Raptor PR36

The PR36 is Raptor's conversion of the Paxton R36 Assault Rifle into the "ideal shooting and hunting pistol".  Using the same receiver and bolt operation (but with the handle moved behind the magazine), the PR36 has all the dependability of the Paxton assembly in a more compact package.

 In addition to the basic, "stripped" model with 10 round clip, the PR36 is also available in an assault CQB variant with a compact folding/removable stock, 35 round clip, and tactical rail/foregrip.  A variety of standard attachments may be fitted.

(PR36 shown with outline of Riley 13mm heavy pistol)

The Paxton 5mm cartridge has not been widely embraced due to a perceived lack of power, but, in an albeit over-sized handgun, the damage potential is considerable and compares well with similar "hand cannon".

Mass	Cost	Magazine	Range	Damage	Accuracy	ROF
1.4	$$$	10, 20, or 35 box	15	23	0	0

29 April 2010 Caught in the Middle

Gade and Natty

Wanted: Sam Tarmalin

For crimes against facial hair.

(Artist's impression.)

Up Close with Konnor Garysson

“It’s the 24^th hour on Friday 14 winter 1933.”

“Good evening and welcome to ‘Up Close’ with me, your host, Konnor Garysson.”

“Tonight we will look into the report published this week by the Prince Gable Council sub-committee on political affairs which focused on the events leading to and occurring on 10 Autumn 1931 in Lance Point in which 357 workers were killed in violent clashes with the MILICIA’s 11^th heavy gear regiment, the Rapiers.”

“A little more than a cycle after its founding, NuCoal faced its first major scandal when the report published findings of ‘gross negligence’ and ‘potentially culpable misconduct’ on the part of ‘senior officials’ within NuCoal.”

“Just prior to this report, it had been announced by the Fort Neil Mayor’s office that Royz Malkolm would not be running for re-election in next year’s campaign, choosing instead to focus on his duties as chairman of NuCoal. His spokesperson said this decision was made last season, after 3 terms as mayor he felt he needed to focus on his new responsibilities and ‘leave the mantle of municipal governing to someone new’.”

“However SNS has obtained a copy of a memo drafted by the NuCoal chairman’s chief of staff in Autumn of 1931 which calls for ‘longer deliberation’ before acting in Lance Point. The chief of staff at that time was Tomohiro Chambers, an expatriated Mekongese who had become a prominent Badlands businessman and philanthropist.”

“As we were preparing this story, NuCoal announced it was ‘considering’ opening a hearing on the events of ten-A-thirty-one in light of the report and the memo obtained by this program.”

“When we tried to reach Mr. Chambers’ office for comment, we received notice that he was stepping down as CEO of Guildebank, the central banking apparatus for NuCoal as well as all his other private appointments including President of the Badlands Caravan Guild, trustee of the Meredine Foundation and the Lelland Endowment, Doctor Chambers is also major stock holder of numerous other enterprises including SNS news. His office said that Mr. Chambers would be retiring from public view citing ‘personal reasons’.”

“Some pundits say this is as near an admission of guilt in the Lance Point affair as we are likely to see while others argue that he could be falling on his sword to avoid a full blown scandal for NuCoal.”

“No official reaction has been forthcoming from NuCoal concerning Mr. Chambers’ departure; however they have announced plans to restructure the GuildeBank into the NuCoal Reserve Fiduciary.”

“Later in the program we’ll meet some of the victims of that fateful day in Lance Point and hear how they’ve coped since then as well as look into the rumors surrounding a group calling themselves the Badlands Revolutionary Front. That and more when we return.”<

Caravanery

17 Winter, TN 1935

He looks just like his mother.

Bartholomew Vonyran jotted the line down in his datapad, the stylus ticking softly against the small screen. He sat cross-legged on a bunk, the only open space in the cabin. The caravan was moving, and everything was tied down and folded up. Bart watched a laundry sack sway gently as the big truck navigated the Barrington Basin. He looked back down at his datapad, writing furiously:

Everyone says that. But never to my face. They whisper it just as I leave to do a chore. Ugh. I can't believe that these people all knew my mom and dad. But it'd be alright if they'd at least TALKED TO ME LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING and not like some sort of freak show! After two weeks you'd think that--

"Knock knock!" a woman's voice startled Bart. He looked up. The door to the cabin was open, so the interloper was at least announcing her presence politely. Bart swallowed, trying vainly to hide his datapad journal. It was Tessa, one of the younger members of the caravan, who was something of a mystery to him. Well, more mysterious than most of the crew, anyways. Also, she was pretty and exotic-looking, with big green eyes and very light skin. Bart's experience with the fairer sex was limited to homesteader girls, who were, in his experience, all kinda dull.

