Forgothrax
Not Going Gently
- Pronouns
- He/Him
You think it's crippling to have a cheap drive for the civilian market? Come. On.
The Lords of Ruin -- Battletech/Killzone
- Thread starter prometheus110
- Start date
- Crossover
You think it's crippling to have a cheap drive for the civilian market? Come. On.
One of the core reasons for the small unit sizes and garbage economy in batfletech is how shit thr KF drive is for moving cargo. Of freaking course it's crippling.
Forgothrax
Not Going Gently
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The KF drive is shit for moving cargo because it's slow, not at all granular (it takes a week to go 5LY and a week to go 29LY), and you have to hop a week out from your destination. Plus you have to build dropships that can handle continuous burns and atmospheric insertion.
Warp drive is fast, granular, and we can pair it with 100kt droppers that can maximize cargo by cutting back on engines, because it doesn't matter if their safe Thrust is 0.5. They can float in and out of atmo on antigrav, and they're getting dropped close to the planet.
Paying a premium for your warpship to carry some cargo in its own holds is silly when you can build several ships for the cost of that one and make your cargo holds modular.
There is no difference in how your ship operates vs mine, except that yours wastes time going in and out of a gravity well under its own power instead of docking/undocking droppers and being on its merry way 16 hours later.
Last edited:
- Location
- Florida
[X] We Stand Together
I was planning on doing it tonight but I'm gonna do the write up for my idea for the militia/national guard thing tomorrow after work. I need to step away from the thread for tonight because i was pretty close to losing my temper for a number of reasons and what was happening here was simply the most minor.
word of advice screwing up your weight loss diet by undereating for a few days and then on top of that having a bad day at work can make you really ill tempered.
word of advice screwing up your weight loss diet by undereating for a few days and then on top of that having a bad day at work can make you really ill tempered.
If someone wants to clean this up go ahead. I had this all charted out in my head but when it came time to type it up my brain frizzed out.
The Helghan Republic National Guard an all volunteer force intended have 1 in 500 citizens as a member at any given time which roughly comes out at 1 Division of Guardsmen per 15 million citizens on a national level. These divisions will be modeled after those of the Republic's federal military. Each Member world of the republic will have at minimum 1 division of full time Guardsmen and 2 divisions of reservists but will be aloted resources for further divisions in sets of three as their population as strategic value grows.
The national guard will recurit heavily from soliders mustering out of the federal military and from the most heavily populated areas of the republic both to ensure national loyalty but also act as a secondary colonization program and economic stimulus program for the less populated worlds of the republic via the guardsmen's wages and locally sourced supplies for the Guard Divisions. Each guardsmen can expect a monthly wage with the amount depending on rank and their status as a Career or Reservists guardsman; along with benefits including but not limited to a discount on their taxes and have better access to educational resources for the and their immediate families.
When initially raised each division will lack a mech element but their assigned worlds may allocate funding for the acquisition of 108 battlemechs per assigned National guard division and mechs purchased this way can not be seized from the Member world that purchased them. If a member world declines to aquire mechs for a given division said unit can receive federal funding to help that world add an addtional 6 battlions of Tanks and VTOLs to that division.
The Helghan Republic National Guard an all volunteer force intended have 1 in 500 citizens as a member at any given time which roughly comes out at 1 Division of Guardsmen per 15 million citizens on a national level. These divisions will be modeled after those of the Republic's federal military. Each Member world of the republic will have at minimum 1 division of full time Guardsmen and 2 divisions of reservists but will be aloted resources for further divisions in sets of three as their population as strategic value grows.
The national guard will recurit heavily from soliders mustering out of the federal military and from the most heavily populated areas of the republic both to ensure national loyalty but also act as a secondary colonization program and economic stimulus program for the less populated worlds of the republic via the guardsmen's wages and locally sourced supplies for the Guard Divisions. Each guardsmen can expect a monthly wage with the amount depending on rank and their status as a Career or Reservists guardsman; along with benefits including but not limited to a discount on their taxes and have better access to educational resources for the and their immediate families.
When initially raised each division will lack a mech element but their assigned worlds may allocate funding for the acquisition of 108 battlemechs per assigned National guard division and mechs purchased this way can not be seized from the Member world that purchased them. If a member world declines to aquire mechs for a given division said unit can receive federal funding to help that world add an addtional 6 battlions of Tanks and VTOLs to that division.
