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Arcane
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 Posted - Jan 24 2003 : 00:06:47
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With Godsmack and Metallica still ringing in his ears, Aged went for something to really get him in a killing mood. Let's see ... would it be Thunderstruck or Hell's Bells. He always liked the thought of being some poor SOB's personal escort to the underworld so, Hells Bells it was. Maybe he was getting a bit too much into the killing mood...
Aged decided to make a visit to Tac Ops. Maybe Arcane would be down there by now. Aged had always tested Arcane's patience when it came to tactical training. All too often he'd be charging into a fight with Arcane coming over the coms telling him to wait for support. Usually by that time, Aged had reached a kill or be killed situation and Arcane's advice would be too late.
Still, he wanted to improve his driving. In earlier battles, Aged had earned the "honor" of being named "the recycler" by the guys in Mech Reclamation. On balance, Aged was a net positive to the unit having killed more mech than he'd lost. On ocassion he's even led the unit and he had the cockpit recordings to prove it - knowing Festus would never back him up. However, the number of mechs he'd had shot out from under him was frighteningly high and he wanted to lose his debious moniker. But, the OMO were a friendly bunch of guys and usually seemed to be in it for fun, so Aged was feeling like he'd finally found a home where he could fit in without worrying too much about his combat record.
Arriving at Tac Ops, Aged checked the duty roster and saw that a new Tac Ops officer had been assigned to assist Arcane. It seems everybody was CO of something in OMO except for Aged. Then again, criminals were supposed to take orders not give them. Aged's thoughts began to drift again. He knew he had a knack for diplomacy but who'd want a felon pressing the flesh with royalty. That thought, "pressing the flesh", really appealed to Aged - especially if it involved the right flesh. Mmmm, that Candace Liao was a looker. Ooo baby...
But, back to the duty roster...
Aged looked at the name of the new Tac Ops officer - Ginko. Could it be???? Could it be THAT Ginko???? He wanted to find out, but Ginko had signed himself out to Psych Services. (Arcane must be either trying to find Festus again ... or taking a shower.) Replacing the duty roster, Aged was off to Psych Services.
Posted by: Aged
(5/15/01 1:11:13 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - Jan 24 2003 : 00:10:18
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Life aboard a dropship is hectic at best and being so close to battle made the air thick with anticipation. While I couldn't stop thinking about the DATE my commitment to the mission at hand had to come first. All the while my mind would drift back to the DATE and the article and what I could have missed.
I remember seeing that I went over the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. I found that amussing. New York was allowed to annex both falls, this allowed for the inclusion of Canada as the 151st state. Maybe that's why I feel a closeness to Canuks. I don't know, but I still have a loonie from the 2001's and its still only worth 54 cents. I would have to get to the archives and research a bit more. The article didn't mention what happen to the body, but what did happen hmmm.
Posted by: GinkoOMO
(5/15/01 2:38:49 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - Jan 24 2003 : 00:13:46
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OKAY BUTTCRAX NO BLACKMAIL IS ALOWED unless that was armedillar sausage!
hint hint
Posted by: pacemakerOMO (private HPG transmission sent to ButtCrax... the world may never know why)
(5/15/01 4:34:12 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - Jan 24 2003 : 00:16:48
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Pickled didn't thank Festus for letting him out of the chain locker, instead he was thinking of how to teach Festus a lesson as after all, I, Pickled was the conscience of OMO.
For the first day out of the locker Pickled was quiet and spent his time pondering what to do. Eventually Pickled's light bulb flickered! he had a couple of ideas. Firstly he was hungry.
Buttcrax was looking for Pickled to help him out in the galley. Even though Butt thought himself an able cook he really needed all the help he could get. His hotdogs tasted like warm fresh dog droppings and as for the carrot jelly with peanut butter sandwiches that he produced? (Well he just might have just wiped them in his Buttcrax).
Meanwhile when Butcrax couldn't find Pickled, as Pickled was In the galley cooking a curry. Using his own supply of spices that were cleverly hidden inside a set of fake rosary beads. (Pickled was really an atheist although it suited him to make others believe that he wasn't).
After a good feast pickled put his plan into action and retired to the rest room and quietly listed for a response to his deeds.
A little time later Festus went to Arcane's locker to return his wallet.
Ouch F***ing H*ll shouted Fustus as 40,000 volts went up his arm.
Pickled laughed quietly to himself.
He had wired up all lockers to release a harmless high voltage charge including Festus's own locker when detecting the genetic finger print of, guess who?
What am I going to do next Pickled thought to himself. This was obvious as he had found Festus's hidden supply of bottled beer, Pickled was a great believer that we should recycle everything so kept the empty bottles for later.
Posted by: PickledOMO
(5/16/01 8:51:03 am)
Edited by: PickledOMO at: 5/16/01 8:55:37 am
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:18:39
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next frikin' time I'm welding the damn locker shut and leavin' you in there.
