Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050
Fiona pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, her hair still damp with moisture from the cockpit. She took a breath, readied herself, and walked through the door of what had once been some kind of office or meeting room at the abandoned quarry that was serving as an ad hoc rally point for whatever resistance forces remained on the surface of Anywhere.
A host of people sat and stood around the elongated table. A few of the faces she vaguely remembered from her regiment. Most were unfamiliar, clad in a motley assortment of uniforms, but bearing the insignia of the Anywhere Militia. A few glanced in her direction, but most spoke among themselves.
At the head of the table sat two men, both wearing militia uniforms and the rank insignia marking them as Hauptmanns, presumably the highest ranking officers left on the planet. One leaned back in his chair. He could best be described as non-descript. Probably in his late thirties, he was of average height and build, had hair halfway between brown and blonde, and could probably disappear into any crowd, anywhere. The other man looked like something out of a holovid. He was probably in his fifties, his dark hair thoroughly mixed through with grey. He sat leaning on the arm of his chair, chewing on a smoldering stub of a cigar, and wore a cowboy hat.
On noticing her, Cigar Man took the nub of the cigar from his mouth and gestured in her direction. "Everyone, this here is Leftenant Kendrick. Near as we can tell, she's the ranking officer left on the planet from the Second New Ivaarsen that didn't turn tail and run."
Her eyes darted around the room, taking in a mixture of sneers and looks of disinterest. "Strictly speaking, sir, that's not true. There's a combat surgeon in the MASH unit I escorted in, he carries the rank of Kommandant."
Cigar chuckled. "Yeah, well I ain't takin' my order from a doctor, so for all intents and purposes, what I said stands. I'm Hauptmann Clay, this here is Hauptmann Hallick. We're glad to have your people on board. It's going to be a long slog trying to get these Falcons off our planet, we'll take any help we can get. We've just been taking store here, it will be a few days before we can start getting off any real raids. We're pretty short on supplies, so we'll have to hit one of the bigger supply dumps before these clanners can get their paws on them."
She paused a moment before speaking up. "Begging the Hauptmann's pardon, but we should get moving as fast as we can. Grab supplies before the Jade Falcons can get settled in. These guys are big on single combat, that gives us a chance to hit them in multiple places."
Clay raised an eyebrow. "No offense missy, but are you crazy? These guys, whoever the hell they are, they're tough as nails. We have to gang up, hit 'em fast and hard where it counts. You want to split up?"
"They're over the top on these duels, even more so than the snakes. They'll fight prize fights, 'trials of possesion' they seemed to call it. You fight them one-on-one over a prize and beat them, they'll just let you walk away with the prize. We can use that. Hit multiple supply dumps in multiple trials. We launch six attacks, even if we only win half of them, we've won three whole supply dumps."
The Hauptmann stood up. "Girl, I've seen people fighting honor duels before. I've been fighting the dracs since you were in nappies. I'm telling you, fighting on their terms isn't the way to go. They like duels, you use that to your advantage by making it a junkyard fight."
Fiona shook her head. "With all due respect sir, if I'd fought that way, we wouldn't be here right now. I only got my people out because I won the right to escape in a duel."
Clay stabbed a finger in her direction. "That's all well and good. Just because you got lucky, doesn't mean you're the next incarnation of General Kerensky."
"I didn't get lucky, sir. I was just better than them. We all can be."
Clay shook his head, "Enough, Leftenant. This is our world, and our fight. You're welcome to help out, but you'll follow orders and do it our way. Understood?"
She gritted her teeth. "Yes Hauptmann, understood."
He smiled and put the cigar back in his mouth. "Good. Now, take a few days to get your people repaired and rested. We'll all meet up for a strategy session in a few days."
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Monday, December 23, 2019
Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050
"I am Mechwarrior Greer of the 8th Falcon Regulars. I pilot the Kit Fox that stands before our lines. I have won the bidding for the right to seize your rabble of a force in a trial of possession. Do not flee like the cowards we have seen so far, and I promise you a quick death in battle that will fulfill your obligations as a warrior. Our trial will commence as soon as you signal your readiness."
Fiona's palms were already sweating, only the fingerless gloves she wore kept her grip on the control sticks secure. She glanced down at her targeting monitor, which still struggled hopelessly to identify the enemy mech, whose pilot had referred to it as a Kit Fox. Sensors pegged it at about thirty tons. It's one arm ended in a barrel of some sort, which at that weight class must be a very small bore autocannon. Other than that, she was blind to its capabilities. At the very least, she outmassed it in her Wyvern.
She raised her mechs arm in a salute. "I stand ready to fight you, Greer. I assure you, you're in for a surprise."
With that, she kicked her mech up into a flank speed run. She didn't know what that little mech could do, but there had been reports of the enemy mechs having very long ranges. She wasnt going to risk it. Get in close, hit hard and fast, and put her weight advantage to good use.
The enemy mech advanced toward her, though not at what looked like a run. She was pondering triggering her jump jets to launch herself into range for her LRM rack, when suddenly a silvery flash twinkled into her vision just before a tremendous force smashed into her mechs torso. The impact of whatever the shell was nearly spun her around, having not been braced for the shot.
What the hell was that? I cant even get a lock on him with my LRMs, and he's hitting me with a cannon that hits at the range of a light AC but punches like the big cannon on a Hunchback.
She waited a few seconds, then triggered her jump jets, just in time to see another of the silver cannonball fly beneath her. She rode her jets to their maximum height and readied herself for landing. As soon as she hit the ground she flexed her Wyverns knees to absorb the landing. As soon as she was under control, she jerked to the right hard, avoiding yet another shot from the enemy cannon, although just narrowly. A sharp crack pierced the air after the supersonic slug passed her.
Greer was being free with his shots, seemingly firing as soon as his cannon recharged. She only had a handful of seconds between volleys, and she knew that her mech was not going to take many hits from whatever that gun was.
She didn't yet have a hard lock on the enemy mech for her missiles, but nonetheless she triggered a salvo that sent ten missiles streaking towards the small enemy mech. They impacted a short distance in front of him, but it must have been enough to throw off his aim, as his next shot drilled into the ground in front of her.
Another burst of her jump jets brought her to within range for her heavy laser. She crouched on landing, and snapped off a shot from the large laser. The beam scored a hit, scoring armor from the small mechs leg.
The enemy reply came in the form of yet another shot from his cannon, which struck her shoulder, but luckily at a glancing angle, lessening the damage. Two medium laser also clawed at her mech, one hitting her arm, and the other a leg.
She glanced down at her damage readout. Shit. Those medium lasers hit almost as hard as my heavy laser.
It was now clear that range wasnt going to be her friend. She continued her strategy of trying to get close. If she could bring her heavier weight and all of her firepower to bear, she might stand a chance.
Her heat was beginning to spike, and she knew with the strain she would soon be putting on her heat sinks, she dared not risk another jump just yet. Instead, she stood and charged yet again, her mental clock ticking the seconds by until she expected another volley from her foe, and just before she felt it would come, she juked her mech, this time to the left.
The enemy pilot had anticipated her move, but not the direction. A silver slug, followed by two lancing laser beams blasted wide of her as she realigned her charge on the enemy light mech. She pulled the trigger on her large laser, which scored yet another hit on the squat Jade Falcon mech. As the beam finished it's work on the Kit Fox's torso, a target lock tone sounded in her helmet, and instinctively she triggered a blast from her LRM's. Soon she would be inside their range, and they made this volley count, eight of the missiles pounding across her foe.
This time, his reply was true, his cannon striking her Wyvern squarely in the chest, nearly stopping her momentum. The enemy lasers followed up, tearing two gashes in her torso armor. Even though she was trading shots with a light mech, she knew she was getting much harder than she was giving, and her protection was growing terrifyingly thin. She was praying that she would make it close enough to count before that protection began to fail.
She waited until she hit the outside range on her short range missiles. As she stepped within range, she pulled into a salvo from the six-pack, simultaneously with her Nightwind large laser, coring more armor from the small enemy mech. She didn't have time to watch her handiwork to check for internal damage, as she slammed her booted feet down on the thrust pedals, sending her mech soaring into the air, and a wave of heat smashing into her.
The enemy pilot was good, tracking her leap. While the cannon slug missed low, the two lasers cored precious armor from her right leg, slightly unbalancing her mech in the air. Coughing for oxygen in the stifling heat, she managed to right her trajectory and inject the spin that she desperately wanted to the jump. Her mech pirouetted in the air, and by the time she found herself over the clan mech, the two war machines facing's matched. A second more and her momentum carried her behind her opponent as she dropped to the ground.
She didn't even wait for a lock, roughly aligning her crosshairs and snapping off a shot from all her weapons except her LRMs. The large laser, along with the pair of small lasers she had yet to use cored into the thin rear armor of the enemy mech. The six pack of missiles peppered the rear torso further, opening rents in the armor.
She paid the price in heat. Her reactor struggled to meet the demand of the jump as well as the volley of weapons fire, and the raw heat dumped into her mech's innards was simply too much for her heat sinks to handle. She tried to inhale, but the incredible ambient heat seared her throat and lungs, the lack of oxygen pulling at her consciousness. She no longer felt sweat running down her exposed flesh, and as her head bobbed down for a moment, she imagined she could almost see the few meager drops of moisture evaporating off her leggings.
