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[This story covers the aftermath of my battle with Amy’s NPC unit]
Pecks Roidrage scowled at damage done to his Phoenix Hawk. The PPC from that Marauder had sure done a number on his back. The left pylon had had all its armor stripped, and during the battle was performing at perhaps two thirds of its specified thrust, which had come as an unwelcome surprise as he had attempted to jump away from the Marauder. The technicians were saying they could remove the jumpjet assembly and repair the critical parts, but in the meantime his ‘hawk would be a flightless bird.
Roidrage was seething in anger. The boss had told him to jump out and intercept the enemy Phoenix Hawk. He had sworn up and down that the Marauder was certain to target the exposed Archer, or one of the two Warhammers, but not his poor little ‘hawk. Sometimes the universe was a cold and uncaring place.
Roidrage had joined “Muscles Inc” in the very beginning, when the “Hardbodies” gym he had frequented on Galetea had first posted the open recruitment ad. He had pumped iron with Vanderhuge before, and thought him to be a stand-up fellow. A far cry from the other employers the then Locust pilot had, to be sure. Vanderhuge got it. He had that precise attitude that the other commanders Roidrage had previously served under had lacked.
Vanderhuge understood that there was a camaraderie, a sense of team. Why had Vanderhuge made him jump out and sacrifice his back?
“It’s not like I made him give me the ‘hawk.” He said out loud to himself, in a voice just above a whisper, in the total certainty that the noises of the mech hangar would obscure his words.
He needn’t have worried in any case, the nearest souls were the technicians and they seemed rushed, a voice over the radio… No doubt it was the boss telling them to move his damaged machine to some corner to make room for the salvaged Marauder and Warhammer mechs from the surrendered warehouse defense force.
Roidrage understood… the priority was the big mechs. The ones that could deal damage, and that could take it. His little ‘hawk wasn’t worth the effort at the moment. Either of those mechs had his outclassed by twice the firepower, and at least twice the armor. He had thought that trading in his Locust, the machine a disinterested House Marik had seen fit to replace his Orion with when the Liao Warrior House forces had shot it from under him, for a Phoenix Hawk would allow him to contribute to the unit more. But with the inclusion of the new machines, Roidrage was sure he was going to get let go. The absolute limit on what a Leopard dropship could carry was 4 mechs, 6 if the pilots were willing to load mechs into the fighter cubicles. The last one had only been willing to offload one fighter. The next one might not even do that, and it was clear that Vanderhuge wanted to field heavy mechs.
Roidrage wondered what would happen to the panther pilot. Rock Sixpack had experience in the Warhammer platform, but the Laio version, not the Davion one that they had captured. Though the two machines had more similarities to each other than they did to the unit-owned Panther that he was currently driving. Surely he was going to get the seat on that machine. That the second Panther would be sold was a foregone conclusion. Panthers he could sell.
Roidrage was considering which of the hiring branches he would hit first when they got back to Galetea when the massive blast of an air horn broke him from his thoughts. Two ‘haulers with massive tarp-covered flatbed trailers. One obviously the Warhammer, the legs and twin PPC arms of that mech sticking out from the tarp. The other, a piled lump that was easy to surmise comprised the Marauder, looked to be coiled up in a semi-“fetal position” for hauling.
“Move yo ass buddy” the union trucker yelled from his air-conditioned cab. “I gotta drop dis ‘ere stuff an git! I’m late.”
Figured. Even the locals could smell the stench of unemployment looming on him. No respect.
He moved and watched as the escorting Panther mech pulled the tarp off of the Warhammer and the technicians scrambled to offload the machine. It had some light armor damage, and the (now dispossessed) pilot had mentioned it tended to run a little hot, probably needing a ‘sink or two serviced. Roidrage had sat in on the debriefing, leaving when Vanderhuge had mentioned that unfortunately he couldn’t let the warrior stay with his mech, that he’d be dispossessed. That had struck a little too close to home. The debriefing had gone on for several hours after that, but Roidrage had heard all that he needed.
Vanderhuge cane walking up to Roidrage, all smiles.
“Well, today is a good day” he said with a huge grin, his barrel chest rippling with laughter.
“I suppose.” Roidrage allowed. The warhammer was a pretty machine, and going to three of them was going to seriously boost the credibility of Vanderhuge’s “assault lance”. “Though when we get back the job hunt is gonna suck.”
Vanderhuge looked at the man as if he had sprouted a third eyeball. “Job hunt?”
Roidrage just looked at his boss. “I don’t know anything about driving Marauders, and you yourself said you had enough Warhammer pilots. Way I see it, that leaves your ‘assault lance’ full. Five mechs counting the other two ‘hammers and your Archer. No room in an assault formation for a Phoenix Hawk anyway. If you were a strike formation, sure I could see it. But I’m too fast and light to survive another pounding like I took out there. You don’t gotta tell me I’m fired. I can figure it out for myself. Just hope I can get the ‘hawk fixed first.”
Vanderhuge’s expression changed ever so slightly. “Your deal was that I let you trade that deathtrap Locust in for something bigger, but I got to keep you for the next seven years, with the option to stay for fifteen. What makes you think I’d let you leave without fulfilling that?”
“How about the fact that my Phoenix Hawk just shed about a locust’s weight in armor and components? I’d say we were even.. A busted up Phoenix Hawk for a minty fresh locust.”
Vanderhuge grinned a particularly shark-like grin. “I don’t see it that way. First off it isn’t a fair exchange. Second off…” he gestured to the massive hauler behind Roidrage, who turned in time to see the tarp being pulled off it.
Far from carrying a Marauder, the trick was carrying a pile of parts that had once been the enemy Phoenix Hawk Roidrage had killed. Two arms, two legs, a head, and whatever blown off components looked like they were in decent enough shape to be repaired. The center and right Torso locations were mangled beyond all use, the reactor and gyro so much scrapped metal, but the left arm had enough of the torso still clinging to it that there might be a working jumpjet assembly… Plus enough incidental parts to repair Roidrages machine and keep it in spares for a LONG time.
“…That wreck of a Phoenix Hawk has more than enough parts to fix the command mech for my Recon Lance.”
“Recon lance?” Roidrage asked?
Vanderhuge produced a sixpack of chilled beer from the “toolbox” on the side of the ‘hauler cab. He cracked one open and took a long pull and threw the empty can so it bounced off the back of the Panthers head. “Boom… Headshot” he smiled.
“Yeah. I need smaller faster stuff to find things for the big things to hit. Stuff to run interference. Stuff to run down anything that gets away. We couldn’t have won that fight without your ‘hawk to offset theirs. Plus those guys wouldn’t have surrendered so easily if they thought they had a chance of getting away. All I can give you right now is a pair of Panthers. No cash for anything better. I have this crazy idea in my mind I want to try… But if you want your ‘hawk to stay yours, you are my Recon Commander.”
Roidrage smiled and took the offered beer. It was the best beer he’d had in a long time. He paused and seemed to be giving the matter great consideration. Finally he smiled, drained the can and threw his can at the Panther, hitting about the same place as Vanderhuge.
“Twist my arm why don’t you?”
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Big Nick, the Chainsaw Assassin
[i]Making Bad News Worse since 1980[/i]
[b]What... There's only ONE of you?[/b]
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Carry on.
