Stratford
Avon
Irece Prefecture, Pesht Military District
Draconis Combine
15 April, 3050
The bar was dark, as it seemed most were anymore, but this one was lit mostly by candles. Or some approximation of candles. Faith had to admit, the decor in here was fairly impressive. The surfaces reflected the light from the candles in a way that, while dim, still set an ambiance of wealth and status. This was no dive. The tables were fairly ornate, the carvings visible through their glass tops. The spacious bar itself had a solid dark wood top which gave an air of stability to the entire establishment.
The female waitstaff deftly moved among the customers like a choreographed dance, ensuring that no patron wanted for food or drink any longer than was necessary. The three bartenders behind the bar moved efficiently, but with an air of style about them as they served drinks to the patrons who chose the bar over the myriad of tables throughout the room.
Faith made her way to an empty seat at the bar, smiling subtly at the sidelong glances and hushed whispers that accompanied her entrance. From her quick survey of the room, the information in the briefing had been correct. The bar was filled almost entirely with DCMS officers, with a few civilians sprinkled in, probably important figures in the local community. And they were almost exclusively men.
If she had thought the Confederation was a patriarchal society, it certainly had nothing on the Draconis Combine. In the brief time that they had already spent in Combine space, she had already nearly tussled with more than a few misogynistic DCMS officers, and it was beginning to get on her nerves. She had always avoided the Kobe district during her days on Solaris, and now she remembered why.
The cultural briefing had described this bar as one of the best, but had also noted that it catered to the Combine elite. Mercenaries were certainly encouraged to stay away, and to frequent the lower class establishments in the poorer district of the capital city. Such information, of course, had been like blood to a shark with Faith, and as soon as the unit had gotten their gear stored and secured at their temporary barracks, she had set out to find this place.
And that was how she found herself sitting at the bar, sporting her field jacket which bore the patches both of the 4th Tau Ceti Rangers and the House of Lords stable. This was the bar for the elite, and she considered herself such.
After several minutes with no service, she finally piped up. "Barkeep! What's a girl gotta do to get a drink in this place?"
The bartenders each shot her a nervous glance, and then their eyes darted towards a man standing further back at the bar, almost at the doors to the rear area. He was Japanese, likely in his late forties, impeccably groomed and clothed in a suit that absolutely screamed money. If he wasn't the owner, he was at least some kind of big shot. She locked eyes with him. He stood motionless for a time, before slowly making his way over to where Faith sat.
"In this establishment, decorum is important. I ask that you not raise your voice." Without looking, she knew that the attention of the room, be it overt or subtle, had shifted to their conversation.
"And I would ask for a drink, but your staff seems...inattentive."
"Yes, well I am sure there are many establishments where a person such as yourself might get a drink far more quickly, miss...?" The disrespect in his tone was glaring.
"McCarron. Lady McCarron. And I'm here at this establishment. I didn't see a sign on the door telling me to keep out. Maybe you should think about hiring a bouncer."
By now, several of the DCMS officers in the room had stood up and made their way over to the bar, crowding around her. "Here in the Combine, there is no need for such things, people know their place and need not be reminded of it. Perhaps it is different where your kind of people come from, but here, we have respect.
"Yeah, well you might want to work on that. There are some Clans kicking your front door in, and you need help from outside the little boys club to keep them out." She knew the clan reference would raise the hackles of all of the Combine soldiers around her, but she threw it in anyway.
One of them, a Captain, or whatever the Kurita equivalent was, took the bait. "We are keeping the Clan out with our steadfast devotion to the coordinator. We do not need your sell-swords. There was a time when the Coordinators words were 'Death to Mercenaries'. And while I do not recall any of us placing an order for a woman to come here to sell her...services, we would be happy to entertain you. I see you come from the Capellan Confederation, no doubt your rates are cheap enough."
