s pantyhose. Hines had called her “Staxx” again while ogling her chest.
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Lucy stood at parade rest outside the General’s office, still dressed in her evening gown, albeit minus her shoes and stockings. Two very large MP’s stood flanking her, with a very nervous third MP in front of her, pointing his stunner at her. His hands were really shaking. Hot VOID, this chick is nuts!
However, much to his relief, this lunatic of a woman was called into the office without much of a wait.
________________________________________
The General was seated behind his desk. To his left, another man, wearing a black suit and tie, sat reading what appeared to be Lucy’s service record. Lucy was standing at attention in front of the desk.
With a grunt and a wave of his hand the three MP’s left Lucy standing there, wondering what in the world was going on. “This isn’t the procedure for getting busted” she thought to herself.
Finally, the General broke the silence. “Dressing a bit informally these days, eh Major?”
He called her “Major”. Maybe she wasn’t busted!
“Major, I want you to meet Mr. Watson. He comes from the Ministry of Standards, Measures, and Beverages.”
Lucy was now confused. She had never heard of that organization. More importantly, it wasn’t in the chain of command!
“I can see you’re confused Major. Not to worry, we didn’t even know we existed until 20 minutes ago either.” Watson stood up, and crossed the room. “What you’re about to be briefed on is so secret, that no one in the government knows anything about it.”
The General activated the holoviewer. “Major, what do you know about your uncle?”
Lucy thought hard. “Not much sir. I haven’t even met him. My father thought he was a loon though.”
Watson glanced up at her. “He wasn’t Major. His Doctor was.”
The room fell silent as Lucy watched the briefing. Between 20 year old stock market reports, space battles, the destruction of a planet, and plenty of references to spam, Lucy found herself very confused.
The briefing ended. Lucy was scratching her head. “I don’t understand what that was and what it has to do with me.” she said.
“Let me explain it to you then Major.” the General said. “Your antics, while making you a legend around here, have made you a liability. The military simply can’t afford to keep repairing everything you break when you lose your temper. However, we can’t ignore your talent either. Intelligence tells us that the pirate band that you thrashed last Tuesday broke up and went home, swearing to never again consider piracy, or any other crime, as an occupational choice again. And as you know this planet is so far outside known space that the only threat we ever faced was those pirates. Now there’s no reason to even keep a military. So, effective immediately, you are discharged from service. However, as punishment for assaulting Private Hines, you are hereby commissioned a Major with the Ministry of Standards, Measurements, and Beverages, effective immediately.”
Lucy was stunned. Discharged? Beverages? What in the Void is going on here?
Mr. Watson spoke softly. “Major, we need your help. Yesterday we received an encoded message. It simply said “Containment lost. Initiate Omega initiative.” 10 minutes later the local COMSTAR station delivered that.” Watson was pointing to a book, the size of which made “War and Peace” look like a limerick.
“What is that?”
“That Major, is the reason you’re here. It’s the script to all this nonsense!”
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Utopian
02/04/10 10:16 AM
214.13.16.115
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CHAPTER 5: INTRODUCTIONS
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Lucy was busy packing. There actually wasn’t that much to pack anymore since she was no longer in the militia. But still, she was stalling. She wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
Watson was standing over by the dresser, trying to help. For the most part, everything was being tossed into a pile to be turned back into supply, with the exception of things like her pilot suits, cooling vest, and other essential items the typical MechWarrior might need in the cockpit or the field.
Suddenly it was quiet. Lucy, confused by the sudden silence, looked up. Watson stood there, his face turning several shades of red at once. Holding out his hand, there was a particularly sheer and lacey unmentionable item of “sleepwear” dangling by a spaghetti strap from his fingers. The only thing he could think of to say was “Is this standard issue?”
Now Lucy was turning five shades of red. Hot void! This was embarrassing! “Gimmie that!” she snapped as she snatched the flimsy garment from Watson’s fingers. Getting into his face, she then snarled in a low and menacing tone “One peep of this and you’ll wish you were Corporal Hines”
Watson had recovered, and now seemed totally unfazed by Lucy’s sudden hostility. “Whatever you say Staxx.”
Lucy was about to tear Watson apart. Then it dawned on her. He said it to her face, not her chest. All of a sudden, her rage was gone. It was replaced by respect. Hot void, he had the stones to stand up to me! Finally, someone who wasn’t a sniveling boob! Hey, I could get to like this guy, she thought.
They finished packing in silence. Twenty minutes later, Lucy left her quarters for the last time, sad to leave her old life behind and yet thrilled to be off on a new adventure.
________________________________________
Lucy and Watson had arrived at the spaceport. Having never been off planet before, Lucy was really excited. Whee! This is going to be fun! But before they were to board the dropship, she had to meet her team. This nonsense wasn’t going to succeed unless she had a supporting cast of characters.
________________________________________
Watson walked through the door to the briefing room first. “Ten-HUT!” he shouted, while at the same time several individuals jumped to attention. Except one. He had tripped and was trying to untangle himself from his chair.
Watson continued to speak. “Everyone, meet your new Commanding Officer. Major Lucy Jackson. Major, let me introduce your team.” Watson lead her over to four very intimidating men that looked more like criminals than soldiers.
Major, meet Captain Furstenberg. His unit is your clandestine operations group. We recruited them yesterday when the local police arrested them trying to steal the Governor’s hoverlimo. Turns out these four have more arrest warrants outstanding than any criminal in the history of the planet. Once your uncle saw the arrest report, he immediately recognized Furstenberg’s name. Turns out his father used to be associated with your uncle. So we “offered” them a job. Turns out, crime has a lousy dental plan.”
Furstenberg had a ridiculous smirk on his face as he shook Lucy’s hand. “We’re looking forward to stealing something for you Ma’am.” The other three men were grinning like they’d just successfully robbed Disney Planet and were nodding their heads in agreement.
Lucy didn’t know how to react. Throw them in the brig, or sit back and unleash them on the Inner Sphere? She decided the later would probably be more entertaining. But still, it might be prudent to lock her door at night.
Watson led her over to another three individuals. “Major, meet Sergeants Green and Green.” Lucy shook hands with the two women. “Call me Hal. My sister goes by “Sal”. This slightly deranged gentlemen here is Doctor Scully Bunsen, our resident theoretical expert and bartender.”
Lucy frowned. Hmm, sisters. That was unusual. But, bartender?
“So what do you two pilot?” she asked.
Sal spoke up this time. “Hal has a modified Enfield, while I got the hand-me-down. I have a Dervish.”
Lucy was actually pleased with that news. Fire support for the brawlers. Now all we need is a scout…wait a minute.
“Who’s our last pilot?” she asked.
Before anyone could answer, Lucy had a sinking feeling in her gut. The guy who got tangled in his chair. Alarm bells were screaming in her head. Oh void. Not HIM!
Hal saw the look on Lucy’s face. “You know that buffoon?” All eyes except Lucy’s were now focused on the unit’s scout pilot.
A little too eagerly, Corporal Peter Hines walked up to the group and said “Hi Staxx!” while staring at the one thing he shouldn’t have.
Lucy promptly punched him out.
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Utopian
02/04/10 12:40 PM
214.13.16.115
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CHAPTER 6: ARE WE THERE YET?
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The modified Leopard class dropship blasted off the ferrocrete with the grace of a drunken swan.
Loaded down with over 200 additional tons of mass, the ancient ship’s apogee engines struggled against the gravity of the planet. But rise it did, and within ten minutes, Lucy and her unit of misfits were floating free in zero gravity. Wow! That was almost as good as sex! Can we do it again?
A chime sounded from the speaker mounted in the ceiling. “This is the Captain speaking. We’ve escaped the gravitational field and we are now commencing our approach. Expect to dock in 20 minutes. Bridge out.”
Well, at least everything seems to be going according to plan this time. Watson floated over to where Lucy was looking out a porthole.
“Nice view, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Trust me, it will amaze you every time.”
Every time? Had Watson been off world before?
“Tell me Watson. How long do you think it will take us to reach the Inner Sphere?”
“Give or take for the unexpected, and a pit stop at Omicron-Persei Eight, 3 months.”
“That long?!?”
“Your Uncle was desperate to get his people as far away as possible from the Inner Sphere. At the time it was too dangerous, and there were security leaks everywhere. Not to mention the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation was miffed at him for getting a fleet shot out from under him. The only way to survive and prepare for the future was to get as far away as possible.”
“Sounds like he took it to the extreme”
“Not at all. We had to make sure that any effects from those past events couldn’t interfere with anything.”
“And what were those?”
“Improbability Mechanics, Major” said Dr. Bunsen as he floated over to join Lucy and Watson. “The situation had gotten way out of hand. Things were so bad, even your Uncle’s nemesis disappeared.”
Lucy mulled that one over.
“Then how did it stop?” she asked.
“Quite simply, once that flock of seagulls got involved with those 99 red balloons, the Ministry of Silly Threads got involved and shut the whole thing down. You Uncle and everyone remotely associated with him were scrubbed from the database.”
“But you all know what happened.”
Watson glanced at the doctor. “That’s because you Uncle had all ready set us up safely outside the realm of the admins.”
“And who are the admins?”
“Rumor has it that the original admins were named Randy and Wayward Son. But they haven’t been seen in over 30 years. However, rumor has it that Randy will magically appear if someone utters the phrase “Server Reset” in the Neveron system.”
Lucy scratched her head. Admins? Server Reset? Hot void, were these guys mental or something?
Floating away from the two men, Lucy tried to make sense of everything she was learning. Maybe a nap would help. Or a martini.
________________________________________
It was their seventh jump. The Scout Class Jumpship they were on, the Thrall Demonstrative (affectionately called the T-D or Teddy by her crew), burst from hyperspace in an uninhabited system.
Lucy had been spending her time getting to know the men and women serving under her as well as training with them in the simulators. Furstenberg’s men were simply amazing when operating in their battlesuits, much to the frustration of Hal and Sal. They simply couldn’t find a way to stop them.
However, Furstenberg’s men had an immediate respect for the sisters as they repeatedly demonstrated solid tactical skills against them. Hines and his Stinger however, were another matter. Try as he might, Hines always seemed to make the wrong move at the wrong time. Hal and Sal wouldn’t go near him in the simulator anymore. And for good reason. The one time they moved to support Hines and his Stinger, Pete had actually sneezed at the wrong moment. The simulator pod, not knowing how to translate a sneeze into a movement a battlemech could emulate, translated it into what everyone agreed was a panicked flail. It also so happened that when Pete sneezed, he inadvertently squeezed the triggers on his joystick. The computer promptly killed Hal and Sal and sent Furstenberg’s men into hysterical laughter. Even Lucy couldn’t help it. And the only thing Pete could say was “excuse me.”
Later that night, a ship’s crewmember found Pete duct-taped naked to a chair wailing about the “Underpants Gnomes.”
Lucy thought it was hilarious.
