Starlance

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Muttering a remark about keeping ‘all ten of her missiles’ in reserve for any aircraft, Marit waited for most of the people to clear out of the space where the briefing was held before she took her leave, heading straight back to the ‘Mech bays, now armed with a concrete idea of what they’d be doing. With four tons of ammo, an Archer-2R had enough missiles to make someone’s life miserable for two straight minutes. Not Archie. At some point in his no doubt storied life, one of his caretakers decided enough was enough and added three heat sinks. As a result of the weight saving measures necessary to do that, the salvo size shrunk from 40 to 35, meaning Archie could now make someone’s life a living hell for slightly longer.

At least that would’ve been the case if they weren’t shit broke. There was so much empty space in the ammo racks she could hide a small car in there. Climbing up the scaffolding that made up their ‘Mech bays, she joined a grumpy-looking technician enjoying a smoke break.
”Afternoon, Dave. So, half a ton of LRMs is 120 missiles, yes?” She asked, declining an offered cigarette with a shake of her head.
“Checks out.” He replied in a tired voice. Like all the men working on Archie, Lister had spent the previous days learning the ins and outs of the ‘Mech. Since Archie’s regular crew didn’t make it out of the city and were likely locked up at Tie Shan, the crew currently assigned to him was a Frankenstein’s monster made up of personnel from three different teams who managed to escape and who weren't more suited for a different active ‘Mech.
”And 120 divided by 15 comes out to… Eh…”
Lister let Marit struggle with the math for a second. “Eight.”
”Thank you. Eight volleys with the 15 launcher or 12 with one of the tens, so let’s put all the missiles into the left torso.“ She opted for more, smaller volleys and the option to switch to the second LRM-10 launcher if one became damaged, ”The Colonel wants them kept in reserve for anti-air, so it looks like lasers on this run anyway.”
“Well, Wyatt’s been through here a few hours ago, so if you can be sure of anything in the next twelve hours, it’s that the lasers are as good as they’re ever gonna get.”
Marit grunted in agreement, wrapping her jacket more closely around her as a draft picked up.
“Lovett said the Scrap Yard is opening tonight. You coming?”
”Normally I’d get a beer and watch, but tomorrow is an early riser and we have no beer.“ She half joked, ”If someone feels the need to prove their point to me with a fist tonight I’m game, but they’ll have to wake me up first. You?”
“Don’t talk about beer, that makes me miss it even more.” The tech grumbled, “Rimmer nearly took my eye out when he dropped a screwdriver from the scaffold, after I told him a hundred times to keep his smegging tools secured. Hope you bring back some porridge from the raid, he’ll be eating through a straw when I’m done with him.” He vented, pointing out a fresh scar on his head.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Unlike Tarak, Marit didn’t even bother stifling her laughter as she could practically see the steam shooting out of Ingrid’s ears. Despite her usual attitude, everyone had things that rubbed them the wrong way, and the Rasalhagenaar never kept her generally low opinions of nobility a secret. She would have even clapped following Ziska’s performance.

That said, she had seen enough barroom brawls before joining the Knights to see that Ingrid was about to blow a gasket for real. Swallowing a remark about Ingrid making mockery of herself and forcing on a neutral expression, she was about to try to douse the embers before something caught fire when the Colonel appeared like a specter and laid down the law. The man had ears everywhere. Marit would’ve suspected he had Huginn and Muninn on his payroll if it wasn’t verifiable that the Knights currently only had one Raven that saw everything in their ranks. All she could do was spare a look of pity for Ziska.

