BattleTech: Threefold Curse

[DrunkenGrognard]

Spoiler: Author's Notes

So here I am, taking a swing at fiction again for the first time in mumblemumble years. This particular idea I've been kicking around for a while now. I'm using Drakenisis' wonderful BattleTech jumpchain as the starting point, though a bit loosely. It's important to note, my SI's in-character knowledge is based on what I knew before I started writing this, so little details that I learned as I was doing the research to put everything together, well... Poor Caseri. Jump-Chan has to get some fun in someway...

With thanks to SirJalinth for beta'ing this

May You Live In Interesting Times
May You Come To The Attention Of Those In High Places
May You Find That For Which You Search

-Chinese curse

Chapter 1

Consciousness returned slowly.

Now, I'm not 100% coherent right away when I wake up, but I do generally wake up pretty dang fast; able to roll out of bed and start breakfast before I'm capable of speech; a survival skill thanks to a job that gets me up at fuck-you o'clock every day. So struggling to get myself upright was generally a bad sign.

Some of that awake came suddenly when I managed to roll over and fall off the bench seat I was sleeping on, and landed on the floor tits first. This was both uncomfortable and confusing because A) tits are sensitive, and B) I hadn't had any the night before.

Flailing and swearing, I hauled myself upright and looked around to see where the hell I was. Accurate but useless answer: back seat of some kind of car? No, wait, looking at the outside of the thing, I was seeing fan intakes, so this was some kind of hovercraft. A convertible, no less, with a ratty looking rag-top to match the ratty, faded appearance of the rest of it. Beyond the hovercar, I saw a burnt-orange landscape that reminded me vaguely of the badlands around Drumheller, rocky flatlands stretching towards the horizon. The sun was hanging halfway across said horizon, though fucked if I knew if it was dawn or nightfall. Looking the other way, I saw that I was parked next to a butte.

A butte with a hatch in it. And a rolling door about forty feet to the left of that. Hokay. Hidden badlands base.

Before I went exploring that, I quickly went through the rest of the hovercar. There was a convincing stick under the driver's seat (exactly where I kept mine in my car back home) while the trunk held a survival and first aid kit, a set of tools I mostly recognized, a sleeping bag, a duffel full of clothing that looked like it was my new size, and a pistol that looked like it belonged to an extra from Star Wars.

And in the glove box, a letter.

Greetings, Jumper! You've been selected to join an exclusive crew of sentients who are provided with the chance to live out your dreams! Welcome to a place that is strange but familiar to you. You have some advantages to your credit here, but not so many as to remove the challenge.

You were rude, after all. And not who I was aiming for initially. He looked like he'd be such fun too. That said, I am a ROB of my word, and should you survive, I'll make good on things and deposit you back at your home, none the worse for wear, the day after you left.

Good luck. And don't be boring!

Well. I was jumpchaining, and seemed to be on Jump-chan's bad side. That wasn't great. I'd been dropped… well, I wasn't entirely sure yet, though I had some suspicions. Being girlified in the bargain… I'd decide if that was curse or blessing in a few days, when I knew whether or not I was getting visits from the dysphoria fairy. The loss of weight that came with it had it off to a good start at least. For the moment, however, it was time to deal with the damn bunker.

It wasn't locked, at least, and I only needed to wait for my vision to adjust to the dark to know where I was. There weren't all that many places I'd run across a Marauder, after all.

Although on second look, I revised that. This looked like a near-relative to the thing, but more of a frankenstein's monster, with more than a little Catapult or Crab DNA in there as well. It had a decent sized energy weapon perched on the right shoulder, over a torso that was a bit more friend-shaped than a Marauder's, with a Catapult's big canopy and an uneven murderer's grin of gunports across the torso. The legs were chunky and sported jet exhausts. Rather than a Catapult's missile pods, a pair of arms sprouted from the shoulders. They looked a bit less bulky than a Marauder's, ending with a single big gun barrel. A gun that looked suspiciously like the one in the shoulder.

The whole thing stood about nine meters at the shoulder, and fairly dripped with menace even in basic primer grey.

With a grimace, I looked over the rest of the mechbay. There was what looked like a standard shipping container marked EVERGREEN dominating the far wall, a gym locker next to a table, and an obvious changing cubical next to that.

A second letter sat on the table. Welcome to the Lyran Periphery, circa 3018! You have some liquid funds, a custom BattleMech you may well recognize, a shipping container of spare parts, and an opportunity to do something entertaining! You've also got the skills needed to operate the 'Mech properly, and maintain it… so long as the parts last. I am a benevolent ROB, after all.

I turned the sheet over, and saw an honest-to-god TRO Mechsheet, formatted pretty much exactly the way MegaMek did, describing the machine in question.



"Huh," I said, blinking at the unfamiliarity of my voice but pushing that aside for the nonce to move on. Three "Clan ER Light PPCs" more or less justified borrowing the name 'thunder god'. Pretty damn good throw-weight of damage for a medium in this era, with the heat capacity to bracket fight or throw an alpha without completely crippling myself. The scattering of advanced tech was interesting; DHS was a no brainer, and the pulse laser would keep infantry honest, but it was the Light PPCs that were really interesting; mostly because there was no way in hell they should exist yet, and especially not Clan versions. Explaining them would be no fun at all.

And the whole thing was going to draw attention like flies to shit. No matter what I did, there were going to be Questions and people Taking Notice. Lyran space in this era meant that Snord and his merry band of thieves were wandering around picking fights with Marik and hiding lostech from Katrina, and if Wolf wasn't on her payroll yet he would be soon. I could probably assume that WolfNet would learn about my existence approximately thirty seconds after I got spotted, because they were bullshit of the highest order. And on the other hand I'd have to deal with Space AT&T, who'd probably want to dump my corpse in an unmarked grave when they saw what I was driving.

And absolutely would when they realized what I was planning to do. Because there was no way in hell I wouldn't be trying to lay hands on the Helm core and get a copy to NAIS, Tharkad, or both. Exactly how I was going to pull that off was a problem for Future Me to solve. He (she?) could deal with it, they were a smart nerd, and kind of an asshole, and thus deserved it. For now, I'd finish taking stock of things and see just how much 'Mech operation skills Jump-Chan had left me with.

