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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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 Posted - Mar 18 2008 : 17:14:24
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Chapter 15 - Laying Eggs
Tim and I look at the finished product, a winter camouflage paint job that looks kind of like the windswept plain north of us. I’m greatly satisfied, Rocker’s not only fully armed and ready, but now it even looks like it will be at home out here. There’s more to it, I feel like it really is finally my ‘Mech. The white elongated plus mark and the green circle around it still adorn the torso, but the bright blue field is gone under the new paint.
“You do good work, Sir,” I offer.
He rolls his eyes and grins, “yeah, I do.” I grin back and he adds, “but I have a pretty good assistant, that helps some.”
“Well, here,” I give him an envelope.
“Pink slip?” he asks, suddenly cautious.
“Well, it won’t open itself,” I retort, trying for all the world to look like a cantankerous pilot... or is that pirate? Hmmm, anyway, I don’t do a very good job at looking serious and he smiles and tears it open.
It takes a moment for him to register what’s inside. Well, actually, I think he suspected a credits voucher, but the size of it is what I think took the time. I’ve never been hugged by a man other than my da, but Tim breaks that barrier with a whoop that would make an ancient warrior proud.
“I’ll work for you wherever, whenever, you are the MAN!!! 100,000 credits!!!”
“Shhh, not so loud, that’s for you, not everyone who thinks they can get a loan off of you.”
“Whatever you say, Boss!”
“Take the rest of the day off, ok?”
“Whatever works for you, Boss.”
If Tim could do hand springs, I bet he would be doing them as he walks away.
“You making trouble again?”
I turn, it’s the Colonel. I didn’t hear him walk up, but he’s obviously here and wasn’t a minute ago.
Smiling, I answer, “nah, just sharing a bit of my largess with a good man.”
“You do much of that and I’ll have to ask you to leave; they won’t want to work for anyone else, much less those of us who are cheapskates.”
“Well, if I can’t put my credits to good use, what’s the point?”
“Fair enough. Care to make a few more to spread around?”
“What do you have, Sir?”
There’s a certain stillness on a snowy morning, but it’s lost to me for now. The flakes are coming down small and dry, none of the showy wet monsters, but still heavy enough to reduce visibility to 500 meters at best. The terrain is varied, scattered trees and brush with little places where the wind has begun building drifts from blowing snow.
“Looks like the storm is pretty light, Sir. The forecast is for it to pass tomorrow with less than ten centimeters total and no really high winds.”
“Works for me, Mam.”
“There does seem to be a big one building off the coast, but it won’t be here for several days.”
“Any news?”
“Oddly, Sir, none... at all. There is not even an archive any more.”
I’m running a wide 200km loop, stopping every couple of klicks to place a small oval device in the best cover available. It’s about time again, I find a nice small tree, move close to it, kneel the ‘Mech and... lay my egg. It actually entails flipping a switch that activates a small telescoping arm to place the device on the surface. While the Colonel didn’t say exactly what these are, I suspect they’re some kind of early warning or tracking system. I did my first run among the ruins of Oakland yesterday, last night he asked me to do this encirclement staying about twenty-five to thirty klicks out from the Refuge.
I’m trying to learn the countryside, find markers that would help me orient if I’m in a hurry, but there could be a ten thousand meter mountain a few klicks off and I’d never know it. It’s a winter wonderland outside, I’m only a transient element in the otherwise peaceful scene. A small herd of marat bounds away at my approach, leaving hoof-prints in a broad trail.
There’s something that bothers me about Alexis news that even the archive is gone...
“Alexis, would you please pull the three meters for our area and the one we were in with Tyrone?”
“Aff, Sir.”
Why is the news gone? What could possibly be gained from pulling old information?
I’ve walked about two klicks since the last egg, there are some largish boulders, walking to them, lets lay it here.
I’m about to flick the switch when I notice something, there is a small satellite antenna protruding just above the surface of the largest stone.
“Alexis, what is that?”
“It is not active, but it is most likely a relay station of some sort. Scanning for power now.”
I move slightly east, maybe twenty meters, and stop.
“No power detected.”
“Could it be a mine? How about explosives?”
“Neg, Sir.”
I’m about to ask another question when she interrupts, “Padraig, something is very wrong.”
“How so?”
“I have the new three meter for our area; the Oakland Refuge and surrounding areas, including the Oakland ruins, are out of focus.”
“I need to finish this run and report back. Please mark that antenna for me and send its position to Colonel Harper.”
“Aff, sent coordinates.”
We are about twenty-seven kilometers just east of due north from the refuge... I wonder if our position has some significance.
Whummp! Whump! Whmp. Wmp... the Argus heads out the doorway towards the sunlit snow. It’s last in line, the rest of Tyrone’s Terrors already leaving tracks in yesterday’s snowfall.
I have to admit it feels weird to see them tromping out of the bay. Actually, since I’ve never been on the ground to watch a ‘Mech move, I must say it’s a strange experience all by itself. Sonia’s a few meters closer to the doors, she was seeing Martin off, even waving as he went by. Now she walks over to where I stand at Rocker’s foot and looks up at the Raven.
“It looks ready. You busy today?”
“Not sure, Mam.”
“Harper hasn’t gotten back to you yet?”
I’m silent, unsure of what or how much to say.
“He’ll want you to go out early.” she says in a matter of fact tone that leaves me wondering if she knows or just guesses.
“Where are they going?” I ask, nodding towards the closing bay doors.
“You asking for yourself or someone else?”
“Me. It’s ok if you rather not say.”
“Tyrone never tells what the target is, but it’s east of here about 250 kilometers out... pops expects it to be an overnighter if not a three day for good salvage.”
“May I ask you a question, Mam?”
She smiles like she has been expecting something, “sure, ask away, Sir.”
“I’ve heard that you’re a pilot... is that true?”
She’s already nodding her head, “Yes, it’s true. My ‘Mech’s the Vulture down there in ten.”
I don’t immediately remember that ‘Vulture’ is the Inner Sphere name for a Mad Dog; by the time I do, she’s motioning me to come with her and walking that direction.
“My Vul’s the perfect compliment to pops’ Argus, he does closeups and I do the ECM missile boat. We were quite the pair, I’d call and he would take his aggressions out on whatever got in my way.” There’s a marked sadness developing in her tone, as if something has been lost. “Did you ever get to pair with your father?”
“No, Mam. We only had the one ‘Mech and da wasn’t even...” I stop, afraid I’ve said too much already.
She has stopped too, and is looking at me with a thoughtful expression.
“Are you really only sixteen?”
“How old are you, Mam?”
“Hmmm, smart man, that would work with most women... but I don’t mind you knowing that I’m almost twenty-one.”
It does surprise me that she has answered and I reply, “yes, I don’t turn seventeen until this summer.”
“Pops speaks highly of your skills, care to take a run together?”
“Huh?”
“I’m going out on a recy and I’d like your company.”
“A recky?”
“A recon run, 200km or so loop northwest of here.”
“You mean like a contract?”
“No, I mean like an afternoon out. Harper repays me if I get contact, but otherwise it’s just a fun time to keep myself sharp.”
My mind takes a moment to shift gears, the idea of running ‘Mechs side by side is familiar, I had fantasized about doing that with Zuzan so many times... Zuzan, how is she? Where is she now? My emotions must be painted on my face...
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trouble you,” Sonia’s staring intently, “we can do it some other time if you like.”
“No, no, it’s ok, Mam. I guess I could use the distraction. What time works for you?”
I often think of a horse at gallop when Rocker’s speeding along, now it feels more like a comfortable trot, but there are two of us... my mind’s eye imagines my painted and a chestnut carrying us both across the open ground. There’s a storm brewing to the west, but the sun’s still above it; the light here is intense and the snow and frozen grasses contrast with the brooding sky in beautiful ways. Sonia’s Mad dog is comfortable at 70 and except for occasional spurts of playfulness I’m sticking pretty close to the same.
Looking at the brewing storm, I think it good to ask, “Alexis, would you pull weather sats for me? Get anything else you think appropriate too.”
“Aff, Sir.”
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
The ground’s amazingly flat and level, carved smooth millennia ago when the ice sheets extended further south. What little snow there is has been swept low by constant winds.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
I look over at the running ‘Mech about twenty meters to my right. It doesn’t sway like mine, staying instead quite centered and even, the perfect stability for targeting with missiles.
I zip up to full speed and circle around her... she tracks me all the way without ever breaking stride.
“Now reverse directions and track back,” she proposes.
I dip hard towards her and behind again, but in a tighter circle and we track each other all the way back around to my original location.
“Nice.”
“Thanks, you too.”
“Thanks.”
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
“Sir, we have a problem.”
The hud looks normal, “what is it, Alexis?”
“The satellite allowed our connection but it is refusing our access to any data... the code has changed... and... I am disconnecting, I think it was trying to probe us.”
“Could that be routine?”
“Even if it was, it is not good... and if it was not normal, we are in trouble.”
I key the sequence Sonia’s on, “Mam, fyi, we just tried to access the satellite we normally get map and weather data on; the code has changed and it looks like there was some kind of probe attempt before I got disconnected.”
“Could they have gotten your position?”
“Neg, Sir,” Alexis breathes, “just general area unless there are sats tasked to triangulate.”
“No, Mam,” I reply to Sonia, “but likely they got a general area. If they are triangulating somehow, they might get close.”
“Have they ever tried to probe you before?”
“Neg... er, no, Mam.”
“I understand Clan Battlespeech, Paddy. Feel free to use it if you prefer.”
“Thank you, Mam.”
“I would prefer that you call me ‘Sonia’ some times. I would rather be a friend and equal than held at a distance. Makes me feel old and a little alone.”
“I’ll work on it, Mam... umm... Sonia.”
She laughs.
Backing into my current bay, number six. The afternoon has been wonderful, night is settled, and the run finished with no further issues. Time for dinner and an evening drill before bed. I need to see the Colonel about the satellite, I think it’s significant, but it may just be annoyance that I’ve lost that edge...
“Padraig, I have an alarm...” Sonia’s voice is upset, “it’s my pops’ emergency circuit.”
“What?”
“It’s only supposed to go off for an eject...”
“Can you locate it?”
“Yes. It’s about two hundred kilometers out, not even close to what he thought was their target.”
“I can be there in a couple of hours, give me the frequency and I’ll go have a look.”
She answers stoically, “I’m sending it, but recovery should be able to get him. I need to check in with the Colonel... I have a bad feeling that something about this is bigger than it looks.”
“Ok, let me know.”
“We have the signal, Sir.”
“Can we map it?”
The ten meter hemi comes up, zoomed to about a hundred meters.
“The blue square is as close as I can come with our current data.”
“Do we have that area in three?”
“Aff, Sir.”
“Three please, zoomed to the square.”
It’s rough ground, there’s a narrow river, the Corzu, its valley running almost east to west through it. Rough hills and deep narrow canyons dominate the rest. It’s ugly country for a ‘Mech, better with a chopper or even on foot. The valley is really the only route through, but to where?
“Please zoom out an order.”
Now I can see that there are several areas to the east that they could have been headed to, and that the narrow valley would have appealed just like the direct route to our last contract together had. The surrounding terrain would have probably seemed like good cover... unless someone knew they were coming.
There’s a tapping on the side of my ‘Mech. Looking up, I see Sonia crouching beside Rocker on the gantry.
“Open the canopy, please, Alexis.”
It rises with an almost painful slowness while I remove the neurohelm.
Sonia kneels, leans forward, and whispers in my ear. “Something’s very wrong. They say they aren’t getting any signals and no recovery crew is standing by, let alone dispatched. It’s as if the contract never was, no one’s admitting to offering one.”
“Would Tyrone go out for a raid without a contract?”
“Never, he wanted money up front, money after, and support to make it all profitable. Even if he decided to branch out, he would never have gone without at least salvage and recovery teams. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, umm...”
“And there’s something else, the Colonel suggested sending you to check it out.”
“Well, he thinks I’m dependable.”
“Have you looked at the terrain where the signal is?”
“Yes, ugly for a ‘Mech. Movement restricted to a narrow valley where an ambush could easily strike or rough ground that would need a jump capable ‘Mech... something I don’t have or really even know how to use.”
She nods, “yup, it’s too perfect a setup.”
“Do you have specifics on where exactly his signal is? I’m only getting approximates for direction and range.”
“Same here, part of that’s the mountain, we would have a sharper line if we were outside.”
“With a sharp line, we could move off line and triangulate.”
“My thought too. But the Colonel didn’t want me to go, only you.”
“What?”
“He said he thought you would be able to maneuver better if you can maintain speed.”
“Well, at least that would be true.”
“We are talking about my father.”
“And my friend.”
“What if I had a smaller ‘Mech?”
“What do you have in mind?”
She points down the side bay to the sign that proclaims Jared’s mark... the arms merchant. “Last I knew, he has a Wolfhound in his hangar, at least as fast as your Raven and with a good compliment of lasers too.”
“What’ll we do if we find Marty badly injured or... um...”
“Dead? That won’t be a serious problem, but if he’s injured it might be difficult.”
“Maybe we should just hire a recovery team.”
She looks at me like I might be smarter than I look, a smile starting to play with her mouth and eyes. “Great idea! There might be hope for you yet, Paddy.”
“If they don’t want to go, I will. You can come along if you want and we can arrange equivalent ‘Mechs.”
“I can come along? How nice of you,” she’s suddenly very annoyed, standing and looking at me like I’m not such a friend after all. “It’s my pops we’re talking about. For that matter, not only can I can buy any ‘Mech in here outright without denting my account, but I think you’ll find that I’m the match for any pilot here... you included.”
I have a sudden sickening feeling like I have eaten something that was not quite cooked right, “I didn’t mean it like that, Mam. I’m sorry. Can you please forgive me?”
Her arms are still folded across her chest, but I note that she’s tilting her head to the right, as if to see me better. “What did you just say?”
“I said that I didn’t mean it like that, I wasn’t trying to make you feel...”
“No, after that.”
“Ummm...” it takes a moment to remember, “you mean the ‘I’m sorry. Please forgive me’ part?”
“Did you actually mean that?”
I’m not sure if she thinks this is good or a weakness... what else was I supposed to do? “Yes, Mam, more than you can imagine.”
“You’re weird, boy.”
Great, now I’m alienating what few friends I have...
“Except for pops, I’ve never heard any pilot say he was sorry about anything, much less ask forgiveness. You are forgiven.”
“Excuse me, Sir...” Alexis interrupts, startling Sonia and causing her to jump just a little, “I no longer have the signal.”
If Sonia’s face could drain of color, it would have just now. Instead, after a moment of silence she races away on the gantry.
“Alexis, do you have any input?”
“Aff, Sir. The location was the perfect place for a trap...”
“Padraig?” Sonia asks over the comm.
I settle the neurohelm on my head and ask, “Yes, Mam?”
“How high a sequence can your equipment handle?”
“Nine channels; base and channel scramble, any order 8 or lower ciphers, maybe even a unique cipher or two,” Alexis whispers in my ear.
“Nine channels; base and channel scramble, any order 8 or lower ciphers and some unique ones too,” I reiterate for Sonia.
“Clan command gear, eh? Ok, stand by.”
“She is very smart, Sir.”
“Yeah, I know.”
A minute has gone by.
Now it’s my turn to jump, as Sonia unexpectedly taps me on the arm. I pull the helmet off and she hands me a twice folded slip of paper. Turning, she runs away down the metal walkway again. I start unfolding the paper...
“Sir, you might want to close the canopy before opening that.”
“What?”
“She ran all the way down here to hand you this because she does not want anyone to know what is written... can you be certain that no one is looking?”
Sheepishly, I agree with a sigh, “no, Mam; canopy down and dark, please.”
It seals and the ferroglass goes double pol black. I flick on the cockpit overhead light and read it... it makes no sense to me so I reread it, out loud this time, “base nicholas tacgreen, channels wolf orange fox zebra wolf green kerensky star wolf on mark two of four from today’s base.”
“Got it, Sir. Ready for her tone.”
“Huh?”
“I will explain later, Padraig. Right now she is expecting you to key up on your current sequence and tell her you are ready.”
“Oh... ok,” then keying the comms open, “ready.”
There’s a very brief tone. Silence. Another brief tone. More silence. Still another tone. There seems to be a pattern here, though the spacing’s just a bit off for a rhythm. Fourth time for a tone.
“Changing sequence now,” Alexis announces.
“Can you hear me, Padraig?” Sonia asks.
“Yes, Mam.”
“Good, I was wondering if you would know the Clan code names for the ciphers.”
“Alexis knew them,” I admit.
“I like an honest man.”
“Thanks. So, what’s up?”
“The signal was cut off. It had an embedded coding to that would only end a certain way if it was properly shut off and it didn’t. The eject pod was destroyed... that isn’t good.”
“Might your da have destroyed it to keep from being found?”
“It’s night and sub-zero out there, it’s unlikely he would have done so, since his only chance of survival is someone finding him via that signal.”
Silence. I’m trying to think of something to say and she must be doing the same.
“Look,” she finally offers, “time is of the essence now, maybe what we need is to be in two places at once. I’ll get a second ‘Mech equipped, but I suspect you have the equipment to detect any other eject beacons and give us a place to start searching. I’ll catch up when I can, in the mean time, you go.”
“You won’t resent me?”
“Yes I will, but not for anything you’ve done wrong.”
“What?”
“Just go. Keep this sequence up, I’ll be in touch shortly.”
“Outbound.”
There’s a faint bit of light still playing in the lowering clouds, but it’s otherwise dark. Off to the east, the horizon still shows a sliver of dusky blue under the advancing storm’s vanguard, but little else that bodes well for any ill equipped pilot facing the prospect of a night without shelter.
Thmp thmp thmp thmp, throttle’s at max. My heart wants to keep time, there’s something urgent in my mood.
“Still no contacts on normal emergency frequencies, Sir.”
“Please keep searching, Mam.”
I notice the first flakes settling through the gloom. The hapless ones that strike the windscreen quickly melt into water and slip away into the night.
The light amp shows nothing unexpected, the trees are few and though I’m running about 500 meters north of the road itself, there are no speed delays.
“Padraig?” Sonia calls.
“Yes, Mam?”
“Look, there’s something the Colonel isn’t telling me. He may be a good leader, but he’s a lousy liar; when I asked if he knew anything about the contract, he could not look me in the eye until he’d chosen his words very carefully. He’s doing the same thing while arguing against my following you out there... and I suspect that he was also doing it when he first recommended that you be sent to check on pops.”
An icy chill runs through me... “but that doesn’t sound like him.”
“Agreed. And that’s most disturbing, it’s completely out of character. Strength of character has been his greatest quality... such men only ever break if they are trapped into choosing a lesser of terrible evils.”
“What could be so big...”
“If he thinks it’s needed to protect the refuge, I believe he’d make horrible sacrifices.”
“Do you think I’m in danger now?”
“Maybe.”
Snow begins in earnest. Perhaps hurtling across ground that’s getting harder to see isn’t the best idea, I back us off to about 100kph.
Sonia calls again, “Paddy?”
“Yes, Mam?”
“Have you reached that perimeter of eggs you laid?”
“Not yet, but almost.”
“Swing into a patrol north or south along it; don’t cross it and stay away from the road. Can’t waste any more time, I’m coming out with the Vul... wait for me, ok?”
Turning the Raven, I reply, “Ok, I’ll go north.”
It seems counter productive to delay, especially for a slower ‘Mech, but the news about the Colonel has me worried and I would honestly be glad of the company.
“Sir, we are approaching an active sensor, looks like one we set.”
The perimeter: what could lurk out there beyond it’s range that’s so dangerous?
“Sir, I have an eject distress beacon from the same general area.”
“Can we get a line on it?”
“Already have, we need a good angle to triangulate.”
I swing the controller and we are running east.
I key up, “Sonia?”
“Yes, Padraig?”
“I have a pod signal, moving to triangulate.”
“Don’t go east of the sensors. I’m headed out the doors now.”
“I need a good angle, just be patient.”
“NO!!!!”
“CTC! Pair of high-speed Blakist aircraft, probably interceptors, from the southeast.”
Throttle up, turning into them and starting evasive maneuvers.
“Sonia, I have aircraft on intercept.”
“Blast you, Padraig, I told you to WAIT! GET BACK HERE!”
The first is at a klick before I get tone, as I launch my salvo I realize we are both firing locked ordinance. The pulse laser has vastly reduced range in the growing whiteout, sublimating too much snow and not hitting the target the sensors say is there. The hud provides an eerie view of the approaching missiles, glowing exhaust reflections appear as a growing pair of will-o-the-wisps. Instinct takes over and I’m turning the torso to spread the damage.
BOOM! BOOM! The gyros and I keep us upright, but the unused left arm’s gone. The first interceptor has met my missiles and is itself gone, but the second’s already firing unchallenged.
I kill the active probe and dance for all I’m worth, curling back around to head west towards Sonia’s support.
BOOM! BOOM! The force of the blasts is right over my head, the light amp nearly blinds me as brilliant detonations reflect remarkably well off thick snow-fall. I flick it off and run through the inky dark by bearing alone. I’m down to six percent on armor integrity over my head, the whole of the head and center torso’s plating is badly fragmented, nearly shattered, by absorbing the explosive forces.
“Approaching the perimeter sensors.”
I flip the active on and realize the approaching aircraft’s already lined up and screaming towards me. It locks on, mine proceeding it by a heartbeat. Missiles away, dancing across the perimeter space, almost safe...
BOOM! In a heartbeat’s moment, I see the billowing fire-flash and feel the crushing BOOOOOMMMM!
“Ejecting!” I know it’s Alexis who speaks and acts, but in the flow of time it happens far quicker than I can express.
TsshhhChnK! BAM! The harness has tightened me firmly into the command couch, the gyros are gone, and I’m accelerating upwards as if fired from a cannon. The g-forces are immense and building...
I’m getting a big sloppy dog kiss, when I look up, there’s Sabby with that “don’t ya want to get up and play with me?” look and a tail that keeps accelerating its wagging the longer my eyes are open.
“Siiiilly girl.” I say, sputtering and wiping dog spit off my lips. “No kisses!” I say in mock anger, but she isn’t fooled.
Sabby drops her paws from my chest and backs away, but the playfulness remains. A moment later, she notices her own tail and begins her merry game of making me laugh by frantically chasing it... running in fast tight circles so much that it makes me dizzy.
Hmmm, something different about my room, it’s as if on one side is a snow wall and the other a smooth basalt one. The posters are still the ones I always had, just the walls themselves are different.
Sabby runs back over to me with her favorite toy, a double knotted piece of heavy cloth rope that I’ve most appropriately dubbed ‘toy’. It was the first kind of toy she loved playing with, back when tug’o’war was endlessly fascinating and puppy growls so cute.
We start to pull; I half dressed in a nightshirt, she in the glorious thick winter-coat of snow-white fur. But it hurts to play and I let go... she looks at me with an almost motherly tenderness. Dropping toy, she gives my hand kisses, then rests her head on my knee.
Her eyes never leave mine until I lay back down and close them to rest.
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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Country: USA
| Posts: 241 |
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Mar 19 2008 : 16:32:06
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Chapter 15 - Choices
My head’s pounding, my shoulder in serious pain, and my legs feel like they’ve been tenderized by a merciless giant. I’m conscious again, however limited that may be, since the darkness is complete and the stillness absolute except for my labored breathing and rumbling heartbeat.
The harness has done it’s job flawlessly, I’m tightly ensconced in the command chair even though it seems I did not land upright. For the moment, I’m loathe to unbuckle; the folly of falling without a clue what is below me weighs greater than my current discomfort.
“Alexis, where are we?” I croak, finding that speech isn’t so easy in my current condition.
For the first time since I originally sat into this seat, there’s no answer.
“Alexis?”
Now I’m even holding my breath, straining to hear her... knowing that I never had to strain before.
What have I done? How could I have been so stupid? Have I really become as arrogant as my neighbors think all pilots are? Two interceptors were all it took to kill the mighty Padraig. Everything I’ve ever done in my Raven now seems like just so much luck.
It’s so still and so dark. Am I deaf? Blind? Dead? Well, at least two of those questions are answered, I manually lift the neurohelm visor and can see a couple of pulsing LED indicators. Taking the helm off I resolve the third also, I hear a faint repeating tone, probably letting me know that an emergency beacon is working.
“Alexis?”
Still no reply.
The weight of my folly’s nearly overwhelming. Da died to help me get the Raven away, Sabby, too.
What was it Alexis had said about her chip? A hardened blue box under the chair, if I remember right. I can’t reach the bottom of my chair from here, perhaps it’s time to unbuckle the harness...
BAM! Ooohh, that wasn’t nice, I’ve fallen into my windscreen and console, and not in the most painless manner.
What else will I need to take if I try to make it back to the refuge? The emeralds, the other chips from the storage box, anything else? I manage to reach the nearby box and the emeralds are quickly relocated to a cargo pocket on the cooling suit’s right leg. One of the small chips falls, plinking dully on the ferroglass before bouncing into some cranny, the others behaving more respectably and slipping into a zippered pocket on my arm. No, I realize I have no clue what they are for, but granpa kept them, why shouldn’t I?
I do notice that the pod’s not perfectly stable, it seems to rock a little when I move. Perhaps I can get it normally upright by shifting my weight enough to get it moving. It will be easier to get to Alexis’ box if I’m not twisting my ankle or banging my head in the process, so I commence. The pod must not be too buried in the ground, it only takes four good heaves to get it to rock back enough that I can sit normally in the chair, even if I’m not quite level from all directions.
None of the lights work, but I finally remember that there’s a small handheld unit in the service box left of the chair. It seems a veritable beacon in the deep dark, everything seemingly new and unique in its feeble magnificence.
There’s the small blue box, with a simple white cable connected to it. Unfortunately, there are no instructions on it, what was it she said about it self-destructing?
There’s a distant rumbling sound, enemy armor perhaps?
No choice, I have to get it out now. The service box has a fastener socket that fits and I unscrew the retaining bolts.
The rumbling has grown into a more distinct ‘whummp whummp’ sound matched with a powerful shaking vibration. Now I would guess that it’s a ‘Mech, come to finish the job.
I know my time’s running out, but rather than unplug the box, I look for something to cut the wire with. Finally, I spot a tool distantly resembling linemen’s pliers and snip the cord about six inches back. The box barely fits into the left leg cargo pocket, but now I’m ready to go...
The ‘whummp’ has morphed into a ‘CRASH! CRUNCH!” that rattles the pod with each jarring exclamation. I need to get out NOW!
It seems that I overlooked one small detail in my escape plans... how do I open the canopy?
Outside it has become deathly quiet. Oddly, I can see faintly outlines of things my flashlight’s not directed at... there’s light coming in through the ferroglass window.
Is it morning already? That’s not right, it can’t be day already... can it?
I almost jump out of my skin as a loud tapping starts behind the command chair.
I shift around to the small space behind the chair, there’s a service panel there that I’ve crawled into before to work on my gyros, but I would swear that it’s where the tapping is coming from now. I twist the locking handle and it falls open to reveal the most wonderful sight I can imagine... Sonia’s face.
Colonel Harper’s a cool customer, he’s sitting across from me, looking for all the world like he has absolutely nothing he would rather do than chat...
Sonia, on the other hand, could probably eviscerate a bear with just her look.
“So you destroyed the pod?” he asks.
“Yes, it ended the beacon and will make it harder to know if anyone died in it.”
“Good.” His smile’s inscrutable.
“You knew they were waiting for him, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” There’s no remorse, no concern, nothing more than blunt acknowledgment.
Now it’s my turn, “What?!”
He looks me in the eye and replies, “if I have to trade a good man for the lives of the civilians here in the refuge, do not deceive yourself, I’ll do it every time.”
“I’m missing something, aren’t I?”
“No, I think you have a good idea what happened. Just to be safe, however, let me spell it out: the WoBs were supposed to have gotten Tyrone and company weeks ago, it just happened that you came along... you managed to gum up the counter attack enough that they lost everything, including a high ranking commander and his Atlas. I was informed that I must make sure the Terrors could be taken or they would bring the entire planet’s forces to make an example of us. We can’t repel thirty-eight ‘Mechs with armor and air support, they would cut their way in and kill or imprison everyone here. I gave them the Terrors...”
“YOU KILLED MY FATHER!!!”
Undaunted, he continues to me, “They still wanted you, now they’ll think they’ve gotten you also.”
“YOU KILLED MY FATHER!!! YOU... You...” She’s seething but words fail her.
The Colonel looks at her with something distantly akin to compassion. “Yes, your father’s dead, I’ve seen a confirmation. I suppose your beliefs prevent you from challenging me to a duel.”
Sonia gasps, her eyes widening while fixed on his face. Something of the wrath dissipates, but it’s replaced by a double dose of pity.
For a moment it’s quiet, then she replies, “yes, they do.” Silently standing, she turns, and walks for the door. Without looking back she clearly states, “It’s too bad that you don’t believe in anything that cowardice can’t overcome.”
She’s thru the doorway and we’re alone. He has lost his color, the face I once thought strong is grey and drained of authority.
“You knew there was a traitor on that first mission?” I ask.
Refocusing on me he replies, “Yes. You’ll remember that I tried to convince you not to go out with them.”
“Did you set them up?”
“No more than I did today. As I’ve said before, there are powerful greedy men here, the contracts were both legitimate... it just happens that I knew about them. I did cancel the recovery orders, I won’t send good men to die needlessly. You yourself helped the WoBs this time around, those sensors you placed use signals that are easily hacked and monitored, they certainly knew what crossed our perimeter and which way it was headed... I would also guess that they now have a satellite tasked for the sole purpose of tracking units here. By the way, the storm should cover you when you leave... there’s a gap in the northern boundary where you yourself noted the antenna. You can pass unrecognized by the perimeter within about two klicks of it.”
“What if they know about that gap and are there waiting?”
“No, I have other sensors there that are not so easy to misuse. The route’s clear. Buy a ‘Mech, take what’s yours and be gone before too many questions put you at risk again. I would advise taking Sonia with you if you can, you two would be good for each other, at least until you reach the Bay.”
“The what?”
“On the Northwest coast there’s a region where smugglers and resistance have the firepower to keep the WoBs out. Dropships sneak in there and you can get off-world transport. I would recommend investing in the best ‘Mech you can afford and putting anything you have left into gemstones; without c-bills, they are your best bet, more useful than gold and easier to manage.”
“You sent me out there to die.”
He looks at the polished wood surface, then answers, “I knew it was likely that you wouldn’t come back, but once again, you’ve made it through. I am impressed.”
I stand, all the while looking at the man I had so badly misjudged. “I’m sorry, Sir, but I’m afraid that I am not.”
From the doorway, I glance back... he’s still sitting where I left him, looking at his hands with an unfathomable expression graven on his features.