Posted by: FestusOMO
(5/16/01 11:25:57 am)
Festus' siggy quote at the time: "Never raise your hand to your children, it leaves your midsection unprotected"---Robert Orben
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:25:49
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After Aged left BackPain in the barracks, Back started thinking of ways to get Aged a little bit o' revenge against Festus. That was the least he could do considering Aged had hooked him up with the doo-dad for his mech. Hmm, Back thought about it for a minute and decided the best revenge for Festus will be unexpected, unavoidable, and damn annoying. After all the ol' coot is pissing people off so often he just takes other peoples attempts to get back at him like a smooth cigar. He just puffs a little bit and enjoys the moment. "Well I can fix that and I won't even have to get near the prick to do it. He'll never know who got 'em!" Says BackPain. Heading down to the master computer, Back checked into a private cube and logged on. Using a back door (Back likes back doors), he hacks into the mission control software package the unit uses to prep for drops. Just alter a little code, find Festus' mech signature, and call up that data file on that old Disney - something vid remake from the 20th century. Do a little cut and paste and...presto. Hell in a mech has been created. "Heheheheh, This'll teach the bastad. He's gonna have a little extra 'packet' downloaded with his drop plans." BackPain continues, "Can't wait to see the look on this guys face as he has to listen to the theme song of Chitti Chitti Bang Bang for 15 hours after his mech takes its first step planet side." . Then, "I'll just tell Aged its taken care of. Best he looks surprised when Festus starts looking for his own revenge. Those guys always think I'm nuts for stickin' my head in those books all the time. Now their gonna see what a little bookwormin' can do for ya." Just then Myopic comes by. "Hey, Back, who the hell you talking to buddy?" BackPain startles so bad he falls off his chair. "Goddammit, Myo, don't do that!" BackPain spits out. "Uh, nothing, nothing, I was just doing my logs." Myopic saw the screen for a second and knew code when he saw it. That was no log book. WTF was he up to? Myopic thinks to himself. Not wanting to let on, Myopic says, "Oh, yeah. Need to do that myself. See ya around." and moves off. BackPain's sure Myopic didn't see anything. That guy couldn't see a Daishi doing a jig in a pumpkin parade. Yeah, that's it. Understanding BackPain's humor has always been a challenge for the other members of the unit.
Posted by: BackPainOMO
(5/16/01 2:25:14 pm)
BackPain's siggy quote at the time: "The transition from the defensive to the offensive is one of the most delicate operations in war." - Napoleon Bonaparte
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:30:36
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On his way to go tell Aged that Festus was all hooked up, BackPain started thinking about who exactly Aged had meant by "turd wrangler" when he asked Back to help out. "When you talkin' 'bout turd wranglers you gotta be talkin' 'bout Festus." Says BP. "Naw, he couldn't meant anyone else, could he?" Well, screw it, Festus had it comin' anyways. Snapper headed, pushy dictator's what he is. "Guess I'll just play it hush, hush for a bit, 'til I talk to Aged." BP mumbles. "May be that nobody needs to know about his little prank on Festus. Hell, he's got so many guys lookin' give him back a little, nobody'll ever notice it was me." Just behind BackPain, Arcane had fallen in step and heard everything BP had mumbled to himself. 'Note to self.' Thinks Arcane. 'Write a memo for distribution restating the rules and regulations regarding hazing, harrassment, and destruction of government property.' Arcane turns off a side corridor and BackPain continues down the passageway toward the galley for some of Pickled's fire hot curry.
Posted by: BackPainOMO
(5/16/01 5:59:15 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:32:18
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Aged had had many opportunities to work on some of the more nefarious government projects in his past and this gave him access to some incredible stuff. In truth, his participation in these projects had been responsible for his being given a choice to join the Armored Calvary. Afterall, who knows what he might have revealed if he'd spent much time with the soap-on-a-rope crowd.
The American government had engaged in secret research of many kinds for years. Beginning early in the 1950's though, it had begun a program in medical research that was particularly odd. Rather than using animal test subjects, they used actual human beings. The test subjects were always people that society wouldn't miss - prisoner, bums and the occassional idiot.
The program had made some amazing breakthroughs but many remained sheltered in secrecy due to the means by which they had been acquired. The sucess rate wasn't high, but the sucesses had been spectacular. One of the first, and one of the few that had been made public had been the polio vacine. "Dr. Salk" had been a shoe salesman in Pittburgh the year before that one came out.
But, after over fifty years, the program had made some impressive strides in cryogenic preservation. Aged had read all the ancient secret research reports on it. The program had had many, many failures. Hundreds of hapless souls had been frozen - never to feel warm or see the light of day again. But, again, these were people that society would never miss.
Then, there was a sucess. A guy from Buffalo, NY had attempted to go over the falls. Unlike others that had constructed their barrels in a way that they might survive, this guy simply climbed into a tin barrel and off he went. Somehow, the body survived - but the brain had been so horribly disfigured that medical science of the day couldn't "save" him.