Genolution
Hello there
- Location
- [DATA EXPUNGED]
[X] We Stand Together
Kanata.EXE
Programmer
- Location
- Indonesia
[X] Continue War Turns
-[X] Compress war turns to 2 6-month blocks
[X] We Stand Together
-[X] Compress war turns to 2 6-month blocks
[X] We Stand Together
- Location
- USA
[X] We Stand Together
OpSihg_Stabr
Crazy (Evil) Genius
[X] Continue War Turns
@Forgothrax
So is it worth working into your plan? Not only will it make our worlds among the best protected in the inner sphere but the National guard set up my stuff will result in be able to replace the federal occupation force on caliaban.
So is it worth working into your plan? Not only will it make our worlds among the best protected in the inner sphere but the National guard set up my stuff will result in be able to replace the federal occupation force on caliaban.
Forgothrax
Not Going Gently
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I think it's worth talking to Prometheus about-- I'm not sure it necessarily needs to go into the plan itself.
I would say the two issues I have are at the top and bottom ends of the scale. At the bottom end (say, Caliban) we would probably need to note that we would be starting at brigade strength and would be substituting formations of regulars to start with. A 1:500 ratio means that Caliban would have a militia totaling 700 people, so basically a company of fulltimers and 2 companies of part-timers at best and that is just too small. At the top end, staffing Helghan with 1 division per 15 million people means our national guard would be twice as big as our entire professional army.
I also hesitate to give too many special privileges to members of the military, but that's me.
The 1 in 500 ratio is inteaded to be the nation wide raito. The minium each world should get is 3 divisions and we can recurit on other member worlds (most likley we get the people from Helghan itself) To make up the difference, hence it acting as a secondary colonization program.
Second Chances -- Part 1
prometheus110
Join Cayman-Global & be part of the 1E-9 percent!
- Location
- La Ballena City Raft
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Hospital Sant Camillus
Crimson, Salonika, Canopus IV
22 March 3041
"Squeeze this," the doctor said as she placed a rod of some rubbery red material in Darya's left hand; her almost-numb fingers closing around it automatically. "And hold it for as long as you can," the woman added.
Despite herself, Darya Sigurdardottir couldn't help but scoff, the older woman shooting the doctor a look of disbelief as she applied the last of the sensors to her forearm.
"I did this back on the Argo," Darya stated, "Doc Conway should have forwarded the results already. My arm's fucked twelve ways from Sunday," she added bitterly.
Some years younger and a good foot shorter than the mercenary commander, the young doctor, Delgado or Salcedo or something, looked up at the woman who sat on her examination bench and set her jaw. "He did," she replied as her dark brown eyes bored into Darya's own, "but humour me."
The commander of an elite MechWarrior company, a veteran of countless battles across the known galaxy, and a hero of the Aurigan Reach, Darya Sigurdardottir blinked first; meekly doing as she was ordered and squeezing the rod as if her life depended on it. Distantly, a traitor part of her mind told her that it did. Seconds passed like molasses as she forced her hand closed around the rod, a bone-deep ache swelling from within the muscles of her arm and a faint tingle prickled across her fingertips as nerve and muscle protested.
Five…
The tingle grew and spread, pins and needles stabbing into the flesh of her palm and fingers in their hundreds and thousands.
Six…
The pins and needles became phantom knives and the dull ache a fiery burn.
Seven…
Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, the blue and white tiles of the Canopian hospital blurring and shifting as she tried and failed to blink them away.
Eight…
The knives became meathooks. The burn an inferno.
Nin-
Darya opened her fist with a sharp hiss of pain, the baton falling from numb fingers to land on the table with a loud thud thanks to Canopus IV's slightly higher than standard gravity.
"Fuck!" Darya barked as she snatched at the traitor limb and began to rub at her wrist.
Letting out a long, slow breath of the kind Raju had taught her all those years ago, Darya fought to push aside the pain of her injured limb; the burning, stabbing tide receding with frustrating slowness.
"Fuck," she repeated softly. "See what I mean?" Darya asked as she glanced up, only to pause as she caught sight of the woman lost in thought, a pencil resting on her lips.
She's cute, a different but still traitorous part of Darya's mind told her with a sing-song cadence, a sudden flush rising to the mercenary's cheeks as she stared at the woman's coppery-brown, oval-shaped face. Despite the bags under her eyes, the oversized lab coat she wore over baggy blue scrubs, and the frayed ebony hair she stuffed into a messy ponytail, Doctor… Something looked good.
Fighting to keep her face neutral, or as neutral as she could manage while blinking away tears of pain, Darya drawled at herself. Yes, because it went so well the first time...
"Miss Sigurdardottir?" Came a sudden question, the doctor's curious tone tearing Darya from her memories. Meeting the woman's gaze, Darya gave a start as she realised that she'd been lost in her own world; the discovery followed by an embarrassed grin.
