In contrast to those who had found themselves staring down the gun barrel of new opportunity, one pilot found a much lower stakes gamble. Ingrid's morning jog around the interior of the base had left her stomach complaining, and this time without much relief in immediate sight: some equipment failure left a large line at the mess "tent", where she would normally get breakfast...and that left her searching through the spoils of war. She rifled through the assembled mass of material by the emptied shipping containers, trying to ignore the feeling in the back of her head that she probably didn't look much different than a squatter ruffling through garbage. On the food end. there were ration packages and vacuum-packed bars with just enough nutrients to subside on, but this time she was not going to settle for that. This was a planetside garrison they had raided; even with the relative squalor of Espia there had to be something better, yes?

It then hit her, almost literally. Her head brushed past one of the stacked white boxy things that were up by the food, and this disturbance finally got her to read what these pails contained: a fiesta in a box. Enough servings for everyone in the company to eat for a day. Foreign names that she could only vaguely place to a culture, formed from distant memories of visiting dignitaries from Buena. She was 12, but the household had given them a welcoming...fiesta, didn't they? Why did she remember them being vaguely offended...

Had Ingrid been a gourmand in her prior life? No. In fact, quite the opposite. She was the one who had never complained no matter what was put in front of her. The Duke and Duchess of House Daschke attributed this to her good upbringing, and she would attribute this to some lofty idea of a soldier never crying over food, but the secret reality was that she was simply a human garbage disposal. She had her tastes and preferences, yes, but she would eat basically anything put in front of her without a second thought. Her sister dined like a king on the exotic shellfish of her homeworld, her brother ate in gilded halls with his fellow officers in the LCAF, and Ingrid usually received a strange look whenever she beelined for the nearest fast food joint when out on training rather than dine with silvered forks and spoons. She was one of the few members of the Daschke house had ever tasted the famous Poulsbo Rat-Salmon Burger.

But was this complete lack of culinary taste enough to conquer the divide between woman and Fiesta?

Having pulled out a knife and opened the pail for plunder, she began to decode the included instructions. It appeared to have been written with the assumption that you actually know what a burrito is, and had more information to go off of than the picture on the front. At least all of the freeze-dried ingredients were separately marked, beyond whatever a 'fajeeta' is. It sounded reasonable enough...Ingrid's resolve pushed through her doubts.

With a gallon of drinking water and a few tin cans and MRE bowls used to portion out the food, she let the boxy hot plate begin heating up the refried beans (she did not understand why you would need to re-fry them, but hopefully they could be eaten without such preparation). No one was there to eat up the concerningly large portions the pail provided, but oh well. Surely there will be room for leftovers.

Raven Rivers

Raven was there, having recovered some of his composure. Nevertheless, his first question to Cassandra was, "So, basically, you want us to pay off our rent for using your place with military service? Considering how potential employers today can run the gamut from reliable to dubious, that's for the Colonel to decide."

To be honest, the madness which had possessed the man was still at the back of his head, waiting for another sufficient provocation to return, but Raven knew it; had made his peace with it while preparing to defend himself and his psyhce against the rage. He sighed and said, "That said, you must have great reserves of personal bravery if you come to a merc company who have suffered a lot from the local inhabitants, who have the gall to imprison their civilian contingent in defiance of all laws of decency."

Looking Cassandra in the eye, he continued a little archly, "What can you give us beyond the necessities for survival? What can you do for those imprisoned in Fort Tie Shan? I'm not blind; it's inevitable we'll have to make a local alliance and you seem to be our best bet. But there's a difference between an alliance we're both committed to and an alliance of convinience. What will you do to make it the former instead of the latter?"

Raven had not lost any drop of his sympathy for Espia's people, but as far as he was concerned, it was best to test Cassandra's charisma and ability to express commitment. Looking much younger than his actual age thanks to the best medical tech, he smiled and said, "But again, it's not my decision..."

@AndyC, @Pilatus

The hubub that followed the raid and Hugh’s appearance had wound down somewhat, once again replaced with more monotone routine with the exception of the Lumberjack retrieval sortie, and even that was disappointing in a petty way as none of them got to drive it back. On one hand it would’ve been an interesting entry in the logbook, on the other she’d have paid to see Ingrid driving an IndustrialMech. Fortunately one of Lister’s buddies from supply found two fairly fresh decks of cards in the captured trucks and organized a poker game with whoever felt like joining, once they carefully scrubbed the markings off the cards. Just a few overturned crates for seating with a pile of garbage from MREs in the middle of the ‘table’ - empty coffee packets were one tenth of a C-Bill, jam packs stood for a fifth, empty creamers for a half and gum wrappers for a whole C-Bill.

The day’s topic of idle chatter was news from Portveyn and the Heavenly Sword broadcast. Though the maniacs weren’t wrong calling them capitalist sellswords - like there was anything wrong with that - their actions shook up the state of things. She thought of an alliance, or rather a continuation of their contract with the loyalists as a done deal. Well that went up in flames. Literally. Had uncle Kjell been there, he would’ve given her no small amount of shit for calling a hit before the salvo landed so to speak, and would have been absolutely correct. Now the Fists knew they were still capable of fighting and their most effective potential ally had been badly maimed. Xiu was hardly a strong or popular leader, that much was clear even before it all went to shit, but how long would it take the loyalists to get back on their feet, if they would at all? Not bad for a group their briefing before the supply raid labeled a non-threat. And with the content and phrasing of the proclamation, they earned themselves a place pretty high on Marit’s shitlist. Maybe even higher than the Fists themselves.

The Colonel’s call to action stations put an end to both her thoughts and the game. With everyone dropping what they were holding and making a beeline toward wherever they would be most useful, Rimmer made sure to knock the table over as he passed, making it impossible to tell who had what and how much he lost. Fortunately, it was a false alarm. Old lady had some balls to walk in there, that was for sure, but she could’ve said she was friendly earlier so Marit wouldn’t have pulled an achilles tendon trying to get around the table-crate. ”Think she’s thrown her lot in with the NPDRE and realized the best way to get rid of us is to give us our people back, pack us into our ships and send us on our merry way?” Marit asked the room, getting several shaking heads in response. ”Yeah, me neither, but it would’ve been nice.” Still, the woman’s offer was interesting - and a lot more appealing than trying for the FPA - so she hobbled closer to hear where it will go, hoping the Colonel won’t take the negotiations somewhere private.

