The Factory, Solaris City
Solaris VII
Lyran Commonwealth
24 April, 3049
The initial thunder of the crowd died down after the first few minutes. The arena was set up for a free-for-all. Twelve mechs would enter, and only one would be standing at the end. It was a meatgrinder, nothing else, designed to determine who belonged here and who didn't. And she was out to prove that she belonged.
The sounds of weapons fire could be heard in the distance. No doubt some of the contestants had just run headlong into the fight. That was not going to be the way to win this fight. Controlled aggression, with the emphasis on the control part.
Her sensors gave her no blips, but with all the metals, power lines, and god knows what else running through the arena, that was no surprise. There were bound to be a few surprises along the way.
From behind a pile of scrap, a Firestarter darted out into the open, lancing out ruby beams from it's pulse lasers as it ran. The pilot was not a good aim, with only a few of the beams catching armor on the right leg of her machine. She saw a sword and sunburst painted on the right breast of the machine, explaining the poor aim. Instinct kicked in, and she thumbed the trigger for the ultra autocannons housed in Gunnar's torso. The stream of projectiles struck the hapless Firestarter square in the torso, staggering it and slowing it's progress just enough for what she needed.
"Gotcha, Davrat." she spouted. The slowing of momentum on the enemy mech was just what she needed, and she squeezed off a burst from her quad medium lasers. The beams hit their mark, just as she intended, all scouring the light mech's right leg, tearing through the armor and into the structure beneath, melting actuators and myomer and gimping the normally agile mech.
That was all the opening she needed. A double tap of the autocannon trigger spun the ultras up to full speed. The fifty millimeter slugs sprayed out at twice their normal speed, slamming into the Firestarter's torso, eating through it's light armor, and throwing the mech to the ground. The mechwarrior within knew he was bested, and slapped the shutdown button, signaling his capitulation and removing his mech as a target on her screen.
The thrill of victory pulsed through her veins. She had tasted blood, and now she wanted more. A quick check of her HUD showed that three other mechs had already fallen. Only eight competitors remained.
As she rounded a corner, she saw two competitors locked in a fight. An Atlas had lost it's right torso, and was desperately trying to shield it's damaged components as an Orion continued to savage it with lasers. The Orion had taken a beating, but the Atlas was the one that was far worse for wear.
Depressing both triggers, Faith sent green beams at the Orion along with the stream of slugs from the autocannons. They tore armor from the blocky torso of the Orion, sending it slightly off balance, and perfectly into the sights of the Atlas. A wave of short range missiles smashed into the Orion, exploiting the holes Faith's attack had opened, along with the damage from previous exchanges with the Atlas. It was all the ammo stored in the Orion's bins needed to start cooking off, popping and tearing bits of the mech off, spraying wildly into the distance as the mech fell to the ground.
She wasted absolutely no time turning on the wounded Atlas. She fired off an alpha strike, not worrying about the heat. There would be time to cool off later. She glanced at the readout for the ammo bins on her autocannons. They were sitting at about half full, plenty for this match. In the time it took to glance at the ammo readout, her mech was shaken by a blast of SRMs from the wounded Atlas. Her alpha strike had not put the mech down, nor had it taken out it's short range punch. That had to happen, and fast.
She hit the trigger for her lasers, carving into the exposed innards of the Atlas's torso. She hit engine shielding, and she could see the flash as the engine started to bloom. Simultaneously, the wave of heat from her own weapons fire hit her, nearly knocking the air from her lungs, seeing black spots in her vision as she tried to focus herself on the HUD.
The engine safeties on the Atlas kicked in, shutting the engine down and sending the mech into a slumber. Another opponent down for the count. A quick glance at the readout showed 3 opponents left standing. No, make that two, as one light winked out, coinciding with a roar from the crowd, signaling that another opponent had succumb to the rigors of combat. Now she only had to find the remaining two combatants and finish them off.
Her mech lurched forward and alarms screamed in her ears, signaling that one of the two other mechs left standing had found her instead. Unfortunately, it seemed that they had found her with two nickel ferrous Gauss rifle slugs to her rear torso. Luckily, the internal structure had held, and the engine was wholly intact. She had to spin quickly though to avoid another blast to the rear of her mech.