I looked over the rest of the goodies in here before trying to figure anything else out. The shipping container was packed full; two crates full of spare circuit boards and electronic parts; one of lenses; and five hefty crates marked Type VI LPPC © Raven Alliance, which kicked my memory into gear- I'd written up a mech much like this one a couple years ago as a militia-trash-for-our-spheroid-holdings machine. Couldn't remember why the LPPCs instead of just ER Large Lasers, but it was probably me trying to be a Special Snowflake.

Anyway.

The gym locker held a set of boiler room grey techie coveralls (without any high vis striping or tags suggesting flame retardant fabric; safety features, in the future of the 80's? Perish the thought), a banana yellow fanny pack with a wad of C-Bills and a worryingly bright green wallet full of ID cards (announcing me as Caseri Sobral, Lostech Prospector - the first name was a frequent one for me to grab in online games for alt-characters, the last name didn't ring a bell) and a Plug Suit in Rei's colours.

Well, Plug Suit with what looked like coolant piping, so cooling suit. Which was going to be much less of a pain in the ass than a vest-and-skimpies, probably. A bit of awkwardness later and I was clamoring up the scaffolding (this outfit was going to take some getting used to moving in) and finding that top hatch. The cockpit, thank God, wasn't a Clan style efficiency job, but was big enough that I'd be able to stash my stuff and have a touch of room to spare (it helped that the new me was smol; I'd lost about eight inches of height along with the weight). It even had some nice reddy-brown wood paneling around the instrument panels, which was very 80s and I kind of loved it. (The new me was an early-20s, 5'1"ish gal who looked like Gengis Khan's tomboy sister, which suggested I was going to have issues with Inner Sphere authorities; because I was willing to bet cash money a gene test would reveal Amaris DNA, given Jump-Chan's letter)

A bit after that, I was rolling out. Jump-Chan had been as good as her word; I was able to get the thing fired up and moving without any problems. I had my clothes and other small goodies stashed around me, the duffel bucked into the jumpseat. Couldn't do anything about the shipping container of parts just yet, or the hovercar, but I'd marked the bunker in my nav system; I'd be coming back here if at all possible. For now, I was crossing the badlands at a decent lope; trying to make sure my granted mechhandling skills actually worked.

Seemed pretty good so far; running around felt like driving a truck, more or less - I just sort of knew how to control this thing as soon as I got going. I was still taking it easy, because I wasn't an idiot - treating this like my first run in any unfamiliar truck. It seemed to be helping; I hadn't eaten shit yet, even when I gave the jump-jets a brief go. And the guns, for that matter. Hadn't fired a full alpha, but I'd turned several strips of sand into glass with various bursts of cobalt confetti along with slashes of green and crimson light. There did seem to be an option to change those colours, but I wasn't going to sweat that just yet. For now, I was heading east at about fifty klicks, getting a feel for things and scrolling my radio through the FM dials. I was picking up the occasional snatch of something vaguely Country. They were slowly getting more frequent and audible, which I figured was a decent sign that I was getting closer to what passed for civilization on this rock.

I was also getting snatches of something on short-wave bands. Probably something like CB, though I didn't know near enough to see if they were on the old-earth civilian bands. I was probably approaching something closer than a town. Sounded vaguely like oilpatch operations chatter, or a survey crew, from the bits I was catching.

The radio chatter got clearer as I made it to the top of one rise; that gave way to a broad plain. It was still badlands, but I could see what looked like a mountain range to the west; the sun's position making it look black against the tans of the badlands. I turned down the FM radio (I had definitely found country music, and at least in Lyran space, the trend of country songs being more about what brand of truck you drive than actual country stuff was sadly alive and well) and started adjusting the short-wave until I could get a clear channel.

Finally, I got one. "Okay, Mal, we're ready to run the next sample, bring in a shovel full."

"Gotcha Fred. Be right there. Just gotta -rnh- gotta discourage some hares."

"Did you stick a shovel into one of their nests?"

"No comment, Fred."

I shook my head. Hare attacks? I had a mental image of saber-toothed bunnies. Par for the course when it came to BT wildlife, honestly. I pushed the thought aside and keyed the mic. "Check, check, radio check."

"...Reading you lima-charlie, stranger. Who'se this?"

"Cassi Sobral, lostech prospector. I've been poking around the badlands for a while, having a bit of an issue with my nav system. Any chance you can point me towards town?"

There was a long pause, then, "...Might be, stranger. Find anything interesting out there?"

"Might have. Still gotta get my claims filed before I can talk about it."

"Can't blame a man for trying. Landing is about two-fifty kays northwest of here."

"Thanks much, friend. Take care."

I turned north-west and moved on. Two hundred fifty KMs would take me around three hours, so I started loping along. While I ran, I started thumbing through files on the little mini computer I'd found in a glove box in the cockpit. Noteputer? Datapad? Couldn't remember what the specific term for them in BT was. Anyway, I started going through some stuff on filing lostech claims, because I'd have to at least vaguely know what I was doing if I wanted to give my cover story even a slight amount of believability.

Two hours later, and it was clear I was on the right track. The badlands had given way to scrub, and the scrub was starting to give way to farmland. Not terribly dense, thankfully, so I was able to avoid stomping through someone's tilled fields as I continued on. I'd thankfully also found a few more radio stations and currently had some polka creating much more pleasant background noise than the ford-and-wrangler country. I'd just spotted what looked like a farmhouse in the middle distance when my systems threw up an alert: mechs detected. Presumably the surveyors had called town, and the Militia was coming out to see just who the heck was wandering up, which was fair. I slowed to a walking pace and keyed the radio.

"Afternoon, folks. Is this the welcome wagon?"

"Might be. You Sobral? The lostech prospector?"

"That's me. Got dropped off a while ago," I technically didn't lie, "and I've been poking around since. Just coming in for some supplies and such."

"...Right. You got any documentation to back that up?"

"I do, and I can produce it as soon as we meet up. I think I see a proper road ahead, shall I wait for you there?" It wasn't strange for them to be suspicious; hopefully by being cooperative I'd be able to get the benefit of the doubt, here.

