Well lads and lassies. I decided ter redo the prologue a bit.
First the obligatory disclaimer, I do NOT own Mechwarrior or Battletech. Second, I'm not a Battletech guru by any means, so I'm taking liberties here and there (mostly here because I haven't been there yet ;)
Well enjoy, and R&R pleaz
Some people tell you that time heals all wounds, but believe me, it never lasts long before the past come back to haunt you – Porter in the book "Payback"
The FedCom Civil War was something I don't really want to be remembered of. For me, it started in the year of 3061. In the last decades the Inner Sphere had been haunted by war after war between the mighty houses of Liao, Kurita, Marik and two of the most powerful houses of all: Davion and Steiner. The marriage of Melissa Steiner and Hanse Davion was the preparation of the merging of the two most powerful realms in known space. The Lyran Commonwealth and the Federated Suns would become the Federated Commonwealth.
However, the sudden arrival of the Clans created what the Germans would call "das freundlichste durcheinander": a perfectly orchestrated chaos. While Victor Steiner-Davion was away fighting these heirs of the Star League, his sister, Katherine Steiner-Davion made her preparations. Victor was bred for battle, Katherine (who renamed herself Katrina Steiner) was bred for politics. And by Golly, she sure knew what politics meant. In the end, she orchestrated a rift in the FedCOM. She named her part the Lyran Alliance and called for all those loyal to Steiner to take up arms against House Davion. Aided by Sun Tzu Liao and his Cappellan Confederation she tried to "seize the jackpot" as Vark would have said.
A mercenary doesn't mind about anything in these times. A mercenary doesn't mind politics, doesn't mind if Steiner is viler than Davion. Most mercenary have the same opinion on politics as 19th century writer Mark Twain: "Politicians and Idiots are synonimous" A merc only minds about money, he or she is a sellsword getting paid for those jobs no-one else wants to do. There are all kinds of mercenary units. You have the top dogs like the Wolf Dragoons, the lowlifes like the Red Skulls who are nothing more than Periphery pirates, and there are the black units. The black units are mercs acting like ghosts: officially they don't exist and are classified as rumours, but like in any story there's always a shred of truth. One of those units was Dodd's Cobra's, a unit that worked for Warner Industries, a megacorporation. I once was involved with that unit. This is my tale…
A Cobra's tale
Prologue: 2 fast, 2 furious
Yorkshire Dales, Yorkshire, England, Terra, september 21st 3081
Private James Quinton was in trouble, really big trouble. He had just managed to break a Swiftwind scout car on his first mission since his enlistment in Dodd's Cobra's. He looked to his side, where Sergeant Jean-Louis Maillaux was busy to unbuckle his seatbelt. The large bald man then kicked open the door of the small vehicle and climbed out on the roof to survey the disaster.
The scoutcar had sunken halfway in a waterhole next to the road. Quinton had steered the Swiftwind rather recklessly around a bend 200 meters back and wasn't prepared for either the very steep angle the road took (at least 11%) nor for the shepherd leading his sheep across the road. Quinton panicked at the sight of the large heard crossing the road and stomped on the brakes and tried to steer the vehicle to the right at the same time. The result was devastating. The Swiftwind got in a spin, almost flew off the road on the left side, swerved over to the right and had hit a low wall next to the road. The scoutcar plowed through it, rolled from the steep incline behind it and came to a harsh stop as it splashed into a half-filled ditch
An end with a bang, appropriate for the whole rollercoaster-like ride Maillaux thought when he jumped off the roof of the Swiftwind. Merde, why had Captain Poll given him these stupid orders in the first place? Take a Swiftwind equipped with special equipment and set up sector 2 of the early warning network. Standard procedure in this unit, so it should have been a piece-of-cake. Alas, only 4 of all the personnel from Dodd's Cobra's had ever been on Terra, and only one of them had ever been in Yorkshire And of all the men in Dodd's Cobra's, that particular person, had to be the newly enlisted private James Quinton. Judging from the tests he was an average shooter, had a sharp tactical mind, was very good in ECM-warfare and an absolutely abysmal driver. Not that he was BAD at driving, he was only addicted to speed. The faster the vehicle he drove was, whether mech, car, motorcycle or aerospace-fighter (he had been training on those extensively in the simulators during the trip to Terra) the better Quinton felt. So he always drove his 'ride' to the absolute edge, and this time, beyond it.
When Quinton finally dared to clamber out of the hatch, he saw sergeant Maillaux leaning against the wreckage, trying to control his temper.
"Remarquable" Maillaux said. "Not only you are the first private who manages to damage a vehicle in less than 20 minutes, but it looks like you're also the first one who wrecks it. Nom de Dieu, out of which hole did the recruiters dragged your sorry ass, private? How do you think we are going to get back to base now? I tried to radio Venom-base, but the impact of the crash has damaged my portable radio. And you have wrecked the Swiftwind so we can't use the internal radio also. Well, don't you stand there private! Check the amount of damage and at least try to find a way to get this hunkajunk out of this ditch!"
