WP3025 Chpt 10

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==Chapter 10 - Winged Praxis (Battletech 3015 CYOA)==
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===Flashback to the Garden of Gods - Militia vs LMS engagement continuesDog Fight with the Ace===
Republic of Kasnov-Greenland, New Olympia
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
10th October, 3014
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G-forces slammed me to the side as I engaged my RCS and vectored thrust to slip me out of the Militia pilot's sights just before his big beams flashed.
 
It wasn't going well.
I was playing tag with a couple of fighters that could kill me with one trigger pull, and I was rapidly realizing that the 18th Marik Militia put its best pilots in lighter spaceframes.
 
Snarling, I returned fire, only one of my beams finding its mark, slashing across the Marik Militia crest. The Eagle rocked, but didn't lose control, and then I was loading on the Gs to climb above his tailbeams.
 
(("He doesn't like you, Duster.")) grunted out Inspector as he tried to bring his PPC in line.
 
"I don't like him either." I returned, yanking my nose around and lining up on the Eagle's planform from broadside. Just as I triggered my lasers, he tightened down on his turn, sliding out of my HUD. "Carajo! Sierra foxtrot, stay still!"
 
<<"Duster, break!">>
I broke, doing my best to snap the sidestick off as I applied back pressure. I didn't die, probably ignoring the Eagle pilot Terri was engaging. Looking over everyone's positions, I made a snap call. "Flowing to support T-bone." Opening up my throttle, I charged down the Eagle as best I could, trying to get into medium laser range before he could take another potshot at me, angling for a safer side shot.
 
I probably couldn't have done it if he wasn't being harassed by Terri. The Eagle rolled out of the way out of a PPC energy bolt, was caught by an 8cm beam, and then I was past his nose, and screaming in at his side, melting further armor from one wing. The heavy fighter shrugged it off, twitching it's tail around to send a beam my way.
 
It connected.
 
<{"Warning Warning. Warning Warning. Wing Armor Critical!"}> reported Betty as I wrestled to keep my Sabre from tumbling as something broke with a sharp bang under the thin armor I had left. <{"RCS Damage."}>
That wasn't good. I couldn't count on using the thrusters to give me an extra kick out of sight pictures anymore. With time, I'm sure I could work the DI computer to isolate the damage and give me back safe, if degraded capability. I didn't have time in the middle of a dogfight.
 
Opening up the throttle to regain energy, I extended for a few seconds before turning back into the Eagle, spitting light back his way, hitting with a full spread near his torch, which flared brighter and knocked him tumbling as he lost vectoring control for a few seconds. "Chinga tu madre, pendejo!" I crowed, "Say hello to the ground!"
 
The world slammed sideways and…
 
<{"-ser 2 Destroyed."}> said Betty as I snapped back to existence. <{"Pull Up, PULL UP! Warning Warn…"}>
 
I reefed back on the stick, pulling the paddle to disable all safeties, as rapidly approaching granite filled my HUD. Despite my worries about the RCS system, I kicked them in full. A runaway RCS propellant detonation might kill me. The ground would.
 
The kick in my tailbone almost felt like I had crashed, and the world narrowed to a tight circle of rock, then sky around a bright green velocity vector bug. I shoved the throttle full forward, heedless of fuel consumption and tactical considerations, and unloaded G as I headed for the sky.
 
<{"Bingo, Bingo"}> said Betty, then the LRHAW chimed with the news that I had just been locked up by an Eagle.
 
<<"No you don't!">> snapped Terri, and a lightning bolt snapped past my canopy. The spike disappeared from my HUD, and I looked to the side. An Eagle fell from the sky with a glowing crater where its cockpit should be.
 
(("Splash two.")) said Inspector. (("Good kills, cadets."))
 
I shook my head to clear the haze, even as I pushed the nose over and throttled all the way back before hitting the master caution. "Wh-what happened to the other guy?"
<<"You did.">> said Terri with the post-combat roughness in her voice, forming up on my mauled Sabre. <<"Two o'clock low.">>
 
I looked and saw a patch of forest with a line of fire and shattered trees drawn through it, punctuated by one hell of a blast crater. "Huh."
 