"Sounds like a plan, Sobral. See you shortly."

The militia lance came into view as I slowed to a halt at the end of a dirt road, next to a little sign proclaiming it to be the edge of the Callaway Ranch, where Trespassers Would Be Shot. The lance was… honestly pretty good for militia in this era. Whitworth, a pair of Centurions, and a Quickdraw, advancing with good spacing along the road. Zooming in, they looked a little threadbare, with faded paint, but nothing seemed obviously broken. As we crossed into weapons range (me with my weapons and targeting systems turned off, though my heart rate picked up as I recognised theirs were on) they spread out a bit, with the Quickdraw advancing ahead of the others. As he reached medium laser range, the lance halted.

"What the hell are you driving?"

"The family FrankenMech."

A long moment, then, "Come on out, let's see those credentials."

I was already on the ground and starting towards him before I saw his cockpit pop open. The 'Draw's pilot was an older caucasian man, reddish-brown hair over a tanned face. He wore combat boots, board shorts, and a jacket thrown over a cooling vest. I felt more than a little self-conscious of how out-of-place I seemed with my nice shiny cooling suit and pristine, primer'd mech. But I put on my best bland customer-service smile (honed over years of taxi driving and garbage-manning) and politely held out my Jump-chan provided documents.

He took a few minutes to go over it all, alternating between reading and looking between me and my 'Mech, and, to be fair, did his best not to loom over me (given he had a foot of height and probably a hundred pounds on me, that took some effort). Finally, "Well. These look like they're in order. And I can't think of any trouble that's come recently you might have been behind. You'll be making a claim for something, I'm sure."

"And paying the requisite claim fees when I get to the local offices, yes."

"Well. The Duke might have a few questions but… if you're willing to stay out of trouble, I suppose… Welcome to Swartklip."

"Thank you, mister…?" I let the question hang while wondering where in the fuck Swartklip was.

The dark-haired man gave a crooked smile, brown eyes crinkling for a moment. "Hauptman Klaus Doric. Mount up and we'll lead you in, but keep your weapons offline. No offence, but…"

"But you don't know me, and have people to defend. I understand." Hopefully the tablet dealie has some info on this place…

Landing
Swartklip III, Coventry Province, Lyran Commonwealth
March 12, 3018

Two days later, I'd had a polite conversation with the Duke's deputy and her clerks, who had been happy to take my money in exchange for some salvage claims but otherwise had no interest in talking to me; and with the Adept in charge of the local ComStar office. Swartklip was so small-time that this was a "class C" station, not an actual HPG but just a post-office, getting messages and packages every few months from a courier or contracted merchant jumper. He had been significantly more interested in where I'd been and what I'd been up to, and had been polite-but-strained at my bland evasions. It'd be a couple weeks before the next ship was expected to swing through, which would give me time to plan things a bit. Like how to get my shipping container of LosTech secured without it being immediately stolen.

I'd done a little shopping and research, trying to work out something resembling a plan, which was complicated by just how flipping remote this place was. The closest system-name I even recognized was Kwanjong-ni, then Inarcs, but they were both two or three jumps away. Of course, it was a couple decades too early for Defiance to be doing anything on Kwanjong-ni and I couldn't remember how they found the blasted plant there in the first place. Still, problems for later. If I could find a way to build some rep, I might be able to point someone with lots of minions at the problem.

Comparing my cash-on-hand with what I could find on shipping rates, I had enough to do a fair bit of travel as long as I wasn't too impatient. I'd have to do a little more research and figure out who I wanted to link up with and where to do that, but that was also Future Me's problem. For now I had some time to cool my heels while waiting for a jumper to show up and I could find my opportunities then.

Of course, I made the mistake of saying something along those lines to the clerk at the thrift store I'd found to get more than a set of covies for casual wear(yes, I had a Jump-Chan provided duffel of clothes, but the tops were more cutesy than I was comfortable with, and none of the pants had any zogging pockets), and the universe decided to punish me for taunting Murphy; with the civil defense sirens spooling up just after noon that very day. Moments later, the alarm cut out and Hauptman Doric's voice picked up.

"Attention citizens; a pirate JumpShip has been detected at the planetary L1 point. The militia is preparing to deploy to stand in your defense. When we know where they're heading, we'll let you know. For now, get ready to either bunker down or evacuate."

I threw a 20-kroner note on the table of the restaurant I was in and hit the door running. I dialed up Doric on my communicator while I ran for the rental hangar I had Naru-Kami stashed at.

"Ah, Sobral, I'm a little busy right now."

"I heard the alarms. I'm no fan of pirates, and I was wondering if you wanted an extra set of guns against the bastards."

"...Well. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. And you seem a decent enough sort… Get mounted up and head for the south edge of town."

"Not the spaceport?"

"We don't have a dropper, we're going to have to hoof it to wherever they land."

"Right. I'll call you back once I'm mounted up."

And I tried to strangle the little voice telling me this was a stupid idea.

Blackvalley Badlands
Swartklip III, Coventry Province, Lyran Commonwealth
March 12, 3018

By the time I'd formed up with the Militia out of town it was apparently clear that the Pirates weren't heading for Landing. There were all of four other towns on Swartklip worthy of the title; Orsova (a farming town); Unterklipp (a mining town); Tworivers (a barge-based transport hub); and Hohenau (which did a bit of everything). Fortunately, three of the four were the same general direction away from the capital, and it was immediately clear the pirates were heading that general direction too, heading down with a Union and a Mule.

The pirates descended on the town of Tworivers in about Company strength; a mix of 'Mechs and vehicles. What chatter the militia had picked up suggested that most of the civies had made it clear; and the cops with them, which would at least limit the breakage mostly to stuff rather than lives. The pirates were running heavier than the local militia even with me counted in, but hopefully we'd be able to do some divide and conquer rather than try to take them in a fair fight.

The short scout lance - two Stingers and a Locust-M; the Commando that normally rounded out their numbers was having reactor issues and wouldn't start - was ranging out ahead of us, looking to play bait. It was likely to be rough work for them; outnumbered four to one like they were. But the Locust jockey, an older guy named Mackensen, had just given Doric a nod and deployed. They were using all the Stinger's speed; while our main group was following on at a Centurion's more modest top speed.

