"M'am yes m'am.", Echo bobs up and down on her toes barely capable of containing her excitement.  She couldnt understand why the mood was so subdued on the eve of such an exciting operation.

'It was the night before Ops...
and all the creatures were stirring...
especially the faithful... like me!', Regina was attending to her pre-operation preparation and was personally loading each missile into the bay of her Valkyrie.  Whispered words of prayer blessed the lethal munition as she stencil painted the Com Star Emblem on the head of each warhead.

She was humming little holiday lullabies as she went about her business.

'Why wasnt anyone saying anything?
 Did they all know the plan inside and out already?
 What was the plan?
 Goddess... am i late?, Echo's hand went up again as she had another question.


"M'am.
 I understand the objective.  What are the details to the plan?"

 This was his first time in the "Briefing room" and to see all those who would be his team mates and would live and die tomorrow. His time under the guns were enough to keep him from running away but the fear was still there, just under the skin and behind the quick flick of eyes that dont want to meet another friends eyes, knowing that the possibility was there to go up like a roman candle. Still he would do his job to the best of his skills.

 He found a chair and looked over the his Commander and the XO.

Echo was starting to get on Tamara's nerves, but that was to be expected.

"Lt. Mendoza and Tarkin are able officers and will be the field commandera.
 No plan survives impact with the enemy.
 As such i will leave it to them to conduct the details of the operations."

Tamara eyes the room and there seemed to be no other queries.  It was time to go before 'Mechwarrior' Echo assailed her with another useless question.  As she departed she gave Lina an exasperated look and an nod of acknowledgement.


OOC for Roger.
Carmine is the closest thing to a Militia Commander at the moment.  She came in from the field alone so she doesnt have an XO.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:10, Mon 07 Oct 2013.

With the briefing coming to a close Pax wanted to make sure that his unit was ready to move out on time.  Raising his hand to indicate the briefing was not yet over for his guys.

"Rat Pack.  I want load outs and unit status filed 4 hours before we leave.  Chief, if you have a problem solve it.  If you can't I want to know ASAP.

Pilots, help with mech prep as much as you can but I want you in your rack and rested for the mission.  Get a good look at the route and the map of the area."

He knew the next part would cause some problems, "Rat Pack is on E-Rations till after the op.  Can't risks anyone else getting ill before the mission.  NO EXCEPTIONS. "
This message was last edited by the player at 05:29, Mon 07 Oct 2013.

Lieutenant Carmine Cameron-Mendoza sat on one of the collapsible metal chairs around the table in the makeshift briefing room the locals had put together on the fly, she was a tall mahogany skinned young women who looked young despite the haunted look in her eyes. At the moment she was fingering a prefab metal cup in her hand taking sips of the rapidly cooling coffee inside it, grimacing every once in a while at the almost liquefied asphalt taste of it but she kept drinking it despite the taste desperately needing the caffeine. Their been little time for sleep over the last days and weeks, after the Brave Companions had gone head to head with those fed rat bastards in Team Banzai and been gutted, the knowledge that they'd hurt the opposing mercenaries bad and won the time for the towns remaining population to escape was cold comfort. The mahogany skinned nobleborn felt the cold ache inside her chest at the memories of her missing comrades, her childhood friends from back on Andrasta and fellow members of a chivalry club that had become so much more to them than that. Now she'd buried most of them and what were left were bundled in with the remnants of the militia, the same militia she had been chosen to lead once more into the breach, to fight and to die once again.

The dark skinned young woman took another long sip of her coffee and forced those thoughts from her head focusing on her job, if she didn't do it right then a lot more of her people where going to die then had to and she couldn't allow that. She was relatively clean and well clothed by the standards of everyone in the room thanks to heroic efforts by herself to maintain her uniform and personal hygiene, she wore one of the blue-grey uniforms of the companions mostly patched and repaired but mostly clean and whole with black leather riding boots that had seen better days. Her blue-grey beret still bore the patch of the the Brave Companions, a knight on horseback with a shield bearing a cross and a lance high and at the ready with a banner flowing from it with the unit name carefully written and under it in latin the unit motto, Clangent tubis triumphali. Although now she wore on her beret and collar tabs the unit insignia and rank markings of the Detroit militia, which despite looking a little odd she managed to pull of easily making it look a little heroic.

