Preparations 1

"Alright people, listen up," Kelly's sous-sergeant voice rang out in the open space between all the Longrunner trucks, "we've got a full week ahead of us," she looked around at the assembled caravan crew, her gray-eyed gaze settling on each of them for a moment: just long enough to leave an impression. It was a talent well-honed on this crew.

"A really tough, long week. I'll read out the roster assignments and you'll get to work ASAP."

Everyone fidgeted. Ari scratched himself and grunted.

"Brom, you're on trucks. Same goes for Trishaw," everyone knew Kelly meant business when she addressed the crew by their last names. It meant that she alphabetized and categorized the list on the datapad she now held in her hand, "Imashen, you'll be helping them."

"Knox, get your medical supplies in order. You'll be liasing with Jarlson's people to establish a casualty collection point."

"Mendelbaum, you'll be prepping gears. I don't know how many of ours will be involved, but you had best get them all stocked, fueled and ready to roll."

Kelly looked down at her datapad and nodded, "Meredine, you'll be doing some optimizing on the Spit. Link the rocket packs. Then see if you can't scrounge us up a Target Designator for the Iggy."

Natty nodded, taking down notes on her own electronic notebook.

"Trishaw, once you and Brom are done trucks, go help Mendelbaum."

Then Kelly took a deep breath and read off her list: "Cantor, Dragushan, Meredine, Nandy, Pearce, you'll be doing small unit infiltration techniques and some range time with me," she looked at Prabal Nandy while tried not to sneer, "joy."

"You've got your chores. Meet me back here in ten minutes for some calisthenics," Kelly LeBeaux frowned. Everyone departed.

Everyone but Prabal Nandy.

"Er, excuse me, Kelly," he began, nervously looking over his shoulder as he approached her, "I think you made a mistake."

"Oh?" that statement brought an eyebrow up. Kelly was already checking another list on her datapad, and hadn't yet looked up at Prabal.

"Yeah, er...you want me to do infiltration tactics and ... calisthenics? Range time? With you guys?" Prabal didn't know if he should be terrified, indignant or possibly flattered.

"No," Kelly began, still looking down at her work, "I don't want you anywhere near a firing range, Nandy. But Delacroix thinks that you might be useful on this job, so if he decides to take you along, I figure you had better not get me killed," Kelly's angry eyes were leveled at Prabal.

"..." the hapless computer hacker was in over his head.

"What the fuck do you want, Nandy?"

"Do I get to carry a shotgun? I think I'd like a shotgun." Prabal was in over his head, but he didn't know it yet.

"Oh fuck me," Kelly growled. Then she stomped off.

---------

The plan called for a small fleet of trucks to be loaded with explosives. It made perfect sense to her. There was some hair-brained plan to use trucks with ramps built over top of them as a way of driving trucks over the walls too, but that didn't concern her.

No, Avatanya Brom's only job was to rig trucks to explode. It was strange, she thought, that she had never actually done this before. The last time she drove a truck like this, someone else had rigged the charges. They didn't go off, thus sparing her life as she collided with a CEF convoy truck during the Battle of Baja.

She chuckled as she worked on the detonator of the first truck that was delivered to her. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. She thought back to Emil Brahms, the other Regulator with any real demolitions experience. When he heard Avatanya's story, he nodded sagely, and then calmly explained why the charges had failed to fire.

"I should have cold-cocked him right there," she mumbled to herself. Instead, Avatanya had listened intently: professional interest. It was entirely rational to know why she had lived. It meant that if it were to come to suicide trucks again, there'd be no misfires. Entirely rational, back then, in the aftermath of the War.

"I've gone soft," Avatanya shook her head ruefully.

"Yeah, I bet you have," a gruff male voice replied.

A scowl already formed across her face, "Carmichael, didn't expect you to be here yet," she said without looking up from her work.

Carmichael leaned on his cane, looking over the collection of trucks small and large. He grunted and wordlessly walked over to a lawn chair near one of the trucks. There was a little twinkle in his eye as he considered making trouble with Avatanya. But there was real work to be done. He took out a small portable computer and double-checked the designs he had drawn up. Ramps on the backs of trucks. He shook his head and smiled. This was his sort of plan.

09 October 2008 Showdown

"I tell you, I've never seen anything quite like it." Malone spoke earnestly; his wide-eyed expression communicating more fully the incredulity he felt.