"Sorry doctor…"
"Laredo," replied Doctor Adelina Laredo, the senior neurologist favouring Darya with a tolerant smile and gesturing with her pencil at the chair beside her desk.
Employed by the best hospital on Canopus, Hospital Sant Camillus in the city of Crimson, Doctor Laredo had come recommended by Ana Maria Centralla herself once word had gotten back to Canopus about Darya's injury. While they'd only spoken once during the Aurigan Civil War, Ana Maria remembered her friends or, as Darya reasoned, recognized an opportunity when she saw it. While hardly as involved in the politics of the Reach as she'd once been, Darya kept in contact with Kamea in the years since her victory and didn't doubt that Centrella suspected it also.
"So…" Darya began once she'd seated herself opposite the doctor; her right hand, her good hand, absently pulling the coin-sized sensors from her left as she held it close to her body. It was an awkward weight and a constant reminder of what she had lost.
"You don't strike me as the type that likes dissembling, so I won't waste your time," the woman began from behind the solid lyrewood construction; the desk's walnut-coloured surface dominated by a pair of monitors held aloft by a spider-limbed machine. "To put it bluntly, The results aren't good."
Spinning a monitor around, Darya was assaulted by a tidal wave of graphs and figures; arcane numbers, wild lines, and incomprehensible text scrawled across the screen as if written by a mad monk or particularly angry monkey. Glancing at Adelina self-consciously, Darya paused as she caught sight of the woman's expression and all at once the now-familiar sensations of frustration and impotence bubbled up within her.
"These are the responses from healthy Radial and Median nerves," Doctor Laredo began as she traced a pair of lines on the screen, chosen at random as near as Darya could tell, with the back of her pencil. "When you want to grab a joystick, click a button, or squeeze a trigger, these two are the ones that control it."
Taking Darya's silence for comprehension, Adelina hit something on her keyboard and the screen blinked; the mess of lines and text and graphs wiped away and replaced by a single line like the pulse of an EKG machine.
"When a healthy nerve fires," the woman continued, "it looks like this: a steady line as it waits to activate, then a sharp spike as the action potential, the nerve impulse, fires, and then finally a refractory period as the nerve repolarizes and returns to a resting state."
The screen blinked again and another wall of mystifying figures assaulted Darya with all the subtlety of a Steiner scout lance.
Gods doc, she thought, baffled, as she gave the woman a sideways glance, what the fuck do I know about this?
Despite peering at Darya with unnerving intensity, Doctor Laredo either didn't notice or didn't care for her discomfort. "In your case, it seems that the injury you sustained on Alphard has severely damaged both your Radial and Median nerves."
"The involuntary twitches," the exacting woman continued as if she spoke to a colleague, "the painful cramps, the loss of sensation, all of that is due to damage to your nervous system. Your records said your mech took a headshot?"
Darya blinked at the sudden change in tack and, caught off-guard, nodded mechanically. In a distant part of her mind, phantom alarms wailed plaintively as memories of heat and smoke sent a bead of sweat down her temple. StarCorps built the Highlander tough, but not even a half-ton of armour could stand against the fury of a PPC.
"Frankly, it's amazing that you survived the hit considering the amps involved," Doctor Laredo continued, "let alone that you're able to walk. You must have been born lucky."
It took all of Darya's willpower not to scoff at her words. Born lucky. Yeah, right.
"Is it…" Darya hesitated. The words stuck in her throat like a bone.
"I'm afraid so," the woman answered the unspoken question with a touch of sympathy, the first twinge of the emotion Darya had seen since she entered the examination room. "Certainly, I think it's unlikely that you'll regain full use of your left arm given the lack of improvement these past few months."
The words hit Darya like a hammer blow. She exhaled long and hard, air hissing out from between clenched teeth like a curse.
Permanent disability. The phrase carried a familiar kind of pain; cold and hard and devastating. A betrayal from within.
Above all else, MechWarriors feared two things. The first fear, dispossession, was familiar to any MechWarrior; the knowledge that their status depended on their machine dominating so many of their conversations that it was impossible to ignore. Having a mech shot out from under you was often seen as the ultimate failure of a MechWarrior and one that rendered a skilled combatant all but useless in an instant.
The second fear, the one no MechWarrior talked about lest they speak it into existence, was permanent disability, and of the two she thought it worse. Complex machines that strode across unforgiving terrain like demigods of war, battlemechs required a brain compatible with a neurohelmet, a good sense of balance, two working legs, and two arms to operate. Migraines, vertigo, repetitive stress injuries, loss of limbs, and more could render a MechWarrior unable to pilot a mech and thus useless.