When they were permitted to lower their hands, Jon tucked his back in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. The pack of cigarettes was still missing and he glanced around for the little bastard that had taken them while Cassandra talked. She was in her element: Center of attention and a completely captive audience. Looking at the conditions, they truly had no choice but to accept whatever she was going to offer and from what he had witnessed of her regular business dealings, she would be squeezing the turnip for every ounce of juice possible. It didn’t matter that there was a war on, business was business. Standing next to her he returned the steady look of the Colonel, watching the way he walked and particularly the stiff nature of his left arm. Beyond that, the cave was a fanfare of makeshift mechbays, scattered equipment and a cacophony of smells that pulled and drifted towards the numerous ventilation shafts once used for the heavy equipment of the mine. He thought about the offer from the Crimson Fists then the rumors of the raid that bled through the grapevine of fighting men to Nui Awa. A Phoenix and Shadow Hawk, an Ostroc- something he’d never seen before, an Archer and a Raven, just like he had heard. His eyes shifted further, catching a glimpse of the turret of a Von Luckner tank around a bend in the cave, confirming his suspicions on the trail. All faced the Fists’ Longbow, Wolfhound, Raven and Jenner while protecting a convoy of unarmored transports. On paper it was a fairly even match given the conditions of battle, but he’d heard how they’d managed to still rout the Fists and escape. For a brief moment, he played out how he would’ve done it and his eyes zeroed in where he would have placed precision salvos across joints, hardware and cockpits. Where he would have set the ambush to kill them in one pass.

A crowd was forming and he looked over the assembly in the same way as he’d looked over the equipment. Not many had the same look as the Colonel or Sergeant Dalton. Uncertainty dominated. Then there was ample amounts of fear and fatigue. With the portable reactor and the medical tent they liberated, there was at least some measure of creature comfort restored, however it was an operation on borrowed time. There were even children roaming about. He let out a small breath of unease at the sight of them. The Fists would eventually find this place. Even though the mines were a maze of tunnels and connections, the process of elimination would eventually tilt the math in favor of the hunters. He was glad he stayed with Cassandra. Marching women and children off to Fort Tie Shan was not something he could have kept on his conscience. That place had its own set of rumors. He thought about a clear shot at the cockpit of a Battlemaster or a Longbow, the glint of sunlight off the tinted canopy, the muzzle flash over his shoulder and the hot-white hatred that shrieked out of armored gauntlets.

A cigarette would be nice.

"High alert this, high alert that, and not even so much as a brawl," Ziska fumed from a corner of the cavern. Crouched over battered set of heatsinks, she presided over a fresh bottle of vodka and several small glasses filled to the brim. Gathered around her sat an obviously bored Astech Sunther and an uncomfortable looking Astech Minhas.

"Perhaps, you would let us return to our work," Sunther began.

"No, drink."

"B- but Ziska, we've already had-" Minhas began, her cheeks flush with fresh color.

"Drink," Ziska said, her eyes staying coldly on the two intruders. Intruders was the right word. Business proposals were well and good, but Ziska had begun to despair at the influx of uninvited guests, however well intentions they might have been. It was becoming a pattern. A new pattern Ziska did not like. And a pattern she considered might have to be resolved with the correct application of deadly violence.

Picking one of the shot glass up with her left hand, Ziska offered quick nod to her Astechs before swallowing the burning liquid in a fell swoop. Sunther managed only a slight cough, burying his mouth in the crook of his arm, and Minhas to her credit, made only a very pained expression as she drank the fiery spirit. As if reading her thoughts, Minhas looked warily at the pistol laying within easy reach of Ziska's right hand. The safety was off and Ziska flashed the smallest of smiles at the young Astech. Periphery knew Periphery. Pirate knew pirate. Minhas, kind, blissfully sheltered Minhas, knew better than most how Ziska perceived problems, and how she preferred to solve them.

The suit dressed out of a magazine didn't interest Ziska. Money was money. She didn't care much as long as the c-bills arrived in a timely and discreet fashion. The man she had brought with her did. He looked capable. He walked like a soldier. He smelled like a mercenary. MechWarrior, maybe, Ziska thought, summoning a brief flame of interest. She was bored, but there were ways to deal with that.

Running a hand over the fresh layer of bandages that covered Doctor Yuri's clever work, Ziska almost forgot that she had recently smashed her head against unwavering metal. Nakajima was good, better than good even. She owed her a drink. Something tasteful. Something from her festive stock.

Standing, Ziska walked leisurely towards the two strangers and crowd of Green Knights pretending not to be eavesdropping on the conversation unfolding in the makeshift hangar. She spotted one of Dalton's finest fiddling with a pack of cigarettes and snatched them from his hands before the man had a chance to react. Dancing just out of range, she shot the annoyed looking soldier a sly smile, as she faded to the edge of the crowed. Stealing a lighter from a nearby Astech, Ziska pulled a cigarette out of the pack.

Lighting the cigarette, Ziska took a closer look at Cassandra. She talked the talk and Ziska wasn't inclined to doubt that she walked the walk. She'd pay them, probably, and she was only lying as much as could be expected from a corporate executive. Better a new employer than no employer at any rate. And Ziska had never liked the late Governor Xiu very much. Ziska had no patience for incompetence. Morality was no concern to Ziska. She knew how to forget and shift her perspective easily enough. Being alive was more important than being right. Dead was dead. Incompetence killed. Losing control was fatal. Flinching, flinching for even a moment was deadly.

Water, Ziska thought, puffing out a lazy cloud of smoke. Water was everything.

Water was the first thing needed to fight a war. Water on a planet like Espia was power. The Aqua Vitae Corporation, this Jeong standing in front of them, interviewing them, controlled the water, on paper if not in reality. They would have information. They would have resources. A way to keep fighting. A way off the planet, maybe. And a way to leave the Crimson Fists dying slowly if it came to that. Planet and civilian population be damned.

Smiling at the fighting man standing casually next to Cassandra, Ziska pocketed the pack of cigarettes. Nothing was free. Nothing was free when you came uninvited.

“ Oi, Takka,” Aroxy flicked his gunner’s head. The man was currently asleep, lying on top of a crate of SRMs they had liberated during their raid on the Espian Guard’s storage facility. Held in his hand was a bottle of something Aroxy smelled like gasoline. If they were still back in the Free Worlds League, he would have sent Takka to the brig to walk off his booze-induced headaches. Fortunately for the tank driver, there was no such thing as a military tribunal in the Green Knights. If there was, Aroxy would have been able to knock some sense into the little dumbass’s head.

Takka shook his head as he groggily woke up from his alcoholic stupor. “ What’s up, boss?”

Just before Takka could take another swig, Aroxy took it away from him, unscrewed the lid and poured it out on the floor.

“ I need a status report on the Merry Go Report’s status. How long before it’s fully operational again, Takka?”

From Aroxy’s point of view, the Merry Go Round looked like a gutted animal. The turret had been fully detached from its chassis and the upper portion of its heavy chassis was lifted off by a winch crane. Hydraulic pumps were strewn out of its belly like guts and its treads had been fully winded off the wheels and drive train. It was odd seeing the venerable tank like this and made Aroxy somewhat embarrassed the more he stared at it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had requisitioned the Merry Go Round for refurbishment.

“ Well, Cap, we should be mission ready in about three days, give or take,” Takka fiddled around for his personal datapad, tapping a few buttons to reveal a screen that showed a wiremap frame of the Merry Go Round. Several regions were blanketed in a thick coat of red and orange. “ The main priority is the treads. We don’t get this right and we’ll be mission killed faster than you can say ‘Fuck The Crimson Guard’”.