"We came out of the meeting with them, and the saloon was deserted. I mean empty. Not closed. Cleared out in a hurry, food-still-on-the-stove, drinks-in-glasses-on-the-tables empty. Bushwhacked. Delacroix and his crew, they seemed to know what was up immediately. All he says is, 'You didn't leave a guard outside? Us neither. Oh well.' That's what he said. 'Oh well.' Like, 'I left the fan on. Oh well.' Or, 'Left the lights in the car on. Oh well.' And then it got crazier.

"Two of 'em, the doctor fellow and the dirty one with the huge knife, they went to check out the back. I swear on the grave of my mother, all we heard was shootin', yellin', the crash of bodies, and explosions-- What? Yes, explosions, as in multiples thereof. We heard that stuff, saw some smoke, and then they came back, covered in blood, blackened by smoke, and, may the Prophet strike me down if I lie, literally peppered with shrapnel. Sticking out of their armour, all over 'em.

"And if that...if that weren't enough, while that was happenin' out back, in front, that crazy sumbitch with the revolvers, he's outside facing off against four of them. I couldn't hear much of what they were saying, but what I did hear din't make no sense. Tarmalin, that's his name. He's talkin' and talkin', and suddenly there's a shot. I didn't know at the time, but Tarmalin shot their leader, Bill West, a cold hombre if I ever met one, square in the face from all the way across the road. I didn't get close enough to tell, but I think Delacroix said he shot West through the mouth. Blew the back of his head out. There were some other shots, and then Delacroix charged out, hefted an LMG out of their truck, and opened up. He cut one of them off at the legs. You remember Sonnegan? Like that. Stitched across the knees. Tarmalin killed another, while under fire from Green's sniper, and then Delacroix fed a couple of bursts up onto the roof and it was over. Four of them, totally bushwhacked, and they took out all 7 of Green's top men.

"With no casualties. Tarmalin took one in the shoulder, but otherwise they were untouched.

"When Chambers first sketched in his crackpot ideas, and Delacroix started going on about paragliders, I thougt their whole portion of this op was gonna be a wash. Cracker-jack nutjobs don't belong in the field with senseible folks. But after watching this...being there...well, it puts a bit of a different perspective on it.

"I guess what I mean is, there is no doubt that these guys are crazy. But hell, crazy like a fox."

02 October 2008 Medical Log

MEDICAL LOG
Dr T. Chambers
TN 1919, S35

>RECORD<
(Sigh)Attack on caravan compound by mortar fire, two wounded one fatality. KIA: Pankat, Loran, 22…just 22 cycles. Fatal trauma from propelled secondary explosive materials. Probable cause of death was blood loss from multiple points of entry, notably, right carotid artery. He didn’t suffer. At least, that’s what I told his sister. Patient: Lin, Tessa, 18 cycles…Some minor lacerations and haematomas, minor displacement of the femoral, braced with splint and topical dermal trauma treated with standard sealant. She’ll be fine, maybe a bit freaked, but she’s from Baja, she’ll be fine. Patient: Smit, Peter, 52 cycles. Peter took major shrapnel wounds, perforation of the kidney, left lung which subsequently collapsed broken humerus, dislocated right shoulder with possible rotator cuff lateral tear, Right tibia compound open fracture with associated nervous and veinous damage. I’ve splinted the fractures, Knox and I managed to inflate the lung and derma-staple the affected internal organs. I started him up on an IV of anticoagulants to prevent clotting...goddamit it was close! I am so out of practice…Personal note: start working on your damned field surgery skills again doctor.

>RECORD<
Additional. Medical File update for patient Salome. Tendon and ligament damage to right hand. Complete loss of use, given the extent of the trauma, conventional plastic reattachment will be futile, full re-growth candidate. Though I hope no one bothers with the bitch.

Medical File update for patient Voneran, Gade. Open subfile on ICD-10 code F19. Found stimulants in his bunk confirming suspicion I’ve had for some time now. He has displayed a psychotic break characterised by anhedonia and severe apathy. Possible atypical personality defect or traumatic relapse. Personal note: Kain thinks he’s feeling displaced guilt, which seems like a pretty good assessment, not suprisingly though, he does have the insight in to the mind of a sociopath. I guess I do have to beef up my psychiatry after all.

A Bloodless Coup

Somewhere in the Westridge Range...