The door rolls open; Sonia invites me in with a feeble gesture and no words. I would guess that she has been crying, but she’s trying to put a good face on it. There are several boxes out, half stuffed with clothes, household goods, various implements, and the miscellaneous components of daily domestic life. In other spots there are big piles of clothing and stacks of food containers.
“Are you leaving too?”
“Yes, Padraig. I don’t belong here.”
Surveying the piles and boxes, I ask, “you taking all this?”
“No, I’m taking very little, but I need to sort what I can’t part with from what I can sell or give away.”
“Are you doing ok?”
“No. But I’ve been given enough strength to make it through.”
“I was going down to look at the ‘Mechs at Jared’s, care to take a minute to help me make a good choice?”
“No, Paddy, I don’t think it’s a good time for me to do that. Your crew chief would be better for that right now.”
“But you know how I run...”
“They had a Thor that should be finished from salvage repair. If it hasn’t been shipped out you might consider it; it’s a powerful ‘Mech worth learning.”
Not knowing what a Thor is, I simply nod. We stand in an uncomfortable silence.
“Look, if there’s anything I can do...”
“Not right now, Paddy.”
“Ok, let me know if you change your mind.”
There’s an unexpected compassion in her comment, “Why don’t you check back after you get Tim started on a ‘Mech?”
I smile, “sure, Mam, I’d be glad to.”
Timonorthus peers out from a service panel just below an opening where a laser muzzle protrudes from the huge Summoner’s chest. He shouts, “it will take a day or so if you want this one working, looks like they were just trying to get everything buttoned up and ready to go... I don’t think they have this Clan wiring quite right.”
“Come on down,” I reply loudly enough that he hears. He scrambles onto the yellow maintenance stand and down to the concrete beside me.
“Well, Boss, if you like it, we are looking at a day to get everything in the cockpit ready, half a day to hang weapons from the arms, and at least a day if you want anything mounted in that bay to work.”
“How did the engine look?”
“Ok... it’s not the top of the line, but it’s still Clan Tech and it’ll do 80 or so. The myomer’s in great shape in most places... there’s some wear in the thighs, I’d guess it did a bit more running than it should, probably don’t want to stay at full speed for more than a few minutes at a time ‘till you can swap it out.”
“How long to do it now?”
“A week unless you get me some help.”
“How many would you need to get everything done by tomorrow night?”
Tim looks hard at me. “So the rumor’s true, you’re leaving?”
“Yes, Sir. I have good reasons.”
“Do you know what happened to the mercs?”
I look at him and wonder just how much I know this man. “No specific details, there were some eject beacons, but they were gone by the time my Raven got killed. Why, do you?”
He’s evaluating me in the silence. “Folks are saying it was a trap and you knew about it... that’s why you started the argument with Tyrone that got you kicked out.”
“Do they suggest why I was willing to run out and lose my own ‘Mech if I knew it was a trap?”
“No. Not saying I believe them, just saying.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
“Are you being honest with me about what you know?”
“I’m telling you as much as I safely can. I can flatly say that I knew nothing at all about them even having a mission until they walked out this morning. You’ll have to come to your own conclusions beyond that.”
“Fair enough. If I can pick my crew, I can have eight guys on it in about an hour. It’ll cost, though, probably 60,000 to 70,000 for the day.”
“Done. If it’s ready by nightfall, I’ll add a bonus for everyone.”
He smiles, “works for me, Boss.”
“Let’s see what Jared has for those,” I say, gesturing at the empty weapons rails at the end of each arm.
“Padraig?” Alexis voice fills the seemingly cavernous cockpit.
“Aff, Mam, good to hear you again.” To Tim I say, “that got it Tim.”
He crawls backwards out from under the console, avoiding the command chair and my sore legs in the process. Grinning, he says, “Kind of figured that you wouldn’t be entertaining a lady with me still down there.”
“Things have changed, have they not?” Alexis queries.
“Yes, Mam. You remember Tim, don’t you?
“Hello, Tim.”
“So that’s what the fancy AI sounds like. Wouldn’t mind hearing that voice all day, guess that makes it worth the effort.”
Alexis says no more, and I don’t really care to correct Tim’s apparent impression that I’m just a self-indulgent pilot wanting my favorite artificial intelligence unit to replace the Summoner’s stock one.
“Her voice brings back a lot of memories, that alone makes it worth the cost,” I say and Tim nods understandingly. As he exits the hatch onto the gantry behind us, I pull my neurohelm from the bag, connect it, and don the familiar headgear.
Now I hear Alexis directly, “thank you, Sir. Summoner, good choice. CLBX and Clan Gauss, ER Large Pulse Laser; an odd assortment of weapons to be sure. I would guess that you selected them as the best that were available. It may take you a while to get comfortable with the changes to tactics from size and weapons. Would you like to start drilling now?”
“Neg, Mam. Please keep track of repairs and test everything that’s already installed. I’ll fill you in on the situation as soon as possible. Got a few more things to do and I still need some sleep. I plan to leave later, probably early this evening. If I can get a drill or two before then, I will.”
“As you wish, Sir.”
I pull the helmet and climb around the command chair into the space behind. There are more places here to store things, my few elements of clothing and my book seem lost in the area available, though I suspect that it wouldn’t take much to time to collect enough stuff to again seem cramped. The hatch and crawl-way back to the exit are utilitarian, I can see through the wires and frame to the power plant, the massive gyros, and other parts of the interior structure. Through the back hatch exit onto the gantry. Looking down I see what looks like a painfully long fall worth of handhold steps... that’s how I’ll have to leave when I’m away from a gantry. I climb out and onto the extruded metal of the walkway.
There’s a youngster standing there, looking for all the world like he’s totally lost. At first I presume that he’s just some ‘Mech fixated kid, but then he speaks...
“Ahr yew Paddy? Diid yew no mah paw?”
While I’m not entirely certain that I know what he has asked, I think I can come close enough to counter, “are you Joe’s son?”
He beams back, “yup! Kiiller Joe iz mah paw.”
“I never knew he had a son,” I say while offering the lad my hand. He shakes it vigorously as I continue, “pleased to meet you, young Sir.”
“Ah’m Bobby.”
“Pleased to meet you, Bobby.”
“Dew yew no whar mah paw iz?”
“I’m sorry, what was that again?”
He looks a bit exasperated; raising his voice just a bit as if I were hard of hearing and adding a pause between words as if I were slow, “Dew... yew... no... whar... mah... paw... iz?!”
Trying not to be too frustrating to the lad, I say, “I’m not sure,” all the while still trying to get my sleepy brain to handle the translation into English. Then it clicks and ‘do you know where my pa is?’ rattles my somewhat settled sense of control. I crouch down to his level, my eyes even with his, compassion coming over me like thick fog settling on a quiet lake.
He sees my expression change and there’s a fleeting look of fear. The moment has passed; now he’s playing stoic, expressions mostly drain away and he’s trying to hold his chest out to prove he’s strong.
“Where’s your mother?”
“Dohn gaht nun.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Ahyt hohm.”
“Alone?”
“Yahss.”
I’m not sure which is more worrisome: that Bobby seems to be alone here or that I’m almost starting to understand him without thinking about it. Without considering my action, I take him by the hand and we walk down the gantry to the long flights of stairs down. On the concrete I turn and take him to the garrison duty officer.
“I need to find out if there’s someone who knows what we need to do for Bobby here,” I indicate the child.
“Is he lost?”
“He father was one of the mercs that went out yesterday.”
There is a look of disgust, “Take him to his mother...”
“It seems he has none.”
He looks down at Bobby, pity mingled with disapproval... I suspect that poor Bobby’s guessing without being told, but he blurts out his question anyway, “Dew yew no whar mah paw iz?”
The officer looks at me. “You will need to speak with the Colonel.” Gesturing at the little boy, he adds, “Might tell him first.”
Bobby’s looking from one face to another, searching desperately for an answer. Why did he have to come to me? Why do I have to tell him? Why did Joe even bring him here in the first place?
I start to turn and he reaches up to grab my hand... poor little guy, I walk with him to a bench and sit him down beside me.
“How old are you Bobby?”
He’s fighting tears, he knows what’s happening and I don’t have the skill to know how to gently destroy his world. He bravely holds up five fingers when his voice won’t work. Five, damn, at least I was sixteen when my da was ripped from my life. He’s starting to cry and I lift him onto my lap, discovering as I do that a tear has escaped my control too and is sliding down my cheek.
“Bobby, your pa isn’t going to be coming back.”
“NO!!!!” Bobby wails, beating his little fists like soft hammers on my chest.
“I’m so sorry, Bobby.” I don’t know what to do except wrap my arms around his little frame and let him cry.
His beating stops and he just wraps his arms around my neck and sobs over and over, “No! Paw! No!”
If there is a God out there, I need some way to know what to do for this poor kid.
As if in answer, Sonia walks by, arms loaded with gear and bags, on her way to her Mad Dog. She glances at the crying form and almost as an afterthought at me and is a step further on before she freezes. Turning slowly she looks at me and then down at the back of the loudly sobbing youngster.
“Padraig?”
“Sonia.” I don’t know what to say, but my expression must be pleading for help because it draws her to my side.
Bobby looks up at her for a moment, tears great in his very bloodshot eyes.
“This is Joe’s son, Bobby.”
Sonia gasps and reaches out a hand to gently stroke Bobby’s hair. His arms never leave my neck, but I can feel him relax just a bit at her caress.
“Bobby, this is my very good friend Sonia.”
“Bobby, my pops was with your pops.”
Bobby now has a bad case of hiccups, but manages to say, “yew mayen hay wuz wiid paw?”
Sonia pauses for a moment, as if she’s making sure she understands, the replies, “yes, Bobby. My pa can’t ever come back either.”
There’s some bond formed here and both have tears that glisten in their eyes.
“The duty officer said I had to see the Colonel about what must be done.”
Her eyes sink to Bobby’s face again, “I’m glad it’s you and not me. You know what he will say, don’t you?”
I don’t, but a nasty suspicion starts rolling around in my gut.
She continues, “Joe wasn’t from here, he was an offworlder here like pops and me...”
For some reason it had never occurred to me to find out where Martin and Sonia were from, I had always assumed it was just a different part of the continent or at most another continent.
“... so Bobby will have no official status. Mercs are not residents or citizens, Joe would never have brought him unless he had no place else.”
Bobby’s trying to rock in my arms, his little body moving back and forth. He knows we’re talking about him, but I wonder how much of it he understands.
“Bobby,” Sonia asks, “where would you like to go now?”
“Tuh see paw!” he hollers, then settles down a bit again.
Sonia’s all compassion and is stroking his hair again, “I’m sorry Bobby, but you can’t do that anymore.”
“Den ah stahy wiid Paddy!”
They both look at me, he with a trusting expectation, she with a sensitive caring. I, on the other hand, am stunned, dumbfounded, lost. His little face is right in front of mine, he’s convinced without a doubt that I wouldn’t even think of saying no. Then he senses the turmoil I have and his certainty begins waning... there are the tears again, running from his eyes to his little chin.
“Yew dohn wahn me, dew yew?”
“Bobby,” Sonia interrupts, “Paddy wants what your pa wanted for you... he wants to do what’s best for you.”
I nod and he looks from my face to hers and back again.
Colonel Harper looks like he no more wants to have to see me than I want this interaction, but it’s equally obvious that the deck officer has informed him that I’m here and why.
Looking first at me and then at Bobby, he says without any discernable emotion, “the child is offworld born, he came as the minor child of a mercenary in direct violation of several laws. There are two options: take him with you when you leave or leave him with us to enroll in the Basement orphanage.”
I’ve seen that place, it was dark and dismal when I passed it my first day exploring. I would not want my worst enemy’s kid left there.
“Not much choice, is there, Sir?”
“Nope. You get to make the tough decision this time.” There’s an acidity to his voice, “see how easy it is to live with yourself when you have to condemn someone.”
“I’m no one special, but I won’t leave a child to rot like that. I want access to his things so I can make sure he has what he’ll need.”
He looks over at the deck officer, “transfer everything that the merc in question owned or had access to over to this man.”
I lift Bobby in my arms, he senses that he’s leaving with me and hugs me close.
Colonel Harper looks at me, “I don’t expect to see you again.” With that, he turns and stiffly marches off.
Sonia’s door opens, she sees Bobby standing beside me, holding my hand and looking somewhat happy... and she visibly relaxes.
She squats down to Bobby’s height and says, “I’ve been praying for you Bobby, that you would find a protector.”
“Whutz ah prewdreckdor?”
“A pro-tect-or is someone who looks out for you, makes sure you’re ok.”
“Prew dekd er,” he tries to imitate with some success.
“Getting better, good boy! Try one more time for me, ok? Proh tttekttt ohrr.”
“Pro dekd or.”
“Very good,” I chime in. “Well done, Bobby.”
Sonia nods for his benefit and then approvingly in my direction too.
“You look tired, Paddy.”
“Haven’t slept since yesterday morning.”
“I guessed. Go get a nap, I can watch Bobby for a while,” she pauses and addresses Bobby, “is that ok with you?”
He looks at me and I motion towards the spare room, “I’ll just be in there for an hour or so, ok, buddy?”
He looks annoyed, “ahm Bobby!”
I smile back, “I know that, Bobby. ‘Buddy’ means ‘good friend’ or something like that. I used to know a guy who called his little brother ‘buddy’, so if you’re going to be my little brother, can I call you ‘buddy’ as well as Bobby?”
He looks grave, then suddenly brightens under an immense smile, “Yeahs! Ah ahlwayz wahntd uh bruder tew.”
Bobby follows me into the sitting room and stands there by the sofa while I sit, slip my boots off, and get ready to lie down.
Unexpectedly, he lunges at me, gives me a big hug, and says, “ah luv yew, Paddy.”
Sonia, standing in the doorway, smiles. Bobby runs to her and takes her hand.
“Wake me in a couple of hours, ok? I need to get my remaining gear and his stuff too.”
“As you wish, Paddy.”
It strikes me that it is an odd answer for her to make, but sleep overtakes me before I can ponder it further.
“Excuse me?!” Standing at the counter in The Orion Exchange I’m somewhat stunned at what the girl behind the counter has just said.
Bobby tugs on my tunic to get my attention, but the young woman across from me rechecks her display and carefully responds, “Your account shows 127,780,611 credits plus whatever is in your storage box.”
I had expected next to nothing after buying the Summoner and supplies, and that after having had to sell the rest of my smaller emeralds and all but one of the larger ones just to make sure I could pay for everything.
Bobby isn’t to be denied, he now energetically jerks on the leather of my tunic and loudly exclaims, “Ah gahda goh tuh da bahthrume!”
Looking down, I can see a pleading in his eyes, whatever he wants, it’s something of an emergency.
It’s the teller who understands him, or at least his intent. “The men’s room’s over there,” she points. As I turn, she adds, “I need to get a manager anyway for this much, so it’ll be a few minutes.”
I need to learn to understand him better, this is becoming a real challenge and we aren’t even in a walking ‘Mech yet. Bobby’s trying to run faster than I’m walking and pulling so hard on my hand in his urgency that I just let go.
He looks back at me pleadingly and I wave him on, “go ahead, buddy, you’re a big boy and I’ll be right behind you.”
He beams and bursts for the doorway like a somal after a rabbit.
“I originally considered it likely that nothing you could do would surprise me. I was wrong.”
Coming from almost anyone else, this assessment might have left me with a sort of self-satisfied pride... coming from Alexis, however, it simply adds to the sense that I’ve made a terrible mistake. Tim has just finished securing the miniature command couch behind and a little to the right of mine in the cockpit. He’s routing a series of wires to mount a small display in front of it.
“Does he really need that?” I ask.
“Trust me, Sir, you’re the one that needs him to have this.”
The comment strikes me as really odd, but then again, I can’t honestly remember what it was like to be five.
One of the techs crawls to the hatchway and hands Tim a child’s play version of a neurohelmet; man, this kid’s going to be spoiled.
“Headset working, Chief,” I hear him say before retreating back the way he came.
The once spacious cockpit’s now overcrowded with cargo nets full of Bobby’s clothes, toys, blankets, and other stuff, tied and shock corded to every available inch of free space. Considering that the storage bins are already bulging, I feel more cramped than I did in Rocker.
“Sir, Sonia’s asking for an estimated time for departure.”
Tim, who has become a bit more familiar with Alexis, answers for me, “he’s probably thirty minutes out on the ‘Mechanical front, will be starting pretrip in five.”
“Thank you, Chief,” she replies, using the title his coworkers prefer.
Tim looks at me with an interesting expression, seemingly mixed between pity, respect, compassion, and pride, “you can get the little tyke now, Boss.”
“Thanks, Tim. This is for you and your team, divide it as you see fit.” I hand him an envelope which he immediately tears open.
“Any time and any place, Boss.” he whispers while unexpected tears well up in his eyes.
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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Country: USA
| Posts: 241 |
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OldNo7-OMO
frequent visitor
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Posted - Mar 19 2008 : 23:33:46
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Really enjoying it ,keep it comming!
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Government big enough to supply everything you need is big enough to take everything you have ... The course of history shows that as a government grows, liberty decreases.
Thomas Jefferson
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Country: USA
| Posts: 125 |
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Mar 20 2008 : 16:43:27
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Chapter 16 - Trials and Tribulations
“It’s about time!” Sonia’s annoyed voice rings in my ears, leaving me with a continuing sense of doom at my incredible shortsightedness.
It’s easily two hours after I had originally expected to leave. Bobby has finally settled into his new chair, I still have some semblance of sanity, and my only worries are that Alexis will revolt or Sonia will empty her missile racks into my back. Well, let me correct that, my only worries for this moment.
The snow’s still falling heavily, but the wind has picked up and there’s now almost no visibility at all. The ‘Mech’s tall and ungainly, the gyros not nearly as smooth as those in Rocker had been, and I feel every gale-force blast that wraps the white blanket close around my armor. The only advantage to being an upright sail in the teeth of the storm is that I’m above the ground effect’s total whiteout... from my perch in the cockpit I seem to be swimming neck deep in a dense white flood.
BAM!
The gyros go crazy...
“What the...”
“I can’t see a thing, don’t you stop in front of me, boy,” Sonia’s no longer annoyed, frustration and anger have replaced the lesser emotion.
“She rammed you, Sir,” Alexis comments with marked disgust.
“I’m only doing thirty myself, don’t run over me.”
“How am I supposed to know that? What are you, some old lady?”
“I can’t see the ground in front of me, if you want to lead, have at.”
“And I can’t see ANYTHING, moron! You’re in the lead, just do it.”
“Dohn yew pihk ohn mah bruhder lahk dad!” Bobby hollers, fortunately only for Alexis and my benefit; thankfully Tim gave him no way to key into the comms.
“Look, I don’t know the ground well enough to go any faster, this ‘Mech’s new enough to me that I can’t be sure I’ll be able to handle an unexpected fall at higher speed. If you want to follow to the post across the perimeter, just back off.” I’m trying to be agreeable, but I’m stretched to the point that frustration’s leaking out of me too.
“Paddy, Ah cain see nudin!”
“Bobby, there’s nothing to see right now.”
“Whahy?”
“Because it’s night and the snow storm’s too thick.”
“Whahy?”
Now I’m struggling, should I try to tell him about global weather patterns, climate challenges, or winter weather, or should I just tell him to be quiet for a while?
I settle for trying to be positive, “It’s a big storm and it’s winter, buddy.”
“Whahy?”
My brain rebels and I say, “it just is! I need some quiet, Bobby!”
“Padraig, you need to keep your finger off the key when you’re hollering at your kid.”
“Dohn yew pihk ohn mah bruhder!”
“Thank you Sonia, I knew you would understand.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Paddy.”
“And adding to my stress right now doesn’t help the situation.”
“Ah wahn sum wahdr, Paddy.”
We’re three klicks north of the perimeter, if the Wobbies are coming, they’ll be here soon. I’m not sure that I don’t actually want them to show up, I could use the chance to blast something into oblivion.
The storm hasn’t let up, but here the whiteout rages closer to the ground. Sonia’s cockpit is above the undulating white sea, what I can see of her ‘Mech is encrusted in blown snow on one side and pretty clear on the other.
Bobby has finally managed to fall asleep. He’s had a horrible day and I pity him for the first time in hours... I hate to admit it to myself, but silence makes him immeasurably more bearable.
“Ten meter hemi on us, please,” I whisper, not wanting to wake him.
The map comes up and I look for the next cache.
“What are you waiting for?” Sonia asks loudly, her voice breaking the stillness and causing Bobby to stir.
“Alexis, can you kill the headphones on Bobby’s unit?” I’m still whispering.
“Done, Sir. Peace and quiet is worth something, quiaff?” Alexis is answering at normal volume, but I get the sense that I’m the only one to hear her so.
“Yes, Mam, thanks.”
“Padraig?”
“Yes, Sonia?”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for the next stop point.”
“Why? Aren’t we going to look for pops?”
“Huh? What? Didn’t you hear what the Colonel said?”
“Yes. Do you mean that you believed him?”
Sheepishly, I have to admit, “well, yes I actually did.”
“I’m not leaving him until I know for sure.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” I know the instant I say it that she isn’t but I hope I’m wrong.
“Go where you want, I’m looking for pops.”
With that, the Mad Dog turns east and begins an easy lope towards where the horizon should be.
Women! Honestly, they will be the death of me. The thought seems familiar, I wonder how many older, wiser men have said the same in my presence at one time or another. But I also know it’s the right thing to do as I swing the controller and begin following her.
Somewhere around midnight I feel a sudden jerk. The ‘Mech has stopped, but the throttle’s still up about half.
“Alexis?”
“That’s better, Sir.”
“What happened?”
“You fell asleep at the stick. When you wouldn’t respond, I shut the throttle down rather than have us fall.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“What was the last thing you remember before we stopped?”
The mind-numbing sameness of hours of green light-amped versions of the snowy grey above and swirly white below seems to stretch forever in my mind.
“I don’t know.”
“How many times did I call your name?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were asleep.”
“I’m just tired. Lets get moving.”
“Neg. You need sleep or you can’t control the gyros.”
“Sonia, I need a nap.”
“Don’t mind me, I’ll go on ahead.”
“How will I find you?”
“On this sequence, silly.”
I yawn, my jaw would unhinge if it went further. Sleep steals in like a mothling gently lowering towards an unsuspecting spider.
Sabby and Bobby are bouncing joyfully through a knee-high field of triticale, oblivious of the damage to a wide swath of young plants. Their play is boisterous and free, not a care or worry intrudes.
“You have done well, Paddy.” It’s da, he sits beside me on the tractor’s motor housing and we look down across the peaceful scene.
“I don’t know, I’m not like you Da.”
“Patience takes time, Paddy.”
“Do I have time?”
“I don’t know and the One who does hasn’t told me. You’ll have to wait to find out.”
“I’m a little scared, Da. I don’t feel ready to take care of him.”
“I didn’t feel ready for you either. None of us ever feel ready to be responsible, it usually has to be thrust on us.”
We sit in silence and watch as the dog stands over a giggling Bobby, barking madly and giving him lots of kisses.
I realize I’m alone again, just the wind in the vibrant green field and the sounds of distant play from a boy and a dog.
It’s almost dawn when I recover my senses, and Bobby’s the alarm clock that does the actual deed.
“PADDY?! YEW AHWAHYK YEAHT?!”
“I am now, Bobby.”
“Guud. Ahm huhngray.”
“Not right now, Bobby.”
“Ahm huhngray!”
Why did I think I could take care of a kid?
“Alexis, please turn his mic off.”
“AHM HUHNGRAY!”
“It is off already, Sir. The child has strong vocal cords and a willingness to use them... it is your mic that is carrying the sound.”
Outside the snow has relented some, but what has already fallen is still embroiled in a waist-high ocean blowing eastward at a blistering pace.
“DEW YEW HAAR MAY?!”
I wonder when sunrise will come.
“Please engage the throttle, Alexis.”
“PADDY?!”
“Aff, Sir. You may move when ready.”
“PADDY?!”
I throttle up and the ‘Mech starts moving.
“PADDY?! DEW YEW HAAR MAY?!”
“Bobby. If you yell at me, I’ll ignore you.”
“AHM HUHNGRAY!”
“Bobby, did you hear me?”
I can barely hear him, but I think he said something like yes.
“Alexis, can we put a volume filter on his mic so I can hear him if he isn’t yelling?
“Aff, done, Sir.”
“Bobby?”
“Yeahs?”
“Yes what?”
“Jus yeahs.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘yes, Sir’?”
“Whahy?”
“Because that’s respectful.”
“Whahy?”
“Because I say so,” slips out of my mouth almost before I realize I’ve said it. Since I was little I’ve sworn I would never give my child a lame answer like that, now I wonder at how quickly such a major resolution can fall.
Unfortunately, Bobby has no more respect for this answer than I did...
“WHAHY?!”
I key the sequence and ask plaintively, “Sonia, where are you?”
Her refreshing voice responds, “about fifty kilometers from where I left you, been moving at about 100 degrees off true north, taking it slowly...
“What? Driving like a little old lady?”
“Thanks a lot. Yeah, it was easier when you led, I don’t have an active probe on this.”
“Headed your way, be there soon.”
I push the throttle to near max, the sooner I catch up with Sonia the better.
Sunrise has come, for a brief moment stealing under a cloud edge to splash showy rose and apricot onto the dominant whites. The storm seems almost passed, and snow only blows about our ‘Mechs’ ankles.
To the north, there’s a large body of frozen water, I pull the ten meter and notice that it’s Lake Oodai, the ruins of the mechbay north of it. There are hills to our south, we are coming even with the ridges that will eventually lead to where the battle likely was. The river ahead, the Corzu, is indeed the one that runs into the narrow valley we think they took. The scene is idyllically beautiful in spite of the dangers it may conceal. Sonia’s Mad Dog is the only visible manmade interruption to the natural splendor.
“Dadz pridday!”
While I’m getting better at understanding, I have no clue and choose to ignore him.
“Alexis, do you have any signals at all?”
“Neg, Sir, not in the normal bands. Would you like me to check lesser used frequencies?”
“Aff, please do, Mam.”
“What do you suggest, Paddy?” Sonia unexpectedly asks.
“Ahr way dayer yayet?”
“I don’t know. Alexis is checking the off frequencies, but had no traffic on normal channels. Hey, this was your dance, why should I come up with the answer?”
“I don’t know, just wishing you might have something better than me.”
“What have you come up with?”
“Well, so far, just charge right down the valley and hope that: one, the WoBs are gone and two, that pops is near enough to us to flag us down.”
“I hope you’re kidding.”
“Paddy, Ahr way dayer yayet?!”
“Please come up with something better, because I’m not,” Sonia replies.
“No, Bobby, we aren’t there yet. Alexis, I know we didn’t get the triangulation line on the second signal, but didn’t we get a first one on it before... well, before I got stupid?”
“Aff, it is along...”
She stops in mid sentence and even Bobby stops talking to himself to listen.
“I have a weak signal on an odd frequency, Sir, it is coming in and out, but it seems to be a pattern of tones... three short, three long, three short again, followed by enough of a pause to indicate separation, then repeating in a long loop. I am searching for... it is an old distress code, ‘SOS’.”
“Where’s it coming from?”
“The line goes through the Lake Oodai mechbay.”
“Could it be a trap?”
“Possibly. The signal, however, either originates a very long distance away or it is exceptionally weak.”
“Sonia, there’s a very weak distress signal coming from an area north of here, in the direction of a ruined mechbay.”
“North is the wrong direction.”
“I think we should check it out.”
“I don’t.”
“Have you come up with a better plan than your last one?”
“No.”
“I think we should check it out, it would give you time to think of something a little more reasonable.”
“You go check on it, I’m not going anywhere the wrong direction.”
“Fine, suit yourself.”
“Fine, be that way.”
“Fahn Fahn Fahn!” Bobby half hollers, half sings.
I catch myself smiling at his childishness as I swing north and throttle up.
I can feel tension and adrenaline surging through me, the ruined bay’s barely a klick ahead, and the signal’s definitely coming from it. I’m almost due east, moving slowly and fairly carefully along the wall for some amount of cover, weapons cleared and ready.
“Whuddr yew dewn?”
“Shhh, Bobby, I need to concentrate.”
“Whuds kahnsindrayd?”
“Its what I can’t do if you’re interrupting.”
“Whuds dahyat?”
“Bobby, be quiet.”
“Buhd ahm huhngray.”
“I’ll get you something to eat after we figure this out, but you need to be quiet right now.”
Still no sign of anything coming out of the hole in the wall... and my ‘Mech doesn’t have ECM now, I’m out in the open.
500 meters.
200 meters, there’s a hint of a shadow in the snowy wall.
100 meters, there’s the door slot and some of the wall.
Now or never! Throttle up and torso turned to strafe whatever threat may be... and for all the things I’ve seen and done since last fall, I haven’t been more surprised than I am now.
Throttle to zero. I’m facing a nearly destroyed ‘Mech, large slices of its torso armor pounded entirely off to the point that the cockpit interior shows. It takes me a minute to even recognize it... without it’s ‘ears’ and with big sections of its skeleton exposed, this Catapult has seen better days. Considering the muzzle locations and the damages there, I would guess that it’s entirely disarmed. That it’s even standing at all is amazing.
Something moves to its right, a man bundled against the cold stiffly hobbles from a sheltered fire out into the open to face me, his arms over his head in the universal sign of surrender. I zoom on the mostly covered face and it’s Bobby who recognizes him first...
“PAW!!! THAT’S PAW!!! PAW, I’M HERE!!!”
It is indeed Joe. Frighteningly enough, I am understanding Bobby clearly...
“Alexis, can you turn on a speaker for the outside?”
“Most certainly, Sir.”
“PAW!!! HELLO THERE PAW!!! I’M HERE, PAW!!!”
The man’s arms fall a bit and he uncovers his face, looking up at my strange ‘Mech with a wondrous look.
“Joe, Paddy here. Are you ok enough to climb up to the cockpit?”
“Hell yes!” He shouts before disappearing at a sprint towards my feet. It occurs to me that I understand Joe too, even though I’m still aware of the drawl.
“Alexis, unseal the hatches, please.”
“Aff, Sir. You may want to kneel the ‘Mech unless he is a great jumper.”
“Thank you, Mam,” I reply, as the ‘Mech sinks to one knee.
I’m sure it would take me a minute to work my way up the handholds, but Joe’s crawling into the cockpit after barely twenty seconds.
I don’t catch all the words, but it’s safe to say that Joe and Bobby are having a joyful reunion.
Joe looks at me finally, “I thank you for rescuing me. I thought I was a gonner there.”
“You are most welcome, Sir.”
He looks at his son in his arms and asks the next logical question, “Paddy, why is Bobby here?”
I wonder how much the man can guess, and how much is good to tell him, but in the end I just go for the truth as best I know.
