The lack of noise was deafening and out of place. No Kevin snoring. No Sheila gently henpecking the collective Travs. Even the background noise of heavy machinery and muffled voices from the other base areas was gone.
Nothing.
Bothered, he swung his legs over the cot side and lit a smoke. The bunk room was empty. Not just empty of people because he was used to that emptiness, too many hours doing the night shift and catching his sleep during the day while the rest were on duty.
This was barren. Bunks stripped to their mattresses. The corner with the permanent karaoke rig, empty. Sheila's collection of fireman calendars gone leaving only a ghostly outline where the sunlight had faded the surrounding paintwork. The migrating piles of Sky's antique comic collection no longer lent their distinctive smell of old paper to the atmosphere. Even Don's lucky socks, semi sentient in their own right from many years of evading the laundry system had walked away...
He scrunched his feet into fluffy slippers, proof against the cold concrete floor and shuffled out into the corridor. His footfalls and periodic exhalation of smoke made the only sound in the complex.
His mind wandered back to recent conversations. The buzz of excitement as their orders came through to ship out to 1st regiment to make up the numbers caused by attrition and the heated debate surrounding the next mission parameters.
The request for a leave of absence. That had gone down like a cup of cold puke. The brass had turned up. Colonel Todger had tried throwing about orders. He had countered by pointing out that theirs was a mercenary outfit and had cited the "right of refusal" clause. That had led to veiled comments alluding to cowardice and had escalated into invitations for the other party to participate in various forms of painful self-gratification.
Even General Fuller, normally so laid back and permanently attached to his coffee cup had gotten a few barbs in.
The others had packed up and shipped out. Not much had been said. Only Trav 3 and Sky were left beside himself and they had been bumped to C.O. and exec respectively. They had moved to the officer's quarters and pretty much left him to his own devices. He paused in the main hall and glanced toward the admin block where the other two were likely to be, doing whatever they were doing to keep out of his way. Best leave them to it.
He deliberately turned his back but paused again, his eyes drawn to the ceiling where the battle honors hung. He read once more the embroidered words that emblazoned the main banner...
"We can beat them, forever and ever Oh, we can be heroes just for one day."
His eyes strayed to the last honor, the gold of total campaign victory and he couldn't help but grin. Just for one day, but what a day it had been.
They had known back then that this day, the day of transfer must come soon. But before that happened, they had one last, final other day. A day where there was nothing to lose and everything to gain. A day when they had gone for, and had taken by force, the Full Monty.
He shook his head and moved away still smiling. The honors would stay with the regiment of course, that marking would become the wonder of a new breed of Hero, that day a day for them to aspire to.
He found himself in the main hanger, echoing oddly due to the empty berths. His was still as he had left it of course, but Trav and Sky had shifted to the far end closest to the pilot's ready room. It gave them the chance to be last out of the briefing but first into their cockpits, ready to co-ordinate the rest of the regiment as they came online and up to action stations.
Even the support crews had gone, their equipment, lifters, crates and tools vanished. The next mission had been maximum effort, multiple engagement and strict mission parameters. There was a lot or re-work to be done on all the mechs and they would have to do a fair amount of it in transit. Even the reserve mechs were being tuned up.
His personal toolkit was spread around the maintenance bay of course. Pilot's prerogative, he wasn't required to tidy up after himself. This at least was familiar territory. He had worked his own upgrades for too many years, since before his time with the clan. He had started as a tech before he first took the pilots chair. He idly fiddled with a spanner then set it back on the workbench.
Before the clan.
He shook his head and drove away the thought. It was out of the question, whatever the current situation was. But still...
There were smaller hanger doors at the end of the work bay, past the silent sentinel rows of his squadron. Doors rarely opened, but he did so now, throwing his shoulder against the metal frame to slide one of the huge constructs along on its track, just enough to squeeze comfortably through the gap.
The light was dim, only filtering through the newly created opening but the figures could be made out. Smaller than those outside, but more plentiful. The Reserve.
He made his way through the gloom towards the far end and stopped before the smallest one, trying not to bark his shins on the packing crates strewn about its feet.
He paused, then raised a hand. He snapped his fingers, the crack echoing. Slowly, but with rapidity, tell-tale lights came on, actuators hummed into life and pistons hissed as the hulk lowered itself to the mount position while stubby arms consisting of bare framework stripped of all weaponry swung clear of the access ladder. A slight whoosh of air as the cockpit canopy seal broke and swung open.
He clambered up the side, pausing to wipe away the accumulated dust and grime from the nameplate, revealing the word "Falstaff".
A Hoplite class light mech, it had been his mount pre-clan. He admonished himself, had to stop thinking like that.
The cockpit was far more cramped than the heavies he piloted now and even though he had been the last person in the seat he had to let out the straps on the five point harness by an inch or two. He'd obviously put on a few pounds since pre-cl... now that he had regular supplies, 3 square a day when not on combat duty and didn't have to spend time scavenging. Think glass half full...
The reactor hit peak operation and he bled power across to the motive systems. The spare equipment boxes were hurdled from a standing start but the landing wasn't good, the mech trying to overbalance and without the arm mounts there wasn't anything to help with shifting momentum or stability. Only an extra step kept him from going over, accidentally kicking open a carton full of cup holders. They spilled across the oil stained concrete around the mechs foot.
Right, centre of gravity wrong. Legs apart, lower the stance, just like you would do it with a Dread. The closer to the ground, the more stable. Good. Now work out the kinks... training kata, just like the old days. Shift the weight over on to one leg, lift the other, tap-tap. Rest. Tap-tap, heel-toe.