The enemy mech was a JagerMech, and if it was equipped with dual gauss rifles, it was probably packing an XL engine. This pilot was going for cheese and quick kills. That could be his undoing. She was about to line up a shot on the Jager, when the other mech still on the field appeared, a smoldering Enforcer. It wouldn't take more than one salvo to finish off this hapless opponent. Then, an idea came into her head. One that would play perfectly to the crowd, and here on Solaris, the crowd was everything.
Pushing the throttle hard forward, she sent her mech into an all-out charge towards the enemy JagerMech. The Jager pilot tried to line up a shot, and as he did, autocannon rounds began to pepper the back of her mech. She smiled. It was unfolding just the way she wanted. At that moment, she dropped her mech to the ground, prone.
Above her, the Jager fired, and the Enforcer continued it's barrage. The gauss rifles from the JagerMech demolished the upper torso of the Enforcer, and as it died, it's autocannon rounds tore chunks of armor away from the already weakened side torso of the Jager. It was just the opening Faith needed. She yanked upwards on the joystick, pivoting her K2's arms upwards. She could only hit with 2 medium lasers, but she was betting it was enough. She jabbed the trigger, sending dual green beams into the heart of the Jager. It was just what she needed. The energy pulses cored into the bulky engine of the Jager, sending it spasming backwards.
"And look at that, mech fans, what a move. In one fell swoop, Faith McCarron got her opponents to do the dirty work for her, and cleaned up like a pro. That is how you qualify for a spot in the real show as a wild card, my friends."
Friday, February 27, 2015
Thursday, February 26, 2015
The Factory, Solaris City
Solaris VII
Lyran Commonwealth
24 April, 3049
"Tonight we have a treat for you, Mech fans. This is Duncan Fisher, here to bring you the call from downtown Solaris City, as the spring season opens on the gaming circuit. You know all the players from last year, but there's an incoming crop of young hotshots looking to make a name for thmeselves, and they'll be battling it out with one another tonight."
"The Factory has been chosen for this year's open qualifier, and boy, is this one shaping up to be a good one. There are several newcomers looking for stables, and the relative peace around the Inner Sphere has seen an influx of combat veterans looking to make a name, not to mention some money, for themselves."
Though she tried to tune it out, the array of monitors pumping in the broadcast feed made it nearly impossible for Faith to ignore the commentary introduction for the upcoming match. This was a totally new animal for her. She had seen some combat with the CCAF, but here on Solaris, this was where a person could make a name for themselves. Or die trying.
She had found it relatively easy to get her name on the list for the open qualifier. The Game World always needed a fresh influx of new talent, or new bodies for the meatgrinder. She had a mech and a feisty personality, that was practically red meat to promoters here on Solaris. As far as they were concerned, if she made it, great. If not, no big loss, there were probably a hundred more waiting behind her for a shot.
But tonight was her shot, and no one else's. She had looked over the fight card for tonight, and she knew she could take any of the pilots out there. She had watched film on them all, and they were scrubs. They were meat for the meat grinder. But not her. She was going to come out on top. She had to, it was her way.
She thought back to her childhood, all those lacrosse matches, the crowd, the thrill of victory. Of course, the consequences of defeat were order of magnitude more harsh here, but the adrenaline rush was the same. Win at all costs. There was no other option.
Speaking of adrenaline, she felt the pre-rush running through her veins, mixed with the chill of the room. Wearing only her mesh shorts and tank top, with knee length boots and her cooling vest still open and inactive, the almost antiseptic chill of the locker room reached almost into a person's soul.
She looked down at the small line of white powder on the steel table. The Game World was no-holds-barred. There was no such thing as drug testing or doping scandals here on Solaris. If it got you though the match, power to you. This particular mix she had gotten from a Warrior House veteran on a campaign some years ago. A mixture of psycho-stimulants and opiates, it had gotten her though many a battlefield, giving her an edge and a focus that could mean the difference between life and death. Of course, all the medical evidence said it would take years off her life, turn her into a junkie, or make her heart explode one day, but the odds were that a Gauss rifle round was going to do that long before this cocktail would.
With one quick motion, she inhaled the powder and closed her eyes, holding her breath for a few seconds as she felt the hit coursing through her body.
