-- For all rp on board dropship --

The Union class dropship 'Raider' is an old beast, some of its parts over four hundred years old. It was once used by Clan Jade Falcon, and was intended to be sent back to the homeworlds after the first clan invasion wave.
As such the dropship holds some clan tech and schematics, and is updated with clan starcharts. This is the primary reason the Raiders know where to find the clan homeworlds.
The 'Raider' has twelve Mech bays, two aero bays, and an upgraded cargo compartment. It has a standard weapons array and has living room for 32 people.

March 6th, 3051.
19.55 hours. Steltenpool spaceport, Moxley IV.

The ship's warning horn sounds twice, and all lighting turns to red. The colonel's voice comes up over the internal speakers for all to hear.

Attention all. Have a seat and buckle up, prepare for launch. Raider will lift off in five minutes. Make sure all loose items are secured so they don't drift off in zero gravity, ensure all magnetics are enabled. Thank you, have a safe flight.

The dropship begins to rumble and shudder as the engines come to life.

Not yet responsible for anything but her own personal gear in her own quarters Tamara does a quick double check of the few things she has with her, mostly in a duffle bag already secured in her bunk's footlocker.  Then she sets that same bunk to its acceleration couch mode and straps in for the festivities.

Eileen was bone tired, but a light sleeper.  The rumblings of a Dropship taking off was something that was akin to an earthquake and not something you slept through.  As far as she was concerned, she was in a perfect position to wait out the gravitational pull of breaking orbit to make it out to space.  Laid out on her bunk the force is spread out comfortably over her body and easy to wait out.

When it was over she starts to stir.  With a few hours of sleep tucked away, she found she could actually eat.  She manages to drag herself out of bed and notices that she has a bunkmate now.  It wasn't particularly unexpected.  This was a union class dropship, which meant that space was precious and tight, and mostly taken up by huge mechs that were to deploy, which was this things primary focus.  Roomy long term accommodations were not part of it's mission statement.

These bunks must have been installed as a concession to long term travel, and were actually quite the luxury having only two to the room instead of the four she expected.

'Was it morning?  Afternoon?  Evening?', really in space such things sort of lost their meaning.

A mess hall on such a spartan dropship was probably out of the question and would have to wait till they got to where ever they went.  Either to a jump point or a base in system.

Fingers work her hair back into a neat bundle to tie off with red bandana that she had recently bought.  The pony tail was threaded through her Sutherby cap.  At this point she feels capable of getting out of the bunk to face whatever was waiting for her.

"Hello.", she comments to Nadia.  It would have been rude not to make some sort of greetings, but Nadia looked occupied, so she kept it brief.

Picking up her sidearm, she goes to the footlocker to put it away.  You were on a dropship, and shooting it off even accidentaly could do bad things in space, so she understood that such things were not to be carried casually.  Instead, she keeps her belted survival knife handy, making certain it was settle comfortably and out of the way at the small of her back in a horizontal position for easy drawing.

The locker was full of mostly camping supplies she had brought in a hurry.  Among them edibles, water, mess kit, single burner stove, and other things you would need to 'rough it' in the wilds.

She finds the roll of crackers she was looking for and opens it.  They were commercial, and not the military tasteless stuff.  She pops one in her mouth to avoid making crumbs.

"Cracker?", she offers one to her studious room mate.  She sensed, they were going to get along pretty good.  She was left alone to sleep, and this room mate seemed to like to read.  This room mate also seemed to be female, so that whole mixed gender awkwardness wasn't going to be an issue.

Nothing like food to help strangers bond.

After take off the Union dropped into an orbital spin to ensure 1G acceleration. That way zero gravity was over in just a few seconds, short enough time to prevent anything but the occasional loose mug or combat boot to go adrift. When the Union settled into its orbital pattern waiting for its transport launch window the intercom once again came to life.
Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Bubba speaking. Settle in and get comfortable, we will be spending the next twenty-four hours in transit. Raider will be moving on a steady 1G burn towards Moxley III, where we will be landing on its second moon. There we will be home. Once we get there everyone will be assigned quarters and a nice little tour of the compound will be provided in order for everyone to settle in. For now, there is makeshift dinner in mech bay 7 for those that want it. Thank you for travelling Colonel Bubba airlines.

Skinner familiarized himself with the ship, paying special attention to the clan technology. As he does he also makes sure to introduce himself to the crew and other support team making sure he remembered their names. Once in orbit he seeks out the commander.

As he familiarizes himself with the crew Skinner takes special note of mechanical engineer Tony 'Three-finger' Nelson. The young man introduced himself as the engineer assigned to maintain his Mech. His nickname was obvious, the man had only three fingers on his left hand, and no hesitation to explain to Skinner he lost the other two when getting stuck under a loose heat sink on a Commando. With some glee he even explains he used his own angle grinder to cut them off, and that those two fingers are probably still inside a Lyran Mech somewhere.

Lift time was familiar enough that all Nadia had to do after the announcement was pull up the mesh crash netting around the bunk and clip her data pad to the lanyard at her wrist before the ship lifted. Laying back comfortably on the bunk as the acceleration pushed her down into the cushions, she finished the article on transfusion related complications and decided against anything heavy as they broke atmo, settling instead for some of the Bard's sonnets.

As they settled into orbit, everything loose in the bunk floated free, which mainly consisted of Nadia and the pillow she was lying against. Free-fall lasted only a few seconds as the Raider spun up to a comfortable 1G, just long enough for Nadia to float into a sitting position on the bunk. Stowing her data pad in a thigh pocket and taking down the mesh, the slim latina made eye contact with Eileen as she got up and started moving around.

"Good evening." Making eye contact as the redhead greeted her, Nadia smiled and waited her turn to climb down the ladder. The doctor was used to cramped quarters, before they'd gone freelance, she'd shared a four-bunk with the rest of the 317th's medical team for two years, and this was more spacious than that had been. There would be a shaking out period, while they figured out schedules, chores, and the like, but Nadia found that without the big hold-out in her hand and wild look in her eye, Eileen was actually pretty friendly and approachable.

Slipping down off the top bunk as Eileen rummaged in her footlocker, Franz almost subconsciously stepped back into a narrow gap between the bulkhead and a structural brace, taking up as little space as possible. When the cracker was offered, she took one with a smile. "Yes please." Nadia held on to the cracker for a moment, keeping her mouth free. "Better than Fed-Com standard issue, thank you. I'm Nadia Franz, and it looks like we're going to be bunking together."

She paused a moment as the Colonel made an announcement over the intercom, listening carefully to the flight plan. "Well at least for the next day or so. I imagine they'll assign us bunks at the compound." Popping the wafer in her mouth, she chewed it quickly and swallowed, fastidiously checking her fatigues for crumbs. "Should we go see if the food is as good as the signing bonus?"

Candice heads to one of the places you can see outside a port hole during lift off, as this is her first real experience leaving planet.

Eileen quirks an eyebrow at the announcement.  She takes out three other crackers and stows the rest in her locker again.

She continues to eat them one at a time as she recovers her comp unit to put back in her cargo pants.

"You can go on ahead without me.  I suspect that after this announcement it's going to be rather crowded.  I'm not a fan of crowds.  If we have 24 hours of down time, plenty of time to eat later.  I'll probably be along half a hour or so from now when the first wave of hungry mercs are finishing up.", Eileen picks up a few data disc she had prepared and starts to leave.

"Mercs are like animals.  Never come between them and a warm meal."

"Hwyl fawr...", she comments gaily as she steps out of the berth area into the narrow corridors of the dropship.  She's off to the repair area, where most of her gear was quietly stowed in a corner.  She unlocks the crate that containers her equipment and starts to get to work.

A recently added crate was there that she had brought along, that was now shoved out and away a little to have room to work.  Cracking the seals on the thing, a brand new commercial rated Fusion engine was revealed.  Often used to provide power for housing off the grid, or provide power for vehicles like the Savannah Masters that the unit used.

Tools were laid out, along with many parts she had brought along to get to work on the small commercial engine.

Eileen will be busy for a good long time, and only realize she's hungry after a few hours have passed, and the need to relieve herself urges her to stop and take care of mortal fleshy needs.  Even with everything planned out it was probably going to take a while to finish the work she wanted done on the engine block.

The repair area and Mech bays kind of overlap, so from a distance the people having a quick microwave dinner can easily see what is going on the 'shop'.
Cassidy quickly notices Eileen opening a crate and laying out tools. He puts his plate on the table and walks over to the repair bay. There he stands to the side for a few seconds to check what it is she is doing.
After checking she at least takes rudamentary care to place the tools on magnetized trays and takes necessary precoutions to prevent stuff flying about in case of an emergency stop he comes closer to see what she is actually working on.
Good to see you are taking precautions. Always nice to see a mechanic that knows what they are doing. Is that a Urbanworks XL? Sweet little engines those are. reliable too. What are you planning on doing with it?

Having very nearly stuffed herself earlier in the day Tamara takes a few minutes to find her way through some of the less obvious paths of the dropship so she can get a start on learning alternate routs to the mech bay.  Eventually she finds herself in the right place and accepts a plate of the so called makeshift dinner which doesn't seem to be any kind of problem for her standards of quality as she begins eating it even before she makes it all the way to a table.

"It's a the conversion kit for light commercial engines.  I'm looking to see if i can use it on a light engine like the Omni 25 Fusion engine.  Will lighten the engine by... around half... but create balance issue that needs to be redistributed on anything that already has a Omni 25 engine.  For instance on a Savannah master... it would lighten the load, but the bulk we create drag and aero dynamic issues that will create balancing issues."

Eileen makes an ergo motion with her spanner in her hand, "with the weight savings... you solve the balancing issues by fitting heavier armor to rebalance the Savannah master.  That goes for anything you would put this in.  It gets trickier in say... a VTOL, which has aerodynamic issues that if you screw up will make you crash... and be expensive.  Still if i can reduce the mass of this thing from a thousand pounds to around 500, that's a pretty notably load capacity for a light unit."

Eileen is surprisingly friendly and talkative to anyone that talks to her about tech.

"I can't do any of the really serious work on it, but welding of the blocks will have to be done after i get the fittings worked out.  I'm mostly doing a dry run to adjust and fit what i can and to make sure i'm not missing parts ... or... if i am make notes on it, so maybe... we can find a workaround for it."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:14, Mon 06 Mar 2023.

As Candice enjoys staring out the window, enjoying the view of space for the very first time, she hears footsteps coming down the corridor. It's the young Mechwarrior captain.
Keeping a respectfull distance he observes her while she marvels at the beauty of space.
Gorgeous isn't? Can you imagine it streches out like that for millions of years in any direction? Imagine that... a distance so vast we don't even measure it anymore in meters, kilometers, nothing like that... We measure it in lightyears...

He joins her at the window, seeing the planet below them slowly becomming smaller as the dropship turns and sets course to the next planet in system. The green and blue that is Moxley IV quickly become smaller as the Raider reaches 1 G burn, gravity evening out to normal again.
First time in space? He asks...

---

Cassidy rolls up his sleeves after hearing of Eileen's plans. He looks around the tray of tools she has carefully laid out and then takes a look at the conversion kit pieces. His interest is clearly peaked, and the smile on his face betrays that he is in his element.
You could try to counter the balance issues the conversion causes in a small VTOl like the Ferret with a bunch of extra armour, but you would rikslosing the typical characteristics like speed and manouverability. However, in my youth I used to enjoy building racing drones, and regularly souped up those tiny engines. Adding weight actually made them more sluggish instead of faster, but if you adjust the rotorblade size and add a couple of fins they can make optimal use of the added speed and drag it provides, keeping them stable and manouverable, at least at speed. I don't know if that would work for a regular VTOL but I guess it is something to look into.
 