________________________________________
The Thrall Demonstrative jumped again, continuing her lonely journey back to civilization and untold nonsense.
|
Utopian
02/05/10 10:40 AM
214.13.16.115
|
CHAPTER 7: PEEL HAPPENS
________________________________________
Once Chet got over his initial shock, he was all business. Over a couple of beers, Voight got down to explaining to Chet what was going on. But the further Voight got into the story, and with the liberal amount of alcohol being consumed, the less they paid attention to Peel. Several hours later, Voight suddenly looked up and said “Where’s Peel?”
Alarmed, Chet and Voight looked all over the mansion for him. Then they walked into the study. The liquor cabinet was smashed and empty.
Oh void, not again.
________________________________________
The duty sergeant picked up the phone. The thing had been ringing off the hook for the last twenty minutes, and he was really getting annoyed. Stupid crank callers. “Duty Sergeant. How can I help you?” he rattled off, not really paying much attention to it. Suddenly he sat up in his chair. “Are you sure?” The caller had his complete attention now. “Where? Lombard Street?” Wait a minute, Lombard street is just outside the gate! Suddenly, the sergeant dropped the phone and looked out the window. Oh FRAK! Lombard Street was burning. Six inches away from his hand was the alert button. He hit it so hard, it broke.
It was too late.
________________________________________
The 20 ton Hornet was either being piloted by a master, or a drunk as eyewitnesses reported later. It came out of nowhere, smashed through the militia post’s perimeter, stepped on the latrine, and knocked an entire parked battlemech company over. Then for good measure, it punted an armored personnel carrier down Mullberry Lane, and staggered off to the northeast.
The Militia post commander, who happened to be in the latrine at the time it was stepped on, managed to crawl out of the collapsed rubble, only to be greeted by the sight of his smashed company. Panic racing through his mind, he ran into the communications building and started screaming on the radio that the planet was under attack. Once his superior officer managed to get him calmed down and finally figured out what he was trying to say, it was now definitely too late. The Hornet had smashed through two more militia stations, and had knocked over the main communications tower downtown.
As such, mobilization orders didn’t reach the units they were intended for. Other units, having no idea what was happening, with the exception that there was some sort of attack going on, spilled into the streets firing on anything that moved. Friendly fire incidents became the norm. It was quite the urban renewal project.
Nerves were fraying fast.
________________________________________
Chet and Voight were suddenly very sober and very worried. Good grief, if Peel was on the loose, and drunk to boot, the disaster could be epic! There was a series of loud explosions from the direction of downtown. Pillars of smoke and fire raced into the sky. Voight turned to Chet and simply said “Well, at least we know where he is.” Chet wanted to cry. Oh Void! I’m ruined again!
There was only one thing Voight could think of to do. He pulled out his communicator. “General, send in the 5th Guards. Objectives are to restore order and contain the package.” Voight heard the General confirm the order. Maybe that would help.
It wouldn’t.
________________________________________
The commanding general of the planetary militia was screaming for more information. His staff was insisting that a full scale planetary invasion was happening, but he had yet to see any evidence to prove it. His radar operators insisted nothing was out there. The maintenance shop swore up and down that the radar system was “working just fine thank you very much!” Reports to the contrary kept pouring in.
Everyone was getting so annoyed by the phones ringing off the hook, that they just unplugged them. The direct result of which led to the carpet bombing of the amusement park.
There was a blip on radar.
________________________________________
The First Battalion, 5th Penguin Guards had been chosen to deploy to the planet to restore order. With great efficiency, the battalion’s three Union class dropships burned towards the planet at top speed, screened by six brand new and untested Jadgerbull heavy fighters. A series of tragic errors had just begun.
________________________________________
The radar operators reported now 3 large and 6 small contacts to the militia’s space defense command. With great efficiency, the confused Officer in Charge ordered all available assets into the area to repel the attackers before they could land. Reinforcements, eh? Darn clever, but not on my watch!
Ground controllers vectored 40 Thrush fighters for the intercept. A panicked request to the spaceport to activate any and all anti-aircraft units went out. Hot void! We have them now!
________________________________________
The lead Dropship was the first to pick up on the incoming fighters. Repeated calls over the radio went unanswered, as no one thought to call ahead and tell someone help was on the way. The dropship’s Tactical Action Officer could only conclude the incoming fighters were hostile, and ordered all stations weapons free.
________________________________________
Repeated calls to the incoming dropships continued to go unanswered. Not sure what to do, the fighter wing commander called for instructions. But he didn’t need an answer. The enemy fighters had turned directly at him. “This will be a quick fight” he muttered to himself.
________________________________________
The militia fighters collided with their opponents at about ten thousand meters. The defending Jadgerbull fighters were putting up a hard fight, however many of the militia’s Thrush fighters simply flew right past them and dove on the dropships.
The Dropships opened fire.
________________________________________
Captain Carl Von Stuben had served in the Lyran Armed Forces for almost 30 years as a Rifleman pilot before retiring to Rock Ridge. However boredom had set in, so he joined the militia just for the fun of it. His experience got him command of the spaceport’s Air Defense Company. Today was finally the day he had hoped for. He could finally shoot at something other than a drone. He ordered his company to deploy.
The stage was set for disaster.
________________________________________
The battalion commander was caught off guard by the surprising resistance being put up by those idiots down there. Don’t they know we’re here to help them? All ready one of the dropships had to abort and was frantically trying to get back in orbit. The fighter screen was gone. He had to get his unit on the ground fast, as they were sitting ducks in the middle of this mess. There was only one thing he could do. He called for reinforcements.
Within minutes, the rest of the 5th Penguin Guards were burning towards the planet.
________________________________________
Captain Von Stuben had just double checked his company’s placement. Hidden in their bunkers, his 60 ton Rifleman, three 65 ton Jagermech’s, and eight 80 ton Partisan tanks waited in silence. Nothing was going to land at my spaceport, no SIR! Not if I can help it.
________________________________________
The second dropship was in trouble. Raked by laser fire from the defending fighters, its captain had no choice but to order a combat drop. Twelve battlemechs jumped from the stricken dropship at about 4,000 meters. It didn’t help.
The last dropship was in the best shape. With mech doors open, landing gear extended, and braking engines burning hot, she looked like she was going to make it.
She was at one thousand meters.
All hell broke loose.
________________________________________
Captain Von Stuben was ecstatic. Those morons! Don’t they know how to invade a planet? With no remorse or hesitation, he simply shouted “LITE ‘EM UP!”
________________________________________
45 and 90 millimeter tracer shells fired from almost fifty autocannons ripped through the air, converging on the hapless Union. In seconds, her armored hull was torn to shreds and she was plummeting to the ground. It was the highlight of Carl Von Stuben’s life.
________________________________________
The mini mushroom cloud that appeared in the direction of the spaceport did nothing to help Chet and Voight’s situation. For the last 30 minutes they had been following the path of destruction left in Peel’s wake. The mystery of Peel’s disappearance was solved once they discovered that Peel had hotwired and stolen Chet’s Hornet. They then had been dodging all the trigger happy militia units all over town. On a fluke, they turned a corner.
There was Chet’s Hornet, double parked in front of a topless bar. A hapless rookie police officer was standing under it, trying to figure out where the license plates were, so he could write the ticket.
________________________________________
On the other side of Lyran space, Kinnison Quimbley sat in shock. The news on the holovid was covering the disaster on Rock Ridge. He was speechless.
Somehow, he didn’t think his insurance was going to cover this.
Edited by Utopian (02/05/10 04:16 PM)
|
Utopian
02/05/10 03:37 PM
214.13.16.115
|
CHAPTER 8: CRIME SPREE RENEWED
________________________________________
The Thrall Demonstrative burst into normal space at the nadir jump point below the world of Palladix, in Magistry space. Lucy and her crew of misfits had officially returned to civilization. However all was not well.
The very second the ship’s Captain requested permission to detach the dropship for landing at the spaceport, A pair of MAF Aerospace fighters buzzed the jumpship. Under no uncertain terms was the Thrall Demonstrative to detach her charge until her identity could be verified.
Finally, after an almost 2 hour long shouting match over the radio, Lucy and her people were cleared to detach and proceed to customs for inspection. Once landed, Lucy and Watson had to spend another half a day explaining why they were there and what they wanted. It took another 5 hours of arguing to convince the local MAF garrison commander that no, under no certain terms were they going to surrender Lucy’s battlemechs. Finally after repeated assurances that the dropship wasn’t going to unload anything but passengers, everyone finally cleared customs.
The whole process was enough to drive one to drink. Lucy needed a martini.
________________________________________
Having never been off-world, Lucy found the local customs and mannerisms of Palladix quite alien. However, someone finally pointed them to the nearest tavern. Lucy sighed with relief as she finally got her martini. Watson and Dr. Bunsen sat opposite to her at the table happy to actually be finally sitting down. The conversation was good. In the corner, a holoviewer was tuned to the local news station. No one was paying any attention to it.
Lucy was a bit frustrated for another reason though. She rather liked Watson. For the last month she had been dropping hints in Watson’s direction, however, he seemed oblivious. So she had decided to try a different approach.
After three months in space wearing nothing but jumpsuits, Lucy decided that since they were headed planetside, it might be nice to actually dress like a woman again. So once they finished their drinks and checked into the local inn, Lucy decided to go shopping.
Finished with their drinks, they hailed a hovercab and headed to the inn.
________________________________________
Lucy was in heaven. A real bed! Hot void it doesn’t get any better than this! The hell with shopping today. She was asleep in seconds.
________________________________________
The next day, Lucy went shopping. Already she was dreading the return to ship. It was only a three day stopover. Being in space for so long had taken its toll. She decided to go for a run, and enjoy a very long soak in the tub (with actual hot water) before meeting everyone for dinner. She had no idea when she’d get a chance to do it again.
________________________________________
Watson and Dr. Bunsen were already seated in the dining room, deep in conversation. Hal, Sal, and Pete were seated at the table next to them. Hal had a talent for instruction, and believe it or not, Pete had actually improved in the simulators. Hal, not one to waste an opportunity to impart a lesson, was going over a tactical scenario using her silverware. Pete was paying close attention. Sal would jump in if Pete didn’t understand something.
Captain Furstenberg and his men literally disappeared the minute they cleared customs. No one had seen them since.
Lucy walked into the dining room. Dressed in a flattering little black dress, she felt like a woman again. Her makeup was perfect. The room fell silent. Everyone had to admit the red haired woman in the black dress screamed “classy”. The only thing that spoiled the entrance was when she tripped and fell.
Walking in five inch pumps after three months in space was NOT a good idea.
________________________________________
Lucy had never been this embarrassed in her life. Silently she fumed that she ruined her chance to make an impression with Watson. Strangely, he hadn’t reacted. He just stood up, walked, over and helped her up. Then, offering his arm, he escorted her to the dinner table, pulled out her chair, and seated her. The perfect gentleman. He even complimented her shoes. But there was something missing. Hot Void! He better not be gay!
Lucy had almost forgotten about her fall halfway through dinner. Then, appearing from nowhere, was Captain Furstenberg.