She willed herself to retain consciousness, pulling her head back and slamming forward on the control sticks by instinct. Only muscle memory allowed her to complete the maneuver she had envisioned at the start of this particular attack. Her mech took two stumbling steps forward, then she drove her fist into the back of her shocked enemy, punching through the already savaged rear armor, her mech's right hand flexing open and then closed on some internals or another. She could almost feel the enemy mech die in her clutches as it went limp, then fell forward.
She had no idea how much time had passed. She had simply leaned back in her command chair and tried desperately to breathe. Finally she blinked herself back to awareness, an unfamiliar voice sounding in her ears.
"Leftenant Fiona....are you conscious?"
She shook her head, trying to shake off the fatigue weighing her down.
"Leftenant Fiona. Can you respond? This is Star Captain Terrence Mattlov."
She tried to steady her pulse and took a deep breath. "Yes, Star Captain. I am here, I hear you, and I am the victor."
She could hear an almost light tone to the Star Captain's voice. "Indeed, Leftenant, you won the trial, and your fight showed some skill. But do not gloat too openly, for your victory is a hollow one."
She furrowed her brow. "What do you mean? You better not renege on our deal, Star Captain, or I will have your hide myself."
"Relax, little Inner Sphere warrior. I will not violate the terms of our rede. You are the winner of the trial, and you shall have your prize. You, your lance, and those lesser forces that you protect may withdraw from the field of battle. But you cannot run far. As we speak, your cowardly comrades are lifting offworld. Look to the skies in front of you, and you can see them fleeing now like rats from a sinking ship. You are stranded here." She cut off his laughter with a slap of the comm switch, and tried desperately to fight back the tears as the clan forces withdrew, leaving her small band abandoned and alone.
The enemy pilot had anticipated her move, but not the direction. A silver slug, followed by two lancing laser beams blasted wide of her as she realigned her charge on the enemy light mech. She pulled the trigger on her large laser, which scored yet another hit on the squat Jade Falcon mech. As the beam finished it's work on the Kit Fox's torso, a target lock tone sounded in her helmet, and instinctively she triggered a blast from her LRM's. Soon she would be inside their range, and they made this volley count, eight of the missiles pounding across her foe.
This time, his reply was true, his cannon striking her Wyvern squarely in the chest, nearly stopping her momentum. The enemy lasers followed up, tearing two gashes in her torso armor. Even though she was trading shots with a light mech, she knew she was getting much harder than she was giving, and her protection was growing terrifyingly thin. She was praying that she would make it close enough to count before that protection began to fail.
She waited until she hit the outside range on her short range missiles. As she stepped within range, she pulled into a salvo from the six-pack, simultaneously with her Nightwind large laser, coring more armor from the small enemy mech. She didn't have time to watch her handiwork to check for internal damage, as she slammed her booted feet down on the thrust pedals, sending her mech soaring into the air, and a wave of heat smashing into her.
The enemy pilot was good, tracking her leap. While the cannon slug missed low, the two lasers cored precious armor from her right leg, slightly unbalancing her mech in the air. Coughing for oxygen in the stifling heat, she managed to right her trajectory and inject the spin that she desperately wanted to the jump. Her mech pirouetted in the air, and by the time she found herself over the clan mech, the two war machines facing's matched. A second more and her momentum carried her behind her opponent as she dropped to the ground.
She didn't even wait for a lock, roughly aligning her crosshairs and snapping off a shot from all her weapons except her LRMs. The large laser, along with the pair of small lasers she had yet to use cored into the thin rear armor of the enemy mech. The six pack of missiles peppered the rear torso further, opening rents in the armor.
She paid the price in heat. Her reactor struggled to meet the demand of the jump as well as the volley of weapons fire, and the raw heat dumped into her mech's innards was simply too much for her heat sinks to handle. She tried to inhale, but the incredible ambient heat seared her throat and lungs, the lack of oxygen pulling at her consciousness. She no longer felt sweat running down her exposed flesh, and as her head bobbed down for a moment, she imagined she could almost see the few meager drops of moisture evaporating off her leggings.
She willed herself to retain consciousness, pulling her head back and slamming forward on the control sticks by instinct. Only muscle memory allowed her to complete the maneuver she had envisioned at the start of this particular attack. Her mech took two stumbling steps forward, then she drove her fist into the back of her shocked enemy, punching through the already savaged rear armor, her mech's right hand flexing open and then closed on some internals or another. She could almost feel the enemy mech die in her clutches as it went limp, then fell forward.
She had no idea how much time had passed. She had simply leaned back in her command chair and tried desperately to breathe. Finally she blinked herself back to awareness, an unfamiliar voice sounding in her ears.
"Leftenant Fiona....are you conscious?"
She shook her head, trying to shake off the fatigue weighing her down.
"Leftenant Fiona. Can you respond? This is Star Captain Terrence Mattlov."
She tried to steady her pulse and took a deep breath. "Yes, Star Captain. I am here, I hear you, and I am the victor."
She could hear an almost light tone to the Star Captain's voice. "Indeed, Leftenant, you won the trial, and your fight showed some skill. But do not gloat too openly, for your victory is a hollow one."
She furrowed her brow. "What do you mean? You better not renege on our deal, Star Captain, or I will have your hide myself."
"Relax, little Inner Sphere warrior. I will not violate the terms of our rede. You are the winner of the trial, and you shall have your prize. You, your lance, and those lesser forces that you protect may withdraw from the field of battle. But you cannot run far. As we speak, your cowardly comrades are lifting offworld. Look to the skies in front of you, and you can see them fleeing now like rats from a sinking ship. You are stranded here." She cut off his laughter with a slap of the comm switch, and tried desperately to fight back the tears as the clan forces withdrew, leaving her small band abandoned and alone.
Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050
The pace was frenetic. As the smoke of combat, and the frantic mess of comm channels clouded her view of the actual picture of combat, Fiona could only try to make sense of the scattered and fragmented transmissions coming across her comm link. The RCT was in chaos. Disparate elements were shouting and clamoring for support across the net as the situation spun out of control.
These Jade Falcons were running roughshod over any and all opposition they faced. They were apparently honor driven like the samurai of the Draconis Combine, trying to coerce their opponents into single combat whenever and wherever they could.
"Leftenant, all our parent elements are pulling out. We have no direction, but should we follow?"
She slammed her fist against the console of her Wyvern."No, we are not going to bail out and leave this M*A*S*H truck to fend for itself. Our orders from Battalion and Regimental were to support these elements, and we are going to damn well hold the line and support these elements. "
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050
The pace was frenetic. As the smoke of combat, and the frantic mess of comm channels clouded her view of the actual picture of combat, Fiona could only try to make sense of the scattered and fragmented transmissions coming across her comm link. The RCT was in chaos. Disparate elements were shouting and clamoring for support across the net as the situation spun out of control.
These Jade Falcons were running roughshod over any and all opposition they faced. They were apparently honor driven like the samurai of the Draconis Combine, trying to coerce their opponents into single combat whenever and wherever they could.
"Leftenant, all our parent elements are pulling out. We have no direction, but should we follow?"
She slammed her fist against the console of her Wyvern."No, we are not going to bail out and leave this M*A*S*H truck to fend for itself. Our orders from Battalion and Regimental were to support these elements, and we are going to damn well hold the line and support these elements. "
"But leftenant, they'll chew us to bits. How do we hold with just a lance and a few infantry against the whole damn lot of them?" Markey asked.
The truth was she didn't know. She didn't have a clue. She looked down at her tactical display, the few friendly blue dots that appeared were painfully far away to the north, and rapidly moving off. To the south, more and more red dots were appearing. Her computer was struggling mightily to identify the enemy units, flipping madly back and forth between disparate designations and the all too common 'unknown battlemech' tag that was applied to many of them. Unknown attackers, unknown mechs, her support fleeing rapidly, and a truck full of wounded soldiers protected by a few dozen infantry relying on her somehow for protection.
She flipped her comm filter over to include general open frequencies, and bas bombarded immediately by a host of angry voices on various open channels. "Stravag! Stand and fight, freebirth cowards!", "By the founders, there is not a drop of warrior blood among any of your pathetic genetic legacies. Even bandits face their fate more honorably than you!"
The channels were filled with a chorus of such insults. But it was more than taunting. The challenges were filled with a genuine anger that the Fed-Com forces were now fleeing rather than fighting. The voices were strange, and definitely not from the Combine.
She was about to flip the filter back, her spirit sagging and her mind void of any idea that might offer hope. Then, in the angry cries of the enemy warriors, the spark of an idea flashed in her head.
She clicked her comms back over to her lance frequency. "Markey, rally the troops in a tight perimeter around the hospital truck. Get everyone ready to move out at a moment's notice, but dont move yet."
"Leftenant, are you nuts? We might barely get back to our lines if we run now. But if we hang around?" She could hear the fear in his voice. It was a gear she shared, possibly even more so. But she could not allow herself to surrender to it. The lives of the whole group were depending on her keeping her wits, her fighting skill, and some false bravado.
"I know what I'm doing, Markey. Follow orders. I'll get you out of this. All of you. Just trust me on this." Without waiting for a response, she flipped over to a general frequency.
"I am Leftenant Fiona Kendrick, of the Ivaarson Chasseurs. Though my comrades may flee, I do not fear you. I will stand and fight in single combat against any you care to offer. I ask only that we fight over a worthy prize. Reply if you dare."
With that, she closed her eyes and rested her head back. This would either pay off incredibly, or be the last and most foolish mistake she ever made.
There was nothing but silence for a few seconds, then a deep male voice came over the line.
"I am Star Captain Terrence Mattlov, Commander of Trinary Charlie, 8th Jade Falcon Regulars. Your batchall is crude, but understood. You wish a trial of possession, quiaff?"