He stands up and walks to one of the work stations where he pulls up the schematics of the Ferret's engine. Humming a tune to himself that Eileen recognises as having bit a hit song twenty years ago he starts to study the blueprints.

---

In the dining area newly appointed chef Sabatino hands out microwaved meals to a couple of newcomers, all the while apologizing that he can not 'shine up a turd and make it edible'. It clearly pains him to have to distribute ready made meals, but it is all the dropship has available. The giant, Maximus Blaze, who is eating his third meal already, keeps reminding him he will have a large kitchen available to him once he gets to Raiders home base.
Sarrah Yu joins them all at the dinner table. She grabs half a bite and slides the plate away in disgust, which creates a waterfall of apologies by the pasta chef. Apologies she ignores as she turns to Tamara.
That Phoenix Hawk in Bay five, that one is yours isn't it?

"I have a custom Ferret... that i named "Clover".  I've taken the design of the Ferret about as far is it will go without radically changing the VTOL's profile.  Fitting a Fusion, especially an XL Fusion into it, will break the profile.  To much fiddling with the heat sinks and power management will change the profile, so i've worked out a new... Ferret inspired... version for this engine for the next iteration... Four Leaf Clover.  It's a little wider and tapered, to help improve control, and provide a little glide for the handling.  You'll have more area to fit cargo, but the ceiling will be lower... In a pinch, the top speed calculations are notably faster than the standard ferret.", Eileen is good with the extra hands.  If it's just an engine conversion, she's not giving any secrets away, and from where she is, she can see when the kitchen thins a little to sneak a quick bites during a lull.

Looking up when the quiet contemplation, for good or ill, of the food is interrupted it takes Tamara a moment to place the woman asking the question, but not long enough to seem like she is avoiding answering.

”I didn't check the bay numbers I just followed the path of lights but I believe mine is the only Phoenix Hawk aboard.”

Oh dont worry the bay is fine. My Mech is at home anyway although I usually dont use it much. Bubba prefers me flying the Raider or the jumpship.
Sarrah smiles sheepishly, hoping she didnt offend Tamara with her question, or make her feel attacked.
No, reason I asked is just that I think its a beautiful Mech. Always been a favorite design of mine.

Jason had found himself a comfortable enough acceleration chair that no one had claimed and had strapped his remaining gear underneath and then strapped in for the ride into space. The trip was far better than some he had been on in the past.

Once the dropship settled into orbit and Bubba made his announcement he decided to take a look around as he made his way to Bay 7. He wasn't all that hungry but he had learned to never pass up food. The bay was crowded when he got there, numerous people chatting and eating. Staying out of the way he nabbed a couple plates and found himself a fairly quiet shadowy corner to eat his meals and listen to the chatter.

Mike and Dar weren't late to dinner; not technically anyway. A last minute snafu during loading the shop had shifted some things, and the pair had actually spent the takeoff in the bay re-securing the contents of the small container, so they'd been there all along, but by the time they emerged from the shop, dinner was in full swing and they had to queue up for rations.

The microwaved meal was at least hot, which was better fare than you usually found in the field, and both men took a moment to thank Sabatino for his hard work before finding the corner of one of the long tables to eat at. Neither man wasted any time devouring the meal with obvious gusto, microwaved rations or not. Darius ended up going back for seconds, and spotted their third on his way back, half concealed behind the massive freebirth elemental. Nadia met his eyes, and shook her head, and Dar had enough sense not to push it.

Sliding back onto the long bench the crew chief glanced up at his pilot. "Something you wanna tell me Mike? Nadia's been actin' like you've got Capellan Crabs since before liftoff."

Kreig lifted his head and looked around. "She's here?" A confirming nod and he sighed, shaking his head. "She's pissed at me Dar, that's all, needs her time to cool off. You know how it is."

Finishing their meal, the two men just sat and watched the goings on in the bay, noticing the cluster that had formed around Eileen and the engine she was working on. The mechbay wasn't really big enough to keep them from following the conversation, and the two shared a look. Darius with an excited gleam as from the sound of it the work was everything they were trying to do on the Dragonfly, and Mike with a look of wide-eyed shock. She was a Ferret pilot? Or Engineer, or something... Mike shook his head and waved to Dar. "Go. You know you want to get stuck in on the details. Learn what you can, just remember, we need a flyable bird, not a hangar project."

Nadia had chosen her place carefully, away from the doors, close to the giant Maximus. Not just for concealment, though that was a benefit, because she wasn't ready to face Kreig again yet. Ever since the Elemental's outburst in the conference room and Colonel Johnsson's explanation her curiosity had been piqued. Picking at her own meal, she watched the giant tear through two, then into a third before she got up the nerve to ask some questions.

"Mr... Blaze was it? I don't want to interrupt your meal," The petite woman dipped her head and chuckled. "Though I suppose I just did. What did Colonel Johnsson mean about you being a freebirth? What does that mean in your culture? And what is an Elemental?"

Tamara doesn't seem bothered by the intrusion, just surprised that anyone would bother.  She doesn't stop eating but does at least swallow before talking.

”Jumpships don't really fly though, they just sit in one place and wait.  It is a pretty mech, I am trying to decide if I need to change the color scheme to something a little bit less obvious.”

Yes captain.  My first time off of the planet.  It is kind of a strange feeling to see the planet from above.

I am hoping that i can make a name here for myself.  Sure i won the tournaments, but i'm sure it is a far cry from what it is like for real.

So whats your name?  I'm Candice.

So true, so true! Sit and jump. We have occasional transit but its usually sit and jump indeed.  And yet they still call it piloting.
Sarrah chuckled. She picked at the microwaved food with a fork, knowing she needed to eat something but feeling rather hesitant.Maybe the Hawk will look nice in the bright Raider red. She's a beauty as it is much like yourself, so she might as well stand out right?

Quit hitting on the lady! the giant snapped at Sarrah between bites. At least give these people some proper time to get settled!
He then turned to face Nadia and gave her a wink, his way of at least indicating she hadn't been a bother.

I am a freebirth indeed.  That is what they call us in the clans when we are born... naturally... instead of engineered from a cryogenics vat. Those they Trueborn. They are of higher standing, because they have been tailor made for the task set out for their specific caste. I was not. Max shrugged.
Officially my name is just Maximus, so please, just call me Max. In the clans we do not have a last name. Only Bloodnames. Which are like a last name, but you have to earn it. As a freebirth... I was last in line to ever earn one. As an elemental, it is hard to ever earn a bloodname anyway.
He finished his third meal and put it aside, contemplating getting a fourth, but they really weren't all that good.
A Clan Elemental is what you would probably consider a combat armoured trooper. Only we live and breathe for it, and our tactics are fully designed to complement Mech warfare and tight quarters. I am actually small for an elemental.
He grinned. But not everywhere.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:14, Mon 06 Mar 2023.

Well, it is noce to meet you Candice. Call me Alex. Alexander McNuir officially. The captain bit is kind of unofficial. I was a captain before my discharge... they stripped off that. Tell me Candice... have you ever been in an actual Mech?
McNuir offered her his hand.

Not Yet Alex, Just been in the simulcades.  So looking at the mechs that are here makes me pretty sure that if i can prove myself good enough, i'll be in a trash can.  Thats fine, better than not being in one.

I'm kind of hoping that during the travel time here i can get some more practice time to see if i am good enough.

Will you look at that, the planet fits in the window already, pretty soon i think it will be little more than a bright dot as we travel to the zenith point.

Of course fighting in a urban mech against a clanner does not leave for a very good chance or odds that is for sure.

Nadia had the good grace to flush a brilliant scarlet at Max's implication, a rosy glow that complemented her dusky complexion well. She took a moment to admire the corded muscles in the Elemental's forearms, easily as big around as her calf. Standing she might be able to look the giant in the breastbone. "If you are merely proportional Max, I would imagine your lady friends all limp away with a smile." A soft laugh followed the comment, for the petite doctor had also served on the front lines and was used to the rough humor of combat troops.

The rest of Max's explanation was less humorous, and her smile faded away at some of the implications. "So Elementals... Trueborn Elementals are bred to be combat troopers? Nothing else? I mean what if a Trueborn Elemental wished to become a... a chef for example." She nodded at Sabatino as the chef walked by, smiling in gratitude for her half-eaten meal. "What becomes of them?" The implication that the Clans bred people just to die as soldiers was a monstrous one to the doctor, and much as she tried to conceal it, there was some heat in her voice.

Maximus looked at Nadia with a look of surprise. Then, without any form of humor in his voice, without any doubt, he simply stated:That will never happen. A chef will never be as honorable as a warrior.
He seemed genuinly surprised, maybe even shocked, at just the thought alone.

---

Come with me, McNuir said to Candice. He didn't even wait as he made his way to the Mech bays.

Skinner spends some time with Three-Fingers going over their shared responsibilities. Clearly Skinner knew the basics and was not afraid to ask questions and to learn as much as he could from the technician. He knew that the techs were the real backbone of any military unit. It doesnt matter how good of a pilot you are if the mechs dont run.

As they were talking he led the conversation into the history of the Raiders and how he got involved with them.

Candice follows Alex where ever he is leading her.

A brow quirked up, and Nadia almost said 'Aha!'. But she was trying to satisfy her curiosity, to learn something of her new teammate, not catch him in a verbal trap. Sitting forward a little Nadia rested her elbows on the table, her slender fingers lacing together under her chin as she continued to contemplate the giant. "Never say never Max. I am quite sure that your former comrades were certain that a Clansman would never choose to turn against their way of life as you have either. But," She brightened a little. "You have answered the question."

Nadia fell silent for a moment, her full lips working as she thought about how to word her next question. "Honor is important to the Clans then? What constitutes honor to them?" The petite latina was struggling with her temper, trying to keep this conversation civil. "Call me uninformed, but what makes a warrior who kills people at the whim of his leader's hunger for territory more honorable than someone who creates beauty and fulfillment for others in the form of delicious meals?" She smiled up at the big man. "And please try not to take offense if I am being pushy, this is just all a very new viewpoint to me. I have spent my career stitching back together the results of warrior's honor, and the idea that somehow that is less noble an effort is alien to me."

Skinner and Three-Fingers spend aome time getting to know each other, while Skinner uses that time to try and gauge just how well of a mechanic the man really is. He seems to know his business though, having served a while in the Lyran commonwealth forces untill his sergeant caught him with his remaining fingers in some coffers he should have kept them out of. It seems to be a returning theme amongst the Raiders. Most are former military, but at least half of them if not more were dishonorably discharged for doing things they shouldn't have.


--- McNuir leads Candice to bay twelve, where the biggest Mech currently on board the dropship has its resting place. It is a bright red Highlander, and he introduces her as his personal ride.
She was mine back when I served with the Northwind Highlanders. Been through a lot me and her. Would you like to try the leather? Climb up there, have a seat. Get a feel for a real cockpit.

