Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Tulsa: Epilogue

The Hotel Pacifica was still a brothel, but things had slowed down ever since that fateful day the madame was killed while running from the law. And if that wasn't enough, the next fateful day the payroll train got robbed. This meant that all the miners in Tulsa didn't get the liquid portion of their salaries. The town was dry. So the Hotel Pacifica was real quiet.

That suited one resident just fine.

Anne Clarke was bedridden in a corner room on the second floor. She had survived the same car accident that killed the madame. But she didn't survive by much, and the Caseback Mining Company refused to pay for her convalescence beyond the normal rate for the room. Something about breaking her contract with them, or something. Everyone in the know didn't figure the former Marshal much longer for this world.

The poor woman lay there on the bed, her face pale and clammy. She didn't feel hungry much, thanks to the intravenous tube that caravan medico had hooked up. The quiet let her contemplate freely. And when the pain from her injuries and from her contemplation got too great, she could press a little button with the single finger she could still move just a little, and ease everything back with a heavy dose of pain meds in the drip. She counted the minutes while she lay there, immobile on her back, floating and bobbing in waves of pain, regret and drugs.

A motorcycle drove up and stopped out front. Anne swallowed. It was beyond her conscious control, but she recognized the engine's sound. She could hear the booted foosteps walk in the dust and then climb onto the boardwalk.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The door to the hotel swished open.

Anne shivered, and cussed to herself that it was probably just ghost sensations. It was all in her mind, and if it weren't, well she couldn't move her head to check anyways.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The boots walked over to the stairwell and then thumped up the stairs quietly. Once they hit the second floor landing, they stopped.

Anne's breathing slowed.

The boots thumped down the hall to her door. The doorknob wiggled. It was locked, but she knew that wouldn't stop him. The door was still, and then the lock popped quietly.

"Annie," the man's voice was soft and genial. The door closed behind him. The boots didn't thump anymore and Anne knew that Millan was checking the room for recorders.

"Annie," he started again, "I'm so sorry to see you like this." Millan stood over her. Anne blinked and her eyes widened in horror. He smiled, "no, I can't imagine you're happy to see me. Then again, I wasn't here for you. You never did make contact with ol' Zeb, now did you? Figured you'd hide right under my nose instead. Good plan. But that Western spy, she had you pegged as a collaborator in a flash, didn't she?" he chuckled, gently stroking Anne's cheek, "probably had your face run through a whole databank. She must have filled in the blanks too."

Anne's eyes flitted a bit. She barely breathed.

"I came here lookin' for Zeb, and instead I find that he's dead, that the Spike and Spur's burned down and that you've been hiding here the whole time!" Millan's voice rose just enough to get his anger across, "Annie, I'm impressed. You almost slid through the cracks. I bet you could have gotten rid of that spy and then dropped off the face of the planet. But instead you're paralyzed, helpless and dying."

Millan had picked up the morphine button and shook his head ruefully, "honestly darlin', I didn't think you'd go like this," he whispered, "Someone who did what you did... I thought you'd got shot by a reprisal squad. There's quite a few active you know. Though I honestly thought you'd have slipped away by now."

Millan pressed the button once. Twice. A third time. Anne's pupil's dilated. She could barely hear him. Her skin burned.

"You'll be the last ... - a plan to let us all slip away ... - not Earthers...no one will find us..."

Millan pressed the button a few more times. He stroked Anne's cheek for a few moments more. When he walked out of the room, his boots didn't make a sound.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Vagabond

"Vagabond's a great ride. Konnor and me, and me son Leon, we been workin' on the old beast since we hooked up wit' Konnor in Lance Point. Since then, it's been tweakin' and tweakin' and upgradin'. When we hit Khayr-ad Din last cycle I was surprised as all heck that'n Konnor an' Gade made it into the tourney. Ok, mainly Gade. No offense 'er nothin'. But it's Vagabond who did better than we coulda' hoped. Managed the semis before getting nailed bad by that Jaguar...

