The aren't many bridal shops in Khayr-ad Din. In fact, there aren't any at all. It just so happens though, that Jacqueline Bruna runs an exclusive dress shop for the city's jet-set, located in the newly renovated Core Tower. And that's where Natalia Meredine and her friends found themselves one hot spring afternoon.
"Wait. Why am I here again?" Natty glared at herself in the full length mirror, greatly disappointed. The dress she was currently trying on had "too many buckles and not enough bustle," as Avatanya put it. It was all wrong, and did not do her, nor Ms. Bruna's shop, any justice. Natty fumbled with the zipper, scowling. Then her hands shook. She tried to swallow. Her knees buckled. Natty could feel the world swallow her up.
"Are you alright miss?" Jacqueline Bruna raised an eyebrow, demonstratin' just the right level of concern a high-end Core Tower shopkeep was supposed to show towards someone from the Badlands Caravan Guild.
"She's fine. It's just nerves, is all," Avatanya Brom stepped in between shopkeep and customer, her voice mothering and husky, "poor thing's getting married this week. To a duelist," she appended with the disapproval she knew that someone such as Ms. Bruna might appreciate.
"Oh! Many happy returns then, miss...?" Jackie Bruna was a good judge of character, and she quickly determined that the bride-to-be and her entourage were definitely characters.
"Meredine," Natty nodded, barely standing; she leaned heavily on Avatanya's arm, while Tessa and Karin circled the wagons, drawing up a screen of potential dresses and accessories to shield Natty from prying eyes.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Natty scowled as she gulped for air, whispering, "just the stress... Just think Av," she straightened, "getting married is more aggravating than getting shot at."
Avatanya snorted.
"Miss Bruna," Natty smiled to the girls as she slipped out of the dress. She breathed out slowly and regained her composure, "I've been shot at, clobbered, concussed, bombed and I've even once had the distinct pleasure of rappelling down the side of the Paxton Executive Tower."
Jacqueline Bruna approached, sizing up her customer, "it would seem you've led a full and adventurous life."
Natty sussed herself out in the mirror, crossed her arms and then shot a glance over at her three companions. The four caravan women exchanged a knowing smile. Jacqueline Bruna didn't know the half of it.
"How about this?" Jacqueline produced a sheer purple dress. It was all of elegant, simple, alluring and vivacious.
"Yes," Natty nodded moments later. She looked herself over again in the mirror, wearing the sumptuous dress, "that man doesn't stand a chance. This is the dress I'll be wearing when I start my greatest adventure."
Tessa let out a little sob. Karin wasn't far behind with the waterworks.
"Yeah," Avatanya nodded, "but what about shoes?"
Monday, July 13, 2009
Obligatory Bridal Shop Scene
Mother Barnaby
The Caravan's penchant for attracting (and returning) fire has mean that Gade Vonyran and the team of mechanics have been taxed to their limit, particularly since their workshop is situated in a converted Longrunner.
Long unsatisfied with the Bohemoth gear transport, Kain has been looking for an improved addition to the Caravan, and all his dreams came true when a surplus Mother Barnaby turned up. Designed to support a mobile hunter-killer Gear group, the Mother Barnaby perfectly fills out the support role for the Caravan's two teams of Gears.
Though a little awkwardly positioned, the commanding height of the cockpit facilitates the deployment of light weaponry. The pintle mount will fit either an AGL or an LMG, or even an MMG in a pinch. A SAM is kept at the ready to fend off aerial adversaries.
