Tigger and Green

At the Battle of Baja, TN1917...

"Sergeant," Captain Bell saluted and then nodded. It was early morning, and B-Company's commander had actually managed a two-hour sleep. It was a well-earned luxury out in the hills surrounding the CEF-held city of Baja. The Bad Boys of B-Company would be going into the thick of it today, having spent the last two days hiking in their gears, getting into position to flank a major CEF outpost.

"Good morning Cap'n," the young mechanic replied quietly. He had slept an hour. Tigger had needed some major work. But the mechanic was certain he had done his job right.

Tigger was the Sabertooth Heavy Gear that Bell drove. A command variant of the Tiger heavy trooper gear, Tigger was fast, lethal and well-protected. Extra armour around the cockpit was standard for the Sabertooth. That was good, since Captain Bell led from the front. His only request was that his gear be tended to with extra care.

"Rough night Sergeant?" Bell looked positively radiant compared to the scruffy mechanic. Neither man had shaved or bathed in over three weeks, "I suppose you'll be able to get your rest soon enough. Let's see what Tigger says."

"You betcha, Captain," replied the mechanic. He had already started up the gear's APU and was running one last diagnostic. He scratched his chin, tugging at the whiskers there. He'd have to shave, despite the sand and the fatigue. Didn't Vasquez have a solar powered trimmer?

Bell climbed into Tigger's cockpit and fired up the engines. He plugged into the communications system.

"She's purring like a kitten. Good job, sergeant."

"Thank you sir. It was nothing."

"That's probably a lie. There's something waiting for you at the PX after you get a bit of shut-eye," Bell's voice was even, but he certainly appreciated how much work went into getting a gear that had been through three weeks of cross-country travel ready for a crucial assault. Other gear engines were starting up in the distance, "gotta get moving Sergeant. See you on the flip side."

"Sir, I still don't know what that means."

"That's alright Sergeant," Bell chuckled as Tigger began loping towards the rally point, "neither do I!"

The mechanic watched as the Sabertooth half-skated and half-prowled around a bend. Tigger had been doing that before he had been assigned to the gear. He shook his head. No one could explain why the neural net insisted on that sloppy start, and only after maintenance work had been done. Captain Bell insisted that at all other times Tigger responded with 'great bounce.'

"Hey Sergeant, where's my gear?"

"Oh, hi Lieutenant Green," the mechanic turned to see the sneering face of the company's XO, "she's right over here." The Mauler Bear, an anti-GREL machine loaned to the Bull Dogs for the assault, was under a camouflage tarp.

"You got her ready?" Green sneered, "I've got lots of work to do today."

"Everything checks out sir. Good hunting."

Green Anton nodded.

All we ever do is talk: Part 3

Ellen was busy at work. Between the tournament, the Badlands Caravan Guild and the new confounded Casino idea, she was swamped in paper work. She heard the office door chime and looked up as Konnor came striding in. He flashed her his patented smile and a wave of his hand. But before she had time to speak Tom was out from his office and by her side. She frowned. She never got to have any fun.

"Konnor!" the Doc began, "good timing! Come on in. Ellen drop whatever you’re doing."

'Sure,' Ellen thought, standing while managing to stifle a sigh, 'it's just your work anyway.'

She and Konnor entered the Doctor's office. It was a little less sparse now that a number of trinkets and ornaments from various sponsors adorned the shelves and walls. Bill Pearce was sitting in a chair opposite Tom's desk. Ellen sat on the couch with Konnor and took out her electronic note pad and stylus. Tom pulled his chair from around the desk and scooted up close to them next to Bill. Before speaking he surveyed the faces around him.

"I’m leaving town for a while and I need you all to hold the fort," Doc Chambers began, "Bill, the caravan is pulling out of Khayr-ad Din by week's end. Right now it’s our second best recruiting tool and I need you to keep doing what you've been doing until we pulled into this trash heap. Talk to caravaners, homesteaders and clans and get them onboard. You guys will be moving a bit. Ben and Avatanya will be in charge of destinations, but wherever you go, you are the diplomatic corps. Keep the message alive in my absence Bill." Tom slapped Bill on the back. The young man and the Doc had gotten pretty close since Bill had been shot. Ellen swallowed hard and kept taking notes.

"Which brings us to our number one publicity device," Tom turned to Konnor who had the good sense to realize that the Doc was talking about him, "I would just like to congratulate you, Konnor, on another great score yesterday in the dueling tournament. You are doing wonders for the BCG. Why, Ellen can barely keep up with the applications and the ballots for the Neil Motor Works prize."