"And a recent addition to the newcomer stable House of Lords, Faith McCarron is a feisty little blonde from the Capellan Confederation. With all the power of an armored cavalry regiment in a petite package, and with a mouth that could make a Canopian blush, only time will tell if this little Valkyrie will make a name for herself, or flame out like so many here on the game world. And that's your lineup for tonight, Mech fans. The mechs are warming up in the bays, and it's almost Factory Time! We'll be back in a moment, after a word from this season's sponsor, Timbiqui Spirits!"
She could feel the energy building inside her. She blinked a few times for focus, and then pushed her way through the door of the locker room to the hallway that would lead to the mech bay. There was a small crowd of reporters and cameras that immediately snapped their focus to her, and follwed her every step as her boots clicked on the ferrocrete floor. She tuned them all out, a kind of tunnel vision leading her straight ahead down the corridor and into the cavernous mech bay.
As she entered, she saw the familiar hulking form of her K2 Catapult, "Gunnar". He was still emblazoned with the colors of the 4th Tau Ceti Rangers, armor pristine and unmarred, the stylized numeral "4" emblazoned for all to see. But now he also carried the almost mocking logo of the House of Lords stables alongside it, letting any and all opponents know that tangling with this machine and the Lady within was a loss before they even took the field. And today she would prove it.
She climbed the ladder to the cockpit and secured herself in the command couch, closing and plugging in her cooling vest, donning her neurohelmet, and flipping the switches that brought her Catapult from it's slumber. As the fusion reactor hummed to life, the metallic chill of the cockpit was replaced by an almost gentle warmth engulfing her. Now she was locked safe inside her machine. The time to do damage was almost here.
After receiving the proper clearances from the stadium techs, she slowly walked the machine down the cavernous corridor to the appointed doorway where she would make her entrance. After what seemed like an eternity, the massive doors slid open, revealing the arena. Walking slowly out into the combat zone, she felt all the familiar sensations of approaching combat, but this time was different. There was one massive addition to the experience. Even strapped into her mech, protected by sixty-five tons of armor and weapons, she could hear, and feel the roar of the crowd. It was one more level added to the high of combat. The match was on.
Solaris VII
Lyran Commonwealth
24 April, 3049
"Tonight we have a treat for you, Mech fans. This is Duncan Fisher, here to bring you the call from downtown Solaris City, as the spring season opens on the gaming circuit. You know all the players from last year, but there's an incoming crop of young hotshots looking to make a name for thmeselves, and they'll be battling it out with one another tonight."
"The Factory has been chosen for this year's open qualifier, and boy, is this one shaping up to be a good one. There are several newcomers looking for stables, and the relative peace around the Inner Sphere has seen an influx of combat veterans looking to make a name, not to mention some money, for themselves."
Though she tried to tune it out, the array of monitors pumping in the broadcast feed made it nearly impossible for Faith to ignore the commentary introduction for the upcoming match. This was a totally new animal for her. She had seen some combat with the CCAF, but here on Solaris, this was where a person could make a name for themselves. Or die trying.
She had found it relatively easy to get her name on the list for the open qualifier. The Game World always needed a fresh influx of new talent, or new bodies for the meatgrinder. She had a mech and a feisty personality, that was practically red meat to promoters here on Solaris. As far as they were concerned, if she made it, great. If not, no big loss, there were probably a hundred more waiting behind her for a shot.
But tonight was her shot, and no one else's. She had looked over the fight card for tonight, and she knew she could take any of the pilots out there. She had watched film on them all, and they were scrubs. They were meat for the meat grinder. But not her. She was going to come out on top. She had to, it was her way.
She thought back to her childhood, all those lacrosse matches, the crowd, the thrill of victory. Of course, the consequences of defeat were order of magnitude more harsh here, but the adrenaline rush was the same. Win at all costs. There was no other option.
Speaking of adrenaline, she felt the pre-rush running through her veins, mixed with the chill of the room. Wearing only her mesh shorts and tank top, with knee length boots and her cooling vest still open and inactive, the almost antiseptic chill of the locker room reached almost into a person's soul.