Vagabond's no show pony. After the tourney, we put 'im back out into the caravan as quick as we could, and he's been pulling his weight and then some ever since. Konnor keeps the loadout pretty standard. Some extra grenades and cannon clips, but nothing fancy. He's a duelist. He don't need nothin' fancy."

-Hector Cardano, head mechanic for the Vagabond Dueling Team. Gear Up! Magazine, Summer TN1920.
--------------

The Sidewinder class of Heavy Gears is a reliable and solid model designed with the pilot's safety in mind. All that has been modified on this machine is that the secondary movement system's output has been tweaked to give a little extra speed on open terrain. Konnor carries a standard load, though he likes to keep an extra vibroblade handy. In a duel, Vagabond is particularly well-behaved and disciplined, a mechanical extension of its pilot. On caravan patrol duty, the gear tends to get restless, and Konnor spends extra time sparring with Gade and Peter Smit to keep his Neural Net sharp.


HEAVY GEAR VEHICLE RECORD SHEET
NAME:VEHICLE SPECIFICATIONS
Vagabond
SIZE:6
MODEL:CREW:1
OACS-04M/SU Sidewinder
BONUS ACTIONS:0
CLASS:CREW SKILLS
General Purpose Gear
PILOT:

GUNNERY:
MOVEMENT
PRIMARY COMBAT:4/-1
PRIMARY TOP:8/+1
SECONDARY COMBAT:7/+1
SECONDARY TOP:14/+2
MANEUVER:0
ELECTRONICS
SENSORS:0
COMMUNICATION:0
FIRE CONTROL:0
ARMOUR
LIGHT DAMAGE:16
HEAVY DAMAGE:32
OVERKILL:48
WEAPONS
CODE-NAME:RANGEDAMACCRoF/CLIPSpecial
Vibroblade x 2
0
x8
0
0
close combat
HLB-16 AP Grenade Launcher
50m
x3
-1
0/6
IF, AI, AE=0
M2-A Hand Grenades x 3
0
x15
-1
0
AI, IF
Paxton PR-50 Med. Autocannon
150m
x10
0
+1/40
2 extra clips
FSRP-42N Med. Rocket Pack/36
100m
x18
-1
+4/36
IF






PERKS
NAME:RATING:GAME EFFECTAUX
Hostile Environment Protection

Desert

Manipulator Arms x2
6
Can Punch

Reinforced Crew Compartment

Absorbs first Crew Compartment Hit

Emergency Medical Systems

Absorbs one "crew stunned" result





FLAWS
NAME:RATING:GAME EFFECTAUX
None







DEFECTS
NAME:RATING:GAME EFFECTAUX
None







xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Honey

The Caravan had set up in Khayr-ad Din's Trader's Way to maximize business. However, the Behemoth and the Longrunner that were devoted to gear transport and repair were set up next to the Guild Casino's Heavy Gear dueling pro-shop and garage.

The weather was clear and sunny, and in the early afternoon after the siesta, everyone was back at work in the vehicle bays.

"Ethan, I didn't expect to see you here," the pretty girl with freckles and curly blond hair called out.

"Hey Stacy, yeah," Ethan Dunn shrugged a little sheepishly, "it was either join the caravan or keep pushing pencils underground."

Stacy nodded, suspecting just what sort of bad memories Ethan had left in New Baja, "well, good! I don't think that the youngest Regulator should be sitting behind a desk!" Stacy Sliebovitz hugged Ethan warmly. The younger man blushed, and returned the embrace after a moment's hesitation.

"Well," Stacy was as warm as ever, "let's see. Hunter Recon...formerly an anti-Gear-missile capable model..." she looked over the datapad, "formerly Green Trading House property..." she scanned the display. Ethan scanned the pretty mechanic.

"Reinforce leg armour, increase engine output to compensate," Stacy was talking to herself, nodding abstenmindedly, "attach laser designator, upload software. Done!"

Ethan turned and looked at her, "can I see it?"

"Oh sure," Stacy smiled back saucily, "but it'll cost ya."