Ellen smirked. She was keeping up just fine. The Doc continued:

"I need you to do me a favour Konnor. Whatever happens in the tournament, I need you to represent the BCG next week when we draw the winner for the Longrunner. I spoke with the NMW rep and some of the Spider's people, and we're all doing a hoopla just before the end of this series. Will you do it?”

Konnor shifted a bit in the Barnaby-leather couch. "Uh Doc, I can do the thing, that’s no big deal, but I got a question: if the caravan is moving out, um, well I hate to seem ungrateful but..."

Tom waived him off and stopped him from stammering.

"I’m sorry Konnor, I’m going about this all backwards. First things last and all. I’ve just finish a lease deal with the Spider’s midget today: we have a place for you and the Cardanos to set up shop to continue working on your gear. Trust me, you’ll find it a bit roomier than sharing the Cave with Gade and Carmichael. In fact, you will be kind of christening it." Doc Chambers smiled at Konnor's confused look. It wasn't that Konnor was stupid. It was just that he had other things on his mind nearly all the time. All the logistics that the Doc was so good at didn't come easily to Konnor at all. But that's what Hector Cardano and his son Leon were for.

"You see, this is a gear bay capable of housing a score of gears, it will be the base of our duelist-themed casino. The high rollers'll come to gamble where the Duelists work on their gears and carouse. It’s actually just outside my window here, right next to this tower."

Tom was up now and pointing out of the office window. Konnor just smiled.

"Doc, you guys are too nice. And just think, if I hadn't scrounged up Gade's big ol' revolver like that out in the Maze, we'd have never met." Konnor chuckled as he followed Tom's finger to a little patch of free space in the Core, "alright, sure, me and Hector and Leon...we can handle that sort of thing."

Tom sat back down and looked smug. He turned his attention to Ellen and some of his joviality waned. She was sitting crossed legged, her arms crossed, with an accusing brow raised right at Tom. He cleared his throat and tried to regain a cool disposition.

"Ellen, I need..."

"Save it Doctor Chambers," Ellen used Tom's full title to denote just how nonplussed she was. "I’m not going to stay here alone while you take Sam to run off somewhere and the Caravan leaves town. What am I supposed to do in Khayr-ad Din alone? I didn’t sign up for this."

"Ellen, please." Bill and Konnor did their best to admire the scenery.

"No." Ellen had learned much from the other strong female caravan members.

"But Ellen, no one else-" the Doc began.

"Take as much crap from you," she interjected, "I know" pause, "I told you before, I don’t work for you."

"Ellen," the Doc knew that he wasn't going to get any help from Bill.

"Save it, I’m sorry," she said flatly, "I don’t want to make a scene Doctor."

"Guys, will you step outside just a minute?" Tom breathed out slowly, "Konnor stick around. I want to show the place."

Bill and Konnor left the room with obvious relief and closed the office door behind them. Ellen sat resolute, her position was the same, her body language was unmistakable.

"Actually, Ellen," Tom began, "you work for the caravan and the lines are pretty blurred where that ends and where the Guild begins. We all have our roles, for some of us like Jo and Pete that means taking bullets. I can’t do much more for them, but they are staying here in town under medical supervision and that means someone has to stay here with them. I am taking Sam on a little trip to try and see what I can do to shake him out of the funk that has lingered over him since we got here. I am also going to go and take care of a personal matter and try and make up for a very big mistake I made at the expense of the woman I hope will forgive me and spend the rest of her days with me. But the larger picture is that the Guild needs to be stable here for a while and the Casino is still in its fledgling phase. I need you to do your part and allow me to do mine. I need you to stay here with the wounded and maintaining this base of the organization that Bill is going out there to help build. Will you do that for the caravan if not for me?"

Ellen didn’t make eye contact with Doctor Chambers. The edge in his voice, the switch from his exited cheery disposition to the stern paternal figure that chastised her sense of devotion made her shy away from his eyes. She thought he was being selfish at first, but it was about duty. It was always about duty. He was doing his and she had to do hers. She simply nodded, and he didn’t say anything as he left.

All we ever do is talk: Part 2

Kain sat on the sandy desert soil. The sky was dark, save where stars twinkled and the points on the horizon where Khayr-ad Din shone brightly and the caravan compound eeked out a faint glow. He breathed deeply, slowing his heart rate. He tried to feel the earth beneath him and the energy which traveled from the core of the world to the point in his center. He could hear Koldur’s voice clearly in his head:

"Feel the strength from the sands fill you. Become that strength."