"Oh, uh, hi Tessa." Bart gulped, hand on the datapad, covering up the text display.

"Hi Bart!" replied Tessa, sliding into the room confidently. She carried a bowl on a tray, "thought you might be hungry after today, so I brought you some gulash." She placed it on the bed next to the boy.

"Oh! Thanks!" Bart said, genuinely. He was too wrapped up in his journal that he hadn't noticed how hungry he was. He crammed a laden spoon into his mouth, chewed silently a moment, and then swallowed happily. "Mmm. This is really good. Thanks."

Tessa nodded quietly. She looked the boy over, and sat down across from him on a little stool, leaning against the flimsy interior wall. "So, how do you like it?"

"It's good!" he blinked, confused, "I just said that!"

"No no, silly," Tessa leaned forward, and batted Bart on the side of the head, mussing his already unruly mop of hair, "how do you like working on a caravan?" She leaned back against the wall, the stool rocking a little as the caravan truck hit a bump. The boy was clearly formulating a reply. She watched him squirm.

"Oh, you poor thing," she chuckled, "you don't have worry about offending me. I was younger than you when I started on this caravan. And I figure you hate it."

"Really?" Bart put the bowl down and looked over at Tessa. He blushed, "I er...well, I don't hate it exactly." He looked down at the bed, cramming his hands into his jacket pockets.

"But you're wondering why your Pa put you in our tender care?" she smirked, though her eyes were very tender. When Bart finally looked up at her, he scowled.

"I didn't know her."

"What?" his tone had caught Tessa off-guard.

"My mother. I didn't know her," Bart said again, somewhat maliciously. He watched Tessa's face for a reaction, and then regretted what he had said. Her eyes were watery.

"You're even dumber than your father," Tessa stood, hands on her hips. She glared down at the boy, pulling a data-key off a little chain. "Here." She threw it onto the bed. "Breakfast is at 0400. See you there." She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Bart was speechless. He looked at the half-empty bowl, the tray, the spoon on his lap, the data-key on his bed. Dumbfounded, he took the data-key and slid it into the reader on his datapad. A video started playing:

"And here we have Natalia Meredine, 35, from... Where are you from Natty?" Tessa's voice was loud. She was clearly the one holding the camera, which jiggled a little as she zoomed in.

The screen showed the increasingly large rear-end of a slim woman, wearing a pair of baggy Northern-issue khakis. She was bent over, her top half buried in what looked like the electronics bay of a heavy gear.

"Wounded Knee," came the reply, "wait, Tessa, what are you..."

Bart inhaled sharply. He had seen pictures of his mother, purple hair and all, but when he watched her pull herself out of the guts of the gear, turn and face the camera with a scowl, he was sucker-punched. Natty was slightly pregnant. With him. And he did look an awful lot like her, he conceded.

"I'm just taking some video of you, for your boy!" Tessa was rapidly zooming the camera back out, as Natty's face had taken up the entire screen.

"Tessa, first off, I'm bigger than a barnaby right now, so thanks a million. Second, we don't know if it's a boy. And third, I'm going to shove that camera up your nose if you don't turn it off!" Natty glared, though her expression betrayed much mirth. "Now, get back into the cockpit and see if this bucket of bolts has any sensors!"

Bart's eyes widened. When Tessa had zoomed the camera out and put it down, he got a good view of the gear. He recognized it instantly. That was Gun.

The video blacked out.

--I just met my mother. They're right. I do look just like her.

Remembering

The Saragossa Mountains
The War of the Alliance, TN1913

“Soldiers of the Republic! I am here to tell you that we will not leave this pass alive. That is certain!” Sous-Commandante Saré Mayenne stood in front of what was left of the 54th Southern Republican Army infantry regiment, Les Montagnards. Her regimental commander had been decapitated earlier that day when the CEF’s artillery rained down in the mountains. Saré had assumed command and withdrawn her forces higher up into the jagged terrain.