"Oh? What?"

"A spin on the dance floor!"

---------------

The Hunter Recon was the first Hunter variant to be produced, and has since been rendered obsolete with the production of more purpose-built reconnaissance Heavy Gears. The gear did enjoy a resurgence of sorts during the dark days of the War of the Alliance, when any and all gears were needed to stop the Earthers. This gear comes from the WFPA junkyards and was sold as scrap to the Green Trading House at the War's end.

This Hunter Recon has been assigned to Ethan Dunn, a particularly agile pilot who is serving as scout and forward observer for the Caravan, and specifically for it's guided weapons systems. Though the gear's fire control systems and weapons remain somewhat underarmoured, its legs have been reinforced beyond the ballistic cloth used on the original Hunter Recon.


HEAVY GEAR VEHICLE RECORD SHEET
NAME:VEHICLE SPECIFICATIONS
Honey
SIZE:6
MODEL:CREW:1
HACS-01-MG-SKT Hunter Recon
BONUS ACTIONS:0
CLASS:CREW SKILLS
Reconnaissance Gear
PILOT:

GUNNERY:
MOVEMENT
PRIMARY COMBAT:4/-1
PRIMARY TOP:8/+1
SECONDARY COMBAT:7/+1
SECONDARY TOP:13/+2
MANEUVER:0
ELECTRONICS
SENSORS:0
COMMUNICATION:0
FIRE CONTROL:0
ARMOUR
LIGHT DAMAGE:14
HEAVY DAMAGE:28
OVERKILL:42
WEAPONS
CODE-NAME:RANGEDAMACCRoF/CLIPSpecial
Riley R235 Medium Rifle
200m
x10
0
0/40

Vibroblade
0
x8
0
-
Close Combat
M2-A Hand Grenade x 3
0
x15
-1
0
AI, IF






PERKS
NAME:RATING:GAME EFFECTAUX
Easy to Modify

+2 to Repair and Modify rolls

Manipulator Arms x2
6
Can Punch

Target Designator
2
Can designate for guided weapons
Y
Hostile Environment Protection

Desert
Y
Camo Netting: Desert

+1 Concealment in Desert terrain





FLAWS
NAME:RATING:GAME EFFECTAUX
Exposed Fire Control

+1 to Fire Control Damage Table Rolls





DEFECTS
NAME:RATING:GAME EFFECTAUX
None







xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cheesebox

"Ok, gears," Kelly called out, her countenance calm and civil as she sat atop an ammo crate in the Cave, "Everyone here is a qualified gear pilot, and now it's time to finally put everyone in their own gears." Kelly looked over the display on her dataglove, and then looked at the eleven assembled pilots before her. She blinked.

"Karin, Tessa, you're not qualified!" she scowled.

"Awww!" the two girls protested and then stomped out down the ramp in a huff.

"The ten of us are the Caravan's qualified patrol pilots," Kelly began, "everyone will be riding shotgun on rotation. That being said, I'm dividing you into two esquoades of five, that's squads for you Northern types," she smiled thinly, "we've still got two gears to divvy up. Ethan!"

"Yes ma'am!" Ethan leaned his elbow somewhat slovenly against an oil drum. The former Regulator had joined the Caravan two days ago. He had been waiting in Khayr-ad Din for their arrival. He looked far less like the harried New Baja administrator and much more like the young, daredevil driver the Regulators once knew.

"You'll be scout and forward observer. You're in the Hunter Recon."

Ethan nodded.

"Aww, shit, you're kidding right?" Josephina protested, "the kid just rejoined and I get stuck with the armoured cheese box?"

"Quiet Jo! You'll hurt its feelings!" Ethan ribbed the tall woman, who responded with an icy glare. The didn't call her the Dragon Lady for nothing.

"Alright," Kelly continued, "first squad's roster is: Gun, Corsair, Barbie II, Lex and whatever Sam decides to rename that Blitz Iggy."