---

Some 250 km to target. The slowest vehicle they had was the Von Luckner at 50-odd km/h. In practice, it’d be less than that. It was looking like over five hours in the cockpit just to get there and another five plus to get back. Even more to get back if someone got their legs mangled in the fight or if the supply trucks had trouble with terrain. 15 minutes, give or take, according to the Colonel until problems started and who knew how long the fight would take when they did. The travel time meant waking up around midnight. At least the closest Crimson Fists Lance - she assumed - was just as far away according to the map. She found herself disagreeing with the senior MechWarrior though: Planning for success of this endeavor wasn’t foolish, it was the only thing they had left. In their situation, planning for failure might have as well included a shotgun with the trigger guard sawed off so you could pull the trigger with your toe. One of the tankers started talking shit. Morven, was it? ”Mate, WE are effectively guerilla layabouts. Or at least we will have to act the part if we want to live to see the end of the month.” Hiding between hit and run attacks was all they had left, their only hope being bringing down the opposition with bug bites.

”I wouldn’t be too worried about remaining loyal to house Liao. They probably have bigger fires to put out at the moment, otherwise they’d be here already. They’ll take Espia back eventually, but by then we’ll be gone, one way or another. Otherwise Mister Sameve makes a good point. And besides, who’s more likely to eventually help us storm a heavily guarded prison and then take over a spaceport: A loose alliance of guerilla groups or an organized force headed by actual leadership?” She opined.

”And speaking of ROE, what do we do if we can’t secure the supplies for ourselves? Deny them to the enemy?” She asked her own questions, still studying the map. According to the Colonel, the convoy would reach Yuzhny Portveyn in 24 hours. The shortest route that she could see was 12 hexes on the map. Roundabout 600 kilometers in 24 hours made for an average speed of 25 km/h, probably a bit faster in reality. Assuming a paved road, they could make 54 as a group. ”And if we’re delayed in arrival, do we pursue?”

The Conflict

The lingering sense of dread at their perceived impending execution had quickly faded. Now she was just confused. Confused by what was going on, why it was happening and how they were going to salvage this mess and get back on track. Fortunately, Edward started asking questions that could be safely answered, and whether he wanted answers or they were rhetorical, Yekaterina used the chance to regain some traction. “Our weapons aren’t directly related to our presence in your territory. However, it is true that we’ve been fed a series of apparent lies which, despite certain suspicions, we’ve had no way of verifying.” She tried to answer Edward’s questions. “You and your people took care of that, though you could’ve at least tried asking nicely first.” She knew there’d be a bloody big bruise on her right arm in the morning, and the others would no doubt have some souvenirs as well. “And what’s all this pish about ‘beast’ and ‘taint’? You sound like Gandalf’s better-dressed cousin.”

As if things weren’t difficult enough, all Hell broke loose outside, and by the looks of it, all over the city. Some of the images were dangerously similar to events that unfolded just three years ago: Open warfare in a shithole country, RPGs against soft targets and having no real clue what was happening beyond the immediate vicinity. All that was missing were tanks with ERA bricks filled with cardboard and some mass graves, and the latter was probably already there anyway. “Noise checks out.” She replied to Hayden asking about a war starting, “Best stay away from windows.”

Yekaterina wasted no time reclaiming her weapons. Pleased to see one of the kidnappers had the presence of mind to grab her sidearm after it got knocked out of her grip during the attack, she took care to move slowly as she checked over and holstered the weapons before pulling Bethan and Sean into a huddle once they had retrieved their gear, gesturing for Hayden to join. “By the sounds of what’s going on outside, getting out of the city would be some feat. Have to say you gents were right about Edik. If what we’re seeing here is true - and after the past thirty minutes I feel like it should be stressed that I’d second-guess if someone told me they breathe air - then taking up the offer to stay might not be that bad. If anything, if he’s not affiliated with either of the big companies like the situation implies, having a neutral ally can’t hurt.” She offered, pausing to ponder something before continuing. “Think we should bother asking about our goal here? If there’s no affiliation with either of the fighting sides, then what might he know about the Hyena and more importantly, does he want him or them around or not?”