<<"Stole my kill.">> said Terri with a brittle joviality.
 
(("And you took mine.")) said Inspector. The commandant was better at making the joke sound natural. (("Bolt 2-1, say state.")) he commanded, falling back into protocol.
 
I looked over my instruments and indicators. There were entirely too many red lights. "Just got first bingo on the climb, and I'm maybe armor 2. Lost laser two, and I've got damage to…"
 
Inspector cut me off. (("Bolt 2-1, RTB. Helios 1-2, escort him back. Ambrosia, get Asclepius in the air pronto for CSAR, and chop me another flight for BARCAP. We've got clear skies now, but no idea how long that'll last…"))
 
Terri and I turned for home.
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===Recognizing Aerospace Fighters===
Dropship Siduri, Zenith Jump Point
New Olympia System
Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League
17th January, 3015
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It felt like gravity had abandoned us altogether as a selection of passengers gathered on the 'balcony' to watch our mercenary escorts dock. Some of the people looked more than a bit queasy in freefall. Which was probably the reason why Bankhead lines tried to keep under a minimal amount of thrust even during turnover, no matter how inefficient and annoying it was for the helm.
I was fine. I'd certainly had my fair share of dropsickness when I left Cerillos, but you just couldn't be an ASF pilot without getting used to the concept of variable or missing gravity. While other passengers flailed around in empty air, trying to 'swim' their way to something they could hold onto or smacked into walls they had ended up jumping into, I had pushed myself into the transpex of the observation windows, before softening the landing with my outstretched arms, only to flip myself up to catch a handy outcropping with the toe of my boot. I ended up floating anchored with my head pointed at the deck, flipped 180 degrees to pretty much the entire rest of the crowd.
 
I turned back to the hatch, gesturing at the Dus and Phillipa to join me.
 
"Show off," said Lien, smiling as she floated over at a more sedate pace, turning over to align herself with my orientation. I fielded her before she could hit the transpex, sliding her in beside me with an arm around her waist.
 
"I can't help it if my grace shines in this backdrop," I said, stealing a kiss.
 
Phillipa rolled her eyes as she and Wei joined us at the observation wall, keeping to the orientation of the rest of the crowd. "So why are you upside down?"
 
I shook a finger. "No such thing in freefall. And it's for viewing angle. A Princess's small craft bays are noseward. We're tailward. So, I'll be able to see a bit more by looking from this angle, before the tug is occluded by the body of the Siduri."
 
Lien laughed. "And here I thought you were just being contrary."
 
I placed a hand over my heart. "How did I ever contract this infamous reputation?"
 
"Clean living, I am sure," said Wei. "Ah, is that it?" He pointed to a drive flare moving left to right from my perspective.
 
I shook my head. "Doubt it. I think that's a Dropship burning for New Olympia." I pointed to a particularly bright star. "I'm pretty sure that's our patrol tug."
 
"But it's not moving," said Phillipa, then grimaced. "No, that's stupid, it wouldn't, would it?"
 
I nodded. "It'll get bigger, then wink out. They'll do docking on RCS. No reason to keep the torch on." I cocked my head to the side. "Alternatively, it'll slide to the side near the end, and they'll come to rest near us, before using the RCS for docking. That'd be safer, just in case they suffered a torch failure before killing their velocity." I nodded decisively. "Yeah, that's likely what they'll do."
Wei looked up at me. "Slide to the side?"
I shrugged, keeping as still as I could with my toehold. "Not really. It's just how it'll appear to us. I was initially thinking they'd take a straight in course, one that would intercept us, then kill their velocity before coming in on RCS. But it'd be safer to lay a course that would miss us if they can't slow down before closest approach. Again, they'll burn to a relative stop, then dock on RCS, but it won't be a true intercept course. So it'll look like they are moving from our point of view."
"Well, it is getting bigger." said Lien.
 
"And moving right," said Wei. 
 