She nodded and raised her hands to wave Rogers over, then as she head Commander Snows argument she gave her a long flat look then turned her her opposite number leading the Rat Pack. Her hands already moving to spread out the maps and drawings that had been made of the field, then she spoke her voice the clipped aristocratic accent of a noble mixed with the polyglot accent of a Free Worlds League citizen. "Alright, we'll come up with something at least the operation won't be micromanaged to death. What are we likely to be facing in the way of resistant at the landing field? Mobile forces and fixed defenses?"

OOC: Clangent tubis triumphali = Sound the Trumpets of Triumph.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:05, Mon 07 Oct 2013.

Henriette eyed the local bubble of happiness, and shook her head, before looking at the enarest warrior, who jsut happened to be The Mahogany noble
"Bubbles over there seems awfully cheerfull, considering the amount of death around here"
Time for some hazing, she couldn't stand positive types like that, how could they remain so... cheerfull when there were people laying dead everywhere wihin miles, and freaking barbarians ignoring the ares convention were the ones to murder them.

the girl seriously needed to be taken down a notch or two.

then Tarkin blew the news... no proper food tilla fter the mission, Henriette forgot everything about bubbly cheerleaders who had no right being in a mech, or anything else for that matter, and glared at their boss.

Henriettes limit had always been her food and booze, she'd function fine every mission, but what she ate or drank, was her business and hers alone, fortunately she had a really good scotch stowed away in her footlocker, that'd take the brunt of the damned rations.

but hey, Bubbles got lucky, cause Henriette completely forgot about the girl.

Tamara pauses on her way out, checking her stride to address Carmine.

"There is a company of mechs, a company of mechanized conventional, and an undetermined amount of soft (infantry) support at the Space port.  Detroit never bothered to put up a much in the line of fortifications, so we wont have to worry about that.  If the 101st does it's job correctly, the nimble elements will be deployed to deal with the diversionary raid.  You can expect slower units to be on duty when you arrive."

Carmine has no idea who this 101st Combat group are, but they've managed to quietly help the Detroit militia stay together long enough for this merc unit to show up to shore up the militia.  One or two friendlies had yet to check in from the field but if they didnt show by dusk, they werent going to make the party.

The 101st didnt look of feel like a Free World League unit, that much she knew.  They couldnt be Davion affiliated, or they wouldnt be opposing Team Banzai.  If the Capellans had a unit like the 101st, they wouldnt be wasting them on Detroit.  So exactly who the 101st were, was a mystery to Mendoza
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:15, Mon 07 Oct 2013.

Echo looked about lost for the moment wondering where exactly she was suppose to be.  She took a step towards Tamara and Lina when Lt. Tarkin called for a meeting of some sort.  With an energetic spring to her step she goes over to see what was happening at the small group of pilots.  There werent alot of them.  Less than a full strength platoon.

"I Pilot a Locust sir.  A LCT-3V.  Based off the standard LCT-1V introduced by Bergan Industries, circa 2499.  Speedy reconnaissance mech powered but the 160 rated LTV Fusion Engine, top speed of 129.6kph.  I've tried to keep her up to date.  The Sperry Browning Machine Guns, while reliable and superb for anti personnel work were lacking for heavier combat.  The light rounds, quickly loose effectiveness over a very short distance and are incapable of penetrating mech armor beyond 90 meters...", Echo spews technical Jargon at Pax with more energy and enthusism than anyone in Miller's Creek should have.  After a whlie it just becomes a technical wall of worthless background nose.

Lina,should be in ear shot of the enthusiastic Echo rambling along, and should probably come and rescue Pax.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:51, Mon 07 Oct 2013.