The cryo boys, on the other hand, had other ideas. Here was a potentially perfect victim, (err, test subject). His body was battered and bruised - so his funeral would be a closed casker affair. And his brain had been bodly damaged - meaning major reconstructive surgery of his brain would be necessary to revive him. He would have little, if any, memory of what had happened to him - assuming medical science could someday develop the ability to do such surgery. Anyways, here was an idiot with a scrabled brain. If he lived, he wouldn't remember - no problem there. If he died, who cares? A perfect subject under the operations of the project.
Turning the corner into the Psych Services ward, Aged noticed a broad shouldered guy on the floor looking at old newspaper clippings.
"Hiya"
Ginko, turned to face him. "Ooo, you startled me."
Aged's skin began to tingle. It WAS him - THE Ginko!! Here onboard the Geriatrica, Aged was staring at a living ghost.
Posted by: Aged
(5/16/01 11:23:09 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:35:13
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Medicare was working on the computer when Festus entered the medical bay with Pickled draped over one shoulder. He moved to the exam table off to the right, and dropped Pickled onto it.
"There ya go Medi, I found him in the anchor Locker again, pissed as a newt. Damned if I know who puts him in there"
Medi looked at the familiar scene and shook his head. Pickled always seemed to get absolutely faced, especially when OMO was heading into an unknown situation.
His drinking binges mirrored how things progressed during a campaign. If things went well, Pickled was a happy drunk, giddy and rubber necked. If things went bad, Pickled went into dark, stormy depressions, and drank tht way too.
"I'll get him hooked up and dried out. I think I will just trank him too, get him some rest before we hit St. Ives"
"Works for me bro," Festus replied as he turned and headed out the door, "I've gotta do some stuff so have fun".
Instead of finding Ginko, Fes decided he had better just head up to TAC-OPS (tactical Operations) and see if any word had arrived from House Liao and Wolfs Dragoons.
TAC-OPS was a secure room. Currently only 4 OMOs had access to this area, Arcane, Myopic, Aged, and Festus himself. Yes,....Festus. Despite his rough nature and coarse appearance, Festus had a keen mind and an ability to get into the mindset of an opponent, and exploit their weaknesses.
OMOs success in the past, and surely in the future came from their unique command structure. Actually their LACK of such. Individuals were recognized for their talents, and the closest thing to leadership was the CABAL.
The CABAL consisted of 3 OMO planners and associated with them was a spokeperson. The 3 planners varied regularly, depending on the talents required at the time.
If an operation required diplomacy and tact, Festus was out and someone like Medicare, Hernia or Polygrip (Poly was currently AWOL, claiming to be doing research on the Planet DISCO) would step up and take his place.
The only constant was Aged. He had always held the post, handling communications, filling in when a member of the CABAL could not be present, and suggesting the appropriate people for the CABAL. While not holding a vote within the CABAL, he still wielded significant influence over its composition from situation to situation.
Currently the CABAL was in negotiations with Liao, hoping to form a mutual support pact so that both sides in the oncoming war would have one border that they did not need to worry about.
The situation in St Ives was grave, and the CABAL had decided on a bold first step involving the seizure of not one, but two planets under House Davion rule. With luck, both planets would fall easily and OMO could consolidate their Borders next to Davion.
If the plan worked, and Davion was sufficiently pressed on other fronts, the CABAL would immediately offer to cease hostilities and press towards the MARIK sphere of influence.
As he entered the 14 digit code into the scanner and submitted to a retinal scan to Enter TAC-OPs, Festus' mind was already turning the plan over and over, thinking of contingencies and options.
"Daggnabbit, a lot depends on the success of our first Drops. If they go well and we roll over the Davion troops, meybe we should just press our advantage,....convince those damnable Kurita to hit Davion as well."
"On the other hand, if everything fails, and Davion proves much tougher than we think, we might have just stubbed the toe af a very big, very nasty giant............
Posted by: FestusOMO
(5/17/01 11:37:41 am)
Edited by: FestusOMO at: 5/17/01 11:38:57 am
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:37:24
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Ginko being startled jumped up.Jesus H Christ don't ever do that, good way to get fraged.
Sorry about that, said Aged looking a little startled himself. I saw the door open and had a question for the Doc.
No problem friend, by the way I don't think we've met.Names Ginko, Gink for short.
Please to meet you Gink, names Aged, just get onboard, haven't seen you around????
*shaking hands*Just got transferred here and the Doc and me go way back.He told me to lock up and I've got to be somewhere else.Nice meeting you, got to run.
*pushes Aged out the door, locks it and moves on*
Man Aged's hand seem a little cold and damp wonder what's up with that,wonders Ginko.For some reason I think Me and Aged will become good friends.Time to get to the CO and get my work assignment.
Posted by: GinkoOMO
(5/17/01 11:41:30 am)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:40:21
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Whoa, he's kinda jumpy, thought Aged.
Then again, it fit into "his" persona. Aged began recalling the history...
Back around 2965, the medical research programs had started to unravel as word of their existence somehow made it into the public eye. By 2997, the programs had pretty much been dismantled and by 3002, laws had been put in place that forbid the use of human tissue in such research - a bit of an over reaction, of course, but it was the law.
