The Bar

 

Port Howard

Towne

Federated Suns

29 April, 3077

 

            The campaign was over. The Word had been driven from the planet. Everyone was in rebuilding mode, trying to consolidate their forces and get back to functional strength. It wasn’t easy, as they had taken significant losses in the effort to liberate Towne.

            Thankfully for Azalea Thomas, that meant that she didn’t have to patch anyone up. She could focus on patching herself up. She felt like she had been running on autopilot throughout the campaign. Somewhere along the way, she had lost herself. She didn’t know if she would ever find herself again. But at least the combat had stopped.

            With that, the Fifth Crucis Lancers had hunkered down and tried to rebuild as best they could to make themselves ready for the next operation. There was always a next operation. For now, that meant a whole lot of waiting. She had tried to clear her mind, to forget the things that had happened, but try as she might, she could not.

            Tonight she found herself in a bar in the capital city of Port Howard. Most of the unit was out for relaxation duty, and she had forced herself to go out just to escape the monotony of the base. She had too much time to think there, too much time to dwell on things, and where they had gone wrong.

            She had never envisioned herself as a combat medic when she had signed up with the Lancers a little over three years ago. She had grown bored of her existence on Belladonna, and wanted to see the Inner Sphere. She wanted adventure, at least that was what she had thought at the time. She never could have imagined the unfolding of the Jihad, her unit’s call up to combat roles, or her proximity to the front.

            It was all a whirlwind that had swept her up and carried her along, to where she felt like she barely had any agency any more. This wasn’t the adventure she had signed up for. But it was the adventure she was living.

            The bar was one on the list of approved establishments to spent time off, and it was seeing a resurgence with the influx of FedSuns soldiers. The staff were overworked, the drinks were watered down and the ambiance was terrible. But it was somewhere off base, and that was what she needed. She had already downed two rum and coke’s, watered down as they were she was barely feeling it.

            There was a dance floor, but she didn’t feel much like dancing. Just as she was about to order another drink, a man bumped into her.

            “Sorry!” he shouted over the din of what passed for FedSuns country music on Towne.

            “It’s okay.”

            “What are you up to this evening, soldier.”

            She flashed a confused look. “I’m not a soldier. I’m a medic”

            “Seems like it’s all the same when the lasers heat up. Point is you’re not a civvie. There’s a lot of them trying to sink their teeth into a soldier for the experience.”

            “And what are you trying to sink your teeth into?”

            “Me? I’m just looking for a good game of pool. Helps calm the nerves and keeps the mind sharp.”

            The man seemed to be in his late twenties, with brown hair cut the way she had seen a million soldiers sporting. There was some air of confidence to him, and he seemed comfortable in his own skin.

            “I take it you’re not a civvie either?”

            “No ma’am. Would you believe me if I told you I was a MechWarrior?”

            She thought long and hard. “Maybe. Are You?”

            “Does it matter?”

            “Not to me. I patch you guys up just the same as the poor bloody infantry.”

            He smiled. “But we’re not just the PBI. We’re something of an acquired taste.”

            “So you’re saying that you’re hard to get along with?”

            He shook his head. “No, I’m saying I’m just a bit different from everyone else here.”

            She laughed. “You sound a bit cocky”

            “That comes with riding a giant stompy robot. But enough of that. Let’s play some pool.”

            He took her by the arm and led her towards a free pool table. She didn’t know why she followed him, but she did.

            “I don’t play pool”

            “Sure you do. You just haven’t tried it yet. It’s easy. Keeps the mind focused.”

            “That’s the second time you’ve said that. Focused are you?”

            “Aren’t you?”

            “Not particularly. I’m here to let go of all of this….this whatever the hell you call it.”

            “It’s called war. And I hear you. Just trust me, this will do.”

            He plugged a few coins into the table and the balls released. He racked them quickly, while she just stood there.

            “I don’t even know how to play.”

            

            “It’s simple. Stripes and Solids, that’s all you need to know. I’m sure you’ve seen the game played before.”

            She nodded. “Yeah, seems like there is always a game going on somewhere. I’ve watched it before, but that’s about it. I don’t know the rules or how to play or any of that.”

            He shrugged. “Do you have an imagination?”

            “That’s a silly question.”

            “No it’s not. This game is all about imagination. You imagine the shot you want to take, you imagine where things will go, and you just make it happen. It’s simple. People will claim there’s all kinds of geometry to it, but in reality, it’s all about imagination.”