David listened with interest to the briefing and nods appreciatively on hearing the objectives.  He wanted another crack at those bandits, and he was going to get it.  The news about the rations didn't sit well with him at all but that was a small price to pay, he figured, to avoid any unpleasantries mid-battle.  He was also glad, given the time frame, that his Jenner needed very little work to be combat operational.

He does arch an eyebrow at his more enthusiastic teammates.  How they manage to remain so cheerful mildly irritated him but he figures it's how some people deal with stress.  Still, you rarely get to choose your co-workers.  Snow's techo-babble in Pax's ear did bring a smile to his face, however.  It was one more reason he was glad he wasn't an officer.

He looks around and his fellow mechwarriors, "Well, it looks like we have our work cut out for us.  We'd best get started.".

Lieutenant Mendoza turned her eyes on the blonde mechwarrior from the rat pack and gave her flat look as she spoke slowly and carefully, she didn't know how much authority she had over the boys and girls of the Rat Pack but still this couldn't be allowed to go by. She spoke clearly as if to a small child making her polyglot accent a little more noticeable, "Grow up and stop acting like a child Mechwarrior because your certainly acting like one, we have a enough things out there trying to kill us and the people around us without adding petty inter unit squabbling to it all." She slowly carefully corrected the map in front of her as if calming herself, "Shes not a veteran yet, she hasn't seen the blood and the bodies which is a state of affairs that won't last anywhere as long as it should. She could be dead at the end of this raid, or me, or you, or even all of us and knowing that your first reaction is to want to pick on the rookie." She turned her gaze on Henriette again, "Let me make this clear,  don't care how you Rat Pack pilots do things in your units, the lives of my people depend on you being fighting affective, so if I hear about you picking on her or any other rookie in your outfit I will personally make it my business to bounce you off your mechs armour until it dents, understood."

Camarine turned back to the briefing officer and nodded slowly, "Sounds like close to an equal fight but we can't afford the losses of an open field slugging match with the Fed Rats. If the 101st can lure the mechanized company and one or two lances of their mechs away from the port, we can overwhelm and slaughter they infantry and remaining lances. Then if things really go well we might be able to catch them in a pincer and destroy their mobile reaction team, if we get really luck. But this operation is doable. What can you tell me about the 101st, are they merc? Also do we have any clue about the quality of the troops we'll be facing?"

Henriette sneered, this piece of shit dared to speak to her like that?
"You're welcome to try, lets see who ends up bouncing anywhere, missy."
She thumbed in the direction of the cheerleader.
"Attitudes like hers get people killed, too bright and sunny to realize until it's too late, just what kind of pounding they're in for..."
She sighed, and looked away, and down, her voice lowered now.
"...and just how many friends they'll get killed"
better to take her down a notch, so she won't make those mistakes

"alright, I'll leave her alone.
But if she gets anyone killed I'm going to kick her cute little ass spacebound"

It took forever for Hank to get old Vera stowed, but finally managed to climb down out of the comfortable and duct taped (damn straight duck tape still exists) seat before he started to light a worn cigar.  A sound drew his attention and one of the techs who pointed to a canister of potent flamer fuel, and he simply smiled as he walked away.  Eventually he flagged down another tech and got directions for the briefing room.  When he was out of sight he blazed up the nubbed cigar, but it only managed to stay lit for a few minutes and was extinguished before he made it to the briefing room.

He faintly still smelled of smoke, and absently chewed the worn nub, as he walked in and looked the group over.  He had opened the jumpsuit so that his white tee was all he had wearing, the thick pilots belt kept the suit from falling down past his waist.  He waited for the two woman to come to whatever agreement they had and determined that he should probably introduce himself.  “Mechwarrior Hank.”  He gave a lopsided and sloppy salute of a merc and took the cigar out.  “Heard there was a call for pilots to help out, so, uh here I am.  You guys are still paying, right?”

 The loud whispering or maybe just low talking from to of the Merc units mech pilots seemed like a bad omen to him, but what the hell, their luck had gone from just plain bad to down right ugly.