Unfortunately for Ginko, brain reconstruction surgery had not yet progress to the point where he could be restored. So, he stayed frozen until he was sold to the Smithsonian. He became quite the globe trotter, as the museum was frequently loaning out their perfectly preserved specimen of a 20th century man to various museums around the world.
It was while he was on exhibit in the UK that terrorists (or so it was supposed) abducted him. It was rumored that disgruntled ex-employees from the "program" were responsible. Indeed, it was following an armored calvary raid on a medical research facility run by a terrorist organization that Ginko, alive and unfrozen, had been found. Word of this discovery had never made its way into to the newspaper - except for the National Enquirer.
The research material recovered was shocking. Owing to the ban on the use of human tissue, the group had focussed on grafting animal tissues with human ones. In addition, an extensive program of bio-electronic had been pursued and developed to an astonishing level. The research material on Ginko revealed that various animal brains had been grafted into his own to repair the damage that had been done. His frontal lobes had once belonged to a howler monkey and had been augmented with electronic implants. This, in theory, provided him with a rudimentary intelligence as well as a built in control port. His brainstem now had fibers from a housecat intertwined with his own. It had been found that this combination provided quick reflexes in a way that the result was greater the the sum of the two parts. Basically, they had been trying to develop a quick reflexed, soulless killing machine - part human, part animal, part cybernetic. He was intended to live out his life as a cymol (one of many hopefully), taking orders from the terrorists and conquering the world. He could adapt ideally to a situation, but continued exposure might make him too adapted. For example, changing his viewport or even the feel of the stick in his mech could result in a difficult or frustrating transition for him. His programming did allow for him to learn, but his capacity for learning was not known. It was thought that he would develop a personality on his own, but what would he remember?
Ginko stayed with the armored calvary and somehow ended up with the OMO. Aged figured that Gink would be a guy you'd want close to you in a fight - his friendship would be a good thing.
But, the friendship would have to wait...
Aged headed off to the hollow decks (or hooker decks, as most referred to them when Aged used them). The Geriatrica would be leaving orbit soon - negotiations were going well and they'd be leaving as soon as the defense garrison arrived. They'd be heading for jump points that would take them through some potentially hostile space and there'd be little time for recreation once that happenned, so Aged figured he'd better take advantage of the situation while he could.
Aged loved programming naked women. They were great. Heck, he didn't even need to get them drunk if he didn't want to. This behavior was definately part of his make up. During his trial, he'd tried to beat the rap by claiming he was a sex addict and couldn't control himself; therefore, he wasn't responsible for what had (almost) happened. Aged's defense strategy hadn't set too well with the judge because it was the judge's daughter that was in the car with Aged at the time of his arrest. Oh well, at least, the armored calvary had come to the rescue.
I think I'll go with a red-head this time, thought Aged as he continued toward the hooker decks...
Posted by: Aged
(5/17/01 1:11:17 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:43:14
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Pickled has the mother of all tooth aches (can he trust the ships dentist).
Perhaps he must wait to get home and visit the nearest barber.
On the other hand Pickled has worked out that beer is a coolant (alcahol and water) and as Mechs need to be kept cool! Perhaps beer may make a more efficient coolant flush...
Pickled then decided to experiment with this idea and installed a fridge in all Mech Cockpits. (any objections)?
Of course he doesn't need alcahol. Pickled has never worried about his mechs paint being scratched. Unlike some.
Posted by: PickledOMO
(5/18/01 2:28:26 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:48:26
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Planetfall St.Ives.
Less than an hour ago, the Geriatrix had completed its final jump and had moved in system to St. Ives.
The bulk of the crew, and the OMO Mechwarriors had gathered on the observation deck to watch as orbit was achieved, formalities were followed, and the Geriatrix was cleared to land.
St. Ives itself was a blue-green class M planet, very similar in appearance to old Earth. The surface appeared to be mostly undeveloped, dotted only here and there by a surprisingly small number of cities, the signs of civilization.
Arcane knew that the pristine, undeveloped look of St. Ives was merely an Illusion. The bulk of St. Ives industry and commerce was warrened in a huge underground network, invisible to the naked eye.
Sleepy as this planetary system looked, it was one of the most heavily defended systems in the inner sphere. St. Ives consisted of only 5 planets, but they were rich, and heavily defended.
Arcane had been on the bridge and had seen the loards light up as the Geriatrix had been scanned, challenged, and allowed to proceed after providing the right codes for intra-system travel.
The energy signatures he had seen, and the sheer number of them, had been daunting.
Planetary, orbital, and mobile weapons platforms had kept the Dropship under a very uncomfortable microscope from the minute they had exited jumpspace. And these were just the active systems, no telling how many passive, undetected bogies were watching too. The odds of any unwelcome dropship making planetfall as anything more than a meteor shower were slim indeed.
As the ship dropped into the atmosphere there was a odd, gut-twisting sensation as the artificial gravity was shut off and planetary gravity took hold. That and the fact that a person suddenly gained about 25% more weight (ships grav was .75 standard during flight)made even veteran warriors queasy.