I was running with Doric and his lance, and trying not to get too nervous about this situation. From the scattered reports, we were outweighed and outnumbered, which was likely to make the coming battle rough if we couldn't separate them a fair bit. But ultimately… pirates were scum, and chipping in against this lot of them was the right thing to do even before thinking about stuff like "building a trustworthy rep" and "not getting my stuff stolen."

Anticipation built like a leaden ball in my stomach as I tracked things on the map. The scouts approaching Tworivers, scattered bits of radio chatter from the scout lance as they engaged, attenuated by distance and the shitty nature of militia comm gear. More snippets as they killed a pirate Technical and started to fall back, angry pirates in pursuit. An exchange between Mackensen and Hauptmann Doric trying to nail down the enemy's force comp - sounded like Cicada, Vulcan, Valkyrie, one or two Hunchbacks, a Firestarter, one or two Trebuchets, a Blackjack, and a Grasshopper that was probably the commander's ride. Also a report of a pair of UrbanMechs that were either unable to keep pace or just staying in Tworivers to keep looting. The pirate vehicles stayed behind, too, which meant we were a lot less outnumbered than we could have been.

The militia pilots tossed a few ideas back and forth, trying to work out how to play this. I mostly just listened, answering a few questions about Naru-Kami's capabilities. I didn't want to talk myself up too hard, I wasn't sure just how much skill I had. Also, I was the odd man out here, in more ways than one. The militia pilots knew each other and knew how to work together; I was the wildcard. Fortunately, that'd go against the pirates, too - they wouldn't know what to expect from me. Though once I started banging away with the LPPCs I'd probably draw all sorts of negative attention. But there was nothing to do about that now, except try and do my best when the fur started to fly.

As the scouts got within a few klicks on the return; the pirates still following strong; Doric made the call - he picked a good-sized butte for us to set up behind and called for the scouts to lead them past it, and we steadied ourselves. It was a good spot, broad and with a few other small rises we could use for maneuver games once we made contact, but for now the militia Lance took up what looked like a practiced formation; with me tacked on at one end of the rough skirmish line, and we settled in for a very long minute of anticipation.

Then the moment was on us. Mackensen's Locust, looking untouched, roared past, kicking up rooster-tails of flying earth. The militia Stingers followed moments later, looking a bit worse for wear but still moving well. Mackensen sent a burst transmission - "They're almost on us, get ready" - and didn't even break stride, looping around towards the back of our formation while the Stingers cut right to go around the other side of us.

The first of the pursuing pirate scouts - the Cicada - rounded the corner next, and we unleashed the rave. Both Centurions and the Whitworth cut loose with their lasers; I gave the poor bastard the PPCs. About half of our assorted lightshows connected, and the entire left side of the 'Mech just came apart; the rest of it slammed to the desert floor and skidded to a stop in its own furrow.

A Vulcan followed the oversized bug around next, trying to cut away from us - clearly he'd seen what we did to his bud, but couldn't stop fast enough to avoid entering line of sight. LPPCs still cycling, this time I cut loose with my medium lasers while the others salvoed LRMs and the Quickdraw threw an alpha. My heat soared; pointedly reminding me that I was in a bracket fighter. The wave of missiles and disco washed over the Vulcan, but it was breaking away in an evasive sort of shimmy that kept it from getting breached in any one location, in exchange for a lot of generalized shredding of armor.

One and a half down; but they still had eight to go. Hauptmann Doric barked an order; and he and we started falling back before the next pirate hove into view. We got moving none too soon, either, as indirect LRMs started to rain down on where we'd been standing. The Vulcan got itself out of line of sight; the two remaining scout mechs started to loop around wide. Our own surviving scouts were doing the same; I saw a flight of LRMs chase the Vulcan out of sight as we fell back.

Me and the Whitworth were covering one side of the butte; the two Centies were covering the other. We got a customer first; a Swayback festooned with assorted missile tubes. My heat was still higher than I liked; I flipped the hat switch to chain fire and started to pump LPPC shots into the fucker as the Whitworth hosed it down with another laser volley. The pirate was moving with a similar shimmy to the one the Vulcan had used, just slower, but it was still enough to keep us from concentrating damage anywhere. He got in fairly close; inside a hundred meters; before replying. The Swayback vanished in a haze of smoke as around twenty SRMs erupted from its shoulder and slammed across the front half of my 'Mech; followed closely by stabbing crimson beams from its medium lasers.

I swore as the 'Mech bucked under me; staying upright, then swore again as the Swayback emerged from its cloud of smoke. I swore some more as I realized I'd scrapperlocked so hard on shooting I'd stopped moving; just standing there like a moron. The Whitworth had been smart enough to back off, but I'd just stood there with a kick me sign around my neck. I flipped the hat switch back over and cut loose with all four lasers as I lurched into reverse. He was trying to get into punching range now rather than dodge, so most of that tore into his center of mass; ripping a couple panels clean away. From the way he staggered, I might have caught a piece of his gyro.

Then an LRM volley pasted itself across the front of the thing, and one of those definitely caught the gyro; dumping the Swayback flat on its face in a drunken sprawl. I kept backing away for a few seconds, trying to get a sense of what else was going on. In the distance, the Vulcan had linked up with the Valkyrie and Firestarter the scouts had reported, the three machines trying to corner what was left of the Militia scouts. My angle wasn't the greatest, but the Valk was slowing down, probably to get a better missile shot on Mackensen's Locust, and it was inside my LPPC range. No fucking around with chain fire this time; I lined up and fired all three at it. As the heat washed over me I saw two bolts catch it in the side; sweeping a leg and dumping the light onto the sand. Then a scattering of LRMs crashed over me and I spun my attention back to the bigger fish.

The two Centurions were duking it out with a second Hunchback, this one still packing its big gun, with the Whitworth laying missiles onto it. Meanwhile, Hauptman Doric's Quickdraw was dueling the pirate boss in his Grasshopper; while a Blackjack and a Trebuchet hung back dropping fire support. The Trenchbucket having just thrown a volley at me, well, it would be downright rude of me to ignore him. My long guns finished cycling before his launchers could, and I slammed out a full volley aiming center mass, then hit my jumpjets to fling myself to the left and lurched into a jog. The heat alarms were blatting anger at me, but that was ok. Between the jump and the LPPC shots landing, the pirate's missiles missed me clean.