"Not long now," I said, as the fusion flare went from a star to a drive trail before our eyes. And suddenly I could see the patrol tug itself, a flat metal deck on top of a collection of tanks, framed in with scaffolding, and one fusion torch. Formation lights blinked at its edges, and spotlights clicked on, showing off what was landed on the deck. It was still too far for even my eyes to get much more than a vague impression of size. The tug was slowly spinning on its long axis, showing both sides of the deck in turn. 
"Looks like a couple of medium fighters, I think," I muttered.
 
Lien chuckled. "You mean you can't smell the models from here?" She gave me a playful shove. "I'm sure they'll show off what they've got when they get closer."
"Yeah, yeah." I said absently, squinting. The closing velocity had come down to a crawl, and I expected them to cut their torch any second. "One's a Stingray," I decided, finally able to resolve more detail.
 
"How," asked Phillipa, "can you tell that?"
 
"The forward swept wings," I said, nodding towards the tug. "It's not like they would have pulled a Deathstalker out of a museum."
 
"I can only see the tug," said Wei, getting agreement from Lien, Phillipa, and a number of eavesdropping passengers, some of who were orienting themselves like I was. 
 
I had a quick moment of dissonance as I realized that my eyes were as above average as my old eyes had been below the curve. Not something that local Gideon would have ever thought about, but why hadn't it crossed my mind before? A tiny shudder ran through me as I forced the thought down. 
 
"Stingray is an easy bet," I said with an airy tone. "For a medium around here, anyway."
 
"You would know," said Gunther, floating up with his wife. A round of welcomes and pleasantries ensued. "Do you think it's a good one?"
 
I pursed my lips. "It's a little sluggish for my tastes, but you need to keep in mind that I spent my most of my time in light fighters. We tend to be thrust addicts."
 
"I've noticed." said Lien, impishly.
 
I blew a raspberry. "But I've actually had the chance to take one for a spin. Flies beautifully, and the weapons and armor fit? Top notch. It doesn't have a patch on a Sabre two circle, but you can pull some surprising tricks one circle. She's got great nose pointing ability in atmosphere. She also heats up like no one's business if you try and use her full firepower, but the Sabre spoiled me for that. Light fighters tend to run cold." I clucked my tongue. "If I could add anything, it'd probably be a tailbeam or two."
"Oh?" asked Francoise.
 
"In my experience it's all too easy for an interceptor to saddle up and just keep pounding until something breaks. One on one, that's a death sentence." I shook my head. "Now, it's not hopeless, and the nose pointing ability helps some with forcing overshoots, but from the merge, I'd bet on the interceptor with pretty good odds. Maybe less so in the black."
"What do you think of the F-90S?" asked Gunther. 
 
"I appreciate how it brings the heat under control," I said. "And I'd rather fly it than a cow like the Lucifer. But seriously, thinning the nose armor like that was criminal, and an Imperator A is no substitute for a Sunspot. I suppose you could load it with flak rounds for CAP work, but you're really leaving a lot on the table as far as punch and penetration goes." I shrugged. "Personally, I'd say that swapping the PPC for another 8 cm laser and a pair of heat sinks, then flipping the mediums to fire aft would be a much better mod as far as heat goes, but you know, I just fly `em, I don't build `em."
 
"You don't think it was worth it to shift weight back?"
 
"Without stick time, I really couldn't say. For all I know, they might fly worse." The tug turned again. "Oooh, I think that's a Corsair."
Francoise brightened. Davion national pride. "Really? Aren't they rare here?"
"Pretty much only the Regulans fly them," I confirmed. "The factory on Connaught didn't get much of a chance to make them before they lost the main line. I'd love to get some stick time on one, especially if it's an intact V12."
"Intact?" asked Wei.
"The Regulans pull a large beam, the tailbeams, then add armor and heatsinks. Another mod that had good intentions but make the spaceframe worse if you ask me." The tug had cut its main drive, and was plenty close now. "Hey, wait, what's with that paint?"
 