That was all she needed. The Drac was not expecting her punch, and the blow caught him squarely in the face, sending him reeling. The crowd that had gathered around her stepped back quickly, as stools clattered to the floor. The Kuritan replied with a punch-drunken swing at her which she easily deflected, sending him sprawling on the floor.
She started to turn to face the crowd, but she was interrupted by a sharp blow to the right side of her head. She didn't know where it came from, but it sent her vision spiraling into chaos. The next few minutes were a jumbled blur of double vision, blows given and received, and a sea of disorientation. She vaguely remembered being manhandled, and feeling the cool outside air on her face, before a sharp crack sent her into unconsciousness.
The next thing she remembered was gasping, the shock and confusion of awakening in an unfamiliar environment. She sat bolt upright, as someone had thrown a bucket of extremely cold water on her face to snap her awake. It took her a few seconds of spitting and sputtering to gain her bearings, and she was aware that she was sitting on some kind of cheap cot. The room was still spinning somewhat, but she made out the form of a man in uniform holding a bucket, clearly the villain that had brought her back to consciousness. As she blinked away the cobwebs in her vision, she realized she was in a cell, and that three men stood just inside the door. She relaxed, recognizing Orkdung, Ace, and Vandril.
"Morning boys. How was your night?"
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Castle McCarron
Altorra
Sian Commonality
Capellan Confederation
10 December, 3145
"My Lady, we must hurry. If we don't leave soon, we'll miss the rendezvous."
There was just enough of a breeze to move the cold air of the Altorran winter across her face as Freyja McCarron shoved her hands a little deeper into the pockets of her parka. She stood on the balcony and took in the grand view of the gentle valley below. The recent snow still covered most of the ground and the trees, only the tops of a few particularly jutting rocks peeking out, and the gentle winding of the river stood out against the still pure white of the snow.
"Thank you, Henry. I'll be along presently, I assure you." With that, her aide turned scurried back inside as quickly as would seem appropriate, no doubt to double or triple check some minute detail. She stood motionless for another minute or so, taking in the serenity.
"It can be hard to leave, sometimes, can't it?" She paused for a brief second before turning her head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the speaker. She didn't really need to, but she always liked to acknowledge someone's presence, however subtly. As she did, a soft gust of wind brought a chill to her, gently swirling strands of her blonde hair around her face.
"You'll catch a death of cold, Auntie Cat." The woman next to her gave no sign that she noticed the cold air, in spite of her age. She wasn't Freyja's aunt, or an actual blood relative of any kind, but the title had stuck with the family friend sometime along the road of her past years of association with the family. In spite of being over one hundred years old, her skin and eyes still showed the life and energy of someone perhaps half her age.
"It will take far more than a cold to finally put me in my grave, child. But Henry is right, you should be moving along. The JumpShip will wait for you, the fleet at the rendezvous will not. And lovely as this place is, trust me, there will come a time when you wish you could still leave on adventures."
Freyja chuckled. "I'm sure you could still kill Davions with the best of us, Auntie." The woman smiled softly in return.
"I'm sure I could, but I'm smart enough to know I shouldn't." She paused for a brief moment, sighing, before continuing, "But still proud enough to hate that fact. Don't worry though, girl, this place will be waiting for you when you come back. Trust me, I was around when they built it back in the 50's"
The "fifties" she was referring to were the 3050's, of course, now almost one hundred years ago when her great-grandmother, Faith, had built the castle. It had passed down through the women of the family, coming to Freyja scant years before, when her own mother had died fighting the Republic. She had also inherited the title of "Lady", although now it was a hereditary title of nobility, not the title that her great-grandmother had won in combat and worn more as a sign of pride and bravery than anything else. That was a much simpler time, a time of adventures.
"You still miss it, don't you?" she asked of the older woman.
Cat stared out over the landscape for a time, before turning back to Freyja. "The fighting? Yes, a little. The killing, no. The people, all the time." She paused for a moment, as if remembering. "Relish all the time you have with your comrades. If you're lucky, you won't outlive them. There's something about riding into battle in a mech with people you trust and care about, that you'll never get back once it passes. You'll be the first one in your family that I never fought beside, you know."