I switched back to chain fire and started laying down shots as I circled around. The Blackjack started pumping autocannon fire at me, which started even more alarms blaring as my armor got sandblasted away. The pirate was going for my legs; possibly thinking happy larcenous thoughts; possibly just luck of the draw. Either way, AC/2 fire wasn't something I could ignore but it was less urgent than the damned LRMs. Plus, he was moving more than the Trenchbucket pilot, who'd almost stopped as he tried to keep me under his guns, sensors clearly not liking the LPPC backscatter.

And then my train of thought was interrupted as one of those cobalt bolts snuck past an armor plate and the missile boat tore itself in half from ammo cookoff.

The thought of oh my god I just killed someone threw me off my stride both ways and I stumbled to a near halt. Before I could recover, something caught the left knee, and Naru-Kami went over for a hard crash into the rocks and sand, slamming me against my restraints. Shaking my head to try and clear it, I used my arms to roll to a recovery position on newly-implanted instinct. Slowly picking myself back up, leg locked into position to lurch-and-stump, I took a moment to look things over before something else could go wrong.

The pirate Hunchie was down, along with one of the Centurions. The other one wasn't looking much better; missing the dangerous arm but still making a game try of moving in to help Doric, who was also down an arm and limping. The Firestarter was down, too; with one militia Stinger laid out next to it. I couldn't see the Vulcan, but the only one of the friendly lights I could spot was Mackensen's Locust. Mostly sure I wasn't going to immediately get jumped, I turned my attention back to the Blackjack.

The pirate 'Mech, probably thinking I was done, had turned away to send shots chasing Mackensen. Even worse for him, he'd stopped, trying to lay his guns on the speed machine. I took a few extra seconds to let my freezers flush my heat - they'd been doing a champion job of keeping me fighting fit, but the lingering desert heat plus my lousy fire discipline had pushed me out of the green zone - to settle my aim on him.

Credit to the pirate Mechjock - he realized I was back up in time to avoid giving me a backshot. As he started spinning back towards me I let him have it; three cobalt bolts slamming into his right side. We both lurched back into motion, trading tracers for cobalt confetti. I wasn't moving so well, but the backscatter from my PPC hits was fucking with his sensors enough to make up for it. At the same time, the Blackjack was also slowing, picking its shots with increasing care.

Then, just as my heat was starting to edge into the yellow again - thank you freezers - he ceased fire completely. There was a moment of what felt like heavy consideration, then his targeting sensors cut out and the arms went straight down. Fortunately, the next shot I fired at him missed short, because it took a few seconds for me to realize he was surrendering. I checked fire as he slowed to a halt and cut his engine, taking a moment to get my breathing and scattered thoughts under control.

By some miracle, nobody shot me while I was distracted. The chiming of my comm kicked my brain back into gear. "Sobral; go."

"Kid, can you still fight? That 'Hopper has just about done in the Hauptmann." Mackensen's voice was steady but concerned.

"Right. Shit. Uh, yeah, I should be good to keep going." I turned in place, taking everything in. Most of the 'Mechs on both sides of this mess were down; just me, Mackensen, the Whitworth, and Doric's Quickdraw still up. On the other side of the rap sheet, I could only see two pirates left standing; the Grasshopper battered but standing tall as it brawled with the Quickdraw, and the Vulcan fleeing into the night in the general direction of away.

I took a steadying breath and settled my crosshairs on the 'Hopper. The first bolt slapped it in the arm as it threw everything but its LRMs into the Quickdraw, the laser show causing the lighter heavy to stagger and topple backwards. The second bolt missed wide, streaking just behind the bigger mech as it made a drunken turn towards me. The third caught it in the chest about the same time as Doric lifted one arm and stabbed a laser shot into its leg, causing the big mech to stagger even further.

Heavily battered and overheating like mad, the pirate 'Mech quite possibly didn't even realize the Whitworth and Locust were still there until the two 'Mechs slung LRM volleys into its back. Its thermals spiked even higher as something caught a piece of its engine. Two more LPPC bolts slammed home center mass; the lens of it's centerline Large Laser shattering from secondary effects; then the pirate 'Mech's head cracked open as his ejection seat fired. We'd won.

I celebrated by unbuckling, popping my hatch, and throwing up over the side.


All in all it was a pretty pyrrhic victory, the kind of knock down drag out fight that usually didn't happen in this era. Three of the Militia's pilots were badly injured, two others dead, and all their 'Mechs save Mackensen's Locust were moderately-to-critically damaged. A couple pirates had surrendered, a few more captured; inspiring a spirited debate about frontier justice versus fair trials. I mostly kept out of it, limiting my comments to a few notes about accepting surrenders and fair treatment for the same.

The Militia techs started some frantic repair and salvage operations, to try and get the Quickdraw back into fighting shape and get the Commando at least vaguely working. The pirates ran riot over Tworivers through the night, stealing everything not nailed down and on fire, the Vulcan and now-armless Firestarter, which had deassed the fight at some point while we'd all been distracted with the heavier iron, linking up with their fellows around midnight. Around noon, they boosted back to their jumpship. It had been hot-charging its drives, it seemed, and popped out two days after that. Even if we'd managed to flush the 'Mechs, technicals, and pirate infantry out of Tworivers - which would have been a hell of a trick with a Locust and two battered mediums - we couldn't have done a damn thing to their droppers or jumper.

Mackensen had made a point of sitting me down and getting me talking about the battle once we'd gotten back to the militia base. Gun to my head, I couldn't tell you what all I told him; it all sort of blurs into mush in my memories; shock and guilt and adrenaline crash all coming together. We talked, he not-quite shoved me into a guest room, and I slept for about nine hours.

When I woke up, I tracked down the tough old veteran again, and we talked a bit more, me being grateful for his guiding me through the fight and him being gruff but polite about things. Then I bought breakfast for the both of us, and after that he helped me flag down one of the militia's recovery vehicles to run me out to the mesa to grab my shipping container of parts.