---

Maximus shrugs yet again at Nadia's questions.You are not intrusive. I understand fully that the concepts of Clan culture are as foreign to you as 'human' culture was to me...
He lets out a chuckle.
To us Clanners, honor is everything. The concept of honor however differs slightly from yours. Our honor is tightly bound to our combat prowess, that is why a chef can never become as honored as a warrior. Our whole culture, our whole caste system, is set up for the Warrior to be seen as the pinacle of clan society.
He points at Sabatino who is cursing the microwave, the meals and his own inability  to make anything decent of it.
It is not that being a chef is not an honorable job... if one is born into being a chef one should always strive to be the best one there is. Better than any other. That is our way. You should always strive to be the best. Kerensky taught us that. Always be the best you can be, always try to be better than anyone else. It is just that the warrior caste is valued more highly. So even being the lowliest warrior in a way is more favourable than being the best chef ever.
Maximus explains it very matter of factly, almost emotionless. It is clear that to him it is the only way he knows.

Sure i would love to.

Candice climbs up into the cockpit

I assume that this is on safe, so i'm not going to bump something and it turns on right?   This is a lot more complicated than the sims, thats fore sure.   The basics look to be the same though.  Go, stop, Gun aim.

So how does the neurohelmet feel?  what does it feel like?

Jo had waited out the launch in her crash couch, bag strapped in securely. She had traveled off planet enough times that it was not completely foreign, but not so many times that it was familiar or comfortable. Thankfully, it was brief, as was the weightless feeling of 0G before 'gravity' reasserted itself.

While she was still hungry, the sandwich she had had at the conference room had taken the edge off of her hunger. Rather than face a big rush of people to the 'food' bay, she stayed in her bunk a while longer, letting the immediate rush for food pass before unstrapping herself and heading towards mech bay 7.

When Jo arrived, she headed straight for the food, accepting her meal with a smile at their chef. "Warm and plentiful is good 'nough for me. Fancy would be wasted on me. Though I'll certainly give it a try," she added. She then looked around for somewhere to sit and eat, but before she settled on a spot, her eyes found a small gathering of people in what she had earlier identified as the repair shop. No conscious thought was necessary for her feet to turn in that direction. Almost all of her knowledge and skills were self taught, and a large part of that came from watching other people work. Her tour of the ship before launch had shown her technology that was well beyond anything she had ever seen before. And as much as she itched to get her hands on it and start taking things apart, seeing what other Raiders were working on was nearly as good.

She headed for the group of people who had started gathering around where Eileen was working. Noticing Darius was among them, she joined him with a quiet, "Hey," of greeting. She found a spot to lean against the wall and eat her meal as she watched.

Eileen was a little self conscious.  She had opted to do work in the Bay because she was trying to avoid crowds, and yet the crowd gathered anyway.

"Physics is physics.  Test drones are actually pretty good proof of concept to make sure the balance and handling is okay, and a good bit cheaper when something goes wrong.", she answers Cassidy.  Cassidy was okay, but as people gathered in the small bay, there was less and less room to work comfortably.

"I'm just rebuilding the engine.  Not a big deal, it's new so everything is clean and neat.  I know it looks like i'm making a sprawling mess of it, but the materials in the kit are lighter and sprawling mess that it is, should lighten it to half of what it was when it started."

Eileen for the most part seemed to know what she was doing, though she'd look at her schematic from time to time.  While she was following the Kit directions for the most part, she was varying the installation somewhat for her own reasons.

Joining the group a little behind the main thrust, Darius had taken a few minutes to get up to speed. Enough time for Jo to join him as the conversation continued. He favored the tech with a warm smile. "Heya Jo, launch treat you okay?" His attention lingered on her for a moment until Eileen started talking about the rebuild again.

Playing much of what he'd heard so far back through his head, the beefy crew chief let out a low whistle. From the sound of it, Eileen was going about as close to building a new design from the frame up as you could get and still call it a Ferret. He stayed back out of the way, near  where Jo was eating, but called a question to Eileen when there was a lull in the discussion."I'm curious Ma'am, mostly because we're planning on at least the engine conversion on our Ferret. How did you compensate for the center of gravity shift aft with the loss of the turbines for a magnetic motor?"

Left to finish his meal and still mulling over what Nadia had said during loading, Mike was more than happy when Darius ambled over to join the small knot around Eileen's project. Backing away from the table, he caught sight of Nadia finally, apparently deep in conversation with the Elemental they'd met during the interview process, and still with an angry look on her face.

Not the time to prod that wound.

Weaving his way deftly through the crowd, Mike went and found both his and Darius' duffels, along with the black case of his guitar by the shop, wedged in tight between bays One and Twelve. There were a couple more Raiders in bay 12, at the foot of one of the biggest mechs Mike had ever seen, caught up in their own conversation, and the slim pilot didn't interrupt.

Slinging one bag and shouldering the other, Mike picked up his guitar and started back through the crowd, stopping at Darius long enough to let him know he was going to find them bunks before making his way out of the mechbay entirely.

If anything Nadia's scowl deepend, as she tried to understand the alien concepts. The fiery medic had to keep reminding herself that this was a learning process, not a confrontation as her companion elaborated on the culture of the Clans. "us Clanners." "Born into being." "Kerensky." There had been rumors during the Invasion, after the initial "They're Aliens!" scare had passed that the Clans might have had ties to the Exodus some two and a half centuries before, but this was confirmation of that.

When finally she spoke again it was slow and careful. "You still consider yourself a Clanner then Max?"

Eileen thought about it for a moment.  She had designed that problem away, but that wasn't going to be much help for Darius and his conversion.

"I had a brief conversation with Cassidy about that.  For a conventional Ferret refit, there are a few ways to handle it.  The easiest would be to rebalance the center of gravity by simply putting a armor patch or two aft, to load it down and balance the weight ratio.  This has it's own issues, involving aerodynamics and drag, particularly if the ferret comes under fire and the armor is dislodged.  For a commercial application that doesn't come under fire this should be fine."

Eileen thinks about it for a bit, "If you want a more robust method to balance the issue, i would displace some of the fusion engine's heat sinks here to rebalance the issue. It might be a little more work intensive to do but the handling will be more likely to stay intact under combat conditions.  For this displacement to become an issue the engine itself will have to be compromised and the Ferret is damaged that badly, handling issues will be the least of your problems and you should consider ditching."


Most of what Eileen said should make sense, but she was operating from memory for the question and not referring to her Comp Unit for the solution.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:01, Tue 07 Mar 2023.

Colin had spent his time on lift off making sure the servers he had purchased were stored securely in their mobile field racks. The cables and integration nodes were still mostly in boxes. Once they were clear of atmo, Colin began to find his bunk and what might be used as a training office space. Likely he was going to have to set up his gear in a clear corner of a Mech bay or one of the cargo areas. His next goal the TASC-m set up. The Tactical Asset Simulation Computer(mobile) was not a true simulation pod but rather hooked into the actual controls in mechs and combat vehicles to run wargames and training scenarios practicing tactics.

The only thing better was going to be getting the field simulation software calibrated and equipped on all the Raiders assets. Linking to the software to transmitter/receiver communications equipment would allow Colin or any other operator to dynamically run a simulation in the field. Governance signals could make myomer bundles unresponsive to simulate damage. Of course, these training systems had a physical disconnect switch in the cockpit for safety and if something were to happen in the field.

It was likely going to take him hours to get the basic servers up and running plus the software adjusted and calibrated before he could even think of deploying it on any combat units.

Jason finished his two dinners and leaned back against the wall. The cold steel felt good as he sat there listening to the crowd. Apparently Gunbunny had drawn a crowd as she talked about her plans to upgrade a Ferret. She seemed to be in her element and at least she wasn't waving around her hand cannon.

Most everyone else seemed to be getting along decently at the moment. Standing eventually he walked back over to there chef and placed the empty trays in their proper place. "Hey Chef ya need an help with clean up just say so."

It was quickly obvious that Darius wasn’t an engineer, he was more of a hands-on tech. Pulling out his data pad, the big man started taking notes, but it was clear from the look on his face that he was just parroting the words. Smiling, he looked back up at Eileen and waved the data pad. “Hey thanks! I’m sure that will come in handy.” His voice fell, muttering mostly to himself. ”As soon as I figure out what it means.”

Dar stared blankly at the pad for a moment more. ”I have to see it…” He didn’t sound entirely displeased by the notion and tucked the pad back into his pocket, turning and almost bumping into Jo. A little sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head before his smile brightened. “Hey, I’mma go look at the engine on the Dragonfly and see if I can make sense of this. You want to meet my baby?”

Jo looked up at Darius, her smile bright. It still had that slightly crooked lilt to it; at close range, one could see that there was a scar, faint with age, that cut across the right edge of her mouth and around her cheek that was the cause of the lopsided grin. "Launch was fine. Found a bunk for my gear and was very happy to see Moxley IV behind me. The further the better."

Her attention returned to Eileen and Cassidy, listening carefully to the questions and answers. She nodded, mostly to herself. The theory was sound. She would very much like to see it implemented, or better yet, help with doing such. Perhaps now, here, with the Raiders, she would have that opportunity. When it came to fixing things that were broken, she had plenty of experience - but getting to experiment with things, well, that was something that paying customers didn't usually appreciate.

It truly had not occurred to her that she could have used her signing bonus to buy machinery to tinker with. Her own machinery. Tools, yes, but engines? Weapons? Armor? What else hadn't she considered? It was frustrating to realize just how much she didn't know, that she hadn't thought about in her rush to depart. By the next time they were in a city, she would have a comprehensive list.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Dar bumped into her. She looked up with a grin. "I thought you'd never ask!"

Maximus nodded.
I am clan born. Freebirth, but still clan born. That can not ever change. Colonel Johnsson saved my life, so I owe him a blood oath, and I fully intend to repay him. Ever since I have learned a lot about the descendants of Kerensky, and I have learned that while we have many differences, we are not nearly as different as we think. Both our histories are histories of war. The big difference is that we regulated how war is to be fought.
He grabbed a knife from the table, wiped it clean on his fatigues, and then grabbed it by the blade.
Looking at Nadia he squeezed it hard enough to draw blood.
I bleed red blood. So do you. There really isn't much difference.
He then hands Nadia the knife, blood dripping from the serrated edge.

---

McNuir climbed up to the cockpit after Candice, enjoying her first experience in a cockpit almost as much as she did. He remembered his own first time fondly, even though as a whole it hadn't been too good an experience. Her question didn't surprise him.
The neurohelmet... Yeah, the one essential no Mech pilot can go without, but also the one thing none of us really like. It links you up with the gyros and uses your equilibrium as much as that of the Mech itself. That's why first time pilots usually get pretty dizzy and nauseous. It screws with your head, and it takes some getting used to. After a couple of rides though it comes naturally and you don't even notice it anymore. But that first time they release the Mech and you have to keep it standing on your, or rather its own feet... man, that's different.
He handed Candice his own helmet, a green and black camouflaged helmet that seemed to be older than he himself was. It still had the Northwind Highlander markings on it, as well as the name McNuir and a date in white print on the inside. That date was 12-7-2991.

---

Sabatino was fuming when Jason approached him, throwing meal after meal into a garbage can. With every single one he took out of the small makeshift refridgerator his anger grew as he checked the dates and tossed them away.
Ah, yes, Signore Kruger! Si, SI, you can help... Per favore... Spara al frigo! Sparagli a morte!
He kicked the fridge after grabbing yet another outdated meal from it. Another one that went in the trash.
How am I supposed to feed the entire ship if these meals are all three years overdue! Si, si, I know they are frozen... But 3 years! Mama mia!
I still have people coming in to eat, and the big ape there ate four meals all on his own! People will go hungry! The Colonelo has not eaten yet either! I can not let him go hungry can I?