"And which of them was the best?"
The older woman shook her head with a gentle smile. "That's not something you ever think about. It's like a person ranking which children they love the most, or which of their lovers were the best. It's just best not done. They were all great. Great women, and great mechwarriors. Of all of them, you look most like Faith. But heavens knows, you haven't got a tenth of her impatience or temper. If you did, you wouldn't be standing here pondering on such things, you would be burning hard for the jump point now to get to the fight as fast as you can."
"So you're saying I should be more impatient and angry? Now that's a hell of a thing to say to a girl," she chuckled.
Cat put her hand gently on Freyja's shoulder. "Never be anything but what you are. It served all of them well, and it will serve you too. Faith and I, we fought in a very different time."
That much was very true. Faith, her great-grandmother, had been the first in her family to become a mechwarrior. She had seen the coming of the Clans, fought in the fires of the Jihad, and witnessed the birth of the Republic of the Sphere. All of those things were parts of the world that Freyja took for granted.
One thing that remained the same, however, was the omnipresent threat of House Davion. Soon enough, Freyja would be meeting up with an assault force that would be hitting the DavRats hard.
"Well, I have a date with the Tau Ceti Lancers, and like it or not, they won't wait up for me."
The two shared a long embrace. "Take care of yourself, Freyja."
Altorra
Sian Commonality
Capellan Confederation
10 December, 3145
"My Lady, we must hurry. If we don't leave soon, we'll miss the rendezvous."
There was just enough of a breeze to move the cold air of the Altorran winter across her face as Freyja McCarron shoved her hands a little deeper into the pockets of her parka. She stood on the balcony and took in the grand view of the gentle valley below. The recent snow still covered most of the ground and the trees, only the tops of a few particularly jutting rocks peeking out, and the gentle winding of the river stood out against the still pure white of the snow.
"Thank you, Henry. I'll be along presently, I assure you." With that, her aide turned scurried back inside as quickly as would seem appropriate, no doubt to double or triple check some minute detail. She stood motionless for another minute or so, taking in the serenity.
"It can be hard to leave, sometimes, can't it?" She paused for a brief second before turning her head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the speaker. She didn't really need to, but she always liked to acknowledge someone's presence, however subtly. As she did, a soft gust of wind brought a chill to her, gently swirling strands of her blonde hair around her face.
"You'll catch a death of cold, Auntie Cat." The woman next to her gave no sign that she noticed the cold air, in spite of her age. She wasn't Freyja's aunt, or an actual blood relative of any kind, but the title had stuck with the family friend sometime along the road of her past years of association with the family. In spite of being over one hundred years old, her skin and eyes still showed the life and energy of someone perhaps half her age.
"It will take far more than a cold to finally put me in my grave, child. But Henry is right, you should be moving along. The JumpShip will wait for you, the fleet at the rendezvous will not. And lovely as this place is, trust me, there will come a time when you wish you could still leave on adventures."
Freyja chuckled. "I'm sure you could still kill Davions with the best of us, Auntie." The woman smiled softly in return.
"I'm sure I could, but I'm smart enough to know I shouldn't." She paused for a brief moment, sighing, before continuing, "But still proud enough to hate that fact. Don't worry though, girl, this place will be waiting for you when you come back. Trust me, I was around when they built it back in the 50's"
The "fifties" she was referring to were the 3050's, of course, now almost one hundred years ago when her great-grandmother, Faith, had built the castle. It had passed down through the women of the family, coming to Freyja scant years before, when her own mother had died fighting the Republic. She had also inherited the title of "Lady", although now it was a hereditary title of nobility, not the title that her great-grandmother had won in combat and worn more as a sign of pride and bravery than anything else. That was a much simpler time, a time of adventures.
"You still miss it, don't you?" she asked of the older woman.