As his senses expanded in the martial art-induced meditative state, he was aware of the approach of two men long before he could hear the soft sound of sand shifting under feet. He opened his eyes, un-alarmed as he knew who to expect. Tom dropped down in front of him, a smile barely discernible on his face in the dark. As he sat, from behind the doctor, appeared Ben. Taking a cue from his guide he sat next to Tom facing Kain.

"Thanks for coming out Ben," Kain began, "the Doc and I wanted a bit of privacy to discuss things."

"And here I thought you were going to whack me," came Ben’s soft reply.

"Benjamin, if I killed you, I would be depriving myself of the pleasure of watching you suffer through each day knowing I am right and you are wrong."

"About what Kain?"

"Uh, everything? I thought that would be obvious by now."

"Kain what you consider to be self-evident is the product of your own delusional narcissism, not reason. As such, only you can perceive this constructed world in which you claim to be right." Ben's retort had a hint of pontification in it.

Tom interjected before Kain could reply: "Gentlemen, I am not a sufficient audience for you both to begin yet another ideological demolition derby."

"Very well Doctor, we’ll come to the point. Ben, Tom and I are going away for a short while."

"We’re taking Sam and Gade with us to." Tom threw in. Kain continued.

"Avatanya will be running the day-to-day operations of the caravan while we are gone; you guys are hitting the road again. I need you to look into the names on that list while you are out there."

Ben nodded sagely; there was gravity in Kain’s voice as he mentioned the list.

"Ok, is that it?" said Ben.

Kain just looked at him through the dark before Tom spoke up.

"Yeah, that’s it. You and Avatanya work out the route together. We already told her to defer to you on all questions of navigation and scheduling. You should also know that Bill will be speaking to you to know where the caravan is going."

"When are we moving?" Ben asked.

"Just as soon as we hand over the Sedated Six to the Marshall after tomorrow," said Kain, who paused before adding, "I don’t need to tell you just what-"

"No Kain, if there is someone you don’t have to have to explain anything to, it’s me," Ben cut in quickly.

It was only when Tom felt the mandatory ominous silence between the two old "friends" had made a sufficiently dramatic mark on everyone present, that he finally spoke. "Gentlemen, I think we could all use a drink."

All we ever do is talk: Part 1

“Kain, I need to get back to New Baja.” Doc Chambers started without preamble. He and Delacroix had been sitting in lawn chairs observing an impromptu ball game that had sucked in a dozen members of the caravan crew. In spite of urging by Karin and Tessa, the newly-dubbed R/C twins, Kain and Tom were quite content to sit it out and play the role of referee on an occasional call.

It was the day following the assault on the Green compound and spirits were running both high and liberally depending on the sport. At the moment, the two spectators were imbibing their spirits along with ice and a tropical Southern fruit juice.

“You know part of why I have to go," the Doc continued, "and you could guess at the rest. I need to talk to Dunn face-to-face and settle some accounts. I also need to talk to Julie.”

“About the casino?” Kain asked before taking a long draft of his beverage. The Doc gave him a non-committal look and Kain just smiled. “Ok, I can’t begrudge you your taste Tom, she is quite the woman.”

Tom smiled somewhat sheepishly from behind his glass, drips of condensation beading down. The moment came and went as a furrow creased his brow.

“I want to take Sam with me, keep him busy you know; maybe a change of scenery will do him some good. Come to think of it, I might suggest that even Gade might want to come?” Tom had fixed his gaze on Natty by this point. The young woman was running to catch a long ball, hands extended.

Kain just looked at his partner for a moment and then let it pass. “Hell doctor, I think I could use a vacation too. Let’s go get out of the sun in New Baja”

23 October 2008 Flying yellow death from above.

Ms. Elira Nandy
Suite 302, Colbrook way.
Badlands Quarter, Peace River.

Fall 5, TN 1919

Dear Mother,

Though I will always be your son, I write you now as a man. Today I stand a little taller, a little prouder. I know that I am more than what I was before and for the first time I don’t know my limits.

Like many great men and woman of our generation, I have now been tempered in the fires of pitched battle. I experience my own personal Baja yesterday.

I told you about the troubles we’ve had, attacked on end by rovers and rogue gears; well it has all been orchestrated by a disaffected tyrant by the name of Green Anton. This puke has been after us since we got to town and it wasn’t plain bullying, he was out for blood.

Well yesterday we showed him. I am man enough to admit I had some reservations when Kain Delacroix, our leader, picked me to join the assault team, but you should have heard the speech. It wasn’t for me, it was for everyone else. He told them all he had faith in me, that I was going to make them proud.

We were a special infiltration unit, part of a greater all-out assault on Green by a mixed force of paraglider commandos, mercenary gear units and infantry. Green was held up in a fire base, confident in his bastion. We had to go in and root the coward out.