"Call it whatever you want. I'm offering you a fight. Me against your champion."
"Even a challenge as weak as yours is a welcome sight on this pitiful rock. Over what do you wish to fight this trial?"
She took a deep breath. This was it. "My comrades are fleeing, and in doing my duty, protecting this mobile hospital, I find myself cut off from my parent command. When I am victorious, you will allow safe passage for me, my lance, the hospital truck, and its supporting forces."
The enemy commander laughed. "Bold words for someone who has yet to fire a shot against us Falcons. What is the prize when you are defeated by whatever token force is needed to put you down?"
"If I am sefeated, then I will be dead. But should this happen, my entire force will surrender to you, men and material alike."
There was a brief pause before Mattlov replied. "A pitiful prize, but we must take what we can get. Well bargained and done, Leftenant Fiona. My warriors will bid for the small honor of defeating you. The trial will commence in five minutes."
It was done. Now all she had to do was win.
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050
"Leftenant, why are we just sitting here? Our armor elements are getting cut to pieces somehow out there by these pirates.!"
Fiona took a deep breath before answering. "Can it, Markey. I don't know what's going on, I just know the general's plan seems to have hit a snag. But we can't go off half-cocked. Regimental will get it under control. Battalion says we'll be moving soon. I want a piece of these guys as much as you do."
Holding her lance back was hard. They all wanted a shot at these raiders. Somewhere along the line, the plan had gone wrong. While they might not be at the top of the battlefield pecking order, the tanks of the RCT were still a huge chunk of guns and armor. They should have been enough to hold these raiders in place. That they seemingly were unable to do so was worrying.
"Company, move up to grid 3-1-9. Looks like we've found trouble again, First and Second battalions are engaging the hostiles and we're to move up to support any breakthrough."
She keyed an acknowledgement of the order and kicked her Wyvern up into cruising speed, keeping her lance tight to her as the company moved up, hopefully into some action. They advanced at a solid pace, and what they found was not good.
Once they broke out of the woodlands into the gently rolling hills of the Brigham Rollo, they stumbled into the battlefield that had become a graveyard for the majority of their armor. In most cases, the hulks of the tanks were still burning. The medics had barely had time to start tending to the wounded, and rescue teams were still swarming over many of the destroyed vehicles.
The enemy had apparently smashed through the armor regiments and simply kept moving. They were now somewhere ahead, locked in combat with the other two Chasseurs battalions. But the level of destruction she saw formed a pit in her stomach. The armor regiments had been hurt, and hurt badly. There was more to this than a simple pirate raid.
"Company, apparently the boys in First Battalion are getting their hats handed to them, we're going to reinforce. Kendrick, your lance is to stay back and provide mech support to the protection detail. I guess these guys have some kind of super infantry or something, and the Kommandant wants to make sure the medics and recovery crews don't get caught without protection."
"Aye sir." She acknowledged the order as she slammed her fist against the console. Fate was doing everything possible to conspire to keep her out of the fight, it seemed. As the rest of her company moved off, she posted her lance at various intervals around the field of carnage. She knew the order made sense, her lance was mainly configured as an urban defense lance, relatively slow but packing significant firepower. This wasn't ideal ground for them to defend, but they were better suited to it than the rest of the company.
"Leftenant, what are we supposed to do here, twiddle our thumbs?" Always it was Markey with a wise crack.
"We have to watch the recovery teams. I've got you guys positioned, just keep your eyes open. I'm going to climb out of the cockpit and see how they're doing on the ground."
Ten minutes later, and she found herself on her knees, spewing her guts onto the ground outside of a M*A*S*H unit. Her heart was still pounding in her ears. The blood, guts, and general level of chaos had overcome her seconds into her visit to the mobile medical van. She had tried to steel herself and overcome it, but the physical sight of so many men and women torn apart and in agony had just overwhelmed her. She had managed to rush out of the door to the unit before the nausea overcame her and she fell to her knees.
She had just managed to control her breathing, overcoming the reflex to expel more, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Normally she would have tried to brush it off, but her spirit was sapped.
"It's ok, kid. Ain't a one of us who hasn't spilled our guts on the ground the first few times we saw a battlefield for real."
"I just....I don't know what I was trying to show myself." She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back out of her face to observe the person who had happened upon her. He was an infantryman, a sergeant from the looks of his uniform. "I told myself I wanted a feel for what was going on. Guess I got more than I bargained for."
The groundpounder looked towards the horizon for a moment. "Yeah, well I think that's par for the course today. I've seem my share of pirate raids, this isn't one of them."
"What do you mean?"
The sergeant shrugged. "These raiders, they're sharper than any pirate I've ever seen. Got these god awful big armored infantry too. Their mechs were tearing our guys apart from ranges they had no business shooting from, and that was bad enough, but I tell you, when those damn armored infantry ran through us....I've never seen anything like it. Not even spec ops shit. Hell, these guys might as well have been miniature mechs for all the good our small arms fire did against them. Took mech grade weapons to put any kind of hurt on them at all.
Fiona sat back against the stump of a tree. "So who do you think they are then? If they aren't pirates?"
"Some kind of super crazy Dracs if you ask me."
She shook her head to clear her mind and shake the nausea. "Can't be the Combine this far out. Why would you say that?"
"The open comm channels were clogged with challenges to one-on-one fights, honor duels, the kind of shit the Snakes eat up with their Bushido code. If you'd have heard it, they'd have all agreed to line up and fight a bunch of staged fights. Like it was all a big game. 'Course it ain't a game to all the boys they tore up when they swarmed all over our lines."
"We'll get a handle on it. Even if it's Combine raiders, we'll get things under control." She was already trying to recover from her stumble and steel herself for the conflict to come.
The sergeant smiled as he shook his head. "Ma'am, no disrespect to the rank or anything, but you're still wet behind the ears, aren't you?"
She cocked her head, sure she could deal with anything this presumptuous veteran gropo could deal out. "Sergeant, this might be my first official combat assignment, but I'm a damn good Mechwarrior, near top of my class at the Robinson Battle Academy, and I know what I'm doing. We will get this under control, do you hear me?"
The sergeant chuckled. "Leftenant, sir. I know this probably don't mean much, but I've got a few years of reading people. When you've seen as many people wear the uniform as I have, you pick up a thing or two. I can get a read on people. My family, we're 7th generation Lyran Commonwealth Armed forces, and damn near all of us have been groundpounders. I've got two girls in the service probably close enough to your age. And they're both groundpounders. Tough as nails and built like softball players. You, you're from a noble family I'd wager. You're built like a dancer. Ain't nothing against you, I'd wager you're a fine mech jockey. But I've got a finger a hell of a lot closer to the pulse of this shit than you, ma'am. This.....this is something big."
She wanted nothing more than to dispel the man of his notion, but she knew in that moment that she had no case at all. And it scared her.
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
4 March, 3050
"Leftenant, why are we just sitting here? Our armor elements are getting cut to pieces somehow out there by these pirates.!"
Fiona took a deep breath before answering. "Can it, Markey. I don't know what's going on, I just know the general's plan seems to have hit a snag. But we can't go off half-cocked. Regimental will get it under control. Battalion says we'll be moving soon. I want a piece of these guys as much as you do."
Holding her lance back was hard. They all wanted a shot at these raiders. Somewhere along the line, the plan had gone wrong. While they might not be at the top of the battlefield pecking order, the tanks of the RCT were still a huge chunk of guns and armor. They should have been enough to hold these raiders in place. That they seemingly were unable to do so was worrying.
"Company, move up to grid 3-1-9. Looks like we've found trouble again, First and Second battalions are engaging the hostiles and we're to move up to support any breakthrough."
She keyed an acknowledgement of the order and kicked her Wyvern up into cruising speed, keeping her lance tight to her as the company moved up, hopefully into some action. They advanced at a solid pace, and what they found was not good.
Once they broke out of the woodlands into the gently rolling hills of the Brigham Rollo, they stumbled into the battlefield that had become a graveyard for the majority of their armor. In most cases, the hulks of the tanks were still burning. The medics had barely had time to start tending to the wounded, and rescue teams were still swarming over many of the destroyed vehicles.
The enemy had apparently smashed through the armor regiments and simply kept moving. They were now somewhere ahead, locked in combat with the other two Chasseurs battalions. But the level of destruction she saw formed a pit in her stomach. The armor regiments had been hurt, and hurt badly. There was more to this than a simple pirate raid.
"Company, apparently the boys in First Battalion are getting their hats handed to them, we're going to reinforce. Kendrick, your lance is to stay back and provide mech support to the protection detail. I guess these guys have some kind of super infantry or something, and the Kommandant wants to make sure the medics and recovery crews don't get caught without protection."
"Aye sir." She acknowledged the order as she slammed her fist against the console. Fate was doing everything possible to conspire to keep her out of the fight, it seemed. As the rest of her company moved off, she posted her lance at various intervals around the field of carnage. She knew the order made sense, her lance was mainly configured as an urban defense lance, relatively slow but packing significant firepower. This wasn't ideal ground for them to defend, but they were better suited to it than the rest of the company.
"Leftenant, what are we supposed to do here, twiddle our thumbs?" Always it was Markey with a wise crack.
"We have to watch the recovery teams. I've got you guys positioned, just keep your eyes open. I'm going to climb out of the cockpit and see how they're doing on the ground."