Quinton jumped out of the vehicle but and soon it was absolutely totalled. The front wheels were both snapped off, and the engine had been pressed inward by the force of the collision. The rotodome on the roof had survived the crash, but the radiounit in the back of the Swiftwind was destroyed. Why in gods name would Colonel Dodd come to Northern England, Yorkshire of all places. Sure the landscape still was beautiful, but they sure hadn't come this long way from Outreach just to enjoy sightseeing, right?
"Umm.. sir, I think we have to walk back. There's no way we can get this thing back to base." Quinton managed to stammer.
Maillaux cursed in French and was thinking of a reply, when suddenly a hoarse voice behind him said "Looks like you lads are in trouble, maybe I can help you".
Maillaux spun around and stared at the old shepherd who had been the cause of Quintons panic reaction. The man walked past Maillaux and also examined the vehicle. "Hmm, ye really managed to break this thing big time didn't cha. Front wheels gone, engine damage and problably the ECM-equipment trashed as well. I'll radio a friend o' mine. He has a Karnov retrieval-vehicle. Should be enough to lift this thing to his repairshop "
The man pulled out a small, mobile phone-like device. He pressed a few buttons and started to mumble in the radio. Quinton could only understand a few words like "accident….. bloody fools….. could sure use your help". In the end, the man pocketed the device again and said "OK, he'll be here in a few minutes"
Indeed, a few minutes later, an engine whine was heard, and a large black Karnov retrieval helicopter popped over a hill. The hulking VTOL-aircraft approached them at a terrific speed, slowed down, and hovered to the ground. Both mercs stared at the craft in amazement. This was one hell of a Karnov. Armoured with some endosteel plates, armed to the teeth with lasers, rocketlaunchers, and even two small rotary autocannons. This was no retrieval 'copter, this was a flying tank with a tow set. The pilot gunned the engines and jumped out. As the large burly man approached them, Maillaux noticed he wore a small cap, an eyepatch on his left eye, and had a large scar over his right eye.
He first greeted the sheperd and said "You can go back to your flock. Alun. I'll take it from here". The shepherd called Alun smiled and said to the mercs "Ÿou lads are in good hands. Dagger here used to be a merc himself, but now the blake jihad's over and all Wobblies are either dead or into hiding, he gave in to an old dream: opening up a repairshop, like the one his family owned. I swear you that man can repair anything ranging from a satellite-dish to a hand –actuator. The very first piece of scrap he got his hands on was Airwolf 2.5" – Alun gestured to the Karnov.
"And where is your repairshop ?" Maillaux asked in a commanding tone.
Dagger turned around from the wreckage. "Not too far from here, in an old bunker I found half-a-year ago. It's been a mech repairbay once, and now I use it as a garage. Almost forgetting to introduce myself. I'm Franco Petretti, and as Alun already told you, my name once used to be Dagger, but now I'm just your local tow-truckdriver.. I mean RV-pilot. Now we'd better get this wreck outta this ditch, before we all sink in the mud."
The three men worked to attach a monstrous towcable to the wreck and then got into the VTOL. Petretti started up the engines and carefully hovered the large VTOL above the Swiftwind, pulling in the winch and the heavy load underneath. He then applied more power to the engines and tilted the rotor-units more foreward, increasing the speed.
"Ok, we're airborne. I'm taking this thing to my shop, and I'll try to repair her there. Guess old Willard still has trust in that EWN-setup of his"
"Mon dieu, how did you know…" Maillaux started, but Petretti interrupted "That that Swiftwind is part of an Early Warning Network, and that you lot are mercs from Dodds Cobra's? Because I once was a part of the Cobra's too. Old Willard still in command, is he?" Quinton chuckled as Petretti called the Colonel "Old Willard".
"He is, although he's preparing for his son William to take over, William Dodd is now a major, and leader of the scout lance".
"Just a minute" Maillaux interrupted "You said your name used to be Dagger? I remember Sergeant Jeeter talking about a captain Clifford Dagger. A jack-of-all-trades he said. Could handle mechs, fighters and choppers equally well, was a pilot before he went on to mechwarrior. Had a few distinctive marks: he was very large, almost like an Elemental, bald and he had an eyepatch over his lefteye."
"Very good, sergeant, yeah that should be me, way back when I was still young and crazy. Now I'm only crazy. By the way, how does Captain Vincent Maillaux do?"
Now JLM was stunned "You know my father? From where?"
"Oh we used to work together on a job once. Let me get this baby down there (Petretti pointed to small landingstrip) and I'll tell you everything about it while we work to get that hunkajunk in reasonable state"