"So that's it?" Darya asked, colour rising across her cheeks. "A lucky shot and I'm done? I'm…"
She grasped for words. A company-level force could only ever be led from the front.
"Retired?" She finished with a pained grimace.
"As you are?" Laredo asked rhetorically. "Yes."
She'd have to tell the others, Darya thought as the world receded to a point a few centimetres in front of her nose. Then, all of a sudden, she realised that there simply weren't that many people left to tell.
Darius had left with Darya's blessing some years back, the Reach native offered a commission with the Aurigan military to make up for the loss of talented officers during the civil war. Reading between the lines of his infrequent messages, 2nd battalion had become a well-oiled machine under his tutelage and he was sure they'd do the Coalition proud. Even after so long, it felt strange to command the Marauders without him by her side, though Dekker had assumed his duties without complaint or trouble.
Yang and Farah, meanwhile, were still there in the Argo's mechbay and engineering centre, respectively. Farah seemed as attached to the LosTech dropship as a mother to her child while the grizzled MekTek constantly talked about how he was on the verge of retiring but unerringly managed to find some reason to stay. That the pair shot each other soulful looks whenever they thought Darya's attention was elsewhere almost certainly had nothing to do with it thank-you-very-much, even if it had constituted her primary source of entertainment for the last few months. Out of everyone left, Darya was sure they'd take the news the best.
Sumire and the MechWarriors, that's where Darya was sure the trouble would lie. An adrenaline junkie to the core, Sumire would need assurances that the Marauders weren't going away just because Darya needed to retire from frontline combat, and the MechWarriors… well the MechWarriors would need handling of their own just to keep the command transition smooth. Before she'd become commander of the Marauders, Darya hadn't realised just how annoying MechWarriors could be.
Last but certainly not least, there was also the question of just what exactly she'd do once she retired. She couldn't stay in command of the Marauders, that was out of the question from the word go. Leaving aside her inability to pilot a mech, every minute aboard the Argo would be a reminder of what she'd lost; a psychic gut wound that'd hurt until she either left or died. Staying on would also stop Dekker from truly taking command of the company and the unit wasn't large enough for her to take on a command role off the battlefield.
Without warning, there came a sudden change in the atmosphere of the room, and Darya realised with a twitch that the doctor was studying her; the woman's head cocked to the side and an amused expression scrawled across her face.
"Sorry?" Darya asked apologetically, the flustered mercenary huffing in embarrassment. "I was thinking about- Nevermind."
Unexpectedly, Doctor Laredo smiled. It was a brilliant, bright smile that transformed her severe face, and the corners of her eyes crinkled in a way that sent a frisson down Darya's spine.
The woman nodded, clearly amused. "I was giving you good news," she consoled.
The doctor's words hit Darya as hard as the news of her injury had, their incongruity causing her train of thought to crash like a program fed bad data.
"If you'd come to us even just a few years ago," she continued unabated, "there would have been nothing much we could do. Treatments for nerve injuries like yours have always been a bit..." the woman waved her hand in the air and winced, "hit or miss, to say the least, and Cybernetic weren't there yet."
"Yet?" Darya asked dumbly.
Once again the doctor smiled. "Since '36, we've been able to replace limbs with cybernetics that are almost as good as their flesh and blood equivalents."
"They're not perfect," the doctor cautioned as hope thrilled Darya for the first time since Alphard. "Recipients often find that they're noticeably less flexible and dexterous than the limbs they're replacing, but we've had a number of MechWarriors go on to return to the cockpit after completing physical therapy."
Darya leaned forward, the awkward weight of her left arm all but forgotten in her elation. "But it'd work, right doc?"
Doctor Adelina Laredo nodded slowly. "It's very likely," she hedged. "We've replaced numerous limbs since we first developed the technology, and in the vast majority of cases, the recipient returned to a normal or near-normal life."
And all you'd have to do is cut off your arm, came a taunting voice from within the recesses of her mind --the sudden intrusion of reality, a bitter pill to swallow.
Should I? She wondered as she spared her arm a sidelong glance. Can I?
Seeing her expression, Doctor Laredo paused and a queer look crossed her face. To Darya's eye, it seemed a strange mix of one part sympathy and another part… hope?
"There may be," the woman began hesitantly, "another option."
"It's still in the experimental stages so I can understand if it's not something you wish to pursue," she continued with gathering surety, "but part of my role here at St. Camillus has been to help develop less drastic solutions to problems such as yours."