Ten minutes later, and she found herself on her knees, spewing her guts onto the ground outside of a M*A*S*H unit. Her heart was still pounding in her ears. The blood, guts, and general level of chaos had overcome her seconds into her visit to the mobile medical van. She had tried to steel herself and overcome it, but the physical sight of so many men and women torn apart and in agony had just overwhelmed her. She had managed to rush out of the door to the unit before the nausea overcame her and she fell to her knees.
She had just managed to control her breathing, overcoming the reflex to expel more, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Normally she would have tried to brush it off, but her spirit was sapped.
"It's ok, kid. Ain't a one of us who hasn't spilled our guts on the ground the first few times we saw a battlefield for real."
"I just....I don't know what I was trying to show myself." She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back out of her face to observe the person who had happened upon her. He was an infantryman, a sergeant from the looks of his uniform. "I told myself I wanted a feel for what was going on. Guess I got more than I bargained for."
The groundpounder looked towards the horizon for a moment. "Yeah, well I think that's par for the course today. I've seem my share of pirate raids, this isn't one of them."
"What do you mean?"
The sergeant shrugged. "These raiders, they're sharper than any pirate I've ever seen. Got these god awful big armored infantry too. Their mechs were tearing our guys apart from ranges they had no business shooting from, and that was bad enough, but I tell you, when those damn armored infantry ran through us....I've never seen anything like it. Not even spec ops shit. Hell, these guys might as well have been miniature mechs for all the good our small arms fire did against them. Took mech grade weapons to put any kind of hurt on them at all.
Fiona sat back against the stump of a tree. "So who do you think they are then? If they aren't pirates?"
"Some kind of super crazy Dracs if you ask me."
She shook her head to clear her mind and shake the nausea. "Can't be the Combine this far out. Why would you say that?"
"The open comm channels were clogged with challenges to one-on-one fights, honor duels, the kind of shit the Snakes eat up with their Bushido code. If you'd have heard it, they'd have all agreed to line up and fight a bunch of staged fights. Like it was all a big game. 'Course it ain't a game to all the boys they tore up when they swarmed all over our lines."
"We'll get a handle on it. Even if it's Combine raiders, we'll get things under control." She was already trying to recover from her stumble and steel herself for the conflict to come.
The sergeant smiled as he shook his head. "Ma'am, no disrespect to the rank or anything, but you're still wet behind the ears, aren't you?"
She cocked her head, sure she could deal with anything this presumptuous veteran gropo could deal out. "Sergeant, this might be my first official combat assignment, but I'm a damn good Mechwarrior, near top of my class at the Robinson Battle Academy, and I know what I'm doing. We will get this under control, do you hear me?"
The sergeant chuckled. "Leftenant, sir. I know this probably don't mean much, but I've got a few years of reading people. When you've seen as many people wear the uniform as I have, you pick up a thing or two. I can get a read on people. My family, we're 7th generation Lyran Commonwealth Armed forces, and damn near all of us have been groundpounders. I've got two girls in the service probably close enough to your age. And they're both groundpounders. Tough as nails and built like softball players. You, you're from a noble family I'd wager. You're built like a dancer. Ain't nothing against you, I'd wager you're a fine mech jockey. But I've got a finger a hell of a lot closer to the pulse of this shit than you, ma'am. This.....this is something big."
She wanted nothing more than to dispel the man of his notion, but she knew in that moment that she had no case at all. And it scared her.
Saturday, October 5, 2019
Anywhere
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
3 March, 3050
Leftenant Fiona Kendrick took a long drag on the cigarette, instantly regretting it as she fought back a cough. Cheap cigarettes tasted like dirt, but what could you expect when you were stationed on the ass-end of the Federated Commonwealth.
Shit. Might as well be stationed in the Periphery for all the civilization there is on this rock. Ducal troops my ass.
Fiona had, along with the rest of the 2nd New Ivaarsen Chasseurs, just been posted to Anywhere. She was only a year out of the Robinson Battle Academy, and already her dreams of a glorious military career were being severely dashed. Okay, so maybe her family were only minor nobles, but it had been enough to secure her a spot in the Robinson Battle Academy class of '49. That, along with her posting to the 2nd Chasseurs, had been enough to fill her head with many a notion of glory in battle fighting the hated Draconis Combine. She might not be the most martial type on the surface, but she had grown up reading the histories of great battles against the Federated Suns' enemies, and had a vivid enough imagination to picture herself playing a part in future glories.
Then she and her unit had been posted to Anywhere. At least the place was aptly named. No, she corrected herself, it should be named Nowhere, bland as it was. And far enough removed from the border with the Combine that the prospect of any action against the snakes was reduced to about zero. Maybe they would fight pirates, if, and only if, the brass decided to get aggressive and raid into the bandit kingdoms like the Greater Valkyrate. And really, what kind of a challenge would that be?
She was only maybe two thirds done with the cheap cigarette, but she had made it through her RBA years smoking high end e-cigs, and damned if she was going to finish this one. She flicked it away in disgust, watching the embers jump and dance as they impacted against a rock. As she stood, she adjusted her sunglasses slightly, and ran a hand through her dark brown hair as she noticed her lance Sergeant heading towards her, his hand held up against the comm set plugged into his right ear.
"Hey Leftenant, Regimental is on the horn, says they're canning all our exercises out here in the outback. Raiders burning in fast and the General wants everyone back at the barn ASAP. Maybe this ain't going to be so boring a post after all."
She sighed. "Markey, even if it is pirates burning in, they're facing a whole goddamn RCT. The odds of us getting in on the fun are probably just about shit over infinity. I mean what can pirates hit this place with? A company? Maybe two or three if they hired mercs? Nah, we won't get that lucky. We'll get stuck babysitting something, I'll bet."
...5 hours later...
The air in the room that served as the RCT's command center was stuffy, but that paled in comparison to the almost palpable anticipation that flooded the room. As a lance commander, technically she shouldn't even be in the room, but she'd flirted with a few guys at the Battalion level, enough to get at least two of them into a pissing contest that resulted in her getting let into the room as a way to show their influence. Silly boys had their uses, she guessed..
At the moment, attention was focused on the holo-image, which currently displayed a placeholder text and something about connecting. Everyone was still waiting on the uplink. For some reason, these pirates were trying to set up a comlink with local defenders. It made zero sense, but who knows, maybe some pirate had delusions of grandeur.
The chatter subsided as Leftenant General Greensville walked in with his command lance.
"Alright people, this is unusal, but the unknown dropships burning in-system have asked for some kind of parlay. We don't know what all they're up to, but I aim to listen to them and find out. Once we figure out what these clowns are up to, we'll make our plans accordingly."
After a few minutes of subdued chatter, the holo-link came to life, displaying the image of a relatively young man who looked beyond full of himself.
"I am Star Colonel Brikai Buhallin, commander of the Eighth Falcon Regulars, warriors of Clan Jade Falcon. We have come to lay claim to this planet in the name of Clan Jade Falcon. What forces are foolish enough to defy us in this claim?"
Everyone in the room looked around at each other. This was beyond strange. Nobody had ever heard of this pirate group calling themselves Clan Jade Falcon. And clearly nobody had ever heard of a pirate band being so boastful as to announce themselves in a way like this self-declared Star Colonel just had. The General straightened his jacket and stepped into frame.
"I've never heard of your band of pirates before, but this is a planet of the Federated Commonwealth. I don't care if you're here to claim it, raid it, or whatever, but I have an entire FedCom RCT here on planet, plus the planetary militia. You're not welcome on this world. Turn yourselves around and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.
The man on the other end of the signal bristled at the General's words. "We are elite warriors of Clan Jade Falcon. Who dares insult us by declaring us pirates? We are no mere rabble, but an elite Cluster of warriors who will exact a steep price for your insolence. Do you bid your entire force in the defense of this world?"
The General looked confused. "Bid? Whatever you want to call it, yes, I'm Leftenant General Jacob Greensville, commander of the 2nd New Ivaarsen Chasseurs RCT, and I'll use everything I've got to kick your pompous ass out of this system."
"Well bargained and done. I will transmit the landing coordinates of my forces. May the battle be glorious and honorable."
The screen winked into blackness. The general turned to the room.
"Alright, I don't know who these Jade Falcons think they are, but we're gonna teach them a lesson. They're burning in with a shit-ton of dropships, but if they're pirates, I'll wager a big chunk of them are to haul off loot. I don't know what in the hell a 'cluster' of forces is, but we've got a mean-ass RCT that's gonna teach them a lesson. They've transmitted landing coordinates, and if they actually stick to them, it mean's we'll probably hit them in the Brigham Rollo. It's pretty open there, so we should be able to pin them with our conventional elements and kick their asses back with our mech forces. Their ETA for landing is about 12 hours from now. We're only a couple hours away from their LZ, so get 3 or 4 hours rack time if you can with your people, then saddle up."
Tamar March
Federated Commonwealth
3 March, 3050
Leftenant Fiona Kendrick took a long drag on the cigarette, instantly regretting it as she fought back a cough. Cheap cigarettes tasted like dirt, but what could you expect when you were stationed on the ass-end of the Federated Commonwealth.
Shit. Might as well be stationed in the Periphery for all the civilization there is on this rock. Ducal troops my ass.
Fiona had, along with the rest of the 2nd New Ivaarsen Chasseurs, just been posted to Anywhere. She was only a year out of the Robinson Battle Academy, and already her dreams of a glorious military career were being severely dashed. Okay, so maybe her family were only minor nobles, but it had been enough to secure her a spot in the Robinson Battle Academy class of '49. That, along with her posting to the 2nd Chasseurs, had been enough to fill her head with many a notion of glory in battle fighting the hated Draconis Combine. She might not be the most martial type on the surface, but she had grown up reading the histories of great battles against the Federated Suns' enemies, and had a vivid enough imagination to picture herself playing a part in future glories.