| HEAVY GEAR VEHICLE RECORD SHEET | |||||||||
| NAME: | VEHICLE SPECIFICATIONS | ||||||||
| Big Momma | SIZE: | 12 | |||||||
| MODEL: | CREW: | 2 | |||||||
| SV-990 Mother Barnaby | BONUS ACTIONS: | 1 | |||||||
| CLASS: | MOVEMENT | ||||||||
| Heavy Gear transport | PRIMARY COMBAT: ground | 8 / +1 | |||||||
| PRIMARY TOP: | 16 / +2 | ||||||||
| RANGE: | 1250km | ||||||||
| MANEUVER: | -2 | ||||||||
| ELECTRONICS | |||||||||
| SENSORS: | -1 / 2km | ||||||||
| COMMUNICATION: | 0 / 20km | ||||||||
| FIRE CONTROL: | -3 | ||||||||
| ARMOUR | |||||||||
| LIGHT DAMAGE: | 16 | ||||||||
| HEAVY DAMAGE: | 32 | ||||||||
| OVERKILL: | 48 | ||||||||
| WEAPONS | |||||||||
| CODE-NAME: | RANGE | DAM | ACC | RoF/CLIP | Special | ||||
| 9mm Light Machinegun | 100/200/400/800 | x30 | 0 | 2 / 50 | |||||
| PERKS | |||||||||
| NAME: | RATING: | GAME EFFECT | AUX | ||||||
| Crew Accomodations | 2 | Military grade | |||||||
| Hostile Environment Protection | - | Desert | |||||||
| Improved Off-Road Capabilities | - | -1 to Terrain in MP, min. cost 1 | |||||||
| Laboratory | 1 | Mechanics | |||||||
| Passenger Seating | 5 | ||||||||
| Pintle Mount | - | Can carry one infantry weapon (F) | |||||||
| Reinforced Chassis | - | Absorbs first "Structure" hit | |||||||
| Rugged Movement System | - | Absorbs first "Movement" hit | |||||||
| Searchlight | - | 100m, FF | |||||||
| Tool Arm | 7 | Cannot Punch | |||||||
| Tool Arm | 13 | Cannot Punch | |||||||
| Vehicle Bays | 13 | Can Carry up to 65 tons of Gears | |||||||
| FLAWS | |||||||||
| NAME: | RATING: | GAME EFFECT | AUX | ||||||
| Annoyance | - | Cramped passenger seating | |||||||
| Annoyance | - | Deficient ventilation system | |||||||
| Exposed AUX Systems | - | ||||||||
| Large Sensor Profile | 2 | Subtract from concealment | |||||||
| Weak Facing | - | Top | |||||||
| DEFECTS | |||||||||
| NAME: | RATING: | GAME EFFECT | AUX | ||||||
| None | |||||||||
| xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx |
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Three New Trucks
Now, out behind the concrete building that was the Caravan Guild's main shipping office was a big tarmac lot with a bunch of buildings. Most of these were old rickety warehouses, filled with items for special deliveries or for long term storage. Some stuff was just sitting there gathering dust too, but no one talked about how Kain made a bum deal with those snake-oil merchants back in Lagruda anymore. Well, not with him present, anyways.
One of the buildings was the truck garage, a massive edifice of ferrocrete and corrugated metal, made just like everything else in Khayr-ad Din: haphazardly. It was currently housing two Longrunner caravan trucks. Outside, a big Mother Barnaby gear transport and mobile repair truck was baking in the sun. Inside, Doc Chambers and Ellen Cranby were having a little heart to heart:
"No, Ellen, I simply won't fire her. The caravan is already short on gear pilots, and Torch is fully qualified," Dr. Tom Chambers was calmly inspecting the suspension of the new deliveries. The two new Longrunners and the refurbished Mother Barnaby were the result of the good working relationship the Guild had nurtured with Neil Motorwerks out in Fort Neil. Of course, Tom didn't know much about trucks or suspension, but he did have a critical eye.
"Fine Doctor Chambers," came Ellen's curt reply. She pursed her lips, surely a bad sign, "onto other matters," she looked at her datapad, "you've got us on a busy, busy schedule. Everyone on the caravan will be working very hard, and will be quite tired by the time we reach..." her eyes widened, "Creighton?! Don't you mean WestBase!?"
"Yes, I do," Chambers finally deigned to look at Ellen, who was downright radiatin' a vivacious mixture of anger and bewilderment. Tom had found Ellen to be a real bundle of joy these past few days. "The Guild has a job to do there, and either way, there's a new power in WestBase. A Colonel Charles Arthur the Third. He's working hard to bring the city under his control, and while I don't think he's won it yet," the Doc frowned at a scuffed metal panel on the Longrunner, "I've got a feeling he's the one to back. So you and Kain will have to make some inroads with the good Earther colonel."
"I see. Wasn't WestBase where you were set upon by two Mordred GRELs, Doctor?" Ellen jotted down a few things on the datapad with her stylus. Her hackles were raised high alright.
"Umm, yes. Yes it was Ellen," was the Doc's reply, "and I expect everyone in the Caravan to be extra cautious."
"And this other job there?" Ellen regretted asking the question, "what will that entail?"
"I think that it can wait until after the wedding," Doc Chambers smiled and turned the corner, coming face to face with Stacy, Scooter and Guillaum.
"Ah, just who I wanted to see," the Doc's eyes lit up, visibly relieved to let Ellen stew a moment, "tell me then, how are these vehicles shaping up?"
Stacy looked over from the two salvagers, her face smeared with grease, "oh fine Doc. Just fine. Looks like we got two real fine new scores here. We'll have to drive 'em around a bit to get the real story, but it all looks good."
Guillaum kicked the tire of the nearest Longrunner, "oh yeah boss, solid. But whoever told you that these were brand new, well..." he winked at Scooter, who picked up the topic.
"Well, let's just say that I'm pretty sure I sold the Neil Motorwersk rep some old Longrunner parts before we signed on with you." Scooter shrugged, "but otherwise she looks good."