It was all coming back... he stepped, then danced, then accelerated, ducking and weaving, skittering down the central aisle. Even without the aftermarket parts the Hoplite was light and responsive compared to the lumbering Gigus he had been working with last. Like dancing naked in half-gee. Sideways then advancing, he took two short steps and leapt into a mid-air pirouette to land in a combat crouch, the weaponless arm stub snapping up to track an Anzu that only his mind's eye could see with a gun that didn't exist.
He grinned. Still got it.
He straightened the mech up and brought it to parade rest. Both of us have still got it he realized.
Reaching a decision, he strode the mech forward, using the shoulder to barge the doors wide and advanced out into the maintenance bay. He powered down and swung the canopy open, keying a channel on his wrist-comm. "Dolly, I need you to run some numbers for me".
A rich female voice answered, "++Sure sugar, what d'yall need?++"
Sheila had described the AI's tones as "Deep Southern." He didn't know but he guessed a lot of places had a deep south, so she could be right.
"The Falstaff. Possible upgrade paths... how much and how long?" he replied.
"++Calculating, but you might want to narrow things down a touch. That's a whole heap of choices.++"
He made a show of considering, but knew he already had the answer. "Main battle line, point configuration, rank four".
AI's shouldn't have a sense of humor, but Dolly still chuckled. "++Not that y'all have put much thought on it. I got your plans hon, but bear in mind you got no support crew, meanin' that y'all gonna be doin' the work on your lonesome. That's five weeks work, give or take. Plus we ain't got enough raw material now that the stores have been stripped.++"
"Damn," he muttered. "Alright Dolly, first things first. Nanobots can be reprogrammed for different mech classes, yes?"
"++Sure sugar, but they can only repair stuff, not do upgrades.++"
"Tell you what Dolly, tap into the ones on Ionian and show them your plans, then send them over in this direction."
He watched as the surface of the Krampus started to shimmer, then what looked like a shadow stretched across the floor towards him. He stepped aside as the dark patch flowed up and around the lower legs of the Hoplite. Where it touched, the grime was stripped away leaving gleaming new armour plate, visibly thicker than it had been before.
"++Well ah'll be!++" declared the Ai, "++They think they all fixin' it up!++"
He smiled to himself. "OK, Dolly, resource problem now. Access my personal files please, go to folder 'Light Reading', sub-folder 'Classical Literature'. There's a book in there called 'Rizpah Fauna and The Mating Cycle of Snavurm'. Look on page 69 and you should find the access codes for Colonel Todger's regimental credit account. Charge it to that."
"++You sure about that honey? Ain't the Big Boy gonna question it?++"
He shrugged. "Doubt it," he responded, "Fuller knows what a tightwad the colonel is, so if he's using the charge card it's going to be something absolutely vital. I'd say he'll sign off on it without bothering to check".
"++Hold your horses then, accessing banking now...Uh oh...++" Since when did an AI learn to pause dramatically? "++It's asking for retina verification.++"
He trotted to the front of the bay and checked the main hanger left and right before retiring to a secluded corner. Even then his voice was lowered.
"Get one of the servo-mechs to check my foot locker," he whispered into the link. "There's a flask of aftershave at the bottom with a tag on saying 'Love from Doctor Drake'. Unscrew the bottom and you should find a spare eyeball. Use that." He was still scanning the area in case somebody had sneaked in close.
"++I am not even gonna ask...++"
He waited impatiently for confirmation that the charges had gone through. The response he got back was unexpected.
"++Listen honey pie, you know I'm just lookin' out for y'all, but you sure about this? See, I'm looking at all his last transactions, and the cost of parts for that li'l iddy-biddy thing ain't goin' nowhere near what he spends on them there big dogs he runs. If he checks, it's gonna stand out like combat boots on a snavurm.++"
He paused in his reply, thinking furiously. His eyes glanced back towards the reserve hanger doors. Maybe today was another day to go for the Full Monty...
"New calculation. Upgrade paths and costs for the rest of the reserve. Battle Line config. Will that bring us up in the ballpark?"
"++Working.... Question for ya sugar, am I including the niode mechs in that?++"
"Hell no!" he croaked. There was no way anyone would believe that Todger had shelled out on niodes; It was rumored his major fiscal strategy involved a modest outlay to get a tailor to sew extra deep pockets in his uniform pants. "No," he continued after he had paused to get his breath back. "Good catch Dolly, leave out the niode mechs. I'll get on the blower later and see if the Smurfs or Exiles can send over some Jenny packs. I'll use them instead."
The GEN-3-RA-1 field service mecha instant upgrade kit, or 'Jenny Pack' as they were known was a universal collection of armor thickening resins, generic aftermarket mounting brackets and high speed poly-circuits that would add minor enhancements to either a crystal or niode based mech. A bit rough and ready, but he had used plenty in the past. He would work up the Urachnia first since that had only just been mothballed, then carry on with the new Buchis. He hadn't decided what to do with the smaller Zadok yet. That could still end up as spare parts or be put on the market for trade.
"++Orders placed and paid for honey bunch. Guess y'all gonna be a busy little beaver for the next while.++"
He grunted as he strode towards the reserve hanger. "Guess I'd better start getting busy then. Don't suppose you can flick me an inventory of parts so I know what I'm looking for? Start off with the light class equipment, they'll need the most work." Instantly the screen of the wrist-comm started scrolling with information.
"++Y'all should have it now sweety. Say, is shopping supposed to be that much fun?++"
That brought him up short. He'd had a sneaking suspicion for a while that the Bouncing Blue Sisterhood had hacked his AI, but maybe this time they'd done him a favor.
"Tell you what Dolly, since you've got daddy's credit card, why don't you go online and see if anyone's got Red Ants for sale... maybe a couple dozen?"
Submitted by David McCallum id # 701548