“ Hey, Cap!,” A brash voice shouted out as the lean figure of Ansel walked around the bulk of the Von Luckner. In his hand was a ragged piece of the Espian Herald. “ Well, lookey here, Xiu’s dead. Ain’t this planet more of a shitshow than it already is, Captain?,” Ansel murmured. The brunette gunner sliced the tip of his cigar with the edge of his knife before lighting it with a strip match.

“ Eh, who cares?” Helma’s head popped out of the tank and she clambered down, her face splotched with motor oil and grease. “ There all the fucking same. It’s like caring about each weed when you mow a lawn. More trouble than it’s worth. We keep killing until they stop trying to kill us. Simple as that, Ansel.”

Aroxy grabbed the paper and looked at it. As always, the Espian Herald was frustratingly lacking in details that failed to thoroughly communicate the gravity of the situation. The planetwide coup had taken a step in its natural direction and already, they were witnessing the beginnings of a civil war on multiple fronts. He scratched his chin and scrunched up the paper, throwing it over his back.

“ The Heavenly Sword are a rogue variable. With some lack, they could hamper the Crimson Fists operations. I’ll have to - ,” Aroxy paused as he heard the commotion in the cave. It was coming over from the entrance. He whistled for the crew to stand at attention and motioned for them to follow him. He and the crew of the Merry Go Round parted through the crowd of onlookers to get a peek at what was happening. There was a standoff between Colonel Wayne and a lady who looked more appropriate on the front cover of a magazine than a war zone. His eyes narrowed as his minds remembered the briefings they had before they made planetfall. This was Cassandra Jeong, the heiress of the Aqua Vitae Corporation. In the absence of groundwater aquifers, Espia had placed a huge number of financial investments into a network of desalination plants that kept the planet running so to speak. The corporate conglomerate was in control of a good chunk of Espia’s natural resources. An alliance with them was too good to be true. They were lacking in manpower and resources right now, but desperation often blinded people to the truth.

“ I can’t imagine recent events have been profitable for the Aqua Vitae Corporation, Miss Jeong,’ Aroxy said in a slow, contemplative voice. “ If we were to assist you, what remunerations would you offer us?”

“ Help? Pah, we don’t need help from some corporate gold-plated smarmy CEO!,” Takka spat out. “ We can take - YOWCH!”

Takka yelped mid-sentence as Helma pinched the lobe of his ear painfully, dragging him into the crowd and out of sight.

"My, aren't we all direct and to the point?" Cassandra remarked as she eyed the Green Knights with an eager curiosity. "I can respect that; no need to mince words and play games when matters are grave, yes?"

The heiress knew to be careful; while the research she had done on the Green Knights suggested that they operated above-board and had a relatively clean reputation, she was still very much in a dangerous situation. These people were in a desperate situation, and likely slow to trust. While she assumed she would have to commit a particularly massive faux pas to get herself killed, giving them the wrong impression could still very well cause the situation to spiral out of hand. In all likelihood, she would never get another chance at convincing Colonel Wayne and his Mechwarriors to assist her, and given how much firepower they had, it was far better for everyone to bring them into the fold than to have them running rogue on Espia.

Despite the graveness of the situation and the high stakes at play, Cassandra's game-face betrayed nothing. As far as her expression and body language gave away, she might as well have been greeting guests at a dinner party.

"I suppose we should begin with the question of what I can do for you," she began. "Starting with the obvious, you are mercenaries and I am quite wealthy. And tragically, it seems your previous employer has exploded, meaning at the moment there is nobody to foot the bill. I may not have the entire planet's economy to offer, but I think you'll be quite pleasantly surprised by what working for the private sector can offer."

"I'm sure for many of you, money doesn't matter much at this moment, so I'll add that I also happen to own several facilities and tracts of land where Federov and his friends won't be snooping around, giving you considerably better accommodations. Access to proper equipment, supplies without the need to go raiding for them, a roof over your head and a clean change of clothes. I can't guarantee a five-star resort experience-- at least, not until business here is concluded-- but I can at least guarantee a better time than sitting at the bottom of an old mine."

Cassandra was pleased to see the eyebrows of some of the Knights and their crew raise. A pocket full of C-Bills was a wonderful thing in most situations, but for a band that was sitting in squalor and one bad mission away from starvation, a few creature comforts and the chance to feel human again was a far more attractive prospect.

"More importantly," she continued, "I have influence, and I have connections. Federov doesn't think much of me, but a pretty little handful of people who work for him used to work for me. I can make sure the NPDRE's eyes are turned towards wherever you want them to look, and away from wherever you don't want them looking. I'm hardly experienced in military matters, but a lifetime of business and politics has taught me the value of misdirection. To say nothing of the value of networking- I do loathe ever so much to brag, but I'm rather good at making friends. You want to link up with the Free People's Army? I can have my people talk to their people and arrange it. You want to get your people out of Fort Tie Shan? Give me a little time, and I can put together a lovely little lunch meeting with the head warden."

"That's a very nice pitch, Ma'am," Colonel Wayne responded, his own game-face etched in stone, "but I'm waiting to hear the other end of it. What exactly are you planning that you need the use of a lance of Battlemechs?"

Cassandra turned to the Colonel, the grin on her face unchanged. "I'm sure you've noticed, dearie, but there's a war going on, and right now, whoever wins, the people of Espia lose. The NPDRE are jackboot thugs who will grind everyone into the dirt, as long as it feeds Federov and Malenkov's egos. Meanwhile the Free People's Army mean well enough, but they have just as many hardline radicals in their ranks as they have high-minded idealists, and you know what they say about today's revolutionaries becoming tomorrow's dictators. I intend to make sure the people of this world come out on top, whether that means shaping one of the current options into something more palatable, or creating a third option. I'd like to consider myself quite a few interesting things, and one of them happens to be a patriot."

Her game face slipped a tad, and her expression grew dark.

"There's also the little matter," she said, "of revenge. Governor Xiu was a pompous fool, but Benjamin Kahale was a dear friend of mine. We rarely saw eye-to-eye on politics, but I always had the utmost respect for him. The Heavenly Sword killed a good man, and they intend to kill a good many more. I think anyone looking can see that Espia will be much better off without them. And I'd very much like to put money in the hands of whoever wipes them out."

The Colonel and the heiress circled each other slowly, exchanging appraising gazes as they got the measure of each other. In other circumstances, one might assume they were about to begin a dance. Or a fight.

"So your plan is that I put the lives of the men and women under my command," Gaius said, "in the hands of an industrial tycoon who fancies herself a king-maker. That we fight the Espian Guards and the Crimson Fists to overthrow the NPDRE on your word that the regime you choose will be better than the current one. And that when we're not engaging the planetary army or slugging it out with their own Mechwarriors, we're hunting down cells of psychotic Liao-loyal terrorists, to carry out your personal vendetta."