"And the Barnaby?" the Doc would talk to the NMW man later.
"Again, we won't know until we get it on the road for a while. But I'd sayshe's tough enough. I know that we'll be able to turn the Cave into a dedicated vehicle garage 'cuz of that beast," Scooter smiled toothily, "let the gear heads and their techs work out of the Mother."
"Yeah, sure will be nice to have a bunk in that new machine," Guillaum pointed lazily towards the Longrunner that was already outfitted for crew quarters and cargo hauling, "I'm sick of sleepin' in a cot in the Cave."
"Yeah," Scooter nodded.
There was a kind of awkward silence. Like somebody cut wind, only no one was owning up to the deed. The Doc looked at the two salvagers, and then at Stacy, and then at Ellen. Ellen was studying her dataglove. Violence radiated from her demeanor in rays.
"Hey, Doc," Stacy spoke up to the relief of everyone, "how's Sam?"
Ellen looked over at Stacy, her eyes narrowing slightly. What do YOU want with Sam now, you hussy. I'll do the asking about Sam Tarmalin!
"Oh, he's fine. Well, at least, he will be. The danger's passed, and he'll be back on his feet for the wedding," Tom replied quietly.
"Oh, good. Good." That awkward silence returned. Stacy tried frowning. It didn't work right.
"Well then," Doc Chambers straightened his jacket and looked over at Ellen with mild annoyance. He was pretty sure part of her job was to keep the conversation moving.
"Oh, right, sorry Doctor," Ellen smiled thickly. She was clearly enjoying watching the Doctor not relate to his employees, "come this way, we have to discuss logistics."
"Bye Doc!" Scooter grinned toothily again, waving, "we miss ya on the caravan!"
"No we don't," Guillaum whispered softly as he waved and smiled at the retreating CEO.
"Hey, he was a founding member! He saved our asses, remember?" Scooter looked indignant.
"Damn right."
"Yup."
"Uh-huh."
Stacy rolled her eyes. "Can we get back to work, you two? These engines ain't gonna tune themselves, ya know!"
"Yes'm!"
Multiple Menaces
The Caravan Casino was different things to different people, depending on their needs. For some locals, the Caravan Casino was a home away from home. The drinks were cheap, the regulars were interesting, and the place was kept real clean, at least by Khayr-ad Din standards. Meanwhile, the high falutin' gamblers who needed to feel that they were getting a so-called "authentic" Khayr-ad Din experience ended up at the Caravan Casino because it was outside the Core Oasis tower, in a slightly less, shall we say, well-maintained part of the Trash City. Dueling fans and aspirin' duelists ended up hanging around the Caravan because the place was a known waterin' hole for all sorts of duelists and mechanics. People showed up looking to be seen with the up-and-comers or the down-and-outers. Either way, if you were lucky or obnoxious, or both, you could get your picture taken with your favourite duelist. Then there was the Dueling pro-shop downstairs and 'round back that brought in your mechanics and even a writer for a magazine up North in Innsbruck once. The Caravan Casino was many different things.
Out back, behind the main hall and then past the pro-shop and past a crumbling pre-fab wall, the Caravan Casino became the main garages for the Badlands Caravan Guild, its duelists' hangars, the truck depot, and a shipping warehouse. If you were back around here, it was because you were workin' for the Guild, or you had some real specific reason to be visitin'. Doc Chambers, the Guild boss, wasn't too keen on having much foot traffic. Too much in the way of sensitive items moving in and out of the warehouse and the depot. People doing the normal buying and selling directly with the Guild did their business down in Trader's Way. But it wasn't much of a worry. The whole place looked like a glorified junkyard anyways, with old truck frames piled up, and a couple of rusted out work gears lined up against the outside of the garage wall. There was even a junkyard dawg named Menace who kept the hoppers and the more ambitious trash scavengers away. Or in this case, a couple of kids from New Baja...
"Olly, look, this is the place. Marshal Delacroix said this was the place," Sasha tugged at the teenager's arm and dragged him to the gate.
"You hear that?" Olly was trying his best to squirm out of the bigger girl's grasp. Calling him a teenager was a generous thing to do, in retrospect, "that there's a dawg, a big 'un if I ever heard it. C'mon Sasha! We can wait until someone sees us."
"Olly Indus!" Sasha turned on the kid, eyes glarin', "are you a chicken? Are you a coward? You're my best guy! You're my best sneak, and my best lockpick, and I've seen you boost a car faster than anyone. I picked you to do this internship... thingy with me, and you're gonna do it, or I'm gonna slap you silly and send you back to New Baja!"