In what seemed no time at all, Geriatrix touched down at a dropship pad, engines were shut down and the formaliites began. The OMOs all had dressed in their best uniforms, and marched out in two columns and prepared for inspection. Everyone was there, even Pickled. While he was dresed in his whites and was sober, he was a bit pale. De-alc was not without side effects.
The group was greeted by high ranking civil and military officials, and none other than Candice Liao herself.
Since they were running this operation Arcane, Myopic and Festus, along with the ever present Aged, were greeted in person.
Candace Liao was a striking woman, and she radiated assurance and self-confidence as she moved down the line, taking hands and talking to each of them in turn. Until she came to Festus...
Aged watched as Festus took her hand. Things appeared a bit cooler suddenly, the look a bit more formal, guarded. There was more here than met the eye. Could Festus have been reminiscing instead of fantasizing when he was in the Brig?
Naaaa...........
When the formalities were over, the officials gone, the crew finally could relax. People went about their business, gathered in small groups, and looked about.
Everyones eyes turned to the Dropship when an outer doorswung open, groaning loudly and with a huge clatter and a crash, dust flying everywhere, the Anchor hit the ground. Pickleds' handiwork was obvious, the man wasn't about to waste any time.
In what was obviously a coordinated effort, Ginko trotted out of the main airlock, a keg on each shoulder. One he lowered gently to the ground and set aside. The other he propped up between the crossed lightening bolts of the anchor, as was tradition, and deftly tapped.
"Drink up boys!" he yelled, "Some of us won't be around for the next time we do this".
The party had begun.
Posted by: FestusOMO
(5/20/01 1:06:20 pm)
Edited by: FestusOMO at: 5/20/01 1:09:43 pm
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:51:50
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Festus noticed something about Ginko, he seemed to have a boot print on his forehead. This was so odd as to shake Festus out of his fantasy that Candice Liao had looked at him in some 'come hither' way. Becoming annoyed at the lost image, Festus asked Ginko, "What the hell happened to your head, Gink?" Ginko rubbed his head, "That damned BackPain jumped down from the ladder and landed right on my head. Somanabitch damn near broke my neck!" Ginko was beginning to get mad all over again. "Nope, nope, not gonna let that blind bastard ruin my party, not gonna do it." Says Ginko. As it turned out, BackPain had indeed jumped on Ginko's head while Ginko, Arcane, and Aged were standing around thumbing themselves at the bottom of the ladder leading from the officers quarters to the main deck. You'd have thought they would have had something better to do at the time than stand around at an obvious landing spot for someone jumping down a ladder but, it seems they didn't. BackPain said he was sorry several times for landing on Ginko, but it seems he just needed a little payback to settle down. So, when BackPain came out of the jumpship to join the party he was still rubbing his jaw from Ginko's retaliation. BackPain moves his jaw back and forth several times and thinks to himself, "Naw. Its not broke." Then, "I need a drink." He then spots the kegs and starts trotting over towards Ginko. "Damn, my boots are wearing out. The treads almost down to nothing." Says BackPain, noticing the pattern on Ginko's forehead.
Posted by: BackPainOMO
(5/20/01 3:25:55 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:54:17
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BEEEEEERRRRR!!!!
Posted by: Buttcrax OMO
(5/20/01 9:18:03 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 20:56:54
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Buttcrax new where that look between Festus and the Princess came from. He still had the pictures on an independent hand held. Pickeld had come across them one night and buttcrax was tired of hearing him beg, "PLEASE OH PLEASE CAN I SEE THE PICTURES, Please please please."
Man!! you'd think Pickled never saw anything like it.
No matter what anyone said, Buttcrax new Festus was a stud and the princess lovingly referred to him as "Chocolate Thunder"
let me put it this way. That girl had an appitite.
"Ill have to remind festus who purloined 3 dozen fresh oysters, 5 parsecs from the nearest class M body of salt water that fateful night." thought Buttcrax
Buttcrax went about cleaning the dischargers on the lasers on his Madcat. He hoped to see some action on this trip. battel that is, It had been a while and he did sign up for this outfit because he loved to shoot the bad guys. Never a crack piolet (pardon the pun) but was beginning to be an asset in a few particular types of battles.
"Damn,.... Allright!!!" shouted Buttcrax, "Who keeps shoving suspenders in my coolant vents!"
"Very friggen funny"
Posted by: Buttcrax OMO
(5/20/01 9:37:12 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 21:03:15
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Funny thing about being in space...
it made most folks just a little crazy. The docs said it had something to do with the psychology of the human mind, enclosed spaces, and the stark reality of what existed just beyond the bulkhead. For years back on Earth, before space travel had become a reality, the docs had experimented with the effect of isolation on the mind by sending small teams of people to remote locations on supposed exploratory missions. The Arctic and Antarctic were such places. Isolated from the rest of the world for months at a time, these small teams were subjected to environments that would be put them right at home here in space. The testing concluded that it took some kind of defect in what is considered mental/social normalcy in order to resist a total mental breakdown in isolated, harsh environments.