The Corsair was a mottled mix of panels with nothing more than primer of various colors, looking like nothing so much as a patchwork quilt. But there was a background color of purple. The port wing had traces of blue as well and the starboard red…
 
My eyes snapped to the tail where a white disc with a red rose in it was crossed with a black slash.
 
"It's a mess." said Gunther.
 
"It's an 18th bird," I said. "Or at least it was. Looks like someone salvaged it, fixed it up, and didn't have time to paint it…" My mind started spinning. The only people in system who would have had salvage rights on the 18th's fighters were LMS and maybe the 21st Centauri Lancers…who had already left. Not to mention I was pretty sure the Lancers hadn't even engaged the 18th. 
 
I supposed it was possible that I was wrong and an ex-Lancer had picked up a Corsair from the 18th Marik Militia, then decided to strike out for opportunity in a smaller unit but…
 
The tug rolled, and I saw the F-90 clearly.
 
Lien yelped as I started, releasing both my hold on her and my toehold. She drifted away, catching herself against the transpex. I drifted back towards the hatchway.
 
I knew that Stingray. 
 
I had flown that Stingray.
 
That Stingray had saved my life.
 
And its pilot…
 
"Ay dios," I groaned. "Mierda."
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===Unexpected Reunion===
Dropship Siduri, Zenith Jump Point
Aitutaki System
Principality of Regulus, Free Worlds League
20th January, 3015
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I hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Terri and the other mercenaries when they docked. A jump to the Tongapatu system had followed hot on the heels of the tug securing itself in the Siduri's empty small craft bay, and we had been lucky enough to have a JumpShip outbound to Aitutaki that we could swap to. 
 
Unfortunately, the excitement with Anton's Rebellion meant that the Siduri's mistress wanted the pilots sitting ready five during the transfer, so my invitation to the soonest possible meal had to wait until we had made it to Aitutaki. Even the most paranoid captain figured that a JumpShip taking charge from a recharge station would be safe, even before the system defense craft were figured in.
 
The wait had put me in a hell of a mood. I figured I was going to have the mother of all awkward conversations, probably get slapped, but I really wanted nothing more than to see Terri and whoever of my other comrades she had convinced to come along. The wait had me running over possible ways our reunion could go, tending to get worse and worse over time.
 
Which was why I was feeling extremely tense as I made my way through crew country towards the small craft bays. Lord, I hoped being a horny bastard didn't alienate me from one of the most important people in my life…
 
"Duster!" cheered a male voice, interrupting my thoughts.
 
"Socks?" I asked, delighted to see my former wingman.
 
The short, dark-complexioned Regulan grabbed my hand and drew me into a backslapping hug. Anvit Kundaraju was more than a head shorter than I was, but he was strong having held a slot on the LMS wrestling team. Unlike me, he wasn't growing a beard now that he was free from LMS's grooming standards, but he was starting up a moustache. "I hear you're looking for some mercenary fighter pilots?" he said with a lopsided grin full of very white teeth.
 
"Yeah," I said with an answering grin. "If I can find any good ones." I punched his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing leaving LMS, tonto?"
 
"I might have had some words to say to the Darienbad press about you being cashiered." he said with a conspiratorial wink. "Something about that stuffed shirt's moral character."
 
"Ah," I raised an eyebrow. "Bet that went over real nice with Halkias."
 
"Yeah," he said, looking pleased. "Turned out that the reporter had an interview scheduled with him the next day." He cackled. "He thought it was going to be a sweetheart deal about his heroics fighting the 18th. Didn't end that way."
"Ouch," I said, just as soon as I was done laughing. "I take it he got shirty with you?"
"I heard some rumors." He opened a hatch, waving me through. "Didn't figure it was worth staying. I was having trouble with going back to the academy crap after the battle anyway." He sealed the hatch behind us. "Anyway, T-Bone said you were forming a merc unit and would be needing pilots. How'd that happen?"
"A tale involving spite, lostech prospecting, an absentee father, and radiation poisoning, old son." I threw my arm around his shoulders. "I'm taking this cruise to meet a half-sister and look over the spoils. Glad to have you aboard."
He snorted and jabbed my side. "Hell of a cruise. So what, you're the rich one now?"
 