We entered through a secret tunnel but soon were in danger of being uncovered and the whole plan would have fallen apart. It was all up to me to save the entire attack. Kain and I heard an approaching sentry drone, as the others pulled back he and I deftly climbed to the ceiling and held in silent wait for our prey. Kain dropped behind it to attach the fiber optic wire, while I managed, still clinging from the rafters, to pull the fastest hack ever and deactivate the drone while it was still moving. It was brilliant. Ever the quiet professionals, there was no time for self congratulation, we pushed on.

We entered the base in the gear and tank motor pool bays and split up. The Doc and his team stayed there to cover our retreat and disable as many gears as possible so they would be combat ineffective. Me and my team moved deeper into the heart of the base, straight to the command center to deal the critical blow.

This is when things got hairy Mom, this is where the men are separated from the boys and techno geeks from the warriors. The Paraglider commandos delivered their attack. Muffled whoomfs alerted us to their job well done. Then we took it up a notch: Mortar fire. Our support was pelting our enemy with mortar fire and finally the most brilliant bit of unconventional weaponry since the wooden horse, we flew in a tanker truck and dropped it on them like a giant incendiary bomb.

Using the main assault as a distraction we assaulted the command tower and surgically overtook their security room. Inevitably though, our luck ran out and we started meeting real resistance. Sam got pinned down in the cross-fire, but he was a constant hail of silent death from his pistols. I had taken up a strategic position out of fire, Kain was trying to get to a vantage position. Avatanya, who is mentally ill, blew up a perfectly good wall instead of using the doors to try and get around behind the enemy. A lot of grenades went off all over. I saw my life pass before my eyes and then Josephina was hit. Time slowed down but before I knew it, it was all over. Apparently Sam had used a large explosive called a satchel charge. It was a pitched battle. I saw Kain kill a man with the butt of his rifle. Blood lust can affect some of us like that in battle.

Meanwhile the Doc and team B came under fire and pulled back, they managed to skirt around the attacking force and come back up behind them, that’s called outflanking. A strategic mistake pitted them against 4 gears. Under normal circumstances they should have been finished, but Gade made a suicidal attack with another satchel charge to save his comrades. You know, I’ve heard about heroics, but when you get down to it, you just do what you gotta do to save the comrade next to you. I get that now. The Doc jumped into a gear and took out another opponent and Gade, still recklessly fighting against the laws of probabilities took on a rather large gear, a modern day David and Goliath.

I moved to the communication room and broke through the jamming so our main force could advance. We used remote guided axel-born explosive devices. That’s guerrilla warfare talk for car bombs with R/C. They were so demoralized when we started dropping big yellow dump truck of death from the sky on their heads! That is when they gave up.

Gade caught Green trying to escape in a gear and that is pretty much it. Today is another day, the beginning of the rest of my life. I know its hard to understand, I didn’t understand until I went through it, but there is a powerful bond that binds us together. I know I am now more than just part of the team, more than just their resident genius, I am now a brother.

I love you Mother.

Prabal

Preparations 2

"Alright, try it now!" Natalia called into the comm, a little frustrated.

There was a moment's hesitation and then a loud whoosh came from the Spitting Cobra's two rocket packs. They were firing in unison. This made Natalia very happy.

"Excellent!" Ari replied through the comm, "great work Natty."

"Thank you Mendelbaum," Natty smiled tightly to herself. The Spit's fire control system was rather cantankerous, and it took her a few hours to get the two rocket packs to talk to each other through the gear's neural net. Still, she noted that Kain would no longer be pestering her about linking the two rocket packs. That was something.

"Alright, I'm ready to try the designator," Sam's voice was eager in the Iguana.

"Copy that," Avatanya and Josephina were ready with the first guided shell for the caravan's heavy mortar, captured long ago in the final battle with the New Baja Gang.

"Oh man, it feels weird using this mortar," Sam rambled a bit. It was true. The two heavy mortars of the New Baja Gang had caused much havoc for the Regulators back in Baja. This would be the first time the weapon would be fired since its capture. "Target designated. Fire when ready."

Josephina and Avatanya nodded to each other, gently lifting the large shell into the breech of the mortar. Most mortars were fed from the muzzle, but this weapon was so large that it had a breech. Lifting a 45kg shell over your shoulders was deemed impractical by the Paxton team that designed the mortar so long ago. The two women backed away from the mortar and hid behind a low wall. The shell had been modified to hold a guidance chip and deploy fins for terminal guidance. Tampering with artillery was never a good idea. Josephina held the remote trigger.

"Firing!"

The mortar kicked down with a loud thump.