Arcane didn’t know about all that psychobabble BS, he just knew that the air on board the Geriatrix was bad enough without Festus adding to it after one of his “binges” AND THAT was making him crazy. Yeah, the docs said that you needed to have a personality defect to be a spacer, let alone a mech driver, so he figured that drinking must be Festus’. He stood by the cell door and shook his head in disbelief as he watch Festus head down the passage. Festus looked back and gave Arcane one of his patented winks and a smile as he shut the hatch behind him.
Arcane had to smile to himself. Festus was anything if not predictable. He was always pulling that pickpocket thing and he needed quite a bit of practice to be any good at it. By now, Festus, would more than likely have rummaged through the wallet and found that there wasn’t a thing with any significant value. Arcane shrugged and put his mind to the task of cleaning up after his friend... someone had to.
It seemed that you could never quite get all the stain or the smell cleaned out of the cells they used as a drunk tank. So, Arcane had submitted a req for some special biohazard clean up materials when they hit Outreach a couple of jumps back. He was putting them to good use when the hatch opened.
“Hey, Arcane”
“H...huh!” Arcane replied, clearly startled. “Oh... h... hi Myo w..hat are you doing down here?”
“Well, I’m pretty feed up with the head smellin' like @#%$.”
“Ah... O.K... WTF you want me to do about it?”
“Give me a break, Arcane, you’re in charge of Custodial Engineering, right?”
Arcane looked dumbfounded for a moment. His head was spinning. Maybe it was fumes from the cleaning materials or maybe it was the unexpected insult from a lancemate. He knew that most of the other guys joked behind his back, because he was always cleaning up after Festus, but frontal confrontation...
“#*& DAMNIT THAT PISSES ME OFF!” he shouts as he throws a bucket at the bulkhead.
It was Myopic’s turn to be surprised; clearly he was the butt of one of Aged’s bad jokes. This was a bad situation as Arcane had turned into a raving lunatic. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed. His brows were furrowed and lips were pulled back in a snarl. Myopic knew he had better get the hell out of there quick. Just as he began to step back, Arcane fell to his hands and knees. The pychosed implant was always just a little slow in activating.
“Myo, s.. s.. so.. sorry,” Arcane whispered in a shaky voice, “n... not your f.. f.. fault”
“@#%$ Arcane you scared the crap out of me. What was that all about?”
“T.. t... throw back t.. t.. to ... days ... captive ... Clanners” Arcane managed weakly.
During the battle for Luthein, the Clans captured Arcane after his escape pod misfired. Furious at the prospect of being defeated by what they called “freebirths” one of the more amoral clans embarked on a secret mission so subversive that most details are still unknown. Labeled “Project Freebirth” a select group of the clan’s scientist caste were given unlimited experimental authority over captured IS MechWarriors. Arcane had been one of those MechWarriors and had been in captivity for over a year before his rescue. The story has it that another Clan, Clan Wolf in Exile, was performing routine patrols on a remote planet when they intercepted a distress signal. Arriving at a scientific outpost they were greeted with a macabre and grizzly scene. Drenched in blood and covered in bits and pieces of human flesh was a solitary individual. After the investigation, the best theory of the events was that Arcane had single handedly killed all his captors with a fire axe and his bare hands. There were extenuating circumstances. The experiments that had been performed on him had unlocked and enhanced various attributes that were normally reserved for Clan born. His strength, endurance, speed, and dexterity had been highly modified and linked to emotional spikes. Emotions were amplified to extremes to create a battle focus called bloodlust. Bloodlust is what happened at the outpost... fellow captives, technicians, support personnel, and MechWarriors... all dead. The Clan wanted to know just how far a “freebirth” could be pushed in order to find a weakness. Instead they found the spirit of the freeborn, a spirit of vengeance that walked amongst them like the grim reaper, the specter of death. For a long time after that, there were whispers when Arcane walked by “isn’t that the axe murder?”
For Arcane, luckily, the events at “Project Freebirth Outpost” were mostly vague images with no sounds, no tactile feedback, no emotion…. always the images brought intense remorse and regret… and there were memories of other events too. Monster or savior… he supposed it all depended on your point of view. Having been posthumously, so they thought, awarded the Medal of Valor for conspicuous actions above and beyond the call of duty in the Luthein Action, Arcane was considered a war hero. He was taken to a special ComStar medical research facility and attended to by the finest docs in the Inner Sphere. The best they could do was to provide a psycho-sedative implant that would suppress the emotional spikes. The implant monitored millions of inputs per second and somehow could determine when it was appropriate to fire the sedative. The sedative was administered in variable dosages depending on the situation. Even then, in the heat of battle, the bloodlust would sometimes overwhelm the sedatives. It was all quite beyond Arcane’s comprehension. All he knew was that the sedatives, somehow, “put down the headaches”.
Recovering slightly, Arcane says, trying to muster up a smile “Sorry, Myo, I’ll go take care of the head. I have some HazMat clean up material here that should do the job. I had it requisitioned back at Outlook to clean up the brig... well.. clean up after Festus actually.”