"Recently, the team responsible has begun human trials on a system that they- we believe will allow them to bypass and replace damaged nerves; effectively restoring total control and sensation to your arm. So far, all the recipients of this system have been civilians from across the outer Rim and we've been hunting for people with your… unique set of circumstances. If you were willing, we could use you"
The mercenary commander blinked slowly at the news, all thoughts of cybernetic arms driven from her mind. Total control. The words appealed to her.
"What," she began before stopping to swallow. "What would it take?"
Laredo shrugged, an uncertain gesture for a woman who had previously seemed so self-possessed.
"Surgery across your entire arm, for one thing," the Doctor said. "Then an extended period of observation here on Canopus to ensure that the system has integrated into your nervous system and isn't experiencing any undue consequences from being implanted in a human body. After that, you would have to undertake a month or two of physical therapy and error correction to ensure the system is operating properly, then a secondary period of PT that could be handled aboard your…"
"Dropship," Darya supplied automatically, the woman shooting her a relieved look of thanks in turn.
"Yes, dropship," Laredo confirmed with a nod before she continued. "For a cybernetic limb, it would take something like six weeks post-op to acclimate while the nerve bypass would take…"
She blew up and shook her head. "Four months, give or take."
Darya threw her head back and narrowed her eyes as she thought.
From forced retirement to two potential solutions in as many minutes, it was a lot to consider. The fastest and most technologically-mature option, the cybernetic would allow her to get back in the cockpit of her Highlander as if she never left in the first place, but it would cost her a part of herself. A faulty and traitorous part maybe, but a part of herself nonetheless. The surgery, though, was slow and a risk to boot. Four months away from the Argo, more considering the way mercenary contracts ebbed and flowed across the galaxy, might as well have been an eternity as far as Darya was concerned, and the thought that it might fail made her shiver.
Tossing the issue over, Darya felt something shift as an idea suddenly emerged from the fog of her mind. Slowly, she grinned to herself and let her face relax.
"So doc," she said, a little of the old confidence infecting her tone., "what sort of equipment would you need to calibrate the implant?"
Crimson, Salonika, Canopus IV
22 March 3041
"Squeeze this," the doctor said as she placed a rod of some rubbery red material in Darya's left hand; her almost-numb fingers closing around it automatically. "And hold it for as long as you can," the woman added.
Despite herself, Darya Sigurdardottir couldn't help but scoff, the older woman shooting the doctor a look of disbelief as she applied the last of the sensors to her forearm.
"I did this back on the Argo," Darya stated, "Doc Conway should have forwarded the results already. My arm's fucked twelve ways from Sunday," she added bitterly.
Some years younger and a good foot shorter than the mercenary commander, the young doctor, Delgado or Salcedo or something, looked up at the woman who sat on her examination bench and set her jaw. "He did," she replied as her dark brown eyes bored into Darya's own, "but humour me."
The commander of an elite MechWarrior company, a veteran of countless battles across the known galaxy, and a hero of the Aurigan Reach, Darya Sigurdardottir blinked first; meekly doing as she was ordered and squeezing the rod as if her life depended on it. Distantly, a traitor part of her mind told her that it did. Seconds passed like molasses as she forced her hand closed around the rod, a bone-deep ache swelling from within the muscles of her arm and a faint tingle prickled across her fingertips as nerve and muscle protested.
Five…
The tingle grew and spread, pins and needles stabbing into the flesh of her palm and fingers in their hundreds and thousands.
Six…
The pins and needles became phantom knives and the dull ache a fiery burn.
Seven…
Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, the blue and white tiles of the Canopian hospital blurring and shifting as she tried and failed to blink them away.
Eight…
The knives became meathooks. The burn an inferno.
Nin-
Darya opened her fist with a sharp hiss of pain, the baton falling from numb fingers to land on the table with a loud thud thanks to Canopus IV's slightly higher than standard gravity.
"Fuck!" Darya barked as she snatched at the traitor limb and began to rub at her wrist.
Letting out a long, slow breath of the kind Raju had taught her all those years ago, Darya fought to push aside the pain of her injured limb; the burning, stabbing tide receding with frustrating slowness.
"Fuck," she repeated softly. "See what I mean?" Darya asked as she glanced up, only to pause as she caught sight of the woman lost in thought, a pencil resting on her lips.
She's cute, a different but still traitorous part of Darya's mind told her with a sing-song cadence, a sudden flush rising to the mercenary's cheeks as she stared at the woman's coppery-brown, oval-shaped face. Despite the bags under her eyes, the oversized lab coat she wore over baggy blue scrubs, and the frayed ebony hair she stuffed into a messy ponytail, Doctor… Something looked good.