“Sorry Major, time to go.”
________________________________________
Word of the disaster on Rock Ridge had finally reached the edge of the Periphery. However, because Palladix was on the other side of colonized space, the news took about a month to make it this far. To their credit, the people of Palladix really didn’t react to it other than with simple curiosity. However, the local police had set up checkpoints all over town and the local militia had stepped up their patrols. There was also the tiny little fact that someone had robbed the bank, a jewelry store, and had stolen a 30 ton Valkyrie.
________________________________________
Lucy didn’t understand why Watson was hustling her out of the inn. Furstenberg’s men had all ready grabbed what little luggage everyone had brought with them, and had stuffed it into the back of a hovercab. Lucy could only stand there in her stocking feet, her pumps in on hand, her handbag in another, with a look of bewilderment on her face.
What in the hell is going on?!? She thought to herself.
Watson stuffed her into a second hovercab. “Furstenberg’s men thought it would be fun to rob the bank” he said without preamble. “But that’s not the reason were leaving.”
The door slammed and the cabbie floored it. They were off for the spaceport.
Lucy sighed. “Well, at least we don’t have to pay them” she muttered to herself.
________________________________________
The cab was racing through the streets. Watson tried to explain. “The man who caused the Rock Ridge incident is the package referred to in the Omega directive, Staxx”
Lucy just blinked. Hot void! One man did THAT?
“I was hoping we’d have more time. Unfortunately, that’s the one thing we don’t have now. It will still take us another month to get to where we’re going.”
“Going?”
“Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner Staxx. We thought you read the script.”
“Script? You mean my lamp stand?”
“Your lamp stand?”
“Yeah, it was thick enough to put my reading light on. I just attached some velcro to it”
Watson sighed. He should have briefed her sooner. At least she had her men prepared for this.
________________________________________
The Leopard cleared customs and raced for the Thrall Demonstrative. However, the dropship’s captain thought his computer was on the fritz as all of a sudden, the ship was now ten tons overweight. It took all his skill to keep the ancient dropship from failing to reach escape velocity.
________________________________________
At the spaceport, a very confused and very underpaid security guard was wondering who double parked a 20 ton Stinger next to his boss's hovercar.
Can you actually write a ticket for this?
Edited by Utopian (02/06/10 12:21 PM)
|
Utopian
02/06/10 12:10 PM
214.13.16.115
|
CHAPTER 9: BEVERAGES OF MASS DESTRUCTION
________________________________________
The 1990’s on earth were considered by most people as a transitional period in popular culture. The stigma of the 1980’s was still fresh in people’s minds, and it was generally agreed that the 80’s were simply a bad idea. So people struggled to re-invent themselves.
Enter a small company from Wisconsin. As the club scene grew, this small bottling company introduced their product to trendy establishments all over the United States. Coincidently, this also happened at the same time as the rise of metro sexuality. Zima became the drink of choice, and some lucky bastard got filthy rich.
Within the next decade, both the metro sexual revolution and the rise of Zima reached epic proportions. However, the rest of the world had begun to realize that Zima actually tasted bad, and women were actually getting sick of their men acting like homosexuals. It just so happened that homosexuals of the world happened to agree with women. Turns out they didn’t like their identity hijacked. Thus metro sexuality disappeared and people stopped drinking Zima. Problem was, no one told that bottling company in Wisconsin.
Within two years, stockpiles of Zima had reached biblical proportions. No one seemed to know what to do with the stuff. And the man responsible for its creation was on a permanent vacation. He simply wouldn’t answer his phone. They finally found him Bernie’s house, a victim of a voodoo woman named Claire. He was actually quite animated.
________________________________________
Fast forward seven hundred years. The people of earth had survived the Third World War, the rise and fall of the Terran Hegemony, and had finally found peace and purpose under the steady rule of the Star League.
2735. Phil was a bulldozer driver working on the new bridge connecting California to Arizona. In a freak accident, Phil and his bulldozer plunged into a previously unknown cavern that the surveyors missed. To make matters worse, the rest of his crew was on the other end of the span, and Phil’s last bottle of beer broke when the bulldozer crashed into the floor of the cavern.
Dazed, Phil tried to climb out, but couldn’t. Then he began to notice that this wasn’t a cave, but a previously lost warehouse. To kill some time he started to explore. The boxes on the shelves were leaking some sticky substance. The shelves and floor looked corroded. He soon passed out.
Three hours later Phil’s co-workers came looking for him. Spotting the hole in the ground, they correctly guessed Phil’s bulldozer had fallen into a cave. They sent for help and entered the darkness to see if Phil was ok. They never made it out alive. Unconfirmed reports said their corpses looked "Fabulous".
Local officials now knew they had something deadly on their hands. Another 37 men died in the cave, no matter what precautions were taken. Strangely, women didn’t seem to be affected. Finally the bodies were recovered. The medical examiner determined their cause of death as “overexposure to metro sexuality”. Star League leadership scrambled to bury the evidence and the story. It was forgotten within a week. Thirty years later, the Star League collapsed.
________________________________________
September, 3058. Mervin Hoi was a new employee with a small company called CerebroCorp. The company itself was relatively new, having gone into business to try to exploit the rapidly changing advances in recovered medical technology. That particular day, Mervin’s boss had assigned him to inventory an old abandoned warehouse in Jersey, in order to see if there was anything of value before the building was demolished.
Mervin loved his job and did his absolute best at all times. However he was a bit clumsy. Tripping over his own shoelaces, he tumbled head first into a wall. Dazed and unsure of himself, he reached out to steady himself as he stood up. By chance, his hand happened to land on a hidden pressure plate, and suddenly an entire section of the wall rolled back revealing a hidden room. A sickly sweet and sticky mist crept from the room. Mervin passed out from the fumes.
Hours later, Mervin awoke. He was still alone, yet he felt fabulous! There happened to an old broken mirror nearby, so he decided to check for the lump he was sure to have on his forehead. Instead, he saw a monster so hideous that it shattered his fragile psyche. Sobbing, he curled up in a corner, desperately trying to figure out how he was going to tell his mother, Agnes. But within moments, his psychosis was complete. He stopped crying. He had a plan.
A month later a mysterious man in an oversized black helmet and cape took control of CerebroCorp. Then, employees had begun to randomly feel fabulous, then would abruptly disappear. No one could explain it. A week later, CerebroCorp announced the formation of its new beverage division, and released Cerebrocide! The Refreshment with an 89% Fatality Rate™. Sales were strong. People were feeling randomly fabulous.
Then, they disappeared.
Two weeks later, a supposedly new Clan appeared in the Inner Sphere. Dressed in white and black full body armor with yellow highlights, they called themselves Clan Beer Swilling Killer Snow Penguin. They said they were from Pittsburgh. Dressed in all black, wearing an oversized helmet and cape, their leader was calling himself Mavader. France surrendered. The first round of lunacy had begun.
________________________________________
Kinnison Quimbley had just inherited his family’s beer distributorship. Based on Capella, the company had traditionally strong sales. Quimbley had a strong connection to the beverage industry as well. He could trace his roots all the way back to the late 1990’s on earth, where he had an ancestor so far removed that had started a bottling company in Wisconsin. Unfortunately, that company’s name has been lost to antiquity. Except to Quimbley. He had been searching in vain for any and all records of that company, its product, and the fate of his so-far-removed ancestor.
It also just so happened that Quimbley’s bottling company was hemorrhaging money faster than you could say “Copyright violation”.
Quimbley was desperate to save his business.
Enter Mavader. His half crazed, but fabulous troops had just raided Capella. It turns out CerebroCorp was having problems breaking out of their tiny market, which was mostly comprised of college kids throwing frat parties. Mavader happened to glace up at a billboard and realized Quimbley’s company might be able to expand his marketing base better than he could.
Quimbley was summoned at bottle-point. Mavader and Quimbley quickly realized they needed each other. During the ensuing negotiations, Quimbley learned the horrible truth about his ancestor, Mavader revealed that he had weaponized his ancestor’s product, Zima, and that together they could control the galaxy.
Needless to say, the rest would be history. Unfortunately, a database error took care of that pesky little issue.
Once again, weaponized Zima, the most insidious beverage known to man, was lost to mankind.
But Quimbley knew. He backed everything up on a thumb drive and hid it safely away from the admins. That was 20 years ago.
Edited by Utopian (02/06/10 07:35 PM)
|
Cray
02/06/10 03:33 PM
68.205.198.74
|
Heh. Good stuff.
Mike Miller, Materials Engineer
Disclaimer: Anything stated in this post is unofficial and non-canon unless directly quoted from a published book. Random internet musings of a BattleTech writer are not canon.
|
Utopian
02/06/10 04:13 PM
125.213.207.66
|
Thanks Cray. Was wonderin when I was going to get some feedback. Taking a one day break in order to re-focus (and mail my crap back to the the states-I'm in Afghanistan, I go home for good next week).
Please, comments are not only needed, but wanted! I'm literally making this up as I go. I still need a title for this nonsense. You guys are more than welcome to suggest any.
|
Utopian
02/08/10 09:45 AM
214.27.58.2
|
CHAPTER 10: HOW TO DODGE AN INSURANCE ADJUSTER
________________________________________
As the reports detailing the catastrophe on Rock Ridge were beaming out over COMSTAR’s HPG network, Voight and Chet were desperately trying to figure out how to get off world without anyone seeing Peel.
At this point, the fleet’s Communications Officer finally got around to calling the Planetary Militia to tell them help was coming. Never mind that an entire battalion of battlemechs had just been mauled and a 3600 ton dropship shot down. Voight was going to have to fire that guy. Maybe Chet would want the job.
Probably not.
Still Voight and Chet had a problem. How to get Peel off the planet before the reporters sniffed him out? And how do we get him out of this topless bar first?
After repeated begging, pleading, and pulling, Peel still wouldn’t budge from his front row seat. Finally, Chet had an idea. 20 minutes later they were dragging Peel out of the place. It ended up costing Voight 1000 credits to get the dancer to go away and Chet paid another 500 credits to the bartender to slip a mickey into Peel’s beer.
They piled into the back of a militia transport and headed off to the spaceport in a desperate gamble to escape unnoticed.
It was too little too late. The press had arrived.
Chet was rapidly burning karma, money, and political favors in a desperate attempt to keep the reporters away from Peel. Chet had jumped out of the transport in an attempt to distract the press. For the first time in his life, he hated being in charge. Being the planetary governor, the press was swarming him. In a desperate move, he spied Captain Carl Von Stuben. Finally a Militia Officer! There may be hope yet! Pointing out the heroic actions of the militia during the crisis, Chet shifted focus away from him to the Captain. It looked like they bought it. Chet saw Voight dragging Peel out of the back of the transport.
A lone reporter, slow on the uptake, was trying to press his way into the mass of arms and microphones for a sound bite, but couldn’t. Frustrated, he happened to look behind him. Wait a minute! Why’s the Governor leaving? Who’s that with him? Wait a minute……isn’t that PEEL?