She looked down at the small line of white powder on the steel table. The Game World was no-holds-barred. There was no such thing as drug testing or doping scandals here on Solaris. If it got you though the match, power to you. This particular mix she had gotten from a Warrior House veteran on a campaign some years ago. A mixture of psycho-stimulants and opiates, it had gotten her though many a battlefield, giving her an edge and a focus that could mean the difference between life and death. Of course, all the medical evidence said it would take years off her life, turn her into a junkie, or make her heart explode one day, but the odds were that a Gauss rifle round was going to do that long before this cocktail would.
With one quick motion, she inhaled the powder and closed her eyes, holding her breath for a few seconds as she felt the hit coursing through her body.
"And a recent addition to the newcomer stable House of Lords, Faith McCarron is a feisty little blonde from the Capellan Confederation. With all the power of an armored cavalry regiment in a petite package, and with a mouth that could make a Canopian blush, only time will tell if this little Valkyrie will make a name for herself, or flame out like so many here on the game world. And that's your lineup for tonight, Mech fans. The mechs are warming up in the bays, and it's almost Factory Time! We'll be back in a moment, after a word from this season's sponsor, Timbiqui Spirits!"
She could feel the energy building inside her. She blinked a few times for focus, and then pushed her way through the door of the locker room to the hallway that would lead to the mech bay. There was a small crowd of reporters and cameras that immediately snapped their focus to her, and follwed her every step as her boots clicked on the ferrocrete floor. She tuned them all out, a kind of tunnel vision leading her straight ahead down the corridor and into the cavernous mech bay.
As she entered, she saw the familiar hulking form of her K2 Catapult, "Gunnar". He was still emblazoned with the colors of the 4th Tau Ceti Rangers, armor pristine and unmarred, the stylized numeral "4" emblazoned for all to see. But now he also carried the almost mocking logo of the House of Lords stables alongside it, letting any and all opponents know that tangling with this machine and the Lady within was a loss before they even took the field. And today she would prove it.
She climbed the ladder to the cockpit and secured herself in the command couch, closing and plugging in her cooling vest, donning her neurohelmet, and flipping the switches that brought her Catapult from it's slumber. As the fusion reactor hummed to life, the metallic chill of the cockpit was replaced by an almost gentle warmth engulfing her. Now she was locked safe inside her machine. The time to do damage was almost here.
After receiving the proper clearances from the stadium techs, she slowly walked the machine down the cavernous corridor to the appointed doorway where she would make her entrance. After what seemed like an eternity, the massive doors slid open, revealing the arena. Walking slowly out into the combat zone, she felt all the familiar sensations of approaching combat, but this time was different. There was one massive addition to the experience. Even strapped into her mech, protected by sixty-five tons of armor and weapons, she could hear, and feel the roar of the crowd. It was one more level added to the high of combat. The match was on.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Capella Prime
Capella
Capellan Confederation
19 January, 3050
It was dark and rainy, pretty much the cliche atmosphere for this sort of thing. The DavRats had their infantry out patrolling the streets, but it was easy enough to blend in. They didn't really care, as long as you weren't shooting at them.
She had already spent more time out roaming the streets searching for the right contacts than she would have liked, but it couldn't be helped. The people she was looking for were nervous right now. With the change in administration of the planet, there would be a feeling out process for the less-than-legal elements of Capella's society. Of course, she was banking on that.
She entered the small restaurant and took a moment to let the rain from outside drip off before proceeding any further. She hadn't thought it possible, but it was darker inside this place than it was out on the street. The booths that lined the outer walls each had their own small lamp to light them, but the main lighting for the room itself was subdued.
A small woman, dressed very traditionally in a dark green robe ushered Faith to a booth and set a small menu in front of her. Faith looked over the menu, even though she didn't need to. "I'll take the General Tso's Chicken" she said, making sure to make brief eye contact with the hostess. At least the owner had a sense of humor, using that ancient Terran dish as the code word. As she handed the menu back to the hostess, she slipped a small piece of paper underneath it. The woman shuffled gracefully off to the back of the establishment.
Faith took a brief moment to survey they room. It was fairly late in the evening now, passing into night time, but there was still a family seated at one booth enjoying their meal. A few other lone patrons dotted the room, all of them looking as if they were actually there for the food. Of course, one never could tell. She, the blonde haired, blue-eyed Caucasian was the one that stuck out like a sore thumb in the Asian establishment.