This, I was a tad worried about, because I didn't really have much of a way to stop them from stealing my lostech, beyond whatever gratitude my help in the big fight might have garnered. Fortunately, gratitude counted for enough here. We slapped a padlock on the shipping container, threw it and the hovercar on the back of the flatbed, and rolled back to town. I traded the hovercar for the knee actuator out of the Swayback and use of one of the repair cubicles.

Fortunately, Naru-Kami's knee wasn't some weird non-standard type, nor the mount trashed. Even more fortunately, Jump-Chan had indeed seen fit to toss in some mech tech skill along with the piloting, and with a little help from one of the local techs I was able to adapt the Hunchie actuator to work with a bird-leg in about a week. Another small miracle: I hadn't taken more than superficial damage to the endo leg bones; and the knee was the only actual armor breach I'd taken. Repairing the damaged armor plates was still a work in progress when the next jumpship came in, mostly done by the time they made orbit.

Right. Made orbit. While KF-boom jumpers were the "standard" in this era, lots of 'primitive' jumpers remained, especially out in the Periphery. Their inability to move DropShips around made them militarily useless, but they could make a decent living as commercial carriers. There were even a small handful of them being made each year. Not getting conscripted as military logistics helped their survival immensely.

Whatever its origins, the Vesta was a Burro-class JumpShip; which I was informed was "yet another knockoff of the old Conestogas."

They were happy enough to agree to take my 'Mech and shipping container on as cargo for the next leg of their rounds, and for less than I'd expected to be paying for a berth on a regular jumper. The day after they made orbit, I got my stuff loaded, Naru-Kami palletized for shipping and a nice set of new heavy-duty padlocks securing my shipping container as it went up next to the 'Mech. I had a few more hours before leaving at that point, as Vesta's policy was to load passengers last, to keep us from "helpfully" getting in the way while they moved cargo from DropShuttle to cargo bays, which was probably wise. I took the extra time to take a last shower (I was not looking forward to dealing with variable-gravity showers for the next couple weeks) and as I was signing out from the motel and getting my damage deposit back, Doric met me at the door.

"Hauptman, what brings you here? Not to seem ungrateful, but I have a shuttle to catch."

"I'll be quick; we need a favor. The Blackjack pilot's singing like a canary, and he's told us what system this bunch of pirates is based out of. We can't do anything about that, but Bucklands is only two jumps further on Vesta's route, and the Duke there has a lot more hardware than we do. And the spacelift to take it pirate hunting."

I gave a slow nod. I was still a little conflicted about things, but this seemed pretty straightforward. "Makes sense, but where do I come in?"

"I was hoping you could carry the message. I can't leave, and most of my men are too hurt to travel." A pause. "And you're the one who the Blackjack pilot surrendered to; and the Duke is supposed to be a fan of LosTech prospectors and treasure hunters."

Oh hell. "I'm not sure how much difference that might make; I have literally no connections to the Lyran military other than you guys."

"I was going to send Mechwarrior Michaels along, too;" One of the Centurion jockeys; "And I can cover half your travel fees to head out there."

I took a moment. That was a non-trivial amount of change he was putting up for me to play messenger girl, and with an actual militia guy along I was less likely to just get laughed out of the room. And it would let me establish some bona fides as a good person rather than just a treasure hunter, which would probably come in handy later on.

I sighed. "You have a deal."

 

[DrunkenGrognard]

Link to the Jumpchain: https://i.4pcdn.org/tg/1497717069037.pdf

JumpChain build

-select age(22); select starting year(3018); Select location: Bumfuck nowhere

-Perks: MechWarrior Training; Hotshot Pilot; Nose For Lostech; Trained Technician; Luck of the Irish
-Items: Medium BattleMech; Clan Technology; The Mighty C-Bill
-Companions: (REDACTED)
-Drawbacks: Infamous Heritage

 

[DiscordOxymoron]

Wonder if she's descended from a Clan (betting on Wolverines!) in order to explain why she has the Clan-tech ERLPPCs...

Watched with interest!

 

[Vianca]

50 tons???
So a Nightstar is then out.
Shame it didn't have a Light Fusion engine of Wolf Dragoons design, that uses Clan XL engine materials, as much as possible.

Nightstar

Nightstar

www.sarna.net

Extralight fusion engine

Extralight fusion engine

www.sarna.net

Light fusion engine

Light fusion engine

www.sarna.net

This is always a nice combo, when you think about it.
Camera's from the Chameleon cloak, a Beagle Active Probe and a SLDF ASF helmet that comes standaard with build in VRPP technology.
A Nova CEWS in place of that BAP, would have been a fun one as well.

Chameleon Light Polarization Shield

Chameleon Light Polarization Shield

www.sarna.net

Beagle Active Probe

Beagle Active Probe

www.sarna.net

Virtual Reality Piloting Pod

Virtual Reality Piloting Pod

www.sarna.net

Uniforms of the SLDF

Uniforms of the SLDF

www.sarna.net

Nova Combined Electronic Warfare System

Nova Combined Electronic Warfare System

www.sarna.net

Still don't get why she had to pay for that replacement actuator, though.
I mean, she didn't have to join that fight, at all and she did kill a few of them.
Meaning she has some mech scrap to her name, she should be able to trade for that actuator.
Then thereis that bunker and it's mech gantry(?), which might actually be lostech as well.
I feel like she threw away too much stuff, from the get go.
I almost expect there to be a small craft parked at that place, as well and that that bunker is a loction ROB put in her background as having bought herself.
Probably modified with ASF cockpit equipement, so a single person can fly it.
You lot know better then I, how much a troopbay weights, so perhaps start playing around a bit?

Mark VII Landing Craft

Mark VII Landing Craft

www.sarna.net

K-1

K-1

www.sarna.net

Tigress (Small Craft class)

Tigress (Small Craft class)

www.sarna.net

Dragonstar

Dragonstar

www.sarna.net

Vampire

Vampire

www.sarna.net

But most likely it could be one of these.
Most likely the first one, though, since it would allow the transport of her other stuff, besides her hovercar.

Ares Landing Craft

Ares Landing Craft

www.sarna.net

NL-42

NL-42

www.sarna.net

That would have added in some extra background and pointed out that she was on that planet, for some reason.
Question would then be, what this reason then was, that ROB inserted for this.