The high pitched shriek from his throat caught everyone’s attention, including Chet and Voight.
They hesitated.
Oh Void. We’re screwed. Chet didn’t have to say it. Everyone knew it.
It took a second for the rest of the reporters to understand what was happening. Then, it was just like a giant light bulb turned on. Everyone knew. There was a mad dash. Chet and Voight made a break for it, dragging Peel with them.
They barely made it. But like all rumors, news of Peel’s presence had all ready hit the entire planet (3 seconds, a new record). The now shattered Planetary Militia responded with an efficiency that had never been seen in the history of the sector. The shuttle was under fire within seconds of liftoff. The remaining battlemechs of the 5th Penguin Guards withered then broke under a staggering amount of lasers and missiles fired at them.
It was a rout.
Not bad for a bunch of weekend warriors.
The shuttle struggled to escape the planet’s gravity, but even with the damage it took on the ground it somehow managed to make it. They had gotten away. But the cat was out of the bag. The entire galaxy would be on the alert now that Peel was reported on the loose.
Voight had a headache the size of Wisconsin.
Edited by Utopian (02/08/10 11:36 AM)
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Karagin
02/08/10 09:55 AM
80.149.102.52
|
I agree with Cray.
Karagin
Given time and plenty of paper, a philosopher can prove anything.
|
Utopian
02/08/10 02:02 PM
214.27.58.2
|
CHAPTER 11: ALL HAIL THE POWER TOOLS!
________________________________________
The very second the Thrall Demonstrative burst from hyperspace, it was under fire. Fortunately, the person doing the shooting needed glasses. However what came over the radio made everyone do a double take.
“Die Pond Scum! May…..”
Let’s just say that it was verbose, profane, and VERY offensive.
Once everyone calmed down and the planetary defenders had figured out that Lucy and her crew were definitely NOT Peel and company, the planetary defenders actually became nice. Terribly sorry, thought you were someone else. Would you like some tacos? We can send some up.
Politely refusing, the ship’s captain simply asked permission to recharge for the next jump. Ground control was more than happy to help.
________________________________________
The Next 3 jumps were repeats. It seemed every planet in the sector was ready to come unglued. And after repeated inquiries, no one had any idea where Peel disappeared too. Lucy and her crew did receive plenty of condolences though. You’re going after HIM? Where’s the funeral so we can send flowers?
Then, they got lucky.
________________________________________
Once again the Thrall Demonstrative emerged from hyperspace. This time no one was shooting at them. That was odd. The reason why became apparent why the ship’s sensors detected an unknown class warship of the planet’s pirate jump point. It looked suspiciously like a beer keg.
________________________________________
Lucy and her crew scrambled. Fortunately, the electro-magnetic pulse signature of a Scout class Jumpship was so small, that it was often missed. So, they had time. A brief scan of all radio frequencies revealed that heavy fighting was taking place on the planet’s surface. It took Watson about 30 seconds to determine that this was the best place to gather a lead. Once he heard an unscrambled transmission describing the attackers that said "penguin in a green triangle, holding a hockey stick", it was on. Yep, this was the place.
The Leopard detached and made a high speed burn for the planet. Lucy was thrilled. It would be her first combat drop. Hopefully, Hines wouldn’t screw it up.
He actually did just fine, much to everyone’s surprise.
________________________________________
For the uninitiated, there are two kinds of combat drops. High and low altitude. A high altitude drop consists of a dropship firing it’s breaking engines and dropping its battlemechs from the edge of the planet’s ionosphere. From there, battlemechs, wrapped in a “cocoon” of thermal reflective material, free-fall until a certain altitude, then detachable breaking rockets fire and a parachute deploys, delivering each battlemech to the ground safely. A low altitude drop is just that. Some skilled units can go as low as ten feet to jump, but it depends of the skill of the dropship pilot.
It's actually wicked cool with a 100 ton Atlas.
In this case, Lucy’s unit was delivered in a low altitude drop right outside a ruined city. The opposing forces, each thinking the incoming Leopard belonged to the other side, did their best to contest the landing. It wasn’t enough. Lucy’s 4 battlemechs, and Captain Furstenberg’s 4 battlesuits made it safely to the landing zone. With a quick salute, Furstenberg and his men disappeared into the rubble.
It annoyed Lucy that Furstenberg kept taking off like that, but he had repeatedly insisted over the last four months that there was “opportunity in chaos”. Lucy just sighed and wondered who was going to get robbed next.
But there were more pressing issues. Lucy keyed her radio. “Hines, up the middle. Hal, take my left. Sal, cover us. Let’s go.”
They moved out.
________________________________________
It’s hard to navigate through the ruined city without jump capability. This wasn’t a problem except in Lucy's case. Her Thug didn’t have that ability. As such, she had to rely on everyone else to “see the picture”. Lucy’s lance moved slowly through the maze of rubble, deftly avoiding any of the local militia units. They weren’t important at the moment, and repeated calls to them went unanswered. From the looks of it though, the defending militia was taking a pounding.
Private Hines, piloting is newly stolen Valkyrie, was doing an amazing job scouting ahead. His lessons with Hal and Sal were paying off. He actually had shown such improvement that Furstenberg’s men even started pitching in to help, the result of which was that now Pete was very good at spotting a potential ambush.
Like the one 150 meters in front of him.
Thanks to Captain Furstenberg, the ambush was obvious. But 3 months ago, Pete would have never seen it. He called back to Lucy on the radio.
“Major, ambush up ahead of me. Recommend shifting left a bit.”
“Ok Pete, mark it on the map and continue.”
“Too late Staxx! They made me!”
Lucy was seeing red again. Dammit! He called me that again! I'm gonna kill him....
Without even realizing it, she was now driving her Thug at the edge of its limits and blew right through a concrete wall without even blinking. She also happened to step on a hidden enemy 20 ton Locust.
Poor guy.
________________________________________
Hal hit her jets. Her Enfield sailed over a three story building and landed in the street on the other side of it. At the end of the block was a 50 ton Hunchback which was facing away from her. She promptly put it down for the count with two well placed shots to the back. Sal jumped in behind her, firing several volleys of laser and missile fire in Pete’s direction two blocks over as cover for him.
Pete had taken minor damage, but was moving effectively and laying down a withering barrage of laser and missile fire as well.
Then enemy units began to fall back, having not expected the Valkyrie they thought they had in the bag to have friends.
Lucy charged through another building and burst through its far wall right in front of a 65 ton Crusader. Its pilot was good. At point blank range, its volley of powerful short range missiles and lasers cut deep into the armor of Lucy’s Thug. And then it was over. The Crusader’s head went flying from its shoulders on a trail of flame. Lucy sat there dumbfounded. He ejected? I haven’t even shot at him yet! But there, standing and waving on the Crusader’s left shoulder was Captain Furstenberg. In one hand, he held a mass of wires, in the other, a power screwdriver. 20 seconds later there were the rest of his men, escorting their newfound captive back to safety.
Works for me! Why knock it?
Keying her radio, she simply said “Ok kids, let’s get out of here.”
________________________________________
An hour later, they were safely back in space. It was time for Watson to do his thing.
Edited by Utopian (02/09/10 08:01 AM)
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Utopian
04/06/10 11:28 AM
138.163.0.43
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CHAPTER 12: SHAKE YOUR MONEY MAKER
________________________________________
Getting captured has long been an issue that has had no written rules. In general, captured mechwarriors would be ransomed back to their governments or units after a battle or some sort of peace agreement. However, those unwritten rules didn’t cover getting kidnapped from your battlemech.
As such, the Crusader pilot had no idea what had happened to him. One minute he had the Thug in his crosshairs, the next, everything went black. Then there was a bright light, and for this unfortunate pilot, it was lights out. To this day, this poor pilot had no clue what happened to him.
________________________________________
Lucy peered into the darkness of the conference room, and wondered where Watson received his interrogation training from. So far, the Crusader pilot hadn’t said a word. Not even the standard name, rank, and serial number that most all pilots were trained to respond with. Lucy wasn’t the only one who found this odd. Finally, after four hours trying to get this guy to even say “boo”, Watson decided to take a break.
Watson closed the conference room door behind him. “I can’t get him to respond to anything. Anyone have any ideas?”
Lucy was rubbing her temples. She didn’t have the training for this sort of thing. However, Hal and Sal were both wearing the same evil grin. “Major, Sal and I have an idea. Mind if we try?”
Lucy and Watson both agreed to let the sisters take a crack at this guy. After a few calls over the dropship’s intercom, Captain Furstenburg and two of his men arrived with a cloth sack, a strobe light, some duct tape, and a garden gnome. Sal killed the lights. Everyone piled into the darkened room. Twenty minutes later, the Crusader pilot wouldn’t stop talking. Lucy decided never to cross Hal and Sal. Those two are seriously demented. The Crusader pilot was wailing about the “underpants gnomes”.
So that's why Pete was now wetting the bed every night!
________________________________________
Finally, Lucy and her crew of misfits had some answers. Watson however wasn’t happy, having verified that the penguins were back on the rampage. He was even more distressed to learn that Mavader had resurfaced. However, Watson now knew what needed to be done. All that was left to do was find what Mavader was looking for before he did. That and get Lucy into a position to stop Peel before the entire galaxy declared war on itself.
Watson feared that would be like stopping a Tiger tank with tennis balls. All he had to do was get Lucy angry. He’d have to talk to Hines about that issue.
Edited by Utopian (04/06/10 11:29 AM)
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Utopian
04/06/10 06:16 PM
138.163.0.43
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CHAPTER 13: WHO’S YOUR DADDY?
________________________________________
Chet was hysterical. After escaping the debacle on Rock Ridge, his world had once again fallen apart. Twice now he had held all the power he desired, and now thanks to Peel, twice he had lost it. There mere mention of Peel’s name caused Chet to break down sobbing. He was near a total mental collapse. Finally, he locked himself into his cabin. A day later two guards in white body armor appeared outside his door. They never moved for the rest of the week.
________________________________________
Voight had had enough of Peel. Once back on board his flagship, the first thing he did was throw him in the brig. Unfortunately, in the process of doing so, Peel had put 17 members of the security detail in sickbay. However, he was still a menace to the brig crew. Finally, in order to keep Peel content, Voight ended up ordering a steady supply of beer and pretzels to be supplied to his cell. And just to be safe, he ordered Jigglevision™ The Inner Sphere’s Premier Adult Holovid Channel, unlocked for Peel’s holovid monitor. Voight and his brig crew finally had some peace and quiet.
Now he had the pressing matter of replacing his top General. Turns out the Rock Ridge disaster was ultimately his fault. When Voight had called in the deployment order, his Commanding General was actually indisposed with a bottle of wine and in the company of his Aide in the broom closet. The General was unapologetic. The aide was embarrassed. But then, no one blamed the General either. His aide was the envy of the entire fleet.
Voight hoped Quimbley wouldn’t find out.