“We knew that the Terrors were hit and all indications were that you were all dead. The Colonel wanted to put him in their orphanage, the only other choice was take Bobby myself... so I brought him with me. I was given everything that you had, so you can rebuild your life with that. I don’t think you want to go back there again.”
“Was that Kernahll rahspahnshahbull for whud hahbben to us?
I finally grasp that he’s asking if the Colonel was responsible for what happened.
“Partly. Far as I can tell, the contract was real, but Harper let the Wobbies find out what they needed to trap you.”
Joe’s livid, “I’ll kill that...”
“No,” I interrupt, “you are out of there and Bobby’s safer... and happier... with you alive. Revenge wont get you off this rock, even if we could walk back in there again. Three men have already died, please let that be enough.”
Bobby chimes in, “Please Paw, please don’t die!”
Joe looks at the little face so close to his own, then back at me, “Paddy, you are older than you look, aren’t you?”
“No, Sir, I look my age.”
“Nope, you look like a boy, but you sound and act like a man.”
I look like a boy, but sound and act like a man... the honor bestowed in the compliment almost brings me to tears. No one has ever said such to me.
“Thank you, Sir,” is all I can muster.
In the silence Bobby wraps his arms tight around his da’s neck and cries quietly.
“How come you came to look for me if you thought I was dead?”
I look him in the eye, “we didn’t come looking for you. Sonia wanted to find her pops, she needs to know if he’s alive or dead.”
“He’s dead. Saw it with my own eyes.”
I think he’s being honest.
I key open the sequence, “Sonia, I have an unexpected guest.”
“Yes, and?”
“He says he knows where your pops went down.”
“Does he now? And just how would he know that?”
“Well, I’ll let him tell you...” I nod to Joe, who has just seated himself on a pile of Bobby’s garments and softer things, while Bobby sits happily in his lap.
“Dayaht yew Sohnya?”
“Who... Joe?”
“Yeahss Mahhum, shore iz.”
“How...”
I can almost see her stunned face as she grasps for words.
“Mah Cayat hauz juhmb jayahts. Ah wuz da ohnlay won wiid juhmb jayahts ahn eeben dayn ah gud luhkayr dayn du rayasd ub dayem.”
“Paddy, did you understand a word of that?”
Joe looks at me and I have to nod; with a grimace, I try, “he had jump jets on the Cat. He says he was the only one with jump jets and even then he got luckier than the rest of them. You should see this Catapult, too; it’s so shot up that it’s an absolute miracle that he’s alive.”
“Dayahtz dah trood tew.”
“Stay there, I’m coming.”
“Then I cleaned out the last of their other larger gems, got two ancient books, a supposedly 1500 year old katana, and the rest in bullion. So everything’s here, Bobby and your fortune. We just need to get your ‘Mech working and you’ll be ok.”
Joe looks out the windscreen at the Catapult and shakes his head, “that ‘Mech is about dead.”
I can’t say that I disagree and once she understands what he said, Sonia’s of the same mind. I pass around a plate of corned beef again and everyone has another slice. The space is all the more cramped with four of us, but we’ve found a way.
“We need to see where pops went down, then we can take you with us to the Bay.”
“Ahm taylen yew, ah saw dayem blayesd dayad axkayp pahd.”
She looks at me again.
“He says he saw them blast the escape pod.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
She looks at me, helplessly pleading with me to prevail on him.
Looking him in the eye, I state, “Joe, we know you’re telling the truth, but Sonia needs closure; to put it to rest she needs to see it for herself. If you don’t want to go, I really understand, but it will take us longer to come back for the two of you if you stay and don’t actually show us where it was.”
He looks between the two of us and then nods at Sonia, “I’ll show you. You want me to ride in here or with you?”
They both look at me.
“Ok, they ride in here.
It’s the perfect place for an ambush. Steep canyon walls with flattened tops to provide shooting platforms enclose the spot, the road in and the river it follows enter through a narrow passage and exit through a similar one. The entire encirclement’s a klick diameter at the most, barren except for some low brush, nothing that could have afforded protection to even a light ‘Mech. Two thirds of the way across the space is the mangled mound that once was the mostly molten remains of a black knight. Slightly nearer at hand is one that still sprouts the footpad of an Argus. The Mad Dog stops in front of it, I wonder what Sonia’s thinking.
At the far end of the zone I come on the remains of the boulders that Joe said blocked their way, they have been blasted away. The roadway shows overlapping huge footprints where the snow has blown away, some of the ‘Mechs must have been assaults. Fortunately, there do not appear to have been any since the snowfall and we continue to the creek bed that Joe has identified.
I turn left and start up the narrow channel, Sonia not far behind. Joe and Bobby have been talking quietly since we left Lake Oodai, now it’s silent in the cockpit except for the heavy distant thmmmp thmmmp of the Summoner’s feet. Higher we climb, over snowy spots and large rocks on the dry waterway.
“Left up there.”
I turn us into the edge of a thin line of trees. In the rear view I see Sonia’s ‘Mech make the same turn. This isn’t like the Raven, I’m sitting as tall as most of the treetops here; it takes some time to negotiate the trunks from my perch, but I eventually get the hang of it. Higher we climb, and higher still. I reach a stretch of recently burned trees, now the going’s easier.
“Over there,” Joe’s pointing.
On the edge of an open area I see a small slag pile. Throttle to zero.
Sonia walks her ‘Mech past me, then stands by the pile of metal. The Mad Dog kneels and I see her dismount. In the frigid air, her breath floats in a smoky trail behind her as she approaches the damaged metal. I have no clue what to do to help her, she’s kneeling there in the snow, a hand reaching out to the wreckage.
Joe and Bobby are still, they too are watching her and waiting.
A minute has past.
Ten minutes.
Suddenly she rises, walks back to her ‘Mech and mounts to the cockpit.
“You boys still there?”
“Yes, Mam. You ok?”
“As ok as I’ll be for a while. It is pops’ pod. If he was alive, he’d be near enough to come to me while I waited. He’s dead.” There’s a long pause. “I’m done now.”
It seems anticlimactic at best, but she’s satisfied somehow. The ‘Mech stands and turns back towards us. I wonder how many things in life that are supposed to turn out well won’t, then realize that Joe and Bobby probably won’t see it like that.
“Sir, there is a distress call on all general frequencies.”
“What is it, Alexis?”
“The Oakland Refuge is under attack, Sir.”
Sonia keys on, “are you picking up a distress call from the Refuge?”
“Alexis, let me hear it, please.”
“... teen enemy ‘Mechs with air and armor support. All piloted defense ‘Mechs are down, any resistance or mercenary assistance requested and will be compensated. Please assist immediately! This is Oakland Refuge! We are under sustained Word of Blake attack! There are sixteen enemy ‘Mechs...” I key the channel off.
“Yes, Mam,” I answer Sonia.
“Let them die I say,” is Joe’s opinion.
“Paw, how can you say that?”
“Alexis, three meter, please.”
I can see it, we had been heading to bypass on the north, we are a solid hour from the perimeter, fifteen minutes or so more from the passage that would leave us undetected through it.
“Want to try your new ‘Mech out on some WoBs?” Sonia sounds like she wants to pick a fight.
“Only if you have my back. I just need to figure out where I can safely leave the passengers.”
“You just run on in there, we’ll be fine. Just kick some Wobbies for me, ok?
I can hear Joe buckling Bobby into his little chair.
“Go geddum Paddy!”
“Never mind, girl, my passengers want to come too. If we can get to an unpiloted ‘Mech, it might be worth having Joe anyway, I think he has some payback in mind.”
“Dahyam sterayed!”
“I’m with you, Padraig. Let’s save some innocents,” she answers.
The image in my mind is my neighbors and their kids. Suddenly I’m ready to walk into an inferno. Throttle to 70kph. To my right, Sonia brings Vul to speed too. I head for the north access through the perimeter, no sense letting them know we’re coming.
“Bobby?”
“What, Paddy?
“I need a name for this ‘Mech before I go into battle. Can you help me pick one, buddy?”
“I like that.”
“What?”
“Buddy. Like me.”
I can’t see his little face, but I imagine it’s grinning ear to ear.
“Ok, Buddy it is.”
Thmmp thmmp thmmp thmmp. We are twenty klicks out and I can see smoke in the distance. Sonia’s on my right shoulder.
I key up, “Ready, Mam?”
“Yes, Sir. You?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be. Lets rock. Alexis, some battle music, please.”
An ancient Irish tune starts, fiddle and drums and whistles and flutes and instruments I haven’t learned about yet, all picking my blood up and in perfect time with the Summoner’s footfalls.
“Yeee HAAAWWWW!!!” Joe hollers from somewhere behind me.
“Yeee haaawwww!!!” Bobby echoes.
“I guess we all like your selection, Mam.”
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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Country: USA
| Posts: 241 |
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Mar 21 2008 : 18:22:26
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Chapter 17 - Impossible Odds
“CTC! Two klicks, choppers, probably their perimeter.”
“Sonia, got choppers, lasers only, save those warheads please.”
“Think we’re gonna need them, huh?”
I blow a noisy raspberry at her and add, “yes, Mam, I suspect so.”
Visible range, yup, eight choppers, and some are turning for us.
“Well, we got all dressed up, lets go dancing!”
The pulse reaches out five times and the fifth starts exploding before the first has reached the ground. Temp climbing, though, need a bit of cooling. The other three are closing, evasive action now... tone from the closest just as I pulse him out of the sky.
“CTC! Two mediums 1500 meters on 175, moving fast towards us.”
“Sonia, two mediums 175 true.”
I push the pulse and my temperature, now the ‘Mechs are our threat as the remaining choppers fall in sundered pieces for the ground.
“Paw, I’m hot!”
They don’t have cooling suits, I forgot that... “sorry guys, forgot I have company. I’ll try to keep it cooler.”
“Just you kill them.”
“Heavy traffic on five or six different sequences, Sir.”
“Thanks, Alexis.”
From my right a shower of missiles leave their tubes, Sonia has a target and is unloading.
There they are, another Sha Yu and a Bushwhacker, the latter apparently soon to be the recipient of Sonia’s gentle introduction... he’s trying to turn, but it won’t be enough.
Sha Yu in my sights, I can hear the sonic boom as my gauss magnetically hurtles a hypersonic iron cannonball into the Sha Yu’s nose. Its shot spoiled, its lasers slice meters deep into the landscape. The Bushie’s appearing from under a fireball, flat on its chin in the cold mud, face blackened and in places stripped of armor altogether. Cool enough to fire again, pulse on the Bushie torso and my first kill of the day detonates.
“YAAAAA!!!!” Bobby has become my cheering section.
“Can’t get a lock on the Sha, he’s too fast.”
“He’s mine.”
“CTC! A full lance, 1800 meters at 145. Looks like at least one heavy.”
“Sonia, fall back at bit, we have serious company coming.”
“You falling back?”
“Not yet, but I’m your front man, remember?”
“Sure, old man...”
She has fallen silent before she releases the key, but she’s also falling back a bit. The Sha Yu is trying to get a clean shot at her, but I’m in no mood to let him. I’m no longer the ‘run-away’ ‘Mech, I’m the hunter. The gauss reaches out and misses, but the pulse hits his nose twice in rapid secession, molten armor dripping to leave smoking pools of hardening metal in the winter dry mosses.
Running right at him. He turns to target me, only realizing too late that he's lost track of Sonia... a hail of missiles shears through his damaged nose and I see the eject fire him into orbit.
BAAMMM! Damage to my right leg armor, two thigh panels cracked.
The lance’s leads have arrived. I’m running towards Sonia, but with the torso turned to face my adversaries. These four have seen battle already, there’s serious damage on each. Gauss at the little trash can that seems to be out of place in the open here... I struggle to remember what it is called as the round punches a car wide hole in its mostly blackened torso. It’s stopped, but its lancemates don’t. The first real challenge will be a pair of Thanatos, they aren’t holding back, but coming at full pace.
“Hang on back there, this is where it gets exciting.”
I still appear to have range on them, my next gauss round smashes hard into the right one’s chest. A shower of armor fragments flies from the impact, just missing a blackened area that probably reflects serious damage. Pulse on the same spot, there’s a hole, I just have to hit it again. The next pulse hits his shoulder, however, and he’s still coming straight at me.
“CTC! Fast air, from 180.”
No rest for the weary. Where did that third ‘Mech go? Ouch, a FireAnt is wide on Sonia’s flank, the Thannies are almost in range for their big muzzles, probably heavy LBX shotguns. I drop a lucky gauss at the right Thanatos and as I turn I see something like a lightning ball erupt within visible gaps in its shell. The first interceptor’s mine, the pulse rips its nose away, the second the same.
Boom! Booom! I rock twice, the gyros at full torque to resist the massive hit to my left arm, left torso and right leg; damage indicators go red on the arm and orange on the others.
Recenter legs and torso, running right at the Thannie, he has closed the gap, but he’s also now in range for the full force of my LBX.
Booom! rolls through my frame as the monster shotgun sprays fist sized pellets of explosive gel onto his center torso, followed quickly by the hammering concussion of the gauss’ cannonball. The ‘Mech seems hesitant, he had not expected the charge, perhaps. Sonia has locked, there seems to be a steady four seconds of missiles punching him, and his next shot kills so many frost chilled worms.
“Paddy! I need help!”
The Thannie’s still up, but not for much longer, shotgun into his chest as he turns back at me, pulse laser again, and finally the gauss rips though the thin layer that remained and destroys something critical. From the way he sways, I would guess he has lost his gyros, but I haven’t time to watch.
“Coming, girl.”
“Bout time, boy.”
The Fireant’s far faster than either of us, but my torso turn rate coupled with a good step back centers him for the shotgun. Now only the distant Urbanmech limping along towards us...
“CTC! Two, no four... check that, presuming ECM on some, you now have two entire lances moving this way, Sir, one at 175 the other at 210.”
I can see them on the grid, the closest is just over a klick out.
“Two lances coming.”
“Low on missiles here, I won’t be much help.
“We need to make a run for it, I can’t handle that much fire alone.”
We both turn and lope north, running forward but torsos reversed to face back towards them.
Bammmm! Damage on the right torso... where did that come from?
“Alexis, what was that?”
“Light gauss, I can’t tell which ‘Mech has it, but he has the range and can work as a sniper right now.”
I begin to dance, changing course slightly and twisting torso. The lances seem to be holding good discipline, their lights and mediums are staying with the slower units... we are starting to pull away.
Bammmm! Right leg this time. This could become a problem. I can’t go back to engage the sniper without getting slaughtered by the rest... at least they are now close to two klicks back.
“Sonia, I’m getting tagged by a sniper with light gauss, can you tell which unit has it?”
“Nope, not a clue...” I can almost see her smile, “besides, better you than me.”
“Where’s the closest place that the terrain breaks up?”
“A little north of due west, we’ll be moving back towards them, though.”
“Well, pick one that isn’t heading into them and lead me there...”
“Sir, it appears that all units are breaking off pursuit and heading back towards the Refuge.”
Bammmm! Center torso.
“Except for that one.”
“Aff, Sir, that one seems to have you in mind.”
“Padraig, there is a light dip a klick out, not enough for most needs, but this one is so far away that it might work.”
“Sir, there’s a signal being broadcast from above us, on open comms.”
“Let’s hear it, Mam.”
Bammmm! Left arm, this time it pulverizes a chunk of armor and smashes my LBX muzzle; the weapon indicates damaged and unable to fire.
“Mechs retreating north of Oakland Refuge, this is Kell Hounds dropship Kenai, do you copy?”
I hesitate, then answer, “Depends on your intentions: if you’re here to shoot at us, then no, we don’t copy...”
Laughter fills my ears, then, “well, if we were here to shoot at you, you have to give us credit for so blatantly abandoning the element of surprise.”
“Touche! Ok, I guess we copy.”
“I like your style, pilot. Could you use a hand?”
“No offense, Sir, but I think the Refuge needs help more than we do; they’re reporting sixteen ‘Mechs, but if the count was right it’s ten now. We’re low on ammo and a little dinged up, but if you can head that way, we may be able to keep a few off you.”
“Done. By the way, I’m guessing that the Hollander at about two klicks on your 170 is a sniper, nothing else visible from here. I look forward to meeting you afterwards, pilot.”
“The sentiment’s mutual, Sir.”
“Sonia’s trying to reach you, Sir.”
I key back to our sequence, “yes, Mam?”
“I have an unidentified high mass craft approaching, I would guess it’s a dropship.”
“Yes, Mam, the Kell Hounds dropship Kenai.”
“You might have said something.”
“I actually just found out. They’re headed to the Refuge.”
“You oughta keep her guessin, son, mystery adds to romance.”
“Shhh, Paw, Paddy is a good man.”
Somehow, Bobby sticking up for me to his da makes me feel really good. It also apparently impresses Joe enough that they go back to talking and I don’t have to hear any further advice on women and love.
I turn south and kick it up to full speed. Sonia’s a bit distracted and misses my turn at first.
“Sonia, the dropship reports that the sniper’s a Hollander almost due south and that he’s alone now. I’m going to thank him for the impact he has had on my ‘Mech’s condition.”
“Well, wait for me, I don’t want to wander out here all alone.”
Boom. Hmmm, no damage, not even any gyro strain.
“Alexis, what was that boom?”
“It appears to have been the sonic shockwave from a gauss miss that was very close to the head.”
“Ok, time to be more creative with my dancing.”
“Aff, running straight at him might leave a little to be desired.”
The Hollander must be moving away, I’m not gaining on him... I can’t imagine why he’s not standing still waiting for me to catch him.
“Padraig, wherever you chased your sniper, he’s picking on me now.”
Hmmm, still don’t see him...
“Can you tell which side he is on?”
“Left side, must be east.”
I turn us that way.
“Sir, I have comm transmissions slightly north of east.”
I turn and in the distance I can just make out the sprinting form of the little Hollander, the big gauss riding like a length of pipe on a plumber’s shoulder. I think he sees both of us, but trusts his speed. Firing a gauss round myself, but it looks like I’ve missed.
“Now I see why you were so annoyed, this one’s a persistent little pain.”
I bring us back across the plane of attack and cross in front of the Mad Dog. Whatever else, it seems to draw his attention back to me.
Bammmm! Another to the right torso. I’m falling back just a bit, trying to get him close enough that Sonia can get a stable lock. For her part, she seems to guess what I’m doing and is charging right at the distant sniper.
Aiming as carefully as I can, I launch another gauss round his way, again it seems wide or over... no, maybe not, he has stumbled and slowed. Sonia must have tone, a hailstorm of missiles boil from her tubes and jets of flame reach across the sky. She keeps him painted, he can’t break the lock and the little ‘Mech goes down in a fireball. Now we are both barreling towards him, in moments, he will stand and try to run... I fire the gauss and Sonia launches again. There’s no eject that I can see before something within the small frame detonates under the impact of so much ordinance.
“I’m out, Padraig. Just the smaller lasers now, not much use to a major battle.”
“You’ve done great with what you had, Mam.”
Joe pleads, “Just get me to a ‘Mech, please, I want a kill too.”
“Think they would just let us walk into the bay and get you one?”
“Well...”
“Alexis, care to give me an open channel that the Refuge was broadcasting on?”
“Aff, nothing there now, though.”
“Oakland Refuge, this is Padraig Carns, do you copy?”
Silence. Is it really worth trying again?
“Oakland Refuge, this is Padraig Carns, do you copy?”
“Go ahead, pilot.”
“I have two ‘Mechs and a third pilot. We could use a bit more ammunition to continue our romp through the Wobbies and our extra missile boater would love a chance to use anything you have sitting still. Mind if we stop in?”
“What ‘Mech did you leave with, pilot?”
“An old Summoner from Jared’s”
“They might know it as a ‘Thor’,” Alexis whispers to me.
“The Inner Sphere name for it is a ‘Thor’. Just to make sure I know I’m talking to the right folks, when you are satisfied it’s me, I want you to tell me the name of my crew chief while I was there.”
“I have another one for you first: when you left you were with a second pilot, what was that pilot’s father’s name?”
“Martin.”
“Your crew chief was Tim, I can’t pronounce his whole name. Come on down, Sir, we could use the support. There’s a unit of mercs out there, but we would feel a lot better having someone we know to do some damage.”
“En route.” Clicking over to our private sequence, I key up for Sonia, “Mam, we are invited into the Refuge for rearming.”
“That’s welcome news, lead on.”
I’ve never seen teams work faster: Erl’s now a floor boss, I can tell that he has had battle experience of some kind, he has no hesitation and everyone on the floor obeys without question. They’re already mounting a new Clan LBX on my left arm, gauss rounds are being hand rolled into their magazine, Sonia is getting tons of cased missiles lowered into her bays and dozens of men and women are pulling and replacing our armor so quickly that it seems they already knew what we needed and had it ready. Joe has landed in an unused Anubis; the light isn’t what he’s used to, but a little missile boat is better than sitting still.
“LBX operational.”
“Thank you, Alexis.”
Tim calls up on the crew chief connection, “we can get you to about ninety percent on the armor in the next five minutes, the weakness will be the leg. It will be more like a half hour if we go for that too.”
“No, I want to get out there quickly. I still need a sequence from the Colonel or someone in your control room.”
“The Colonel’s dead, Sir. You may have passed his Longbow on the way in.”
“Well, I still need some way to communicate that the Wobbies can’t track.”
“I’ll ask Erl to get them moving on it.”
“We are reloaded on gauss rounds, Sir.”
“Thank you, Mam.”
In the flurry of activity, it seems that Bobby has left without saying goodbye. Part of me feels safer with him out of the ‘Mech, but another part of me wants to cry quietly.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Tim?”
“Control wants to patch a sequence to Alexis, is that ok?”
“Alexis?”
“Aff, Sir, ready.”
“Do it, Tim.”
Sonia keys up on our sequence, “Padraig, I’m good to go.”
“Getting a sequence from Refuge control, I’ll pass it along.”
“Sounds good. They definitely owe us dinner.”
“Tim?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Please let Erl know that I’m passing this sequence on to Sonia, but that Joe needs it too.”
“He’s already on it.” There’s a slight pause, then, “you are as good to go as we can get you right now, Sir.”
“Alexis, the new sequence, please.”
“Done, Padraig.”
“Thank you, Mam.” Then on the new sequence, “everyone on?”
Sonia’s first to respond, “I am.”
Unmistakably, Joe follows with, “Hell yes!”
“Refuge control, please open the doors, we are outbound.”
“Good luck, Padraig and friends.”
Down on the pavement below me I see Erl execute some kind of salute. I know he can’t see me, but I do it back for him.
Thuuddddd, thuudddd, thudddd, thuddd, I’m walking fast towards the opening doors, people scattering to clear the way as I accelerate. Across the threshhold. Out into the sunshine and onto the hard packed earth. For the briefest of moments I notice that the footfalls of my gigantic machine have changed in tone to thummmp, thummmp. The moment’s gone, throttle up...
“Tunneling link established.”
“Thank you, Alexis.” I key the link and continue, “Good afternoon to you, Sir.”
My Summoner’s leaning slightly forward standing a few meters from the somewhat upturned face of a Kell Hounds Timber Wolf. By the time we had reached Oakland’s ruins, the remaining Wobby ‘Mechs and armor had been destroyed by the eight Kell Hounds ‘Mechs. Now I’m talking directly with their leader.
“To you too. The Kenai reports that you got seven between you. Not many were left for us, but I suspect something more’s on the way.”
“How so?”
“Our resistance contact at the Bay says all other WoB garrisons around the planet are at total activity, with all operable ‘Mechs being loaded onto dropships. Current estimates are that there may be another twenty-five to thirty ‘Mechs coming. The Kenai has gone back to get reenforcements from the resistance garrison themselves, the 1st Fenians or some such, and any other units around.”
“So we may have the front row seat for the final battle with the Wobbies?”
“No, but we may be on the field playing the championship match for this planet.”
“Works for me.”
“I’m sending a command sequence to you. Because of discipline differences, please do not share it with your unit, you and I should be the only ones on it.”
“Aff, S... err... yes, Sir. By the way, they aren’t actually my unit, just my friends.”
“Interesting. What’s your rank? How should I address you?”
“I’m just a pilot, and Padraig works fine, SIr.”
“Well, no offense, but I’m lead for these two lances, and am usually called ‘Captain’ in combat situations.”
“If that’s what you want, it works for me, Sir.”
“Can the three of you work one flank or the other at my direction?”
“Sure, I don’t count kills, just winning.”
“Haven’t been at this long, have you?”
“Less than a year, Sir.”
“And you two had seven kills between you?”
“Well, the Mad Dog pilot’s really good and some of those seven were already damaged. The ones I got were mostly just lucky shots.”
“I see. We need to have a drink after this is all over.”
“Let’s get through it first.”
“Agreed. Comm check?”
“Alexis?”
“The sequence is locked in, Sir, on two.”
I key over to two, “can you hear me now, Captain?”
“Loud and clear, pilot.”
“Where do you want us?”
“Do an arcing patrol loop about a klick out from the entrance to the Refuge. My lance is on patrol in the ruined city and the second’s rearming. For now, I want to keep you in reserve.”
“As you wish, Captain.”
I throttle backwards and step away from the Timber Wolf’s imposing form. He too is turning and the sheer size of the ‘Mech’s intimidating even though I sit taller than his cockpit grants him.
I flip over to the sequence with Sonia and Joe. “We have patrol duty for now, he expects a second wave of Wobbies and our reenforcements may be a little ways off still.”
“Ok,” is all Sonia offers.
“I wish I coulda had that ‘Mech,” Joe intones; he must be passing the badly damaged Longbow.
“It looks salvageable, you can probably get a deal on it once it’s repaired.”
“Do you do like Tyrohn did and let us get sahlahvaj at kawsd?
I’ve lost him for a moment, it takes almost a hundred meters before it finally means something.
“Salvage is workable for me. Not sure how the Kell Hounds look at it, but I suspect we’ll at least get something for the first seven.”
“I don’t like this light ‘Mech, I need some size.”
“Well, it’s the best we could do and still give you missiles now. You could go back for one of the bigger brawlers, I’m sure they’d let you.”
“Hell no!”
“Well, don’t feel bad, I still wish I were in my Raven. Still haven’t had time to really practice in this monster and my dancing in it leaves a lot to be desired.”
“Sir, the Captain wants to speak with you and we are getting an open transmission from a suborbital craft.”
“Is there any way to hear the Captain even when I’m set to our sequence?”
“Aff, done, Sir.”
“Padraig, you still there?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We have two hostile dropships inbound, not sure what their LZ is, but I want you ready... they will try to divide us, you need to go where I tell you as quickly as possible.”
“Got it.” I release the key, “Alexis, let me hear the orbital.”
“Suborbital, Sir.”
“...fending the fortification at 48 degrees 19 minutes north, 170 degrees 40 minutes west, you are ordered to surrender by authority of the Planetary Council of Blake. We are coming in force to destroy all who do not surrender. ‘Mechs and other units defending the fortification at 48...”
Enough of that already. Let them come, I have a family to repay them for, with years of fear and terror before that to add interest to the balance due.
“Oakland Refuge Command to Padraig Carns, do you copy?”
“Yes, Sir, what do you need?”
“We are being ordered to surrender by Blake forces. Can you and the mercenaries successfully defend us?”
“Yes, Sir. We also have reenforcements coming.”
“Really?! Excellent!” There’s a brief pause. “Second Kell lance headed out to rejoin you now, fully armed and ready.”
“Good work. Please pass my compliments to Erl and his teams, they did an exceptional job when we were in and I’m sure they’ve been outstanding with these ‘Mechs too.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Still nothing on the short range sensors, but there are two distant sparkling lights in the sky many klicks south, I would guess the dropship thrusters or something like that.
“Padraig?” It’s the Captain again.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Please position east of the ruins, about four klicks out. They’re landing south, probably to await further reenforcements, we may want to strike before those arrive. I want you three on my left, out far enough to flank them if all goes well.”
“En route, Captain,” I swing the controller to head southeast.
“You actually do understand what I want, don’t you?”
“Well, it sounds to me like things Sun Tzu teaches. Right now I figure you are the general here... make your best preparations, Sir, and we’ll do what we can to carry them out.”
“We really have to talk when this is over.”
“En route.”
“Good enough.”
To the others, I pass along, “two dropships inbound, looks like their landing zone is south of the Oakland ruins. We are taking a position on the Kells’ left, east of the ruins. We need to be ready to flank if the chance presents itself.”
“Lead on, Padraig.”
“Yup, lead on.”
“I’d like Joe out 200 meters on my left, Sonia, on the left too, but closer.”
They move left and we all jog along at 70kph.
Thmmmp, thmmmp, thmmmp, thmmmp.
Still no contact.
Thmmmp, thmmmp, thmmmp, thmmmp.
There’s a smoky haze hanging over the ruins and something of it’s drifting east. We are in light trees just under four klicks due east of the nearest demolished building. Visibility’s ok, a klick or so at worst. I pull up the old three meter, looking for advantage or threats. Where would I be if I wanted to flank? Even if I didn’t want to flank, where would I send a scout? South of us are some low hills, and at least two shallow streams make their way northeast before joining the river we had followed to find Tyrone’s last resting place. The creek beds are a good klick out, further than the Captain had asked us to go, but there’s something about the layout that bothers me.
“Joe?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a creek bed about a klick east of you, would you run over there and keep an eye on it? I promise that if we get going here you can come back and kill some Wobby ‘Mechs.”
“Well... ok, Paddy. I guess I can.”
The little Anubis disappears deeper into the woods.
For the moment it’s silent except for the engine’s purr and my heart’s steady thumping.
“Paddy, we got a problem!”
“What you got, Joe?”
“‘Mechs, lots of them!”
“Pull back, Joe.”
“Hell yes, I’m runnin like hell now!”
“We’re coming, Joe.” Throttle up. Sonia’s moving too. Switch to two, “Captain, contact five klicks east of the ruins. Investigating.”
“Neg! Fall back north, do not engage!”
“Aff.” On ours, “Joe, Sonia, fall back fast to the north, towards the refuge.”
“I cowendehd fohahr, all AyCayEhm ‘Mechs. Looks like they is following me.”
“Did I understand you to say four ECM ‘Mechs?”
“Yes, thats what I said.”
“Head for us, Joe, we’ll cover you.”
So far, the trees must be protecting us from weapons fire. I have the active probe on, but nothing shows yet...
“I’m taking fire!”
The trees must be slowing him down, I swing towards where I think he is and realize that I’m not alone.
“CTC! ECM ‘Mechs closing fast!
BAMMM! That was a poor choice, maybe I should be heading north. A sickening tone...
BoommBoomBoommBoommBoommBoommBoommBoomm!
Gyros going crazy, the right arm is inop, and the gauss with it.
“Music, please?”
The tune’s pace is frenetic, but somehow it settles me and my dancing improves. I’m out of the trees. Now I can run facing backwards.