The coarse mixture of praise and threats calmed the boy down. Not that Sasha was much older, mind, but she seemed to have things more under control. She turned and continued walking up to the main gate. There was a chain link fence and a couple of heavy chains drawn up across, blocking the gate. A large, dark skinned man sat at the gate, the brim of his straw hat pulled down low over his eyes as he leaned against the fence. The tiny chair he was in was straining something fierce.
Sasha swallowed as she walked up to the gate, Olly's hand still held tightly in hers. She brushed her sandy-brown hair out of her eyes and cleared her throat.
"Ahem...um...excuse me?" she began tentatively, "we're here to see Marshal ... Delacroix." Sasha blinked. The Marshal had never actually told him his first name. She had already started to wonder if he actually had one.
The man didn't answer. He just sat there, arms crossed, brim of his hat down over his eyes like he was asleep. Sasha didn't buy it. She approached him quiet, like a long-fang hopper movin' in for the kill. She could see his lips, curled down in a brooding frown, and hear his breath, slow and steady. She waved her hand in front of him, and when he didn't react, Sasha smiled, waving Olly by to slide between the pair of chains blocking the gate.
That's when Menace padded out curiously from behind a pile of tires. Olly stopped in his tracks. The big dawg was lookin' at him curiously, drool spilling out onto the concrete.
"I wouldn't go any further," the man muttered, "I'm the only one on right now who knows how to keep Menace from attacking." He had a thick Easterner accent: his r's rolled like they was barrels being pushed down a staircase.
"Well mister," Sasha put her fists on her hips and stuck her chin out. Olly backed up a few paces, what with Menace wandering over to the chain, his beady insect eyes reflecting Olly back a couple thousand times. He sniffed the air with his tongue, opened his maw and showed the two kids the rows of razor sharp teeth behind the one-fang-up, two-fangs-down sabertooth jaw set-up that most Terranovan critters have as a baseline.
"Well mister," Sasha said again, after making good and sure that she was a step back from the gate, but not from the big man, "I asked you if you knew Marshal Delacroix! You didn't answer, but you were awake. That's not very polite."
"Neither is trespassing, girl," Sid Teg stood up. The only way to describe a man like this is to liken him to a brick shithouse. His dark skin only highlighted his brooding, angry demeanor, which shot out of every pore, out of his eyes, and on the man's breath. His muscles twitched, "So what do ya want to see Delacroix for?" He towered over Sasha, who did her best not to wilt, her hands still on her hips.
"We're...we're from New Baja," Olly shot out from behind his erstwhile leader, his own courage gathering. No one messed with his boss, no matter what, "we're here for an internship...thingy."
"Yeah," Sasha drew her own confidence, a smirk on her face, "so you get Marshal Delacroix out here, and you call off your dawg mister. We work for Marshal Delacroix. We're Irregulators."
Just then, Josephina walked up to the gate, putting her hand on Menace's collar. "Sid, what's goin' on?" she petted the dawg, who purred in a very un-doglike way, its eyelids flitting up and down strangely.
"These two say they're interns. Workin' for Kain. From New Baja," Sid's disposition did not change.
"Interns, hmmm?" Josephina looked the two children over, "from New Baja? Well, they do look a little pale." She nodded in satisfaction, taking some pleasure in watching the two kids squirm in front of the dawg and the guard, "I seem to recall Kain saying somethin' about getting two New Bajan runts for cleaning chores. These must be them," she untied the chain from the post at the other end of the gate, motioning for the pair to enter. Neither of them moved.
"Oh, Menace?" Josephina chuckled, watching the new interns look at the dawg warily, "he only eats hoppers. Just make sure he smells you before you leave, ok?"
Sid rolled his eyes. Sasha stuck her tongue out at him as she walked past. Olly was less brave.
"You kids hungry? Thirsty? We've got some water..." Josephina wiped her forehead as she let Menace go back to skulking around the yard.
"Got any beer?" asked Sasha.
"Probably," Josephina smiled to herself as she led the pair into the main office.
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.
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.
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 Gear | PILOT: | ||||||||
| 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: | RANGE | DAM | ACC | RoF/CLIP | Special | ||||
| Vibroblade | 0 | x9 | 0 | - | 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 EFFECT | AUX | ||||||
| High Towing Capacity | x2 | Can tow double weight, +1 kick damage | |||||||
| Manipulator Arm x2 | 7 | Can Punch | |||||||
| Hostile Environment Protection | Desert | ||||||||
| FLAWS | |||||||||
| NAME: | RATING: | GAME EFFECT | AUX | ||||||
| Large Sensor Profile | 1 | Easier to detect | |||||||
| DEFECTS | |||||||||
| NAME: | RATING: | GAME EFFECT | AUX | ||||||
| None | |||||||||
| xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx | xxxxxx |