Fighting to keep her face neutral, or as neutral as she could manage while blinking away tears of pain, Darya drawled at herself. Yes, because it went so well the first time...
"Miss Sigurdardottir?" Came a sudden question, the doctor's curious tone tearing Darya from her memories. Meeting the woman's gaze, Darya gave a start as she realised that she'd been lost in her own world; the discovery followed by an embarrassed grin.
"Sorry doctor…"
"Laredo," replied Doctor Adelina Laredo, the senior neurologist favouring Darya with a tolerant smile and gesturing with her pencil at the chair beside her desk.
Employed by the best hospital on Canopus, Hospital Sant Camillus in the city of Crimson, Doctor Laredo had come recommended by Ana Maria Centralla herself once word had gotten back to Canopus about Darya's injury. While they'd only spoken once during the Aurigan Civil War, Ana Maria remembered her friends or, as Darya reasoned, recognized an opportunity when she saw it. While hardly as involved in the politics of the Reach as she'd once been, Darya kept in contact with Kamea in the years since her victory and didn't doubt that Centrella suspected it also.
"So…" Darya began once she'd seated herself opposite the doctor; her right hand, her good hand, absently pulling the coin-sized sensors from her left as she held it close to her body. It was an awkward weight and a constant reminder of what she had lost.
"You don't strike me as the type that likes dissembling, so I won't waste your time," the woman began from behind the solid lyrewood construction; the desk's walnut-coloured surface dominated by a pair of monitors held aloft by a spider-limbed machine. "To put it bluntly, The results aren't good."
Spinning a monitor around, Darya was assaulted by a tidal wave of graphs and figures; arcane numbers, wild lines, and incomprehensible text scrawled across the screen as if written by a mad monk or particularly angry monkey. Glancing at Adelina self-consciously, Darya paused as she caught sight of the woman's expression and all at once the now-familiar sensations of frustration and impotence bubbled up within her.
"These are the responses from healthy Radial and Median nerves," Doctor Laredo began as she traced a pair of lines on the screen, chosen at random as near as Darya could tell, with the back of her pencil. "When you want to grab a joystick, click a button, or squeeze a trigger, these two are the ones that control it."
Taking Darya's silence for comprehension, Adelina hit something on her keyboard and the screen blinked; the mess of lines and text and graphs wiped away and replaced by a single line like the pulse of an EKG machine.
"When a healthy nerve fires," the woman continued, "it looks like this: a steady line as it waits to activate, then a sharp spike as the action potential, the nerve impulse, fires, and then finally a refractory period as the nerve repolarizes and returns to a resting state."
The screen blinked again and another wall of mystifying figures assaulted Darya with all the subtlety of a Steiner scout lance.
Gods doc, she thought, baffled, as she gave the woman a sideways glance, what the fuck do I know about this?
Despite peering at Darya with unnerving intensity, Doctor Laredo either didn't notice or didn't care for her discomfort. "In your case, it seems that the injury you sustained on Alphard has severely damaged both your Radial and Median nerves."
"The involuntary twitches," the exacting woman continued as if she spoke to a colleague, "the painful cramps, the loss of sensation, all of that is due to damage to your nervous system. Your records said your mech took a headshot?"
Darya blinked at the sudden change in tack and, caught off-guard, nodded mechanically. In a distant part of her mind, phantom alarms wailed plaintively as memories of heat and smoke sent a bead of sweat down her temple. StarCorps built the Highlander tough, but not even a half-ton of armour could stand against the fury of a PPC.
"Frankly, it's amazing that you survived the hit considering the amps involved," Doctor Laredo continued, "let alone that you're able to walk. You must have been born lucky."
It took all of Darya's willpower not to scoff at her words. Born lucky. Yeah, right.
"Is it…" Darya hesitated. The words stuck in her throat like a bone.
"I'm afraid so," the woman answered the unspoken question with a touch of sympathy, the first twinge of the emotion Darya had seen since she entered the examination room. "Certainly, I think it's unlikely that you'll regain full use of your left arm given the lack of improvement these past few months."
The words hit Darya like a hammer blow. She exhaled long and hard, air hissing out from between clenched teeth like a curse.
Permanent disability. The phrase carried a familiar kind of pain; cold and hard and devastating. A betrayal from within.
Above all else, MechWarriors feared two things. The first fear, dispossession, was familiar to any MechWarrior; the knowledge that their status depended on their machine dominating so many of their conversations that it was impossible to ignore. Having a mech shot out from under you was often seen as the ultimate failure of a MechWarrior and one that rendered a skilled combatant all but useless in an instant.