Yeah, right.
________________________________________
Tuesday morning. Voight had awakened, showered, dressed, and was heading to the bridge. Suddenly, the jump klaxon was blaring. Before he could take another two steps, his entire world turned inside out as the ship tore a hole through space and reemerged 30 light years away.
Completely discombobulated, he stumbled onto the bridge. “Who the hell ordered a jump?” he shouted at no one. Something was different about the bridge. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
The Officer of the Deck simply pointed Voight to his ready room.
Grumbling that he was surrounded by morons, Voight entered his ready room. The doors opened with a sigh that sounded almost obscene. Normally he rather enjoyed that sound and thought the designers and engineers had outdone themselves designing a door that sounded like it took great pleasure in opening and closing for someone. But not today. It bordered on obnoxious.
Voight stopped cold. The lights were out. Something definitely wasn’t right. He clapped his hands and the lights came on. In his seat was Chet. A smile that bordered on evil was on his face.
He looked fabulous.
________________________________________
“Chet, what the hell are you doing in my office?” Voight shouted. “And why does it smell like mango in here?”
Chet leaned forward with a menacing glare. “Your superiors are very upset with the way you’ve handled affairs so far” he growled. “As such, I’ve been appointed as the Supreme Commander for the rest of the operation.” He motioned to the large 30 pound script on Voight’s desk. “Had you bothered to actually read the script and properly manage the operation, Rock Ridge would have been properly assimilated into the Cerebrocorp Beverage Empire. Instead, now we have to go back and conquer it. Rock Ridge is vital to the success of the ultimate plan.”
“And the mango?”
“Did you know you have an excellent spa on board?”
Voight thought about that one for a minute. “Actually, no I didn’t. Just don’t tell Peel.” It was a thinly veiled jab at Chet to get a rise out of him. It didn’t. Oh void. What happened to him?
“Your security precautions for Peel are actually ingenious, Voight. The only reason you haven’t been executed is because you actually do a good job administratively. However as of now, your mission orders from Kinnison Quimbley have been superseded. Mavader now controls this operation.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“Well for starters, since you’ve ruined me again thanks to Peel, you’re now his keeper.”
Oh void! Not THAT!
“And you can start by joining him in his cell”
Before he knew what was happening, a pair of white armored gloves grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and was dragging him off to the brig.
At least that mango scent was soothing.
|
Utopian
04/08/10 02:13 PM
138.163.0.42
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CHAPTER 14: DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO
________________________________________
Kinnison Quimbley was late for his tee-time. Instead of being on the green, he was stuck in his office nodding his head up and down trying to figure out what Mavader was on about. So far he didn’t like it.
Mavader’s extraordinarily large helmet took up most of the holovid display. However, Quimbley could still see the top of Mavader’s suit and tie. Hey, I wonder who his tailor is? I love that outfit! It was a distraction he desperately needed. But he did need to pay a little more attention, so he refocused on what Mavader was saying.
“…so for that reason I replaced Voight.”
“What are your plans for him then?”
“Voight still has potential. However, I plan on keeping him out of the picture until we reach our ultimate goal. Then I will release him for the duties he excels at.”
“And what ultimate goal might that be?”
“You didn’t read the script, did you?”
Quimbley had to admit it was a bit long and a little dry. Kind of like his wife’s meatloaf.
“I’m still working on it. Do you think the protagonist actually has a chance of defeating Peel?”
“There’s no chance. Peel is the ultimate destructive force in the galaxy. Just as long as you keep him drunk.”
“Then answer me this question. Why is the script blank after chapter fourteen?”
“That was an accident. My creative writing staff decided to take a camping trip in the Free World’s League National Forest. They escaped the fire that destroyed it, but were put in a mental institution when they emerged from it’s smoking ruins to find Peel dancing the “Barbie Girl” dance on top of his Hornet. They’ve had writer’s block ever since.”
Quimbley shuddered at that thought. Poor bastards.
“So from now on the script is open ended?”
“It is for now. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get some of my own people to pick it back up again. However all they do all day long is look at themselves in the mirror and talk about the latest hair products. It’s an infuriating side effect of the recruitment process.”
“Why not just hire some women for the script?”
“Are you kidding? No woman in her right mind would write a story about frat parties and fart jokes. That’s like getting women to give up shopping. It simply doesn’t happen”
He had a point there. “How do you think Chet will do as the new head of the operation?”
“He has the qualifications. When he was Primus on Neveron, he actually fought the Harbringers of Chaos to a stand still on several occasions. Now that his transformation is complete, he’s twice as deadly. And with Peel under control, he should be unstoppable.”
“That still doesn’t answer the question of where this is going.”
“That my friend, will be revealed in due time. But for now, Chet has his orders. Rock Ridge will soon be under our control.”
“One last question then.”
“Yes?”
“Who’s your tailor? I love that suit!”
Mavader cut the transmission. Quimbley could only help but wonder what was really happening and how he had lost control. And now that golf was out, what was he going to do with the rest of his day?
He hit his intercom. “Ms. Allison? Order me some tacos please.”
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Utopian
04/12/10 01:31 PM
138.163.0.42
|
CHAPTER 15: TUESDAY BLUES
________________________________________
The Thrall Demonstrative had jumped into the Rock Ridge system on Tuesday. After receiving the proper clearance, Lucy and her crew detached and landed at the local spaceport, with the intention of finding out more about what had happened and with hopes of determining where the attackers had gone. But as usual, Murphy’s Law was in full effect. When Pete had said the word “Peel”, they were all thrown in the brig.
Fortunately, Captain Furstenberg and his men had gone to ground the minute they landed. Once they cleared this up, Lucy was going to give them a pay raise. It’s good to have help on the outside. Or so she thought.
________________________________________
Watson was very irritated. He had been in a weeklong shouting match, trying to clear this fiasco up and get Lucy and her crew out of the clink. The new Militia General was being stubborn. Fortunately, Dr. Bunsen was of help, as the liberal application of alcohol at least was beginning to open some concessions.
And the newly promoted General Carl Von Stuben had to admit these guys made a mean martini.
________________________________________
Carl Von Stuben never imagined he would be in the position he was in now. Hailed as a hero for defending the spaceport, he never imagined the fallout from the disaster would effect him so much. The former Militia General was so out of touch with the situation during the attack, he had been sacked almost immediately. Because the phones had been unplugged and Peel had somehow knocked out the communications grid, he had been literally left in the dark, as the lights were out too. It was Captain Von Stuben who had rallied the troops and counter attacked when the reporters started screeching about Peel.
As such, he was immediately promoted to his new position once the dust had died down. But these negotiations were taking up too much time. He needed to get back to rebuilding the militia, find a new planetary governor, and try figure out who robbed the bank and the amusement park. He was leaning towards letting Lucy and her troops go.
________________________________________
The alert sirens were blaring all over the spaceport and throughout the city. The men and women of the militia were scrambling everywhere in confusion in an attempt to get organized. Lucy wondered where the guards went. Hal and Sal were peering out the small window trying to see what was happening. Pete was pacing. None of them liked the fact that they were away from their battlemechs during an alert. This is a hell of a time to be locked up. Besides, it’s taco day.
Pete wondered when lunch would be served.
________________________________________
General Von Stuben was not a man to hesitate. Within minutes of the alert being sounded, he had his Anti-Aircraft company rolling. And this time, there was no breakdown in communications. He had a clear picture of the situation. But he was worried. The militia was still fragmented and under strength, and his Combat Control Center was reporting at least one, possibly two regimental strength units were dropping on the planet.
He didn’t have a choice. He ordered the units he had back, out of the city and spaceport. He had to protect the civilians first. He had forgotten about his prisoners.
Not that it mattered at this point.
________________________________________
The cell door clicked open. Finally, someone remembered we were here! There stood Captain Furstenberg at the entrance.
“Is this going to become a habit, Major?”
“Not if I can help it. We need to get to the dropship.”
“No problem Major. The crew is getting your mechs ready. I’ve got a jeep outside.”
Lucy wanted to hug the guy. He thinks of everything!
“By the way, what took you so long?”
“Someone left us tacos for lunch”
Go figure.
________________________________________
Lucy had just buttoned up in her Thug when the first enemy dropship, a Union, had touched down unopposed. Fortunately, their Leopard was off to a side landing pad, almost a thousand meters away from the main landing pads. That meant Lucy’s lance had time to make a break for it. She had wanted to lift off and get back to the jumpship at first, however radar showed that the airspace was not clear. Fortunately, the remaining militia aerospace fighters were trying to stop the landing. That was an opening Lucy desperately needed.
“You guys ready?”
Hal, Sal, and Pete reported ready immediately. Captain Furstenberg’s battlesuits had moved out just seconds before to clear the way. Thank god for small favors.
“Pete, take the lead. Let’s beat feet. Head for those wooded hills.”
They moved out.
________________________________________
More dropships were touching down. The first Union had all ready deployed it’s battlemechs into a wide perimeter, and shortly thereafter the others had deployed their units in an unopposed landing. The defending aerospace fighters had been pushed back, and within minutes they had the spaceport secured.
Lucy was driving her lance hard. They were all ready being pursued up the hill by an enemy scout lance. Consisting of a mix of Owens and Dasher ominmechs, Lucy knew they were going to lose this race. She ordered everyone to continue up the hill as she turned to engage.
The enemy Dashers raced ahead of the lone Owens and right into the guns of Lucy’s Thug. Within seconds, Lucy had legged one Dasher, and peppered a second with her hip mounted SRM’s. The third Dasher began to backpedal as supporting LRM’s from the Owens slammed into the Thug. Lucy was content to let the last Dasher go, but to make her point, she put the second Dasher down with a well placed PPC shot to the head. With the pursuit broken, Lucy drove her Thug back up the hill and rejoined her lance.
Now unmolested, Lucy’s troops disappeared into the woods and relative safety.
________________________________________
Across all local frequencies, the attackers declared that Rock Ridge was under their control. Much to the local population’s horror, they tuned in to discover that their former governor was now their conqueror. Their reaction was apathetic. They all got drunk. It was exactly what Chet was hoping for.
Edited by Utopian (04/12/10 03:33 PM)
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Karagin
04/12/10 02:04 PM
80.149.45.102
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Looking forward to more. Good read so far.
Karagin
Given time and plenty of paper, a philosopher can prove anything.
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Utopian
04/12/10 03:26 PM
138.163.0.41
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CHAPTER 16: WASTING AWAY IN MARGARITAVILLE
________________________________________
Chet was pleased with the events so far. Not wanting to make the same mistakes that were made before, he had deployed overwhelming force this time. His former militia had simply melted away under the assault. Within hours, his forces had achieved all their objectives. Casualties had been light.
After addressing the population of Rock Ridge, he boarded his shuttle and headed for the surface. Now that things were secure, he could now execute the second part of his plan. Supply ships headed for the spaceport and patrols were ordered out into the countryside with orders to eliminate any resistance. Any civilians not living in the city were ordered to be relocated there in order for his plan to have maximum effect. Once the population was contained, then he would execute the assimilation phase of the plan. Hopefully it would be complete by next Tuesday. Then, on to the Neveron system.