“Arcane, I...”
“Don’t worry about it Myo. I’m the one who needs to apologize. Go on and get out of here so I can finish before the CO sees this mess.”
“See ya, Arcane” Myopic turns and leaves the brig... still a little unsettled and unsure just what had transpired. Arcane is one crazy dude he thought to himself as he walked down the hall. Mental note to self, keep a surveillance camera on him from now on.
Arcane had become quite successful the last couple of years running an engineering operation called “Mech Chassis Configurations by Arcane”. It was one of the reasons that OMO had picked St. Ives and the St. Ives Compact as their base of operations. A major 'Mech producing center and historically a leader in the production of electronics, St. Ives currently hosted the largest concentration of electronics and avionics manufacturing centers in the Compact and formerly in the Capellan Confederation, as well as the most extensive AeroSpace fighter production center in the region. It was one of the most important and most heavily defended of the House Liao worlds.
St. Ives was honeycombed with vast underground factory complexes invulnerable to all but the most costly man-to-man actions, making a full-scale conquest of the planet unlikely.
Arcane stood admiring his quarters. The Victorian motif was based on pictures from old Earth. Most of the guys knew that Arcane was the owner of the Geriatrix and didn’t fault him the right to a few “special” privileges. Besides, planetside, Arcane was known to loan out the room for special occasions. And what the hell, Arcane made sure that the others had their share of amenities. Aged for example was extremely proficient at Holo-sculpting so Arcane had the best equipment in the IS installed for his use… Ha, besides, everyone benefited from Aged’s work, as it seemed that he was damn good at AI programming as well. There were numerous “holo-suites” through out the known space, a good many used for sexual relief, but none compared to Aged’s. Then there was Festus’ “Private Brewski”, no not the stuff in the keg… the bottled private reserve that Festus though no one knew about. ButtCrax and Pickled’s special spices, the list went on and on. All of these things were prohibitively expensive and would not have been possible without Arcane’s help. Mind you, most of the guy’s thought that they paid their own way… Arcane would have it any other way.
Arcane sat down at his terminal to check up on current events. His monitor script showed him that his new TacOps officer, Ginko, had locked himself in Sickbay. “WTF is this? Medi knows better than to leave someone in sickbay with wide open file access!” he puzzled.
Curious, and a little apprehensive that Ginko may have been reading something about him, Arcane panned and zoomed the camera in towards the documents Ginko was reading. Just then, before the documents were in view… a mail from the CO showed up. “Hmmm, what is this? Alright!!! My new Mad Cat, ‘LightBringer’, is ready for field action! But, what the hell? The CO is reassigning my Thanny to Aged!!! Effective immediately! OK, calm down... read the orders...” he muttered under his breath.
Arcane slowly read the orders. It seems that Aged had depleted all the available Thor knee actuators with his less than successful attempts at performing DFA (Death From Above). Arcane had been trying to teach him the finer points of jump jet piloting but was as of yet unable to get him to be able to perform that critical alpha strike just before impact. There also was the bit about using all the thrust and not saving the micro burst just before landing.
“Oh, well... my Thanny “Terror” is more than up to the job. Maybe I should have been teaching Aged in the Thanatos from the beginning. Hmmm, guess the CO knows what he’s doin.”, he thought to himself.
The planetfall alarm klaxon broke him out of his reverie… Time to go to the observation deck. Festus and Aged would be there for sure, as it was customary.
Posted by: Arcane OMO
(5/23/01 1:15:57 pm)
Edited by: Arcane OMO at: 12/12/01 10:06:46 pm
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 21:07:39
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Real air was so much better than the canned, recycled stuff aboard the Geriatrix, Festus thought as he headed up the ramp and back into the ship.
Especially after a long voyage, such as the one they had just completed.
"Well, I gotta accept some responsibilty for that. I really should cleaned the head and had Pickled tidy up the anchor locker".
Sure enough, the atmosphere inside the ship was still plenty pungent, even with the air exchange system running flat out. It would take a bit longer to air the old ship out.
Festus was on his way to grab a feww of his special stock. All natural, micro-brewed beer from a little brewery near where he lived, and there weren't many of these ones left.
As he headed towards his stash, he ran across Arcane in the hallway. Arcane had a mop, a bucket, and a serious scowl on his face as he was preparing to clean the head.
"Thanks buddy, I was going to get to that" Festus started to say, when the look on Arcanes face froze the words in his mouth. "Damnation, Arcane looks pissed, real pissed, and why is he staring at the emergency station?" "Theres the fire hose and an axe there......
Festus had heard the rumours, and he decided that the brews could wait. "Lemme do that!", he said, and he grabbed the bucket and mop from Arcane.
"Its my job, should done it some time ago, Festus said. "Ummmmm, why don't you go outside and relax a bit bro, I'll take it from here."
Festus had the uncomfortable feeling that Arcane was trying to look over his shoulder, in the direction of the axe.