Then she and her unit had been posted to Anywhere. At least the place was aptly named. No, she corrected herself, it should be named Nowhere, bland as it was. And far enough removed from the border with the Combine that the prospect of any action against the snakes was reduced to about zero. Maybe they would fight pirates, if, and only if, the brass decided to get aggressive and raid into the bandit kingdoms like the Greater Valkyrate. And really, what kind of a challenge would that be?
She was only maybe two thirds done with the cheap cigarette, but she had made it through her RBA years smoking high end e-cigs, and damned if she was going to finish this one. She flicked it away in disgust, watching the embers jump and dance as they impacted against a rock. As she stood, she adjusted her sunglasses slightly, and ran a hand through her dark brown hair as she noticed her lance Sergeant heading towards her, his hand held up against the comm set plugged into his right ear.
"Hey Leftenant, Regimental is on the horn, says they're canning all our exercises out here in the outback. Raiders burning in fast and the General wants everyone back at the barn ASAP. Maybe this ain't going to be so boring a post after all."
She sighed. "Markey, even if it is pirates burning in, they're facing a whole goddamn RCT. The odds of us getting in on the fun are probably just about shit over infinity. I mean what can pirates hit this place with? A company? Maybe two or three if they hired mercs? Nah, we won't get that lucky. We'll get stuck babysitting something, I'll bet."
...5 hours later...
The air in the room that served as the RCT's command center was stuffy, but that paled in comparison to the almost palpable anticipation that flooded the room. As a lance commander, technically she shouldn't even be in the room, but she'd flirted with a few guys at the Battalion level, enough to get at least two of them into a pissing contest that resulted in her getting let into the room as a way to show their influence. Silly boys had their uses, she guessed..
At the moment, attention was focused on the holo-image, which currently displayed a placeholder text and something about connecting. Everyone was still waiting on the uplink. For some reason, these pirates were trying to set up a comlink with local defenders. It made zero sense, but who knows, maybe some pirate had delusions of grandeur.
The chatter subsided as Leftenant General Greensville walked in with his command lance.
"Alright people, this is unusal, but the unknown dropships burning in-system have asked for some kind of parlay. We don't know what all they're up to, but I aim to listen to them and find out. Once we figure out what these clowns are up to, we'll make our plans accordingly."
After a few minutes of subdued chatter, the holo-link came to life, displaying the image of a relatively young man who looked beyond full of himself.
"I am Star Colonel Brikai Buhallin, commander of the Eighth Falcon Regulars, warriors of Clan Jade Falcon. We have come to lay claim to this planet in the name of Clan Jade Falcon. What forces are foolish enough to defy us in this claim?"
Everyone in the room looked around at each other. This was beyond strange. Nobody had ever heard of this pirate group calling themselves Clan Jade Falcon. And clearly nobody had ever heard of a pirate band being so boastful as to announce themselves in a way like this self-declared Star Colonel just had. The General straightened his jacket and stepped into frame.
"I've never heard of your band of pirates before, but this is a planet of the Federated Commonwealth. I don't care if you're here to claim it, raid it, or whatever, but I have an entire FedCom RCT here on planet, plus the planetary militia. You're not welcome on this world. Turn yourselves around and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.
The man on the other end of the signal bristled at the General's words. "We are elite warriors of Clan Jade Falcon. Who dares insult us by declaring us pirates? We are no mere rabble, but an elite Cluster of warriors who will exact a steep price for your insolence. Do you bid your entire force in the defense of this world?"
The General looked confused. "Bid? Whatever you want to call it, yes, I'm Leftenant General Jacob Greensville, commander of the 2nd New Ivaarsen Chasseurs RCT, and I'll use everything I've got to kick your pompous ass out of this system."
"Well bargained and done. I will transmit the landing coordinates of my forces. May the battle be glorious and honorable."
The screen winked into blackness. The general turned to the room.
"Alright, I don't know who these Jade Falcons think they are, but we're gonna teach them a lesson. They're burning in with a shit-ton of dropships, but if they're pirates, I'll wager a big chunk of them are to haul off loot. I don't know what in the hell a 'cluster' of forces is, but we've got a mean-ass RCT that's gonna teach them a lesson. They've transmitted landing coordinates, and if they actually stick to them, it mean's we'll probably hit them in the Brigham Rollo. It's pretty open there, so we should be able to pin them with our conventional elements and kick their asses back with our mech forces. Their ETA for landing is about 12 hours from now. We're only a couple hours away from their LZ, so get 3 or 4 hours rack time if you can with your people, then saddle up."
Saturday, April 27, 2019
The Sisters of Sarna - Chapter 3
Sarna
Sarna Commonality
Capellan Confederation
The farmers, militia, or whoever they were had grown tired of Azalea's protests, and in addition to binding the sisters hands, they fashioned makeshift gags out of bandannas to ensure a peaceful trip as they pushed the two girls into the back of a ramshackle truck. Hope looked over at her sister, taking note of the bruise beginning to form on her jaw.
It had all happened so fast. One minute they were elated, having found civilization. Their ordeal should have been over. Except that it wasn't. Those who should have been their saviors had treated them with confusing disdain. Rather than be accepted as Capellan soldiers, they were instead taken for Davion spies. None of that added up. Sarna was not under Davion threat. If anything, it was House Davion that feared the Capellan military these days. Sarna was well behind the front lines.
And then there was the way that the men had reacted to learning their names. These girls were used to their names opening doors for them, not closing them. Things simply didn't add up. They rode on in their enforced silence for what seemed like hours. She lost count of the number of times she cramped up in the uncomfortable seating in the back of the truck as they rumbled over poorly maintained roads, hitting bumps and rocks, more than once tossing one of the sisters to the floor. Two armed men rode in the back with them, but they never spoke, only occasionally moving to light a cigarette or to toss a spent one from the back of the vehicle.
Finally, they came to a stop. She could faintly hear voices coming from the cabin of the truck, but she could not make out any of what was said. After a few moments, the rear hatch swung open, and the leader of the group from before motioned to the two guards, who in turn roughly ushered the two women from the back of the truck and to their feet. Their hands were still bound in front of them, and they were led to a gate that was obviously a checkpoint of some kind for a large compound that lay sprawled ahead of them.
Custody was clearly transferred when they reached the gate, and two uniformed infantry troopers took them by the arm and led them through the gate. Hope noted the patch on the troopers uniforms, a helmeted knight with two clenched fists. Still gagged, she grunted to Azalea and motioned to the patch. Her sister gave her a confused look.
That's the insignia of McCarron's Armored Cavalry. But none of the MAC units are stationed anywhere near Sarna, so what is going on here?
They were marched unceremoniously past several buildings in what was a huge, if temporarily erected compound. It was a pop-up compound like had served many a house and mercenary unit throughout the history of the conflicts of the Inner Sphere. Hell, it was something like what Hope had expected to find herself in when they reached their assignment with the MAC on the front lines. They were led to a building which seemed to double as storage and a makeshift brig. The first two cells were occupied by what looked like passed out infantrymen or tankers, one of which had recently spread the contents of his stomach, suitably soaked in some cheap alcohol, all over the floor.
Hope and Azalea each were shoved into their own cell, and their gag and wrist bindings removed. They were roughly and thoroughly searched by the two troopers, their pockets emptied and their overshirts removed, leaving them in only their now sweat soaked tank tops.
"You should have seen our identification by now. You know we're CCAF soldiers, same as you. What's going on?" Azalea demanded.
The young corporal, who spoke with a distinct Chesterton accent, seemed unimpressed. "That's all above my pay grade ma'am. Locals brought you in with fake papers on suspicion of being spies for the Federated Suns. Somebody will be down to sort you out when they get a chance. Till then, sit tight."
Their cell doors slammed shut. As soon as the guards had taken a few steps away, the sisters turned to each other. Azalea spoke up first. "What the hell is going on, and what were you trying to tell me earlier?"
Hope looked around nervously before speaking. "This is all wrong. I mean like everything is wrong. These guys are McCarron's Armored Cavalry. But we're on Sarna, they shouldn't be anywhere near Sarna. And those locals? Yeah, I know we're a couple of spoiled brats, but we shouldn't stick out that bad. I mean, we lived here for four years for fucks sake."
Hope stood still, but Azalea paced the tight confines of her cell like a caged animal. "What could have gone wrong in the time we were out of it that has them on edge like this?"
Hope rattled on the bars of the cell. "Zee, you're not listening to me. This is like major league wrong. Ok, we misjumped, but we couldn't have been out of things for more than a few days till the time of the crash. There's no way that the planet would be under threat of Davion attack and have the MAC back here to meet it in that amount of time."
Azalea stopped and faced her sister. "So what are you saying is going on? You're the smart one here, remember?"
Hope looked up at the ceiling of the cell. "I'm saying that I don't know, Zee. I don't know and it scares the shit out of me."
Azalea walked over and grabbed her sister's hands through the bars of the cell. "Listen. I don't know what fucked up shit we've gotten ourselves into, but we'll get through it. We always do. Whatever we landed in, we landed in it together. And I know one thing, the bad guys can't handle that."