 The few mechs he had seen doing patrols around the area were all light stuff, like his. Still, put enough of the light stuff out there and they could take down something big but the cost would be high.

 He just leaned back and listened to the chatter and hoped he survived long enough to catch a ride off this rock with their drop ship.

Echo was still in the midst of explaining the modifications that had been made to her mech when she noticed Carmine and Henriette getting louder, "So.  With these new advances you can see how the weight mass ratio is related, and how it would be benificial to upgrade...", Echo looks away from Pax to look at the two pilots having a spirited conversation.

Valkyrie loaded and combat ready, there really wasnt anything more for Regina to do, but catch a really good nap.  Good bed rest could be the difference between getting and not getting Blake's blessings.

"May the light of Blake shrine serenely down upon me while i sleep so that i might wake well and refreshed to do his bidding.", Stiffling a yawn Regina goes to bed, the first it seemed from all the tell tale empty cots.

Tarkin raised his hand to stop the young Mechwarrior, "I am aware of the Locust design.  Be sure to check in with the crew chief so that he can update his records for your mech."

And he then left the briefing room.  He had a lot to double check on and needed to be out and about.

Mech, people, and a battle plan he hoped would work.  He sure hoped the Boss would be back soon.

The mahogany skinned mercenary officer looked over to the blonde mechwarrior and smiled her teeth shockingly white compared to the dark skin of her face, "Sounds like fun times to me." Then she spoke again in that cool crisp command voice with her polygot accent, "Maybe your right maybe your wrong but I won't have the mechwarriors at my back at each others throats before of childish personality conflicts, we've got enough enemies out there trying to send us to a early grave, we won't be helping them along with that." She nodded to the bubbly mechwarrior, "She's survived this long she might surprise you and if she doesn't then she'll live or die like the rest of us, thats all we can ask. Now.... this is the end of this conversation Mechwarrior, sit down and lets get to work."

Carmine looked up from the charts and carefully eyed the maled mechwarrior before her, nose twitched a little in instinctive disgust at the tobacco the cigarette was made of which bore little resemblance to plant smoked on her agrarian homeworld, to many chemical additives. But long experience as a noble's daughter keep any internal thoughts from her face as she nodded to him, "Lieutenant Mendoza, formerly of the Brave Companions, I think I'm the closest thing to a field commander this group has right now. Yes the Detroiters are still paying us, what unit did you fight with before you ended up here?"

Olaf arrived early for the briefing having spent much of the day just as he had the previous, supervising the work of a pair of technicians on his aged and battle-worn Whitworth.  It had been a frustrating process.  Not that the techs weren’t good at the work they did it was the damned mech itself.  The salvaged Draconian war machine hadn’t responded well during the early fighting on Detroit and he couldn‘t shake the feeling that something was wrong.  Yet, the techs kept telling him there were nothing malfunctioning and everything was running to spec.  He’d grudgingly left them to finish the load-out so he could get the mission brief.

Scanning the briefing theatre, he found an empty spot close to Lucius and occupied the chair with a silent nod to the MechWarrior known as Burner.  The two men didn’t know each other very well, but it had become clear over the last few days that both had been contracted with the local militia shortly after the invasion.  Although Olaf had left Lucius to his own devices following the heated exchange with Pax in the mechbay and he didn’t have the full story of the merc unit’s earlier failure but wasn’t surprised that temperatures were still running hot.  The small garrison at Miller’s Creek was rife with tension; primarily between those who had wandered in from the field and those who had jumped in on the original Rat Pack contract.

The big Raslahauger had stayed out of the petty conflicts thus far but he wore a grim countenance at the heated exchange between Carmine and Henriette.  There was fire enough in both of them he just hoped they had the same spirit on the battlefield.  He’d seen enough of the bluster and posturing and despite his misgivings about piloting the Whitworth he itched for the fight to come.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:33, Mon 07 Oct 2013.

Pax left the 'briefing room' and headed back to his quarters to continuing to study the map, route, and mission objectives.  Just like he suggested his unit to do.   'His unit'.  What a joke.   While he had some training he was far from a officer that could lead a unit.  He didn't have the experience.   He poured himself a triple and sipped at it while studying the mission.