Jason nodded as Sabatino vented, "Yeah that could be a problem. I have the feeling, that even though they say family, that if Bubba ain't happy then no one is happy." He began picking up some of the trash and discarded tray and dropping them in the trash. "So how much food stores are left that are good. I'm sure most of the bunch could do with missing a meal, but twenty four hours is a long time when your hungry."

Nadia’s scowl deepened as she took the knife from Max setting it aside immediately. She took the big man’s hand in both of hers, critically examining the wound. “Seriously? Do you have any idea how many nerves are in your hands?! You won’t be fighting with anything but holding a fork if you sever your medial nerve Max.” The petite Latina’s voice had changed, sharp and commanding now. Her doctor’s voice.

Picking up her fork with her off-hand she lightly jabbed the meat just above the cut, watching how the fingers moved before she sighed and set the fork aside. “Luckily you didn’t get it this time. Look Max, in some ways you’re right,” Reaching down into her thigh pocket, Nadia pulled out a bandanna, green and red and embroidered in gold with the letters ‘317th SARG’ in the center and began swiftly and professionally tying it around the meaty hand, staunching the blood. “Our cultures aren’t that different, warriors are important in a galaxy at war. But what happens when the war is over? What does your society do when the fighting is finished?”

Tying the makeshift bandage as tight as she could, Nadia looked up and met Max’s eyes. “That rag is filthy, but it will do long enough for you and I to get to medical, so I can take care of it right. You might need stitches.” A wry little smile crossed her face for just a second. “Next time you feel the need to prove to me that we’re the same on the inside, maybe cut back here.” Nadia ran a finger along the back of Max’s forearm, noticing once again just how dense the muscles and tendons were. “Ligaments are easier to fix than nerves. Now which way is medical?”

All of it! At least in this fridge it is all bad! Its stupido! So much food this morning, but nothing on board!
Giordano slams the door of the small mobile fridge shut and pushes it aside. Then he walks over to a door that leads to a small storage room that holds three more of those fridges. He starts pulling out another one, hesitant to open it.
If this is the same I am going to be demonico!

Jason having finished with most of the trash walked over to the store room. He shrugged, "Well yer not gonna know unless ya check. May as well check now and if they are all the same, peoples just gonna have to tighten their belts."

He stepped past Sabatino and opened the farthest fridge and started checking dates. "So how old would still be acceptable?"

Eileen was reluctant to just up and get something to eat, it was her engine, kit, and project, but Cassidy seemed to know what he was doing and in the brief time she got food, could only go off the rails so far.  It's been... weeks... maybe months since she's had someone to work with.

By now, she should have picked up Cassidy's name, and traded her own for it.  Everyone else in the crowd was just a blur of faces that made up visual white noise to her for now.  She noted them, particularly the ones she had already nick named, but there were new faces there too.

"I'm going to take a short break to grab some food.", she comments to Cassidy, while wiping her hands on a red bandana looped around a belt loop.

"Try not to break anything, i dont have any spares.", she played it off as a joke, but it was also part serious and part prayer.  Aside from cost, the time to replace the parts would set things back quite a bit.  Transit time like this was the best time to do maintenance and refits.  Once they got to where ever they went, who knew what was going to happen.

She makes certain to take her Comp Unit with her, but is okay leaving her working tools, the kit, and the engine out for Cassidy to work with.  She was only going to be away for five or ten minutes.  Now that she was thinking about it, and smelling it, she realized she was hungry.  The last time she had eaten anything was before she had gotten on the union, and the last full meal she ate was at this morning's orientation.

A Union is a big ship, but not so big that the narrow gap between bays 1 and 2 was more than thirty seconds walk. Gesturing grandly at the slim form packed between the cavernous mech bays Darius grinned. “Jo, I’d like you to meet my pride and joy, Ophelia’s Dragonfly. ‘Phelia, this is Jo.”

A Ferret helicopter isn’t much to look at, not in a world of 12 meter tall war machines. Barely larger than a big passenger van, and painted in drab camouflage, it looked spindly and delicate next to the gigantic Highlander berthed in bay 1, but Dar’s voice had nothing but pride for the little helicopter. Moving down one side of the bird, he started undoing latches and swung up one side of the rear fuselage, just behind the sliding door for the cargo bay. “Don’t think you came to see the outside though, you’re here for the sexy bits.” A laugh and a wave invited his fellow tech into the innards of ‘his’ helicopter.

What does the date mean to you?  I would guess it means something as i doubt you would leave it for 50 years.

Is there a way to work on some practice while we are in transit? Are there simlators or something on the ship? I would hate to waste weeks while traveling if we dont have to.

Colin continued to set up his equipment after moving to the unoccupied area of the Hangar Bay. Various comms and training gear littered the area around him. The temporary console that he was using to interface with the equipment was currently paused at the 44% for the second time. The interface lurched forward on the progress bar and paused again. Colin rubbed his temples. “Please, just load. I don’t want to fight you,” he groaned as he looked down at the diagnostic scanner in his hand that was feeding lines of code and color coordinated them for ease of reading.

Skinner spent his time with Three-Fingers chatting and assisting wherever the man needed an extra set of hands.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:45, Wed 08 Mar 2023.

"Well hello, beautiful," Jo murmured, her eyes tracing the lines of the small craft. Size was not everything - Jo could attest to that. Much more impressive was the obvious care that the Dragonfly had enjoyed. It showed in every line, every meticulously cared for inch of plating. No shoddy patch jobs or cracked weld lines. Even had Darius not spoken about the helicopter with the care that he did, his affection for her would have shone through in the way the Ferret was maintained.

"Are you sure?" Jo asked when he invited her into the helicopter. She was already lifting herself in though, eager to poke around. Most of the vehicles she had been working on recently were shoddy old things, falling apart because of little to no maintenance. It would be a treat to get her hands on something like this. Not that she would do more than look, but still, it was a far cry from what she was used to.

As soon as she was inside, she started spouting questions - how did she handle? What had he done to deal with some of the Ferret's design flaws? What had he changed from the stock model and what was the same, and why? Once the questions started, they would continue at a rapidfire pace for as long as Darius would answer them.

As Jo started to inspect his charge, Dar hovered a little maternally at first, but the smaller tech handled his baby with all the respect he did. Ophelia was in good hands. Flipping down one of the canvas and pipe seats that folded against the front of the cabin, Dar took a seat, stretching out a little as he watched Jo poke around inside the engine.

His smile was broad and genuine as he tried to answer the flurry of questions as best he could. "She handles, oh she handles. Flat out, she'll just brush two hundred fifty kays, and Mike can stop her on a kroner and get back change." A chuckle of amusement at the minor exaggeration, but the questions kept coming. "We haven't done a lot of major modifications to her, she's still a stock Ferret. Mostly what you'd call cosmetic stuff to support our work." He pointed out the quick-release points for seats like the one he was occupying for troop transport, stretchers for medevac, and attachments at the doors for door gunners. "I did make a couple of key improvements, though. The chattergun under the nose is on pins, so we can pull it in thirty minutes and fill the mount with a spotlight for search and rescue work. Keeps the mount intact so the light still follows the pilot's head movements. And we added a mounting point by the port door to add a boom crane. The same size you'd use to pull engines in a ground car, but it lets us lower a basket to pick people out of places even Ophelia can't go."

"We haven't done a lot to address her design flaws. There's just not a lot you can do to a multirole bird this size without compromising one or most of those roles, but we've been talking for a while about replacing all of that..." He waved to the engine compartment a little wistfully. "With an Omni 25 fusion bottle. Problem is, I'm not an engineer, and fusion plants are just different. We've got the bottle now, sitting in the shop, but there's not an instruction manual on how to install one on here. That and without knowing where we're going and how much time we have, Kreig's hesitant to do the conversion without some time to fly test it. Sensible, but if we never start, it's never going to happen. I have fixed one glaring flaw in 'Phelia's design, though."

Chuckling, Dar reached under the jumpseat and undid a couple of catches, revealing a small compartment, just big enough for a small drawer that he pulled out. Inside, nestled in construction foam, were six bottles of Timbiqui Dark, protected against the rigors of flight. He pulled out a pair and twisted the top off one. "There was no place to keep technician lubricant on board, and you can't work on one of these without it. Hope you don't mind 'em warm." A big hand extended out to Jo, offering the other bottle of beer.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:39, Wed 08 Mar 2023.

As his teammates tried to connect with the other members of the Raiders, Mike found himself alone on the berthing deck hunting through cabins until he found one of the last unoccupied twin bunks and dumped off the duffels, giving his big tech the bottom bunk. No sense in Dar ending up in the infirmary with a concussion from sitting up. Setting the case on his bunk, Mike flicked the catches and pulled out the guitar nestled within.

With one hand around the neck of the instrument, Mike went searching. Every Union is different, but in some ways, they're all the same. Sure enough, at the end of one of the halls, he found an air filter intake with a sealed bucket next to it. Tucking himself into a corner against one of the structural braces, he flipped up the lid of the bucket to reveal the sand and butts within.

Two minutes later and the slender pilot was picking away at his guitar, soft music drifting down the hall as he smoked, blissfully sheltered from the mad world around him behind a wall of flamenco music.

OOC Edit: Something like this. https://youtu.be/D74-4dN5Iag?list=RDQM3VullBmME-M
This message was last edited by the player at 09:59, Wed 08 Mar 2023.

Jo listened to every word as Darius described the work he'd done on the helicopter. As he spoke, she moved around, seeking out the changes he mentioned, looking at how they'd been done. She hummed softly to herself as she went, nodding in approval. Even though she had had no real reason to believe it, her immediate impression of Darius had been one of competence. His work showed that her assessment had been spot on.

"Smart," she murmured, examining how the gun was mounted. Versatile yet stable, the possibilities were vast.

Fusion... it would be a game changer for the VToL. "Who needs an instruction manual?" she said with a laugh. "Let me help, as soon as we know we have a few minutes, and we'll get it installed and her flying again in no time."

Jo accepted the offered bottle, twisted off the top, and held it out towards Darius. "A toast? To new jobs and to new friends."

Darius looked a little abashed and glanced at the floor as Jo laughed lightly. His reply was almost too quiet to hear. "I do..." He brightened up immediately at the offer however, and his head came back up. "To quote a fine tech I met once... I thought you'd never ask!" Chuckling he clinked his beer bottle against hers and took a long pull of beer, sitting back with a satisfied sigh.

"To new jobs, new friends, and a new Ophelia."

Eileen was getting some food at this point, quick and edible was what she was looking for.

Minimum fuss and mess, so that she can back to work.

It was hard not to notice that Sabatino looked a little stressed.

"Is everything okay Sabatino?", she asks curious.

As Jason starts to check the meals he discovers that these are at least sort of current, their expiration dates set on 3052. Made up of some kind of mash and some indiscernible meat Sabatino doesn’t seem too pleased with the find, but it is at least food.
‘I know about as much about the colonelo as you do,’ he tells Jason as he looks around some cabinets for anything to spice up the food with.. ‘But he comes across as a decent enough man. Running a company like this I imagine is much like running a cucina… stressful.’