A few moments later, the hostess returned. "If you would follow me, the Grass Slipper would like a word" Faith followed the woman into a narrow hallway. The hall snaked in several directions, with closed doors off to each side, before finally ending in a flight of descending stairs. At the base of the stairs was a door, guarded by two burly looking men. The guards sized her up briefly, before one opened the door to grant her admission.
The room beyond was opulently decorated in traditional Chinese style. Like everywhere within this establishment, the lighting was subdued, but was subtly raised enough to show the decorations and furnishings. The smell of opium smoke hung in the air. The man she was here to see, the Grass Slipper, clearly wanted visitors to see his wealth and status, even if he was a only mid-level boss in Capella's organized crime scene.
The man himself was of average size, but his dark, almond shaped eyes exuded his leadership and power. His clothing, perfectly tailored, was of the latest fashion trend in the Confederation. He sat back confidently in a large chair at the center of the far wall of the room. The left and right walls each featured several lieutenants or henchmen in their own chairs, a few with women attending to them, and all arranged so that they faced the Grass Slipper.
"What is it that I may do for the armed forces of her most wise Celestial Wisdom, the Chancellor?" His words were practiced, showing the proper deference that all citizens should give to the Chancellor, but at the same time letting Faith know that this was his turf, not the Chancellors.
"I'm looking for someone." She kept it short and sweet, unsure yet of how he planned on playing this out.
"I'm sure I could make arrangements for you with any number of men that could bring you pleasure, but I'm afraid you must be more specific. And I would have though this a bad time for such liaisons, what with the evacuations and such." He smiled wryly, and gestured to a large and plush looking chair that sat in front of him. She accepted his offer and sank back in the chair.
"That is not what I'm looking for. And besides, I don't pay for it."
"Ah, no offense intended, my lady. I merely assumed. But, if not that, what is it that you seek before you leave us here at the mercy of the devil Hanse Davion?" He was playing more patriotic than he needed to, but it didn't bother her.
"You are correct, we will be leaving soon. For a time. But when I leave, there is a certain person that I want to leave with me. I don't have the time or the means of locating her. You do. And so," she said with a smile, "Here I am."
"I am glad that you think so highly of my business. And I assure you, under normal circumstances your request would not be a problem at all. But with the recent unpleasantness, you understand, my resources are taxed."
"I'm sure. And with us leaving, your resources are going to be stretched even thinner. Of course, if I were to leave this planet happy, I might also happen to leave the locations where someone might find all sorts of items he might need to stay in business and keep the Davions off balance."
He perked up at that. "So, Lady McCarron, if I were to find and spirit this person you seek away to you before you leave us, I would find myself in possession of the location of supply dumps of weapons and other things that I might find useful against the occupiers?"
"And you would be in possession of those weapons even after we return to liberate this planet. Which, I'm sure you would recognize, would give you a leg up on anyone that you might happen to be rivals with. You win, I win, the Confederation wins." she waved her hand. "What's not to like?"
He smiled. "Of course, always the Confederation and her Celestial Wisdom above all else. I am certain that we can locate this person that you seek." He snapped his fingers. "Pass along the details to my lieutenant here, and it shall be done. And now, my Lady, may I offer you a parting gift of our Great Tobacco? A finer product you will not find short of Sian itself. Something to encourage you to return in liberation as soon as is possible."
She accepted the pipe from the servant who had appeared, along with the lamp, while the Grass Slipper was speaking. "Don't mind if I do..."
Capella
Capellan Confederation
19 January, 3050
It was dark and rainy, pretty much the cliche atmosphere for this sort of thing. The DavRats had their infantry out patrolling the streets, but it was easy enough to blend in. They didn't really care, as long as you weren't shooting at them.
She had already spent more time out roaming the streets searching for the right contacts than she would have liked, but it couldn't be helped. The people she was looking for were nervous right now. With the change in administration of the planet, there would be a feeling out process for the less-than-legal elements of Capella's society. Of course, she was banking on that.
She entered the small restaurant and took a moment to let the rain from outside drip off before proceeding any further. She hadn't thought it possible, but it was darker inside this place than it was out on the street. The booths that lined the outer walls each had their own small lamp to light them, but the main lighting for the room itself was subdued.