Medalev sighed with some satisfaction. His rag-tag band of men - human troopers and GREL soldiers alike, hovertanks, hover-APCs, some trucks - were now slowly picking their way through the mountains. After the mountains, it was the accursed dune seas of the Barrington Basin. But in the Basin: WestBase, the rendezvous point for all stranded CEF personnel on Terranova.

"It's gonna get worse before it gets better," Major Medalev grunted to himself. He looked at the detail of Mordreds trying to un-stick one of the column's trucks. Each of them was over 300 pounds of pure muscle, gristle and bone. They fumbled over the lever and nearly tipped the entire truck over onto its side. The Jan GREL supervising them started yelling loudly.

"No brains," Medalev grimaced from the top of the APC.

"Sir!" Upton was pointing from the other hatch. Medalev turned from the GRELs and followed Upton's finger. He saw a party of about a half-dozen, all on foot, picking their way through the rocks above the column, heading towards it.

"Shit," Medalev had raised his binoculars for a closer look, and then lowered them in disgust. They were almost certainly CEF stragglers. The last thing Medalev, or anyone in this convoy, needed were more mouths to feed. No matter how much he hated himself for it though, Medalev wasn't going to turn them away. The poor major, however, was in for a rude surprise.

-----

"Major Medalev," the squat, dark-skinned woman in CEF fatigues saluted in a manner far too crisp for the major's liking, "I am Captain Cecilia Lysanov, 4th tier commissar of the New Earth Commonwealth."

Lysanov paused, letting her voice ring out a bit in the mountains. The entire column had come to a halt when the six stragglers arrived. When Captain Lysanov insisted on presenting her credentials to an assembly of officers and non-commissioned officers, Medalev began regretting not scaring the Captain and what was clearly her bodyguard off with a burst of machinegun fire.

"Captain, I am Major Medalev, Colonial Expeditionary Force. This is my command, the 170th Battle Group," Medalev swallowed hard. The 170th was perhaps the size of a company, not a battle group.

Lysanov looked around at the assembled humans and GRELs, nodded sharply and continued, "Major, I have orders here from the New Earth Commonwealth," she spoke loudly. She knew what she was about to say would be grossly unpopular among the survivors here, "they have instructed me to rendezvous with your command and present you with new orders. You are to stop making your way to WestBase immediately."

There was silence. Lysanov's face was stonelike. If she was worried that she'd be shot immediately, she didn't show it. Medalev frowned, finger twitching slightly. This was the only indication of what he was contemplating: mutiny and treason. The weight of his service pistol seemed heavy on his belt, suddenly.He let his eyes scan the assembled men. He knew they were tired, hungry and angry for being abandoned. But he didn't know how things would play out if he shot this commissar.

Judging by the looks of her men, I know that I'd get killed right off. Medalev's brow furrowed. Lysanov was still stoic. He considered the fact that it would be a tragedy to have survived the landing at Baja, only to get gunned down by some Party shirt's goons. Another moment passed.

"Captain Lysanov, the 170th Battle Group stands ready to serve the Party and the New Earth Commonwealth," Major Medalev saluted crisply.

For now, at least.

Repercussions

Tessa and Karin were already asleep. Josephina, Kelly, Ellen and Avatanya were on duty. Natalia Meredine lugged her duffel bag into the girls' bunk room and found an empty cot. She sat down quietly and then let the bag slide through her knees until it hit the floor with a quiet thump. Natty sat there for a moment, her heart pounding in her throat, her eyes red with tears.

I can't believe he did that. I can't believe it. He's not like that. He's not like that.

She started crying again, sobbing as quietly as she could to avoid waking the two girls.

In the darkness of the room, Karin and Tessa looked at each other with wide eyes, adolescent fear mixed with morbid curiosity.

------

The next morning, Natty sat on the roof of the Hang Out, watching the sun rise. She alternately sipped and cradled a cup of cawfee, trying to do her best to keep from crying. She heard the roof hatch open, but didn't look over her shoulder to see who was coming up.

"Mornin'," Avatanya's voice was gruff as usual.

"Mornin'," came the reply.

"Noticed you took up the bunk in our room last night. How long you planning on staying, Natty?"

There was no reply for a while as Avatanya sat down beside Natty, her feet dangling over the front edge of the cargo bay roof. Natty drew her knees up to her chest.

"I guess for a while."

"Alright. Just curious, cuz, well, if you snore..."

Natty smiled, caught a little off guard, "I only talk in my sleep. In Equitorial Hispanic."