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Passing by the other ‘Mech bays wasn’t an optimistic sight. Not even two Lances when the medical casualties were taken into account. But passing Ziska’s bay revealed more than the usual gaggle of technicians around the Raven, and spotting at least two other MechWarriors in the group, Marit went to take a look to see if perhaps the upcoming briefing was being discussed. With Ziska present, betting on the mission objectives or outcome wouldn’t surprise her.

Then another person showed up, and as the first words were spoken, she felt like she might owe Reya an apology. Between the blue bloods of the Green Knights, Reya had moments when she wasn’t bearable. Ingrid, on the other hand, seemed to have moments when she was, and it didn’t look like this was one of them.

”Acceptable morning everyone.” She greeted the group, figuring that was as good as it was going to get in the coming weeks, leaning over for Kerensky’s required daily scratch. ”What’s wrong with being a taxi driver? First ‘Mechs were construction equipment, their pilots were little more than crane operators, a cabbie is still a step up from that. Besides, everyone whose ‘Mech has hands will probably be carrying supplies on the way back from this run. Ready to add ‘lowly freight hauler’ to your resume?” She ribbed the deposed duchess with lighthearted irreverence.

Aces of the Void - Starfighter Squadron RPG

Likewise.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

The mood in the cave was dour, and even Marit was feeling a little down that day. First it was the unrest. Not bad, but hard to police with a BattleMech. While they still had access to the local HPG station, she’d at least been able to keep up with the Sons of Kalev on a regular basis. Knowing all was well back home had at least been a comfort, but now she could only take solace on that front from having remembered to point out that the riots might prevent outgoing communication - either through actions of the rioters, lack of time or deliberate attempts by the government to keep the trouble in house - so no one back home had any reason to take her silence for her death.

Then the local force pulled their power play stunt and casualties went through the roof hatch out of nowhere. Freddie and Lena were especially hard to swallow. A small cynical voice in her head might’ve said the lack of a Golden Boy around was a plus, but being an asshole wasn’t a valid reason to die and a skilled MechWarrior was always good to have, especially in their predicament. But as they say: The show must go on. She could only chalk her own survival and successful escape to luck in the form of being in the right place at the wrong time. When the order came to get out of the city, the lance she’d been assigned to was on the outskirts. They could’ve simply turned around and walked into the woods were it not for a platoon of mechanized infantry and some attached tanks.

The supply situation was another thing eroding the morale like rain on a badly planted field. Food and water were bad enough, but a lack of medical supplies and ammo would be putting a damper on the mood even if they weren’t needed, and though she personally didn’t mind cold all that much yet, a lifetime spent mostly aboard a Buccaneer did her no favors in this situation.

The last straw was the now empty flask of walnut rum in her pocket, having shared the last of its contents with Minhas and Ziska the previous day, the latter for letting her borrow the former for an hour to get Archie’s right elbow actuator working properly after an unfortunate brush against a particularly stubborn building during the desperate flight from Balya Gora.

Marit was jolted out of her musings by the Colonel’s voice calling them to arms. Normally a briefing was a trailer for an event that had the potential to be the end of you, and itself could be anything ranging from a routine to an annoyance and, as she had learned the hard way on multiple occasions, a chance to do some pushups, but now she was just glad something would be happening. The rookie MechWarrior excused herself from the group of technicians and civilians who were moving some boxes and tarps around in an attempt to improve privacy in the bunks and set out toward the ‘Mechbay that held her assigned Archer, the 70 ton machine slumped over as if asleep, looking almost peaceful were it not for the dents and scorch marks in several places. Marit figured she had ten minutes to make sure everything that was supposed to be there was there and how much - well, how little - ammunition she’d have to work with in the anticipated upcoming outing, ten minutes to get her personal gear ready, thirty minutes to wait out of sight if Reya happened to be near Archie and in a sour mood and was still left with ten to get to the briefing. She ignored the grumbling of her stomach, mustering up an encouraging smile for a few kids as she passed them along the way.