"Go on now, GIT", and he pushed Arcane in the direction of the outdoors, "I'll even bring ya a good beer when I'm done here, ...Now GO!".
Arcane finally quit looking "that away" and headed outdoors towards the fresh air and the party.
Posted by: FestusOMO
(5/23/01 4:04:38 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 21:09:33
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Spacecraft have a peculiar smell.
Usually, it's rather subtle. This planetfall (that term always bothered Aged - the whole idea of "falling" out of the sky made him skittish) though, it was quite a bit more pungeant. Still the subtle smells of the ship were present, as any veteran of travel onboard a military spacecraft would immediately notice. The faint scent of ozone and mech grease were as noticable to the OMO as the smell of hydraulic fluid was to the submariners of centuries ago.
For most people, this brought on a sense of nausea as bad memories would begin to surface. For Aged, on the other hand, they brought a sense of security. No doubt the fresh air smelled better, but on this deceptively heavily populated world it brought with it a sense of claustrophobia for Aged. Aged was a loner - one of those ideally suited to space travel. Planetside, he rarely ventured far from the ship - except in those cases where a drop would be made on some uninhabited world. Then, Aged was in his element (at least the element apart from the ship). He loved to explore looking for great places to hide from society. However, here on St. Ives, Aged was noticeably nervous. And, Aged knew just how to calm his nerves...
Quaffing his 5th mug of beer (eh, who cared if it was Genesee - it was the tradition that mattered), Aged began to feel more at ease. Sometimes he could hit it just right and not only be at ease, but even charming. This would not be one of those times. In times like this, he would often do stupid stuff. It would always seem like a good idea at the time (at least to his alcohol soaked mind), but later Aged would find he had lots of things to be embarassed about. On this particular occasion, he was duck walkin' with his best air guitar and screaming out long forgotten (by most people, at least) tunes.
"I can't seem to face up to the facts, I'm tense and nervous, and I can't relax, I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire, Don't touch me, I'm a real live wire ...
Psycho Killer
Qu'est-ce que c'est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away."
Oh well, another incident that Aged would later hope nobody remembered was in the making ...
Glancing around, it was obvious the Festus wouldn't be the one to remind him. He was wandering around among the ladies of the greeting party, slurring a version of his latest exploits to any woman desparate enough to care. Myopic, on the other hand, was another story. When he and Aged would make eye contact, Myopic's expression was decidely cold. "What's up with that?", thought Aged...
Posted by: Aged
(5/23/01 5:04:05 pm)
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Arcane
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Posted - May 03 2003 : 21:13:50
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Arcane always joined the festivities a little late. He watched from the observation deck at the spectacle below. Most of the OMO were present, as were a number of dignitaries, and lots of just plain folk. Aged was just about ripe for the picking as he was already doin the duck walk and playing air guitar. No sight of Festus yet... must still be cleanin the head. Sheesh, wonder what got into him... acted like he had seen the face of death or something.
Arcane didn’t do much drinkin but it was customary and he believed in tradition. Time to liven up the show. He pressed a button on the bulkhead. The wall simmered, then disappeared revealing a room full of musical equipment, some of which dated back to the 20th century. He walked over and picked up his favorite guitar, a 1982 Starburst Gibson Les Paul Studio. He pulled the strap over his head and grabbed up the black Gibson Flying V. The others would just have to get their own stuff, he thought. Exiting the room, he opens the observation deck window via a wrist control unit.
“AGED!!!”, he yells.
Aged doesn’t even miss a beat. Up on the nearest table he jumps, reaching towards Arcane with his mysteriously over built arm.
Arcane steps out from the observation deck and falls... It was a relatively short fall, about 110 feet, his antigrav boots kicking in at the last minute, his full-length leather trench billowing in the air. Timing had to be perfect... tossing the the Flying V to Aged, he lands on the table. BAMN! The sound reverberating thought the area as metal hit metal.
On queue... BONG! BONG! rang out the church bells.
Aged and Arcane start laying out some serious metal riffs.
IT WAS HEADBANGIN TIME!!!
Make his fight on the hill in the early day
Constant chill deep inside
Shouting gun on they run through the endless grey
On they fight, for they are right, yes, but who’s to say
For a hill men would kill, why? They do not know
Suffered wounds test their pride
Men of five, still alive through the raging glow
Gone insane from the pain that they surely know
For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls
Take a look to the sky just before you die
It’s the last time you will
Blackened roar massive roar fills the crumbling sky
Shattered goal fills his soul with a ruthless cry
Stranger now, are his eyes, to this mystery
Hears the silence so loud
Crack of dawn, all is gone except the will to be
Now they see what will be, blinded eyes to see
For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls
Arcane loved what Aged had done with the holo-sound system (of course, Arcane knew that Back had something to do with the whole physics/mathematics work). It must have been like this at rock concerts of old. The music made him soar and so he did. Aged and Arcane battling lead guitar solos 30 feet in the air... what an exhibition!
All this and the night was just beginning...
Posted by: Arcane OMO
(5/23/01 11:49:13 pm)
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St. Ives Compact
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