"Oh, nice. My late husband used to mumble in Indo-Arabic in his sleep."

"Was he a Revisionist?"

"No. I don't think he knew how to speak Indo-Arabic neither."

Natty chuckled, sipping on her cawfee. Avatanya didn't speak. She soaked in the early morning sun.

"Av...what...what is it with all you Baja veterans?" Natty began, choking back tears.

"You mean, why is it we're the most screwed up bunch of head-cases this planet has ever seen?" Avatanya's tone was genial, but her demeanor was serious.

"I guess. I mean, Sam didn't fight at Baja..."

"No, but all the other Regulators did, and they're all messed up. Josephina's still waiting for hovertanks to jump out of the alleys in Khayr-ad Din. Ari pukes like a faucet whenever he sees a burned out Caiman wreck. Knox donates half his pay to whatever Revisionist charity, just for doing his job right with us. Think of how many he couldn't save at Baja. And ever notice how Kain is around the street kids in town?"

Natty nodded.

"Look, whatever happened with Gade last night," Avatanya began, then paused and was thoughtful before continuing, "well...no, you don't have to forgive it. But you have to understand it. It's guilt. Survivor's guilt. Every Regulator here...all we do, all the time, is try to live with our guilt. We lived through the worst meat-grinder in our history, but all our friends, all our enemies...they didn't. They bought it. Most of us end up turning their guilt into something else. Sometimes it's harmless, sometimes not."

"Why? I mean, you all went in knowing the risks. Why the guilt? You don't have to be religious to feel good about having a second chance," Natty frowned, grasping at the notion being put forth here.

Avatanya nodded as she swallowed hard, "we do feel good about having a second chance. I know I do, and I wanted to kill myself and as many GRELs as I could. But it takes time for people to go from point A to point B like that. Look at how Gade fought Salome. Almost exactly like how he fought Torch. He was sloppy, dirty and desperate. He's loaded out for short and medium range fighting, and the kid keeps on charging in to get messy. He's reckless because of the guilt. He was never trained, and he's only fighting on instinct. And all that guilt and shame is feeding that instinct. "

"Shame?" Natty smirked, "Gade doesn't know shame."

"What? Sure he does. He was part of the Green Gang. They do some nasty things. But did Gade try to stop any of it?"

Natty shook her head, comprehension coming to her as Helios' rays cleared the Westridge Range's mountains.

"That's right. He only left the gang when they were gunning for him. And ever since then, he's been working off the debt he feels he owes everyone on this planet," Avatanya frowned sagely.

"How do you know all this, Av?"

An image flashed in Avatanya's mind: her three children dead, murdered in front of her. She had frozen and hadn't saved them. She put a hand on Natty's shoulder and smiled. It was the smile of someone who had embraced the second chance she had been given. She shook her head.

"Doesn't matter. You don't have to forgive him. You don't have to go back to him. But you have to try to understand what he's going through," Avatanya stood and headed back down into the Hang-Out.

Only when the older woman had disappeared into the truck did Natty put her head in her hands and began to cry.

Vindication

Last Night

Gade walked into his room more tired then he thought. Natty's stuff was already gone, no surprises there. 'Just as well' he thought, 'maybe now she'll make her own friends in the group'. Having taken off his overalls, he found himself washing some of the blood and grease from his hands. No matter how much he cleaned off though, it all still felt there,

dirty...

disgusting... 

"WHY THE FUCK DO I ALWAYS SURVIVE!" Water bowl flung across the room, tools hurled at the mirror until it shattered. Now laying in the corner, knees to his chest Gade felt tears running along his temple as his head lay lifeless on the floor. "How do I survive? When will it be over? When will I get to rest?...

Asleep now, Gade was left in the corner, among the debris. Silent...

The Next Morning

Waking up with a groan as the sun hit him in the face, Gade brushed some of the strewn glass off his arm. He must have rolled over it in the night. 'Well, time to meet the Spider' he thought, picking himself up, 'let's see if he has anything I can do' and off he went, another day of distractions, another day of living.

Little to do with nothing

Three Weeks Ago...

"Hear that Tessa, that sucking sound once the turbocharger starts to spool? That's what we wanna hear." Gade and Tessa had been working on Gun's engine for nearly 3 hours. Even Natty had given up for the night and headed for bed. Tessa still wanted to learn more, and Gade of course was only too happy to teach. "The fan could use a little tightening, but don't over do it, it needs to run lose or the bolt will snap."