"If you want to see it like that," Jeong replied with a condescending smirk. "I see it as paying you to get what you already want-- payback against the government who did you wrong, the military who have imprisoned your people, and the people who killed your previous employer. You want your people out of that fort? You want your Dropships back? You'll be in a far better position to get them if you take my offer than if you stay here and wait for Malenkov and the Crimson Fists to close in on you."

"And what's to say you're good to your word?"

Cassandra scoffed. "I should be insulted that my reputation on this planet isn't enough to convince you, but I'll spare you the indignation. You're a practical man, Colonel; I didn't expect to come here with nothing but my charm and dazzling conversation to win you over. You want a gesture of good faith? If you'll let me put my hands down for a moment, I've got a few documents that might pique your curiosity."

Colonel Wayne nodded to Sergeant Dalton, who in turn nodded to the other infantrymen, who lowered their guns.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Cassandra smiled at Sergeant Dalton, before rummaging through her hiking backpack and producing a binder. "A few old surveying maps of the area, and a handful of photos taken this morning at the spaceport. I think you'll find them quite interesting."

The Colonel took the binder, and began flipping through them. His brow furrowed in a frown.

"Lieutenant Lyons?" he called out.

"Here, sir!" the enthusiastic young officer from the Mobile HQ crew called out from further back in the crowd.

"I want you to run these through a Verigraph, make sure they're legitimate," he said, handing the folder to Lyons. "If these are what she says they are, then the situation is potentially getting much better and much worse. If they're fake, well...that's an issue we'll deal with if we have to."

"Yes, sir!" she answered, striding off to the Mobile HQ with a purpose.

"Green Knights," Colonel Wayne addressed the troops, "Ms. Jeong and I are going to have a little chat concerning local politics and potential business arrangements while we verify her documents. In the meantime, keep her assistant entertained."

Raven Rivers

Gone were most traces of psychotic rage as Raven Rivers approached Jonathan, stretched out his hand to shake, and said, "So, you're with us now; want to have a drink? We have Espian moonshine in the mess hall..."

As he trailed off, anyone listening in could recognize that Raven was clearly happy. Selfish and self-centered he might be at times, but even that had limits; right now, the Pilot wanted to remind everyone that he had a different side to him, that he was one of the founding members of the company for a reason. And that reason was the fact that when pushed to it, Raven Rivers can be sincerely charming, the sort of charm which came not from smooth words and honeyed tones, but rather from a fundamental need to see those he counts as friends happy. And right now, Jonathan was a friend or adjacent to one.

So Raven smiled and introduced himself, "Raven Rivers; Mechwarrior. Here's hoping to fight beside you in multiple battlefields in the future."

Short but sweet, gregarious but not overly so. Raven knew how to present himself in a friendly manner when he really wanted to, although of course, it was his intelligence - Which was still there - that had charmed his wife (and a dozen other men and women, but they were not as good for him as his wife). Then the man decided to reveal yet another reason why Jon might want to hang out with him and the other pilots, "We also have Simulators, by the way. Want us to do a mech combat spar?"

@Pilatus

“You think she’s being serious with the whole ‘I’m here for the people.’ spiel?” Lister asked.
”No, I’m not that naive.” She shook her head, forgetting to keep her voice down.
“I think that if the NPDRE stomps us out and takes full control, their profits are on the line. Fedorov would need money to fix the planet after a civil war, and people like her are loaded.” That was if they didn’t go medieval on them just because they could, so far this conflict had a weird habit of incorporating the most shitbag behavior into it.
“But if she backs us, she’ll be one of the people who enabled ‘the people’ to retake their planet-”
”And maybe gets to have a say in who gets to run the new-new regime. Like one of the connections she mentioned. And friends in high places are good for business.” She agreed, both letting the silence hang for a while to hear more of the conversation.
”She had me with the accommodations though.”
“Yeah.”

Then the Colonel unfortunately decided he’d had enough of the audience, probably not helped by everyone and their mother yelling questions - if only questions, was that tanker drunk? - and took the debate elsewhere.
“Aw, smeg. Show’s over.”
”Well, let’s go make friends. Colonel’s orders.”
“Go ahead, I’ll go reset the table and clean the cards.”
She walked over to the two men, waiting for a break in the conversation to join. ”Looks like you might get your wish with the FPA after all, Family Man.” She addressed her fellow Green Knight before turning to Jon and offering him a hand to shake and a smile, ”Hi, I’m Marit. I don’t know what it is that you do or what sort of deal you have with your current employer, but we have some free capacity now and I can promise our Colonel doesn’t march us into the middle of nowhere to have Myomer Man point a shotgun in your face.” She jested, ”Don’t think ill of the big man, we’ve had… a month.”

Jon studied the strange woman from the corner of his eye. She didn’t seem to be a regular smoker. Her bandaged up head gave her away. Of the mechs in the Knights’ roster. The Raven was clearly the one still taking on the majority of repair work. He would have bet she was its pilot which would explain her injuries in comparison to most of the others that had started to gather. A mech like that didn’t come into the possession of just anyone and most assuredly not through anything close to honest business which only meant one other thing: pirate. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was sure of it. They all had the same look. The same spiel. He knew it well. Like a song with one note. Drink, fight, fuck and steal, and act like fools inbetween. The little court jester facade was just the act that covered up the rot underneath. He’d seen them kill women and children out on the frontiers of Taurian space. Still crying as they’d gunned them down without a thought, taking pleasure in it even. Jon hated pirates and he’d killed them by bushel. Still, some part of him tried to remind himself that he could be wrong. He hoped he was and turned his glance back to the others while Cassandra and the Colonel spoke.

Again he looked over the tracks inside the cave. The placement of the mechs and the vehicles and how they had moved without being disturbed by rain. The stolen transports were awkwardly parked close together to save space and the cabover hood of one of them was tilted up on its shocks, probably for scavenging parts. He kept the same neutral expression as the others as Cassandra and Gaius departed to talk business. On the trek out, he and Cassandra had already worked out that she would do all the talking and that he was to divulge as little as possible, which was just fine by him. He regarded the first outstretched hand momentarily from the one calling himself Rivers before matching the grip and noting the wedding ring. The man was awkward and presumptuous. Jon was not “with them” and when Raven mentioned a “mess hall”, he couldn’t help but arch his brow strangely at the other man, being as they were in a cave… underground. He talked unusually as well, unlike anyone Jon had ever met, like some knight of old and Jon wondered if he might have a screw loose- there were plenty of those among mechwarriors.

What was a surprise was the one who approached next and offered her hand with a polite smile. Her eyes were still young and bright and at thirty-five, he felt old and worn in her presence, like she was a visitor in his reality of war and destruction. His hand was bigger, but her grip was surprisingly firm, which he liked. “Jon… and don’t worry about it.” He said and gave a small shrug. “Not the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me.” He looked over the other crews and staff, all a mass of commotion, but his eyes shifted back to Marit before Raven and before he spoke again, keeping the conversation mostly about the Green Knights: “Yea, we’ve heard a lot about the ‘month’ you’ve had for sure.”