Less than 100 meters away a snow white Raven breaks cover, followed almost instantly by an equally bleached Thanatos. It’s the Raven I hit in the face with an LBX blast, the gel detonations shatter the windscreen and at least one pellet explodes within. The eject pod launches, but I wonder if the pilot will survive.
The Thanny isn’t waiting, but firing at my damaged right side...
BooomBOOOOMMMM...
Leg armor stripped on the right, still upright, but in trouble now. My pulse laser carves shiny scars in his torso, but I’m a long way away from a kill...
A Mad Dog breaks through the trees, the Wobby whiteness instantly darkened with smoke as missiles pour from its tubes straight at me.
There’s a sickening feeling as the blasts to my Summoner’s chest destroy armor and one of the gyros spins momentarily out of control. I’m going down...
“Captain, four ECM ‘Mechs, I’m about to have to eject, my team needs help.”
“Almost there, hang on.”
In the periphery of my vision, I see the enemy Mad Dog enveloped in its own fireball, Joe and Sonia are killing him now. The Thanatos, however, wants me. Before I can finish standing my ‘Mech he fires point blank into the armorless hole in my poor ‘Mech’s chest.
“Ejecting!”
TsshhhChnK! BAM!
My mind doesn’t even register explosions, just Alexis calling the action as the harness locks my body down and the hydrazine rockets blast my pod clear of the collapsing wreckage. There’s a pain in my right shoulder, but I lose even that as gravitational forces drain my will to stay conscious.
I seem to be in bed with a pillow in a most uncomfortable position. It’s annoying and finally I shift to move it away.
“Rather fool thing to do, turning into a rush of ‘Mechs.” Not sure about that voice.
I still haven’t opened my eyes, but I reply anyway, “The folly was getting into something that’s too big for me to dance with anyway.”
“I wondered when you’d wake up.” That’s Sonia’s voice.
Looking up at the ceiling is an odd experience, something I used to relish on a quiet morning at the farm; but it’s obviously not the cockpit pod and having gaps in my memory is rather disorienting.
“PADDY! Yehwrh OHKAY!!!”
A small bomb lands on my chest... correction, that’s Bobby excited beyond the point of recognizing my pain. He throws his little arms around my neck and laughs and cries, both at once. Foolish mortal that I am, I hug him back.
“Bobby wouldn’t leave you, Padraig.” Sonia’s eyes are gentle and her voice sweet. For a fleeting moment I wonder if she likes me.
There’s a pilot behind her, though, in a bright red combat jacket, his was the voice I didn’t recognize. He speaks again, “you inspire a lot of loyalty, hard to imagine if you are as young as you look. How long did you say you were a pilot?”
“How long have I been out?”
Sonia rolls her eyes, “why twenty years, Rip, what did you think?”
It must be another Sonia-ism, one of those obscure allusions she often comes up with from something dredged from distant history.
I look at her and she guesses that I’m at least still a little rattled.
“About five hours since recovery found you. Leave it to you to be the first one out of the battle, the rest of us got the hard work.”
I look from her to him, “how did it go?”
“Well, your little planet’s free of Blakist ‘Mechs. Still some armor out there, but word is that resistance units are coming out of the woodwork to take them down.”
“Well, thanks to you and yours, I guess.”
“Actually, I want to hire this missile boater here,” he gestures to Sonia, “and her partner in crime.”
“Yeah, I bet Joe would like that.”
“Actually, I was talking about you.”
“Why? I dropped my ‘Mech in the mud before I could do anything.”
“Did your AI tell you to look for trouble in the creekbeds?”
I think for a moment... “no, it just didn’t seem right, it was what I would have wanted to do if it were my call.”
“That makes you valuable. Aside from the fact that between the two of you, you have gotten twelve ‘Mechs on the day, plus one for your friend in the Nubie. Things might have been very different around here if you hadn’t taken those first seven or discovered the flanking ECM lance.”
“Um, ok. But Sonia deserves the credit for most of the kills.”
“Ah tohl yew hay wuhz tehw mahdehsd fur hehss ohwen guud.”
“Sorry, what was that?”
Before Joe can answer, I translate, “I told you he was too modest for his own good.”
The Captain looks at me with an astonishment that approaches incredulity. “How...?”
Bobby looks up at the officer and proudly exclaims, “hays mah bruudehr.”
“After today I wouldn’t doubt anything even that incredible.”
“You’re learning too,” I smile up at him.
“My command wants me to bring you two when I can, you interested in talking with them?”
I look at Sonia, she shrugs and answers my unspoken question, “it’s ok with me if it’s ok with you.”
“The lady has spoken and I’m ok with talking too.”
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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Country: USA
| Posts: 241 |
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Mar 22 2008 : 19:44:48
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Chapter 18 - A Restoration
Joe’s looking up at the towering Longbow... his Longbow now.
“Are you sure?” I ask in utter amazement.
“Yup, you saved my son and was gonna care for him, then you saved me too. You keep the rest.”
Keep the rest: two books, the ancient katana, and almost 40,000,000 credits worth of gemstones.
“I don’t know what to say except thanks.”
“That’ll do, friend.” For the second time in my life a grown man other than my da hugs me.
“ME TOO!!!” Bobby vehemently insists, holding his arms out for a hug of his own.
I catch the boy up and give him a bear hug equaled only by his in return. I think we are both crying just a hint, but perhaps it’s just very humid in here.
“I love you, Paddy.”
I never thought leaving someone else’s kid would be this tough. Bobby’s bawling openly now, and Joe takes him gently from my arms. His little hand waves vigorously and I wave back before turning to walk to my new ‘Mech.
There is something of deja vu slipping through my mind as I look up at the freshly painted nose and the Croes Gaeltaid gleaming from it. The familiarity is because I killed this mech not all that long ago... it’s the Sha Yu, Sonia tells me that means ‘Shark’. Much repaired since I left it dead in the river, it is now almost ready... Alexis is now installed and several significant modifications have been made in the graceful fourty tonner. Tim stands at its foot, having worked for two days with a sizeable crew to to get it as closely to what I want as is possible with available clan equipment: an ERLL on each arm, a pair of ‘HML’ or heavy medium lasers on the torso, BAP has been added to the ECM, a powerful XL hums in her belly giving an expected 118kph running speed, every remaining spare ton is taken by high efficiency Clan double heat-sinks. Not really a brawler and it may run a little hot, but it's powerful enough to run with Sonia and stealthy enough to serve as scout or, heaven forbid, a lance or tactical lead.
“I got the paint done a few hours ago, couldn’t have you runnin around like some WoB poster child; anyway, it should be dry enough for a dropship ride,” he grins at me. “No extra charge, Boss. You know, I don’t really ever have to work again because of your generosity.”
“I’m sure it’ll look good wherever.”
“Can’t replace any of that fancy stealth armor here, so where you dinged it up the first time is all just standard ferro-fibrous.”
“Will that make a big difference?”
“Well, the downloaded manual says the armor ties in with its A.C. Guardian ECM somehow and makes the rig harder to target. You’ll have to see if it helps next time you want to run at a lance of the enemy.”
“Cool, thanks. Not sure where, but I’m sure it will happen.”
“You’re leaving then?”
“Yup, not much left for me here.”
“Is it true what they say about you being some farmer’s kid from north of Prontsi?”
“Yes, Sir, it is.”
“You could go back now.”
“Wobbies destroyed everything and killed my da. They left nothing but a blackened hole in the ground. I’ve got nothing to go back to.”
“Sorry, Boss, didn’t mean to pry.” He looks genuinely concerned.
“It’s ok, Tim, I know you mean well. Anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes, Sir, one other thing. I want my son to meet you, he doesn’t believe you exist.”
He motions and a young man about thirteen walks up. He’s looking me over with something of a frown.
“Pleased to meet you, Sir. I’m Paddy,” I offer.
Now his eyes grow big, it seems that he’s not angry about meeting me, but not sure that I’m human.
“Jix!”
“Truly Slabbed, Sir.”
Now the look is sheer stunned, with the open mouth and staring eyes. He shakes my hand, but the expression never unlocks from his face.
“How do you like my ‘Mech?” I ask, pointing up at the nose almost over our heads.
“Jix!”
I think his brain’s overloaded.
“I think Jake has about had enough fun,” Tim looks at me with that exasperated look that usually masks embarrassment.
“Alexis, please say hello to Jake.”
“Hello, Jake. How are you, Sir?”
“Cool!”
We stand in silence for a minute, I’ve got no clue what he might be interested in, it’s hard to remember what I might have been interested in just six months ago, much less three years back.
“Is there anything else you would like to know or see?”
“Can I have your autograph?”
Now it’s my turn to be stunned. You only ask stars or famous folk for autographs. Have I become that? It just feels wrong... but this kid’s eager now, like he really wants one.
“Well, I’ve got nothing to write on...”
Tim pipes up, “hang on.” He raises a small vid unit and then sprints away.
“Did you really help save us here after they ran you out?”
“I helped, but others did far more.”
“Dad says you did a lot, and he heard it from that merc Captain who’s been around the last few days.”
Tim sprints back up, something rolled up in his hand. He hands the roll to me along with a pen and I spread it out; it’s a pic of Jake and me at the Sha Yu’s foot. I write: ‘To Jake, may you learn to show respect and courtesy, live life with honor and courage, and find true friends and happiness. Padraig’
He looks it over and the stunned look returns as Tim smiles.
Alexis voice comes from overhead, “Sonia wants to know if you are ready to walk, Sir.”
“One last thing to do before I head up, Mam.”
To Tim, I continue, “now I need to know if you will do me a favor.”
“Anything... well, anything reasonable.”
“You know where my apartment is on Third, right?”
“Sure, we had sandwiches there last week, remember?”
“Ok, I kind of thought so. My neighbors there are having a rough time financially, but both men are proud... I don’t think they want charity, especially from a pilot. If I give you some extra credits, can you find a way to help them out without telling them it was me?”
“Sure, what are their names?”
“Brad and his son Joseph lived on my left; Michael and Mary with their two, Moses and Bridget, were on my right.”
“Ok, what do I use?”
“This is for three families,” I say as I hand him a leather saddlebag that has been draped heavily over my shoulder for the last hour, “yours and both of theirs. I trust you to split it fairly. If you think there’s too much, feel free to share some with the orphanage in the Basement.”
He opens one of the sides and for a moment I fear he will drop it in his shock. Jake looks in and his response is pretty much the same.
“How much is this?” Tim asks barely above a whisper.
“Not sure exactly, at least several million over at the Orion Exchange.”
Tim looks at me like he’s never seen me before. “Why?”
“I lost my family because we had a ‘Mech, now piloting one has given me something back but they aren’t around to share it with... I want your families to have what I can’t give mine.”
“But...”
“Please do this for me. I’m just a guy who wants to help the real people I care something about, I just don’t know how. Please...”
He nods, looking less like a crew chief and more like a friend. “With pleasure, Padraig.”
“Thanks. Take care, Tim.”
“You too, Pad.”
The Kell Hounds dropship reminds me of nothing as much as a flying bunker with engines attached at one end and a box with windows at the other. Unwieldy as it seems to me, the very fact that the Kenai is a working dropship counters the perception. Captain Svensen’s Timber Wolf leads up the ramp to the dark gaping doorway, Sonia walks her repaired Mad Dog about twenty-five meters behind him, and I bring up the rear in my Sha Yu.
‘Shark’ sounds more enjoyably ominous to me so I’m adopting that for the name. I’ve been out in this one for less than an hour and there is already something about the ‘Mech that feels... well... natural. The cockpit isn’t nearly as spacious as the Summoner and is just a little roomier than Rocker's was, but everything’s where I want it to be and my other ‘Mechs now seem just tired stand-ins.
Crossing the threshold, my eyes begin adjusting to the lights in the bay. There’s a crewman... make that crewwoman... directing me into a slot on the right side; there are a pair of huge jaws mounted to a column at its far end. I’m not sure what to do, it looks like the Captain and Sonia are both backing into their slots, but those jaws look deadly.
I hear the Captain ask, “Something wrong, Pilot?”
“He’s never been on a dropship, Sir,” Sonia interjects. Then to me, “Padraig, back into the slot until you feel the jaws lock safely in place.”
“Oh... thanks, Mam.”
I do as instructed until I feel the resistance and hear a clear kwwnkkk that echos through the frame and my bones. Throttle’s suddenly inop, too.
Alexis informs me, “Throttle locked out, Padraig.”
“Thank you, Mam.”
“You might find the crew viewports interesting if you have never flown, Sir. We will probably not reach true sub-orbital altitude, but it should still be an instructive experience.”
“Thank you, Alexis. I think I will.”
I was not prepared for this.
I’m not sure how high we are, but from here I’m looking down on my world as if it were brand new: towering storms, vast icecap, emerald forests, barren tundra and the vastness of a great ocean. I can see the sky-scraping volcanic twins, Hamartia and Scotia, snow laden but emitting steam plumes from their towering summits. Above it all is a starry darkness, not a blue, but a ebony depth that knows no end.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I hadn’t noticed Sonia approach, but it’s not like I wasn’t completely focused on the awesome spectacle.
“I never imagined anything like it.”
“Wait until we have a chance to go into orbit, that’s even more incredible.”
“How high are we right now?”
“Sixty or so kilometers up.”
“Have you done this often?”
She nods.
“Do you ever get over how spectacular it is?”
A contemplative smile dawns on her face. “No, I think I actually appreciate creation and the Creator more every time.”
Below us, what must be little fluffy white clouds lay like a scattered bowl of popcorn across the mottled brown and green of tundra and hills. Lakes go from blue to reflecting silver and then back to become twinkling sapphires. The northward march of ice seems painted with the richest variations of blues on whites...
“Have you had a chance to read anything from the book I gave you?”
Ooops... that kind of slipped my mind. “Um, no Mam, not yet...”
“I know it’s been crazy, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything... just wishing for something we could talk about.”
“I promise to get to it soon.”
“Fair enough.”
A voice comes from an overhead speaker, “all personnel: on final approach, secure for landing.”
“That means we need to take a seat, either in our ‘Mechs or in those chairs.”
Hoping the chairs will have something of a view, I opt for them. I’m wrong, but I’ve taken too long to figure that out, now I get to ride them down anyway. A few crew-members in red uniforms enter and sit in the same group of chairs. Each is nonchalant about the experience, perhaps even bored by it.
Suddenly, it feels like I’m falling. Panic rises, but the lack of any excitement on the part of the others makes me suspect all is normal and I am just experiencing it as a newbie. Perhaps it’s a bit unnerving, but I steel myself and determine to show neither fear or discomfort. A young woman across from me is reading something on an electronic pad, another talks on a comm device.
Beside me, Sonia has closed her eyes and looks completely at peace. One of the young men appears to be watching her in that pseudo-casual fashion that implies he’s noticing everything about her. I feel a momentary protective impulse, but it dissolves into the realization that she can take very good care of herself... much better than I could do for her.
“These are the pilots I spoke with you about,” Captain Svensen says, leading into his introduction, “Sonia Cramer and Padraig Carns. Pilots, this is my superior, Brian Kell.”
Mister Kell is about my height and is perhaps a little heavier than I. His dress is nondescript except for a loose-fitting combat jacket of some dark material emblazoned with the large red triangle and hound’s head emblem that I’ve learned represents their organization.
He does a simple bow to Sonia and a similar one to me, an action we both return.
“I hope your trip here was pleasant.”
“Yes, Sir,” we answer in unison.
“I would be honored if the three of you would join me for lunch. I honestly find it much more relaxing to talk business over a shared meal.”
“Gladly, Sir,” Sonia answers while I nod in agreement.
“So you weren’t happy with a heavy?”
“No, Sir. Please don’t get me wrong, the Summoner was a good ‘Mech, I just never got used to it. On the other hand, the Raven was grand and my Sha Yu seems perfect.”
“How long were you in each chassis?”
“Um...” I’m trying to remember without looking goofy. “Almost five months in the Raven, two days in the Summoner, and just today in the Sha Yu.”
“What were you in before the Raven?”
“Nothing, Sir. I’ve only been a pilot since last fall and the Raven was my first ‘Mech.”
He looks at me for what seems forever, there’s no change in his expression until he refocuses on Sonia.
“And you, Miss, you are comfortable with the Vulture, or would you prefer something larger or smaller?”
“The Vul was perfect for my original partner, he preferred an Argus, so we were well matched on overall performance. I do have experience with all but the heaviest assaults, though, so I’ll consider my options going forward based on what pairing I have and what equipment’s available. For now, I’m in no hurry to change.”
“It’s not a problem, young lady. I assure you, we have many who’d welcome partnering with you and your Vulture just on the Captain’s word alone.”
I’m struck suddenly that Sonia has a lot of options, our teaming together isn’t a foregone conclusion... maybe isn’t even likely. Unexpectedly, I discover that I’m completely focused on her answer, hoping that I’m really not such a ridiculous choice for her to run beside.
“Thank you, Sir, I’ll keep that in mind if my current partner decides to go his own way...”
My heart does a somersault and a smile erupts on my face.
“...but I might like to consider other Clan ‘Mechs if there are market stocks.”
“I’m sure we can accommodate you, Miss.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Turning back to me, he asks, “so, where are you from?”
“Near Maupin along the Daulles Road north of Prontsi.”
He seems to be considering for a moment, then, “ah, local born then?”
It seems odd to hear it spoken of so, but as it occurs to me that he is probably an offworlder, I answer, “yes, Sir. Born and raised on this planet.”
“Family still here?”
“No, Sir. Family’s gone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Then to Sonia, “And you, Miss?”
“Terra, but we left when I was little.”
He looks just a hint surprised, “an actual live Terran, how very unusual.”
She smiles back, but her look may well be interpreted to mean she’s sorry she told him.
“Family still here?”
The first chink in Sonia’s armor shows, a tear rolls down her face as she answers, “none now. My pops died three days ago on a merc run.”
Finally, there is a clear emotion on his face: concern. “I am very sorry to hear of your loss, Miss. Would you rather we speak further after you’ve had a few days away?”
She looks over at me and her eyebrows arch just enough to ask what I think of it. I answer with a little shrug that leaves it entirely up to her.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I would like to take a few days. Do you know if there’s someone here who can rent out a sailboat?”
“I’m certain there are several, young lady, I’m quite certain there are.”
Standing on the dock is an odd feeling, made all the more strange by seeing the only person I know sail away. Sonia has procured a twin masted boat called a ‘sloop’ and is now waving from her seat at its wheel. She seems born to that water craft, while I am almost pushed to distraction by being out on the floating timber walkway.
Grey drizzle plays with my mood, the clouds seem to cling to the sky just above the treetops, trying to quench any flame of energy I might make. The fjord is several kilometers wide, with dark firs barely visible on the other side leaving mostly wind driven whitecaps and obsidian green water to entertain my sinking spirits.
I am the worse for wear, my stomach must disagree with something I’ve eaten lately, today started with my spending an inordinate amount of time... well... in the lavatory. The very thought of riding the surging seas makes me a bit nauseous, probably best that Sonia wanted to spend some time alone anyway.
Of course, I also have to admit that I wish she were going to be around. Being sick is no fun, and not having mum around to take care of me is a revelation of how much I have to learn about growing up. Sick and alone... I already hate the combination.
Sonia is out a bit, clear of the point and apparently must pay attention to sailing instead of me, for she finally looks away.
She hasn’t looked back though the boat is now rapidly cleaving waves and racing farther away.
She’s gone far enough that sails alone tell of her presence.
Now even the sails have passed behind a headland and are lost too.
Dark and frothy waters rock the dock... where I still stand... looking out at the emptiness that once held my friend.
I’ve never seen water wider than a river and nothing as wild as this. A ‘small’ storm is coming in, but though these are only meter high waves my mind easily interprets them as ten times that. I’m transfixed by the scene: sights, sounds, and smells... and am only dimly aware of the rumbling at my waistline. My abdomen, however, churns anew to challenge my focus and convinces me to retire to my room and its facilities.
The ceiling is almost as grim as my health, the dim light from the bathroom barely implies that it must be white, but in my misery I won’t endure getting up needlessly any more than my body will allow me sleep. Between muscle cramps, stomach pains, feverish sweats, and the throb of my headache, I seem doomed to suffer in the plain room under barely serviceable piles of sheets and blankets.
An old fashion clock clicks away the seconds, each one more miserable and drawn out than its predecessor. So much time passes between clicks that I am sure it’s stopped before the next one arrives.
At least Sonia doesn’t have to see me like this.
Rolling over, I grab a controller and turn on what I vainly hope will be some positive entertainment. From its corner, the holovid brings more depressing information... things are sure not what they were just last fall.
I was surprised to find out that prior to what’s being called the ‘Battle for Refuge’, the Blakists here controlled one of their few remaining planets. Considering the headaches they caused, I’m glad I was part of bringing them down. Unfortunately, news in the aftermath coming from other parts of the planet is far from good: bloody riots, merciless ethnic clashes, and violent lootings are already vying with each other to headline. Drug gangs, radicals, and warlords have lost little time making plays for power; it seems that several areas are becoming semi-autonomous feudal zones where the common folk are even more put down, often by the very resistance fighters that ‘protected’ them before. I’m not sure I know my world anymore, just as I am not sure my body will ever recover.
Duncan looks over and sympathetically informs me that, “yup, sounds like Amaris’ Revenge alright. Most pilots don’t get it until they make their first trip off their homeworld and eat food from a different planet, but you seem to have gotten it already. Not sure if that bodes well or if it’s a bad omen, but now you at least know what to expect.”
I feel like I’ve hand plowed our entire farm, hand baled a barn until overfull, mucked out two hundred stalls, and then gotten into a fistfight with a giant. Ok, I’ve never done any of those things, but I’m at least an order of magnitude more beat than tractor plowing, machine baling, mucking out twenty stalls, and getting into a fistfight with a school bully.
Apparently, I look pretty bad, too... Duncan’s the only pilot who will even sit at the same table, and he’s not exactly sitting across from me.
“Good thing is,” Duncan has finished his mouthful and picks up where his last sentence left off, “it rarely lasts a week, usually only four or five days.”
I’m in the 1st Fenian Cavalry’s mess hall; a largish room where the garrison’s cooks serve passable chow, housed in a prewar wooden building that was allegedly a fish cannery. The windows on one side look out into the grey rain clouds, but the ones facing the hillside seem encrusted with centuries of uncleaned salt deposits and are barely even translucent. The massive ‘Mech hangars for the garrison and ‘visitors’ are excavated into those granite hillsides, but they are simply invisible from here. The walk from my rented cottage seems to have taken forever, but I still come here for meals and to attempt to socialize.
Sonia hasn’t returned, but I really don’t expect her for a while... she’d said ‘a week or so’ when she left, and I’ve already found out that she didn’t take a commlink. I just have to trust that she knows what she’s doing and will be back when it’s time.
“I just got a Wolfie, 2446. It’s a great PITA and an honor to move up from the Uller they had me in.”
“How much did that cost you?” I manage, trying for all the world to be sociable while my body is staunchly refusing to eat the bite that dangles from my waiting fork.
“Oh, it isn’t mine, I’m just a second year.” he looks a bit depressed while sharing this revelation, but positively brightens when he continues, “I am saving for a real ‘Mech of my own, though.”
“Two years as a pilot? Slabbed!”
He looks at me like I’m confused, “you with the Fenians? For the Hounds a second year is far from being a veteran, and they only really take you seriously when you have earned your own ‘Mech by saving for it or doing something spectacular.”
“But you must have seen a lot of action in that time.”
“No, not that much so far. The most I’ve done was some armor mop-up at that Refuge place... got two myrmidons and three LRM launchers,” he says this with great pride. “Never actually faced a ‘Mech in combat, though they drill us on sims almost every day. How about you?”
“I’ve seen a few, they get nasty in groups or if you don’t have enough time practicing with a chassis to know how it handles.”
He takes what I would guess is something of a puzzled look, “What do they have you in?”
My stomach is trying to regain my attention, but I manage an answer anyway, “I have a Sha Yu right now, but I’m not with the garrison.”
His eyes show his surprise, “I wouldn’t have thought you were old enough to be very experienced... who’s ‘Mech is it?”
“Mine.”
He stops and finally looks carefully at me.
We sit in silence, I wonder if he thinks I’m lying.
Finally, “you must be that kid they’re trying to recruit. I though they meant someone my age, they usually call me a kid and I’m almost twenty-one.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lame an answer as it is, it’s the best I can do right now.
“Oh, no, it’s no big deal. Can we talk some time, I’ve heard some serious stories about you...” he stops, clearly in mid-sentence and changes his thought, “right now you look positively... well... ill.”
He’s spot on, I feel ready to do nothing more than curl up under a blanket and hide... or retch, whichever comes first.
“I need to go, sorry.”
“Yeah, we can talk some other time. Get better, ok?”
I look at the food speared on my fork one last time, drop it without further consideration onto my plate, stand and head back towards my room.
I’m sure glad I wasn’t stuck in a ‘Mech on some airless moon when this Amaris’ Revenge stuff struck me, that would have been sheer torture. Actually, stronger terms come to mind, but I prefer not to admit that I think such things.
It’s been pouring rain all day, going out the door meant I was soaked to the skin before I got ten paces and shivering with chills again before I could retreat back inside. I’m glad for the small cheeses and a tin of biscuits I got yesterday, and at least there is plenty of water to wash them down. Food seems to be staying in my system better now, but the shivers and cold sweats are back again and I find it hard to even get into the shower to warm up.
I can’t bring myself to turn on the holovid anymore, my world is disintegrating more and more by the day as far more evil men and women have stepped into the power vacuum left by the disintegration of the Planetary Council of Blake and the execution of its former members.
What they showed last night from Solstein was so horrible that I wanted to vomit: a freedom celebration at a football stadium was attacked with a fuel-air device. No one has claimed responsibility, but tens of thousands perished and the vids left no details out... if I weren’t already sick, I might well have become so before I got it turned off.
Equally disturbing were reports of a backlash by Wobby Loyalists, they’re accused of attacking patrols with powerful roadside bombs. Troutheim police units appear to be backing loyalist marches there, I wonder where else might see a resurgence. True, without their own ‘Mechs, they aren’t a serious combat threat, but against the general population they would be dominant. What puzzles me most is that the majority of the loyalist sentiment appears to be from common folk frightened by the horrors exploding elsewhere.
I seem to have more mental agility now, but the corollary of boredom at being imprisoned by my physical suffering is forcing me to think too much. Much as I sometimes hate to admit it, I miss Alexis. As soon as I can, I’ll be back in that cockpit drilling with her ugliest sims again, if only to hear her voice cajoling me over my response to some new twist.
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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Country: USA
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Mar 22 2008 : 19:48:53
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(out of character: i just want to take a moment and wish all a blessed Resurrection Day [Easter]. may your relationships be a blessing to you, may you be a blessing to those around you, and may the Relationship become more meaningful for this day and always. He is Risen!]
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
Edited by - CMOpatrick on Mar 22 2008 20:45:43 |
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Country: USA
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Mar 23 2008 : 09:25:36
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Chapter 19 - The Leap
Something’s different this morning. I roll over and realize that the window has morning sunlight pouring through it. Driving gales don’t seem to be rattling anything and there’s no sound of a deluge pouring on the roof. As if I’m more in tune with nature than is normal, my body too has warmed and settled... and hungry. I dress to head out and make it barely out the door.
The world is changed from the grey dreariness to a place of absolute wonder. Now I can see that the mountains across the fjord are towering massifs, clothed with evergreens below and draped with snow above. Endless streams plunge down darkened cliffs in bright and feathery waterfalls to birth rainbows with their mist. The expanse of water itself has some small whitecaps further out, but is a rich clear aquamarine where it isn’t reflecting the beauty beyond. There are two fishing boats headed out, their nets hung high and folks purposefully scurrying about their decks in the chill morning air.
It feels like a wonderful morning to be alive. The air has a freshness I can’t remember ever sensing, more than just the scent of the sea mixed with evergreen fragrance, it’s as if the air itself is joyful at just being there to be breathed by a mere mortal me.
I finally overcome the beauty’s spell long enough to walk to the small restaurant that perches along the water, maybe 500 meters west; I’ve eyed it for days, but only now do I feel fit to join the public. The place has a few customers, but those who are there are an obviously contented lot.
My waitress is an older woman, but as friendly and cheerful as a happy grandmother.
“Sit where you like, lad. And do ya know what you’ll be wanting?”
“Got indigoberry pancakes?”
“Best on the north coast, small but full of berries and stacked to feed even the grandest of hungers.”
As I head for a window table, my grin must be evident because she follows up with, “and will you be having bacon with those then?”
“Trying to spoil me, now?”
“You’re a man of good taste, sure.”
“Well, at least I know what tastes good, indigoberry pancakes and bacon it is, with a pot of morning tea.”
“Well said, that. I’ll have it right up.”
“Thank you, Mam.”
“Mam it is? Proper gentleman you are.”
“Yes, Mam, my da raised me so.”
“And a good man he must be too. I’ll get the tea, luv.”
I haven’t the heart to spoil her day by telling her that da is gone. There’s so much cheer here, I just want to soak it in... it’s like playing with Sabby on a warm spring day... well, like that was...
“Dia dwitch!”
An oddly dressed man is standing beside my table... in black from the neck down with just a narrow bit of white at the center of his throat. It is obvious he meant his words as some form of communication, but I’m entirely lost as to what.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Ah, ya don’t have any of the Irish, do you?”
“I guess not, Sir.”
“I said ‘God be with you’ in the tongue of our ancestors. Depending on your confession you would answer with a blank look if you’re an unbeliever, ‘and also with you’ if an average believer, and ‘God and Mary be with you’ if a truly old school Irish Catholic. Of course, the latter would begin the game of adding saint’s names to the blessing back and forth until one or the other of us forgot one of the list or ran out of saints to add.”
“No offense, Sir, but I really have no clue what you are on about.”
“Ah, that’s a blank look and no lie. Mind if I join ya?” he asks while already part way into the chair opposite me.
“Please, be welcome.”
“I couldn’t help overhearing your exchange with our fine hostess, your accent led me to believe that you’re one of us.”
“I’m afraid that I don’t understand.”
“Would you recognize this?” he asks, and out from under his coat he pulls a pendant version of the Croes Gaeltaid, a slightly more ornate one than what I have painted on my ‘Mech.
“The Cross of Patrick.”
“Very good, also called the Gaelic or Celtic Cross. What do you know about it?”
I am desperately trying to dredge up what Joshua said to me those months ago, but for right now I am a bit at a loss.
“Just that it’s from old Terra and that my granpa used it on his ‘Mech because his name was Patrick.”
“Did he tell you that was why he used it, or was that his excuse if those hostile to the faith asked?”
It seems I’ve heard that basic question before, “I don’t know, he was dead before even my da was born.”