Marit wondered what they would be doing. Gathering intelligence? Getting supplies? Whatever the away team brought back, one thing was almost certain: If successful, they’d bring some hope. They’d complained about their shitty lot in life for long enough, and now the Colonel has decided that the time has come to do something about it

Deeds, not words.

Aces of the Void - Starfighter Squadron RPG

Who are we waiting for? I think everyone who's still in has posted, no?

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

All aboard the Oneshot train! Great idea @Bork Lazer.

Stage Fright

18th March 3029, 18:32 - Sartu system, Sartu c - Federated Suns

Strapped in, cooling vest working, neurohelmet linked. Don’t. Panic. Marit briefly consulted the clipboard with the cockpit’s layout she’d strapped to her thigh to make up for the lack of familiarity with the half-finished Dervish before firing it up. Nobody felt any need to rush the training, the repairs would’ve taken at least two weeks, and that’s after they found a new arm. Betty then came to life to inform Marit just how much of the ‘Mech was missing or not working, not doing her mental state any favors.

<Reactor: Online. Sensors: Online. Weapons: Error. Left arm: Destroyed.>
ERR: ML left arm - Disconnected.
ERR: SRM 2 left arm - Disconnected.
ERR: SRM 2 right arm - Igniter failure.
ERR: Center jump jet - Propellant feed failure.
LRM ammo: Right torso 0%.
SRM ammo: Left arm N/A.
SRM ammo: Right arm 0%.

“Yeah, I noticed.” She tried to be a smartass with the onboard computer as she dismissed the warnings taking up a good chunk of the display, only to find out her voice was trembling. Not a great start, and she was coming to regret the second bowl of Viili she had after breakfast, which was now looking to get back out due to the nerves.
“Deadstick ready. Up and at ‘em lads and lasses, Davions want their forgotten depot back.”
Then again, the Dervish wasn’t the only thing that wasn’t supposed to be in a fight yet. Most of the Sons agreed she shouldn’t have been there either. Wedge, Bear, Blaze. They were the ones who were supposed to be fighting.
“Half Pint, ready to atomize these fucks!”
Except Wedge was currently so high off her face on pain meds after the medic finished resetting her dislocated shoulder and five times broken arm back into place that all she could do was babble about shapes and colors, Blaze’s Locust was barely able to drag itself back to the pickup point and poor Bear was paste smeared across a mountainside after a failed ejection.
“Ghost, up and running. Marit, are you with us?”
She took a breath to steady her voice before replying to her mother’s inquiry, her heart racing as if trying to bash its way out of her ribcage. “Giggles, I am mobile.” She checked in, catching a glimpse of Half Pint’s Panther giving her a thumbs up.

“Bravo Lance, Kalevala. Alpha has pulled back to the depot. The hostiles have broken off pursuit, but I think they’ll be back soon. Proceed to grid square 327 Romeo 819 Juliet. Let Alpha draw them out of the rocks and into the open, we expect you to have a clear shot at their right flank once they commence their attack. Gods be with you.”
Then again, it could’ve been worse. They got over the initial surprise of unusually competent opposition, they had a good plan and she had her mother beside her and her father in her ear. The four Bravo pilots acknowledged as she subconsciously - well okay, it was intentional - kept her ‘Mech close to Idun’s Catapult.

Her BattleMech.

Despite her fear, the thought brought a warm smile to Marit’s face.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Marit Saarinen

Appearance

Height: 188 cm (6’2”)

Weight: 76 kg (167 lbs)

Callsign: Giggles

Age: 23

Archetype: Rookie out to prove herself.

Guiding Motto: Deeds, not words.

Fatal Flaw: Brutal honesty: Marit will say whatever's on her mind without a care and usually without being asked.

Expertise:

• Artillery.
• Sensor Operations.
• Negotiation.

Nationality: Rasalhague, Draconis Combine. No allegiance.