________________________________________
Xavix had long suffered under the hand of Chet. At one time it was he who was Primus of Neveron’s Word of Blake factions, however he was forcibly removed from his post when it was discovered he had horribly mismanaged WoB’s snack food division. Chet had never let him forget it and had imprisoned him. When Chet had fled to Rock Ridge, Xavix was forcibly relocated as well. Now that Chet was the defacto power on the Planet, he immediately called for Xavix to be brought before him.
Needless to say, Xavix was not enthusiastic. And what was that smell?
________________________________________
Xavix felt fabulous! And even though there was a bad history between him and Chet, he was actually excited to see him again. Gee, I wonder how I can serve the cause?
Chet had that smirk on his face again. The assimilation process had worked well, as most of the population was all ready beginning to succumb to the Zima placed in the water supply. Xavix had actually been his first test subject. It had worked better than he had hoped. Xavix strode into his office. He smelled of mango.
“Xavix, I have a task for you.”
“Sure Chet, how can I serve?”
“As we wrap up operations here, I am placing you in charge of the planet. As the new governor, you will be presented with a contract to supply this planet’s natural spring water to the CerebroCorp Beverage Empire.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“True, however I will not tolerate any improper conduct, like with what had happened to the Primus Cookie marketing plan. You screw this up, and I’ll have you washing Peel’s thongs.”
Xavix shuddered at that thought. Holy Void! That’s severe!
“Ok, I’ll do it, and I promise no shenanigans. Now is there anything I need to be aware of?”
“Yes, the remnants of the militia are still out there as well as another unknown unit. I’m leaving a regiment of the Penguin Guards here on world for your use. Hunt down and eradicate this resistance. Once completed, report to me.”
“Yes sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Xavix spun on his heel and strode out of the room. Chet wondered how this would turn out as he activated his holovid display.
________________________________________
After Chet had departed the planet, Xavix turned his attention to finding the rouge militia units left on the planet. They were proving to be resourceful, and it was causing him to commit more troops than he wanted.
Later that week, the Penguin Guards had finally managed to corner General Von Stuben’s battered forces and were pounding them hard. Two out of the guard’s three battalions were pressing their attack. The militia’s flank was beginning to crumble. Almost all of the militia’s ammunition was gone when out of nowhere help arrived.
________________________________________
The Thug drove right into the thick of the Guard’s flank. In less than a second, a Guard Commando exploded into a huge fireball to its left. A Trebuchet spun around and fell on its back, its entire torso ripped apart and burning. From the tree line, a Valkrie and Dervish were pouring missiles into everything that moved. Then an Orion crumpled to the ground from the combined fire of the Thug and an Enfield.
The attackers, caught completely off guard, broke and ran for the city.
________________________________________
Xavix was enraged at the news. He ordered his third battalion into the fight. The city and spaceport were now wide open.
Edited by Utopian (04/12/10 03:36 PM)
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Utopian
04/12/10 07:44 PM
138.163.0.44
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CHAPTER 17: WHO WAS THAT MASKED MAN?
________________________________________
With the Guards’ battlemechs in headlong retreat from the field, Lucy and her crew were able to make their way down to link up with the battered remnants of the planetary militia. The situation was dire. The militia was down to a shattered mech company and a few scattered tanks. Spare parts were scarce. Ammunition was non-existent. At least there was plenty of salvage.
General Von Stuben was grateful for the relief. If it hadn’t been for that unknown lance, it would have been game over. He walked toward the Thug as its pilot was dismounting. Hey, she looks familiar….
“YOU! I thought I locked you up at the spaceport!”
Lucy just smirked at the accusation. “Yes it’s ME. We thought you could use a hand. But then, we can leave if you want.”
Von Stuben was rapidly backtracking. This woman just saved our collective chestnuts from the fire. Better show some respect here. “You’ll have to excuse me, it’s been a wild week. Thank you for the “nick of time” bit. We do appreciate it.”
“Anytime, General. Can you get your unit out of here? My scouts have the enemy reforming for another push.”
“Strength?”
“Regimental”
“Crap.” Von Stuben was waving to his aide. “We need to move fast.” He was now shouting orders over his shoulder. His men began to scramble.
Lucy was thinking hard. What to do? “General, if you can leave a blocking force across those narrows over there, I can use my unit to distract the enemy and keep the pressure off of you just long enough for you to get your remaining mechs out.”
Von Stuben looked with sadness over what was left of his force. “I’ll have to sacrifice the tanks and immobilized mechs to do it, but yes, I think we can do it. I don’t see any other choice.”
“Then you better move General. Good luck!”
Lucy was all ready running towards her scarred Thug. They had to get moving fast.
________________________________________
The lead scouts were beginning to probe the militia’s last desperate defense. When they discovered that there was no return fire, they began to close. Right into an ambush. In seconds they were pushed back by a heavy volley of laser fire. However, they quickly reformed and pushed back into the narrows in company strength.
Perfect. Lucy and her crew struck. The enemy company however wasn’t surprised. It was a fight. And more enemy mechs were closing. Lucy knew the advantage was lost.
“Ok kids, time to fall back. Head to point Charlie. Hopefully we can get these clowns to follow us.”
They did. In battalion strength.
Nuts.
________________________________________
Lucy’s Thug was now becoming a liability. Being the slowest mech of the four, the entire lance could only fall back at the Thug’s top speed. Damage was starting to become an issue. Fortunately, Lucy was a crack shot. She was single handedly keeping their pursuers back out of PPC range. The enemy had all ready lost 3 mechs trying to press in closer.
Then, their luck changed. It was a bridge. A blessed, wonderful, and cheerful bridge.
That lasted about 3 minutes.
Once Lucy’s Thug had crossed it, they dropped it. The enemy was stuck on the other side. Any mech that attempted to jump the river got shot out of the sky mid-jump.
The bridge wondered what in the world it had done to deserve such treatment. Hopefully someone will come by and rebuild me.
Lucy pulled her battered lance back for their push into the spaceport.
________________________________________
They finally made it to the spaceport. Granted, they were falling apart, but the made it. Pete had performed brilliantly. However, his Valkrie didn’t help much. Long out of ammunition, Pete had been forced to close to laser range on several occasions so Lucy could fall back. Now his poor Valkrie was on the verge of falling apart.
Sal was in bad shape too. Long out of LRM rounds, she had resorted to her lasers and SRM’s to keep the enemy away. Her Dervish literally looked like a walking trash heap. But like the rest of the lance, she stumbled onto the ferro-crete triumphant.
Hal’s Enfield was in the best shape. A modified 6J model, Hal had been jumping all over the place repeatedly inserting herself into the hottest of the action. However, her autocannon was empty and her armor was in tatters. But now, with their dropship in sight, and no defenders to be seen, Hal led the group off and imminent freedom.
Or so she thought.
________________________________________
Watson was monitoring the radio on board the dropship. When the Guards had landed, all traffic had been grounded and locked down. Watson and Dr. Bunsen had become virtual prisoners at the spaceport. But now, almost a week after the attack, Watson was breathing a sigh of relief. The enemy for some reason had left the spaceport, and late last night, Captain Furstenberg and his men had snuck back on board with a huge amount of stolen goods. And a 35 ton Owens.
Watson asked where he got it. Furstenberg simply said “Behind the baking soda”
Watson didn’t want to know. Looking out the window at Lucy’s approaching lance, he suddenly turned white as a sheet. A 40 ton Hermes emerged from a warehouse, turned the corner, and collided with Lucy’s Thug.
The Hermes pilot panicked. So did Lucy. Desperately, the Hermes tried to turn and run but couldn’t. The Thug had inadvertently stepped on the Hermes’ right foot actuator. Lucy couldn’t resist. She punched the Hermes. In the head. It bounced off the ferro-crete and almost came back fully upright when Lucy punched it again.
Watson, Furstenberg and his men were all in hysterics. That hadn’t laughed so hard in months. All Furstenberg could say as he caught his breath was “That’s going on my Christmas card this year.”
Quickly, Lucy and her crew loaded their battlemechs. They left the Valkrie. And then got the hell out of there.
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Utopian
04/13/10 04:36 PM
138.163.0.43
|
CHAPTER 18: SERVER RESET ANYONE?
________________________________________
The assimilation of Rock Ridge was complete. Xavix had performed admirably, setting up the infrastructure needed to supply the ingredients that were so desperately needed for Mavader’s plan. Another world, Eden’s End, had also been assimilated, and now both were sending a steady stream of cargo ships to the Neveron system.
But there was one slight hitch to all of this. The Rock Ridge Militia was still on the run, and Xavix was nursing a broken collar bone thanks to the Thug that had punched him and his Hermes out. He still had no idea where it came from.
And how he was going to report this to Chet? Fortunately, Chet was in transit and unreachable. He just hoped Chet wouldn’t blow a gasket when he got the news. Oh well, Chet can deal with it if that lance turns up again. Besides, they have Peel. What can a single lance do against him?
________________________________________
While all the attention had been focused on Rock Ridge, Mavader himself had set up a small empire on Neveron. With the production facilities up and running, and cargo ships arriving daily, he could now execute the final phase of his plan. The total elimination of Clan Rabid Badger and their pesky product, CRB Beer.
Since WoB foods had gone defunct a dozen years ago, CRB Beer had grown stubbornly and steadily. They also were very rabid in their defense of their product and their small nation. The only way to gain an advantage was to infiltrate their market. And that meant that sales of Cerebrocide! The Refreshment with an 89% Fatality Rate™ had to be brisk.
To that end, Kinnison Quimbley’s inventive and viral marketing plan was put into effect. Quimbley himself had arrived last Tuesday to oversee it.
Finally, this insidious concoction of natural fruit juices, sparkling spring water, and weaponized Zima would be released across Neveron and then to the entire population of the Inner Sphere, as the Neveron system was the only planet in the galaxy that had permanent governments loyal to all the great houses and clans. The plan was perfect.
All that remained was to sneak Peel planetside and unleash the most powerful military force Neveron had ever seen.
The Milwaukee Brewers.
________________________________________
Chet had worried about how he was going to smuggle Peel back onto Neveron. However, Voight had once again proven useful and had come up with an ingenious way to do it. Neveron’s Sword of Light faction had just signed up for Jigglevision! The Inner Sphere’s Premier Adult Holovid Channel™. And since they needed the decoders installed, it was a simple matter of stuffing Peel into a shipping crate and then misrouting it to Mavader’s headquarters. As a reward, Chet returned Voight to Kinnison Quimbley’s staff. He also made him an appointment with the therapist. Voight was near a complete mental breakdown.
Voight returned to work the next day smelling of mango. He looked fabulous.
________________________________________
Mavader’s diminutive frame sat behind his massive oak desk. He was discussing the final details of the plan with Quimbley, Chet, and Voight.