"Oh, the cruise is free," I said. "But I have come into a fair chunk of change."
 
"Careful man, you know that free lunches aren't," he warned. He ran a hand through his shock of black hair, then fixed me with his dark eyes. "Do you know what you're getting into?"
I sighed. "No. I've got some suspicions, but no, I don't know exactly what's going on. I'm working my way through my father's files to try and get a better idea, but even that's not gonna have everything. I figure there's some sort of noble power play going on. The question is if I'm a useful tool to be rewarded or an unwitting victim."
"Well, at least you're still honest." He stopped and looked out a port at the recharge station. "Of course there's another option. How do you say it? Porkay…"
 
"Por que no los dos?" I finished. "Yeah, it could be both." I clucked my tongue. "Probably is depending on who come out on top. I figure it, if we can get the lay of the land, there's a good chance that we'll be the wild card in whatever game they're playing."
"Noble power plays, mysterious inheritance, a new mercenary unit, and getting kicked out of an academy for a wild stunt after you already saw combat," Socks said. "They should make a holodrama about your life, Duster."
"Okay," I said. "Feels like my life's been full of drama lately, sure. So, what's that make you in this show?"
He smiled. "Obviously, I'm the fun-loving loyal friend who's got his own plotline going on, but it never gets the screentime it deserves. Makes me the fan favorite, `cause they get to imagine what's going on offscreen with me."
 
"Socks, all that tri-vid is going to rot your brain one of these days," I laughed. "Please don't tell me you like Immortal Warrior."
 
"Alright," he said, "I won't tell you. Man, I'm so behind on it…"
 
I shook my head. "Against my better judgement, I may be able to hook you up."
 
"Score!" His expression sobered some. "Speaking of, any truth to the crew rumor that you've been sleeping with another passenger?"
 
I winced. "Really? That's gossip on this ship?"
 
"Mostly that you're not willing to sleep with the crew who's job it is." He shrugged at my dumbfounded look. "Canopians, man. They're different."
 
I grunted assent. "Yeah, it's true."
 
He pursed his lips, then sucked his teeth. "You're probably gonna need to have a heart-to-heart with T-Bone. Not sure she took that rumor well."
 
My imagination came alive again with an image of Terri doing her best to pretend she wasn't hurt. "Yeah." I said. "Yeah, I will." I shook myself as we got moving again. "So, how'd you end up with a Corsair?"
 
He shook his head. "Not mine, brother. I'm a spare pilot and tug driver. Corsair belongs to another pilot."
"Who else did you get?"
"And ruin the surprise? No way. Wait and see." He led me up another ladder, the two of us talking about nothing of consequence.
God, it felt good.
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*;Notes from the Author : This one fought me a bit in places, but hopefully it came out to something worth reading. If nothing else it marks the end of the sortie of October 10th, and us FINALLY leaving the New Olympia system. Anyway, I hope you can forgive the in-character discourse on various marks of fighters, including a jab at everyone's favorite punching bag, the Lucifer. I know it's something that the fandom has hammered out over a great many fics and articles, including the excellent Trace Coburn series that has been linked in the comments.As Stormseed called, and I'm sure most of you guessed, yes, one of the mercenary pilots is Terri. A second is Socks, Gideon's initial wingman on the October 10th sortie, and the voice of Tabi310 at the Naming. The identity of any other mercenaries on the tug are left a mystery for now.In other housekeeping, I've gone ahead and threadmarked the performance specs for aerospace units Nebfer was so kind to share under informational. Check em out if you haven't already. They're an excellent way to get an idea of just how high performance these things are. Those will remain largely accurate for the fic's purposes, with little tweaks here and there that would matter to a pilot, but get abstracted out by game mechanics. Nebfer, and Hellfire1 as well, if you'd care to have a character written in to the story, reach out and we'll figure something out.
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