“Ah, I see. If you don’t mind, I’ll say his name in the Mass on Sunday.”
I shrug, this conversation is a bit strange and I’m at a loss to know how to deal with the situation.
“I take that as a ‘whatever’ so I’ll do it anyway.”
A silence falls and I try to politely look out the window at the beauty.
“How are ya, Father Pat?”
“A fine good morning, Kathleen; other than being a bit stiff of the weather, I’m grand.”
“The usual, then, Father?”
“If you’d be so kind, I’d be grateful.”
“Will you be at your usual table, or are you with this fine lad today?”
He looks at me, there is a kindly appraisal going on and I’m not sure if I even know whether I want him to remain.
“I leave it up to this young gentleman,” he looks directly at me, “would you mind the company... hmmm, I don’t know your name yet.”
“Padraig, Sir.”
“Padraig indeed! Well, will you have my company or would you rather appreciate the glory of creation alone this mornin?”
I hesitate; what is a polite answer...?
“Kathleen, please serve it to my normal spot, I think the kindly lad is trying to determine how to politely ask to be left alone.”
She looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time, and with just a bit of disapproval, “how can it be so?”
I dislike her frown and wish everything were brighter again. “No, no, he’s welcome to stay if he so chooses.”
Her smile returns and she questions him one last time, “so here, then, Father?”
“Yes, Kathleen, here it is.” His look is gentle, but I have no doubt that he is able to read my response as if I had said everything I thought.
After she has walked away, he quietly says, “I appreciate your courtesy, Padraig. I shan’t press you further unless you choose to talk.”
I’m a bit embarrassed that I have been so obvious, “sorry, Sir, I’ve been a bit sick lately and this is my first morning out.”
“Then I’ll try to be social without making you uncomfortable, if that sets well with you. I’m not a man of few words, and the poetry of life is oft all too eager to burst forth.”
My breakfast comes, a vast mound of indigoberry loaded pancakes, a tureen of sweetened melted butter, four strips of crispy bacon and a large pot of a wonderfully fragrant tea. I pour a cup for myself and offer him one also.
He seems a joyful man, but the more I look, the more I wonder that he could be old enough to be waitress Kathleen’s da. After a few mouthfuls of berry-packed ambrosia have been swallowed, I ask, “if you will pardon my asking, Sir, but how old are you?”
He smiles, it’s as if he knows where the conversation is going but will let it play out anyway. “Forty at the turn of the year. How about you, Padraig?”
I had not expected his question and it takes me a moment to decide to tell him, “sixteen, Sir.”
He nods a bit, his smile never leaving.
Kathleen returns with a plate of steaming fresh toast and a thick strawberry jam. Mister Murphy closes his eyes for a moment and I almost think he’s saying something. The moment passes and he reaches for a spoon and the jam.
“How are the pancakes, dear?”
“Lovely, Mam, the best!”
“Why thank you kind Sir, I hope you enjoy your breakfast.” Looking at my companion, she queries, “and you, Father?”
His mouth is already stuffed with twice as much jam as toast; he politely chews in silence, but gives her a big smile and a two thumbs up gesture.
A young couple walks by and I hear both of them acknowledge him, “Father.”
He nods in their direction, but the mouthful hasn’t gone away yet. Must be a big family.
His mouth is finally empty and before he can inhale the next slice, I ask, “how big is your family?”
I would swear that he knows again exactly what I am getting at, but he answers, “I’m the first of five children.”
“No, I mean your children.”
“By natural means, I have none.”
I hadn’t really expected this answer.
“You really don’t understand who I am here, do you?”
“No, Sir. Please forgive any offense, none is intended.”
“I believe it, son.” He pauses a moment, takes a deep breath, and continues, “I’m Father Murphy, the parish priest for Jewels Harbor. Most of these folk are believers and many are parishioners in my flock. The Irish colony on this planet became focused here over many years, the mountains and coast here have sheltered us and our old ways persevere. All but two persons, yourself included, in this room can trace Irish family lines that reach back millennia.”
“May I ask what it is that you do?”
“Of course, Padraig, of course. I am the spiritual leader, a guide as it were, for those Christians who live here. Do you know what a Christian is?”
“Not really. In ancient history class I think they said it was one of the banned cults from Terra, kind of like the Clans are now. On the other hand, by the definition the teacher gave us of a cult, I often secretly wondered if the Wobbies weren’t one.
He chuckles as I say this, and replies, “not really much to go on, that.”
“I think a friend of mine has something to do with that stuff. She gave me a book called Mere Christianity, is that the same thing?”
“Hmmm, have you read the book yet?”
“Well, no, I’ve been busy and then I was sick and...” my voice trails away as I realize that I’m just coming up with excuses. “I intend to start on it today.”
He smiles, “well, I don’t agree with everything he says, but coming at it from your background, I think it would be a good place to start. I’d like to talk to you more after you’ve read it, would that be ok?”
“Well, if I’m still here.”
“Fair enough, Padraig. I’m in every morning and on Wednesday and Saturday evenings for the sessions.”
“Sessions?”
“You sound like you are at least partly of Irish blood, but if so you were obviously deprived of your culture. A ‘session’ is a loose term for a meeting of musicians, in our case, musicians who play traditional Irish music. We get together here and play tunes as lively as The Butterfly and as solemn as the Derry Aire.”
A thought strikes me, “do you know a tune called ‘The Battering Ram’?”
He smile is radiant, “so you do know a bit, you mean this one?” He launches mid-sentence into whistling the flute portion of my battle song and drumming on the table in a slightly modified version of the same.
The waitress stops beside the table and she too picks up whistling the flute part.
In a minutes time, at least four others from nearby tables have also joined in, three whistling and one drumming on the oaken tabletop.
Finally, my companion holds up a hand and they all stop at once.
“May I come and listen?” I ask breathlessly.
“Any time, Padraig, any time at all. We’re doing it tomorrow night, right after confession.” He must see the blank look again, “that’s about six-thirty here, though I could always be late.”
“I’ll make every effort to be here for it.”
“If you have to stop reading your book to come, please believe that I would rather we could talk about the book than have your hear us play this time. Some things are more important than others and Lewis presents a cleaner case for the basics than I can in a short time.”
I’m halfway through my meal when it occurs that he might have an opinion on a question that plagues me. “May I ask you something?”
“Yes, my son?”
“Huh?”
“Oops, sorry, lad. Force of habit, that. Ask your question.”
“Do clones have a soul?”
“Yes, I believe they do, why do you ask?”
“Well, I grew up thinking that clones are cursed and have no soul.”
“There are two things there: first, it’s sin that brings a real curse; second, every human has a soul given him by God. Cloning is a sin, being a clone would not be, nor would it keep one from having a soul.”
“Huh?”
“To sin, you must be free to choose between right and wrong, since the clone has no choice, by definition he or she can’t be guilty of the sin that created them.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Well, would you say that a child born from a rape is cursed?”
“I don’t know...”
“The sin of rape is perpetrated by a parent, not by the child. The child is not the rapist, so the child is free from that sin’s curse. Likewise the clone.”
“Um, ok, but I’m not sure I follow on the soul part.”
“Irrespective of the sin of the parents, God knits us in our mothers’ wombs, and the soul already exists in us before we’re born.”
That opens a new avenue of thought, “Well, what about the Clans?”
He laughs heartily. “I don’t think Highlanders are all that different from the Irish, we’re all human. Why, are you of a Scottish line instead of Irish?”
“No, my granpa was a Wolf, my da his clone.”
The kindly face frowns as he struggles to sort out what I’ve said. His eyes grow suddenly large, “you mean those clans?”
Now I think we’re communicating, “Yes, Sir. Granpa had no mother, so does that break things? Did he still get a soul? Did da have one? Do I?”
He now looks right at me with a renewed confidence, “yes, I can say without doubt that you have a soul. That’s really what troubles you, isn’t it?”
I shrug, there are a lot of ideas here that I’m not familiar with.
The last swallow of tea seems extra sweet, I guess I didn’t stir enough to completely dissolve the honey. My pancakes are gone, as is the toast my companion so relished. Father Murphy has excused himself at the request of a couple who seem to urgently need his attention, but I’ve learned between mouthfuls that ‘Father’ is something of a title; I still don’t know if it is from some other language and just sounds like the English word or if it’s somehow symbolic.
A scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafts gently from the kitchen, I had better leave before my taste buds vote for a second meal.
“This is for his meal and mine, and something extra for you too,” I tell the waitress, handing her one of the local gold coins.
“No, luv, that’s ten times the meals, let me get you some change.”
“No, Mam. You’ve lifted my spirits far more than that’s worth and I intend to be back as oft as I can to partake of the fine cookin’ and finer welcome.”
“Well, you’re welcome here and that’s certain, but you needn’t pay so for the hospitality.”
“Please consider it my way of saying thanks.”
“Well, as you wish, then. As the Lord walks with you, may He watch over your path and kick the rocks clear before your feet can touch them.”
Outside the door there are flowers among the white stones lining the path, I hadn’t noticed them on the way in, but now their colors burst out before me like dew sprinkled gems of sapphire, ruby and amethyst. I can hear some finches in the bushes and a glorious morning stretches out before me.
Maybe I should rest a bit today... and perhaps reading a good book in the fresh air and sunshine is the best relaxation available.
“We’d like to speak with you about a matter of interest,” Brian Kell states in a calm matter of fact tone.
I’ve just finished pressure-washing mud off one of Shark’s shins, the darkened skies have been gloriously clear all day, but there is quarter-meter deep mud on every road and I seem to have acquired an actual ton of it. Captain Svensen is at the wheel of a small blue electric cart while Mister Kell lounges on the passenger side. My first impression is they are important people who feel they have too little time to walk where they need to go.
“Ok, Sir. Sonia isn’t back yet, though.”
“That’s fine, are you willing to consider a solo deep recon onworld?”
“Here?”
“Yes. You said you are from north of Prontsi, correct?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Have you ever been there?”
“Yes, Sir, we went on various field trips there while I was in school.”
He looks up at the Sha Yu’s nose, “ECM with stealth armor, right? Anything else fancy?”
“Yes, Sir, BAP too.”
“We may need to run a ‘Mech to Prontsi in the next day or so and we would prefer a pilot who knows the area and something of the route.”
“I’m confused, Sir. Why wouldn’t you drop them in closer?”
“That’s our first choice, and still our primary option. I don’t like to be surprised, though, and things there appear to have become very... fluid... in the last few hours. Our orbiting Jumpship reports that there’s now a patrol cordon up to intercept dropships, if that continues, I may need to get someone in close enough to see what cameras from space might miss. We could drop you a hundred klicks or so east of the Refuge, but you would need to go the rest of the way yourself.”
“Back the way I came out, in other words.”
“Is that a problem?”
I think of the route, of all the folks I know and those... I might have to pass Zuzan again.
“It might be, let me think about it, ok? I’m not sure I really want to leave my partner here anyway.”
“I understand completely. Please let either of us know if you decide, ok? By the way, Miss Cramer is at least three days steady sailing out, more like a week if she continues as she has to this point.”
As they drive away, part of me is dying to know how he knows that... but that would beg the question of why he knows.
“Dia dwitch!”
I have a fork-load of indigoberry pancakes almost to my mouth... lets see, what were the answer options...
“This is where I have to give you a blank look, right?”
“You remember, good!”
“Good morning, Father Murphy. Won’t you join me for breakfast?”
“If you aren’t a believer at all, you can choose to skip the ‘Father’ part... I suspect it’s still rather strange to you.”
“No, a title is a title, I’ll at least honor that.”
“As you wish, Padraig. Oh, and thank you for the breakfast yesterday.”
“My pleasure. I hope you will allow me the privilege to treat you again today.”
“Now why would you do that?”
“Courtesy, friendship, I have too much money and want to share.”
His look is incredulous. Well, perhaps it is softening, “are you actually serious?”
“I’m a pilot,” now the disbelief has returned, “despite my age. Let’s just say that I was involved with several engagements recently that provided me with enough resource to buy a replacement ‘Mech without depleting my reserves.”
“Would you give to help homeless children or the poor?”
“How much do they need and where do you need me to go to help?”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“My current resources are more than I suspect my father and all his friends combined ever had. I have been given much, some of it earned, but some of it because of a kindness or two. Maybe some day I’d find a way to spend it all, but why not share it with folks who need something? I have no idea how to help others, but I want to.”
“The orphanage could use anything you can give, a thousand would be exceptional, but even a few hundred would be a blessing if you can spare it.”
“I’m an orphan myself... would a million or so help?”
I am suddenly aware that Kathleen the waitress is standing there listening to me... I notice because she has just dropped a pot of tea on the floor, shattering it and sending scalding-hot liquid everywhere, including a splash or two on my pant leg.
I have no idea what Father Murphy is thinking, his face is blank. I don’t think there is anything sinister in his visage, I’m just not sure what I have said has registered.
“I beg your pardon?” is what he finally manages.
“Can you convert gems, or do you need me go transfer it to credits or bullion? I’ve never been in an orphanage myself, but I’ve seen them. Anything I can do to help kids who haven’t had the breaks... well, I want to do.”
Judging by the stares and lack of comment, I wonder if they believe me.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, need to go to my ‘Mech.”
“Did you hear that there’s a WoB loyalist rebellion in one of the provinces?” Duncan looks absolutely gleeful at the prospect.
I hate to admit that I’m torn by this news. On one hand, I wonder if I will ever consider myself avenged for my da and home, on the other, nothing like the Solstein Massacre had ever happened under their rule. If I have to consider the lesser of two evils, which would it be?
“Do you know where they are?”
“Prancing or something like that...”
Prancing? I don’t think I’ve ever hear of it... wait, Prontsi? “Do you mean Prontsi?”
“Sounds about right. No orders on it yet, but my unit is to be combat ready by morning at the latest.”
Duncan turns back to his Wolfhound and I continue to my Shark.
Now Mister Kell’s mission means something... should I help crush the Wobbies and perhaps plunge my own province into further chaos or refuse to move against them on the chance they can restore some kind of order?
Up the knelt leg I climb. I have taken an unautomated slot, not a gantried unit bay, so climbing remains a secret pleasure that few others understand.
“Alexis, open the canopy, please.”
It rises all too slowly, giving me more time to wonder what I should do about the possible mission. I feel I owe them still for what they have done to me and our planet, but I’m no longer sure I know our own people.
What if mum is with them? I don’t know where the thought came from, but there’s a sudden shock at the realization. We were never close, but could I help or guide an assault if she would die in it?
“Alexis, do you have access to sat maps or any other significant data through the base computer?”
“I can check, Sir.”
I open a box I have strapped beside the chair and lift out two of the many pouches of diamonds. It’s an insane way to store a fortune in gems, but I’m out of alternatives since still more valuable stones already flood every other container not occupied with food or clothing.
Alexis finally answers, “Padraig, I have access to a hemi from last week at ten meters, a ten meter weather for this continent from yesterday, and a selection of three meters also covering most of the continent all dated after our battle at the Oakland Refuge. There also appear to be pure tacticals for several specific locations.”
“Pure tacticals?”
“Low orbit ten centimeters, the highest res normally available to Inner Sphere commands. Easily best for close combat planning, you can identify individuals, guess troop patrol lanes, with the right light even spot potential minefields, lone weapons and surveillance equipment. They must be from formerly Blakist surveillance satellites, I doubt even the Kells would have spent that much to launch their own at this early stage of the conflict.
“Does one of them cover Prontsi?”
“One moment, please.” She pauses but a moment, “yes, there are actually two, one in visible and another in infrared.”
“Please get every other map they have that covers this continent from three meters and up, then grab those two.”
“Why that specific order, Sir?”
“If they are going to cut us off from them or question the access, it will most likely be for those two.”
“Is there a problem, Sir?”
“I don’t know yet. I have some folks to help out, I’ll be back later, but I’ll leave the link on if you need me.”
“Aff, Sir.”
“For the orphans,” I drop a large pouch on the table. “And for the poor,” a second of about the same size drops onto the oak beside Father Murphy’s plate of toast.
Sitting down, I stab a fork-full of pancakes and stuff my mouth. The semi-sweet mouthful is cold, but the overabundance of berries makes them perfectly wonderful anyway. Kathleen has apparently cleaned up the broken teapot, but she’s back now, hovering over Father Murphy’s shoulder as he reaches for one of the leather bags. If I were to guess, everyone else within earshot is paying attention too.
He pulls the drawstring loose and opens the neck of the grapefruit-sized bag. I would swear there are tears in his eyes.
“Look, I can convert them into whatever form you need; I just want you to know I’m telling the truth, I want to help. There should be a million or so in each bag; if not, I’ll get more.”
Bless her, Kathleen throws her motherly arms around me and starts to cry.
Finally, Father Murphy speaks, “Are you sure you can trust us with so much?”
I had honestly not expected this line of thought. “Shouldn’t I?”
“I’m not sure we can use this much before it tempts us to think of ourselves.”
“Well, start a business, invest it in the community, buy a fishing boat or two to give the kids a chance to learn their way... I don’t know what’s best, but you seem to be the one they trust, so you’re probably the best one for them to look to.”
“I accept your proposition, but this is enough,” he says, hefting one of the bags and pushing the other pouch back towards me. “The church was once accused of losing its way to pursue wealth, always with wonderful sounding explanations... grand buildings, greater ministries, and still greater at paying its ‘ministers’ their fair ‘double portion’. Your charity should be used for what you ask, and not to make us comfortable or unconcerned for our vocations.”
“As you wish, Sir.” I pick the refused bag back up and cram it into a cargo pocket.
“God brought you to us in our time of need. Thank you, Padraig.”
I nod, but have to admit I’m disturbed almost to distraction by the twin thoughts of a mission against a Wobby loyalist uprising and the chance that mum could be there.
Apparently, my distraction is noticed, but misread... “I promise you that we will use it wisely, and never for our own enrichment.”
Trying to smile, however pathetically, I reply, “not a problem, Sir. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have given them to you in the first place.”
“Then what’s wrong, s... lad? Feel you are losing something you really want?”
“No, Sir. There is something else that I am concerned about, one of those ‘lesser of the evils’ type choices that I may be faced with.”
“Let tomorrow be, today has enough worries of its own.”
“I’ll probably have to choose today.”
“Then choose the one that does the least harm to those who are innocent.”
“What if there are none innocent?”
He looks at me, through me. I feel a tug at my soul, as if a curtain were being pulled back. There is compassion growing there, and a quiet peace.
“You must do nothing. Both other choices are potentially disastrous.”
“How do you know?” A horrid thought comes upon me, “Are you a mind reader?”
“No, lad. But He knows and has chosen to tell me. Not the normal way to find these things out, but you aren’t one of us yet, so perhaps this is how He wishes to reveal a bit of Himself to you.”
“Who?”
“Our Lord sees every heart and speaks to us according to His own wisdom. Your choices are to spy out and then direct a military action, to somehow assist the other side, or to do nothing. I don’t know the details, but there are some horrible consequences for each of the first two. Trust Him or at least trust the guidance I have heard from Him as a consequence of this sign of knowledge.”
I’m thunderstruck, a statue of chilled granite lost in the ramifications... if he is a mind reader, there may be ulterior motives for him to speak so. On the other hand, if there were mind readers, the Wobbies would certainly have found them and put them to bad use a long time ago.
The alternative is something Mister Lewis writes about, a Someone who Father Murphy is in communication with... a Person who isn’t visibly present and yet is quite aware of not only my actions, but my thoughts.
“Padraig, sometimes it takes a leap of faith to accept the incredible. I believe it was Doyle who wrote, ‘once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however incredible, must be true.’ When the option is presented, I pray you believe and make the right choice.”
“Padraig, we will need that run, are you up for it?” It’s Mister Kell again, this time driving the little electric cart himself.
I’m on the path from the mechbay to meet with Father Murphy; he’s promised to give me a tour of the orphanage and their meeting house. But there’s absolutely no doubt in my mind what I need to do right now.
“The run to Prontsi, Sir?”
“Yup, ready to go?”
“No, Sir.”
“May I ask why?”
“It’s the Blakist Loyalists you are moving against, right?”
“Yes, it is. Thought you were opposed to them.”
“It’s possible that if my mum’s still alive that she’s among them. I can’t be sure enough of myself to move against them with that possibility over my head.”
“Are you sure of this?”
“No, Sir, not sure at all. She left the day we were attacked... but it was she who notified the Wobbies. I never cared to know what had happened to her, but now... well, I can’t do it, Sir.”
“I respect that, pilot. Anything else I should know about?”
“No, Sir. I hadn’t even thought about that until this morning when I heard the news about the Loyalists.”
“May I ask you a personal question? Are you really only sixteen?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, I’m sure you can guess that I’m disappointed, but I think your choice reflects well that you know a lot more about your own limitations than most do at your age. Have to admit, I’d rather find out now than on the field when I might be depending on you to behave differently. We’ll speak no more about it.”
The little cart turns and sort of speeds away... well, hurries anyway. If I were to guess, his expression betrayed little if any anger, but was already on to his next option.
The memory of Colonel Harper’s face haunts me from that long meeting room, he knew he had chosen what he considered the lesser of terrible evils. He could not have known the titanic power of the events he set in motion. Now I am trusting that something greater than me knows that I don’t have to choose. What if I’m wrong?
“Look, I’m about halfway though and I just don’t understand some things. I mean that what he says makes a certain amount of sense, but I don’t quite see what someone writing twelve hundred years or so ago has to do with now. And it’s like he presumes that I know something about this stuff.”
We’re sitting on a bench in warm sunshine just outside the nondescript building that houses Father Murphy’s parish meeting place, his own quarters, and about twenty orphans. I have my copy of Mere Christianity in hand.
“Well, if that’s a problem for you, wouldn’t the fact that the Bible’s last book is over three thousand years old and most of it closer to four bother you?”
“I don’t know, what’s actually in it?”
“Padraig, don’t you have a Bible or even a New Testament?”
“No, Sir.”
“I’ll take care of that. Would you come with me?”
We stand and walk the moderately groomed path back to his rooms.
“How does a Bible relate to Lewis’ book?”
“Lewis is an explainer, but the Bible is the foundation he presumes you at least know about.”
Inside, he strides to a shelf with at least twenty books on it. But he pauses, as if held captive by a thought, then turns and walks back to his desk. There’s an old leather-covered tome in a lower drawer, its plain brown cover looking well-worn from use. Gently he lifts and fondly considers it.
“This Bible was given me by a Protestant, bless his soul, before I was old enough to actually know the differences. It has no title on the binding, because he was a traveler among the Capellans and the Bible is still a banned book in many places there. His only requests were that I consider it and the One it points to and that I pass it on when the time was right. That’s what I do now, you should have this.” Without further ceremony, he hands the volume to me.
The book is large and fairly heavy, but its cover feels like it has resided in a hundred gentle hands, comfortable as a fine glove. Inside, there are thousands of printed pages, and handwritten notes in the margins and most of the other blank spaces.
“Some of those notes are mine, others were there before me.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“If I may be so bold, start with the Gospels... they are here,” he reaches over and flips pages more than halfway through and places a slip of paper to mark their start.
“Why there instead of the beginning?”
“The Bible is a collection of many smaller books collected into two sections, the Old and New Testaments. The Gospels are the start of the latter, and represent something of a new starting place within the collection. The things Lewis is trying to explain are best addressed in the Gospels and Epistles.”
“Ok, I have no clue what those are.”
“Gospel is from an ancient English word for ‘good news’; there are four of them and they are records of Jesus’ ministry on Terra. ‘Epistle’ is from the ancient Greek word ‘epistolos’ meaning letter; they are instructions from specially selected authors in the first century of the current era.”
“Lot of history there. I just don’t get what it has to do with today.”
“Padraig, truth never goes out of date, or it wasn’t true to begin with.”
I feel rather drained. “I need to go get some rest and think about all this.”
“No problem, Padraig. You’ll come to the celebration tonight, won’t you?”
“What?”
“I’ve declared a ceilidh in your honor, it’s something of a celebration with LOTS of dancing, music, and Kathleen, bless her heart, has promised a special treat. Most of the parish will be there.”
“I don’t want them to know I did this.”
He looks at me with that ‘you’re a strange young man’ expression. “You wanted the gift to be anonymous?”
“Yes. Please.”
“I’ll do what I can, but you realize that more folk than Kathleen already know, just by the public manner in which you gave it.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You have a generous heart, let them honor you tonight. If you want to give without others knowing, however, you’ll have to learn to be a bit more circumspect in your approach.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be there tonight, Sir.”
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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Country: USA
| Posts: 241 |
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Mar 29 2008 : 12:36:40
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Chapter 20 - Not a Game
A siren howls in the street outside the mechbay entrance, its call echoing through the gantries and equipment of the rather empty cavern. It is a mournful wail, sending an unexpected chill though me. There’s a whiff of smoke playing with my nose, I don’t think I’d notice it if I hadn’t heard the siren, but I’m sure it isn’t significant.
I’m not sure why I give the sound any consideration as it fades; the air wrenches, grinders, welders, and cranes down at the garrison end soon drown out all but its memory. The gallery feels deserted; two lances of Kell Hounds stalked out a few hours ago and the garrison lance is in the first four bays at the far end.
Now I’m sure there’s more than a hint of burnt in the air.
A second siren goes by, followed rapidly by a third.
I wonder if I can see the smoke from the street, and I stroll to an open door to satisfy my curiosity.
There are three buildings on fire or smoking... my cabin, Kathleen’s restaurant, and the Father Murphy’s quarters.
Running, madly running.
There’s nothing to stop for at my cottage, nothing remains but smoking bricks and firefighters trying to keep nearby homes from burning. It’s not as obliterated as the farm had been, but it still is gone.
Running more.
Kathleen’s on a stretcher, bawling uncontrollably, perhaps at her loss, perhaps from pain...
There are others I don’t recognize, some badly burnt or coughing.
More sirens in the distance.
Two boats are blasting seawater onto the fire with a fair amount of success, I think they may save most of the building.
Running again.
I can hear a child screaming.
The fire at Father Murphy’s has consumed his quarters and is raging through the meeting area towards the children’s dormitories... there are even rogue flames already scorching the access-way. There are two firemen and several others trying to quell the insistent conflagration, but they seem undermanned for the task.
They’re holding a big hose while a boat pump pushes several hundred gallons a minute towards the fire.
“How can I help?!” I holler above the din of the blaze and the sirens.
One of the firemen waves me over to the hose, “hold my spot here! I need to make sure they’re all out!”
I take hold of the hose. I’m behind the fireman who controls the nozzle; the weight and stiffness of the hose is quite significant at my position and I lend all my weight to the task.
Kathleen rests acceptably in the best wing of the smallish hospital. I’ve paid for the best bed and care they have. These are locals anyway, they already love the dear waitress, but I have made sure there are no impediments to her care. Her bandages don’t seem to have dimmed her smile, I would guess she was drugged if not for the clarity in her eyes.
“They were after the diamonds you gave Father Pat. Don’t know how they knew, they weren’t our folk.”
The diamonds... I caused this disaster?
“Did you see them then?”
“No, they wore baklavas and I didn’t recognize their voices... sounded like southern provincials...”
I haven’t heard anyone around who sounds like that, but it doesn’t mean I know everyone.
“... I tried to help everyone get out after they started the fire,” she continues, “but I lost track of the Flynns and U’Garas; do you know if they made it?”
“No, Mam. No idea who they are.”
“Never you mind, lad. Its all fine, that.”
I try to remember all the faces I’d seen being attended to in the makeshift triage, but none elicit emotion...
“Have you seen Father Murphy?”
She hesitates, her eyes softening. Suddenly, I feel like a child cornered by a rabid street gang, an unexpected fear sending adrenaline flooding though me.
“Haven’t they told you?”
I can’t breathe.
“They shot him before starting the fire.”
“I’m Colonel O’Neill. I have a few questions for you, Pilot Carns.”
Through the haze of pain and anguish I look at the officer standing in front of me. Colonel O’Neill is built a lot like my da had been, strong, wiry, and about a meter seventy-five tall. He seems ageless, I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that he’s thirty-five or sixty-five. Like Colonel Harper from the Refuge, he wears command well, but I have to wonder if he could make the same mistakes. No matter how pointless his questions, I will help if I can.
“Sure, whatever you need, Sir.”
“Please follow me.”
We walk past garrison ‘Mechs to what must be their offices. A huge green banner on the far wall proclaims in vivid gold letters that this is the home of the 1st Fenian Cavalry, beneath which is a golden harp. Though the room’s stone is a little less dark, it looks to be the same design as those at the Oakland Refuge; even the hallway out of the reception area carries a sense of deja vu as we walk down it.
He turns into a smallish room, sparsely appointed, and motions me to one of the three chairs.
“I can tell you’re a bit upset, but I need information. I hope you’ll cooperate.”
“Sure.”
“I understand that you recently met some of these people, including Father Pat.”
“Who?”
He looks at me a moment, as if I am being obviously deceptive.
“The only ‘Father’ person I know is ‘Father’ Murphy.”
He chuckles, “same person, Pilot, Father Patrick Murphy.”
There’s a monster lurking on the edge of my emotions... I can’t see it, but I can smell death on its breath...
“Yes, Sir.”
“And I understand that you made a donation to help the Irish orphans under his care.”
... it moves closer, fear fleeing into me at its approach... I can almost hear it lick its lips in anticipation of a meal...
“Yes, Sir.”
“Not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
... it is bigger than shadow, more like a starless night in the wilderness... its step is too silent, sucking sound from the air...
“I don’t understand.”
“You gave him a bag with several million c-bills worth of diamonds, and had a second one yourself.”
It’s so hard to concentrate on this... how can I answer completely with a soul crusher ready to pounce on my agonized spirit?
“Yes, Sir. I actually have a lot more.”
His expression is hard to interpret, he could think I am lying or he could simply be processing the information. The effort to understand buys me a reprieve from the hovering oppressiveness, so I work harder to interact.
“I was trying to help the kids, I didn’t mean for anything evil to happen to anyone.”
“Why not just c-bills?”
“I thought the garrisons didn’t have them, Oakland didn’t. Colonel Harper said to put my credits into gemstones and I’ve been too sick to consider trying to convert the lot of them back.”
“I see.” He shakes his head sadly, then continues, “Did anyone else see you give him the diamonds?”
“Just Kathleen and some folks in the diner.”
“You gave millions in diamonds to him out in the open in Kathleen’s restaurant?”
“Yes, Sir. I dropped the pouch on our table at breakfast.”
He shakes his head, a sadness growing in his own eyes.
“Sir, I don’t think she would have done it.”
His eyes sink, he’s no longer looking me in the eye... “I know she didn’t, Pilot.”
There’s something he isn’t telling me, something he knows or suspects...
“What do you know, Sir?”