            “I don’t even know your name.”

            “Will. Leftenant Will Tanner. 7^th Lancers.”

            “Corporal Azalea Thomas. 5^th Crucis Lancers. Most people call me Zee.”

            “Well then Zee, it’s your break”

             

Towne

 

TOWNE

WORD OF BLAKE PROTECTORATE

12 APRIL, 3077

 

            The ground shook with a roar that caught Corporal Azalea Thomas in the chest.

            “That’s orbital fire coming in. They’re trying to crack the fortress.”

            She hunkered down against the ground, while the power armor troopers around her stood their ground and observed the orbital bombardment that the FSS Indefatigable was pounding onto the Blakist compound. The defenses had been strong, so strong that orbital bombardment had been authorized to try to help clear the Blakists from their fortress.

            “How long till we charge in?”

            “Probably less than two minutes. If they’ve cracked the fortress, the perimeter is going to be stunned. That will be our go signal. The Wobbies have that crossroads buttoned up pretty tight, but I think we can crack it now that the heavy hitters are here.”

            The heavy hitters he was referring to were an assault lance of the 5^th Crucis Lancers that were going to try to storm the current stoppage. She was embedded with the infantry, which had been trying to clear the ground for the better part of a day, but the Blakist infantry and armor was dug in too well to be dislodged.

            The armor had tried to penetrate the front, with little success, and now they were bringing up Battlemechs to clear the blockage. She could feel the dull thud that was the unmistakable calling card of Battlemechs. They were close now. Things would get nasty very fast.

            A mech lurched into view. It was a Penetrator from what she could recall. From somewhere along the Blakist lines, missiles struck out towards the Penetrator. The roar of an anti-missile system was unmistakable as it clawed out at the incoming missiles. It intercepted all but one, which detonated against the Penetrator, which shrugged off the single sting of the missile’s warhead.

            The air was hot as the Penetrator fired off a blast from it’s pulse lasers, scouring the ground near where one of the missiles had come. The ground erupted and a faint pink mist could be seen, all that remained of the operator of the man-portable missile launcher.

            Months ago, this would have bothered Azalea, but she had seen too many soldiers erased from the battlefield in heinous ways to now be bothered by it. Besides, it was a Blakist. One of those zealots that had started this whole damn war.

            “Go go go!!!” and with that command, the armored soldiers beside her were gone. They sprinted forward towards the Blakist redoubt, followed by several platoons of non-BattleArmored infantry.

            This was the worst part. She hunkered down, knowing that in a metter of seconds, some of those soldiers that had run into the conflagration would be dead, and some would be wounded and need her care. For now, there was nothing she could do but wait.

            She had originally trained as a medic in the 5^th Crucis Lancers working in a rearward MASH hospital, treating the wounded that came in in a very sterile environment. But all that had changed as field medics were lost to attrition and she had been flung into the fray.

            She was good at it, but it didn’t make it any easier to be out in the field, seeing things as they happened, and more often than not, being unable to save  the  poor soldiers who were fighting against the hated Word of Blake.

            She checked her gear again. She had a lot of medical equipment at her disposal, but this new job also had her carrying a rifle, as she was in the combat area. She had it slung over her back. She hated it. She hadn’t yet fired it. She wasn’t out here to kill people. She was out here to save people.

            And she had saved quite a few. But far fewer than she would have liked. Every solder lost was a black mark against her. A lost soul that she could never save. Her first death in the field had been a Mechwarrior, but most of the people she treated were the poor infantry that went unheralded as the giant Mechs took center stage.

            She had nothing against Battlemechs, but they were detached from the killing that went on so often on the front. It was ironic, she had fled such a sterile detached environment for the chaos of the battlefield.

            “Medic!!!”

            The call snapped her out of her philosophical reverie. She jumped to her feet and scurried forward towards the scene of combat. This was the utter chaos of the battlefield, she tried to process everything that was going on, but most of it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting to the wounded in time to do the most good.

            When she first started out, she had seemed to be running around helter skleter, but over the course of a few actions, she had managed to train her brain to filter out the unnecessary and highlight where she needed to go.

            She made her way across the street and over the embankment that had been serving as a barricade for the Blakist forces. She saw a host of limp figures on the ground, some wearing the colors of the Word of Blake, some of the Lancers. Most were unmoving, but she caught sight of one man hunched over the writhing figure of another soldier. She ran as fast as she could, tapping the hunched over soldier on the back as she tried to assess the situation. This seemed like a fairly straightforward wound, the soldier on the ground had been hit by several rounds and was in intense pain.