Perhaps trying to hunt down those two RWR bases with mothballed mechs in them?
The Rack & The Pain?
The rack I can see perfectly stored mechs, that have parts that are very easy to get and quite a bit in stock as well.
The pain, lost tech, heavy damaged or hated like the Rampage and thus requiring a Zeus rebuild.
A pain in the butt, thus.
It are two locations near Kwangjong-ni and hopefully, quite a while before that pirate nation becomes a reality.
Outside the normal jumpship network as well.

Anyway, good start.
But is the SI a bit desoriëntatie or so?
Not checking everything out or getting your money worth...

 

[DrunkenGrognard]

The SI's knowledge is based on mine from before I started writing this, so Rack and Pain aren't options as I didn't know about them beforehand.

As far as having to pay for an actuator... well, sure, she probably could have tried that but A) the aircar was of limitied utility anyway since it would be another thing to have to pay to haul around and B) not getting her shit stolen marked a lot higher on her priority list. There's also the fact that the local militia kind of got reamed and need parts to rebuild their stuff too, so pushing for more salvage would risk pissing off people who know she's got a bunch of lostech sitting in a shipping container right there and unless the SI was willing to stand there 24/7 and shoot anyone who approaches it, she can't stop them. But if they like her and don't feel like they should take her things, well, then everyone wins.

And sure, that 'Mech isn't an unstopable powerhouse. Jump-Chan would find that boring.

 

[Vianca]

It means money and money can be used anywhere.
She let herself get reamed out of what is hers.
She could have sold most of the scrap that was hers, thus letting her go longer without a job.

She's a Mechwarrior & a Lost-tech Prospector, it's time she starts acting like that.
Neither would let that amount of money, just be stolen from her, without a fight, especially if the reason it's hers, damaged her own stuff.
She also shot of ammo, which needs replacement as well, which also cost money.
If she keeps acting like that, she's out of money, ammo, a working mech and her cooling suit, in a hurry.

Now if she sold the stuff to the militia, under the condition that they can lower the price, by fixing her mech, refilling it's ammo and helping her with getting her stuff to the airport...
She failed basic 101 of doing running her own private company.
Heck, she didn't even check the backstory that ROB gave her, for all we know, ROB gave her the starting job of locating a RWR library vault or so and that place was hers, by buying it.
She might own a shuttle, that's parked on the spaceport, capable of transporting her mech & aircar.
I guess this ROB might right now, be signing in frustration, by failing to do a check of all this, while taking stoke of things.
For all we know, that bunker had a small factory capable of making most of the parts her mech needs, she never really explored it properly.

You write good, that's for sure, I just find myself wondering on the odd choice the SI is making, when she needs to make her money, last, quite a bit.
And with a ROB with which she is on a bad foot with, how high would the change be, he would place something good at the starting location, if only for irony sake?

Edit:
Did your ROB give your SI a Crab CRB-45, by change???
Or a Night Chanter styled variant of one?
If so, let the frankenstein state come from all the repairs to keep it running, with compatible or close enough, parts.
Like being forced to use different armor panels, when after battle, the armor sections where basically scrap.
Shame you couldn't fit in hybrid myomer or so.
Mmm, what would a fusion between a Crab and a Night Chanter be called?
Night Crab or Crab Chanter?
Heck, what about Crab Chanter-45 of theSLDF Night Crab development project???

And are you using a Clan Missile system or a multi-missile version, perhaps?
As for the actuator, DrunkenGrognard, you could always go with a oversized setup, so any MASC, TSM or Hybrid Myomer (which should be a 50/50 mix of the two, that offers a general 75% cooling outside optimal heat ranges).
O and why can't you use normal myomer for the limbs but say the enhanced version for the cooling system?
Is there a reason there or is it simply a logistic one?

Crab

Crab

www.sarna.net

Night Chanter

Night Chanter

www.sarna.net

Advanced Tactical Missile

Advanced Tactical Missile

www.sarna.net

Multi-Missile Launcher

Multi-Missile Launcher

www.sarna.net

Battle Magic

Battle Magic

www.sarna.net

 

[Skyspear]

There was what looked like a standard shipping container marked EVERGREEN dominating the far wall

Click to shrink...

I'm hoping the protagonist gets to block off a canal with this.

 

[DrunkenGrognard]

I'm hoping the protagonist gets to block off a canal with this.

Click to shrink...

That little incident was fairly recent when I first started poking around at this story.

@Vianca the mech's record sheet is posted in the first chapter. Is it ideal? No. Is that deliberate? Yes. To put this as delicately as possible, you seem to be looking for a story that does not star the SI I am writing (who is, well, based heavily upon me and thus behaves in ways close to how I'd like to think I'd behave). I hope you are able to find stories more to your liking elsewhere because I suspect you are not going to enjoy what I'm going for.

 

[Vianca]

snip

Click to shrink...

Heh, I just hope your SI remembers that she needs money.
Both to travel and to live from.
That and not proparly checking everything at the start or going for a mech ride, while she could have used her hovercar and thus not making as many waves.
She throws away money and goes directly for high profile solutions.

Hopefully, your SI becomes world smart before it bites her in the ass.
She should have been able to get her mech repaired for free.
And even her trip, paid in full, without adding in selling that hovercar & bunker.
She's going to want quite a bit of money, so she can buy her own dropship unless she aims for a Ares Landing Craft, that is.

Is she going after the Argo?
That small factory it has, added to the data from the Helm memory core...
Then she only needs a Snowden for the metal refining & casting part.

Money is the worlds game, afteral.
Don't have to go for the troat, but giving away stuff, that you could have use to trade with, in order to get the parts you need...
That way that hovercar could have been living money or so.

Currently, I am wondering how she is supposed to make a living, you know.
If she had a Ares Landing Craft, then she could have made a living with cargo transport to a jumpship & back again.
Prospecting in-between the periodes those jumpships come by.
Maybe even on planet, cargo transport as well.
Would have let her use this primitive jumpship setup, as a way to earn a living, while prospecting on a planet, for a while, before going for the next planet.
Would even let her help in her prospecting, by airial recon flights, especially if it has a Beagle Active Probe mounted for such jobs.
Yes, the ROB background crafting, is a bit shaky(?), I feel.
It should have included some way of making money, travel and prospect, the above is the easiest setup, to pull off.