A small woman, dressed very traditionally in a dark green robe ushered Faith to a booth and set a small menu in front of her. Faith looked over the menu, even though she didn't need to. "I'll take the General Tso's Chicken" she said, making sure to make brief eye contact with the hostess. At least the owner had a sense of humor, using that ancient Terran dish as the code word. As she handed the menu back to the hostess, she slipped a small piece of paper underneath it. The woman shuffled gracefully off to the back of the establishment.
Faith took a brief moment to survey they room. It was fairly late in the evening now, passing into night time, but there was still a family seated at one booth enjoying their meal. A few other lone patrons dotted the room, all of them looking as if they were actually there for the food. Of course, one never could tell. She, the blonde haired, blue-eyed Caucasian was the one that stuck out like a sore thumb in the Asian establishment.
A few moments later, the hostess returned. "If you would follow me, the Grass Slipper would like a word" Faith followed the woman into a narrow hallway. The hall snaked in several directions, with closed doors off to each side, before finally ending in a flight of descending stairs. At the base of the stairs was a door, guarded by two burly looking men. The guards sized her up briefly, before one opened the door to grant her admission.
The room beyond was opulently decorated in traditional Chinese style. Like everywhere within this establishment, the lighting was subdued, but was subtly raised enough to show the decorations and furnishings. The smell of opium smoke hung in the air. The man she was here to see, the Grass Slipper, clearly wanted visitors to see his wealth and status, even if he was a only mid-level boss in Capella's organized crime scene.
The man himself was of average size, but his dark, almond shaped eyes exuded his leadership and power. His clothing, perfectly tailored, was of the latest fashion trend in the Confederation. He sat back confidently in a large chair at the center of the far wall of the room. The left and right walls each featured several lieutenants or henchmen in their own chairs, a few with women attending to them, and all arranged so that they faced the Grass Slipper.
"What is it that I may do for the armed forces of her most wise Celestial Wisdom, the Chancellor?" His words were practiced, showing the proper deference that all citizens should give to the Chancellor, but at the same time letting Faith know that this was his turf, not the Chancellors.
"I'm looking for someone." She kept it short and sweet, unsure yet of how he planned on playing this out.
"I'm sure I could make arrangements for you with any number of men that could bring you pleasure, but I'm afraid you must be more specific. And I would have though this a bad time for such liaisons, what with the evacuations and such." He smiled wryly, and gestured to a large and plush looking chair that sat in front of him. She accepted his offer and sank back in the chair.
"That is not what I'm looking for. And besides, I don't pay for it."
"Ah, no offense intended, my lady. I merely assumed. But, if not that, what is it that you seek before you leave us here at the mercy of the devil Hanse Davion?" He was playing more patriotic than he needed to, but it didn't bother her.
"You are correct, we will be leaving soon. For a time. But when I leave, there is a certain person that I want to leave with me. I don't have the time or the means of locating her. You do. And so," she said with a smile, "Here I am."
"I am glad that you think so highly of my business. And I assure you, under normal circumstances your request would not be a problem at all. But with the recent unpleasantness, you understand, my resources are taxed."
"I'm sure. And with us leaving, your resources are going to be stretched even thinner. Of course, if I were to leave this planet happy, I might also happen to leave the locations where someone might find all sorts of items he might need to stay in business and keep the Davions off balance."
He perked up at that. "So, Lady McCarron, if I were to find and spirit this person you seek away to you before you leave us, I would find myself in possession of the location of supply dumps of weapons and other things that I might find useful against the occupiers?"
"And you would be in possession of those weapons even after we return to liberate this planet. Which, I'm sure you would recognize, would give you a leg up on anyone that you might happen to be rivals with. You win, I win, the Confederation wins." she waved her hand. "What's not to like?"
He smiled. "Of course, always the Confederation and her Celestial Wisdom above all else. I am certain that we can locate this person that you seek." He snapped his fingers. "Pass along the details to my lieutenant here, and it shall be done. And now, my Lady, may I offer you a parting gift of our Great Tobacco? A finer product you will not find short of Sian itself. Something to encourage you to return in liberation as soon as is possible."
She accepted the pipe from the servant who had appeared, along with the lamp, while the Grass Slipper was speaking. "Don't mind if I do..."