            She searched for the wounds, and satisfied that she had found them applied pressure as best she could to stop any bleeding. With her other hand, she wrenched free a pouch of clotting agent. She tore it open with her teeth and poured the powder over the wounded area.

            She next tore free a sterile medipatch and slapped it over the wound. At this point, she realized that she hadn’t even looked the soldier in the eyes. She glanced up at his face, which was a mix of pain and fear.

            “No worries…” she paused to find the nameplate on his uniform. “Jacobs. You got lucky, they were all through and through, and nothing important got hit. I know it hurts like hell, I’m going to stay with you until they can get you to the rear. I’m going to give you something for the pain.”

            She searched her pouches for an analgesic syringe. Finding one, she jabbed Jacobs in the thigh and pushed the plunger, dispensing the numbing agent into the man’s bloodstream. Within seconds, the pain would dull some. That was the best she could do for him out in the field. This soldier had been lucky, he was most likely going to survive. She swung her head around, looking to see what the area held.

            There were bodies everywhere, but most of them were not moving. More of them were Blakist than FedSuns. She didn’t know if it made her a bad person, but she took some small comfort in that.

            She keyed her mic and called in the patient for evacuation. The best thing they could do for Jacobs now was to get him back to the rear where things were more sterile and les chaotic. As she was calling it in, she noticed Jacobs’ hand clutching at her wrist.

            “Jacobs, what’s your first name?”

            “Nick”

            “Ok Nick. What brought you here?”

            The man blinked and stared at her. “What do you mean?”

            “It’s going to be a while before the evac medics get here, you might as well tell me something about yourself. What brought you here?”

            “No choice really. Grew up poor on Belladonna. There wasn’t much prospect for me, the recruiter said it would be an easy way to make a living. I send most of my pay home to my folks. Things were great until this whole damn Jihad broke out. I never thought I would see combat. Never wanted to see combat.”

            “Well that makes two of us. And I’m from Belladonna too. This was my adventure. Some adventure, huh?”

            “But you help people, right?”

            “I try. But I could have helped people way back on Belladonna just the same. Foolish me thinking that enlisting would be something fun. I never dreamed that I’d see combat. I thought things were simmering down. Then everything hit the fan and I found myself out here.”

            “I’m glad you’re here”

            “You and me both, Jacobs. You and me both.”

            “Do you like what you do?”

            She paused. She never really gave that question much thought. She had been mostly running on adrenaline since the outbreak of the Jihad, and she never really had stopped to consider if she liked what she was doing. It was just what she did.”

            “Yeah, I think so. It beats the hell out of what you guys do. There’s no way that I could do what you do. You guys are the real heroes. I never thought I’d support a war, but this one….this one needs to happen. The Blakists, they just can’t win. So I keep doing what I’m doing, so they don’t win.”

 

New Demeter City

Demeter

Word of Blake Protectorate

19 February 3077

 

 

            Azalea Thomas had been in the shower for over 20 minutes. It didn’t matter that the water in the field shower was cold, she kept scrubbing, trying to scrub the blood away. There was no reason that this should be any different than a hundred other scrub downs after a long shift at a M*A*S*H unit, but it was. This time it was different. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she could not get the blood off her hands.

            “Zee, you okay in there? You’re growing old, you know.” The voice of her friend and fellow nurse Bella shocked her back to reality.

            Her hands were clean, but there was still blood on them. “Yeah, I’m fine, Bella.”

            She cranked the knob and shut off the flow of water, closing her eyes and steeling herself to put the mask back on. The mask that said she was fine to the world, when in fact, she was horribly broken from the death of a young MechWarrior in her care just hours before.

            She wasn’t a combat medic, she wasn’t made for this. She just wanted to go back to the sterile environs of a field hospital, where at least she could compartmentalize things in some fashion. Once that happened, everything would be fine. She would be fine.

            She wrapped herself in a towel and left the shower stall, finding her friend waiting for her in the locker area. She dried herself and dressed as quickly as she could, in silence.

            “You sure you’re okay, Zee? You seem…off”

            “I’m fine, just a rough shift, you know. Things will be fine in no time.”

            She looked down at her hands again. Clean, but stained with blood, still.