Quimbley still was having trouble concentrating on the discussion. Who the heck is Mavader’s tailor? I want that suit! He caught himself just in time when Mavader asked him about the marketing status.
“My Lord, the marketing plan has been very effective. The DEST and STB factions have been very open with their economic policies. Cerebrocide is now commonly available in their local hyper-marts. Also, our agents in WoB report near total assimilation.”
“And what of the Sword of Light, Harbringers of Chaos, and the Free Worlds League Militia?”
“SoL hasn’t committed to an endorsement as of yet, although negotiations are still going on. As for the FWLM, their economic minister is playing hardball. They insist that all sales go towards replanting the FWLM National Forest.”
“That will put a dent in our profit margin. What about HoC?”
“Eggy threw our sales team out almost immediately. They don’t want anything interfering with their “I Got Raped by HoC, and All I Got Was This Lousy Coffee Cup” marketing line.”
“I’ve heard Eggy was a tough nut to crack. Keep working that angle”
“Yes sir. That will be a challenge though. We have to send another sales team. It seems Eggy thought it was be funny to send the last team off with some exploding cigars. They’re still in the hospital.”
Mavader turned his attention to Chet. “Your military preparations are set?”
Chet had that famous smirk on his face. “Yes sir. It was very easy to bring the remaining regiments of the Penguin Guards to the surface. The Milwaukee Brewers will be the vanguard of the attack, while the guards will act as a reserve. We anticipate rolling up the opposition in less than two weeks.”
“And Peel?”
“He’s been suitably libated with plenty of beer. We had a clandestine unit infiltrate the FWLM National Forest and retrieved his Hornet of Doom. That mission was executed perfectly. All we need now is the order to begin.”
Mavader was very pleased. “Gentlemen, barring any complications, we execute the plan on Tuesday at 0500 local. Soon we will dominate the entire beverage industry and make more money than we can possibly imagine. However, there is only one thing I can think of that may interfere with the operation.”
Everyone had a quizzical look on his face. Mavader had to explain.
“Randy. The rumor persists that he still lurks in the shadows. Only he has the power to shut this operation down.”
Voight spoke up. “I thought Wayward Son had that power as well.”
“We don’t have that information. He’s been on a somewhat permanent vacation for some time now."
Chet raised his hand. "One slight problem sir. I can't seem to find Clan Rabid Badger's territory on the map."
Mavader sighed. Stupid details. "Then I guess you better look harder Chet."
"Are there any other questions?”
There weren’t any. ‘That’s all gentlemen.”
Mavader cut the connection.
The stage was set.
Edited by Utopian (04/13/10 07:12 PM)
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Utopian
04/14/10 12:49 PM
138.163.0.41
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CHAPTER 19: GO FISH
________________________________________
Lucy and her gang of misfits had successfully escaped Rock Ridge and had jumped out of the system before the enemy had reacted. However, why it was so easy was a mystery.
After getting out of a much needed shower, she intended to find out why. In the process, she had given Pete yet another black eye. The shower door closed on the edge of her towel, just as Pete rounded the corner of the passageway. He got a full and glorious view. Everything was black after that.
Entering the jumpship’s small conference room, Lucy was still annoyed with her luck when it came to Pete. Why couldn’t have it been Watson instead? She still would have been embarrassed, but at least Watson was a handsome guy. She could have dealt with that, even if Watson was totally oblivious to her charms.
Watson, Bunsen, and Furstenberg were all ready in the room. As Lucy sat down, Furstenberg couldn’t resist. Lucy was still five shades of red. “Hines again, eh?”
“He got an eye full this time. Stupid door. Better have Hal and Sal give him some more “training””.
That got a chuckle out of everyone.
“So how the hell did we get out of that so easy?”
Watson spoke up. “Dr. Bunsen and I were monitoring the situation. When the majority of the enemy moved out to hunt down you and the militia, we decided to try and help out. Fortunately, Dr. Bunsen is quite the hacker. It was easy to manipulate their communications systems and break their codes.”
That explained it. But Lucy was now frowning. “But where did the rest of the enemy go?”
Furstenberg threw a folder on the table. “That was easy. Right before we got back from “shopping”, we kind of raided the spaceport’s control tower. Turns out Chet is a little anal when it comes to paperwork. He filed his entire flight plan.”
Watson was now grinning. “And it was easy to hack the customs database. They’re heading for the Neveron system.”
Lucy let out a sigh of relief. Thank god for red tape.
________________________________________
Once the Neveron Defense Accords had been signed, there was a huge sigh of relief across the entire planet. What wasn’t common knowledge however was a tiny paragraph in the document that authorized the creation of a special clandestine monitoring unit with the sole mandate of tracking Peel. Every faction secretly contributed funding.
Except the Sword of Light. Those guys rarely committed to anything unless it went through the most massive committee known to man.
Needless to say, people didn't like those guys very much. And they were still debating sanctions on the company that was supposed to deliver the tacos.
________________________________________
The Peel Detection Unit was housed in a single ordinary building in an unclaimed region of Neveron’s wastelands. Consisting of only a single sector, no one paid much attention to it. Most of it looked uninhabited. Which was true. Only two people were stationed there. A guy named Mattbuck and a local admin known as the Shadowmaster. It sounded like a boring job. It was. So to pass the time, Mattbuck created a program called P-Ball which gave them hours of entertainment. But they actually did work as well. The building had a satellite hookup and the most massive and powerful server system on the planet.
The rest of the time, they played poker. So much poker that they had invented 42 new versions of it. They also held the record for longest continuous poker game on the planet, easily beating out the Genyosha’s game of 5 card stud. And of course, they occasionally invited other players to join them
Entire fortunes were won and lost since the PDU’s creation. Poor Markon owed these guys $42,000. They both agreed he would probably welch on the debt.
What people also didn’t know was that both these men were members of a completely unknown organization. It was called the Ministry of Standards, Weights, and Beverages. On the bookshelf in the far corner sat a dusty 30 pound script and an emergency procedure manual, still bound in its plastic. Mattbuck and Shadowmaster had long forgotten about it.
________________________________________
The Leopard class dropship fired its braking engines and flared out for a landing. Once the dust had settled, Lucy and her crew walked into the solitary building. It looked like no one was home.
Watson led the group through a secure door and into what looked to be a massive computer station containing dozens of holovids. “Anyone home?” he shouted.
Mattbuck peered around the corner. “Who are you guys? We’re in the middle of something here.”
Watson walked around the corner. Mattbuck was looking at him. Shadowmaster was staring at his cards trying to figure out if Mattbuck was bluffing him. Then Pete came around the corner.
“Wow! A royal flush!”
Shadowmaster threw his cards down in disgust. Mattbuck sighed. Well, there goes the perfect hand.
Watson had his face in his hand. Lucy could only think of two words. “Epic facepalm”.
________________________________________
Watson explained why they were there. Mattbuck was alarmed. Shadowmaster was packing a bag. If Peel was nearby, he wanted to have as much clean underwear as possible. Mother always said "Make sure you have on clean underwear in case of an emergency".
Sound advice to anyone.
They agreed not to sound the alarm until they had solid proof that Peel was planetside. No sense in starting a panic.
Everyone took a station and began monitoring the local news stations. Tensions began to rise.
Finally, Mattbuck simply said “Poker anyone?”
Edited by Utopian (04/14/10 12:53 PM)
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Utopian
04/14/10 04:15 PM
138.163.0.42
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CHAPTER 20: FULL FRONTAL PANIC
________________________________________
For three days everyone had been staring at the holovids or was taking a break. At the poker table, Furstenberg had proved to be more than a match for either Mattbuck or Shadowmaster. However, he totally cleaned Pete out. The only things Pete had left to his name were his underwear and a black eye. Lucy had to make Furstenberg give Pete back his clothes. No one complained. Pete was a bit on the pasty and pale side.
________________________________________
At about 0450 Tuesday morning, Mattbuck was fighting fatigue. Trying to stay awake, he glanced at the displays again. There was a news report that a previously unheard of and unfactioned nation was conducting war games. Hey that’s an awful lot of battlemechs for that small of a nation. Mattbuck sat straight up in his seat. Wait a minute! That Hornet looks vaguely familiar….
Another display was showing a news conference being held by someone named Kinnison Quimbley. Mattbuck was riveted to the screen. “Hey guys! Take a look at this!” he shouted. Shadowmaster had just walked in with his morning coffee.
“What is it MB?”
“Does that Hornet look familiar?”
Shadowmaster squinted at the display. “Hard to tell. Looks like the standard WoB edition of the Hornet to me. Put it up on the big screen.”
Shadowmaster was now totally focused on the larger display. “Hey your right! Isn’t that……”
Realization dawned. Shadowmaster promptly ran out of the room in a panic. OH VOID! Mattbuck began frantically tearing through the bookshelf looking for the emergency procedures. Frustrated, he simply said “Screw it” and banged out a command on his keyboard, executing a program he had written just in case.
________________________________________
Across every holovid display on the entire planet, the word “PEEL” began flashing in a panicked and very bold set of red letters. There was stunned silence. Then pandemonium erupted.
Except at SoL Headquarters. The message got misrouted and sent to the committee first. Then their entire government collapsed in a record 20 seconds.
Not that they were going to do anything about it anyway.
________________________________________
Lucy and her crew watched the entire planet’s population come unglued with morbid fascination. Thank god we don’t live here.
Their Leopard was prepping for launch. Watson was determining where to deploy.
________________________________________
Eggy reacted immediately to the warning. Having all ready awaked to make breakfast for the kids, she had just made coffee and was about to wake them up at the next news break. Instead, when the word “PEEL” starting flashing on her holovid, she spilled her coffee grabbing for her communicator. The HoC Alliance scrambled to mobilize. Then she called a babysitter.
No rest for the wicked I guess.
________________________________________
A lone Karnov transport flew over the uninhabited yet replanted FWLM National Forest. Slung underneath it was a solitary Hornet. There were no defenses in this area. Actually, there were no defenses anywhere. Since the signing of the treaty, many nations had been disarming. There really wasn’t a need for massive militaries anymore now that Peel was gone.
However, before the disarmament, everyone knew the backdoor to attack the FWLM was through the forest. That was the path the Karnov flew. Once past the forest’s boundary, it dropped the Hornet in an empty field. Then it flew off, back the way it came.
The Hornet promptly turned and fired a laser into the tree line.
Peel had been unleashed.
________________________________________
Across Neveron, all factions that had succumbed to Kinnison Quimbley’s brilliant and diabolical marketing campaign crossed their borders and attacked their neighbors. Many smaller factions surrendered within the first twenty minutes. A notable exception was the Hot Pocket Cult. Screaming about cheese, these deranged lunatics counter attacked and sent several crack Word of Blake regiments reeling. However, they weren’t fools. The HPC knew they were isolated. Their leader, Arkidda, started screaming for help over the radio.