The second fear, the one no MechWarrior talked about lest they speak it into existence, was permanent disability, and of the two she thought it worse. Complex machines that strode across unforgiving terrain like demigods of war, battlemechs required a brain compatible with a neurohelmet, a good sense of balance, two working legs, and two arms to operate. Migraines, vertigo, repetitive stress injuries, loss of limbs, and more could render a MechWarrior unable to pilot a mech and thus useless.
"So that's it?" Darya asked, colour rising across her cheeks. "A lucky shot and I'm done? I'm…"
She grasped for words. A company-level force could only ever be led from the front.
"Retired?" She finished with a pained grimace.
"As you are?" Laredo asked rhetorically. "Yes."
She'd have to tell the others, Darya thought as the world receded to a point a few centimetres in front of her nose. Then, all of a sudden, she realised that there simply weren't that many people left to tell.
Darius had left with Darya's blessing some years back, the Reach native offered a commission with the Aurigan military to make up for the loss of talented officers during the civil war. Reading between the lines of his infrequent messages, 2nd battalion had become a well-oiled machine under his tutelage and he was sure they'd do the Coalition proud. Even after so long, it felt strange to command the Marauders without him by her side, though Dekker had assumed his duties without complaint or trouble.
Yang and Farah, meanwhile, were still there in the Argo's mechbay and engineering centre, respectively. Farah seemed as attached to the LosTech dropship as a mother to her child while the grizzled MekTek constantly talked about how he was on the verge of retiring but unerringly managed to find some reason to stay. That the pair shot each other soulful looks whenever they thought Darya's attention was elsewhere almost certainly had nothing to do with it thank-you-very-much, even if it had constituted her primary source of entertainment for the last few months. Out of everyone left, Darya was sure they'd take the news the best.
Sumire and the MechWarriors, that's where Darya was sure the trouble would lie. An adrenaline junkie to the core, Sumire would need assurances that the Marauders weren't going away just because Darya needed to retire from frontline combat, and the MechWarriors… well the MechWarriors would need handling of their own just to keep the command transition smooth. Before she'd become commander of the Marauders, Darya hadn't realised just how annoying MechWarriors could be.
Last but certainly not least, there was also the question of just what exactly she'd do once she retired. She couldn't stay in command of the Marauders, that was out of the question from the word go. Leaving aside her inability to pilot a mech, every minute aboard the Argo would be a reminder of what she'd lost; a psychic gut wound that'd hurt until she either left or died. Staying on would also stop Dekker from truly taking command of the company and the unit wasn't large enough for her to take on a command role off the battlefield.
Without warning, there came a sudden change in the atmosphere of the room, and Darya realised with a twitch that the doctor was studying her; the woman's head cocked to the side and an amused expression scrawled across her face.
"Sorry?" Darya asked apologetically, the flustered mercenary huffing in embarrassment. "I was thinking about- Nevermind."
Unexpectedly, Doctor Laredo smiled. It was a brilliant, bright smile that transformed her severe face, and the corners of her eyes crinkled in a way that sent a frisson down Darya's spine.
The woman nodded, clearly amused. "I was giving you good news," she consoled.
The doctor's words hit Darya as hard as the news of her injury had, their incongruity causing her train of thought to crash like a program fed bad data.
"If you'd come to us even just a few years ago," she continued unabated, "there would have been nothing much we could do. Treatments for nerve injuries like yours have always been a bit..." the woman waved her hand in the air and winced, "hit or miss, to say the least, and Cybernetic weren't there yet."
"Yet?" Darya asked dumbly.
Once again the doctor smiled. "Since '36, we've been able to replace limbs with cybernetics that are almost as good as their flesh and blood equivalents."
"They're not perfect," the doctor cautioned as hope thrilled Darya for the first time since Alphard. "Recipients often find that they're noticeably less flexible and dexterous than the limbs they're replacing, but we've had a number of MechWarriors go on to return to the cockpit after completing physical therapy."
Darya leaned forward, the awkward weight of her left arm all but forgotten in her elation. "But it'd work, right doc?"
Doctor Adelina Laredo nodded slowly. "It's very likely," she hedged. "We've replaced numerous limbs since we first developed the technology, and in the vast majority of cases, the recipient returned to a normal or near-normal life."
And all you'd have to do is cut off your arm, came a taunting voice from within the recesses of her mind --the sudden intrusion of reality, a bitter pill to swallow.
Should I? She wondered as she spared her arm a sidelong glance. Can I?
Seeing her expression, Doctor Laredo paused and a queer look crossed her face. To Darya's eye, it seemed a strange mix of one part sympathy and another part… hope?
"There may be," the woman began hesitantly, "another option."