"Hey, guys, any day now. This is getting ... whoah." Sam stopped talking when the round impacted with a loud explosion.

"Well?" Avatanya asked.

"Hmm."

"Well?"

"What was I aiming for again?" Sam asked, "because, it's not here. Neither is the shack that used to be next to it. The designator works."

**********

Kain looked at his visitors with the skeptical look fathers tended to reserve for their children's more peculiar requests.

"Aww..." Tessa and Karin whined in unison, "but everyone else is busy! It's so boring! C'mon Kain, we can help!"

"I just think it's better if you stayed here with Peter, Ellen and the Imashen, just in case we need to get moving quickly," he replied.

"But...but..." Karin recovered first, "but we're better at it than anyone else in the whole caravan!"

That elicited a raised eyebrow from Kain, "really now?"

Both teenagers nodded solemnly.

Kain hit a button and spoke into a mic, "hey, Gade, what's the range on those R/C units you're putting into the trucks?"

There was a pause for a moment. Kain kept his eyes on the datapad he had been looking over until Gade replied.

"About 2km, give or take."

"And how many trucks do we have?"

"Three ramp trucks, and..." Gade paused as he checked with the rest of the crew working on the trucks, "a half dozen flyers."

"Thanks Gade. Your pilots should be there in about five minutes," Kain flipped the comm off and turned to the two girls, "under no circumstances are you to talk to any of the mercs unless there's an emergency. Once all the trucks are deployed, you are to take a jeep back to the caravan and wait with Ellen. If your position comes under fire, keep your heads down, crawl back to the jeep, and meet Ellen at the caravan. Wear medium flak. Take your sidearms. Do not use them unless you absolutely have to. Are we clear?"

"Crystal!" replied Tessa sharply. Karin nodded.

"Go."

No Stealth Suit Required

The Core tower radiated heat in the noonday sun. The central oasis tower rose up from the trash of Khayr-ad Din and anyone willing to suffer Helios' harsh rays was treated to a spectacular view of the ramshackle trash city from up on the observation deck. Sergeant Eric Grossman, formerly of Les Parachutistes Infanterie Maritimes 21ere Regiment, was braving the heat, gazing out onto the city below him.

"You know," Grossman talked to himself, a habit he picked up during the war, "we need a name. And we need a way into that base."

The paraglider assault was a key component of this scheme Kain and Doc Chambers cooked up. Grossman was being paid well, and that meant that his end of the bargain had to be upheld. The lack of a team name was also a problem. It bothered him that the six of them couldn't come up with a name. Especially since this would be their first airborne strike since the war. It wouldn't be right to go into battle without a unit name. He leaned back against the bench and squinted up into the sky.

"Wow, it's hot. What do they say? 'Mad Dawgs and Norlights go out into the noonday sun.'" Grossman chuckled. He supposed that made him a Norlight then. Before the war, the idea would have been insulting. Now it just made him laugh. He watched the daks circle high in the sky; the ambient temperature meant that the large flying lizards didn't have to flap their leathery wings - there were plenty of thermals to keep them afloat.

Grossman smiled. He just solved both his problems. He just had to get inside before his brain baked in this heat.

Mantra

Slow down.
Breath, breath, breath.
Concentrate on the breath and slow everything down.
Concentrate.
In, out, inhale, exhale.
Slower, slower, slower.
Focus and…squeeze.

Careful not to move, not to tense up, the action is over but it is one in a continuous flow.
I adjust my sights, I look closely, inspect the target area and see the contact.

----

Still breathing, I focus on the breath, on the action as a transient moment through which intent travels on the way to purpose. It is both its own end and a means to another end, like each breath it serves its purpose but is part of breathing which itself is just another part of a greater whole. A fractal image of cause and effect.

Inhale, exhale. In, out. The bolt slides in driving the 10 mm bullet into the breach and out as it slips back to locked position for firing. Smooth as breath, I do not falter, I do not strain, I focus on the target. Focus. Concentrate. Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale.

----

Slowly each movement flows like a concerto, each action a note, a singular perfection in harmony to create perfection in unison. Concentrate, breath, cut. Slowly end the incision in a flowing arc upwards. Keep the pressure constant, you are the scalpel, its part of you and through it you express action drawn from the inner intent. Move slowly. Move ever so slowly.

----

Precision is a form of prayer, a meditation which allows the soul and the body to communicate through the act of concentration. Focusing though the sights of a rifle or on the line of a scalpel is one and the same. Center on the intent, on the action, not the circumstance. This is how you get through murdering your enemy from 400 meters or a dear friend from 4 mm.

Breath, breath, slow down and concentrate.