A few hours later, a swarm of troopers appeared and unlocked their cells. Without explanation, they led the two sisters out of the brig, through several corridors, and into what seemed like some kind of conference room. The guards secured cuffs around their wrists, connected by a length of chain, which they then connected to an anchor point on the solid metal table. They were given metal chairs to sit on, and all of the guards except for one left the room. The remaining guard stood beside the door.
A few attempts to learn information from the guard were rebuffed, and they sat on in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Then finally, the door opened, and three men entered. The first was a large man with red hair, chewing on a cigar in cliche fashion, seemingly heedless of the risk of it lighting his full beard aflame. He wore a simple field uniform, but it bore the rank markings of a colonel. The second man was the man whose face you would see if you looked up the word 'soldier' in the dictionary. His hair was cut close cropped, and his jaw set firmly in such a way that you dare not challenge him. He wore a more formal uniform, also sporting the crest of McCarron's Armored Cavalry, and the insignia of a colonel. The third man was Asian, and wore the uniform of the CCAF, albeit an old one. His calm demeanor and chilling eyes screamed Maskirovka.
The three men sat down opposite the sisters, with the red-haired man in the middle. He was the one to speak, as he tossed their identification cards on the table between them. "So I get told this story, seems there's a couple of pretty young ladies trying to walk through the lines claiming they're Capellan officers. Problem is, their Chinese is only good enough to maybe order from a buffet menu, and their ID's look like they got them off of said buffet menu. Don't look like any CapCon ID's I've ever seen. And then the frosting on the cake, their names." He paused and picked up the ID cards again. "Azalea McCarron and Hope McCarron? What, you pick these names out at Easter time or something?"
Azalea banged her hands on the table, getting satisfaction in the ringing of the metal of her cuffs off the table. "They were picked by our mother, Lady Freyja McCarron. I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you better start showing some respect around here." Hope tried in vain to rein her sister in, but Azalea plowed ahead. "I'm tired of this shit, and I want some answers."
The colonel with the close cropped hair kicked back in his chair and laughed. "I don't know, Archie, she sure as shit sounds like a McCarron to me. Maybe you ought to listen to her."
The red haired man held up a hand. "Can it, Marcus. This is serious." He turned to Azalea. "Well young lady, I don't know who, as you so distinctly put it, the fuck you are, but I am Colonel Archibald McCarron, Mandrinn of Menke, and commander of McCarron's Armored Cavalry. I don't know of anyone in the family named after a flower or a prayer. You have some explaining to do."
The sisters sat back in stunned silence. No one spoke for an awkward moment, eyes darting around the room. It was finally the other colonel who broke the silence with a chuckle. "Well shit, Archie, you scared the poor girls into silence."
Hope spoke up meekly. "This can't be. You've been dead for....over a hundred years."
He shook his head. "They haven't put the nail in my coffin yet, girl. Although you look like you've seen a ghost. You're gonna have to do better than that."
The Asian man spoke up next. "If you'll allow me, Colonel, the Maskirovka can obtain the answers you seek. This is clearly some trick of Hanse Davion's, but he will fail in it, I assure you."
Archie McCarron held up a hand. "Hold your horses, Major Lin. We'll get this sorted out, I promise that. Now, ladies. The truth, please. I don't have time to be messing around."
Azalea waved her hands excitedly. "This is the truth. This is who we are. We graduated from the Sarna Martial Academy not more than two weeks ago. We were headed out of system, we jumped, then we crashed. And now we're here."
Major Lin spoke up. "We're obviously getting nowhere with this banter. Turn these spies over to me, and we'll get to the bottom of things. They will tell you the complete truth, Colonel, I assure you."
Hope spoke up. "Wait. We can prove who we are. Take a blood sample and you'll be able to look at the DNA. You'll see that we are authentic McCarron blood, from the line of Thomas McCarron."
He shook his head. "My brother's line hasn't produced any offspring until a little miracle happened about 2 years ago. A little girl named Faith. And you two young ladies are decidedly older than two. Unless you've got anything better than that, I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn you over to the spooks here.
Hope's mind was spinning in circles. Things were happening that couldn't be true. Times and dates simply were not adding up. People were alive that should not be. The only explanation was that they had not gotten lost in a misjump in terms of location, but in terms of time. "What is the date?"
She blurted it out. Azalea looked at her as if to say are you crazy?
Archie McCarron put his cigar out. "Beg your pardon?"
Hope closed her eyes. "Today's date, what is it?"
Archibald McCarron answered. "It's May the twenty-ninth, thirty twenty-nine. Why?"
29 May, 3029. It hit them both like a Gauss rifle slug. Things had definitely gone wrong.
Sarna Commonality
Capellan Confederation
The farmers, militia, or whoever they were had grown tired of Azalea's protests, and in addition to binding the sisters hands, they fashioned makeshift gags out of bandannas to ensure a peaceful trip as they pushed the two girls into the back of a ramshackle truck. Hope looked over at her sister, taking note of the bruise beginning to form on her jaw.
It had all happened so fast. One minute they were elated, having found civilization. Their ordeal should have been over. Except that it wasn't. Those who should have been their saviors had treated them with confusing disdain. Rather than be accepted as Capellan soldiers, they were instead taken for Davion spies. None of that added up. Sarna was not under Davion threat. If anything, it was House Davion that feared the Capellan military these days. Sarna was well behind the front lines.
And then there was the way that the men had reacted to learning their names. These girls were used to their names opening doors for them, not closing them. Things simply didn't add up. They rode on in their enforced silence for what seemed like hours. She lost count of the number of times she cramped up in the uncomfortable seating in the back of the truck as they rumbled over poorly maintained roads, hitting bumps and rocks, more than once tossing one of the sisters to the floor. Two armed men rode in the back with them, but they never spoke, only occasionally moving to light a cigarette or to toss a spent one from the back of the vehicle.
Finally, they came to a stop. She could faintly hear voices coming from the cabin of the truck, but she could not make out any of what was said. After a few moments, the rear hatch swung open, and the leader of the group from before motioned to the two guards, who in turn roughly ushered the two women from the back of the truck and to their feet. Their hands were still bound in front of them, and they were led to a gate that was obviously a checkpoint of some kind for a large compound that lay sprawled ahead of them.
Custody was clearly transferred when they reached the gate, and two uniformed infantry troopers took them by the arm and led them through the gate. Hope noted the patch on the troopers uniforms, a helmeted knight with two clenched fists. Still gagged, she grunted to Azalea and motioned to the patch. Her sister gave her a confused look.
That's the insignia of McCarron's Armored Cavalry. But none of the MAC units are stationed anywhere near Sarna, so what is going on here?
They were marched unceremoniously past several buildings in what was a huge, if temporarily erected compound. It was a pop-up compound like had served many a house and mercenary unit throughout the history of the conflicts of the Inner Sphere. Hell, it was something like what Hope had expected to find herself in when they reached their assignment with the MAC on the front lines. They were led to a building which seemed to double as storage and a makeshift brig. The first two cells were occupied by what looked like passed out infantrymen or tankers, one of which had recently spread the contents of his stomach, suitably soaked in some cheap alcohol, all over the floor.
Hope and Azalea each were shoved into their own cell, and their gag and wrist bindings removed. They were roughly and thoroughly searched by the two troopers, their pockets emptied and their overshirts removed, leaving them in only their now sweat soaked tank tops.
"You should have seen our identification by now. You know we're CCAF soldiers, same as you. What's going on?" Azalea demanded.
The young corporal, who spoke with a distinct Chesterton accent, seemed unimpressed. "That's all above my pay grade ma'am. Locals brought you in with fake papers on suspicion of being spies for the Federated Suns. Somebody will be down to sort you out when they get a chance. Till then, sit tight."
Their cell doors slammed shut. As soon as the guards had taken a few steps away, the sisters turned to each other. Azalea spoke up first. "What the hell is going on, and what were you trying to tell me earlier?"
Hope looked around nervously before speaking. "This is all wrong. I mean like everything is wrong. These guys are McCarron's Armored Cavalry. But we're on Sarna, they shouldn't be anywhere near Sarna. And those locals? Yeah, I know we're a couple of spoiled brats, but we shouldn't stick out that bad. I mean, we lived here for four years for fucks sake."
Hope stood still, but Azalea paced the tight confines of her cell like a caged animal. "What could have gone wrong in the time we were out of it that has them on edge like this?"
Hope rattled on the bars of the cell. "Zee, you're not listening to me. This is like major league wrong. Ok, we misjumped, but we couldn't have been out of things for more than a few days till the time of the crash. There's no way that the planet would be under threat of Davion attack and have the MAC back here to meet it in that amount of time."
Azalea stopped and faced her sister. "So what are you saying is going on? You're the smart one here, remember?"
Hope looked up at the ceiling of the cell. "I'm saying that I don't know, Zee. I don't know and it scares the shit out of me."
Azalea walked over and grabbed her sister's hands through the bars of the cell. "Listen. I don't know what fucked up shit we've gotten ourselves into, but we'll get through it. We always do. Whatever we landed in, we landed in it together. And I know one thing, the bad guys can't handle that."
A few hours later, a swarm of troopers appeared and unlocked their cells. Without explanation, they led the two sisters out of the brig, through several corridors, and into what seemed like some kind of conference room. The guards secured cuffs around their wrists, connected by a length of chain, which they then connected to an anchor point on the solid metal table. They were given metal chairs to sit on, and all of the guards except for one left the room. The remaining guard stood beside the door.