Torch grinned cheekily at Mendelbaum, who managed to force a smile back. He knew that Torch would need some serious baby-sitting. Still, Ari considered, she'd probably be useful in an attack.

"Sam's still on the mend," Kain said from the back, "but I think he might have a name picked out...eventually."

"Second squad is Reserve. I'm in Scrap, there's Bulldog, the Hunter Recon -"

"Honey," Ethan called out.

"Honey," Kelly continued, cocking an eyebrow at the younger man, "Vagabond," she nodded to Konnor. Then Kelly grinned, "and Cheesebox."

Josephina groaned.
----------------------

The Bear Heavy Gear known as Cheesebox has been with the Caravan since Baja. The subject of near universal distain and pity, the gear is nevertheless blessed with formidable firepower. The Neural Net behaves well, though Josephina has complained of it being something of a "nagging old mare."

Carmichael has taken a liking to the obsolete fire support gear, and has spent his time tinkering with the engine and transmission. This has given the gear extra running speed, though the older secondary movement system design has prevented any increase in rolling speed.


HEAVY GEAR VEHICLE RECORD SHEET
NAME:VEHICLE SPECIFICATIONS
Cheesebox
SIZE:7
MODEL:CREW:1
HACS-01HG-FS Bear
BONUS ACTIONS:0
CLASS:CREW SKILLS
Fire Support Heavy GearPILOT:

GUNNERY:
MOVEMENT
PRIMARY COMBAT:4 / -1
PRIMARY TOP:7 / +1
SECONDARY COMBAT:5 / 0
SECONDARY TOP:10 / +2
MANEUVER:-1
ELECTRONICS
SENSORS:0
COMMUNICATION:0
FIRE CONTROL:0
ARMOUR
LIGHT DAMAGE:17
HEAVY DAMAGE:34
OVERKILL:51
WEAPONS
CODE-NAME:RANGEDAMACCRoF/CLIPSpecial
Vibroblade0x90-close combat
MR225 40mm Heavy Autocannon
150m
x12
0
+1/40

GH-10 Medium Rocket Pack/36
100m
x18
-1
+4/36
Ind. Fire, FF
GH-10 Medium Rocket Pack/36
100m
x18
-1
+4/36
Ind. Fire, FF
GU-4 9mm Machinegun
50m
x3
0
+4/200
Anti-Infantry
Harmon T-12 Mortar
150m
x15
-1
0/8
Guided, IF, Min Range 3






PERKS
NAME:RATING:GAME EFFECTAUX
High Towing Capacity
x2
Can tow double weight, +1 kick damage

Manipulator Arm x27Can Punch
Hostile Environment Protection
Desert




FLAWS
NAME:RATING:GAME EFFECTAUX
Large Sensor Profile
1
Easier to detect





DEFECTS
NAME:RATING:GAME EFFECTAUX
None






xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Saturday, June 13, 2009

From the Diary of Natalia Meredine, 12th of Spring TN1920

I can't believe it!, I mean I never expected this from him. There we were doing some repairs on Gun and he asks me to change the oil. I unscrew the release and *tink out it comes. At first I thought it was a washer or something, but then I cleaned it off and even with the grease it sparkled. I'M ENGAGED!

"Natty" he says, "With you I'm the luckiest man in the world, let's show the rest of the world just how lucky I am. Marry me in Khayr-Ad Din. The city where we met, the city we were re-united in, the city that knows us for what we are... Happy"

At least I know why Tessa's been acting so weird, according to Gade if not for her, he'd have had no chance at surprising me. That little grease monkey, she's got more subterfuge in her then I thought.

I sometimes worry about whats gonna happen to him when I'm gone. But every time I even try to bring it up he just closes the subject reassuring me that he'd rather be happy for a short while, then unhappy for all time. But I'll make him happy, he deserves it... I think deserve it too.

Tulsa, TNTR and you.