He’s looking straight at me again, “no, I’m the investigator, not you. I won’t have you trying to start a vendetta. When I know for certain, I’ll deal with it according to our rules.”
We sit looking at the other.
A minute has passed.
It’s still silent.
“How old are you, really?”
I can sense the hideous thing creeping back to stalk my emotions again.
“Sixteen, Sir.”
“From a farm or really small community?”
How can knowing that resolve this catastrophe? As the monster again breathes fumes of horrible origin, I know that I must be without hope...
“Yes, Sir. What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, really... it’s just a little hard to imagine that you’ve become a respected pilot while remaining quite so naive. Inexperience with larger community life would do more to explain the reason than anything else.”
Its my fault, I know it. I remember just this afternoon experiencing the jovial man’s kindness and friendship. I can almost see his smiling face and hear the emotion in his voice as he talked about the children in the orphanage. I am again without a friend... at my realization of this fact, the beast springs and I collapse into dispair.
“Padraig, Sonia wants to speak with you.”
It occurs to me that Alexis has repeated this at least once.
“Tell her I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Aff.”
I don’t remember much since the fires... been a day or two, I think. I’ve slept in the Shark, eaten in the mess, drilled when I could concentrate, and spoken to no one. The pain of what I’ve done consumes every moment that I don’t overload with focused activity. I want to lash out, to destroy the deviants who ruined so much hope... and I want to withdraw from everyone because I only bring disaster.
“Sonia wants to know if that is, and I quote, ‘a galactic minute or something a bit sooner’?”
“What? I just said I’d be down in a minute.”
“Actually, Sir, you said that twelve minutes and forty seconds ago.”
How did so much time go by?
“Oh, sorry. Canopy up, please.”
It starts up, brisk morning air flooding the compartment.
“I take no offense, Sir. You have not been yourself.”
The scramble to the ground is all done on mental autopilot, I am as unaware of it as I am of the time.
Sonia has her arms crossed across her chest in that universal indication of annoyance. But her facial expression is in flux, one moment seemingly frustrated and the next rather concerned.
“What’s wrong, Paddy?”
“What isn’t?”
“Well, I thought you would at least be glad to see me back... but you look terrible... and what do you mean, ‘what isn’t’?”
“Stuff has happened since you left.” The gnawing horror that lurks behind my heart stirs, but I’m already numb to its machinations... just as I’m numb to everything else.
“What’s happened, Pad? Tell me.”
I open my mouth; for a moment words seem ready to form for speech... but the moment passes and I close my mouth before it can catch flies.
“Padraig Carns, WHAT IS WRONG?!”
I just shake my head. What is the point of anything? Why remember, she could never understand and the only peace I have is in forgetting. Better to keep the monster caged by the past, that to let it gnaw on my bones.
I turn back to the first foothold but she catches my shoulder.
“Padraig, what has happened? You look like you lost your best friend. There’s pain and discouragement in your every motion, I’ve never seen you like this.”
I look back at her, there’s a familiar caring there... why does she care about me at all?
“I killed a friend. Please leave me alone.”
“What? Pad, what has happened? Tell me, please... I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”
“That’s a load of trash. I know what you look like when you’re fine, this isn’t it, boy.”
“Whatever.” Again I turn for my ‘Mech.
“Are you drunk?”
“No.”
“Drugged?”
“No.” It occurs to me that the guys at school who did drugs usually seemed happier than their circumstances would have suggested, so I continue, “should I be?”
“Don’t be stupid; of course not, silly.”
“But I am stupid, naive too.”
Alexis speaks from above, “Mam, you might do better with the garrison commander, Colonel O’Neill, I believe.”
Sonia looks up at the ‘Mech, “you’ve never spoken to me like that before, Alexis.”
“He has been like this for days, Mam. If you care enough to help, he needs it.”
“Bull, I don’t need anything. Both of you leave me alone.”
“Thanks, Alexis, I’ll check with the Colonel. Don’t let him do anything foolish, ok?”
“I don’t have that authority, Mam. But if you get him some help, we will both be better for it.”
“Shut up, Alexis.”
“As you wish, Sir.”
I collapse into the command chair and stare at the console.
There’s a fire burning, the horses are terrified and saying so. It’s the hay field, something must have set it off... the barn is close downwind. I’m running as fast as my legs will go. The grass is unnaturally deep here and as fast as I am trying to run, the distance is not closing as fast as it should.
My hands are wrong... no, actually, my hands are six years old and so is the rest of me. The barn is a long two hundred meters away, I have to run faster, the horses are screaming.
My little legs go as fast as I can drive them.
There’s another sound, Sabby barking insanely... she’s in there too!
I trip in the grass over a stone, falling hard. Up I jump to run, but the fire’s already there! Dry wood converts to flame before my horrified eyes, I have to get there! The west side becomes engulfed in a wind-driven inferno. I fall again, crying and screaming myself.
“God Help Me!”
There is a familiar man suddenly standing there, I’ve seen him before, I just don’t remember where.
“Let it go, Padraig.”
“No!” I try to stand and run again, but he just wraps his arms around me and holds me in the most comforting embrace. I beat on him like Bobby once beat on me, and he just speaks words of comfort and peace. I cry and cry. The pain is too great and I don’t want to look again, to see the loss.
I finally look up at his face and see acceptance... it is strangely the right thing to see.
“It wasn’t your fault. You may grieve for Patrick Murphy now, but first you should know that he is glad I let him meet you. When you are done grieving, rejoice that you had this chance and learn from what he and the others here are teaching you.”
I’m no longer a boy, and I’m standing by the ruins of the little diner.
“Why did he have to die?”
“Padraig, why is not yours to know. Just know that I was not surprised.”
“Then you let this happen?”
“Can you see all the results? Can you move everything to accomplish good?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have let him suffer like that.”
“Remember the lesson of Colonel Harper, he thought he saw all ends and missed the right choices. There are two foundational facts you must recognize from the start, Padraig. First, there is one God. Second, you are not God.”
“Are you?”
I wake with a start, the coolness of the cockpit somehow fresher than I remember it.
“Sir, Sonia would like to speak with you if you’re up to it.”
“Thanks. Mam. Canopy up.”
“Are you feeling better, Sir?”
“I’m not sure I’m better yet, but I seem to be feeling again. Thanks for asking, Alexis.”
“Good to have you back, Padraig.”
I scramble out and climb down. Sonia is watching me closely, and her body language seems a little defensive... I guess I deserve no less.
“How was your trip, Mam?”
“I know what happened, Padraig, I’m so sorry, are you ok?”
“Let’s go for a walk, ok?”
“Sure, lead on.”
She is close, right beside me. When I glance at her I see nothing but caring and compassion... well, I imagine affection, but it’s probably just wishful thinking.
The road is a morass of half dried mud recently churned by heavy vehicles, we have to pick our way along to avoid wearing too much of it. We pass the charred bits of my cottage. The air is fresh of the sea, it has scoured the community of smoky aromas, at least for now.
Finally, we stand near the diner’s blackened remains.
“I met a Christian here, named Father Murphy. You’d have liked him, he was a good man. I wanted to do good for some orphans and anyone else that needed it, so I gave him a bag of diamonds. Someone found out and tried to get him to give them up. He died here.”
“I know, Padraig. Kathleen says you were a blessing to everyone here. She said another minister is taking over and that the orphans are still going to be cared for. Your gift is already safely working for those you gave it to.”
“You know Kathleen?”
“I do now, like most of the little Irish community here, they’ve been worried about you. You seem to have a way of making people like you.”
“He gave me an old Bible, said he had gotten it from a protester.”
“Protestant?”
“Maybe, sounds about right.”
“It must be special for him to have kept it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“By all accounts, he was Catholic. Not as much difference on core issues as there once was, but still a distance between.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Someday maybe I’ll try to explain it; it’s a long and somewhat boring tale if you don’t have a horse in the race.”
“Huh?”
She laughs, “sorry, maybe I should have said, ‘if you’re not a Christian’.”
We stand there looking at soot stained woodwork, heat-warped counter-tops, and what I would guess was once a large griddle.
“Have you read any of it yet?”
“What?”
“The Bible he gave you?”
“No, it was the same afternoon that this happened. I haven’t been very...”
“Yeah, I know. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“If that praying stuff you did for little Bobby works for teenagers, I could use some.”
She smiles, “you got it, boy.”
“Thanks, girl.”
“Thanks for coming, Pilot. This shouldn’t take long.”
I’m sitting in a small briefing room at Colonel O’Neill’s request, he and an attractive woman of the same rank sit across from me. She hasn’t been introduced or spoken yet, and I can’t see a name plate, so for now I’m concentrating on Colonel O’Neill... but she’s watching me closely nevertheless.
“May I ask the reason you summoned me, Sir?”
“Right to business, I like that.”
I don’t think he’s being disingenuous, but I also have no doubt that the woman doesn’t approve of my question.
He continues, “I understand that Kell asked you to run a recon to Prontsi and that you refused. Is this correct?”
Hmmmm, this is a rather unexpected direction of interest. “Yes, Sir.”
She is very intense now, “Why?” The word is spit out as if the very need to ask the question is vile.
“Mam, I have my reasons. I am not even sure who you are or why you have reason to question them...”
Wrath flashes in her eyes. “Who are you to think you can ask my reasons, you...
He cuts her off with an abrupt wave of his hand. “Pilot, I’d like to know your reasons... for starters, I need to be certain that you’re not a threat to security here.”
“Do you know as much as Colonel Harper did?”
“I’ve read his reports and obtained the same information he had access to.”
“Have you seen any reports since the final action.”
“Yes, I’ve considered them also.”
“Then you know that I assisted the Refuge at great personal risk. That I have no home to go back to and that I lost my da there.”
“And your mother?”
“She left before the Wobbies came, I would guess she was the one that turned us in.”
“Is she a loyalist?”
“Most likely, if she’s still alive.”
Now the woman rejoins the conversation, “Have you had any contact with Word of Blake agents?”
“No, Mam. May I have your name, please?”
“No.”
Even Colonel O’Neill seems a bit distracted by her antagonism.
“Look, Paddy, we are trying to determine if your presence in the Bay represents any serious risks to us.”
Paddy, is it? I’m starting to trust him less and less. Could this be that staple of old holovid police shows, the good cop, bad cop routine?
“I was invited here by the Kell Hounds, who saw me in the field against Wobby ‘Mechs. They seem satisfied with me. What exactly is your concern, Sir?”
“You are our concern,” she interjects, again there is more venom in her tone than warranted by a criminal, much less by myself.
I choose to ignore her and continue to look at Colonel O’Neill for his answer.
She is undeterred, “It says here that you are sixteen. Is this correct?”
I slowly let my attention shift to her, she’s making me angry, but I’m trying to be more adult about it than my mood would dictate, “Yes, Mam.”
“Yet you have your own ‘Mech and apparently a reasonable fortune as well.”
“I inherited my first ‘Mech, Mam, bought this one, and I have earned part and been given the rest of that fortune.”
“The Raven wasn’t yours in the first place,” she spits out.
“It was my granpa’s, Patrick Carns’.”
“All ‘Mechs on this planet not in Blakist control were confiscated by the garrisons, you have no right to one that was hidden from our rightful ownership.”
“Excuse me?”
“You will speak to me with respect, boy! You’re spawn of a traitor, an unpatriotic imbicile, and now a renegade merc, you’ll do what you’re told...””
I’m on my feet and she a half moment later. She reaches for her holster, but isn’t as practiced at clearing her weapon and it hasn’t begun to raise before my mine that is drawn and aiming at her face...
“STOP!” Colonel O’Neill is on his feet now, too, hands out to try to force our attention onto himself.
“I challenge you to Trial of Grievance over your blatant disrespect for me,” and then with all the sarcasm I can throw into it I add, “Mam!”
Her eyes widen a bit amid an angry flush.
“There will be no challenges here!” He’s angry now.
“Then why are you playing this ‘good cop, bad cop’ garbage if you aren’t trying to provoke me? There’s no excuse for this, even Harper treated me better.”
“Colonel Harper to you, brat,” she needles.
“Shut up, both of you!”
An armed guard has appeared in the doorway. “Drop the weapon!” he hollers while trying to pull his own pistol.
“Stand down Sargent!” It’s perhaps the first good move that Colonel O’Neill has made in the last few minutes; I don’t intend to surrender my weapon, and a shootout wouldn’t make anyone happy right now. The guard leaves his hand on his pistol, but complies and it does not come out.
“I want both of you to sit down.”
“I’m NOT surrendering my weapon and it WON”T be holstered with HER IN HERE!” I’m trying to keep my tone even, but my failure leaves no doubt to any of us that I’m near rage and my control is tenuous. My pistol isn’t shaking, but most of the rest of me borders on it.
“Pilot, keep your weapon, but SIT! NOW!” This last word is more roared than spoken. He’s used to having his orders followed and is rather angry that the situation has gotten so far out of his control.
To her, he continues, “you too, Colonel, this is my command, not yours.”
“I don’t have to take that from you, O’Neill, I outrank you.”
“I don’t answer to you either, Colonel, this is my base. If you can’t control yourself I have the authority here to have you removed.”
“Do that and you’ll be washing tank treads.”
“Are you provoking me now, Colonel?”
“If you’re going to interfere with my interrogation of this child, then I don’t care what you call it.”
I shake my head, it’s time to reevaluate my options here. Oddly enough the motion draws both of their attention.
“Interrogation? Colonel O’Neill, I want to clarify if I am free to leave this sorry affair before I am forced to instigate a Trial with this...”
She’s livid, “You are mine to do with...”
“No, HE’S NOT! Shut up, Colonel or I’ll have you arrested.”
“Your superiors will hear of this! And I’ll deal with you yet, boy!” With this final outburst, she storms past the somewhat stunned looking Sargent and out the door.
Colonel O’Neill looks back at me, sadly shaking his head, “you would have to be too experienced to be intimidated. Do you still need that now?” He indicates my raised pistol.
“Well, Sir, I hope not.” I holster it and sit down.
“She’s a formidable officer.” He sits down wearily, the aura of command significantly diminished. “You need to understand that no matter how you were raised, she’d never accept a Clan style Trial, or if she did, she’d never obey their rules. She might, however, accept a duel, something you do NOT have my permission to execute while here.”
“I won’t challenge her on your turf; if she presses the issue, however, I’ll defend myself.
“Yeah, I guess you would.” He’s slowly shaking his head, “I’d suggest you catch the first jump ship you can... I think the Hounds would be glad for your company. Until then, don’t venture too far from your ‘Mech, she’s quite capable of revenge.”
“Who was that, Sir?”
“Colonel Ts’eng, the garrison commander for the Prontsi district and ranking officer on this continent. She’ll probably be the continental governor if she can quell the Loyalist uprisings quickly.”
“She’ll be governor? You’re right, I need to go.”
“You’re too...”
A loud alarm sounds somewhere out in the ‘Mech bays. A commlink activates, the Colonel raises it to his ear and answers. I can hear the siren through the phone, but Colonel O’Neill presses it tighter to his ear and covers his other with his hand. Now he looks at me and I have a very bad feeling.
“Come with me,” he orders and we are almost running out into the bays. From almost 500 meters away, I know my Sha Yu is creating the din that could rival a mountain thunderstorm. By the time I’m within a hundred meters, the sound is almost too loud for me even with my hands pressed tightly against my ears.
“ALEXIS!”
The volcano of sound stops so quickly that I am somewhat disoriented by its unexpected absence.
“Do you consider the ‘Mech secure, Sir?”
“What happened, Mam?”
“A female approached the left leg and attempted to gain access to a control panel. I gave her a reasonable shock and started both the self-destruct countdown and the alert. If you are certain the ‘Mech is secure, I will reset the self-destruct.”
The Colonel looks at me with a grin, seeming for the moment almost human. “I’d heard about your AI, looks like she’s as smart as Harper said.”
“Thank you, Sir. Alexis, please disable self-destruct, then run a full diagnostic and scan.”
“Done, Padraig. Starting diagnostic and scan.”
“Let me ask you straight, do you have any sympathies that would threaten my base or those living here?”
“No, Sir. Not a chance. I originally wanted to come here to get off the Wobby world, now I’m certain I want off if folks like her will take over.”
“If you don’t like what she represents,” he is nodding “you’ll need to get offworld soon... things here will get a lot worse before they’ll have a chance to get better.”
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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Country: USA
| Posts: 241 |
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ButtcraxOMO
Administrator
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Posted - Apr 04 2008 : 14:51:41
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Dude, Write faster!
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I am Lancelot of Borg, Resistance is Feudal |
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Country: USA
| Posts: 586 |
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OldNo7-OMO
frequent visitor
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Posted - Apr 05 2008 : 18:24:26
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Yea, need a couple more chapters.
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Government big enough to supply everything you need is big enough to take everything you have ... The course of history shows that as a government grows, liberty decreases.
Thomas Jefferson
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Country: USA
| Posts: 125 |
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Apr 10 2008 : 23:18:06
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Chapter 21 - Don’t Look Back
“Well, if you aren’t members, we can still give you a lift, though it will have to be for a fee of either goods or services.” Brian Kell’s demeanor is direct and business-like, I detect no anger or frustration over my refusal to go to Prontsi. “How many ‘Mechs and how much weight total do you want moved and to where?”
“Two mechs, Sir, 105 tons. Not sure where at first, though I eventually need to make it to wherever Wolf space is.”
His glance becomes a stare, one that I notice is shared by Sonia, then he returns to business, “well, for now, we have nothing so ambitious available, but there are several actions we’re interested in taking that are much closer but headed in that general direction.”
“Service contracts?” Sonia asks quietly.
“We always need good pilots. If you two constitute a unit, we could sponsor you as a team, or we could contract with each of you independently. If you rather not fight with us, you can pay for steerage or first class.”
I look over at her and notice that Colonel O’Neill has just walked in to stand behind us.
“May I speak with these two for a moment, Brian?” he asks.
“Please feel free to do so, Colonel.”
Colonel O’Neill motions both of us to follow him into the hallway.
“I have it on good intel that I’ll be relieved of command in the morning. The two of you need to be offworld by then or you’ll be most unhappy with your circumstances.”
“Thanks. What will you do?”
He grins, “was meaning to talk with you about that. I need to leave also, but I’m a bit short on cash and don’t have a ‘Mech of my own... if you’re forming a unit, I’d rather merc for you if I can be in a good ‘Mech sooner than I would by getting tied into a long Kell contract.”
“Well, Sonia’s the more experienced partner if we go that way, it’s up to her.” Even as I say this, however, she’s shaking her head.
“No, Pad, I want input on our choices, but you’re the natural leader... I say it’s your call. Besides, if you lead,” she grins, “you put up the money to buy stuff.”
They’re both looking at me now.
“But I’m only sixteen and naive, how do you expect me to lead?”
They exchange glances, look back at me, and say almost at the same time, “with help.”
“Well, that I need anyway.”
Their expressions remain unconvinced and I guess it couldn’t hurt.
“Ok, but I need to know your first name, Colonel.”
“Michael. Mike is ok, but don’t even think about calling me Mickey.”
“No problem, Mike.” Sonia smiles at me as I continue, “what do you drive, or what do you prefer?”
“I’m partial to heavies... I think the merchants were about to transport a few up, bet they would sell one... I would really like that Toyama that came from the Refuge salvage batch, if you can swing that.”
“What is it?”
“Seventy-five ton Wobby mech: two ERLL, LBX10, LRM20, three medium lasers and ECM. Not very fast, but lots of power, a good round out for the Sha Yu and Vulture, especially since your Sha Yu is so swung towards a command or scout role.”
“Hmmm, all ECM mechs, that might be an advantage. How much?”
“I think he wants twenty million for it, but I bet he’d take fifteen cash.”
“Wow, that’s more than half of what I’ve got left,” I reply, somewhat stunned. “Do you know the chassis?”
“That’s what I’ve had here for almost a decade. I’ve been practicing with one for over nine years; I’ve got no big engagements like you’ve had, but been in lance to lance battles twice and a couple of minor anti-raider actions as well. I took the liberty of looking it over, the one they’re selling’s in great shape.”
I look at Sonia, she just arches her eyebrows as if to say, “it’s up to you.”
“It’ll take some time for you to pay that off.”
“As long as the interest isn’t too high, I’m good with that if you are.”
It feels like a good choice, but I’m reminded of the late Colonel Harper’s comment about how quickly money disappears when you need to buy mechs.
“Ok, lets do it.”
The Colonel... er, Mike, starts to turn back into Brian Kell’s office, but Sonia stops him and addresses me “Padraig, I checked my Clan references, what you told me about not holding the Bloodname ‘Carns’ is true. If you can part with it, we might want to find you another family name to keep from instigating trouble with any of them we might happen to encounter. That or we could add one after it to hide the fact until you choose not to.”
“Can this wait?”
“Actually, while the Colonel still has authority here, he might consider formalizing your choice in any records or on needed documents. It might also make you just a bit harder to track if Colonel Ts’eng’s reach is longer than we think.”
Mike’s expression is unreadable, but his attention’s on me. In fact, they both seem to expect an answer.
“I don’t want to drop Carns, but I guess I could add something for now.”
“Anything you like?”
“Something about being Sean’s son, maybe?”
Mike speaks up, “try Mac Sean or McSean, it would mean Sean’s son in Gaelic or in a historically more modern Irish though still more than a millennia old.”
“I like the latter, Paddy,” Sonia opines.
“Ok, Padraig Carns McSean.”
Mike smiles, “Paddy McSean... it works. I’ll get it taken care of before we leave.”
Kathleen’s starting to cry. On her lap is an envelope and she holds the c-bill voucher slip she’s just taken out of it. There’s sunshine streaming in though the curtain, but it pales next to her smile.
“It’s made out to you so you get to choose what to do with it. Build yourself a new diner or move some place else and start over.”
Her look is suddenly bittersweet.
“You’re leaving then, are you?”
“Yes, Mam. I need to be on the jumpship by 1630 this afternoon. Will you be ok?”
“Yes, Love, hard to miss the signs of a storm comin’ now that the Colonel is leavin’, but we folk know how to weather such, and will yet again, to be sure.”
“I miss your indigoberry pancakes.”
“I know, Padraig, just as I miss your passion for them.”
“I never got to a session to hear your music.”
“Our music, lad, you’re one of us and that’s no lie. Someday you’ll get a chance and you’ll hear us in it when you do.”
An elderly man I don’t recognize has stepped into the room. Oddly enough, he’s dressed in the same odd combination of all black with just a single square of white at his throat that Father Murphy wore.
Kathleen greets him, “Father.”
Before I can speak, he says, “Seamus said he saw you come in here, I’m Father Colm and this is my parish now.”
His smile is broad and his eyes intense, he reminds me a lot of Father Murphy.
“And you must be the Padraig I’ve heard so much of,” he continues, offering his hand.
I extend mine and we shake as I answer, “yes, Sir, that would be me. Pleased to meet you.”
“Told you he was well spoken, didn’t I, Father?”
“Yes, Kathleen, truer words were never spoken.”
“Please, no offense is meant, but I need to go now.” I’m turning for the door.
“Just a minute, Padraig, are you long here or will you be leaving too?”
“I should be offworld by tonight, Sir.”
“Then I should give you this now,” he says while holding out an oddly shaped silvery rod.
“What is it?”
“It’s Father Pat’s penny whistle, though I dare say it’s worth a mite more than a penny. I’ve been told the best person to give it to would be you.”
I look at the instrument.
Now I look back at the man holding it out to me.
“I think there’s some mistake, I don’t know how to use it.”
“I’d heard that too, here’s an old booklet with instructions and some simple tunes to practice. I hear you like ‘The Battering Ram’, so I’ve written it up on the back page.”
The ‘booklet’ is a collection of old yellowed paper pages folded in half and secured together by a pair of metal wire fasteners. On the front in dark handwritten block letters it proclaims, “Father Flannigan’s Irish Whistle Tutor” with an ink drawing of a similar rod superimposed on a shamrock.
He seems undeterred by my initial reticence, “I insist or I’ll read your name at Mass.”
Kathleen pipes up, “He isn’t Catholic, Father. Thought you should know.”
He looks over at her, nods, looks back at me, and starts again, “ah, so gentle threats won’t avail us, will they? Ok, how about something more real: you need this. It’s your link to your people, them what cares about you, folks you’re havin’ ta leave behind. It’s a reminder that no matter how far away you go, you’ll always have a bit of the old sod within and a place among friends here. When you play it, a special part of you will feel at home, and no difficulties will succeed in taking that from you.”
Kathleen nods and smiles, all the while looking at me.
I will miss these people and this place. As a tear fights for freedom from my eye, I reach out and take the whistle.
We’ll be ferried up to the jumpship in a small dropship called the ‘Erin’. It’s a bit smaller than the Kenai, with less room for cargo and clamps for only four mechs. They’re sending Captain Svenson’s two lances up soon, but not for a day or so and we couldn’t risk the wait.
I tromp Shark up the ramp and into the ‘Mech hold, decking plates rattling like they want to surrender and drop me. The afternoon sun is behind the mountains, but there is still a wonderful light filled with blues and greens.
Turning into my spot, backing, now I feel the jaws engage.
“Throttle locked out, Sir.”
“Thanks, Alexis.”
“You are most welcome, Padraig.”
Sonia’s Mad Dog stalks past and Mike’s lanky Toyama follows it. I wound up getting a good deal after all, Sonia’s a shrewd haggler and got me the ‘Mech at just under thirteen million. It still needs a paint job; it’s as white as snow in sunshine... some overambitious yahoo is likely to think it’s still a Wobby and start blasting before asking.
A last ‘Mech tromps in and backs into the final deck clamp. It’s a Lightray; the grey primer paint over the old white seems an oddly subdued comment on the mech that I grew up most associating with the Word of Blake, often seen standing behind the dias at parades or sporting events. This one looks like it is the variant with a PPC, but I’m otherwise unfamiliar with it. I guess they’re ferrying it up to sell or deliver.
The ramp retracts with lots of noisy metallic rumblings and clankings while the exterior door almost silently closes.
The three of us are now “The Wild Geese” in memory of the exodus of two groups of warriors in ancient Ireland: the first led by Red Hugh O’Neill and the second by Patrick Sarsfield. Since Mike’s also an O’Neill and Padraig is just an older Irish spelling for Patrick, it sort of fits. At some level, I also like it being from the same heritage that my friends here are, maybe it’s even a way to honor Father Murphy just a little. Sonia doesn’t mind; she says the idea of warriors leaving their homes never to return applies to all of us.
As a unit, we haven’t decided whether to affiliate with the Kell Hounds, but I guess it’ll be a few weeks before we reach our next destination anyway, so there’s time to consider it and any alternatives. We’ve agreed to support their next contract as long as it meets with Sonia’s approval. Actually, I’m kind of glad she has such clearly stated moral limits, it helps me have a good anchor against something I would regret too.
Mike is full of surprises, two of his crew have opted to join him: Shannon O’Day, his administrative guru and Isoroku Matsushima, his personal crew chief. I haven’t met them yet, much less promised them anything... I guess either we’ll work something out or he’ll take care of them directly.
In a final bit of a shock, he’s also brought his small family: his wife Fionna and their son Brian. I guess it wouldn’t do to leave them if he isn’t coming back, but I still think about Bobby and what would have become of him had we not found Joe. True, Brian is probably closer to ten or eleven, but still, he’s losing home and friends for an uncertain future.
I demech and head to the cabin to watch what I can, my trip in the Kenai is still a wonderfully haunting memory that I want to add to. The Erin’s civilian area is spartan and spare, but not needlessly uncomfortable. Sonia is already looking out one of the small viewports at the green mountains and their brilliant white mantles.
“All passengers, please take your seats, we will leave in two minutes.”
The voice is stiff and controlled, I can’t be sure if it’s a computer or a human. I sit and Sonia comes over to join me. We buckle in and as I’m wondering if Mike and his family will be in his mech, they come bursting in and playfully run to three chairs behind us.
“Are you da’s new boss?” a voice that must be Brian’s exuberantly asks from just behind my head.
“Sit down, Brian and buckle your seatbelt,” a pleasant woman’s voice cuts in quickly, long before I could actually have turned around.
“But Mom...”
“Do as your mother tells you, I’m not saying it twice.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Hmmm, I almost expected someone that age to be a bit, well, more of a handfull... but Brian seems to accept his father’s authority and does as he’s told.
Across from me, a dignified older man sits with his lovely younger wife or older daughter, I’m honestly not sure which. They seem very close, and sit together so that his greying hair is falling onto her jet black tresses, her head resting against his shoulder. They seem rather expressionless, I have no idea what they think of our little entourage. In the corner a redheaded couple is distracted by something on a computer pad, oblivious of anything else.
A uniformed man sticks his head in through a door marked ‘Crew Only’, looks us over, and departs as quickly as he appeared.
It seems that Mike and his family are whispering to each other, but I can’t quite make out what they’re saying.
The voice again speaks from overhead, “Please remain in your seats until the pilot turns off the seatbelt sign. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Well, if they want to give us minimal information, they’ve certainly succeeded.
Sonia leans close and says, “this is an aerodyne dropship, we’ll be able to watch after they clear the mountains and can make a more even ascent.”
It strikes me that I had just figured they would go straight up like the big spherical dropships do, I’d forgotten that the Kenai had stayed pretty level on its way up when we came here.
“Well, what advice might you have as we begin this new journey?” I ask as the Erin’s thrusters come to life and we begin to rise.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”
“Um, ok...”
“We can talk about it some time, but it’s still my advice now.”
The horizon is a thin blue band of atmosphere, the ice-capped planet below and a deep empty everywhere else bejeweled with points of radiance above. Sonia had been right, from up here things are even more incredible. We’ve cleared the mountains and the clouds, now I’m looking north at the incredible polar ice-sheet, stretching unbroken to the edge of the world.
“Padraig, I’d like you to meet my family and associates.”
It’s hard to tear myself away from the view, but Mike and his people deserve at least the courtesy. I admit I’m only slightly surprised to find that in addition to his family, the other four passengers are also standing with him.
“Fair enough.” I say, continuing before he can say more, “Welcome to the Wild Geese. I’m Padraig Carns... um... McSean. I’m pleased to meet each of you.”
I try that little bow that I’ve seen many do after a greeting and to my absolute astonishment everyone except Sonia and little Brian do a similar bow in response; the grey haired man and his companion make what seem especially formal bows.
Sonia looks pleased and I take advantage of the moment to introduce her too, “and this is my best friend and a much better ‘Mech pilot, I might add, Sonia Cramer.”
Now Sonia is beaming. She does an odd maneuver where she bends her knees while staying upright... I’d never seen it, but Mike’s wife and the red-headed woman obviously have and while the others bow, they return the gesture with nearly identical movements, Mike’s wife adding an elegant flourish with her skirt.