She let the words ring out in the night. There were, at last count, 84 men left in Les Montagnards. They had acquitted themselves reasonably well against this new Earther foe. But relief was still two days away, as the CEF still dominated low-orbit and had caught the Southern Republic—indeed, all of Terranova—completely by surprise. Instead of fighting Northerners as they had been trained, the Army of the Southern Republic was defending all of Terranova from invaders from Earth, the home planet that had abandoned them to their own devices over 400 cycles ago.

“It is our duty that we hold this pass through the Saragossa Mountains until relieved. We will not be relieved in time,” she said simply, pacing among her assembled soldiers, “but we can make the Earther’s advance into our homeland a costly one. We can, and we must. Our beloved Republic is depending on us, and we will be remembered. This, I can promise. We will fight and die, and we will be remembered!”

Saré Mayenne dismissed her soldiers and was left alone, high up in the mountains. She looked up at the sky, filled with stars, and cursed them for the first time in her life. It is bad enough to hate each other on this planet. Why does the Earth hate us? Her face betrayed no emotion, but she screamed inwardly with rage. As soon as it started, however, it stopped. She smiled, knowing that her death would not be in vain. For Saré had suddenly thought of her husband, her love.

I know you will avenge me, Kain DeLacroix!

3 Winter, TN1935
The Saragossa Mountains
Les Montagnards Memorial

Kain stood before the cenotaph, high in the cold mountains. He was pleased. He had been the largest donor for the establishment of the memorial, anonymously, of course. The simple, rock-hewn obelisk was the sort of thing that Saré had been fond of. He read the inscription:

It was here, in the early, desperate days of the War of the Alliance, that the 54eme Regiment D’Infanterie, Les Montagnards, was destroyed to the last man in a desperate holding action against overwhelming numbers. The men and women of the 54eme were led to glory by their executive officer, Sous-Commandante Saré Mayenne, who assumed command after the regimental commander was killed in the initial barrage…

“This is nice, Kain.”

Kain’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t look behind him, towards the voice that had interrupted his private moment with the memory of his wife. Andy Pearl had found him.

“Thank you Andy,” Kain replied, softly.

“She would have liked this,” Andy continued, coming to stand next to Kain, in front of the monument. He looked around at the quiet mountain clearing, nodding his approval. “She really and truly would have liked this.”

“Yes Andy, I know. I did come to appreciate her tastes.”

“You were difficult to track down, Kain.”

“Thank you. And congratulations on finding me.”

“Thank you,” Andy smiled tightly, “I suppose this is fitting, having the cenotaph in the Badlands, where you can visit, and not in the military cemetery in Aquitaine, where she’s buried.”

“I do not need to visit her grave to honour her every day,” Kain lied, “and this way her actions are given the special merit they deserve.”

“Yes,” Andy replied, knowingly.

Kain finally let himself look at his former friend. “You didn’t have to tar her name like that Andy.”

“We both know that I didn’t have anything to do with that, Kain,” Andy replied coldly, meeting Kain’s look. This was true enough. Once word of Kain’s actions in Baja after the War came out in the Southern Republic military establishment, it was clear that Kain’s late wife was clearly unfit for the full honour she was due, having married such a traitor. Such was the way of things in the Southern Republic.

Both men looked back at the memorial.

…killed in the initial barrage. The infantrymen of the 54eme knew their task and the desperate circumstances all too well. Les Montagnards held their ground long enough, so that relief forces were able to arrive in time to prevent the invader from advancing any further. Their bravery and sacrifice will never be forgotten.
Vive le Republique!
Vive la Terranova libre!
1 Winter, TN1935

“Very nice,” Andy nodded.

“What do you want, Andy?” Kain’s long sojourn in the Badlands had not done wonders for his temperament.

“Things have heated up again Kain. I advise you to stay out of my way.”

Kain turned and smiled at his former friend.

“I think we both know that you’re advising me to do the impossible.”

Andy frowned, the act distorting his face unnaturally. He nodded towards the cenotaph gently, “think of her, Kain, before you do anything rash.” Andy turned and left.

“I always do, Pearl. I always do.”


3 Winter, TN1935
OPERATION TARGETER

RENDEZVOUS WITH CARAVAN ID “REGULATOR”
LOCATION: JAN MAYEN BETA MAGLEV TOWER KATHERINE OASIS


NEW ORDERS UPON RENDEZVOUS

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