The Khayr-ad Din Terranovan TransRail office was immaculate and pristine, as usual. The air conditioning was the perfect relief from the dirty trash city. Outside, but within earshot, Basil Paleologus was being courteous and diplomatic towards his next meal, a WestRail executive he had summoned. Inside, Tomohiro Chambers waited quietly. He read the datapad readout in his hands, summarizing its contents in his mind:

WestRail was the largest railroad company in the Protectorate. It had a very important rail line which ran south along the western slopes of the Westridge Mountains, and the Westridge Line's spurs were a prime mover of raw materials and goods in and out of the Badlands. Because the Westridge Line crossed the Gamma Maglev, Westrail's rolling stock were often seen on TNTR cargo pallets, which meant that the goods coming in and out of the Westridge communities were destined for global distribution. This was big business. Doc Chambers looked over the intel report from Tulsa. Kain had done good work.

The door opened and Paleologus entered, preceded by the willowy, elegant WestRail employee.

"-and this is my associate, Dr. Chambers," Basil nodded as the the Doc stood and shook hands, "CEO of the Badlands Caravan Guild. I've asked him to be here for this meeting."

"Doctor," the woman nodded, all business, "Perer Jenn, WestRail Liason to TerraNovan TransRail."

For a moment, Chambers felt a twinge of pity for the young woman. It was, however, soon overtaken by righteous greed, a satisfying compound emotion if there ever was one.

"Please, Ms. Perer, sit," Basil's oily smile was noticed only by Chambers, "a drink perhaps?"

The Doc took the cue and walked over to the small bar. He poured three glasses of Fort James Special, neat, and placed the bottle back on the counter with a clunk. Perer smiled to the Doc quizzically as she took the drink.

"Very well," Paleologus nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. He had yet to sit down, "Ms. Perer, I want you to offer the Badlands Caravan Guild preferential shipping rates on all WestRail lines from Wounded Knee to the Saragossan mountains."

"Excuse me?" Perer's eyes narrowed as she put her drink down. She began to suspect an ambush, "as much as TNTR can afford to provide such services to a small organization such as the Guild, WestRail is not a multinational with such leeway in its bottom line!"

"No, but WestRail is acting in conjunction with a Polar intelligence agency, Ms. Perer." Paleologus never hesitated in going for blood, "and that contravenes the agreement you signed with TNTR in order to operate in conjunction with us." He handed a datapad to the woman. His manner was very casual, but his eyes betrayed anger, "here, read it if you like."

Doc Chambers smirked.

"No, thank you, Mr. Paleologus, I am intimately familiar with our agreement, " she replied icily, "and your claim is outrageous."

"The town of Tulsa?" the Doc chimed in, "Mining operation? The Caseback Company, out of Fort William? I've treated three cases of radiation sickness among TNTR employees who have handled rolling stock going to the Gamma Maglev from your lines."

"There have been two more cases of radioactive contamination at the Fort James Gamma Maglev station," Paleologus was non-plussed.

"I see, and you are accusing me and my company?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because the Caseback Mining Company is wholly owned by WestRail," the Doc shot in, "madam, you have colluded with Western Intelligence assets to smuggle Lithium-7, a means of generating tritium, out of the Tulsa diamond mine and into the Protectorate."

"All the while, using TNTR and WestRail rail stock," said Paleologus.

"So in exchange for ceasing operations, you want the Badlands Caravan Guild to get preferential treatment?" Perer shrugged, "done."

"Oh no, Ms. Perer," Paleologus' face betrayed his predatory nature, "the mining and smuggling of lithium-7 out of Tulsa has already ceased. You will do this favour for me and the Doctor in order for this information to be buried. Otherwise, I will personally see to it that WestRail will be reduced to a single garbage train running a circular track in Fort Henry's weapon testing range."

-----------

"Well, that went well," Doc Chambers smiled, sipping a second glass of Fort James Special.

"Quite," Basil nodded, "well Doctor, your guild now has unfettered access to the Westridge Range for at least the next five cycles. I hope your plans are suitably ambitious."

"They are, thank you Basil."

"Oh, don't thank me Tom. Not yet."