He then hears the question coming from Eileen and throws his hands in the air in frustration.
Si, si, everything is okiedokie! We have five year old food, no spices, and a ship full of people that need to be fed! Perfectly fine here yes!

---

Staring at his hand the giant elemental shrugs. He studies how the blood runs down his wrist while he listens to Nadia’s remark and watches as she ties the rag around it. When she’s done he simply states: ‘There’s a first aid kit in those blue cabinets in the hallways. There’s several on board. We don’t have a full medical on the Raider.’
‘And that is something we should remedy’ a man across him at the table states. ‘But I will have a look at that hand right now. I’m William by the way,’ he turns to Nadia. ‘The company doctor of sorts.’
He walks to the nearest bulkhead and opens the cabinet, grabbing a small medikit he then puts on the table. Quickly and with experienced hands he goes to work.
‘The trouble with Maximus here is that he doesn’t care about the pain, he doesn’t care about potential nerve damage, and he especially doesn’t care about whatever is going to happen if the fighting is ever over for him,’ Willy explains to Nadia. ‘His whole life he has been fighting…

Hand me those scissors please?
You see, their entire society works in a different way. For us, if we wish to grow ourselves, better ourselves, we strive to look for better positions. We climb the ranks based on our merits, our superiors recognise our skills or lack thereof, and we get promotions accordingly.
For them, that is not how it works…’
‘Trials,’ Maximus adds. ‘We have trials to climb rank. Win, and you gain power. Doesn’t matter if you are skilled. Only thing that matters is to beat the one that has what you want.’
‘Yes,’ Doc Willy agrees. ‘So for Maximus here, a society without fighting… is not just unimaginable... It is impossible.'
There, all wrapped up. Try not to deliberately cut yourself again will you? It will likely leave a bit of a scar.’
The Giant shrugged.
‘Another one for the books then doc, got enough of those already.’

---

Alex didn’t immediately answer Candice as she asked about the date. It was only a moment of hesitation, but it was there. When he answered, his tone was less upbeat.
‘I’m only twenty-eight, there’s no way I could have had that helmet for fifty years even if I wanted to. The date is… It’s my father’s birth date. The helmet was his original. By the time I joined the Highlanders they didn’t put your birth date in your helmet anymore.’
He leaned into the cockpit and flipped a switch, causing the seat to unlock its links and balance only on the gyro to keep balanced.
‘There, she’s in your hands now essentially. The Mech itself is locked in the bay, but the seat will tell you her balance. Try to get a feel for her, keep her stable. Then when you get a feel for that, try it again with the helmet. Feel the difference. And don’t worry about getting a bit nauseous, that’s normal at first.’


---

Eileen thinks about that, "Its only ... a 24 hour trip, is that really a problem, people will be cranky about missing a meal here and there but they'll hardly starve over missing a day?  Is there really nothing left?", it would be short sighted to serve this much food 'now' if there was no food at all.  She had her camping field rations, and supplies, enough for herself to be in the field for a prolonged period of time, but she wasn't sure it was necessary or even welcome to offer at this point.

Jason shrugged, "That's what I told him. No ones gonna starve in twenty four hours. Just finish up serving those who haven't eaten and save the rest for one more meal later. We will get by."

The little guy was probably a great cook, but he sure liked to over dramatize things. Jason figured there may even be some supplies stored away aboard that were for the base but didn't want Sabatino to go looking. "When we get to base you can take stock there and then fix up something to make amends." Unless of course what was stored at base was more of the same, but no need to worry the little guy.

Eileen thinks about it and shrugs, "I actually brought a bunch of field rations and camping supplies with my part of my sign on bonus.  Along with my personal supplies, if i'm reimburse and if the Colonel can assure me that i can restock what i turn over at the base, i dont mind turning them over.  For such a short term emergency it should be fine.

Eileen shrugs, "They're only camping rations and my store of cooking supplies, but they're probably better than expired and rancid provisions that will put everyone in the sick bay for a few days with the runs."

Nadia smiled a little as William introduced himself and sat back as the older man took over tending the wound in Max's hand, just absorbing the explanation for the moment. It was a very different concept, fighting for anything you wanted. The sort of society that violent men and women would build. Her mind was racing, but she watched the stitching with a critical eye, evaluating William's skill and finding it satisfactory. "Then it looks like you are probably who I'll be reporting to, William. Doctor Nadia Franz." She offered a slender hand once he finished stitching Max up.

Looking up at the gigantic Maximus, then back to William, she tried to ensure she had the concept. "So if I understand it... If, for instance, I wanted to be the company doctor. Speaking hypothetically, of course." A quick flash of a grin at William. "As a Clansman, I would have to challenge William here to a Trial and beat him in some form of combat to prove I'm a better doctor? It wouldn't matter if I actually was, just that I was able to club him over the head before he clubbed me?"

She shook her head, confused. "That sounds like a Maslow problem." Elaborating a little, she explained. "Maslow was an ancient philosopher, from back when we were Terrabound I think, who said. "If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail." A soft sigh. "I think I would fail in your society Max, because I took an oath too, when I became a doctor. An oath to Do No Harm. The same oath doctors have been taking since Ancient Greece. So no matter how fine a doctor I became, I would always be relegated to the lowest ranks of your society because my oath forbids me from undergoing these trials to gain rank."

Stretching out his legs, Darius gestured with the neck of the bottle towards the compact engine that powered Ophelia. "You've definitely got the touch for engines, Jo. Not something most ladies enjoy, getting greasy and dirty." He smiled broadly, a hint of teeth showing. "How'd you come to it? And what on earth convinced you that joining a merc company was the place to practice? A good tech could be making big bucks on Solaris or in a House maintenance corps."

The mech if it was not locked in place would probably have fallen over.  It takes a while to get the balance stabilized so the mech would have stayed upright.

Oh that is awful,  I really hope that gets better.  Nausea and disorientation is kind of an understatement.  I kind of got it a little better now.

Candice takes her time to do some small movements and other things she can do to get used to the mech.

Sorry to hear about your father.   Maybe if you knew what mech i would actually be likely to be assigned to, we could try that one sometime.

Jo took a long swig from the beer in her hand, then sat back with a contented sigh. "That is the most brilliant mod I've ever seen," she said lightly. "Compact and useful. Very smart."

His question ellicited a shrug, followed by another pull from her bottle before answering. "Well, I grew up where everything was dirty and greasy, so it's what I know. And engines have always kind of... spoken to me. Any kind of machinery does, really. I know that sounds ridiculous."

That crooked grin flashed again. "My learning is all hands on, the take-it-apart-and-hope-it-goes-back-together kind. No fancy schools or trainin', the big companies don't want grease rats like me."

Another sip, followed by a conspiratorial wink. "That's my secret, of course, and why I don't like instruction manuals. Half of it makes no sense to me anyways. But once I get my hands on the problem, I can always fix it, training or no."

She waved her hand, changing subjects. "Enough about me. What about you? How long've you and Ophelia been together? How'd you and your crew meet?"

Colin caught himself for the upteenth time as he stumbled over his duffle and personal gear. Every time he tripped, he had moved the stuff somewhere else only for it to be in the way again. Looking at the console status bar ticking slowly up, Colin figure now was probably as good a time as any to find a rack and store his personals.

Making sure everything was secure before leaving, Colin quickly got lost in the maze that was the drop ship. It wasn’t long before he heard what sounded to be music. He looked at one of the wall mounted speakers and confirmed that the Colonel hadn’t suddenly decided to add a soundtrack to the voyage. Colin followed the music as best he could. Soon enough he came upon the source, one of the VTOL crew if he remembered right.

Rather than interrupt the music, and spying the sand can, Colin gestured to an empty spot and waited to see if the man was in the mood for some company.

The big crew chief smiled "I don't think it sounds ridiculous at all Jo; some techs just have the touch. Met one or two in my time. As for me..." Resting comfortably against the bulkhead, Dar looked around the little chopper for a minute, remembering. "I suppose some of my story is like yours. Grew up dirty, Hoag's World, a completely forgettable dirtball up in the northwest corner of the Alliance." He said it lightly, but there was a note of pain in his voice. That whole sector of space was Clan territory now.

"Dad was a dirt farmer and shade tree mechanic, so I spent a fair bit of time when I wasn't shoveling sorghum holding the flashlight while he worked on the tractor. I thought we were kings, had the only tractor for fifty clicks, and Dad probably replaced every piece of that ol' Deere five times over while I was growin' up." He chuckled a little and drank some more beer. "And I wanted nothing but to get off that world, out of that life, so when I turned eighteen, I walked straight off the farm and into the Army recruiting station. Back in '46 or so." He grinned and shook his head tiredly. "Bought every one of their "Serve the Alliance and see the stars." spiels hook, line, and sinker."

Almost without thinking, his free hand was stroking the fuselage next to the door possessively. "Somehow, I ended up testing out well enough not to end up in the infantry and got fast-tracked into being a crew chief. Got assigned to Ophelia then, though she didn't have a name 'til Doc gave it to her. I... Well, I was going to do my tour, take my skills and go civvie, but around that time, the Clans showed up, and they weren't letting anyone end their term for obvious reasons."

"Ophelia and I got assigned to the 317th Search and Rescue Group, attached to the 19th Lyran Guard. Four Ferrets, pilots, medics, and techs. Just a dozen of us, but we flew a lot of hours during the invasion. That's when I met Mike and Nadia. Lots of medevacs, pilot recovery, and recon flights." Darius was rambling just a little. "You spend that much time facing death with only this..." He rapped the fuselage lightly. "Between you and it, you sort of get attached to it and everyone you live with."

He sighed softly. "After the Nineteenth got wiped out, the remains of the 317th got dissolved, but rather than let them break us up, Doc leased Ophelia, hired Mike and I to run her, and we went freelance. Doing a lot of the same stuff we were doing in the service, just for pay. Emergency medical, ambulance work, firefighting, search, and rescue. We ended up on Moxley, and just about at the end of our credits when Mike found this gig." Dar drained off the last of his beer and set the bottle aside. "And then I met you." He laughed. "Which is the brightest point of a bright day."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:57, Fri 10 Mar 2023.

With a half-smoked butt hanging from his lips and fingers playing over the strings, Mike didn't hear the other man at first, only noticing him when he gestured at the open spot. He smiled and nodded, bringing the music to a stop for a moment so he could set the guitar aside. "Floor space is open to all, last I checked, friend. Pull up a patch if you want." He looked the wiry man over for a moment before offering a hand. "Michael Krieg, it's nice to meet you."

Colin returned the handshake, “Colin Browne,” he said as he sat and opened his duffle. While he appeared to be rummaging around for something, Colin continued the conversation. “Still trying to find my footing and a bunk. First time in a Union. Ahh!”, he exclaimed and pulled a leathery, cylindrical case out. He opened it and removed a well crafted church warden pipe and something to light it with. “Da’ always said to save it for the big occasions. Seems a life long contract as good an excuse as any,” he commented as he began to pack, light, and join Michael in a peaceful smoke.

Taking the opportunity to ash into the bucket, Mike picked the guitar back up as Colin got himself sorted. Nodding, he plucked a couple of strings, frowned, and reached up to twist one of the tuning pegs a little bit. "Yeah, I suppose this is a special occasion after all, isn't it?" Chuckling a little, he started to play again, softer now, so it didn't interfere with talking. "Your first time on a Union? If you don't mind my asking, what did Bubba," Krieg winced a little inside every time he said that name. "Hire you on as Colin?"