A few attempts to learn information from the guard were rebuffed, and they sat on in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Then finally, the door opened, and three men entered. The first was a large man with red hair, chewing on a cigar in cliche fashion, seemingly heedless of the risk of it lighting his full beard aflame. He wore a simple field uniform, but it bore the rank markings of a colonel. The second man was the man whose face you would see if you looked up the word 'soldier' in the dictionary. His hair was cut close cropped, and his jaw set firmly in such a way that you dare not challenge him. He wore a more formal uniform, also sporting the crest of McCarron's Armored Cavalry, and the insignia of a colonel. The third man was Asian, and wore the uniform of the CCAF, albeit an old one. His calm demeanor and chilling eyes screamed Maskirovka.
The three men sat down opposite the sisters, with the red-haired man in the middle. He was the one to speak, as he tossed their identification cards on the table between them. "So I get told this story, seems there's a couple of pretty young ladies trying to walk through the lines claiming they're Capellan officers. Problem is, their Chinese is only good enough to maybe order from a buffet menu, and their ID's look like they got them off of said buffet menu. Don't look like any CapCon ID's I've ever seen. And then the frosting on the cake, their names." He paused and picked up the ID cards again. "Azalea McCarron and Hope McCarron? What, you pick these names out at Easter time or something?"
Azalea banged her hands on the table, getting satisfaction in the ringing of the metal of her cuffs off the table. "They were picked by our mother, Lady Freyja McCarron. I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you better start showing some respect around here." Hope tried in vain to rein her sister in, but Azalea plowed ahead. "I'm tired of this shit, and I want some answers."
The colonel with the close cropped hair kicked back in his chair and laughed. "I don't know, Archie, she sure as shit sounds like a McCarron to me. Maybe you ought to listen to her."
The red haired man held up a hand. "Can it, Marcus. This is serious." He turned to Azalea. "Well young lady, I don't know who, as you so distinctly put it, the fuck you are, but I am Colonel Archibald McCarron, Mandrinn of Menke, and commander of McCarron's Armored Cavalry. I don't know of anyone in the family named after a flower or a prayer. You have some explaining to do."
The sisters sat back in stunned silence. No one spoke for an awkward moment, eyes darting around the room. It was finally the other colonel who broke the silence with a chuckle. "Well shit, Archie, you scared the poor girls into silence."
Hope spoke up meekly. "This can't be. You've been dead for....over a hundred years."
He shook his head. "They haven't put the nail in my coffin yet, girl. Although you look like you've seen a ghost. You're gonna have to do better than that."
The Asian man spoke up next. "If you'll allow me, Colonel, the Maskirovka can obtain the answers you seek. This is clearly some trick of Hanse Davion's, but he will fail in it, I assure you."
Archie McCarron held up a hand. "Hold your horses, Major Lin. We'll get this sorted out, I promise that. Now, ladies. The truth, please. I don't have time to be messing around."
Azalea waved her hands excitedly. "This is the truth. This is who we are. We graduated from the Sarna Martial Academy not more than two weeks ago. We were headed out of system, we jumped, then we crashed. And now we're here."
Major Lin spoke up. "We're obviously getting nowhere with this banter. Turn these spies over to me, and we'll get to the bottom of things. They will tell you the complete truth, Colonel, I assure you."
Hope spoke up. "Wait. We can prove who we are. Take a blood sample and you'll be able to look at the DNA. You'll see that we are authentic McCarron blood, from the line of Thomas McCarron."
He shook his head. "My brother's line hasn't produced any offspring until a little miracle happened about 2 years ago. A little girl named Faith. And you two young ladies are decidedly older than two. Unless you've got anything better than that, I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn you over to the spooks here.
Hope's mind was spinning in circles. Things were happening that couldn't be true. Times and dates simply were not adding up. People were alive that should not be. The only explanation was that they had not gotten lost in a misjump in terms of location, but in terms of time. "What is the date?"
She blurted it out. Azalea looked at her as if to say are you crazy?
Archie McCarron put his cigar out. "Beg your pardon?"
Hope closed her eyes. "Today's date, what is it?"
Archibald McCarron answered. "It's May the twenty-ninth, thirty twenty-nine. Why?"
29 May, 3029. It hit them both like a Gauss rifle slug. Things had definitely gone wrong.
The Sisters of Sarna - Chapter 2
Location Unknown
Azalea awoke to the steady drip of water landing on her face. She had no idea how long she had been out, or even when exactly she had lost consciousness. The crash was a blur. As the world around her came into focus, she became aware of light, sunlight, piercing through an opening above her. She tried to blink herself to consciousness. Where is my sister?!
"Hope?!" She heard nothing at first. "HOPE!" she was rewarded the second time with a cough to her right. She shook her head, trying to shake the confusion free. She saw her sister laying on her side, open her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. They were alive, at least. Somehow they had made it. She stood slowly, realizing the deck plate below her was resting at an odd angle. The opening she had seen earlier was a huge gash in the side of the compartment they had been in. Sunlight was flooding through, as was water, slowly dripping into a small puddle forming at the base of the compartment.
"Hope, can you move? Are you alright?" her sister was slowly sitting up, taking account of herself just as Azalea had a few moments before.
"I'm fine Zee, at least I think so. We crashed. We're alive."
"Thank you, miss obvious," Azalea quipped. "We have to get outside, see what the situation is. Are you good to move?"
Hope nodded, and the sisters carefully climbed their way towards the tear in the hull before climbing out into a hot, humid marsh. The air was thick, both with moisture and with insects, which immediately began feasting upon the twins as they emerged. They quickly got their bearings, finding the outline of the part of the ship that they had gone down with. With the ship secured for jump operations, their particular segment of the ship was empty of people. Indeed, they should not even have been there, but for their little excursion.
They found no other survivors in their immediate area, and as the day wore on, they quickly made a search of the wreckage for any supplies they could use. Thankfully, the segment of the ship that had come down with them included one of the dropship's escape pods, and so there was an ample supply of emergency rations, supplies, and an assault rifle. By the time the sun had set, they had managed to erect a shelter to keep out the elements, and started a fire.
The immediate situation in hand, and with night falling, the sisters sat beside the fire, which thankfully kept away the insects that had done their best to make a meal of the two girls throughout the afternoon.
"So what the fuck happened?" Azalea asked as much to the universe as to the sister who sat beside her.
Hope rubbed her hands over her arms. "I don't know. Obviously we misjumped, but normally that just puts you either stranded at your starting point, stranded at your destination, or 'poof' out of existence. We clearly didn't seem to end up at the start or finish or our trip, and from the itching of these bug bites, we haven't poofed out of existence. So that leaves.....I don't know.
Azalea sighed, "You're supposed to be the smart one. You got the brains, I got the boobs. If you don't know what happened..." She let her question drift off unanswered. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
"Well, we have to figure out where the hell we are. Looking up at the stars can give us some idea of that."
Azalea shook her head, "You're not going to start doing math on me, are you. You know I hate math."
Hope slapped her sister on the arm. "You don't hate math Zee, you just prefer to let me do the math. But no, seriously, we can make an educated guess based on the alignment of certain stars in the sky. I'm not saying I can tell you what planet we're on, but I can tell you maybe which corner of the Sphere we're in."
Azalea let Hope ramble on about the position of stars relative to each other, knowing that her sister understood the details far better than she ever would. Instead, she gazed up into the heavens, trying to see patterns and constellations to comfort her. It was silly to think that gazing up at the stars would bring her any kind of comfort, but it was her way of relaxing while her sister's mind worked.
Then she saw it. "Shut up, I know where we are."
Hope glared at her. "Were you even listening to me? I've figured out that we're rimward of Terra, so we're not that far off where we should be. I mean, we're not in the clan homeworlds or anything."
"We're still on Sarna."
The two stared at each other for a moment before Hope spoke up. "And you know this how?"
"Well, the constellations are unique to each world, right? We're staring up at the same sky, but from vastly different points. So the constellations that we saw growing up on Lummatii aren't going to be close to the ones on Sarna. And you may be the brains of the operation, but I spent a hell of a lot more time looking up into the sky than you did."
Hope smiled mockingly at her. "Probably on your back with some guys head between your legs."
Azalea raised an eyebrow. "Hey, don't knock it. So I may have been bored while that stupid rich prick from Menke was trying to figure out what he was doing down there, but in between making sure he felt like he was the greatest little lover in the world, I drew some pretty pictures with the constellations. And it gave me something to focus on whenever I had to deal with a less than spectacular end to an evening. But I also know these stars. We're on Sarna, I'm telling you. We must have crashed on the ass end of Jacarlos somewhere, but it's Sarna. All we have to do is make our way to some kind of civilization, and we'll be fine. We've got a gun, that will keep the bigger lizards off us, and when we find some loyal Capellan homestead, we flash our IDs, and we're fine."
Hope glanced around nervously. "It just doesn't feel right. We spent four years here. It doesn't feel like Sarna."
Azalea frowned. "We spent four years on Sarna as cadets at the academy and as a couple of rich bitches. Unless you were slumming it sometime out in the swamps that I didn't know about, we didn't spend too much time out in these parts. Trust me. Come on, we'll button up for the night, and hit the road in the morning."
The night passed without incident, and by morning, they were indeed on the road. They struggled to make a good pace with the heat and humidity, and staying on dry land through the marshes proved to be a challenge as well. Several times they had nearly been accosted by rather large predatory lizards, but each time, Azalea had dispatched their would be tormentors with a shot from her assault rifle.