O and a fun fact, submarines can be detected by satteliets, simply because the submarine is dislocating the water, upwards.
Yes, the water is locally, higher then it should be.
So depending on how the sub-pen of the Kwangjong-ni underwater factory plant is placed, you might be able to find it with this trick.

 

[Jalinth]

Hopefully, your SI becomes world smart before it bites her in the ass.
She should have been able to get her mech repaired for free.
And even her trip, paid in full, without adding in selling that hovercar & bunker.

Click to shrink...

There are some things more valuable then C-Bills. Getting the introduction and good first impression to the Duke wouldn't have happened if the SI went hard core I want mine 100%. Getting in good with the local nobles is worth a good amount of money and can not be purchased with C-Bills.

The SI has enough money to get to the next step and so doesn't feel the need to burn bridges. DG has written a bunch of fics and has played RPGs with me for years. I am 100% certain that resource management is not some mysterious thing they have never heard of before. You are not going to convince them to change their path for a less wise path just because it fits with your particular taste in power fantasy.

Anyway, I'm off to beta read chapter 2. Have fun all!

 

[Vianca]

There are some things more valuable then C-Bills. Getting the introduction and good first impression to the Duke wouldn't have happened if the SI went hard core I want mine 100%. Getting in good with the local nobles is worth a good amount of money and can not be purchased with C-Bills.

The SI has enough money to get to the next step and so doesn't feel the need to burn bridges. DG has written a bunch of fics and has played RPGs with me for years. I am 100% certain that resource management is not some mysterious thing they have never heard of before. You are not going to convince them to change their path for a less wise path just because it fits with your particular taste in power fantasy.

Anyway, I'm off to beta read chapter 2. Have fun all!

Click to shrink...

O that I get, still, why should the SI pay for the repairs of her mech?
Why should she sell her hovercar, in order to pay for said repairs?
Repairs needed because she damaged her mech, helping the militia, when she didn't have too, nor was contracted for this.
She could have used her claim of the kills, for that, as a: "You do this and it's yours. typo deal deal.

As for the militia, not doing that, when gifted the whole sets of kills, is kinda a dick move, that makes it that nobody will want to help you out, in the future, as well.
Bad for the reputation, if it is know, that helping the militia ALWAYS will see you worse off.
Something the militia can't be having, at all.

O well, hopefully the SI learns from this and now knows, the locals will, when offered a finger, grap your whole hand or more.
It's a way to become broke.
Also, consider this, if mechwarriors & prospectors only help as long as they can turn their kills into money & spareparts, with the gift-ers always being spies of some sort, what does this then say about the SI?
Yeah, waving a giant flag, I'm a spy with lost-tech equipement, please kill me right now.
She has to think about herself, first, acting like she is supposed to act, not throwing all kinda red flags, up, to all the parties she doesn't want to wave red warning flags before their faces, like Comstar and so on.

Going after Helm, when she is going for such a high profile way of doing things...
That's asking for trouble, with not enough money, to get out of said trouble.

If she keeps traveling in this way, then I hope she can get herself Ares Landing Craft, modified with ASF control systems, so she can run it on her own.
It really depend on how heavy her container of spareparts, actually is.
And a modernized Drost IIB would actually nicely fit in with this, with it's belly mounted six small craft bays, plus the two in bay one, for a total of eight small craft bays, rated up to 200 tons, each.
Funny thing is, a Small Craft Bay is 200 tons, but so is the Super-Heavy bay as well.

Drost IIA

Drost IIA

www.sarna.net

I did come across this rule, which would make that Ares Landing Craft quite use-able for the SI, in terms of transporting her mech, container filled with spareparts and that hovercar, considering the Ares has a 65 tons cargobay.

Container Cargo Bays weigh 10 tons and take up one space slot/provide 10 tons of carrying capacity per container.

Click to shrink...

Transport Bay

Transport Bay

www.sarna.net

Ares Landing Craft

Ares Landing Craft

www.sarna.net

Which, with the right hovercar, is quite possible.

Category:Support Vehicles

Category:Support Vehicles

www.sarna.net

Technical Readout: Vehicle Annex

Technical Readout: Vehicle Annex

www.sarna.net

Crimson Streak

Crimson Streak

www.sarna.net

CS535 Hover Car

CS535 Hover Car

www.sarna.net

Freedom 900

Freedom 900

www.sarna.net

Bulldog (Truck)

Bulldog (Truck)

www.sarna.net

 

[Chloe Sullivan]

I flipped the hat switch back over and cut loose with all four lasers

Click to shrink...

The stats up top only show 3 lasers.

Link to the Jumpchain:

Click to shrink...

"You must request access to see this google doc"

 

[ExaltedNekoKun]

Wonder if she's descended from a Clan (betting on Wolverines!) in order to explain why she has the Clan-tech ERLPPCs...

Watched with interest!

Click to shrink...

Pretty sure the author answered that already. Protag noticed they looked like a sibling of Genghis Khan, correlated that with Jump-chan being petty and outright assumed any tests lead right to Amaris.

Because advanced ClanTech and LosTech in Snords backyard add in sniffing distance of ComStar wasn't enough trouble waiting for the barest spark to ignite the sawdust factory.

 

[DrunkenGrognard]

The stats up top only show 3 lasers.

Click to shrink...

Three Medium Lasers - two in the left torso, one in the right; and 1 Small Pulse Laser in the CT; thus the description of "uneven murderer's grin"

"You must request access to see this google doc"

Click to shrink...

...Nertz. As far as I know, it's supposed to allow anyone with the link to view it... one moment whilst I fiddle with things

Pretty sure the author answered that already. Protag noticed they looked like a sibling of Genghis Khan, correlated that with Jump-chan being petty and outright assumed any tests lead right to Amaris.

Because advanced ClanTech and LosTech in Snords backyard add in sniffing distance of ComStar wasn't enough trouble waiting for the barest spark to ignite the sawdust factory.

Click to shrink...