Maximus shook his head as he heard Nadia talk about her oath. He clearly had a different opinion.Tell me then, he said with a grim smile, Let's say I go down in battle, and you need to patch me up, but while doing so we both are attacked by enemies. Only way to save me, your patient, is to kill the attackers... What would you do then?
He waited patiently for Nadia to think of an answer.

---

As soon as we get home we'll probably start running patrols and recon, Alexander mused. We won't risk a brand new warrior on a risky mission though, so I'll make sure you get a protection duty. Likely start you off in a Commando or Panther. We won't bother you with either of the Urbies.
He laughed.
Start a new Mechwarrior in an UrbanMech and they'll soon want to quit entirely. Those things are the worst Mechs to be assigned to. Cannons on legs essentially. You'll see the Mechs soon as we get there. Who knows, if you prove to be as good in the real deal as you are in the sims, you can get the Rifleman...

Nadia didn't even hesitate, her dark eyes blazing with emotion. "I would tend to my patient until they killed me, Max." She shook her head. Did he think this was first-year ethics? "The same way I did every day I served on the front of the invasion. I carry no weapons; I never have. I only have training in how to use them because the Army required it of me."

She picked up the bloody survival knife and, using the same bandana that she'd used to tie Max's hand, started to wipe the blood off of it. "I served and fought, yes fought, for two years in an active warzone to keep people alive. I didn't always succeed. No doctor worthy of the title does. I've held a man's heart, and pumped it with my hands while he bled to death around us, trying to keep him alive."

Nadia's voice was cold, and severe, matching the disdain in her gaze. "I've touched death more intimately than any of your warriors can claim, and never once, not once, did I need a weapon to do it. There will never be a shortage of men willing to take up the power of a gun." She offered the big blade to Max, hilt first, not a tremble in it. "So you tell me, Max, who has more honor? The warriors willing to kill an unarmed woman for the crime of trying to save their enemy's life, or the doctor who is willing to die, defenseless and alone, trying to save a stranger's life."

In reply to Michael Krieg (msg # 71):

Colin stoked the pipe, clearing some lodged debris from the mouthpiece. He thought for a moment before answering the question. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Notionally? I can be a BattleMech pilot. Realistically? I’m not sure that would work out. My training scores were par at best. Barely enough to graduate the training. I know that my instructors would have preferred me to pick something like infantry or the diplomatic corps to get me out of their hair,” he paused as he took a pull from the pipe. “So, we will see what the Colonel has in store for me. How about you?”

Eileen was good with whatever Sabatino decided.  Truth if he declines her offer, it was less work and paper work for her.  Hearing this news, she decides to take a second helping of food to eat her fill now, since this might be 'it' for a while.

Through sated... she's in a more liersurely mood when she returns to finish work on the engine conversion.  She's done low to no gravity work before which had it's pros and cons.  Moving massive equipment around in low gravity was so much easier to get at those odd places, the wrinkle was when gravity changed unexpectedly and you were still under that equipment it could get... messy.

Calcuations had her figure about 20~25 hours of work to finish the convertion.  Less that if Cassady was going to help her which should have her finishing off most of the work before they made planet fall... or moon fall... Enough time to pack up the engine for finalization and maybe... work out some munitions for the Lunar mission.

Jason stuck around for a bit, helping Sabatino trash what was bad and restore what was still usable. The little guy seemed o complain the whole time. When done he stowed the trash in its proper place and made sure it was secure. Some people might get upset if they got hit by lose trash during zero-g.

After wards he went back and collected his things before wandering around looking for an open berth. Eventually he found one. He secured his belongings and stretched out as best he could in the lower bunk. It didn't take long before he was asleep.

Michael's brows rose a little bit as Colin explained, or in this case, didn't explain his position with the company. Bubba's Raiders got stranger with every interaction he had with them, and he was questioning once again his decision to sign on. Hopefully, there would be some answers and maybe some structure once they arrived at their destination. Still he managed a smile at the rather impressive scores. "Par for a Mechwarrior is an eagle for a conventional pilot Colin; maybe you should reconsider not being a Mech jock." Kreig chuckled and finished his cigarette, snuffing the glowing coal in the sand.

"Me? I'm a VToL pilot. Karnov's and Ferrets mostly. I can fly the Warrior, but I'm not current on my hours with it. Right now, I fly a Ferret, so I think... Or at least I hope the Colonel hired my team to fly reconnaissance and small unit support." He laughed softly. "He'd be better served to put the cook in an Urbie and send him into battle than hope a Ferret can be a gunship."

Colin chuckled a bit and resumed smoking his pipe. "Maybe I will. My real passion is tactics and training. Raw analytics is not my strong suit, but being able to see the bigger picture and act accordingly? That's the true skill. I'm glad to hear that you are looking for scouting opportunities. I am actually finishing my setup of the field sim server. I am hoping that my investment will let us work on coordination in a tighter timeline than most units have. With the enemy breathing down our necks, we can't afford to waste any time," he said and trailed off.

"Sorry, they let me into a Mobile HQ once for a training tour and it's been my goal to get back into one. Hell, if I hadn't been drummed out for losing that Jagermech to a pair of lights, I might actually have been in one by now. And I get the Ferret isn't a stock gunship, but most of the time, a properly placed scout with comm gear can be more valuable than any weapon, especially if there is a Long Tom or Sniper at the other end of the line," Colin finished with a smile.

When Three-Fingers headed to get chow Skinner head to find some of the other new members of the Raiders, he walked in on the conversation which piqued his interest.

"Is this seat taken." He inquired of Browne and Krieg.

Mike set the guitar aside and leaned back against the brace he was sitting against, considering Colin's words. A training officer? It wasn't a bad idea, just a surprising one at this level of command. "Most company-sized units don't spring for C3 positions." He nodded. "Of course, most of them think a bug mech or two is a proper recon element, so maybe Colonel Johnsson is on to something. I know my wallet isn't complaining."

He chuckled commiseratingly at the loss of the Jagermech. "I feel for your loss there, but I can believe it. Old Hanse Davion has had a lot of good, clever ideas in his day, but the Jagermech ain't one of them, though I'm sure the board of Magna Fusion appreciates his losing that many of their fusion plants in combat. A Jager is a damn deathtrap if you ask me, and the only ones that should be assigned one are the fools that bring the Hauptman's daughter back late from a date with her shirt buttoned crooked."

Looking up at the new arrival to the conversation Mike shook his head. "Like I told Colin, floorspace is free to all, as long as you don't mind bad guitar and smoke. Have a seat. I'm Michael Kreig, good to meet you." Chuckling, Mike picked his guitar back up and tucked into it, lightly strumming the strings before looking back up to Colin.

"So what's a field sim server, and what does it do for the unit?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:18, Fri 10 Mar 2023.

"Welcome to the smoke pit. Colin Browne," he said to the newcomer. Turning back to Michael, he had a shit-eating grin on his face. "Field sim servers act as a hub and processor for near-combat exercises. By mounting sim equipment to each unit participating and feeding the information to the server, any training we do will be as close to live combat as you can get. For Mechs, myomer bundles become unresponsive to simulate battle damage. Combat vehicles lose mobility and functionality. Hell, with enough server capacity and sim modules we could even outfit combat to the individual infantry level. Of course all of this as a manual disconnect and redundant disconnect in easy reach. Don't want to cripple a unit for real. Plus, early adopters found out that if you didn't have a disconnect, advanced EW could mess with your inputs."

"My goal would be to get information about the clans and load it up into the sim. All combat units get HUD and sensor overlays with the training program running and ...boom! Instant clan training exercises. Or as best as we can replicate. I have enough combat footage and sensor data for standard House units. I really need input from the big guy, an Elemental is what the Colonel said? That and once we engage in live combat I can tailor the software and tactics to our..." he trailed off as he realized he was rambling. "Sorry."

"Skinner. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you both."

Skinner takes a seat listening to the conversation. He wasnt a tech by any stretch so he was hoping to learn from Krieg who knew quite a bit it appeared. But he wanted. like Colin to know about the clans. "I would be game. Anything to make us better because we are going to need it. Money doesnt mean shit when we are exchanging PPC fire. I want to pick his brain. Seems pretty early to be trusting a clanner thats betraying his own people."

Colin's effusive explanation was a good distraction for Kreig to fish another smoke out of his pack and start playing again. Nimble fingers danced across the strings, plucking a quiet rhythm to accompany the data dump. Despite his head being down, looking at the vibrating strings of his guitar, Michael was paying full attention to the conversation and looked up as Skinner vocalized his distrust. "You're not wrong I don't think Skinner, but I'm kind of the opinion that Bubba," A small shake of the head. "Has probably done that, or he wouldn't have started hiring to enact a plan. I mean, yeah, I think we keep our eyes open and our ears sharp, but giving 'em the third-degree isn't going to get anyone to open up."

He considered Colin's explanation of what he was trying to accomplish with his simulator and suddenly it struck him that he might be able to help. "Y'know, Colin, my team and I flew recon for the 19th Lyran during the invasion, and when we leased the Dragonfly, I don't recall them wiping the computers. It may not be as good as you can get out of Max or Colonel Johnsson, but you might be able to pull at least baseline performance stuff for the Clans off her sensor logs. Speed, weight, stuff like that. Might be able to extrapolate weapon ranges and performance, but I'll warn you, any time I saw a hostile Mech, I was quick to vacate."

Colin closed his eyes in thought and waggled a finger at the air. "Actually, that would be fantastic. Even profiles of units would be great to have since the intelligence of the Great House forces is keeping that stuff locked up tight. As to your point, Skinner. We don't have to trust him but we can verify the data he gives us. Keep the Dragonfly's sensor and combat readings air-gapped from any information that the Colonel or Max gives us. Compare notes afterward. Unless the clans have a level of EW and camouflage tech that rivals that of the Star League, we should be able to get an accurate idea of the capabilities of the cross-referenced units," he concludes as he shifted himself to be more comfortable and refilled his pipe.

He looked somewhat sheepish as he glanced at the two other men. "If you don't mind me asking, what was it like on the front lines with them? I left the service before the action kicked off and all I have seen so far are the dark net videos from people evacuating."

"I didnt see any direct combat with them. But my unit did. I was in the command headquarters in the company operations cell. Jade Falcon tore through our lines like they weren't even there." He is matter of fact. No emotion. It was clear that there was a seething hatred for the clans.

Kreig didn't answer the question at first, his eyes closing while his fingers continued on autopilot. There were long minutes after Colin asked and Roland answered that he didn't do anything but play his guitar and smoke.

Just remembering.

"I mostly saw the before and the after of fighting them." He was talking to the grating more than anyone else in the small circle. "At first... Well, to say they went through us like grain through a goose is an understatement. A lot of the guys in the 19th felt like we were little kids, throwing rocks at tanks for all the good it was doing us to fight back." Michael switched songs, something slower, more somber. "I remember the smell of burning myomer and carbide when we'd make a hot recovery more than I remember anything that makes a good story, Colin. Do you have any idea how hot you have to get ferro-steel to make it catch fire?" He shook his head somberly.

"It got better after the upgrades started hitting the field; we could hurt them then. Make them pay for the ground they were taking. Slow them down, but we never stopped them, not in a straight-up fight." Krieg stopped for a moment to flick the long ash off his smoke into the bucket before he resumed playing and talking. "Heard someone managed to stop them cold at Twycross, but it wasn't us. We were too busy bleeding and dying." He fell silent again, taking a long drag off his cigarette.