They had just about given up on finding civilization for the day when they broke out of the marsh and into what was obviously a cultivated paddy field. Where there was farming, there were people. The sisters sloshed their way through the flooded paddy until they reached a raised section of land that could almost serve as a road. The vegetation was still thick, and with the waning light, they could not see very far in front of their path.
Suddenly a light snapped on in front of them, blinding them temporarily, and they could hear several excited voices. Both women shielded their eyes from the blazing light, trying to recover. A voice shouted out from behind the light, in Mandarin. "Drop your weapons. We shoot Davion rats here."
What the hell? "We are not Davions. We are Capellan Janshi. Our ship crashed back in the marsh. We are trying to make our way back."
She heard a grunt in reply. "You speak Mandarin like guests on a Davion soap opera."
Fuck. She knew that her Mandarin wasn't perfect, not being a native speaker, but both she and her sister spoke at least passable forms of the language. She placed her weapon on the ground, and her hands in the air. "You can check our papers. We are graduates of the Sarna Martial Academy, and loyal Capellan soldiers. There's no cause for alarm."
"We'll see. I still say you talk like Davion spies."
Hope whispered to her as a figure emerged from the light, carrying a rifle. "I should have done the talking, my Mandarin is better."
Azalea stared daggers at her sister. "You think these bumpkins care?"
"Quiet!" the man walking towards them shouted. As he reached them, his eyes darted back and forth between the two sisters. "You talk like Davions, look like Davions. We could just shoot you and leave you here in the marshes, save the Chancellor the time. Show me your papers, and I might change my mind."
Azalea slowly removed her ID card from the back pocket of her pants, and handed it over to the man, who looked over it confusedly. "I am supposed to believe this? This is a bad forgery to start, and the name? McCarron? As in the mercenaries who are supposedly here to protect us? The Fox is not as sly as he thinks if these are the spies he is sending us. Don't move. We will take you to the authorities, and turn you in for a reward."
"This is all a mistake. I don't know what you think you're talking about, but we are Capellan officers and-"
Her protests were cut off with the butt of the man's rifle to her jaw. As she spun around and fell to the ground, she heard her sister scream in protest, but those screams were quickly muffled. The world swam around her as she tried to get a handle on what exactly was going on.
Azalea awoke to the steady drip of water landing on her face. She had no idea how long she had been out, or even when exactly she had lost consciousness. The crash was a blur. As the world around her came into focus, she became aware of light, sunlight, piercing through an opening above her. She tried to blink herself to consciousness. Where is my sister?!
"Hope?!" She heard nothing at first. "HOPE!" she was rewarded the second time with a cough to her right. She shook her head, trying to shake the confusion free. She saw her sister laying on her side, open her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. They were alive, at least. Somehow they had made it. She stood slowly, realizing the deck plate below her was resting at an odd angle. The opening she had seen earlier was a huge gash in the side of the compartment they had been in. Sunlight was flooding through, as was water, slowly dripping into a small puddle forming at the base of the compartment.
"Hope, can you move? Are you alright?" her sister was slowly sitting up, taking account of herself just as Azalea had a few moments before.
"I'm fine Zee, at least I think so. We crashed. We're alive."
"Thank you, miss obvious," Azalea quipped. "We have to get outside, see what the situation is. Are you good to move?"
Hope nodded, and the sisters carefully climbed their way towards the tear in the hull before climbing out into a hot, humid marsh. The air was thick, both with moisture and with insects, which immediately began feasting upon the twins as they emerged. They quickly got their bearings, finding the outline of the part of the ship that they had gone down with. With the ship secured for jump operations, their particular segment of the ship was empty of people. Indeed, they should not even have been there, but for their little excursion.
They found no other survivors in their immediate area, and as the day wore on, they quickly made a search of the wreckage for any supplies they could use. Thankfully, the segment of the ship that had come down with them included one of the dropship's escape pods, and so there was an ample supply of emergency rations, supplies, and an assault rifle. By the time the sun had set, they had managed to erect a shelter to keep out the elements, and started a fire.
The immediate situation in hand, and with night falling, the sisters sat beside the fire, which thankfully kept away the insects that had done their best to make a meal of the two girls throughout the afternoon.
"So what the fuck happened?" Azalea asked as much to the universe as to the sister who sat beside her.
Hope rubbed her hands over her arms. "I don't know. Obviously we misjumped, but normally that just puts you either stranded at your starting point, stranded at your destination, or 'poof' out of existence. We clearly didn't seem to end up at the start or finish or our trip, and from the itching of these bug bites, we haven't poofed out of existence. So that leaves.....I don't know.
Azalea sighed, "You're supposed to be the smart one. You got the brains, I got the boobs. If you don't know what happened..." She let her question drift off unanswered. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
"Well, we have to figure out where the hell we are. Looking up at the stars can give us some idea of that."
Azalea shook her head, "You're not going to start doing math on me, are you. You know I hate math."
Hope slapped her sister on the arm. "You don't hate math Zee, you just prefer to let me do the math. But no, seriously, we can make an educated guess based on the alignment of certain stars in the sky. I'm not saying I can tell you what planet we're on, but I can tell you maybe which corner of the Sphere we're in."
Azalea let Hope ramble on about the position of stars relative to each other, knowing that her sister understood the details far better than she ever would. Instead, she gazed up into the heavens, trying to see patterns and constellations to comfort her. It was silly to think that gazing up at the stars would bring her any kind of comfort, but it was her way of relaxing while her sister's mind worked.
Then she saw it. "Shut up, I know where we are."
Hope glared at her. "Were you even listening to me? I've figured out that we're rimward of Terra, so we're not that far off where we should be. I mean, we're not in the clan homeworlds or anything."
"We're still on Sarna."
The two stared at each other for a moment before Hope spoke up. "And you know this how?"
"Well, the constellations are unique to each world, right? We're staring up at the same sky, but from vastly different points. So the constellations that we saw growing up on Lummatii aren't going to be close to the ones on Sarna. And you may be the brains of the operation, but I spent a hell of a lot more time looking up into the sky than you did."
Hope smiled mockingly at her. "Probably on your back with some guys head between your legs."
Azalea raised an eyebrow. "Hey, don't knock it. So I may have been bored while that stupid rich prick from Menke was trying to figure out what he was doing down there, but in between making sure he felt like he was the greatest little lover in the world, I drew some pretty pictures with the constellations. And it gave me something to focus on whenever I had to deal with a less than spectacular end to an evening. But I also know these stars. We're on Sarna, I'm telling you. We must have crashed on the ass end of Jacarlos somewhere, but it's Sarna. All we have to do is make our way to some kind of civilization, and we'll be fine. We've got a gun, that will keep the bigger lizards off us, and when we find some loyal Capellan homestead, we flash our IDs, and we're fine."
Hope glanced around nervously. "It just doesn't feel right. We spent four years here. It doesn't feel like Sarna."
Azalea frowned. "We spent four years on Sarna as cadets at the academy and as a couple of rich bitches. Unless you were slumming it sometime out in the swamps that I didn't know about, we didn't spend too much time out in these parts. Trust me. Come on, we'll button up for the night, and hit the road in the morning."
The night passed without incident, and by morning, they were indeed on the road. They struggled to make a good pace with the heat and humidity, and staying on dry land through the marshes proved to be a challenge as well. Several times they had nearly been accosted by rather large predatory lizards, but each time, Azalea had dispatched their would be tormentors with a shot from her assault rifle.
They had just about given up on finding civilization for the day when they broke out of the marsh and into what was obviously a cultivated paddy field. Where there was farming, there were people. The sisters sloshed their way through the flooded paddy until they reached a raised section of land that could almost serve as a road. The vegetation was still thick, and with the waning light, they could not see very far in front of their path.
Suddenly a light snapped on in front of them, blinding them temporarily, and they could hear several excited voices. Both women shielded their eyes from the blazing light, trying to recover. A voice shouted out from behind the light, in Mandarin. "Drop your weapons. We shoot Davion rats here."
What the hell? "We are not Davions. We are Capellan Janshi. Our ship crashed back in the marsh. We are trying to make our way back."
She heard a grunt in reply. "You speak Mandarin like guests on a Davion soap opera."
Fuck. She knew that her Mandarin wasn't perfect, not being a native speaker, but both she and her sister spoke at least passable forms of the language. She placed her weapon on the ground, and her hands in the air. "You can check our papers. We are graduates of the Sarna Martial Academy, and loyal Capellan soldiers. There's no cause for alarm."
"We'll see. I still say you talk like Davion spies."
Hope whispered to her as a figure emerged from the light, carrying a rifle. "I should have done the talking, my Mandarin is better."
Azalea stared daggers at her sister. "You think these bumpkins care?"
"Quiet!" the man walking towards them shouted. As he reached them, his eyes darted back and forth between the two sisters. "You talk like Davions, look like Davions. We could just shoot you and leave you here in the marshes, save the Chancellor the time. Show me your papers, and I might change my mind."
Azalea slowly removed her ID card from the back pocket of her pants, and handed it over to the man, who looked over it confusedly. "I am supposed to believe this? This is a bad forgery to start, and the name? McCarron? As in the mercenaries who are supposedly here to protect us? The Fox is not as sly as he thinks if these are the spies he is sending us. Don't move. We will take you to the authorities, and turn you in for a reward."
"This is all a mistake. I don't know what you think you're talking about, but we are Capellan officers and-"
Her protests were cut off with the butt of the man's rifle to her jaw. As she spun around and fell to the ground, she heard her sister scream in protest, but those screams were quickly muffled. The world swam around her as she tried to get a handle on what exactly was going on.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)