@Starlance
@Letter Bee

Reya Wyatt

“That’s your move?” Reya said. She spoke as if she were regarding someone teetering on a balance beam. Someone who she was on the verge of kicking the legs out from under. She looked at her nails.

“Jesus, Samuel, you’re not gonna win, just stop.” Iris pleaded

“Statistically, at some point. She has to get bad cards.” Samuel replied defiantly. He was down to nothing but a sleeveless undershirt and his pants. He rubbed his arms against the coolness of the cave and stacked his socked feet together in attempt to stay warm. “And she’s not getting any better, beating me over and over, soon I’ll just be able to copy her. No one has made it this far before. Nobody.” His voice was determined, but his teeth chattered.

“Oh, so you think that’s how this works?” Reya said with some amusement. She rested her head against one hand, not even really looking at the cards arrayed neatly in their proper positions. There was a simple cloth over the empty ammo box, though not one of the much valued and oft searched for textiles. Behind her was a collection of tools, trinkets, parts and other random novelties that Samuel had brought to wager and subsequently lost possession. “After this, I’ll show you how to wire a switch correctly… assuming you don’t freeze to death.” No one had ever beaten Reya at Hanafuda and losing was about as certain as gravity. There was a rumor that Dr. Yuri once won a hand, but no one knew for sure. The obscure card game, mostly only existent within the Combine, was at least a nice departure from the standard poker deck. Beating Reya, who had taught everyone willing to play other than Yuri was a feat held in similar odds as reforming the Star League or building Hyper-Pulse Generator from scratch. She rolled up a wad of hair and sniffed it before shoving it in Tarak’s face. “Does my hair smell?"

The boombox rattled down Tarak’s mixtape next to them. Samuel stood up, looking at the deck, arms crossed in fierce contemplation.

“I like this song.”

He finally placed a card and extracted the matching suit. Everyone leaned in to watch the deck draw that would follow, but he knew as soon as he turned the card it was over. He sunk back down to his stool, an empty Fiesta Pail bucket, while Reya daintily distributed her hand for display. “Five Scrolls, Ino-Shika-Cho.” The She waved her hand over them like a Solaris dealer. The rest of Tarak’s crew groaned and rolled their eyes at another defeat. “And one shirt, please.” She added.

Samuel lowered his head.

“Will you just give up now?” Iris protested again. “Maybe she’ll at least let you keep your clothes.”

“He can have them back.” Reya said. “I’ll let him work off his debt, like the rest. Make me tea and coffee, maybe carry my tools.” She leaned back into Tarak and gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. “What do you think?”

Samuel grit his teeth and started to defiantly pull his shirt away for another round, but the Colonel’s voice boomed aloud.

Being farther away from the entrance near Black Phoenix and the Von Luckner, Reya followed Tarak around the perimeter of the cave and because most people got out of Tarak’s way. She couldn’t really hear what was going on, but there were apparently more visitors which automatically put an uneasy knot in her stomach. As they got closer she stood behind him and peeped around at about the time the woman was talking about the dramatic conclusion of their former employer. Reya’s eyes narrowed, not because of what was being said, but because of Cassandra, the person. There was something familiar about her. Reya seldom forgot anything and her mind raced through a catalog of memories like a missile. It would bother her the rest of the day if she couldn’t recall it, days even. Her eyes wandered as she thought. Jeong… Jeong…. Slowly hey eyes rested on what was a familiar figure skulking amidst the movement around them: Ziska. Her bandaged head stood out almost comically, but puffing away alone seemed out of place for her. Never could she remember seeing Ziska smoke- not that it didn't fit her character. She pulled at Tarak’s jacket to get his attention, tilting her head quizzically. “Since when does she smoke?”

@Abstract Proxy
@Th3King0fChaos

What was an employer to a knight?

This wasn't a high and lofty matter of philosophy that needed to be dissected word by word, as you stand over a cliff looking into the sunset, one hand on your pommel and the other on your heart. Ingrid had been put into the position of sellsword, in her chivalric mind, for a while now. She just wanted to understand how the knightly mindset of a Mechwarrior interfaced with that of a mercenary. Knights do not take pay on a per-mission basis. In the best case, a Mechwarrior fights solely out of a self-placed sense of worth and duty. In most cases because of the titles, land and goverment stipends...but Ingrid imagined herself as being more the former than the latter. Trying to dissect this woman's words in as materialistic of a light as possible was difficult.

(All the same, it was difficult because of what she had eaten earlier in the morning. She was someone with an iron stomach and she wouldn't bend the knee to the fiesta pail, but perhaps she should've tried something less rich for her first "real" food in weeks.)

Across from the Colonel and Cassandra's discussion, her eyes cold and her arms folded as she hunched herself over the crate she sat on, she sat by the crew of the Von Luckner and heard their quiet chitter as they spoke - she did not rebuke them as she should, but the possibility of acting for the people should be its own reward, even if it's not always a realistic outcome.

Though, something did get her a bit less steely, for a moment - You want to get your people out of Fort Tie Shan? That brief offer, unlike the rest, made her show a rare bit of wide-eyed surprise that she took a moment to conceal beneath her usual look. Getting off this planet or finding allies in the world didn't make her blink, but this one proposition did.

Someone was left there that she couldn't leave behind. In a few words, Cassandra had quickly turned her from one suspicious on principle to a woman desperate.

She left when ordered, with the same punctual movement and quick 'Sir' as she got up, but her eyes lingered on the Espian woman for a while longer.

The only thing she said during all of this was a quick "She does not," upon Reya's question. Jon's existence didn't concern her very much, sadly.

Marit paused briefly, pondering what Jon said about it not being the first time he had a gun in his face. The day of the raid hadn’t been the first time she had to get up at a criminally early hour either, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. He did look like he’d seen things though. He had the air of a Merlin BattleMech that found itself in several conflicts back-to-back: Not old, but worn beyond its years.

”Our month must’ve made for good gossip in the ivory towers.” She noted absentmindedly, her tone bare of any ill will or blame, more akin to a casual observation about the weather, ”So, why only reach out to us now? I’m assuming you’ve known about someone’s presence in these mines ever since we arrived. Was her highness counting on Xiu’s remnant putting this burning bag of shit out by themselves? If so, how do five-“ Marit paused, remembering the Lumberjack newly added into their roster, ”Five and a half ‘Mechs and a tank plus support personnel balance out the loss of their leadership?” Jeong could’t have thought they were refugees or some other faction, Right? She mentioned seismic sensors, what else but a BattleMech could trip those?

”Speaking of the shitstorm, how bad is it out there? Not just Portveyn, all of it. I’m assuming you know more than we do. See, the fork we’re getting our wireless reception through keeps getting stolen by the cooks, it’s the only one we have, so we sometimes miss the CNB broadcasts.” She started fishing for information before a bit of pride bubbled up onto the surface, ”Anything of note in response to our little heist?”