A long trail of smoke jetted out of his nostrils, and he covered the strings on the guitar, silencing it. "Look, I don't mind telling you about the invasion, in all its gory details, but I probably need a bottle or two of whiskey to do it properly. Until we find one, or I raid our supplies, d'you mind if we maybe stay in the present? I don't want to sound too hopeful or like some wide-eyed kid, but if this plan of Colonel Johnsson's is legit, maybe we should be talking about how to make it happen. Would mean a lot less bleeding and dying for everyone."

Colin looked somber as Michael spoke. He hung his head like a shamed dog. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I’ve only been in combat once and that was years ago. I forget that it’s a rough memory for most and not a simple simulation or wargame that I’m running. They don’t teach you that in Filtvelt. That there are people behind the mock ups and casualty counts. I can’t imagine what you went through. What either of you have been through.”

Michael caught the hangdog expression on Colin's face and frowned.

Shit.

Dammit, Nadz had been right when she told him he needed help, but he'd opened his big mouth. Sliding a boot across the aisle and lightly kicking the sole of Colin's boot, he ventured a smile. "Nah, don't worry about it, man. Doc's been telling me for a while now I need my head examined." He chuckled. "And she's probably right, but I'll be damned if I let some witch doctor in to make me talk about my mother or whatever they do these days to make you get all touchy-feely."

He stood the guitar up against the structural brace he'd been leaning against and looked more seriously at the C³ specialist. "Look. why don't we start with the nice sterile bits, get the sensor logs off the Dragonfly and get them loaded onto your servers? I'll go through the gun camera footage with you and tell you what I can about what it's showing us. Don't know how much help anecdotes will be for your simulations, but it's a start."

Colin tapped out the ash in the bucket and carefully put away his pipe. He nodded as he gave a half hearted smile. “Sure thing. The initial compiling is probably done by now. Skinner, care to join?”

“Sure. I don’t know how much time we have before we get to where we’re going. But anything is better than running diagnostics on my Mac over and over and over again. And I’d like to see those gunsight cameras as well.” He said rising.

Don't leave on my account gentlemen...
Buford Johnsson had heard the flamenco music, and his interest had been peaked. So he had lit a cigar that was firmly planted in the left corner of his mouth, grabbed his ukelele, and had found the small smoking corner the men had been talking in. And just as he entered, they seemed to be leaving.
I hope I didn't chase you away
He held up the archaic instrument.
You haven't even heard me murder music yet

Maximus nodded in understanding
I can respect that, he said after Nadia explained she would die for her patients. I do want to add that we, being we the clans, do not normally kill wounded. That's more of an Inner Sphere thing. As soon as an opponent down and no longer capable of fighting he is considered defeated and there is no honor in taking them out.  We are a culture of warriors yes, but honor stands high for us. That is why we do a bidding before we attack. Have you heard about that concept?

When Eileen returned Cassidy called her over to the console he had been working on. He pulled up some schematics that seemed bases on a clan tank and zoomed
in on its engine section. I just found these blueprints in this system for a clan XL. A lot of it seems foreign to me, but maybe you or that other mechanic can make something of it? I fear my age works against me on this, it looks like mumbo-jumbo to me...

Kreig was just standing up when the Colonel rounded the corner, and he slid naturally from standing to standing at ease. "Not at all, Colonel." He wouldn't, couldn't call him Bubba... Not his superior officer. "We were just discussing Colin's simulator and its applications, and I suggested adding some old data off the Dragonfly." He glanced down at the instrument in the taller man's hand and smiled before looking at Skinner and Colin.

"Why don't you two go on ahead without me? The Dragonfly is next to bay one in cargo, and I think I saw my crew chief headed that way earlier. Big guy; goes by Darius or Dar. Just tell him I okayed it, and he should let you at the sensor logs. He'll probably hover like an old hen over you, but he means well."

Picking up his guitar from where it was leaning, Mike swung it into position, his fingers on the frets, and grinned at the older man. "Murder away, Colonel; I'll try to keep up."

Skinner hangs back. He gestures for he and Colin to remain and enjoy the music. "Im a music fan. Especially since we are likely to die soon."

Sounds like an interesting plan there Colin. I'll have something nice when we arrive to hook up to it as well... it will give us a clanner's view of things to work into that sim.
He sits down and starts tuning his ukelele.
When the clans invaded they overwhelmed us with their Mechs because we never knew what to expect. We'd see a Mech, try to figure out the armament, and then next time we saw it it was completely different. Running behind the facts all the time... they called them OmniMechs. We all know about them now, but when they first showed up...
Buford starts playing an old terran country riff.
As luck would have it though... when I found this dropship, and found Max barely alive inside it... it also had one of those OmniMechs in the bays. One we designated Timberwolf.

Eileen frowns, and pulls out her Comp unit to do a comparison.

"Its... interesting...", she comments with a puzzled look.  The edges of her lips turn downward in thought while the purse into a pouty petulant look that makes her look younger than she actually is.

"Interesting.", she comments again.

"I'm... following the theory... the problem is... ", she highlights several area as she speaks with Cassidy.

"These parts... are made of alloys... that... don't exist in the inner sphere."

"... and here... these's are using a scale of measurement i've never heard of... so the measurements are off."

"'We' can't use these as is.  We'd have to smelt a lot of new alloys... and machine a bunch of parts to new specifications, or modify the plans to make do with what's available.  Both are sort of time consuming chores.  I'd need more resources than my little Comp unit and tool kits to use these.  They are academically interesting to study though."

"May i make a copy of these schematics to study?", Eileen produces one of several data disc for her comp unit.  This one was blank.

"Along with any other schematics to help me cross reference the power, fire control, and navigational controls.  If were going into clan space, it'll be useful to have a head start understanding how to salvage their mechs.", Eileen looks around for Jo, who seems to have disappeared from immediate view.

"Oh... do we have anything on Bio Tech?", she asked remembering she had a new bookworm room mate that might be interested in new reading material as well.

Be my guest, Cassidy replied. This ship and all the data in it is Raider property. And last I checked... you are a Raider now. No need to ask.
He pulled up some different schematics.
We have one of these back at base, maybe we can learn from that thing too?
The schematics show a Mech foreign to Eileen, one that the schematics call Mad Cat.

In reply to GM (msg # 72):

Well That would be great Alex I would hope for a panther over the commando.  Beggars cant be choosers.

Candice takes some more time in the cockpit before tapping out and almost vomiting over the side of the mech.

Ugh, not the best look i know.   I'm sure when i get used to it it wont be as bad, and i heard that when you use a specific mech and helmet it gets better also.

Alex agrees.
It took me quite some time to get used to this big monster.
He taps the Highlander's side lovingly. Puked all over the dash a few times too. But once they tune helmet and Mech it gets better. Especially when you ride the same one all the time. This beast is slow and well armoured. Put me in a small and agile racer like a Locust or a Jenner, even a Cicada, and I'll get sick all over again probably. They just take some time to get tuned to. You'll get there soon enough.

Eileen tilts her head and regards the mech curious.

It was designated by the Lyran Armed forces as a 'MadCat'.

For the most part it superficially resembled a Catapult.  Though one with menacing looking Maurader arms at the end.

There was a lot that the schematics said, but perhaps more importantly was what was not said.

"Look.", she points out several parts of the schematics of interest, "These targeting channels don't go anywhere.  They lead into these shoulder and arm assemblies but reference out to different files... like variants.  So that all of these variants seem to use a standard infrastructure for fire controls.  File designations for software loads outs lead to other files.  So while this... looks like a Mech, it's really just a base chasis."

"These other files... look like hardware and software that have been standardized to be used in these hardpoints.  I'm doing something similar with Clover, but that's because she's a test bed for equipment and tactics.  This looks like a mass production, logistical strategy...", Cassady was giving her this 'look'.

"Let... me put it this way.

 Back in ancient times, everything was handmade.  Took forever to make everything, and no time things made were identical, because craftmen varied.  Things were not interchangabe.

 Along comes the industrial age, and parts are standardized.  A Martel Medium Laser... is going to be a Martel Medium Laser.  Take one off the shelf and fix it on the locust or other mech of your choice because the parts are the same.  You just have to wrangle the inner parts to fit the casings and software of various mechs."

"Eileen taps the schematics, this mech takes it a step further.  The parts are not just the same, but the variants all use the same chasis and infrastructure.  The infrastructure requirements are all the same, so there is nothing to fiddle with, it just goes in and you're done."

Eileen starts to pull up the referencing 'Variants' for the Mad Cat... or... Timber Wolf as it was labeled, and backs them up on her comp unit for review later.  She burns a seperate one on all the biotech that she can find for Nadine.  If they were going to a clan world, it would be nice to be immunized so that the whole unit isn't wiped out by a virus.  That would be embarassing...

"I think... we might be able to do something with this... later, but for now... i need to get this conversion working.  If i can't get it working with known tech, using this science fiction stuff will be a bad joke."

She goes back to work, though she does make a mental memo to share what's she learned with 'Ratchet' and 'Doc'.

In reply to Buford 'Bubba' Johnsson (msg # 96):

Colin saw that the group was going to stay out with the Colonel and gave a nod to Skinner. “I’d love to get my hands on some of the controls. That you certainly help with calibrating response times and targeting systems. Even better would be to live fire the weapons to understand optimal ranges versus max effective,” he said with poorly veiled excitement.

“Colonel,” Colin ventured slowly after his excitement died down and was replaced by solemness. “I’d like to know why you chose me. There are people with more combat experience and talent. There are people, likely most people, who can function without dyscalculia to hold their hands behind their back. There are men and women like Skinner and Krieg here that have seen the clans. Why me?”

Buford plucked away at the strings of the ukelele. There might be better tacticians out there for sure. Better soldiers, better warriors, better medics... But I have selected the best ones right now, because of one thing all those others dont have...
He looked at Colin and smiled.
You all want to be here. Want to be part of this. That makes you better than all the others.

---

Cassidy looked at Eileen trying to make some sense of what she said. Clearly he didn't fully comprehend it all.
This Mad Cat, the Mech in those schematics... we have one back at base, but we cant get it to work. Somehow it doesn't respond to anything any of our Mechwarriors try to do with it without some kind of security override. So far my guess was it needs to be activated by a specific neurohelmet, maybe even coupled to a specific Mechwarrior. I thought that was bad enough, but you are saying it likely has something like interchangeable arms or something? Like giving a soldier a different gun based on its mission?
He pondered on that for a bit.
I wonder if Maximus knew about that... he sure never mentioned it.

"Sir. Sorry, old habits. Sir, Colin here has a system that would allow us to do some virtual training. I for one would like to get to know the team and how they will function as a team before we hit solid ground. Is that something we could do in route do you think?"

He wasn't listening, wasn't even exactly talking to her. He was talking at her, so wrapped up in his worldview that nothing could put a dent in it. It was infuriating, especially for the already heated Nadia's temper, but the petite doctor had more self-control than that. If he wanted to talk, let him talk while she learned what she could, the better to deconstruct his arguments in private. She smiled, all honey and venom, and answered as pleasantly as she could. "No, Max, I am learning a great deal today about people who were only faceless invaders before now. What is bidding?"

"I can... take a look at it.  I couldn't promise more.", Eileen's lips twist into a slightly thoughtful look.