"So why is it worth putting such a big engine on Gun anyway?"

"Oh a few reasons: more torque means the engine can be pushed a little harder. Also, the adaptable armor Carmichael wants to add will weigh a bit more, but the bigger engine can carry said weight; not to mention the Ram Plate."

Tessa was listening enthusiastically, her liking all things mechanical was uncanny.

"Wait, that's gonna be too tight!"

CRUNCH!

"Oops..." Tessa had overtightened the bolt holding the fan in place, cracking the whole thing.

"Awesome... Now I'm gonna be here half the night finding a replacement that'll fit an engine this big. See, this is why I told you not to over do it."

"Sorry Gade, it was just an accident. You know I wouldn't do it on purpose..."

"Bah it's my fault for letting you kids around my engine..."

Suddenly feeling unwanted Tessa up and left. She could feel a few tears welling up, but they weren't for Gade to see, not that night, anyway.

---

A Few Days Later

"Hey Gade!"

thunk

Karin snuck up behind Gade, and in response to her greeting his head thumped right into a piece or armor. "Tessa still isn't feeling better so she won't be working with you today."

"Again? That's 2 days in a row," Gade shrugged it off and kept working, "Hopefully she'll feel better soon," Gade felt Karin's cold stare. Apparently he had struck a nerve.

"You know Gade, I'll always believe you've got the best intentions at heart, but you sure can be an idiot at times. She'll feel better as soon as you apologize."

"Apologize, what did I do?"

"You bit her head off for tightening a bolt or something... she was really upset Gade. Look she didn't want me to say anything but I want both of you happy."

"Well I suppose I should have a talk with her, and no, I'll not mention us talking Karin," Putting down his tools, Gade got up from under Gun and started cleaning up. "but tell me this Karin, are you always gonna be this good to me?"

"Well yeah, I already told you, you're a good guy, no matter what they say."

"Heh" Gade shrugged, starting to head towards the Hang-Out. "I may have to hold you to that Kar..." With that Karin was left with Gun, she wasn't really sure what to make of Gade's last comment. 'Probably just Gade being Gade,' she thought.

From the Diary of Tessa Lin, 35 Summer, TN1919

That gala was cool, but I can't believe how cool it's been to be a mechanic on a gear dueling team. So there's the four of us: Carmichael's this old dude with bad legs that knows engines. He worked for Paxton before the War, and he's always growling or shouting. Seriously, he needs to relax. Anyways, he's always on my case, but he's kinda funny. Natty is Gade's girlfriend. I guess they have something worked out, because she's way too hot for him, and she knows it. She does the electronics and the fire control systems for the gear. I guess she knows her stuff, because Carmichael yells at her less than he does at me. Next there's Peter. He's almost as old as Carmichael, but totally different. I mean, how is it that one guy's such a jerk, and the other guy's so shy? I don't get boys. Peter was this gear racer up North before the War. The Innsbruck Death Track 1000. Yeah. That's like, the big leagues. So he spends most of his time teaching Gade how to duel, but he's really helpful with the rest of us. And then there's me! I guess I do a little bit of everything. There's so much to do, and even more to know. Yesterday Gun lost an arm and a leg in a duel, and now I'm learning about internal structures. Natty wants me to go to school in Peace River so I can ... how'd she put it? "Take everything you've learned here and make some money with it." I help with the gear, doing all sorts of things, like fixing armour, and welding knuckle spikes back on. And I figured out how to beef up the gear's legs. No more pressure juice problems for Gade! I still have to figure out how to fix engines like Carmichael though. He's scary good.

I guess I should say that Gade's doing pretty well. I think he's holding up ok, but everyone can see how worried he is about Natty when she's not looking. I guess when she fell at the gala she wasn't drunk, but no one's saying anything to me about it. I'm just a little girl, right? Grrr. But Gade's doing good in the tournament. He only lost one match, and he's got one more. We just got some spare parts last night...ok, so we just got a new Tiger that we're going to use for spare parts. I think Kain's coming back with some booze. Guess who won't be able to have any? I hate having to travel in groups of four, with a radio all the time. Doesn't Kain remember that I was living in Baja during the War? I don't care how bad those Green Gang Goobers are, they're not CEF.

Oh! Gotta go! We're gonna cut up a Tiger leg and stick it on Gun! Then we gotta do an arm. Maybe Gade'll be more careful tomorrow. But probably not.