"Chronicles of Omarus" is very much just a retelling of my original work, "The Battle of Arthenis III." The major difference is that I wrote "Chronicles" for a company letter in such a way that it could be understood by a non-Mechwarrior, primarily female, audience. Please tell me what you think of "Chronicles."
Part 1: Introduction
Mech: short for battlemech, it is a huge machine of metal generally designed for the purpose of war, although there are some instances of mechs being used in peaceful capacities. They are the ultimate in warfare, designed with the pressures of 31st century combat in mind, and can bring a huge array of weaponry to bear on the foe of whoever pilots such a machine. And how can one fight a mech? From behind a similar shield of metal, able to dish out as well as take incredible damage. Mechs are the new foundation of warfare, used by every nation in the galaxy. They are typically 8-12 meters tall and shaped roughly like human beings, though the actual size and shape they take is limited only by imagination, and present technology.
Mechwarrior: a person crazy enough to strap himself into one of these killer giants and act as its gunner, pilot, and everything else! Trained for fast reflexes and quick minds, and to fill any number of roles on the battlefield, from scout to assault to artillery. Their motivations for fighting are as varied as those today: defend your honor, protect your clan, fight for peace and freedom, or just for money. Enter the character of this story, Omarus Aldan, retired from the battlefield and mechs. Something of a legend among mechwarriors, he is said to be one of the greatest to ever live. Now, ready to return to the battlefield, will he finally reach his full potential? Prepare to find out.
It had been six years since Omarus had retired, and he was now living the easy life back on Earth. All his contracts were handled through the secretaries, and missions were given to his underlings. The reason he had retired at the age of 26—at the prime of his career, when practically every corporation and government in sight was trying to hire him—was still something of a mystery. He claimed it was his graying hair at such a young age that brought his mortality home to him, and helped him decide that it was probably his career. Many were disappointed when Omarus retired from mercenary work; others hoped it signaled the end of the Hell Striders mercenary unit, and the return of their profit. Even so, contracts continued coming to Omarus even after his formal announcement to leave the field, for a couple years at least.
Omarus had planned on returning to the battlefield someday, but a look around showed him that the competition had grown in his absence. Jason Carberg piloted a 115-ton mech with an assortment of gauss and heavy PPC's; Carrie Grearson and her 60-ton medium with its super refractive armor that nullified any laser hits had just made headlines by storming across a continent on Unos, bringing decisive victory to the government of a planet that had seen war for ten years. Omarus's confidence in his abilities and the 100-ton Hell Strider mech he had piloted was disappearing, as he wondered if his time had passed.
It was then that he received the message. Someone had sent it with the heading "Personal Memo" instead of the usual "Contract Offer." That someone was Ronald Herman, and he knew that only one mechwarrior could help now . . .