The Genyosha leadership was annoyed. Throwing down their game of 5 card stud, they responded as best they could, but were rapidly being overwhelmed by wave after wave of tanks from the STB faction. They simply didn’t have the manpower or equipment to stem the repeated attacks from all over their borders. They had no choice but to call for help and fall back.
________________________________________
The majority of the elite Milwaukee Brewers rolled into the outlying territories of the HoC Alliance. At first they met no resistance. But the deeper they advanced, the more resistance they encountered. By the end of the day, their advance had almost bogged down. They called for reserves. The fighting lasted the entire night. HoC command reluctantly pulled their troops back. Both sides were exhausted.
________________________________________
Chet was pleased. Once again, he had achieved all his objectives and was even ahead of his time table. Of course HoC forces were having some success, but that had been planned for. It was a huge bonus that SoL had literally collapsed without a fight, which freed up troops to be redeployed in order to open a second front against his hated former rivals in HoC.
And then there was Peel. The remnants of the FWLM army had been shattered and were running for their lives. There was all ready talk of surrender. Chet had to admire Peel’s piloting skills.
Humming to himself, he crossed the floor of his mobile command truck and called Mavader to report the good news.
Edited by Utopian (04/14/10 06:21 PM)
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Utopian
04/14/10 07:41 PM
138.163.0.44
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CHAPTER 21: PEEL REDUX
________________________________________
The second day of the attack ran into some snags, but proceeded very well. There was only one problem. Peel had disappeared. Chet was furious. Now instead of sending out his unengaged units to find Clan Rabid Badger, he had to use them to find Peel if he couldn’t be found. That was going to throw the time table out of whack. Fortunately, he had planned for something like this.
Chet boarded a transport and headed for the FWLM capital. He had a pretty good idea where Peel was.
________________________________________
Markon was regaining consciousness. Long retired from the active list, he was used to the easy life and was thoroughly enjoying his position as a judge for the annual Neveron Bikini contest. In his spare time, he was also editor in chief for a company that published the ever popular “Neveron’s Hottest MechWarrior Babes” calendar. He had been knee deep in photos for this year’s edition when the Peel alert went out.
Jumping into his hovercar, he had raced to his garage and powered up his ancient Orion.
He had literally taken two steps out of the gantry when Peel’s Hornet tore right past him. All he saw was a blur. Then he had blacked out.
After clearing his head, Markon began his habit of double checking all the Orion’s systems. Everything appeared to be checking out. Now that his mech had regained its feet, Markon flipped the radio on. Immediately he wished he hadn’t. Command was in shambles. The man who replaced him had disappeared, and the army was routing. There were also scattered reports of some type of gas that smelled like mango.
Mango? Markon hated mangos.
Markon had no choice. He took command. Now he had to get out of the capital and rally his forces to counter-attack.
By the second day, the FWLM had fallen. Markon could only muster a paltry twenty battlemechs to retake his nation.
As for the FWLM’s populace, they didn’t care. They felt fabulous.
________________________________________
Chet’s transport had arrived over the FWLM capital and began circling. Chet was busy giving orders over the radio while at the same time directing the transport’s pilot to the area over the red light district. Sure enough, there was Peel’s Hornet, double parked outside a topless bar.
Chet sighed, then keyed his radio. From the back of the transport, a platoon of armored jump troops wearing white with black and yellow highlights leapt out, with orders to resupply Peel with beer and get him rolling toward the next target. Some faction called “Birds of Prey” was causing a stink nearby. Chet’s DEST allies were calling for help.
________________________________________
Units from the Birds of Prey had their attackers completely flummoxed. Apples, the leader of that faction, had been deftly parrying every attack that had come their way. But without warning, a lone Hornet had staggered into the battle on the left flank. Covering those sectors were companies from both the Remco Militia and Taurian Rangers. Thinking they had an easy kill, they were stunned to see the lone Hornet stagger and weave through their barrage of fire unscathed.
Enraged, they swarmed to attack. When it was over, the lone Hornet continued on untouched. Then, Apple’s entire line collapsed. There was nothing he could do but retreat. There was no one available to help.
He was stupefied to learn that drunkenness was an excellent piloting attribute.
________________________________________
Resistance was crumbling everywhere. Chet was even shocked to learn that the massive SoL military had decided to finally enter the battle on his side. Freed from that massive bureaucracy, SoL units, stagnant from years of inactivity, crossed the HoC frontier with plenty of enthusiasm. Pressed from all sides, Eggy was forced to order a general withdrawal. The battered remnants of the HoC Alliance began to fall back.
Finally, Chet had his revenge! He tossed his time table in the trash. He was so far ahead of it, that it had become useless.
He called for Peel and his Hornet to be picked up. He would use him to smash through the last of the HoC defenders. It would be Chet’s finest hour.
But for tonight, he’d let the troops rest. They deserved it.
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Utopian
04/15/10 03:38 PM
138.163.0.43
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CHAPTER 22: SURRENDER? NUTS!
________________________________________
On the morning of the third day, the scattered and fatigued defenders finally caught a break. During the night, units from the Genyosha discovered a hole in their lines, and, through what they thought was sheer luck, finally managed to contact most of the surviving factions. Much to Eggy’s relief, the battered Genyosha and HoC Alliance units managed to hook up.
Even Arkidda’s Hot Pocket Cult managed to steal some transports and make it to the new perimeter. Though they were dangerously depleted, they were still screaming about cheese.
Eggy had to bolster the line. As such, she had no choice. She ordered all reserve units, mostly tanks, broken out of storage and deployed them to the line. Most of those warriors were still green.
They dug in as fast as they could.
Finally, right before sunrise, a lone Leopard landed. Lucy and her crew of misfits had arrived. Eggy was grateful for the help, and also a realist. They deployed as a reserve.
The defenders were as ready as they could be.
________________________________________
Chet was being meticulous in his placement of units for the attack. With several regiments from the Sword of Light on his right, he placed his Milwaukee Brewers in the center, and had brought in several regiments from the Word of Blake to attack the left. His reserve, five regiments of the Penguin Guards, had been reassigned and were now scouring the continent for the so far elusive Clan Rabid Badger.
Geez, those guys are sure hard to find!
But then, even if he couldn’t find his target, he would still have his revenge on all his hated and former foes.
________________________________________
Ever since the he had sent the alert out, Mattbuck had been monitoring the situation and doing what he could to help the defenders. Banging away at his keyboard, and with Shadowmaster checking his lines of code, Mattbuck was finally able to break through Chet’s jamming. From there, things had become much simpler.
Referring to his old notebook, Mattbuck played a hunch. With a few more keystrokes, he hit it big. He now had complete access to Chet’s entire command and control system.
Watson stood behind him stunned at the windfall. “How in world did you pull that one off?” he asked.
Mattbuck shrugged. “Chet used to surf a lot of internet porn. He never changed his passwords.”
Watson had a look of pure unadulterated joy on his face. “Hot VOID! We need to get this out immediately!”
“All ready sent. Eggy will know what to do.”
________________________________________
Eggy was thrilled. The data from Mattbuck was scrolling rapidly across the holovids in her mobile command truck. She quickly barked a series of orders to her controllers. Her army began to shift. It was the most incredible stroke of luck she had ever had.
I’ve got ole Chet by the chestnuts now!
________________________________________
Chet was now satisfied with the placement of his troops. It was mid afternoon. Now all he needed to do was join the attack. He left the command center and mounted his brand new 90 ton Cyclops.
At a few minutes before 2, he ordered his troops forward. This was going to be glorious.
________________________________________
Lucy and her lance watched the attack on the center unfold as they waited to be sent forward. Wave after wave of Scorpion and Hunter tanks charged the defensive line, supported by heavier units like the 60 ton Manticore. The enemy was pressing hard, but were repulsed by the green defenders who were dug in deep. Morale was holding. So was the line. But there were losses.
In the next wave, Chet sent forward dozens of Fleas and Hornets, mixed with Locusts and other fast light battlemechs such as the powerful Jenner. The green defenders began to panic and pull out. Eggy committed her light and medium battlemechs to counter the push. The line held.
________________________________________
The Sword of Light smashed into the edge of Eggy’s line. Tired of the sort of waiting they had long endured, they completely ignored their orders to coordinate the time of their attack with the Word of Blake and jumped off early. To make things more confusing, they didn’t even organize their forces for the attack. They just went in as one huge force.
At first, they were successful. Eggy’s line bent, and then almost broke. Then, still screaming about cheese, the half crazed warriors of the Hot Pocket Cult hit the attackers at the perfect spot and at the perfect time. The Sword of Light fell back in confusion. It would take hours for them to reform and attack again. Arkidda’s boys had saved the left flank.
Eggy promised them new microwave ovens on the spot.
________________________________________
On the other flank, the Word of Blake stepped off right on schedule. Experienced HoC survivors, they knew that their success would come from how they used their speed and maneuverability on the battlefield. They also had a very large amount of their version of the Hornet, as they couldn’t sell them due to the ejection seat problem. Fortunately, they were backed by dozens of Orions.
Screened by hundreds of light Scorpion tanks, they hit the Genyosha hard and fast. When it became apparent that the Genyosha was going to hold, the Blakists shifted their faster Hornets in an effort to turn the Genyosha’s exposed flank.
Of all the vehicles commonly used throughout the Inner Sphere, only the 35 ton Saladin could claim to cause mechwarriors to break out in a cold sweat. As a light, fast hovertank, it mounted a massive Scarborough Original class 20 autocannon in its nose. One hit from this monster weapon was enough to shred or destroy most battlemechs.
The Word of Blake command had forgotten that the Genyosha was the only manufacturer on Neveron who made these beasts.
Just when Blakists began to turn the Genyosha’s line, the Saladins hit. Ejection seats from dozens of Hornets shot into the sky as a battalion of Saladins tore through them like tissue paper.
It was a Kodak moment.
The Genyosha had held as well.
________________________________________
Chet was impressed. That fool Eggy was somehow holding him off. No matter. He ordered his units to keep the pressure on as he ordered Peel into the battle.
Now this is going to be interesting.
Edited by Utopian (04/15/10 03:39 PM)
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KitK
04/15/10 04:31 PM
128.233.93.203
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So, just to clarify, Peels gunnery and piloting is:
Stone Sober 8/8
Half-baked 4/5
One sip from oblivion -14/-14 with the most amazing, alcohol induced Phantom Mech Ability ever witnessed in the IS.
The Peel CCG card: When pilot is enhancing a Hornet and is blocked the Hornet takes no damage and deals damage equal to 5 times the blocking mech(s) damage. If Hornet is unblocked, damage the site normally and apply one structure damage to all of the opponents mechs. Attacker taps all logistics, tatctics, and politics cards for two turns.
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Utopian
04/15/10 09:58 PM
70.181.189.132
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Not so much as the Phantom Mech, as it is druken mech skill. you know. Stagger, stagger, crawl, crawl, staggar. It's an excellent way to exectute an evasive pattern
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mattbuck
04/16/10 12:21 PM
95.148.186.221
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Why do I know Chet's password again? O_o
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