            “Dr. Killmeade wants to see you when you’re up for it. Sgt Grahame has been hounding me for the last ten minutes or so.”

            “Yeah, I’ll just get sorted and head right over.”

            Bella put her hand on Azalea’s shoulder. “You know, you can just go back to working in the hospital. You don’t have to go back into the field if you don’t want to.”

            She nodded. “I know, that’s what I plan on doing. Being out in the field…it’s just not for me.”

            She had barely gotten her hair squared away when the Sergeant rounded the corner. “Thomas, the Doc wants to see you ASAP. I wouldn’t keep him waiting long.”

            He was right, of course. The sooner she got things sorted out with Dr. Killmeade, the sooner she could put this whole mess behind her.

            A few moments later, she found herself outside of Killmeade’s makeshift office, pausing before she entered. Why did it feel like reporting to the principal’s office? Dr. Marcus Kilmeade was young for a doctor, or at least it seemed so in the Fifth Crucis Lancers, but as her supervising physician he had always been fair to her.

            She knocked on the door, and entered when he signaled.

            “Corporal Thomas, glad to see you.”

            “Thank you sir”

            “I hear that you had a rough time in the combat evac zone today and you want to transfer back to field hospital duty.”

            She steeled herself. “ Yes sir. I don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of work.”

            “You lost a patient on your first outing, that can be rough. But I don’t agree that you aren’t suited for the assignment. You handled yourself well, I heard only good things from the front.”

            “It’s not that I lost him, sir. It’s just…there was nothing I could do.”

            “And that is where you’re wrong, Corporal. You did do something . You were there for that poor boy at the end. That’s no small thing. You didn’t lose your wits, you stayed with him, and you handled yourself admirably.”

            I still feel like a failure, sir.”

            I’m going to be honest with you, we are short on combat medics. It’s a dangerous job, and not everyone is cut out for it. But I feel like you are.”

            “So you’re denying my request to transfer back to field hospital work?”

            He shook his head. “I’m asking you to stay in this new role. You had a hard time of it, but I think that you can make a go of it. We need people like you out there. This damn war isn’t going to end any time soon. There are going to be more battles, and a lot more soldiers out in the field that need what you can give. Some of them will make it, some of them won’t. But you’ll do a service to all of them.”

            She paused. She couldn’t believe that she was even considering it. She still had blood on her hands. How could she go forward with this?

            “I understand, sir. I’m willing to give it a try”

            And with that, her life was changed forever.

I Feel Lost

     I feel lost. That's all I can say at this point. I don't know my place in the community anymore, and I certainly don't understand my identity. I don't feel like I have any direction in which I'm going, or should go.I feel rudderless, totally lost on a sea of possibilities. I just don't know where to go.

    I want to create content that I can't. I don't feel like diving back into fanfiction is going to get me anywhere. If anything, I feel like it will take me back. I want to monetize my love of the game as well, but I don't feel like I have the content to warrant that. I don't know where to go.

    I love this game and this comunity, in spite of everything that has happened. I just want to find my place in it, and right now I feel lost. 

Blainesplaining

    I had a whole host of things written to respond to Blaine's latest foray into narcissism, but I decided against it. I have to move on. And that means moving past the tit-for-tat game that he would continue to play. Instead, I will wish him success in his endeavors going forward. I want no part of them, but that doesn't mean there isn't room for him to thrive amongst his flock of like minded folk. Their game, their country, their world, is not one I want to live in, but hey, you guys do you. 

    I am focused on a Battletech Universe and community that can thrive now that it has been freed of some of the toxic elements weighing it down. Battletech is in a great place right now. There are a whole host of incredible authors working on some amazing stuff, and I will do everything in my power to support them. The game itself is in the best place it has been in decades. The fiction that we are getting now is some of the most enriching and fulfilling material that has ever graced the Battletech canon. There is going to be an amazing Kickstarter coming up in March that is going to give us more minis and fiction and Battletech goodness.

    I'm excited for what is to come next in Battletech. I hope to be as much a part of it as I possibly can be. I hope that you all will join me along the way. It is a great time to be a Battletech fan, people! Enjoy it!

Some Fact Checking

     Ok, so there has been lots of misinformation thrown around here. Let me get some facts out here that I can share now that my identity is out there.