Cat stared out over the landscape for a time, before turning back to Freyja. "The fighting? Yes, a little. The killing, no. The people, all the time." She paused for a moment, as if remembering. "Relish all the time you have with your comrades. If you're lucky, you won't outlive them. There's something about riding into battle in a mech with people you trust and care about, that you'll never get back once it passes. You'll be the first one in your family that I never fought beside, you know."
"And which of them was the best?"
The older woman shook her head with a gentle smile. "That's not something you ever think about. It's like a person ranking which children they love the most, or which of their lovers were the best. It's just best not done. They were all great. Great women, and great mechwarriors. Of all of them, you look most like Faith. But heavens knows, you haven't got a tenth of her impatience or temper. If you did, you wouldn't be standing here pondering on such things, you would be burning hard for the jump point now to get to the fight as fast as you can."
"So you're saying I should be more impatient and angry? Now that's a hell of a thing to say to a girl," she chuckled.
Cat put her hand gently on Freyja's shoulder. "Never be anything but what you are. It served all of them well, and it will serve you too. Faith and I, we fought in a very different time."
That much was very true. Faith, her great-grandmother, had been the first in her family to become a mechwarrior. She had seen the coming of the Clans, fought in the fires of the Jihad, and witnessed the birth of the Republic of the Sphere. All of those things were parts of the world that Freyja took for granted.
One thing that remained the same, however, was the omnipresent threat of House Davion. Soon enough, Freyja would be meeting up with an assault force that would be hitting the DavRats hard.
"Well, I have a date with the Tau Ceti Lancers, and like it or not, they won't wait up for me."
The two shared a long embrace. "Take care of yourself, Freyja."
Sunday, April 5, 2015
The River Crow
Kufstein
Clan Wolf Occupation Zone
5 April, 3050
The cold water from the river jolted Faith back to alertness as she splashed it over her face. She took out her pony tail and ran her wet hands through her hair several times, more so for the sensation than for any illusion that she was somehow going to wash out the last 2 days worth of cockpit sweat. She no doubt smelled horrible by now, they all did, but standing on the banks of the River Crow, any human odors were drowned out by the surroundings.
Techs were already crawling over her battered Battlemaster, working to make what repairs they could during the lull in fighting. The smell of battle was still everywhere, the myriad blended smells of mech coolant, propellant, explosives, and more kinds of burning material than probably anyone could name. A few months ago, this spot would have been pristine, no doubt filled with the scents and sounds of nature, such as it was on this world, at least, and under the bright glowing moon that hung in the sky tonight, it might even have been a picturesque sight. But not today. Now it was the scene of battle, or more accurately, of countless battles. Control of the planet had gone back and forth nearly half a dozen times since the invaders had come. For now the Wolves controlled it.
She chuckled to herself at the thought of the Wolves, set against the abnormally striking moon of this world, like some ancient Terran monster story. The combat would not start again for another 2 hours, the negotiations had seen to that. And while her experience with the Clanners was limited, the one thing it seemed to Faith that you could count on them for was to adhere to their word.
"Damned Wolves will be on the prowl soon enough." She glanced briefly over at the speaker, a Rasalhague mechwarrior that was part of her ad-hoc unit. She didn't know his name, nor did she want to. This fighting had been a meat grinder so far, the chaos starting even before they hit the ground. They had rallied together and given as good as they got, but there was still a long way to go before they could even dream of relaxing, much less of pushing the Wolves off this world. She would see countless warriors just like this guy come and go during the course of the fight, and getting to actually know them would just make things harder.
"Makes you think, doesn't it, though," she replied as she glanced across the slightly rippled water of the river, "in another set of circumstances, it could be you out there. A whole society, bred for war. Could be glorious, don't you think."
She didn't need to look at the space viking to see the disdain he displayed at her comment. "They're beasts, barbarians, and conquerors. Slip up for even a second out there and you can be a slave in that 'glorious' society." he said. She couldn't blame him. These Clans had eaten up most of the man's nation, maybe even his home planet. But that didn't change her sense of curiosity.