To have an actual 'live'... or mostly live anyway, prototype to look at could be interesting.  Most mechs have the option for some sort of security to be installed on them.  On a military operation, it made no sense, but a private one, like Solaris, it wasn't unheard of to have done.

There was no point in speculation at this point, because at this point there were alot of other things to be concerned with... like potential food poisoning.

'yick', Eileen hated being sick.

Michael fell quiet for a moment as the Colonel started playing, getting a feel for the music, then launched into a rhythm to match, taking up the part of the bass to the higher-pitched ukelele's lead. Slower than the flamenco he had been playing, it gave him time to think and process more. The Colonel wasn't really giving them any new information, not yet, but his answer to Colin was telling. "You're building a foundation. Believers, passionate people." A cult, he didn't say, because it would have been very impolitic. "To take the war back to the Clans."

"Sir. I'll be frank, in the last two years, we've been witness whether indirectly." He nodded to Colin. "Or more personally," A nod to Roland. "To them rolling over three of the Great Houses like they weren't even there. Last briefing I saw, though it's been a while, says a fifth of the Inner Sphere is under Clan control now. They've done in two years what no one has been able to in centuries of warfare. Redrawn the map." He sighed but kept playing. "How does our reinforced company of out-of-date mechs, one captured Clan OmniMech, and a single Elemental stop that?"

Bubba shook his head as he played on.
We dont stop them. We can't. We are only a small mercenary company, and not even an experienced one at that. In the grand scheme of things... we are nothing.
He changed the riff slightly, turning it into something more dramatic, as far as a ukelele would allow that.
I am counting on everyone overlooking us. We infiltrate their space, we steal their technology, we learn what we can, and try to find and exploit their weaknesses... And once we have done all that, we share that knowledge. With everyone!
Johnsson then brings the riff to a stacatto ending.
With everyone, so everyone benefits. The Inner Sphere needs to find a way to fight back, otherwise soon that fifth will be a fourth, half, or all of the Inner Sphere under clan control. And as much as I love Max... I dont like the idea of his people ruling us...

---

She was annoyed, he noticed that. Was it him, or his people that annoyed her? He wish he knew how to read people like dic Willy could, or like Bubba. But he couldn't. He was born to fight, it was all he could do.When the clans invade, he explained matter of factly, First thing they do is gather as much intell as possible. Then the bidding starts. That means that each clan puts in a bid to attack the target, and the lowest bid gets to actually do it. So lets say a planet like Tukayyid, which we invaded... a bidding was done and the clan that promosed to take it with the least amount of units was given the honor to actually lead the invasion. They however are not allowed to use more units and resources than the bid they put in, otherwise they would lose honor. And losing honor as a clan is like losing... well... everything.
His face betrayed it was something very important he was saying, but maybe more important was what he didn't say.

Listening carefully, Nadia tried to absorb what Max was saying. On the surface, his explanation appealed. Minimal force, minimal risk of life. Far better than the bloody meat grinders of the Succession Wars. Maybe Clan society wasn't all bad, but it was still all about killing your fellow man faster than he could kill you. All for the notional concept of honor. "That sounds like a step in the right direction Max; less bloodshed is always good, but..." She scowled for a moment, then grinned.

"Have you ever played Hold-em? Poker? Any sort of card game?" Nadia loved playing cards, and Kreig had brilliantly managed to incorporate that into building the three of them into a unit.

"In my unit, we divide up our duties by thirds since there are three of us. Got a little magnetic whiteboard in the shop to keep track of who has to do what that week." She chuckled softly. "Every Sunday, we get together and play cards for a few hours, using our chores as ante. At the end of the games, everyone takes their winnings and decides who has to do the chores they won. It's fair; it's egalitarian; it makes it hard to bitch about having to clean the showers because you didn't win them."

She got a little more serious. "My point is this. My system and yours both work great to make everything fairer, but they only work as long as everyone obeys the rules. What happens when someone cheats?"

Maximus looks at Nadia with some wonder in his eyes.
When they disobey?
He seems to need some time to progress the idea. Then he shrugs, as if the answer is simple to him. Logical.
We do not disobey. If anyone does... they die.

Look... in our society, things like what Bubba did, what Alex did... it would maybe happen once. They would have been killed immediately. Me... I survived a catastrophe on this very dropship and survived my battalion. They all died because life support failed. I should have died with them...

He hesitates before adding the rest...I can never go back. I failed my battalion. I would be killed immediately...
This message was last edited by the player at 01:33, Sun 12 Mar 2023.

Colin remained silent and only nodded as Bubba spoke. He didn’t know what to say to add to the conversation anymore. Things were moving fast and his ideas that the forays against the clans would be superficial at best seemed to be evaporating as well.

Skinner listened. "Do we have a homeworld target?"

Bubba shook his head.
No, no target yet. we have their star maps, with many systems we know nothing about, but we lack the means to get there for now. Our jumpships are not capable of doing some of the jump distances. But we have target systems where we hope to maybe acquire that technology, and work our way up from there.
He took a long drag of his cigar, letting the blue smoke twirl upwards.
That is why all of you were hired. Adventurous minds that think for themselves, improvise ideas and solutions. I have no need or use for 'yes sir' people. What we need right now is 'No idea how, but maybe this way' people, if you catch my drift.

And there again was that casual, nonchalant approach to brutality that made her stomach churn. Killing people over what might be a simple mistake?  "That is... A very efficient way of making sure that no one disobeys. And that no one thinks for themselves. What happens if your orders are simply wrong, Max? You obey, and you fail; you disobey, and you die... If all you have is a hammer..."

She stifled her anger before it got out of hand, glancing from William to Max and back again. Nadia frowned, sliding the half a meal she hadn't finished over to Max, and rose from the bench. "You have given me a great deal to think about Max, and I hope we can discuss this more in the future. Please finish that, I am sure the chef would hate to see it go to waste, and I seem to have lost my appetite. Good evening gentlemen."

--> To IC Banter

Mike smiled as the tempo changed, following the Colonel into his more dramatic tune and speeding his own playing up a little, filling in the gaps that the smaller instrument simply couldn't reach. He found himself nodding as the Colonel elaborated on his plan a little. A recon mission he could understand; it was his field, after all.

The plan was the standard reconnaissance motif. Avoid contact, observe, gather information, withdraw, and report. For that, you wanted to be small, inconspicuous, and fast as if the devil himself were after you. Things that, to Krieg's mind, the enormous dropship around him was none of, but on an interplanetary scale... Maybe.

They'd need an off-axis approach. Intel from Drac space said the Clans had Warships, something that the Inner Sphere hadn't seen in centuries, to back their tremendous ground force superiority, and if the Raider ran into a Warship in space, there was a whole lot of nowhere to hide. "Who's the bigger fish, Colonel?" It was a strange question, one that probably needed some explanation.

"Look, I fly a Ferret. What you're proposing is our standard insertion plan. Avoid contact with the enemy, observe, and report." He chuckled softly. "But we all know; no plan survives first contact. At that point in a Ferret, we start looking for a bigger fish. Someone or something more important to waste ammo shooting at while we get the hell out. What's our bigger fish?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:00, Sun 12 Mar 2023.

After the initial shiny toy effect wore off, most of the crowd seemed to find their own particular brand of amusement.  Except for Cassidy who was willing to stick it out and assist with her engine conversion.

When it was all said and done, Eileen boxed up the work they had done.  It... was nearly half as light but no longer fit in the box.  Bits and smaller pieces were stored in her other boxes, and a crate full of Savannah master engine parts were put aside for donation.

She wasn't sure if the food was going to be good or not, and decides to skip meals and just eat in later.

It was a productive, but long day, and really she was ready to go bed now.


~~>  IC Banter

Bubba shrugged before he rose up, ready to depart upon landing. He looked at Skinner and grinned.
There's always bigger fish. I happen to have information that one of those fish is soon to launch a counterattack on the clans. That should keep them occupied for a while.

Returning to the dropship only a few minutes after she left it on foot Tamara heads directly for the mech bay, to the pilot lockers in particular, and changes into her cooling suit, carefully folding her other clothes into the small bag intended for just that purpose she heads out to the mechs themselves to get into her own phoenix hawk.

With practiced ease and a friendly wave to the few technicians still on duty she climbs up into the mech's waiting head to begin the careful systems check and boot up process that will free it from the confinement of the dropship in short order.

Jason had slept on and off for most of the trip. When the dropship made landfall he was more than happy to gather his things and head out. After a brief stop to pick up his boxes from the armory he headed off ship.

----> To BR HQ Compound grounds

Thanks for the lesson Alex.   I have a lot to learn still.

I think i'm just going to relax and get my balance back to normal for a little bit here.

->barracks

No problem at all, McNuir grins as he walks with her off the ramp. Look me up when you are ready to try out an actual Mech without it being held up in the supports. For now go settled in, there should be enough rooms for everyone. And if not, you can always do what I do... make your own appartment of sorts. I have my place up in the rafters of the hangar bay.

[OOC: Catching up to landing time]

Jo listened to Dar talk about his life with a contemplative look on her face. On the one hand, a quiet life on a farm in the middle of nowhere sounded kind of like heaven. Peaceful, simple. But even as she thought it, something inside of her rebelled at the idea. She had never stayed anywhere for long, and as nice as that simple life looked at first glance, it also felt... small. Confining. She could well understand why Darius would have looked up to the stars for a way out, and why the promise of serving and protecting the Alliance might have appealed to him. Even if the Alliance recruiting ads were just so much hot air, it seemed to Jo that the ideals still held true for the big mechanic. The man who had instinctively put himself between a complete stranger and a bomb was the same one who had signed up for the Army. Not only to get away from a small life on a small planet, but simply to help people.

As he spoke about fighting, and the loss of Nineteenth, Jo reached out and touched his hand softly. A fleeting touch, sympathy and support. She had lost people too over the years, but she couldn't imagine loss on the scale of war. It wasn't something she had ever really had to think about. Now that she had signed on with the Raiders, though, that would change. It was a not a pleasant thought.

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine losing so many people you have worked so closely with. Probably should have thought about that before joining a merc crew, but..." Jo shrugged. Her briefly somber expression brightened suddenly. "No regrets, though. My day started off looking like I might spend some time in jail, and somehow it went from that, to this. A new job, off that particular rock, hands on a beautiful machine, drinking good beer with excellent company."

Jo leaned back with a happy sigh, the brief worry vanishing as quickly as it came. She was not one to dwell, and from where she sat, life was looking pretty damned good.

Hours passed in casual conversation about anything and everything. The announcement of their imminent arrival at the Raider base caught Jo by surprise; she had not realized how much time had passed. "Guess I better grab my things. I'll see you dirtside? I'm looking forward to seeing her in action," she said, running her hand along Ophelia's door before hopping lightly down and heading for the bunk to prepare for landing.

-> To: BR HQ - Barracks -> (then to Compound Grounds/present time)

Eventually satisfied with her startup procedures, and the relatively safe storage of her mech during a short flight with no combat Tamara triggers the release from the gantry and takes the Phoenix Hawk out of its individual bay under its own power.

While still a battlemech the Phoenix Hawk is fairly well renowned for its agility, and in some cases even grace, this holds true to that sentiment.  Stooping briefly to pick up to of the larger cargo containers that are ready to be moved by their top mounted mech handles Tamara manages the double pickup almost without slowing down and heads out of the dropship.

---

---> to Vehicle Hangar