Scavenger and Saint

Sandra stood motionless. She could smell the kill lying in front of her, bleeding out. Sam Tarmalin didn't draw. Well, he didn't draw a gun. It left her a little queazy. She lowered her revolver slowly, drawing aim.

"No!" a voice called out. Sandra looked up. It was that kid, Ellen, from the caravan. Running right towards her from the train platform. Sandra blinked. Usually she tuned out Sam's nonsense, but he didn't draw. She didn't get it. She stood there, too confused to act.

"Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam..." Ellen was babbling as she knelt down beside the gunslinger. Sam was whispering something to her. There was blood everywhere. She started first aid, and injected him with a sedative.

*click*

Sandra drew the hammer back on her weapon, "get away from him, Ellen."

Ellen Cranby ignored her.

"Ellen, step back or I'll spray your brains all over Sam's body."

Ellen pulled a coagulant injector out of the little first aid kit she carried on her belt, under her cloak.

Keening with rage, Sandra kicked Ellen in the shoulder. Ellen fell over sideways into the dust.

Sandra knelt over Sam's body.

"Vulture!" Ellen snarled at the revolver aimed at her. She watched as Sandra pulled Sam's guns out of their holsters and jammed them under her belt.

"That's how it goes! He'd have taken mine! That's how it goes!" Sandra stood and turned towards the buggy. She holstered her pistol. Without looking back at Ellen, she called out, stepping into the buggy, "he didn't draw, Ellen. The moron didn't draw." The buggy sped off.

Ellen wasn't paying attention. She knelt over Sam's body and tried her best
to stop the bleeding.

Friday, June 12, 2009

What is the sound of no guns firing?

So I just helped my ex-girlfriend rob the payroll train, and now she has a gun pulled on me; I should probably be feeling surprised, but really I'm more confused than anything else. It just all seems so... complicated. "Did you really need all these people, Sandra?" I ask, not really expecting an answer. "You probably could've done it with just two others, why involve everyone else if you were only planning to shoot them afterwards?"

Sandra's calling me naive, and an idiot, and a whole lot worse, but I can see the Old Woman of the Desert kneeling over the dead henchmen and nodding at me. {Would have been simpler to do it like that, boy, but there's something even simpler, isn't there.} I know I'm hallucinating, but this is nothing like those months I spent high on painkillers and alcohol. This feels right.

I try to work it out. "Wouldn't... wouldn't it have been simpler to just get work that makes you happy, instead of wasting all this time and energy on overly complicated plans?"

Sandra's waving her gun at me and yelling something about how I'm nothing more than a tool and how the money's all hers, but I can hardly hear her above the Old Woman's whisper: {And there's something even simpler than that, isn't there? Wouldn't it be simpler to just be?}

Suddenly the Old Woman's gone and Sandra tunes back in and everything seems so damn clear and so painfully loud I can barely stand it.

"When I met you, you were just a delusional hick, Sam! I turned you into a killer! I made you, and then you abandoned me for that lame-ass caravan of yours." The gun stays trained on me while she rants, but I'm not afraid. For the first time since I got shot in Malachi Flats, I'm not afraid. I can hear her pistol breathing; its breaths are my breaths.

"I made you, and now I'm going to unmake you!" she spits out.

It's true.

Faster than she can see, faster than I've ever moved before, faster than thought, I shape my hand like a gun and point it at her head. But really I'm pointing it at mine, aren't I?

"Bang," I say. But I can't hear myself above her gunshot, and then I'm falling, and then Ellen's there. Turns out she was always there, I just didn't notice.

"Oh, hey El, you're getting blood on your face. Let me get it." She's freaking out, and I'm just making the mess worse, so I stop.

"I'm... fine, El." It's getting kind of hard to breathe, but this seems important, so I push the words out. "This is... way better than... the last time... I got shot." I try to chuckle, but it comes out more like a gurgle. Then she injects me with something, and


 
Hermes 72 - Heavy Gear RPG - Most artwork Copyright 2002 Dream Pod 9, Inc.