What if she had been born on that side of the battle line? How would she have measured up. Would she have even survived? Would she have thrived? She found herself thinking that there was something almost romantic about it, a warrior having ultimate and total control of their legacy, in their hands.
It struck her then that legacy was something she had never given much thought to. She fought to win, and because she was good at it. She fought for the feeling, for the rush. She lived that way too. She had never much bothered to put her battles into any grander perspective. She had never really thought about having children either, it was always something way down the road, as she lived for today. But those warriors across the way, they were fighting for today, but fighting for their legacy as well, for their story. And in a few hours, it would be her job to write the final chapter for a few of those stories.
Kufstein
Clan Wolf Occupation Zone
5 April, 3050
The cold water from the river jolted Faith back to alertness as she splashed it over her face. She took out her pony tail and ran her wet hands through her hair several times, more so for the sensation than for any illusion that she was somehow going to wash out the last 2 days worth of cockpit sweat. She no doubt smelled horrible by now, they all did, but standing on the banks of the River Crow, any human odors were drowned out by the surroundings.
Techs were already crawling over her battered Battlemaster, working to make what repairs they could during the lull in fighting. The smell of battle was still everywhere, the myriad blended smells of mech coolant, propellant, explosives, and more kinds of burning material than probably anyone could name. A few months ago, this spot would have been pristine, no doubt filled with the scents and sounds of nature, such as it was on this world, at least, and under the bright glowing moon that hung in the sky tonight, it might even have been a picturesque sight. But not today. Now it was the scene of battle, or more accurately, of countless battles. Control of the planet had gone back and forth nearly half a dozen times since the invaders had come. For now the Wolves controlled it.
She chuckled to herself at the thought of the Wolves, set against the abnormally striking moon of this world, like some ancient Terran monster story. The combat would not start again for another 2 hours, the negotiations had seen to that. And while her experience with the Clanners was limited, the one thing it seemed to Faith that you could count on them for was to adhere to their word.
"Damned Wolves will be on the prowl soon enough." She glanced briefly over at the speaker, a Rasalhague mechwarrior that was part of her ad-hoc unit. She didn't know his name, nor did she want to. This fighting had been a meat grinder so far, the chaos starting even before they hit the ground. They had rallied together and given as good as they got, but there was still a long way to go before they could even dream of relaxing, much less of pushing the Wolves off this world. She would see countless warriors just like this guy come and go during the course of the fight, and getting to actually know them would just make things harder.
"Makes you think, doesn't it, though," she replied as she glanced across the slightly rippled water of the river, "in another set of circumstances, it could be you out there. A whole society, bred for war. Could be glorious, don't you think."
She didn't need to look at the space viking to see the disdain he displayed at her comment. "They're beasts, barbarians, and conquerors. Slip up for even a second out there and you can be a slave in that 'glorious' society." he said. She couldn't blame him. These Clans had eaten up most of the man's nation, maybe even his home planet. But that didn't change her sense of curiosity.
What if she had been born on that side of the battle line? How would she have measured up. Would she have even survived? Would she have thrived? She found herself thinking that there was something almost romantic about it, a warrior having ultimate and total control of their legacy, in their hands.
It struck her then that legacy was something she had never given much thought to. She fought to win, and because she was good at it. She fought for the feeling, for the rush. She lived that way too. She had never much bothered to put her battles into any grander perspective. She had never really thought about having children either, it was always something way down the road, as she lived for today. But those warriors across the way, they were fighting for today, but fighting for their legacy as well, for their story. And in a few hours, it would be her job to write the final chapter for a few of those stories.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Bacum City
Bacum
Capellan Confederation
4 April, 3050
The first thing Faith was aware of was a distant buzzing sound. It wasn't constant, but intermittent, like a fly or a bee intent on annoying her and robbing her of sleep. Did being passed out count as "sleep"? If the doctor asked, she decided that it would. For now, she wanted more of it. The buzzing grew louder and louder over time, until finally it seemed almost deafening in her ears.