@Pilatus

Jon shrugged at the first question. “You’d be surprised.” He said. His country accent was evident in the long vowel, i. “Most of them just want someone to take care of them.” He weighed saying more. What he was giving was the truth about many that worked for Cassandra within the walls of the Rose Hotel, but they were just the day to day, hour and salaried. Many could have cared less about whose flag was hanging outside of the administration building as long as they got a paycheck and could still go to a movie or a bar when they wanted. The real machinations occurred at the top of the ivory tower. The broken drama and backstabbing that had taken place within the AVC board of directors was for Cassandra to disclose as she so desired. He looked at Marit. She was smart and had a little attitude on her too, which he also liked. Cassandra’s timing in relation to her involvement with the Knights was something he was sure Marit could correctly discern without him spelling it out. He let her keep talking.

Yuzhny Portveyn was an absolute cluster and now included a large crater. He wouldn’t mention that he had been there and only missed that rendezvous by a few minutes, but he did see the, “People’s Hammer” miss a few licks because their barrels had run dry. There was a rumor the Crimson Fists’ Hunchback was to be on station fighting alongside the NPDRE for an easy photo-op where the medium mech’s AC20 would have run wild in the urban fighting, but the Knights’ raid had deprived it of promised ammunition and the Fists had elected to hold it back as a result. Jon glanced for a moment back over towards the Knights’ Von Luckner. He had thought on it a few times. How things could have gone a lot differently that day. The Hunchback would have been an easy kill in the open expanse near the stadium, but if he had put it down, there was a strong chance he and Cassandra wouldn’t be in present company. True or not, it was still out there and they were here. “Lotta' good people dying,” He said, answering her next question. The words were plain and included a sense of reverence for the dead. He didn’t look back at her when he said it as the scene of chaos around Yuzhny Portveyn reminded him of other places he’d been and seen the same thing or much worse. “Lotta’ bad ones too though.” He added, looking back at her and Raven.

He relaxed a bit and considered the rumor mill for what it was worth. Soldiers liked to talk and it was easy to get the scoop from both sides when you spoke the same language. He had an AVC workman’s jacket that let him blend right in as a neutral party to the warfighter on both sides. “Huffin’ and puffin’ and the usual big talk mostly.” Jon added in relation to the effectiveness of the Knights’ raid. “I think y’all hurt’em more than they’re lettin’ on.” He recalled another passing conversation as the words came out. “I know they're really pissed about having to dig up a buncha’ mines and airlift some containers.”

@Starlance

Raven Rivers

Raven nodded in acknowledgent to both Marit and Jon, saying, "I see. It is always a waste to see more good people die; I've lived long enough to see it happen more times than I am... comfortable with."

His mood had changed after hearing what Jon had to say about Yuhzny Portveyn. His next question was, "The FPA, how well do they fight? As Marit here said, I was an advocate of joining up with their forces out of sympathy - Their reasons for fighting are legitimate plus I never liked or trusted Governor Xiu. Not that I ever felt like I should have voiced that before his death. More to the point, has your boss ever investigated who's been trying to tear this planet away from the Cappellans? The Crimson Fists certainly didn't come from nowhere..."

Raven had discussed this with Reya before, but had been told to leave the politics to the higher-ups; he was still going to do that but a bit of curiosity was not going to hurt anyone. Hopefully. Much.

Then he said, "You know, I joined the Green Knights - even helped found it - because we admired the Kell Hounds, we considered them 'ideal warriors' not bound by politics and ideologies, just each other and the job. Or so the Colonel said. Then, it turns out that while we are definitely more independent than before, interstellar politics still rears its ugly head when we least expect it." Then with a sigh, he said, "I'm 42 and my wife and son are imprisoned through no fault of their own. If I were ever to rescue them, I'm retiring once this job ends."

@Pilatus@Starlance

Location:
Abandoned Neodymium Mine
Eunsan Mountain Range
250 Kilometers Southwest of Balya Gora
Interactions/Mentions:
Reya @Pilatus, Ziska @Abstract Proxy, Cassandra, the Misfits, and The Green Knights.
Gear:
His clothing: Boots, long-sleeved shirt, pants, gloves, holstered handgun with 20 rounds

---

Tarak watched as he had watched had been ran over by Reya and has had most of the possessions he had brought to the table. Tarak chuckled as he watched as Samuel tried to claw any semblance of a win, yet Tarak could only shake his head. As lightly joked with Reya as she stuck her hair out for him to smell, as he did he said, "Yeah it does. Like coffee, oil, and the tears of Samuel's project never coming to light". Tarak chuckled as he watched once more as Samuel was beaten and not even was he able to win a hand. As when Reya grabbed his attention again with a playful smile Tarak smirked and said, "Eh, they are the dumb ones for trying to best you in this". As in that moment a voice cut through the cave, as that was their call.

AS tarak and Reya made their way through the cave, Tarak noticed the excitement once more, more people. The air was slightly stressed, strangely palpable and allowed for one to easily see the ebbs and flow. These people were different, they brought more than just a jar and a ForestryMech. Once they met the people, he hear their 'guest' was talking about the dramatic conclusion of their former employer and the Colonel talking about talking to their guest and possible employer. Tarak thought this was going to at least be a good thing, as many others did, but Reya seemed to have another thing in mind as she made notice of Ziska was smoking and her not seeing her smoke. Tarak looked at Reya for a moment before he realized, "Ah, she smokes every now and again, more like one of those smokers who only likes to do it in a party. If offered one with a drink she'll smoke it happily, other than that, I don't really see her doing it, so, she might have been offered it, or it could have been something she yoinked off of someone". As Tarak thinks as he looks again, "I do wonder where she got it though and why".

Tarak shrugs and looks to Reya as he says, "Only one way to find out". As Tarak went over to Ziska and said, "Hey yo, Ziska. Where'd you get the smoke?"

Nearly two hours passed as Colonel Wayne and the enigmatic Cassandra Jeong spoke in the Mobile HQ. An air of uncertainty hung over the Green Knights' camp, as everyone awaited to see what decision the Colonel would make.

Eventually the Colonel emerged, his face still as hard as granite. Cassandra followed after, barely revealing a satisfied grin.

"Green Knights, listen up!" Gaius bellowed. "I want everyone to begin preparations to mobilize. And make sure you include a breathing mask in your gear; this place is going to get very dusty, very fast. Chief?"

Deck Chief Solomon Aadil perked his head up. "Sir?"

"I want an inventory of the munitions captured in the supply raid that are not compatible with our 'Mechs. Anything that doesn't fit into one of our missile racks or cannons, I want disassembled, and the warheads converted for blasting charges."

Without even taking the time to register the near insanity of that sentence, Chief Aadil nodded and set about shouting to the crew. "You heard the man! One way or another we're making some holes with this shit! Now move!"

As the technicians scurried about to their tasks, the Colonel called out to his combat assets.