    1: I am a "violent criminal": False.  I have exactly one criminal charge in my past. That charge is a plea to a misdemeanor in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Here is what happened. I lost my job during the pandemic. This caused a spiral of my anxiety and depression, and I self medicated with alcohol. While under the influence of alcohol, I threatened to kill myself at my former place of employment in an attempt to get people to understand my pain. It was wrong, I pled guilty to a charge of Terrorist Threats and received mental health treatment for my issues. This is the extent of my record. None of it is related to Blaine.

    2: I lied about adopting children: False. I never claimed to have adopted children. I claimed to have twins. This is partially true and partially false. I do not have twins via IVF with a partner. I do have two children that I care for who are not biologically my own. I love them very much.

    3: I lied in order to get published or get money from people: False. I never lied in any attempt to get published. I never tried to get money out of people because of my identity. I adopted the false persona years before I ever even imagined getting published. People came to me about my writing and suggested that I write something to get published, and I tried and succeeded. Not because of my false claims, but because of my ability. I will not be gaslit on this topic. I am proud of my writing and I will always stand by it.

Faith No More

 

The time to tell the complete truth has come. I can’t go on keeping up a mask any longer. This is going to be painful for people, but I owe you all the truth. Faith McClosky does not exist. It is a persona that I have used for over 10 years in order to gain acceptance. I am speaking to you now as “J”

So much of Faith is real and authentic, but so much is also fluff and lies meant to protect myself from rejection. When I sat down at a keyboard ten years ago, I felt like I could be anyone. I felt that the real me had no value or relevance, that I would never be accepted. I wanted to be free to express myself, my true self, without fear of rejection. In that moment, Faith McClosky was born. Faith allowed me to be myself, to express myself, to share myself in ways that I felt I couldn’t otherwise to people. For ten years, I have been Faith to the community, pouring myself into Faith and feeling validated sharing myself with the community.

I need to build bridges and mend fences, and I cannot do that anymore based on lies. So Here I am, coming clean.

I will explain my identity as best I can, given that I do not fully understand it myself. When I created Faith, identifying as female online simply felt natural to me. When I sat back and let go, Faith is who I naturally felt like. Over time, people came to accept me as a woman, or as a Transwoman. But I am not a transwoman. I allowed it to go on because I didn’t know how to correct it. Everything became wrapped up in my identity as Faith, and to tell people the truth scared me incredibly. Neither am I just a cis man. There is something more to me, but I don’t know what that is. I’ve tried to explore that online and it has caused much pain and hurt to people that didn’t deserve it. That has to stop.

So much of what people have come to love about me are real and authentic. My love of Battletech. My writing. My passion for social justice. All of that is real. The Faith persona allowed me to share that in a way that I was too frightened to otherwise. But the persona and lies surrounding it have become a burden that has grown heavier, and has hurt people in the process.

I never meant to hurt anyone, but I have to recognize that my actions have hurt people. I can’t go on without doing that. To anyone that I have hurt, know that your pain is valid, and I am truly sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, I simply thought so little of myself that I felt I needed to lie.

Matters became further complicated when my writing got noticed by people at CGL. Now my identity was in question and wrapped up in my publication. I blundered through the publication process trying to maintain the secret of my identity and made things worse with my mistakes. I’m sorry for any problems I have caused anyone at CGL on the publication end. I was operating out of ignorance and fear.

I have tried to soften this, to peel away the lies and keep Faith at the core, but I can’t do that anymore. It simply doesn’t work. Faith has to go. I have to be something else. Something that was always there, just with the mask of Faith covering my own insecurities. So going forward, I’m going to be Ace Kaller to the online community. Faith is no more. I am Ace now. Ace is still passionate about Battletech, the community, writing, social justice and everything that you came to know me as, but I can do this now authentically without the façade.

Over the next few days, everything with flow over into this new, authentic identity. Names will change. The person will not. I know many of you will feel hurt. To you, I apologize. I know many of you will be angry. To you, I accept your anger as valid, and if you need to share it with me, feel free to do so. I know many of you will have questions for me. I will do my absolute best to answer these questions for people going forward. There are going to be some things kept private, but I will answer any questions that I can with the truth. If It’s something I can’t reveal, I will simply tell you so.

I hope that after reading all of this, that those of you that I have made an impact on will still accept me. I genuinely value so many people in this community, and I don’t want that to ever stop. I hope that you can forgive me for my insecurities and my hurtful actions. I hope that we can continue our Battletech journey going forward, with the lies and the mask gone.