Her eyes snapped open for a second, and she instantly regretted it. Accompanying the morning light, or maybe it was afternoon light, she didn't know, was a massive headache, as if the light itself were a dagger being plunged into her forehead.
"Gah! Go away! Switch off!" The noise did not respond to her commands as she screwed her eyes shut again to keep out the painful light. The only effect of her protests was to make her aware of how annoyingly dry her mouth was.
She blindly reached out an arm, flailing about until she found the nightstand, and then her comm unit, and smacked it several times, more violently that it deserved. The buzzing sound still did not stop. She opened her eyes slowly, hoping to stave off the pain that accompanied the light. It didn't work. After several excruciating moments, she picked up her comm unit and stared at the screen blankly for a few seconds.
"MISSED MESSAGES FROM: ORKDUNG, COL., KALLER, LTC., VANDRIL, MAJ." The buzzing continued. By now it was so loud that she was half tempted to wrap a sheet over her head to try to muffle the noise. Then, for whatever reason, it dawned on her that it was not her comm that was buzzing.
She sprang out of bed, but her foot landed on something awkwardly and sent her spawling awkwardly onto the floor. "Shit! I'm coming, I'm coming! Just stop making that noise!" She stood up a little more slowly and gingerly regained her balance. Her eyes cast about the floor, searching for wherever her drunken self had decided to toss her clothes the previous night. Then the buzzing started again. "Oh for god's sake. I'm coming asshole, just be quiet!"
Still mildly confused, she gave up and grabbed a handful of the bed sheet and yanked on it, then wrapped it around herself and shuffled toward the door as quickly as she was confidant that she could without taking another spill onto the floor. She made her way to the door, and yanked it open to find the three 4TCR command staff standing at her doorstep.
"This better be good"...
Bacum
Capellan Confederation
4 April, 3050
The first thing Faith was aware of was a distant buzzing sound. It wasn't constant, but intermittent, like a fly or a bee intent on annoying her and robbing her of sleep. Did being passed out count as "sleep"? If the doctor asked, she decided that it would. For now, she wanted more of it. The buzzing grew louder and louder over time, until finally it seemed almost deafening in her ears.
Her eyes snapped open for a second, and she instantly regretted it. Accompanying the morning light, or maybe it was afternoon light, she didn't know, was a massive headache, as if the light itself were a dagger being plunged into her forehead.
"Gah! Go away! Switch off!" The noise did not respond to her commands as she screwed her eyes shut again to keep out the painful light. The only effect of her protests was to make her aware of how annoyingly dry her mouth was.
She blindly reached out an arm, flailing about until she found the nightstand, and then her comm unit, and smacked it several times, more violently that it deserved. The buzzing sound still did not stop. She opened her eyes slowly, hoping to stave off the pain that accompanied the light. It didn't work. After several excruciating moments, she picked up her comm unit and stared at the screen blankly for a few seconds.
"MISSED MESSAGES FROM: ORKDUNG, COL., KALLER, LTC., VANDRIL, MAJ." The buzzing continued. By now it was so loud that she was half tempted to wrap a sheet over her head to try to muffle the noise. Then, for whatever reason, it dawned on her that it was not her comm that was buzzing.
She sprang out of bed, but her foot landed on something awkwardly and sent her spawling awkwardly onto the floor. "Shit! I'm coming, I'm coming! Just stop making that noise!" She stood up a little more slowly and gingerly regained her balance. Her eyes cast about the floor, searching for wherever her drunken self had decided to toss her clothes the previous night. Then the buzzing started again. "Oh for god's sake. I'm coming asshole, just be quiet!"
Still mildly confused, she gave up and grabbed a handful of the bed sheet and yanked on it, then wrapped it around herself and shuffled toward the door as quickly as she was confidant that she could without taking another spill onto the floor. She made her way to the door, and yanked it open to find the three 4TCR command staff standing at her doorstep.
"This better be good"...
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