"Mechwarriors! Sergeant Dalton! Chief Techs! Mission briefings begin in ten minutes! That's missions, plural! We're about to get very busy."

"Green Knights, attention!" Colonel Wayne called out.

The mine had been a buzz of activity as the technicians and crew prepared to mobilize, loading equipment onto transport vehicles, strapping down every piece of equipment and ammunition they could bring with them, trying to make sure their various creature comforts weren't going to be left behind. There was no word yet as to where they were headed or what they were going to be doing, but for many, a change of scenery was going to be welcome no matter what.

The Green Knights Mechwarriors, tankers, and infantrymen gathered in front of the Mobile HQ, where Lt. Lyons and Cadets Higgins and Windham had just finished setting up a projector display.

At the Colonel's gesture, the projector switched on, showing a map of the main Espian landmass.



"This is the current political lay of the land," Gaius began. "As you can see, the deck is still very much stacked against us. Thanks to the Heavenly Sword's attack killing Governor Xiu and his inner circle, the last of the loyalist forces in Yuzhny Portveyn have fallen. The Espian Guards have moved a majority of their forces to secure the city, primarily now fighting with Heavenly Sword insurgents. Meanwhile, the Free People's Army have split the bulk of their forces into two smaller cells, one now operating in South Nui Awa, the other in Geum Haebyon. The cities of Nui Awa are the planet's major financial hubs, while Geum Haebyon is the largest industrial center. Because of this, you can expect the Espian Guards to dig in tight in both cities, while the FPA will do anything to break their hold."

The Colonel pointed out the new logos on the map, icons showing a drop of light blue water.

"These are the four main hubs of the Aqua Vitae Corporation, who control the desalination platforms that allow for anyone on this planet to have drinkable water. When Federov seized control of the government, he assumed the AVC would fall in line, but thanks to Director Jeong and a few of her like-minded board members, the company has yet to declare one way or another. If we can persuade a majority of the board that the Green Knights can be trusted more than the Crimson Fists should be feared, we have the potential for some massive financial and political influence."

Lastly, he highlighted the three logos of a red fist.

"These are the last sighted locations of the Crimson Fists," he said, a hint of a snarl in his voice. "While they are still operating as three separate Lances rather than concentrating as a whole Company, their movements are confined to a smaller and smaller area. To put it bluntly, they're closing in on us. If we don't move before they zero in on our location, they'll come at us all at once and wipe us out."

As gratifying as it was to have given the Crimson Fists a bloody nose during the supply raid, there was still the fact that the Knights were simply outnumbered at least two to one just in Battlemechs, and the Fists had an entire army at their disposal as well. Without a major change in the balance of power, a direct fight with the Crimson Fists was still near certain death.

"Fortunately," he continued, "Thanks to our visitor, we now have some vital intel that nobody in Federov's regime, Malenkov's command, or the Fists' company has. Ms Jeong?"

The Aqua Vitae board member approached the projector screen, acting as if she had always been part of these briefings. In truth, she had given so many business presentations over the course of her career that she could do them in her sleep, so a military presentation wasn't too much of a stretch for her.

"Thank you, Colonel Wayne," she said, careful to make sure she was addressing him by his proper rank, deferring to the fighting man when on his territory. "As the Colonel has already stated, the Aqua Vitae Corporation controls the largest commodity on Espia, that being fresh water. The Jeong family, however, has fortunes beyond that, having played a vital role in the planet's terraforming several centuries ago, and in the early mining operations that led to the discovery of Espia's neodymium deposits. Both of these ventures required a significant amount of infrastructure that became obsolete as soon as the air here was breathable."

"In particular," she said, making no effort to suppress a sly grin, "These early terraforming operations required a network of subterranean tunnels to transport heavy machinery across the continent. Tunnels big enough to move excavators, atmospheric processors, fleets of IndustrialMechs...or, say, a reinforced Lance of Battlemechs."

She mimicked Colonel Wayne's gesture to Lieutenant Lyons, who switched the projector screen to the next slide. It was the same map, but now crisscrossed with thick white lines.



"These are the tunnels used by the Star League Department of Mega-Engineering in the 2500s to settle Espia," she stated with pride, "Overseen by Executive Director Valten Jeong, one of my direct ancestors. After the Star League lost interest in this world, his grandson Dae-Sun Jeong founded Bari Gongju MetalWorks, expanding the tunnel networks for mining neodymium and other precious metals. In 2750, when the Capellan Confederation annexed Espia, BG MetalWorks was nationalized, and Michelle Jeong-Dulka bought into the Aqua Vitae Corporation. Thanks to House Liao's history of mismanagement, the MetalWorks quickly went under, but the Jeong family continued to make use of the tunnel network for mining and other business ventures, carefully editing public records over time to ensure their existence would become more or less a family secret."

She pointed out the white lines on the map, some interrupted by crack marks, and the red and green icons that punctuated each line.

"As I'm sure you can already surmise, the white lines represent a part of the tunnel network large enough to transport the Green Knights and all of your equipment. The green tunnel icons are entrances to the network that I know are still usable. The red tunnel icons, on the other hand, are no longer usable, destroyed by cave-ins or blocked by later construction. The crack marks are places where the tunnels have caved in, and will need to be cleared with demolition charges before they can be used."

"This will let us relocate without the risk of exposing ourselves to enemy fire," Colonel Wayne piped back in. "However, there's a risk of tipping our hand. If the enemy finds out about the tunnel networks, they'll start using them too."

As the Colonel stepped forward, Cassandra realized her portion in this presentation was over, and casually stepped to one side.

"The tunnel network is going to allow us not only to slip out from under the Crimson Fists, but will also allow us to conduct multiple operations at once."

Gaius gestured to Lyons, who again switched the projector to the next slide.

"Within 24 hours, we will use demolition charges to clear an entrance to the tunnel network and relocate. Our new location is in Sector J-13: an industrial scrap-yard known called 'Uncle Mack's.'"

The slide changed to an image of the scrap yard.



"Uncle Mack's is officially owned by Maxwell Metals, which in itself is owned by the AVC. Unofficially, 'Maxwell Metals' is comprised almost entirely of the Maxwell and Morozov families, two tribes of rather eccentric indig folks. In addition to a good 21 acres of spare parts and scrap metal, it also hosts a small team of Powerman and Loader King IndustrialMechs, meaning that it has fully functioning 'Mech bays, and that the seismic activity of our own 'Mechs moving about has a good chance of being mistaken for theirs."

"The Maxwells and Morozovs are both very welcoming families, as well," Cassandra added, "and have converted rather large portions of the old storage warehouses and the yard itself into living quarters. Do keep an eye open, however- not to perpetuate nasty stereotypes, but some of the Maxwell men have a habit of procuring new scrap in, shall we say, questionable ways."