If I could guess, Mike thinks I’ve done something impressive; I’m not sure what, but his smile is wide and he seems to be nodding to himself. “I guess it’s my turn now,” he starts, “this is my better half, Fionna and my fine son Brian.”
Mike looks like he is about to turn to the others, but Brian walks forward with his hand out.
“Pleased to meet you, Sir,” he declares and I can’t help but shake hands with so bold a lad.
“And you also, young Sir.”
He keeps shaking my hand, and appears to be working up to saying something...
“Are you my da’s new boss?” he finally gets out.
“Well, lets say that your da is on my team. We’re gonna work together.”
He nods approvingly. “Ok. I better go now,” with which he simply drops my hand and returns to his father’s side.
Mike smiles again, while turning to indicate the older gentleman, “this is my most trusted crewchief and a rather exceptional engineer, Isoroku Matsushima.”
Mister Matsushima bows deeply and I try to respond in kind.
“It will be a pleasure to serve you, Sir. Please allow me to introduce my daughter, Nanako.”
We exchange bows. She seems shy, not really looking me in the eye. I wonder if I somehow frighten her or if she’s upset about having to leave her home like this.
Mike finally indicates the red-headed couple, “and last but not least, my cousin Rory O’Day and his wife Shannon. Shannon has been my administrative assistant and minor miracle worker for seven...”
“Eight...” she interjects.
Smiling, he continues, “correction, eight years. If she couldn’t do it or negotiate getting it done, it required an act of God Himself or at least more than her poor boss could come up with.”
The two of them smile broadly and she says, “I hope you’ll be so kind as to let me do for the Wild Geese what Mike let me do for the Fenian Cavalry.”
“I suspect you’ll get a fair chance, Mam.”
“Wonderful news, that,” she responds with a glorious smile of her own and looks back at Mike.
Mike looks at me. So does Sonia. And everyone else does the same.
I finally say, “well, I have no clue what to say now. I look forward to getting to know all of you.”
My expression must be humorous, because they all smile and laugh a bit, then turn back to their own affairs. All except Sonia, she seems to want to talk.
“You’re doing pretty well. Looked like you might panic there at the end, but you pulled through wonderfully, Paddy.” She pauses, then positively lights up, “and thanks for saying I’m your best friend.”
“Thanks.” Then, before I consider my words, “You look lovely.”
She’s pleased, but I almost feel her evaluating me. “Thanks, Padraig.”
“Wow...” I utter just loud enough to attract Sonia’s attention.
We are on the observation deck of the jumpship “Magister” about 300 kilometers above the planet’s surface. The docking was so quick that I really didn’t know we were even close to it when they announced that we could enter the ship. Now I’m sitting with Sonia on the large couch-like bench looking out at my world slowly rotating below.
For the first time, I see the Southern continent, Cosetica. In school they taught us that it’s a largely inhospitable landmass with only a few coastal settlements and scattered nomads braving the desolation. Now I can see what they never taught us... why it’s so uninhabitable.
“They blasted your little planet into the stone-age, not really surprising that all you had left was agriculture and a little mining.” Sonia has seen this before, but her tone implies more that just observation; I wonder what she knows.
From here, the devastation to what must have been a sprawling megacity is stunning, I literally can’t speak for the moment.
“Once the Jihad began, the Blakists were willing to do the unspeakable, that was your capitol if I remember correctly, center for almost all of your government and industry before 3074. Pops wasn’t sure, but said it looked like three or four fusion weapons, each in the twenty-five to fifty megaton range. You can see there,” she points, “on the left that huge ground zero, that’s at least ten klicks across and the destruction radiates out at least fifty kilometers in all directions.”
There’s nothing to say; what she calls ‘ground zero’ is a huge flat circle with only faintly rough edges set within a cobweb of intersecting lines.
She indicates another vast sand colored plain surrounded by what must have been an even more complex maze of thousands of streets, “Based on how the roads lay, the downtown would have been there.”
There’s nothing there now except a flat expanse surrounded by what must be rubble.
“Pops said that under the sand the surface is fused solid from the heat and pressure of the weapons. Even if the devices were fairly clean, there’s probably still too much radiation to allow anyone near in a daily capacity.”
“Wow.” I want to say something more, but even the recording of granpa’s engagement at Prontsi and the holovids from Solstein have not prepared me to comprehend what this must have been like.
“When we originally came, radiation detectors indicated several other smaller metroplex zones that were totally erased, that one was just too big.”
There really isn’t much left of our planet. It does beg a question, “So, why have all these folks come here if there really isn’t anything left?” I could have asked why she came here, but I feel somehow that I shouldn’t.
“‘Mechs. The Republic has made ‘Mech ownership difficult, and most of the Houses have gone along, at least officially. That has the corollary that all of the well known ‘Mech manufacturing complexes are at most turning out so call “working” ‘Mechs, the Agros, the Constuctions, the Resourcers, that sort of thing. Mercenary units like the Kell Hounds have had real problems since they’re trying to rebuild for the elusive but expected someday when they will be asked to field a substantial force again. Individuals and lance sized units who don’t want to trade in their ‘Mechs for Republic citizenship have had to find the smaller places where conflict could earn us a living... getting mechs for the black market has been the best and your world was one of those sources.”
“So why are we special?”
“I’m not sure. You’re located on the border between the Capellan Confederation and the Free Worlds League. The Blakists had an agreement with House Marik in the years before the Jihad, so there may still be sympathies there that have kept the Capellans away. There were only a few other things I learned down there, and the intel was questionable even then. First, Liao forces were onworld before the Jihad arrived, which explains the fact that many fairly rare Capellan mechs, like your Sha Yu, were there to be salvaged and incorporated into the local Blakist garrisons. Second, they were probably not supposed to be here or the planet would have been listed as Capellan and retaken after most of the other WoB occupied planets in their space fell. Finally, the resources left here appear to be rather limited; longer term resources especially are mostly non-military ones, an assault by either House Marik or House Liao would probably not have provided enough return on investment.”
“So with the Wobbies gone now, what will they think?”
She looks at me like this new line of reasoning might be worth considering...
“If they wait until...” she stops dead in the middle of her sentence and her eyes widen, “what did you say the Colonel’s name was that you almost shot?”
How could I forget, “Ts’eng.”
“A name originally from Terran China, so it’s normally going to be found serving Liao. Maybe we should talk with Mike.”
Our orbit has taken us back over my old home of Termia, one of the two northern continents.
“Ok, let’s.”
As I rise, what is obviously a huge plume of smoke catches my attention, draping a sinister dark glove across what would otherwise be sunset down there. Maybe it’s a volcano... though I don’t remember one there. Hmmm... that’s not right... the geography’s familiar somehow to the west and northwest... that’s the Anta River valley, I’ve seen it in sats a hundred times or more...
Prontsi!
“Oh no!!!” I gasp, stunned.
Sonia looks at me, her expression at least puzzled.
“That smoke plume... that’s...” words fail me for a moment, when I get them back, my voice is hardly more than a whisper, “that’s where Prontsi should be.”
She stares at me for a moment, looks at the thick brown cloud that obscures whatever lies beneath, and shakes her head, “we need to talk with Mike.”
Mike is deep in conversation with Missus O’Day, but he looks up as we approach, “a fine evenin’, Padraig.”
I honestly had no idea the time, but it makes sense.
Sonia, however, isn’t so easily gotten off track, “Couple of questions, Mike, if you’ve got a minute.”
To Missus O’Day, he says, “lets go over that in the morning, ok?”
She nods and rises. “Sir. Mam.” She acknowledges us and we reciprocate. Now she walks to a doorway and is gone.
“You two have that conspiratorial look, what’s up?”
Sonia asks, “what do you know about Colonel Ts’eng?”
“She’s one royal pain,” he chuckles at his gross understatement.
I have to laugh along with him, at least until I get one of those looks from Sonia.
“Mike, we think there might be a link between the Colonel and the Capellans.”
He starts shaking his head “no” but as he opens his mouth to speak, several things happen at once: the movement stops suddenly, his mouth closes, and a thoughtful look sinks comfortably onto his face. He looks at Sonia... at me... at nothing at all...
“I bet you’re right, Mam.”
“Where as she from?” I ask, not wanting to be outdone.
“I’m not sure, somewhere back east.”
“Like Prontsi?”
“No, she moved nearer to Prontsi only a few years back. She was from much further east. The interesting thing, if I remember correctly, was that she brought her own mech, a pristine Men Shen. I remember because, at that time, it was the only operational mech in their stable.”
I look at Sonia, Alexis did have that one in her recognition drills and it’s Capellan.
Sonia nods back at me, she knows it too.
Silence, as we each look at the others.
“So what does it mean to us if she’s from Liao space?” I like Mike, he is asking the straight question instead of posturing.
“What if the Capellans were mildly interested in adding this planet to the Confederation? What if they didn’t want to deal with possible Marik support of a surviving WoB planet that the FWL might think serves as a well armed buffer?” Sonia appears not to have taken a breath yet... “What if the destruction of the entire WoB ‘Mech presence removes the threat of a costly incursion, and the civil chaos gives them a pretext to arriving for the good of the population?”
“What if the Capellans were already nosing around even before the Jihad arrived?” Mike asks back, “and a few advance lances got stuck here?”
I think we are all silently agreeing with each other, that or there is some odd nodding sickness going around.
My mind stumbles over the memory of the cloud. “Mike, do you know what happened at Prontsi?”
“Not for sure. The Hounds took out two dropships and a fair amount of armor, but were ordered to fall back to the north before entering the city proper. Last I heard, they were disengaged and holding a position about fourty kilometers north of town, near a low ridge of hills. The Kenai was due to bring them back to the Bays this evening for repairs. I haven’t seen any other reports yet. Why?”
“There’s a huge smoke cloud over that part of the continent.”
“Well, you have to expect some fires...”
Sonia interrupts, “no, Mike, it’s a big plume.” The way she says “big” is so carefully modulated that without raising her voice it screams, “Humongous!!!”
Mike’s eyes get big and again Sonia nods.
“Can you return to the planet?” Brian Kell’s strained face in the holovid projection is unexpected, his question even more so.
“I’m not sure I understand, Sir. We had to leave this afternoon for our safety and paid extra to do so.”
“You don’t understand, Commander McSean, we need your help. I have the remains of two lances fleeing through the area I believe you came from, the hills northwest of Prontsi. They aren’t pursued by Blakists, but by units that are supposed to be from the commissioning garrison.”
So many things run through my mind... why has he called me “Commander” and what does he mean the remains of two lances? I finally settle for, “what happened to the Kenai?”
“It’s come under fire, we can’t get it close enough without risking it too. You’ll have to hot drop to avoid attack as well, there are cradles in the Erin.”
“Is that Captain Svenson’s unit?”
“It was, he’s missing and presumed dead.”
I realize I’ve just gasped. What should I know? “What do you know about the mechs on the ground?”
“At last count I have five or six left, they have to make it to where we can get them out safely. I can use whatever you can put on the ground.”
“The Anta River valley work?”
“Um... yes, that could work.”
“I can go, let me check with Sonia and Mike to see if they want in too.”
“Please hurry!”
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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Country: USA
| Posts: 241 |
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Apr 11 2008 : 18:48:22
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Chapter 22 - Of Mice and Capellans
Tension fills the Erin with a definite sense of purposeful urgency. We have finished our individual pretrips and are each strapped in.
“Comm check.”
“Here,” Sonia answers.
“Here also,” Mike adds.
“Tone for sequence in two, one, clear. Mark!”
The tone is a brief pulse.
Alexis states, “Switching to command sequence.”
“Thank you, Mam. Command on one, Kell Hounds sequence on two, and Erin control on three.”
“Aff, Sir.”
I click onto one, “Everyone here?”
“Yup.”
“Locked and loaded!”
“Ok, I’ll check for an ETA.”
I can see Chief Matsushima adjusting something on the left leg of Mike’s Toyama. No, now I can see clearly, he has painted a small red disk there, along with some characters that are too small to read or recognize. There must be some significance, it is located just a bit below where the hastily painted unit emblem of the Wild Geese flies heavenward.
“Erin control, do you have an ETA?”
“In position to hot drop in four minutes thirty-five seconds.”
“Thanks, hope they know we’re coming.”
“Mister Kell has arranged that, Sir.
I click back over to ours, “four and a half minutes folks.”
“Copy.”
“Ta.”
There is a huge sense of irony playing with my mind... I will lead us down about ten kilometers from their current position; we’ll drop in near a small clear pond in a black-bottomed crater... my old home.
“Very light comm traffic on the Kell Hounds sequence to the east, about ten klicks out. Fair amount an indeterminate distance south of them on other sequences.”
“Thanks, Mam.”
The ride down has been from maximum height, in the dark and through clouds it’s far less exciting than the sims have been. Considering the tension, I hadn’t expected my first hot drop to be a letdown, but it’s wound up that way. Even now with my light amp on, all I can see is the glow of our cradles’ rocket packs reflected off the approaching ground.
“Touchdown in ten seconds.”
“Thanks, Alexis.”
I hit the ground and the cradle falls with a loud thudd.
Less than a year ago, I lived here. Now I’m back. Have I changed as much as that morning changed this place?
The Kell’s sequence comes to life, “additional units on planet and enroute. What is you current status?”
“From above us and a bit north,” Alexis whispers so I can hear as another unit keys...
“At least one full lance still in pursuit, good pilot with ECM in at least one. We’ve got five in good shape, still have the Loki too, but it’s lost its arms. We’re moving through the trees, not letting them get the long range shots. Still think we could take them, Sir.”
“Negative, not yet. Three ECM mechs closing lead by a local expert, trust him. Head Northwest towards the main road between Prontsi and Daulles, about twenty klicks out.”
This is as we agreed. If, for some reason, the enemy has the sequence, we may be able to swing behind them and even the odds a bit. My team already knows that this is my country, I have lead and they’ll follow without radio contact until we finally engage.
I throttle up and on sensors see my companions do likewise; at fourty, I feather the throttle, no use making the Toyama run too much just yet.
“Alexis, something to fit the mood, please.”
For once, she has to ask, “Sir, a battle tune or something to build up to it more suited for our current motion.”
Hmmm... maybe it would be better not to get my blood up quite yet, “Surprise me with something for the pace, please.”
“Aff, Sir. Perhaps it is a good time to try something you might not expect... do you know any Mozart?”
“Wasn’t he one of the Beatles?”
“No, a few centuries earlier.”
“Then... ummm... no.”
“Good. Try this, Sir.”
We reach the road just as a moderately paced flute tune begins, it is indeed a good match.
Across the pavement we go, the light amp turning the leafless trees ahead into a green canopy anyway. Sonia’s just behind and to my right, a scant thirty meters out. Mike is holding on my left, also a little behind, but more like sixty meters away.
“CTC! Choppers. They are hunting.”
I can see the four red dots moving slowly to the northwest about 1500 meters in front of us. It would make sense that they would be on the wing, so what we want is behind or on the other side. I turn us sharply south, picking up the pace just a bit, and the dance with the trees accelerates. The choppers move on, oblivious to us. We are at least a klick south before I turn east again.
We’re getting close to the Howard’s ranch, a sprawling property with horses and cattle that covers more than a 130 square kilometers. The ground will open out at times, especially towards the winter barns. I don’t really want to fight there, the horses may well already be pastured at night, I’d hate to hurt them.
Something moves in front of me, springing down from a branch to flee from our approach... a somal! I get only one good look and then it vanishes in a blur of motion, zero to over a hundred kph in under four seconds. Once I would have sought its death, now I have bigger prey to pursue.
I see it just as Alexis announces, “CTC, Heavy. Make that two.”
A second dot has appeared, both about a thousand meters out, moving roughly parallel to the choppers. They already have their back flanks to us, we will have uncontested shots if we want them. There are a few paddock’s just ahead of them, it might be a good chance to strike.
“CTC, ECM!”
There in the trees is the Men Shen! I know instantly that we only have surprise for a moment longer, it is just over 800 meters.
“Battlering Ram!” and accelerate to full, dodge a tree and lay reticle on it. Emerald beams reach out and slice an arm cleanly off.
I sprint and dance. On the Kell’s sequence, “Kell hounds, turn and attack, we are engaging from their rear!”
I can see the Men Shen turning to track me, only to rock from blasts the Toyama lays on it.
“Sonia, take either heavy if they engage.”
“Got it, boy.”
“Thanks, girl.”
The target fires, but misses... I wonder if that armor is helping make my enemy’s job harder... My heat’s risen a bit, I run a little more to make sure I stay cooler. It looks like the heavies are turning towards us.
“Sir, it appears the pilot is trying to taunt you.”
“Not interested. He can talk all he wants.”
“She, Sir. From your previous description of the event, I would suspect this is Colonel Ts’eng.”
Damage indicators show she’s already banged up.
On our sequence, “Mike, help Sonia out, those heavies need a fairer challenge.”
“Got it, Pad.”
There are distant flashes to the northwest...
“Kell Hounds engaging.”
“Watch for the choppers.”
The Men Shen turns and fires... again some combination of luck, stealth armor, and dancing skill conspire keep it from hitting me. I now am easily within alpha range and the heat is back down almost to zero. Spinning and dancing, speed and cunning, I want to kill her ‘Mech outright... patience... She turns, stepping back to improve the speed but giving her a bit more blind spot and exposing her nose a bit longer than she could afford: her canopy and my reticle intersect... four lasers reach out, punching clean through her ferroglass and out the top of the cockpit.
There is no eject as the mech slumps, stumbles, and falls. I, on the other hand feel very hot.
“Overheat!” Alexis interrupts, “Shutting down!”
The Sha Yu comes to an abrupt stop, the visor rises and Shark shuts down. Oddly enough, I’m looking almost directly at the dead Men Shen. There’s something anticlimactic about it laying there. It doesn’t seem like I got an epic battle out of her or anything remotely resembling a contest.
I wonder about myself, I feel no pity looking down on the prone mechanism. Of course, why should I feel pity? She deserved it. Well, I think she did. What would Father Murphy think about my responding this way? What would da say? Shouldn’t I feel some remorse for the life I have just extinguished?
The XL starts back up and environmental controls blow the stifling heat clear. I feel the gyros and know I mustn’t waste any more time on her.
A good 500 meters out in front of me, a Raven speeds towards my companions. Now it turns, and we trade large laser fire... from it’s strafe, the beam wanders, but it does briefly hit my left torso. I’m not strafing, however, and twin ERLL slash a two meter wide hole in the left torso armor just behind the canopy hinge. It must not have advanced gyros, the unit stumbles and falls. Pounding up to it, I can see the pilot must be trying to get it back under control, it begins to stand as I lay the HML beams into the hole... the eject pod flies, and the ‘Mech collapses. I turn and speed for the conflict area where Sonia and Mike are fighting. There is a blinding flash reflected all around me, the Raven’s reactor must have exploded.
“CTC, high speed air!”
“Aff, got it.”
They’re moving fast, must be interceptors; I push to 118 kph and arc to get them off the others... the memory of what happened to Rocker gouges at my mind and I want nothing more than to take these without any repeat. Torso twist, first one in reticle, ERLL, second one is tracking straight at me, in range, he has tone and has launched, but my second ERLL takes him out. Not sure if it’s the armor, my ECM, or what, but I manage to evade the incoming missile, leaving it to plow harmlessly into paddock soil.
Back to the fighting, I’m into trees again.
Sonia and Mike appear to be working well together, and there’s a Wolfhound zipping around being a pretty good PITA. Only two more ‘Mechs appear to have enemy indicators, and before I can close, they are gone.
“How are we for ammo?” I key up and ask.
“Getting low.” Sonia replies.
“Me too, Boss.”
“Let me check with the Kells. In the mean time, lets move back towards where we landed.”
“Padraig, you might consider having the drops come in with some ‘Mech recovery if you think we can hold a perimeter.”
Mike has a point.
I click over to the Kell Hounds sequence, “Kell Hounds lead, this is Padraig of the Wild Geese, what is your status?”
“No expendable ammo, lasers only. We lost our Captain in the shockwave after the flash.”
“Flash?”
“Must not have told you, they nuked Prontsi. We were just close enough that the blast wave overtook two of our pilots before they could get to their ‘Mechs. The rest of us rode it out.”
I force my mind to stay focused, I mustn’t think about them using the bomb on my home province.
“Contact your drop ships and see if they show any problems with coming in to recover ‘Mechs.”
“Be right back.”
“Any Kell units that are mostly energy, let’s form a perimeter on the south side to stop incoming air or ground.”
“Paddy, that you?” The voice is familiar, but I can’t quite place it. “Duncan, Sir, in the Wolfie. I met you at the Bays.”
Now I remember, “Good to see you made it, Sir.”
“Good to have made it.”
The Wolfhound runs up and takes a wing position on my flank.
“The Kenai thinks there may still be problematic air assets enroute, wants to know if we can hold our positions for a little while to flush them out.”
“Let me check with my team.” I click back onto our sequence, “we may be able to get salvage here if we can convince the dropships that the air support’s gone, think we can hold or should we give it up and move?”
“It does seem like it was way too easy,” Sonia offers.
“Not so sure,” Mike counters, “they had almost no experience in ‘Mech combat, I think the only reason the Kells had to fall back was they lost their commander and two heavies before the engagement could even begin. I bet someone like Brian thought it must be a rout and ordered them to retreat to preserve his remaining BattleMechs.”
“Well, that might make the most sense,” Sonia reflects. “Your call, Pad.”
I wonder.
It’s been an hour, and all we’ve seen were another pair of interceptors that Duncan and I took out quickly. We’re all on the Kell’s sequence, but communication has been sparse as we watch for threats.
“Is Captain Svenson’s ‘Mech destroyed?” I ask, not at all sure where the thought came from.
“No,” their lead replies, “the blast swept two pilots away and we couldn’t find them before we were ordered to move.”
“So they might still be alive?”
“Yes, Sir, providing the enemy hasn’t gotten to them first.”
I have an unexpected image flash through my awareness of Colonel Ts’eng running her Men Shen past the Timberwolf and anticipating returning to claim it as her own.
“Ok, where were you when you got hit?”
After a moment of silence, Alexis says, “coordinates received.”
As I flick up the map, I ask, “Duncan, can you maintain at least a hundred with that ‘Mech?”
“Hell yes.”
Silence.
“Um... Yes, Sir.”
“Thanks. Ok, unless someone objects, we’re going to run to their last known position and see if the pilots are around and still alive.”
“You have most of our fast lasers, sure we can risk it?” that’s Mike.
“Sonia can tell you that the Captain saved us from a little Hollander a while back, I think I owe him this much. Besides, if the ‘Mechs aren’t damaged, I bet the Kells would be thankful to be able to recover them, too.”
“You’re right there, Sir,” their lead chimes in.
“Fair enough.”
Duncan’s staying on my right flank about forty meters out as we speed down the Daulles road towards Prontsi. Actually, I guess we aren’t technically on the road, I’m on the east margin and he on the west to keep a bit of separation.
I check our position again, four more klicks and we head east. It isn’t the route they took in flight, but it offers a speed advantage in our approach and a hint more chance of achieving surprise if there’s someone there looking for the Kells to come back the way they left.
Just ahead, a gravel road makes a convenient intersection, and we turn left onto it. I know this road well, the school bus has carried me here for years. In the light amp green, my old school’s buildings appear oddly familiar, as if they belonged in someone else’s memory. I wonder, as I speed by, about Timmy and John, Rebecca and Sharon, Marcy, Ed, and a string of other random faces who were my friends, sweets, and even ‘enemies’. Enemies, how the meaning of that word has changed in a year.
“CTC, choppers.”
I see them, a loose line begins to show, several klicks out. They are indeed facing north, not expecting us here.
It does seem like the landscape is changed, somehow. I can’t quite put a finger on what it is, but something’s wrong. Still, I swing the controller to take us south so we can move in safely behind them. It takes stepping off the road for the problem to register... a lot of trees are blown down, all facing away from Prontsi.
It does seem brighter out, I wonder if dawn’s coming. I click the light amplifier off for a moment and realize why it seems lighter: the horizon south of me is aflame.
Throttle to zero.
From here I can’t tell if it’s a massive firestorm or just thousands or tens of thousands of individual fires, but the effect is the same: a sickly orange glow that silhouettes the naked trees still standing near at hand.
How could they have done this? What did it prove to anyone? For that matter, why would someone like Colonel Ts’eng have a weapon like that at her disposal? Or is this something bigger than what it appears...
Light amp back on and throttle up. The choppers haven’t moved, their hovering attentions seem fixed. I swing far enough south to keep them in the ECM coverage, then back to heading east. We have to move a bit slower now, the trees lay across our path instead of parallel.
“Sir, I have ‘Mech mass signatures on powered down units, 400 meters on 80 degrees.”
“Thank you, Alexis.”
Out in the open I can see the towering figure of a Timberwolf with a Thanatos along side.
“CTC, stationary medium weight, 1200 meters at 5. Two more with it, a bit lighter.”
I can’t see anything on the horizon...
A distant pair of lightning bolts flash, just missing me. Who or whatever, they know we’re here, throttle up, headed north, the choppers are turning.
“Take the choppers first, they go quickly...”
The ground units must be armor, there’s nothing visible otherwise... yes, there’s the Myrmidon that must have fired at me, I’m clear of the tree trunks and dart left and then right, the choppers are closing to firing range, I slice one in half and a second just explodes from a hit. To my left, four die in rapid succession as Duncan opens up.
The Myrmidon fires again, but he isn’t tracking my dance very well, the shots are very wide. Not sure what the ground units with it are, they don’t seem to be doing anything. As a matter of fact, none of the ground units are even moving. There appears to be a low building near them, I sprint that way and the Myrmidon dies before he can take another shot. Running hot, but the remaining choppers are gone before they could make trouble.
“Well done, Duncan.”
“Thanks.” A moment later, he adds, “Sir.”
There are lights on in the building, now there’s a sudden flurry of human shapes running out towards the remaining armor. I cut one vehicle up and Duncan gets the other. In the eerie green, I see the figures stop and look towards our approaching ‘Mechs.
“Alexis, external speaker on, please.”
“Done, Sir.”
“Hold you positions or we’ll have to make you.”
A man steps to the overly bright doorway, I can see he has pulled what appears to be a wounded man with him.
“Let us go and we won’t harm the prisoners!”
“Drop you weapons and you may leave. Harm anyone and I will step on you myself.”
“Agreed.” He drops what appears to be a sidearm and lets go of the sagging man to bolt for some distant place. The others scatter too as the figure in the doorway collapses.
“Duncan, they had prisoners. Please check on them and report, I’ll cover you from here.”
“Got it.”
The Wolfie kneels and I can see Duncan’s form climbing down. He clears his sidearm and cautiously approaches the fallen figure. In the doorway he darts, returning just a moment later.
“We need medics! Captain’s here and Lieutenant Flynn too!”
I key up on the Kell’s sequence, “Captain Svenson and Lieutenant Flynn secured but badly wounded. Call in medevac on my position. We also have what look like undamaged Kell ‘Mechs that could use pilots if you have them, that or recovery could clean the field here and there.
“Copy, Sir, calling them now.”
The Magister bay is bustling, I think the Kell Hounds will consider this a successful mission, especially since they actually wound up losing nothing, ‘Mechs or pilots. Both Captain Svenson and the Lieutenant will make it through, though the latter is still in intensive care. Colonel Ts’eng never paid them, but we recovered seven repairable mechs... the Raven, regrettably, is slagged and useless. They’ve agreed to buy two of our kills, I’m keeping the Men Shen in case we ever add another pilot... it looks like a good configuration and an all ECM lance is nothing to sneeze at.
“Commander Carns, er, McSean, good to see you!” Brian Kell is striding up as he speaks.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, why do you call me “Commander”?
“Well, there’s a very simple military reason: it’s a lot more understandable to a well trained MechWarrior to tell him he needs to take the orders of a Commander than the orders of a potentially unskilled civilian. How you refer to each other within your unit is your business, maintaining discipline in units that fight together under my authority is mine. You’ll agree that our units followed your orders in the field. Based on my experience I can say without question that my referring to you as a “commander” in my orders made that a much smoother reality. It’ll be even more important as word of your age gets around. Rank brings a certain respect in any military unit, even when the higher rank is held by a younger person.”
“Well, ok, Sir. It just seems odd, I’ve never commanded anything before.”
“Never?”
“Well...” I think back over the last month, maybe I’m not seeing it quite the same way.
He continues, “you aren’t giving yourself credit. I am. You just proved the faith that the Captain has in you, and saved him in the bargain. That was a rout and you turned it around to make it a value to hire you.”
“What happens now?”
“Ah, I was just coming to talk with you about that. We’re going to have to leave the planet in short order. If you want to go back, you need to leave now.”
“Why? Ts’eng is dead. I thought you’d want to stick around now.”
“Colonel O’Neill told us about your suspicions of a Capellan connection. It made a certain amount of sense, so I told our long range specialist to scan for anything unusual that might indicate a fleet jumping in. Two hours ago, they found three large jumpships and an unrecognized naval vessel already inbound from an unexpected direction. They’re still about a day’s journey out, but we don’t have a fraction the firepower on this vessel that one of them does, much less their combined strength. Our jump point is almost two days out in a different direction; if we wait too long and they decide they don’t want us getting away... well, we need to stay far enough ahead of them to keep out of missile range or we won’t be safe.”
“So I go back to defend my planet or go with you when you leave.”
“They’re coming in force, Padraig. Until the planet is subdued, I would suspect they’ll have sixty to eighty mechs onworld with plenty of transport to move them where-ever any time they want.”
I remember the fire glow from Prontsi. There’s nothing left here for me.
“No, I’m cut loose. Let me tell Mike, though; he might want to go back to lead resistance again.”
“Ok, but hurry.”
Michael O’Neill has no indication on his face that he’s heard what I’ve just said. Chief Matsushima is looking directly at me, however, and that is whom Mike had been speaking with. The Chief looks at him, no emotion on his face either. Both men start to nod, either they’re telepaths or they know each other so well they’re communicating without words.
“If you’ll take the Chief with you, then I’ll go back.”
It seems a bizarre request, “What?”
“If I can be with my MechWarriors, I should be. But I promised this good man,” he indicates the Chief, “that I would try to get him home, or at least close enough that he could take his daughter with his own resources.”
“It was a promise honorably made, Colonel.” Chief Matsushima replies, “but my place is repairing your equipment, and we both know you’ll need me.”
“You’ve sacrificed a lot for me over the years, old friend. Now it’s my turn to sacrifice for you. Please do this.”
I feel kind of left out until the Chief turns to me and asks, “perhaps I would be acceptable to serve you and your unit?”
“Acceptable? No, you would be welcome as the master crewman you are, Chief.” I offer a slight bow with these words.
He looks back at Mike, “yes, I would like to see my home again. I thank you for this blessing.”
“I’m going back, Pad, if you can swing it.”
“No problem, but I’ll need to keep the ‘Mech.”