"It's still in the experimental stages so I can understand if it's not something you wish to pursue," she continued with gathering surety, "but part of my role here at St. Camillus has been to help develop less drastic solutions to problems such as yours."
"Recently, the team responsible has begun human trials on a system that they- we believe will allow them to bypass and replace damaged nerves; effectively restoring total control and sensation to your arm. So far, all the recipients of this system have been civilians from across the outer Rim and we've been hunting for people with your… unique set of circumstances. If you were willing, we could use you"
The mercenary commander blinked slowly at the news, all thoughts of cybernetic arms driven from her mind. Total control. The words appealed to her.
"What," she began before stopping to swallow. "What would it take?"
Laredo shrugged, an uncertain gesture for a woman who had previously seemed so self-possessed.
"Surgery across your entire arm, for one thing," the Doctor said. "Then an extended period of observation here on Canopus to ensure that the system has integrated into your nervous system and isn't experiencing any undue consequences from being implanted in a human body. After that, you would have to undertake a month or two of physical therapy and error correction to ensure the system is operating properly, then a secondary period of PT that could be handled aboard your…"
"Dropship," Darya supplied automatically, the woman shooting her a relieved look of thanks in turn.
"Yes, dropship," Laredo confirmed with a nod before she continued. "For a cybernetic limb, it would take something like six weeks post-op to acclimate while the nerve bypass would take…"
She blew up and shook her head. "Four months, give or take."
Darya threw her head back and narrowed her eyes as she thought.
From forced retirement to two potential solutions in as many minutes, it was a lot to consider. The fastest and most technologically-mature option, the cybernetic would allow her to get back in the cockpit of her Highlander as if she never left in the first place, but it would cost her a part of herself. A faulty and traitorous part maybe, but a part of herself nonetheless. The surgery, though, was slow and a risk to boot. Four months away from the Argo, more considering the way mercenary contracts ebbed and flowed across the galaxy, might as well have been an eternity as far as Darya was concerned, and the thought that it might fail made her shiver.
Tossing the issue over, Darya felt something shift as an idea suddenly emerged from the fog of her mind. Slowly, she grinned to herself and let her face relax.
"So doc," she said, a little of the old confidence infecting her tone., "what sort of equipment would you need to calibrate the implant?"
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prometheus110
Join Cayman-Global & be part of the 1E-9 percent!
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I was bored and realized that I hadn't mentioned anything about the lives of a number of characters, so I decided to start correcting that. Here's part one of something set after Alphard. Part 2 will come once I've finished writing it.
Considering how much ass the Maurauder's have kicked i would be amazed if they couldn't land a training contract while their CO is going through treatment.
actually we might to hire a few merc units to act as roving Opfors for two or three years to help stiffen up the National Guard units. Learning from veterans always helps and they can easily simulate Pirate raids for wargames.
actually we might to hire a few merc units to act as roving Opfors for two or three years to help stiffen up the National Guard units. Learning from veterans always helps and they can easily simulate Pirate raids for wargames.
Genolution
Hello there
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I think the real help is that we supplied assistance and exchange with Canopian universities that they were able to graduate enough trained doctors to not just maintain Canopian medical infrastructure but to start to innovate.
- Location
- USA
Didn't the Marauders already serve as instructors for the Helghan Republic several years ago? Although that was for the national army rather than regional units.
prometheus110
Join Cayman-Global & be part of the 1E-9 percent!
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Updated the CapCon Section of the ORDI panel to include some of their known techs (I couldn't be bothered for stuff we know they have at the start of the game. Sue me 
), plus a couple items that they technically know how to build but lack the machinery needed.
You may notice the short time between prototype and primitive gauss rifles. This is not a mistake.
forums.sufficientvelocity.com
), plus a couple items that they technically know how to build but lack the machinery needed.You may notice the short time between prototype and primitive gauss rifles. This is not a mistake.
The Lords of Ruin -- Battletech/Killzone Crossover
{tbody=bcolor:#111} {td=200x@}{/td} {th}OUTER RIM DEFENCE INITIATIVE{/th} {td=200x@}{/td} {td=colspan:3} {tr}{th=bcolor:#000}AURIGAN COALITION{/th} Current Research Primitive Helghast Pulse Lasers Advanced Petrusite Theory Known Techs Tech Year Double Heat Sinks 3035...
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Forgothrax
Not Going Gently
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... *eyebrow*
Now isn't that interesting.
Edit: Per Prometheus, we could trade for naval weapons. Fun!
Now isn't that interesting.
Edit: Per Prometheus, we could trade for naval weapons. Fun!
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