They were a light lance but he hoped they could use wolf tactics properly to overwhelm any larger mechs that might be in opposition.  The most heat efficient energy weapon known, the medium laser, was in large supply in their unit.  That was a lot of damage potential ... if they can get close enough to use it.  Oh .... and hit the broad side of a barn.

At the bottom of the glass he didn't find any answers.  Perhaps the next one will.  He poured another and put the bottle away.  Getting hammered definitely was not a solution.  So he sat sipping his drink and running over various scenarios that might crop up during the op.  He would study for several hours checking in on the status of the mechs with the Chief.

Hank shrugged and walked up to the maps.  He read them over with mostly an untrained eye and pointed at several locations.  "Where do these men need to be deployed?  The pad I assume?"

He made his way into the mechbay early, well before any of the others were stirring.  He had never slept well the night before battle and the prospect of fighting alongside mechwarriors he did not know or trust was not helping him get any rest.

“Yokoso, samurai.” the computer’s female voice asked in soft Japanese.  “You are required to provide your verification code.”

Although Olaf understood perfectly, he had chosen a verification code spoken in the tongue of his own people.  Although he was still learning to master the Norsk language he had been forbidden to speak as a child, he had nearly lost his Japanese accent.  Speaking clearly into the comm system the words from the Graenlendigna Saga spilled from his lips: “Many have been brought to death by overconfidence.”  He found the words a calming reminder that in the face of battle it was a certainty that many would die but that he could just as easily fall victim to his own overconfidence as he could to the well placed shot of an enemy laser.

“Domo arigato.” the computer replied softly and the mech cockpit came to life.

Before pulling the heavy neurohelmet down from it’s rack above the command couch onto his padded shoulders, the MechWarrior silently preformed one last personal ritual.  He took a moment of solemn contemplation looking at the white Kenji stencilled on the black cloth band on his lap.  Those characters he had learned to read as a small child, then learned as an adult to resent the oppression they had brought his people.  He knew it was silly and superstitious, but he had never piloted a mech into battle without it.  Without another moment’s thought he gritted his teeth and tied his DCMS hackimaki firmly around his head.

Zoe was late to the party, but not so far behind that she caught the glimpse of the Hatchetman and Whitworth withdrawing under the pressure Regina and Henriette were providing.

Back at the dropship, the last three squads of militia roll onto the dropship to help quell the defense offered by the spaceport security forces.  It will be a bit before they resolve the corridor to corridor fighting, but with out further support from the spaceport, the dropship was all but captured.

Many of the militia's mechs were in need of serious repairs, but there wasnt time for it.  All they had was Zoe, in her Fire Starter as a late addition to support them.

Fortunately, it seemed like most of the fight had gone out of the Op Force.

Lina gets a tight beam priority message from Commander Snow.  Lina quickly reports gives a summary of the report of the situation.

"Stay alert Lina.  The Aurora and Morningstar have both been tracking a pair of Unions making planetfall.  Heavy fighter escorts made them too big for them to handle and they're being let through.  Transponders are identifying them as Federated Suns dropship leased to Team Banzai.", theres a short pause.

"Figure out who needs to stay and who needs to go before they show up.  I obviously dont expect you to stand against two companies of mechs, but it would be nice if we can delay them long enough to take La Trinite to boost off."

"Understood Commander." replied Lina as she started to sweat a little...not so much from the fight as she barely even scratched the edge of her X3's heat capacity and her issued mechwarrior 'suit' was quite far from from full body...but because her X3 miraculously was undamaged so far.  It meant she would be focal in slowing down any assets that came thier way.

Switching comms to the militia units and Rat Pack she filled them in, "We've got two Union dropships burning in as we speak, but we still need some time to capture and burn off with the La Trinite.  Talk to your unit lead...if your mech can handle some more we're going to run cover, if not get out of dodge and take what salvage you can muster."