"Thank you, Ms. Jeong," the Colonel said with a nod. "Strategically, Uncle Mack's scrap-yard is within easy access of both the cities of North Nui Awa and Geum Haebyon....as well as Fort Tie Shan. At this point a direct assault on the fort will still only get our people killed, but when the time comes, it will make for an easier extraction."

Nobody wanted to storm the fort more than the Colonel himself, but they had to find the right way to crack it first. Besides, there was more work to do on this planet.

"As our technicians and crew relocate to our new base of operations, you yourselves will deploy on three separate missions, which will go down concurrently."

The slide changed back to the world map, with three areas designated A, B, and C.



"Mission Alpha: there is a large hydroelectric dam in Sector I-16, on the mouth of the Tie Shan River. This provides power to both cities of North and South Nui Awa. Comms chatter picked up by Ms. Jeong's employees, and corroborated by Lt. Lyons and Cadet Windham, suggest that elements of the Heavenly Sword are planning to attack this dam within the next 48 hours. If they succeed, not only will they cut off the power to both cities, but the destruction of the dam will cause a tidal wave that could kill countless civilians.

Task Force Alpha will consist of Family Man, Steel Rain, and Giggles, as well as Sergeant Dalton's infantry platoons. Our new associate Mr. McCord will also be joining you, as the dam is AVC property. The orders are to lay low until operatives of the Heavenly Sword are spotted, then drive them away by any means necessary. If reasonably doable, your secondary objective is to take at least one insurgent alive for questioning, but neutralizing the threat is far and away your primary objective. Collateral damage is to be kept to a minimum, so make your shots count."

Moving his pointer westward, he highlighted the 'B' icon.

"Mission Bravo: there is an information broker in North Nui Awa who goes by the alias 'Stiletto,' who we have reason to believe is working with the FPA. Between what Ms. Jeong has told us and what we've been able to decipher from intercepted comms chatter, Stiletto is embedded with Espian Guard soldiers, gets whatever intelligence they can from them, then sells the intel to FPA operatives. Their most recent whereabouts are a dive bar in the far end of the city called the Diamond in the Rough.

Task Force Bravo will consist of Ramrod, Wyatt, and a fireteam from Sgt. Dalton's platoon. Your objective will be to identify and contact Stiletto, see what sort of intel they can give us regarding our enemies, and if they can get us in contact with the FPA. We have a small nest-egg of C-Bills we can access if Stiletto wants cash, but you are not to give away intel regarding the Green Knights. This bar is frequented by Espian Guard soldiers, so be on your guard. If things get hairy, Dalton's fireteam will pull you out."

The pointer then moved far north, near the top of the map.

"Mission Charlie: the spaceport near the capital city of Balya Gora has been under the control of the NPDRE, but some transmissions indicate at least one DropShip has arrived from off-world since the coup. It is very likely that whoever the Crimson Fists are working for, they're also providing new hardware for the Espian Guards. We need to know what is coming off of that ship, and who is sending it to them.

"Task Force Charlie will consist of Alley Cat and Desperado. The Raven can scout out the spaceport at range, with the Phoenix Hawk providing cover if needed. If a full scan of the spaceport proves not possible from a distance, or there is no approach without giving away your position, ditch the 'Mechs somewhere safe and approach on foot. Your priorities are to get sensor scans, photographs, captured documents, anything to give us an idea of who is supplying Federov and his cronies, and what they're sending against us. This is strictly reconnaissance, so do not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary."

The slides ended, and the Colonel stood before his Knights.

"These missions have a lot of moving parts, and I need to know you're up to the job. If you've got questions or concerns, I want to hear them now."

The speed of the total collapse of the loyalists came as a surprise to her, though on second thought it made sense. The CCAF weren’t particularly known for decentralized command structure, much less a garrison in the armpit of the universe. Some lucky ones may have made it out of the city and joined the FPA, assuming they could put their differences aside to face a more immediate and capable threat. Those that hadn’t were probably in for it. She wondered how many of them they would find in Tie Shan when they stormed it.

Before the briefing, Jon hadn’t been the most forthcoming conversation partner, but what they say about opposites attracting was true, because he and his boss were like Whiskey and Whisky. The Jeong family history lecture was a bit jarring amid a mission briefing, and was met with a puzzled expression. Cassandra was clearly the type of person who liked the sound of her voice, and now she had an audience. Regardless, the tunnels were like a gift from the gods themselves. She just saved their lives. Same with the new base, even if Cassandra was implying they might wake up one day and find their ‘Mechs on cinder blocks and even if Marit was skeptical of hiding their footsteps among IndustrialMechs. If you’re a Crimson Fist commander and annoying mercs are stomping around and breaking all your employer’s stuff, why would you not look somewhere ‘Mechs are stomping around just because they’ve been stomping there before? Especially since that place has facilities and materials the annoying mercs need to continue being a thorn in your side and the amount of stomping increases every time your employer’s stuff gets broken.

To keep the good news going, Marit could hardly be happier about the mission she was assigned to. Close to the new base, striking at loons spoiling to commit a massive war crime, with Jon on hand to share knowledge of the site and best of all, she wouldn’t have to get out of the ‘Mech. Only way it could be better would have been not having to defend something. Another thing that put a damper on the mood was the Crimson Fists presence. At the Depot raid, the CF lance that attacked them was reported further away than this one, yet they still managed to intercept them, likely due to their intel placing the Fists somewhere they weren’t. And a target this important - the dam, though no doubt they’d hear of their presence as well - was unlikely to go ignored. And they’d be coming from the North, meaning that if they arrived before the Knights got away, they’d have to go through them. ”Sir, do we know anything about forces stationed at the dam and the CF lance at Golf 12? Composition, how old that position report is…?” She supposed running into a different lance than last time was a safe bet, with the Fire Witch perhaps still being down a Raven, though the last one surprised them with a Longbow. What was this going to be? The Battlemaster? Some SLDF royal ‘Mechs they dug up from whatever forgotten bunker? A Steiner scout lance? ”And do we have any indication of what the Sword are bringing and from which direction?”

Raven Rivers

Raven bowed down a little in respect and said, "A mission which plays well to my bleeding heart and the others' talents; thank you, Colonel." He then continued, "I echo Marit's question; the Heavenly Sword should be down to Infantry and Suicide Trucks, right? But just in case they have an old IndustrialMech hid away or the Crimson Fists decide to show their ugly mugs, I think we should keep ourselves ready for a heavier fight. I also presume that we are not using lasers or incendiaries, considering your instructions on collateral damage. Also, is there a map of the civilian areas close to the dam, the areas most frequented by workers and engineers?"

Life was returning to his expression and his voice, that much was clear. He was eager, but not too eager, his judgment, somewhat more clear. And he demonstrated that he didn't miss anything obvious when he turned to Jon and said, "So, it seems you're a MechWarrior as well or otherwise acquainted with vehicles, considering the way the Colonel talked about you; perfect."

Then back to the Colonel for one last question, "Will we be departing immediately, or will we have a few hours to prepare?"

@Starlance@AndyC@Pilatus@Bork Lazer