Bio:
Marit was born in 3007 into the Sons of Kalev, a mercenary company in good standing with the MRB mostly staffed by personnel of Rasalhague origin, operating on behalf of House Davion. A daughter of one of the Sons’ MechWarriors, Idun Lindgren, and a mission control officer, Joakim Saarinen, she fits the definition of a “mercenary brat” to the letter. Living among mercenaries on their dropship, the Kalevala, from day one and expected to eventually inherit the C1 Catapult passed down the generations of the Lindgren family, she’d been learning about BattleMechs and their operation since she was six. She first drove a BattleMech on her own at 15, saddling a clapped-out Locust the Sons used for training under her mother’s tutelage. She took part in her first mission in mid 3027. A band of supposed pirates raiding a remote military depot, the Sons retroactively coming to suspect they were in fact Taurians belonging to one noble or another, turned out to be much more effective than anticipated, leading to a sudden shortage of pilots and combat-ready BattleMechs. Marit was put into a mostly-restored Dervish the Sons dragged out of a lake they dropped it into a few months beforehand, even though it was missing its left arm and the SRM launchers weren’t working when she deployed, but who needs that anyway with two tons of missiles and two LRM 10 launchers?

What followed was a month of rebuilding damaged ‘Mechs and hiring new MechWarriors, followed by a fairly standard few months for a rookie mercenary MechWarrior, until fortune smiled upon the Sons of Kalev and the Saarinen family in late 3027, when Idun’s Lance managed to beat the brakes off a lone Marauder that wandered into it as it tried to reinforce its friends that were getting pummeled by the Sons. As one of the most experienced MechWarriors of the company and the one whose leadership led to its capture, it was decided it would become Idun Saarinen’s new ‘Mech. This event bumped up the date Marit would inherit the Catapult from “At some point in the future.” to “Whenever we get the Marauder running again.” meaning the pressure was now on to prove that she could be trusted with it. Eager to prove herself - in what in hindsight may have been a pretty stupid decision - Marit decided to leave the Sons of Kalev for a while to strike out on her own and signed on with Gawain's Green Knights. Babysitting a backwater Capellan world - whatever her displeasure at aiding the Confederation - should've been easy paycheck. Oh, how the tables can turn…

Personality:
Marit is a free spirit, eternally chipper, chatty, upbeat and completely lacking a brain to mouth filter. Notorious joker with a penchant for singing on the job and distaste for hot weather. With the Rasalhague people's placing high value on family connection, be it between actual family or a fighting unit, Marit treats the whole mercenary company as such, manifesting itself in a tendency to be on everyone's good side, handle internal conflicts peacefully and deescalate where tempers have already flared.

An inexperienced MechWarrior comfortable in the fire support role - though she’d be the first to admit a trained monkey could drive a LRM carrier - trying to live up to her ancestors, she can sometimes try a little too hard to prove she belongs, often to the amusement of more experienced MechWarriors, and in some instances to the detriment of the mission.

BattleMech

Class: Archer-2R

Type: Heavy (70 t)

Appearance: For the duration of its stay on Espia, the Archer is painted an old camo pattern from centuries ago with low-vis Green Knights insignia on the shoulders and above the cockpit.

Equipment: At some point in the past, the 'Mech's usual dual LRM 20 launchers were replaced with a combination of an LRM 15 launcher and two LRM 10 launchers in the right and left torso respectively, using the three tons saved to add three heatsinks (engine and each leg).

As part of the SERE kit, Marit has a semi-automatic shotgun loaded with slugs plus a bandolier with 16 spare ones strapped to the side of her ejection seat.

Edit 13/06/2022 - Fixed a typo.
Edit 17/06/2022 - Bio adjustment to make more sense within the game's timeline.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Inheriting a Catapult when her mother transitions to the Marauder. In the meantime, she wants to prove she can be trusted with it and won't screw up on day 1 and and ruin the 'Mech that has been passed down the family for generations. Trying to "earn it" so to speak.

That, and I thought rare 'Mechs had to be rolled for.