“Fair enough. I’ll check with Shannon, but if you’ll have them, I’d personally like them to have the chance to get away.”
“Sure, you know me, I can use all the help I can get.”
He smiles and good naturedly shakes his head, “It was good fighting with you, Padraig, even if only for a night.”
“You too, Michael. Take care of Kathleen and the rest for me, ok?”
“Knowing our folk, they’ll take care of me, as is more likely. We’ll be fine, lot more to the Bays that ever you or the traitor ever knew.”
“Yup, thought as much. Good place to call home, that.”
“Aye, that it is, lad, that it is.”
We shake and I have to admit that his respect feels really good.
Finally dried off after a well deserved hot shower, I’m almost into the tiny bed my cabin centers around...
“Commander McSean to Erin dock please.”
I want to break that speaker, my adrenaline from the battle has worn off and I’m really tired. Really, really tired. Picking up the commlink that Mister Kell had issued to me, I key in a number for the control room.
“This is Padraig, what’s up?”
“Commander McSean?”
“Yes, can it wait?”
“You have company arriving on the Erin, I was asked to have you there to meet them.”
What? I wonder if Mike changed his mind. No rest for the weary, I guess. “Let me throw some clothes on and I’ll be right down.” I’m sure my lack of enthusiasm would ring through my words, but I don’t have enough energy to ring anything.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Paddy!”
The last voice I ever expected to hear again greets me as the deck door opens and a blur of moving child launches himself missile-like at me. I have no time to think before Bobby hits me about chest high, and I go down, bowled over by the sheer exuberance of his welcome. Well, I am tired, too, that may have something to do with it. I look past the child’s head and see Joe’s huge grin. Beside him stand Timonorthus and his son... um, well, I’ve forgotten his name but it’ll come to me.
“Ah tohl yew hayed raymehmbr Paddy.”
Tim nods, “I knew he would too.”
“Yewr nahd gohwin widaht uhzz, Paddy.” Bobby’s beaming face has the look of asserting something, but I’ve been away from him long enough that I have no clue what and my weary brain surrenders on the task before it really starts.
I look at Tim and he answers my unasked question, “when we heard all the stuff going on last week, everyone wanted to go to the Bays. Fortunately, I had the resources to get us and your other two families out, and this guy hired on as our protector.”
Bobby nods and proudly says, “Paw wuz ah prodeckdor tew!”
Joe still hasn’t said anything since his initial comment, it seems an odd situation.
Tim picks back up, “we missed your departure by a few hours, but I didn’t think much of it. Then rumor of the Colonel’s return and news of the approaching Capellans swept through the garrison... well, there were also whispers about what happened at Prontsi. The other families didn’t want to leave, but I don’t want to stay, not when they might do the same thing again. After providing them with resources, I booked passage out and we were ready to go when the Erin touched down. After all, I did say anytime anywhere. It seems Joe here felt it was time to head out too. Oh, and if you say its ok, we get our money back, because you had already chartered the flight...”
Uncharacteristically, Joe just nods. I wonder if he’s tired or if something else weighs on him. There’s a distance in his look, perhaps a shadow of sadness.
I think Bobby notices his da’s melancholy, he goes back to him and takes his hand. Joe manages an anemic smile for a moment, but it fades.
“Um, sure, we can sort that out in the morning. Well, I think Sonia’s off to bed, along with my crew chief and admin. We can do intro’s in the morning, but I’m about beat. Lets get the lot of you into quarters and we’ll visit more in the morning.”
“Guud ahdayah, Paddy.” Joe has finally spoken, but while he’s nodding what I think is agreement, I have absolutely no idea what he’s said, other than my name at the end of it.
The viewports on the observation deck have only stars as far as the eye can see. There’s no sign of our panet, now eight hours astern as we head for our jump point. The lights are dimmed, but the stars actually give enough light to see if only a little. I can’t see any constellations I know, hmmm... actually, I guess I can see the Great Goose, her beak pointing north... well, I guess “north” has no meaning now. There’s some amount of irony in the thought that I always thought she was pointing at the Northern Twins, but now she shows she’s always been pointing me further... to the stars.
The room is all but empty. Only the Chief’s daughter is here, staring out a portal with an face that seems sad. I wish I had something to say, but I don’t want to invade her privacy.
Pinpoints in the distant night, cast with reds, yellows, blues and greens. The colors were never visible before and I notice that they don’t twinkle at all. In fact, there are so many, its like a glowing sand on a riverbank. I wonder for a moment what it would be like to sit in space and look around on all sides and feel like I’m just in the middle of all this splendor. Looking at the stars had always been an act of looking up, into the sky; now it’s just a matter of opening my eyes.
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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Country: USA
| Posts: 241 |
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CMOpatrick
frequent visitor
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Posted - Jul 12 2009 : 16:22:54
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Chapter 23 - In the Shadow of a Wolf
The Goose is gone.
We've made our first jump and now even the heavens around me are strange. I feel odd, challenged by an unrelenting suspicion that I have done the wrong thing... maybe I should have stayed, made a difference at home.
I’m guessing we are at some way point chosen because it isn’t near anything. There seems to be no local star or planets, or anything else but an encompassing spatter of a billion trillion glowing pinpoint lights.
The Magister's observation deck is a disorienting experience now, nothing even remotely reminds me of what I'm looking for when I look out at stars. All I see is a distant light show, it could be painted on the port windows with some planetarium program for all it matters. Sure, it's pretty, but it's not only not home, it never will be again.
Again, I sit alone with my thoughts. Happens a lot lately. Between Tim and Mister Matsushima, there's nothing to do on my 'Mech or any of my other three.
Boredom leaves me with no defense from the empty galaxy.
Add to that the needs of running my own mercenary unit and I am so far in over my head that even if there were sunlight here, it would never get through to my depths. For example, Joe was unable to bring up his Longbow on the Erin, seems that with the last lot of salvage the Kell Hounds got, there's no longer anything like enough space on board the Magister for another light 'Mech, much less an assault. I need to arrange something for him, but for now I'm just not focused enough.
Second guessing myself has become something of an obsession and there’s no limit to the time I can devote to it. It really doesn’t matter where I am, I'm depressed without anything to promote the feeling; Bobby can be giggling at some silly game and I still get bummed.
I can’t go outside and a quicksand of chills catches me unaware. I don’t think it’s claustrophobia, more like discovering that I’m locked in my algebra class with no expectation of being allowed out for at least several weeks. Surely this must never effect the experienced travelers, but I unexpectedly discover that there’s a depressing quality about not being able to feel an evening breeze or hear birds.
That’s not all that rushes me as I sit in the semi-sterile cabin; I’m hit by a wave of feeling sorry for myself. I miss Zuzan and Father Murphy, da and Kathleen. I miss running in a field, fishing, hunting, and riding horses. Will I ever get to lie on my back in warm sunshine, hat pulled over my face to my nose, just smelling fresh cut grass on an afternoon breeze? I even miss the chores I hated, like mucking out the stalls and mowing the lawn. Why couldn’t I know in advance that all those things would become precious when I no longer had them?
The bed is hard in places and careworn in others, sleep seems repulsed by the discomfort, eluding my exhausted body for what must be an epoch...
A hint of haze hovers over the quiet lake surface. The night star, Lonitar, casts its distant glow over the mirrored waters. Soon Miran, first of the day stars, will reach the horizon with a blaze of intense color.
I have not slept… perhaps the presence of my Khan is a factor, but there is more. Why has he come to see me? I had served on his staff while in the Eleventh, but I was not an advisor or even a senior officer; ranking staff had even joked occasionally that I was more incisive than decisive. Now, my little cabin in the woods seems an unfitting place for the Wolf Khan.
Why the mystery? Ordered home for "rest" and only last evening suddenly discovering an aerodyne on approach for my pad with Khan Ward at the controls!
The first hints of fiery red explode onto the snows gracing the granite shoulders of Tanalahi and her reflection on the mirroring lake glows with promise... it seems at some level that I am seeing my beloved home through eyes that will know it no more.
"Take beauty when you find it, for a Wolf warrior must have more in his life than his battles. Without valuing beauty, you fight as the enemy does, with only self-interest or blind purpose to guide,” my senior Loremaster had once said. “In balance between the horrors of war and the value of what is fought for, we can keep from destroying what we seek to defend. Without balance, there can be no honor." Even though he turned out to be a Warden, he was right about that truth.
I have seen much beauty, but have never found a place like this where I remember what is best about our Great Hope. Deep in my heart, I know that my Kahn is here to have me leave it, maybe forever. I have spent the night sitting on my porch looking at the darkened greens and whites. The air is chill on my face, but the munsmuir blanket wrapped tightly around the rest of me is thick and its warmth scoffs at the night’s cold.
From the tall conifer stands up-mountain from me, trill birds begin their morning calls. The ringing notes, clear and bright, etch in my mind like a future memory, a sound of home to be recalled when I am far away.
Behind me, the rustic door creaks open.
In respect I start to rise, but Khan Ward simply says, "Stay, Commander."
Miran crests the ridge and floods our waiting eyes with her warm rays. They are too bright to long endure, but for this first moment I sense that we both look towards the star, and beyond her to the unknown.
"Patrick, I have a something that I want you to do..."
I waken in the chill stateroom, unsure if the dream has ended or just begun. It’s as if I know well those places I’ve never seen. Yet I have a sense not of wistfulness, but unease, as if the reason I’ve dreamt this place and time is not what it would appear.
In the quiet, I can hear some powerful equipment whisper its vibrations through the walls from some distant quarter. There’s not much else, and I find myself suddenly wishing to hear Sabby snoring. I miss her, back home I would probably be lying in bed coming up with some ridiculous idea about how to scare her awake, knowing that more than half the time she would catch me sneaking up on her. There was a lot of joy with that dog, I don’t think I’ve really played in the months since I lost her.
The floor is carpeted, but only barely; it’s a dark blue to hide dirt and the padding is worn thin enough that standing on it is little better than putting my feet on the cold deck plates below. Cheap flourescene rods seem woven into the walls, leaving the room with an even but unnaturally off color light that drains just a hint of warmth from my reflection above the sink.
Haven’t really looked at myself for a long time, da used to say you have to look yourself in the eye when you use a mirror; if you can’t face yourself, you need to fix why before you do anything else. Now, all I see is a boy encompassed by a weariness that... wait... is that a moustache?
Jix! Ok, it’s a bit whispy, but it’s sort of there, like a light shadow across my upper lip. Slabbed indeed! Maybe I should get a razor... hmmm, what if I cut myself shaving it? I wonder if Sonia’s noticed... does she like men with moustaches? She’s only four years older than me...
Hmmm... reality check: Sonia’s mature and probably not only unimpressed with me as a man, but likely figures I’m not far removed from robbing the cradle.
I’m suddenly drawn back to my own eyes.
There’s something there, beyond the weariness, that I find myself being just a hint proud of... that experienced look that says, “I have been through a lot, I will face whatever comes when it gets here.” It’s a look da had at times. I really miss him. Have I ever grieved for him? What does it mean to “grieve” for someone, anyway?
“That's enough, Alexis.”
We have been drilling for several hours, but I just can't focus. I let the stick go and Sharks neurohelm projection fades as the sim ends and my visor slides quietly clear.
The only solace I find is working on my skills, I never again want others to look down on my fallen mech or comment that I left the hard work to them. No one else will drill with me now because I seem driven to keep at it; even Sonia has been telling me I need to give it a rest.
The dream comes to mind again, “Alexis, would you know if there is a real place called...” what was that name... “um, Tanalahi?”
Her tone seems odd even though the answer is straight-forward, “Yes, Sir.”
“Would you tell me where it is?”
“It is a mountain.” She is being unusually reticent about what information she is offering.
“Is where that mountain's located some kind of secret?”
“It is in Wolf space, Sir. Did you dream something about it, Padraig?” She is changing the subject, but so subtly that I might not have noticed once.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”
“What did you dream, Sir?”
“Hey, I'm not offering any more details with you just handing out a pittance.”
“Patrick Carn's had a home of sorts on a planet in Wolf space. I can not reveal where that is. The cabin was close to a mountain named Tanalahi. It was the last place he had to relax, and it was there that Khan Ward gave him the mission.”
“I think that must have been what the dream was about.”
“That is twice you have dreamed of things from Patrick's life. Have you had other dreams like these?”
“No. Why?”
She does not answer for a minute, then seems reluctant to say what comes out, “because I can not allow Wolf space to be compromised, and I'm not sure if you understand that.”
“So would you kill me and destroy 'Patrick's hope' as you call it?”
“I do not know.”
I'm stunned.
“Part of my core programming is to protect sensitive knowledge of Wolf space should my 'Mech be captured or taken as salvage.”
“But I'm not your mech.”
“No, but I am responsible for you being where you are. I was the one that pushed you in the direction of completing the mission, instead of simply self-destructing when your father told me of the Blakist approach. Even more basically, I was the one responsible for not self-destructing when Padraig died. I was the one who wanted his pain and suffering to have a chance to mean something.”
It's been a while since Alexis surprised me with her nearly human emotions, but now she's making up for lost time. It had never occurred to me to question why she was waiting in that bay the day da introduced me to her and Rocker, these revelations cast a new light on what has happened.
She continues, “I had no orders to continue if Patrick died, if anything, I had orders to self-destruct should security be breached.”
“You loved him, didn't you?”
“Love?” She is puzzled and silent.
I wonder where my question came from, it is so obviously wrong to think a computer would have anything approaching affection.
“I admired Patrick. Respected him. Worked towards a common goal with him. Was concerned about him when he was in danger. Perhaps even enjoyed our time together...”
Silence.
Admire, respect, work together, concern, joy. Other than sex, isn't that what a loving relationship is? She sounds more like his wife than his AI.
She seems to be thinking along the same lines. “Based on some definitions,” she finally resumes quietly, “yes, I did and still do 'love' Patrick Carns.”
“Wow.”
“By those same definitions, though, I also 'love' you now.”
The bombshell goes off and my mind seems entirely aired out; a whispered “wow,” is all I can come up with.
“Yes, Padraig,” she almost whispers too, “I have no better comment than 'wow'.”
Scanning through music archives for the last thousand years or so, trying to find something that suits my mood that Patrick Carns hadn't liked first. It seems like I'm defying all statistical laws, granpa liked so darn much.
The drama of discovering that Alexis' emotions run deeper than anyone ever knew or intended has left a distant unease. I'm not sure why I'm now so driven to find my own ancient music, but at some level it's a coming of age.
I like this one: “Off the Ledge” by the twenty-forth century group Midnight Jump really works for me... (sigh) no joy, Alexis has a long collection of them too.
Bored. I listen to easily the ten thousandth snippet and tap the screen for the next. On and on. I must be going bats... this is such tedium that... wait, I like that one.
SUCCESS!!! Alexis has nothing for a twentieth century group called the “Alan Parson's Project” and I like what I'm hearing so far! Checking the archive connection, there are several individual tunes and a few collections called “albums”... I listen and am connected with what sounds like a distant relative of the modern 'Lectroid scene; maybe it all started back then.
I seem hooked by this one called “Hawkeye”... wonder what “only what's on the menu” means. Great mech walking tune!
Now it's something called “Mammagamma,” the consummate hunting tune... I need to get all of this over to Alexis' memory and try them in the drills... I am SO psyched!
“The cost of customizing a 'Mech is much greater than just changing the rails and couplings to match salvaged gear,” the Chief is explaining to Tim and myself, “no, in the field having it so different means you have to work harder to repair the damages. You can not just grab typical parts from the local arms vendor and expect them to work. Instead, you must have your own stockpile or you are crippled; this is the cost most forget. Consider the difficulty you will have in replacing just your Sha Yu's heat-sinks now that you have swapped the standard Capellan doubles with less bulky but rarer clan doubles. How many places will have them handy and what will they charge you for them? If you plan to keep that 'Mech long term for your own personal rig, it may make sense, but as you equip and maintain a whole mercenary unit worth of 'Mechs, this will become both a logistical and financial liability.”
What he says makes sense. “Well, what would you propose for the remaining 'Mechs?”
“Word within the crew is that we have no room for more stock; after we finish avoiding Capellan space, they expect that we will execute jumps straight to Solaris and it's 'Mech markets. It will be a brilliant opportunity for you to choose machines that work better for you as a unit rather than trying to modify all your current 'Mechs to make them fit. You can also sell whatever of your chassis you determine you do not need, probably for a reasonable profit.”
Tim nods, “sure be better than adding all that clan wiring to everything else, boss.”
I have to agree, “ok, I trust your judgment, Sir. Cancel any upgrades on all but Sonia's Mad Dog and we'll see what Solaris has in store for us.”
“I believe you will be happy with this choice, Sir.”
“Any idea when we will be on Solaris?”
“I do not know.”
Solaris 7: for over a century, the very name has conjured images of towering 'Mechs in combat, megatons of galloping vehicles embracing the gladiatorial extremes in violent confrontations. Even on our WoB clouded world, there had always been rumors of the arenas where behemoths of every shape and description hurl ordinance and themselves at each other until only one remains standing. Part of me is almost afraid to go there, another is thrilled at the chance to perhaps stand as others have before me and hear the roar of the crowd...
“Is that all for this session, Sir?” Alexis queries.
I have been in the chair for hours on end, I’m not even sure how many. One sim after another, drills and drills, targets and more targets, shot after shot... keeping busy to evade the gnawing hunger in my heart that demands something I can no longer give. The only positive constant is my new music selection, I've found seven tunes that establish such strong groves that I can't help but smile when I start each and I've heard them over and over. Oddly, this new ancient music touches part of me and I feel like my own man, not just a hapless child caught in the shadow of a Wolf.
“Padraig? Are you alright, Sir?”
“Just tired, Alexis.”
“That would be normal, you have been on the command couch for twenty-nine hours straight.”
“How long!?”
“At the tone, twenty-nine hours, seven minutes, forty-five seconds,” there is a brief tone, then she continues, “I have never seen you so dedicated. Patrick would occasionally drill this long, but it was rare and never without a specific target to train for. You have seemed distracted, but were performing well. I chose not to interrupt to suggest alternatives.”
“The Magister will be jumping to Solaris 7 soon. The Kell Hounds will be selling some of the 'Mechs on board and I will probably change the overall composition of our lance there too.”
Silence, I almost sense she is waiting for me to say something more.
More silence.
“Did anyone come by while I was practicing?”
“Neg, Sir.”
In the cockpit for over a day and no one came by to see me. I've noticed how the rest of the Wild Geese seem quite at home with each other, but I feel like the odd man out. Imaginary companions in the simulators are my best friends right now. I'm alone with my adrenaline and my ’Mech... my AI replacing the sensations of the real world with constant action and excitement very like a bigger than life computer game.
Alexis has not moved on, “I have told you about Patrick and Solaris, are you sure it is wise to go down?”
“Certain it's wise? No, Ma'am. Certain I must do it? Yes, Alexis. I may have walked in Granpa's shoes a lot in the last year, but I'm discovering that I need to be myself and learn something new.”
“It might be a needlessly dangerous lesson.”
“Yes, it may be a gamble, but even if I do compete in a match, I will stand on my own and not ride in his wake.”
“As you wish, Padraig.”
The galley is entirely empty of others and mostly quiet. My steak sizzles and I remember Sonia making one for me not that long ago.
What is it with memories that makes them hurt so? I miss da. I miss Sabby. I miss what should have been my life. I feel like there should be someone to blame, like it isn't fair... the thought only barely crosses my mind before it's being chased by memories of Prontsi, both granpa's and mine. Was it fair for those in Prontsi who had nothing to do with the Loyalists to die in a nuclear blast?
I flip the steak over and smear it with a paste of garlic, cumin, and my own “home-made” bloodpepper-heart extract.
Was it fair for Father Murphy to be gunned down in such a place of refuge? Was it fair that...
WOW! Some of my spicy paste has gotten unnoticed onto a super-hot pan surface and is now producing copious amounts of an eye-burning smoke that has me momentarily blinded. I start crying uncontrollably. The steak continues to sizzle and long training barbequing with my da takes over: I turn the heat off so I can suffer safely.
An alarm goes off somewhere near at hand, but I'm still in my own private darkness and can't see what is giving the offense or why.
I hear a door burst open, followed quickly by, “What in the hells are you doing?!”
“AHHHH, that HURTS!”
It sounds like at least three people are coughing, two uncontrollably.
“Damn-it man, what are you cooking, demon steaks?”
“Get the med tech down here!”
“I've been GASSED!”
Another voice in agony, now another person hacking as their throat gets what must seem the chemical equivalent of a blow-torch.
“My eyes are on fire!”
“AHHHHHH! Make it STOP!”
“What've you done?!”
None of the voices seem rather happy with the situation, but then again, few folks like chemically hot food like I do, and none seem to have ever had the consequences of it smoking.
“Now THAT'S what I call SPICY!”
Well, correction... if that person can take it, maybe I'm not quite so alone.
“Shut up Warren, just because you like to suck on dropship exhaust...”
“Bite me, momma's boy!”
The latter voice is getting closer, “you OK there Commander?”
“Just got some smoke in my eyes, it'll be ok in a couple minutes.”
“WHAT is going on here? Warren, did you forget the fan again?”
“Not me this time, Sir,” the voice that seems to belong to my spice loving friend responds. “It's the new merc commander that's done this one, but I bet he doesn't forget again.”
I lick my wounds and lay still in the night... strange concept “night” while tucked in a metal shelled bubble of humanity lost in the depths of the perpetually inky distances of space.
I'm hungry, never got to eat my steak... I suspect it was marked “hazmat” and dumped out an airlock. Further, I've now lost all galley privileges; if I so much as touch a cooking utensil in there I've been threatened with all kinds of painful consequences and costly repercussions.
Sigh... they don't understand how trapped I feel.
The door chimes.
I really don't want to see anyone right now.
It chimes again.
Probably some other officer wanting to weigh in on how I'm never to cook again on this ship or anywhere in civilized space.
Once more, the door indicates a visitor.
“Open,” is all I finally can manage, disgust mingled with frustration.
“Though you were in here.”
Hmmm, I know that voice and look up to see Warren checking both ways out in the hall before stepping in. He seems to be holding something carefully behind his back.
“Did they let you eat your steak?”
“No,” my annoyance must be obvious because it elicits a grin.
“Bet you missed chow too.”
“Yes, thank you so much for reminding me. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?”
“Well, you know your classic ancient movies... Princess Bride, right?”
“Well, we did it as a play in high school, but yes, I think it was from some old holovid.”
He laughs heartily, “who did you play?”
“Why, Miracle Max, of course.”
“Slabbed!” He looks around like he expects to get caught doing something he shouldn't and holds out the nastiest looking... well, not sure what it is. If I were guessing, it would be a blenderized cross between rust, yellow paint, and horse dung molded to look like a chocolate bar.
“Yes?” is all I can muster while eying the material with the same anticipation I might have for a plate of week-old roadkill.
“My secret recipe: Kerensky pepper hearts, Zovan Fire flowers, and chocolate.”
“And this is...?”
“Food, moron. If you like hot, I guarantee you'll love this.”
I'm torn between taking it for the experience and wanting to retch at the very thought.
Seems he's had this reaction before, “of course, if all that stuff in the kitchen was just an accident today and you're just another wuss who really can't stand hot stuff...”
I sense I will regret my decision, but I take the offered “food” bar, break off a piece and stick it in my mouth. Somewhere between instantly and the end of the first second, I feel the hiccups begin and my ears start to burn... and I can feel my face twist into that grin that speaks louder than any words, “this is HOT!”
“Oh, yeah!”
“See, not as bad as it looks, eh?”
I'm already chewing on a second piece as tears cascade down my cheeks. All I can do is nod.
“Let's swap stories and recipes some time, ok Commander?”
“Sure thing, Warren,” I manage to gasp out.
He rises and is out the door as quickly as he came. I, however remain chewing the piece until all is gone and the endorphins flood my system. While my lips and mouth are now numb, my headache and leg pains are starting to diminish too. I wish there could be some spicy food that would do the same for my heart.
There's a hint of music coming from our common room down the hall, it reminds me of the ancient Irish music in Alexis' archives. I don't recognize the tune, but curiosity moves me towards it anyway. Louder it gets, now I hear a voice singing along. Someone laughs. I push the swinging door open and find the O'Days, Miss Matsushima, and several folks from the Kell Hounds involved in playing what must be acoustic musical instruments with great spirit.
It isn't a recording, it's live.
Rory is holding an bizarrely shaped contraption at one end with his left hand and the other, well, it's tucked under his chin; his right hand, meanwhile, seems to be vigorously moving an odd wood-like bar back and forth, almost like a handsaw. Shannon is holding an equally odd looking thing between her hands, it consists of a bellows between two small boards; she moves her hands together and apart, all the while moving her fingers as if pressing keys on a keyboard.
Nanako starts a new verse, she has a lovely voice and is singing words that I know not in a haunting style that manages to draw me in anyway. While I listen, I notice her mouth, then her eyes, then... well, I really hadn't noticed before, but she is actually quite attractively feminine.
Of the remaining players, one has something that looks like a larger relative of Father Murphy's whistle, a second has what must be a drum of some sort, and the last is playing some kind of instrument with what looks like a bag under one arm, a bellows under the other, rods laying across his lap and an odd stick in his hands that seem constantly in motion.
Rory looks up and abruptly stops, the others do likewise in rapid succession.
Shannon breaks the silence, “Kathleen said you'd be wanting a session to play with and these fine folk are the match of any we've know back home.”
“Would you care to join us, Commander?” one of the Kell Hounds asks.
“Please, call me Paddy.” Then remembering Mister Kell's words I add, “at least when we are here and off duty.”
“Fine, Paddy it is then,” another chimes in. “Grab a chair and join in.”
“I'm not a musician, at least not yet,” I offer. “I just got my first whistle as a gift a few weeks ago and I've never actually played it yet. But I love what all of you were doing, please continue.”
Rory shakes his head, “No, first we need to be introduced and then you need to go get your whistle... we'll help you out a bit. You can't learn by not playing.”
I shrug and he continues, “do you know what any of these instruments are?”
“Um, well... no, just that he,” I point at the lad with the whistle, “is playing a whistle too, though it looks to be a great bit larger than mine.”
“Very good. Joel?”
The man with the whistle stands, “my name is Joel Silverberg, and yes, this is a low 'A' whistle.”
Rory picks up, “I think you remember me, I'm Rory O'Day and this is the family fiddle; it's been with the O'Days at least since the year our clan moved to the Bays, nearly 300 years ago.”
Shannon follows, “I know you remember me, I'm Shannon (Oday, of course), and this,” she holds up her instrument, “is called a concertina.”
The second of the Kell Hounds picks up, “I'm a Paddy too, Padraig Michael Flynn, and these are a full set of Uilleann pipes made in Terran Ireland about 1400 years ago. Well, the bags and such have been replaced, along with the reeds, but the pipes remain the same.”
“And I'm Liam Kell,” the last one offered, “and this is an ancient frame drum called a bodhran.”
My eyes drift back to Miss Matsushima and she smiles shyly, “I'm Nanako and I sing.”
“Yes,” I reply while not realizing that I'm staring, “and you sing incredibly well.”
She blushes and looks down.
“Go get your whistle, boss,” Rory interrupts my attention with a chuckle, “we'll wait.”
We are two jumps further along, and while some things will never change, I feel better. I really can't put a finger on what the change is, but I am not so depressed when I gaze out at the stars.
I think it's the music more than anything else. Almost every night two or more of us get together for what Shannon calls a “true” session, and I seem to have taken to the whistle like a hondon to water. Joel has even taken time to teach me various tricks and how to read “Father Flanagan's Irish Whistle Tutor” to best effect.
I look at the thin silvery metal tube laying in my lap and wonder about it. It is unadorned except for the word “Copeland” on the head, a large “D” on the front of it's lower portion, and “2266” stamped opposite. Joel says it looks ancient, but neither of us can find much more about it. Rory says Father Murphy had it for as long as he could remember. I wonder about the hands that must have played it and the hearts it brought music to. Where it was made or when, Father Colm said it would be a link and now it has become so.
It does seem that the Kell Hounds have a high number of folks with at least tenuous family connections to Terran Ireland. Perhaps the affinity was what brought them to the Bays, perhaps not. For now, I await the evening session and am glad.
The door to the observation lounge whisks open and closed somewhat behind me. For the moment, I suspect someone just walked past it close enough to set off the motion detector that opens it. A throat clears right behind me, I'm startled and jump.
“May I sit with you?”
I look back to see Nanako standing demurely near where I'd been a moment before; I must have jumped pretty distinctly, she is grinning.
“Um, sure, Ma'am,” is the best I can come up with.
She sits beside me and we look out at the universe. I don't know what kind of garment she is wearing, but I've noticed her in them almost everywhere but the sessions; bright, often flowery robes with oddly wide bands of cloth about the waist.
“I see that you come here often, Sir.”
“Please, call me Padraig.”
“OK, Padraig.” There is a kindness in her face that I appreciate. “You usually look sad and I have not wished to disturb your misery.”
Hmmm, guess that is spot on. “I never knew you were watching.”
“I come here for my own memories and griefs, here there is nothing lost to remind me and everything glorious to distract me.”
“Guess I kind of feel that way too.”
“Daifu says I must leave my hurts and losses, he says we will some day make it home.”
“Who says that?”
“Oh, so sorry, my father says that.”
“How long have you been away from home?”
Her eyes sparkle, but her face makes me imagine it is more from anger than from wistfulness. “Only several weeks now, I was born on your world too. I am more at home with you Irish in the Bays than the few wajin from “home” who have visited our dwelling over the years.”
“Did your mother stay behind?”
“Only her bones,” a tear looks ready to escape her eye and I'm immediately sorry I asked, “she died when I was just sixteen.”
Competing thoughts war for my attention: compassion that she too has lost her mum and a realization that she says “sixteen” like it was a very long time ago. Maybe I just misunderstand or maybe the light has been fooling me... or maybe my own wants and desires have let my mind wander, but I had begun to forget that I am so much younger than all but one of my companions. What is it about a pretty girl that can confuse me so much that I loose track of reality?
“Daifu says you have lost your family too.”
My brain comes back to the conversation, fighting with my awareness of how her lips moved when she spoke to get me to answer intelligently.
“Yes,” I finally reply. I note with irritation that she may have interpreted my delay to be from grief and not from noticing her, but if Sonia would think of me as barely more than a child, how must Nanako view me when she now seems even older?
“If you ever want to talk about it, I will listen,” she offers.
She has lovely dark eyes that seem deeper than the skies beyond the viewport. I am at best confused, and can finally only nod. She looks back out at the heavens all about us and I finally do too.
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may there be turf in your fire, food on your table, music in your ears, friends at your side, and the joy of Christ Jesus in your heart... |
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In the Shadow of a Wolf
